Mr. BARNES 
 
 0/New York 
 
Mr. BARNES 
 
 of New York 
 
 A Novel 
 
 By 
 ARCHIBALD CLAVERING GUNTER 
 
 AUTHOR OF 
 
 u MR. POTTER OF TEXAS," u THAT FRENCHMAN," u Ml* 
 NOBODY Or NOWHERE/' " THE KING'S STOCK- 
 BROKER," "BOB COVINGTON," ETC. 
 
 NEW YORK 
 
 HURST & COMPANY 
 
 PUBLISHERS 
 
CoFTIir.MT, 
 
 BT A. C. GONTU. 
 A U right* reserved. 
 
CONTENTS. 
 
 BOOK I. 
 
 THE DUEL AT AJACCIO. 
 
 CHAPTER I. Waiting. - ... I 
 
 " II. Coming. 10 
 
 III. A la Mor* 20 
 
 * IV. Dead. 33 
 
 BOOK IL 
 
 AN EPISODE OP THE PARIS SALON. 
 
 CHAPTER V. A Curious Picture. - 39 
 
 VI. Pursued. - - -44 
 
 " VII. The Lyons Express. - - 52 
 
 VIII. Conquered ! - 62 
 
 " IX. Will God never give him to me ? 75 
 
 X. The Angel of the Egyptian Hospital. 84 
 
 * XL " The Other One." - - 94 
 
 BOOK III. 
 
 THE ENCOUNTER AT MONTE CARLO. 
 
 CHAPTER XIL La Belle Blackwood. - - 106 
 " XIII. Borrow it from Barnes. - - ii| 
 
 MilG69 
 
IV CONTENTS. 
 
 CHAPTER XIV. The Telegram from Gibraltar. -127 
 XV. At Last ! - 138 
 
 XVI. Love's Battle. - - 4 8 
 
 BOOK IV. 
 
 A NEW CRIME. 
 
 CHAPTER XVII. You have forgotten you are a 
 
 Corsican. - - - 158 
 
 44 XVIIL Satan enters Paradise. - - 168 
 
 XIX. Satan Laughs. - - 175 
 
 XX. The Valise marked " G. A." - 184 
 
 BOOK V. 
 
 THE CORSICAN WEDDING. 
 
 CHAPTER XXL The Home of the Vendetta. - 195 
 " XXII. To-night I am a Corsican. - 202 
 XXIII. The Bridal Chamber. - 217 
 
 XXIV. The Man Behind the Curtains. 228 
 XXV. Doctor Barnea. - -135 
 
MR. BARNES OF NEW YORK. 
 
 BOOK I. 
 
 THE DUEL AT AJACCIO. 
 
 CHAPTER L 
 
 WAITING. 
 
 * YES, I rather imagine this is the exact spot," sayt 
 Mr. Burton H. Barnes, of New York, to the venerable 
 host of the very old and very dilapidated little inn that 
 stands on the shores of the Gulf of Ajaccio, near where 
 the Bastia road turns inland, and, following up the Gra- 
 vona torrent, first through the orange and citron groves 
 of the fertile Campoloro and then over hills covered with 
 the vine and olive, is lost in the chestnut woods that hide 
 the lower slopes of the great Monte del Oro. 
 
 Nothing can be in more vivid and striking contrast 
 than the man and his surroundings ; the light civilization 
 of an exponent of New York fashion of the year 1882 
 stands face to face with the barbaric romance of the old 
 Corsican scene and the mediaeval picturesqueness of the 
 native costume of the old inn-keeper, who curiously asks, 
 in his soft, southern patois, ignoring the French in which 
 Mr. Barnes has addressed him, "The spot for what, 
 Signer ? " 
 
 " The spot where there is going to be a first-class duel 
 this morning, as soon as there is light enough to kill." 
 
 " To kill what ? " 
 
 " Each other ! Don't you know what a duel is ? " Here 
 Mr. Barnes gives a short dissertation on the code of 
 
2 KXES OF NEW YORK. 
 
 honor, illustrating his French with vigorous pantomimic 
 action. 
 
 " Ah ! a kind of vendetta" says the old man, bright- 
 ng. 
 
 "Yes, a civilized vendetta. You know what that is, 
 I've no doubt." 
 
 " My father, the fisherman, fell in one," says the Cor- 
 sican, moodily ; " he was drowned." 
 
 "And the man who killed your father?" asks the 
 American, with some interest. 
 
 * Was drowned also. I am the son of my father. 
 My father's slayer was the last of their accursed family, 
 so now I sleep in peace Would the gentleman like 
 breakfast ? " and trade overcomes his romance. 
 
 14 Yes; place a table for me, Mateo I think that's what 
 you called yourself out here on the portico. Give me 
 a flask of your best chianti, some fruit, and something to 
 eat, if you've got anything not stuffed with chestnuts. 
 I'll make myself comfortable till the time comes." 
 
 " Eggs ? " triumphantly suggests the host 
 
 *' Yes. Eggs don't taste of chestnuts." 
 
 As Mateo goes in to attend to this order, Mr. Barnes 
 mutters to himself, "Always best to take things easy till 
 ;me to act," and sinking lazily upon the most comfort- 
 able stool he can find, gazes meditatively over the exqui- 
 site scene that the early morning light is just making 
 distinctly beautiful. 
 
 The portico of the inn faces the bay, and is only sepa- 
 rated from its torpid ripples by a few feet of shingle and 
 rocks that run out into the blue water. This is now just 
 brightening in the morning sun, rising over the white peaks 
 of the Corsican mountains, that, as usual, in spring, are 
 shrouded in mists. Far out to sea, the lateen sails of 
 fishing boats look like sea-gulls' wings ; in the harbor a 
 score or so of feluccas and speronares from Sardinia and 
 Sicily are hardly moving under the lazy breeze, while 
 the dark low hull of an English gun-boat, which has put 
 into Ajaccio to purchase some supplies of poultry and 
 fruit for her officers' mess, is giving out from her short 
 funnel a black cloud of smoke that indicates that she 
 will soon be under way for Alexandria to assist at Arabi 
 Pasha's downfall. 
 
 Mr. Barnes looks gloomily at her as he says to himself, 
 
MR. BARNES OF NEW YORK. J 
 
 " Wish that beggar would sail before her time ; it would 
 perhaps save me making a fool of myself." Then roll- 
 ing a cigarette, he turns, and looking inland up the Bas- 
 tia road, continues : " No sign of Marina yet. I sent the 
 courier for her at ten o'clock last night. If Corsican 
 horseflesh can do it, she should be here in time. But 
 Corsican horseflesh is at best only polo-pony horseflesh; 
 the roads are slow, and (looking at his watch) it is seven 
 o'clock now. If I can't stop these fellows making fools 
 of themselves, and anything happens to him, Heaven pity 
 her ! it's a hard world." 
 
 With a sigh, Mr. Barnes goes off into a brown study, 
 meditating what a fool he has been to come to Corsica, 
 moufflon shooting, when he might just as well have been 
 shooting some other wild animal, on some other part ot 
 the earth's surface. ./ 
 
 Mr. Barnes is not a typical New Yorker. At first 
 sight he is always suspected of being what is now con- 
 temptuously called a dude; but if his dress from its 
 elaboration, almost to the point of affectation, might make 
 an observer suppose him one, his bearing and manner 
 wonld in a very short time prove that he was also a man, 
 and a man who knew and understood both the world and 
 himself pretty thoroughly. Mr. Barnes' occupation in 
 the twenty-eight years of his life has been killing time. 
 Being blessed with an ample fortune, he has never earned 
 his own living ; though he once thought he ought to 
 have a profession, and studied surgery till he discovered 
 that the death rate of the world was ten a year to every 
 practicing physician ; whereupon, glad of the excuse, 
 Mr. Barnes said he would let his ten men live, and re- 
 fused to take out his diploma. Being compelled to kill 
 time, he has mostly killed it by killing wild animals. A 
 crack shot of the New York Rifle Club, he has once or 
 twice saved an International match by literally having no 
 nerves at the critical moment when it was absolutely nec- 
 essary to shoot a bull's eye to win ; consequently, before 
 dangerous game, especially tigers, Mr. Barnes is very 
 deadly. 
 
 Not averse to the chase in any form, he would gladly 
 have hunted in the preserves of Belgravia and Fifth 
 Avenue, for he had the cntrte to both English and Amer- 
 ican society, but he despised a long flirtation with its im- 
 
g MR. BARNES OF NENV YORK. 
 
 perceptible advances and calculated manoeuvres, whicfc 
 he stigmatized as " Snaring canary birds and not true 
 sport." 
 
 Too languid to dance in a ball-room, he would climb 
 the Rocky Mountains to kill a big-horn ; consequently, 
 when over a game of Baccarat at a Parisian club, a pass- 
 ing acquaintance, Count Musso Danella, a Corsican, in- 
 vited him to visit his estates on the island for the purpose 
 of killing moufflon, Mr. Barnes accepted, and within the 
 three weeks preceding the day we meet him, had shot 
 all the moufflon he desired, traveled generally over the 
 island, but had missed seeing what he was most curious 
 about a vendetta in actual progress, and was at Ajaccio, 
 en route for France, when he became engaged in the 
 morning adventure that now occupies him, not on his 
 own account, but for the sake of a young lady he had 
 met in the interior of the island. 
 
 The next estate to that of his host in the fair valley of 
 the Gravona, below the far spreading chestnut and beech 
 woods of Bocognano, was one belonging to a family in 
 whose veins flows the blood most honored and most loved 
 in all Corsica, that of the old-time patriot and liberator, 
 Pasquale Paoli, and the young lady was one of the last 
 of that ancient name. 
 
 Count Musso Danella was the guardian of both the girl 
 and her brother, their father having died while they were 
 children, and had invited Barnes to visit, with him, his 
 young ward who had just returned from an Italian board- 
 ing school, in order to meet her brother, a young naval 
 officer in the service of the French Republic, expected 
 home from a three years' cruise. 
 
 " She will return to school no more ; they write they 
 will not have her back," says the Count as they ride up 
 the avenue of olive trees, toward the low, Corsican house, 
 ideed ! Why ?" asks Barnes. 
 
 " Per Bcuco ! she is too Corsican for them ; she loves 
 liberty too well. She ran away from school to hear 
 Gerster sing in Florence one night, and threatened her 
 painting master with an unknown vengeance if he dared 
 to desecrate with daubs from his no-school modern Ital- 
 ian brush, a painting she had just finished. The Italian 
 sent her picture unaltered to me with his complaint ; I 
 lent Marina's picture to the^ Salon, and when it received 
 
MR. B*R->:E5 CTT KETW YORK. 
 
 an honorable mention, I threw the Italian's complaint 
 into the fire ! " 
 
 " A picture from a girl receive mention at the Paris 
 Salon ? " Mr. Barnes gasps in unbelief. 
 
 " I think it was as much the subject, as the treatment, 
 secured its success ; for with true girlish vanity she had 
 painted herself," laughs the Count, as they enter the 
 house. The next instant Barnes sees the original, and 
 then only wonders that the copy, if half a likeness, did 
 not gain the gold medal of the year. 
 
 As she rises to receive them, the girl drapes her mod- 
 ern Parisian dress about her, like some old Grecian robe, 
 and outlines a form perfect as her face, which is of the most 
 bewildering, dazzling, Southern beauty, animated by a 
 soul, that, shining through it with changing piquancy of 
 expression, makes it indescribable. To love her would 
 have been to love, perhaps, within the hour a Juliet and 
 Madonna ; and, perchance, in one dread moment of her 
 life, a Lady Macbeth all strangely beautiful and each 
 Marina Paoli. 
 
 Barnes, whose descriptive adjectives are limited, called 
 her " a stunner," and was right as regards his own sen 
 sations, for she simply appalled him, not perhaps when 
 he first saw her but afterwards. 
 
 As she comes toward them with a smile of welcome, 
 the Count presuming on his guardianship is about to kiss 
 her lips ; the smile changes to a flash of hauteur as she 
 coldly says : "I've grown older now my hand, please." 
 
 While the man of the world with his forty years of 
 Parisian life that cost him fifty, smiling behind his white 
 teeth bends over her fingers, Barnes suddenly thinks that 
 Musso loves her ; and that the young girl with her sex's 
 instinct has placed a rampart between his passion and 
 herself. 
 
 As Mr. Barnes is introduced, her smile is back again \ 
 she exclaims, " An American ! a freeman ! you can kiss 
 my hand also ! " 
 
 " You like republicans ? " 
 
 " I hate tyrants and despise slaves. I should only bow 
 to a Russian or a Turk, but an American it is dif- 
 ferent ! " 
 
 " I'm glad I'm an American," says Mr. Barnes, kissing 
 her hand ; and that kiss gave him interest enough in her 
 
, OQ the day we first 
 
 Lm turn oct of 
 ehim,todohera 
 They are 
 
 n opera. 
 
 tt is 
 
 of the family who fa* 
 it a reproach 
 
 he 
 
 in" 
 
 it 
 
 There are 
 
 _ /^i^u 
 so UUKB* 
 
 who it B^F fo8ter*Cather and woo Id avciifC 1 mjr 
 own j mrseii, and Antonio* ID JT orocher, 
 
 \her eyes take ao expectant look i^ ** toe OQJT one of BUT 
 
 a^t ___ f i^.-. fc *_ * - _ _____ v ^^n ^. ____ _ - - 
 
 > lore, Wuote igncr A toaii tooo receive 
 
 tore. 
 
 1 1 shaO place mj km poo hm. Ah! 
 I bear hofso-boofs ! ife lfe*r/ if tt is be ! " 
 
 ott> the portico. After a paose the Court sajs: "Would 
 yoB like to see the pnnie of the Pansiao Saloa ? 
 
 : on h, deelop into a por- 
 skirt, that 
 > if her wol was f ar ; 
 
ML BAUCIS or nw YORK. 
 
 No! Waiting for her brother he is the only 
 Marina loves. The two child Ten grew op, as it were, in 
 each other's arms ; until three years ago, then fives were 
 one and now she awaits bis coouog tike an < 
 bride. There i 
 love! " remarked 
 
 The words have hardly left him, 
 like one inspired. "See," she cries, "his letter! my 
 Antonio's letter ! " and she kisses h. " He will be in 
 Corsica to-morrow, and the next day,** (a sigh of long- 
 ing) "with me! I have sent old Tomasso to tight 
 fires of good omen on the hills, so that oar shepherds on 
 the higher ranges of del Oro may know their master is 
 
 that dress when neit I see Utn,** she points to the picture. 
 
 4 UA fi mft ^- -. |I 1- 
 
 rie lovea me DCSK as one ot nts own pcopM : 
 ** We had better go,"* whispers DaneOa to 
 
 the 
 
 them from her b< 
 the astonished i 
 the yoang man. Marina noticing, says quickly wtth a 
 
 langh, - Do not be jealous ; Mr. 
 for me to A jaccio, and if he sees my brother, gnre An- 
 tonio the Aowcis of his native land and tefl him tint 
 
 wJttfl he gives them pack to her. Understand yon are 
 not even to smeO them j their perfume is all foe wif 
 brother.** 
 
 As the two men ride away, she stands looking after 
 
 the fire-hgfat that streams from the 
 that defend an wind 
 
 of joy and love 
 
 " By George ! They don't manufacture such gkk in 
 Fifth Avenue ! ~ says Mr. Barnes. 
 
 " No ! Civilization would stunt the growth of 
 cut. Marina has the two gieal native, passion 
 of country and love of 
 
 1 j^ ' _ J_ f' 
 
 ner, ooc even m 
 will knre no other 
 
f MR. BARNES OP NEW YORK. 
 
 " But if she should ? " suggests laughingly the Amer- 
 ican. 
 
 " Not while I live ! " cries the Corsican with a muttered 
 oath and a sudden sinister contraction of his face that 
 tells Barnes his secret " But you take the road to 
 Ajaccio, and it leaves mine here." On which the two 
 men part with many a kindly farewell, for, though Barnes 
 despises a man who cannot keep his temper, and the 
 Count has the passions of the lower regions, they have 
 been good comrades for their three weeks' snooting and 
 have bagged much game ; which makes all sportsmen 
 feel kindly to one another. 
 
 As Barnes rides down the beautiful valley that is 
 watered by the white rapids of the Gravona rushing 
 towards the sea, he smells the perfume of the laurel 
 flowers and sees the fires of welcome lighted upon the 
 hills, and knows that any kindness done to the brother 
 will make the sister his friend ; and, though his common- 
 sense forbids him to love a volcano, he would do much 
 to gain her esteem. 
 
 The next evening he is in Ajaccio ; and, thoughtful of 
 his message to Antonio, lounges into the local Club, 
 which with the traditional hospitality of all Corsica, is 
 open to foreigners, thinking to find him. 
 
 There are but few visitors at that most quiet of all quiet 
 clubs, The Circle of Ajaccio, and Barnes at first thinks 
 there are none ; but soon angry voices come to him from 
 the next room, followed by a couple of good round home- 
 made Anglo-Saxon oaths that no foreigner could imitate. 
 
 Glancing in, he sees two French officers, and an English 
 one who evidently belongs to some British man-of-wa- 
 in the harbor, as he wears the naval uniform of that 
 country. 
 
 The matter of their dispute is the Egyptian question, 
 which up to this time makes very bad blood between the 
 two countries ; and, in 1882, before the bombardment of 
 Alexandria, was the cause of even more decided and bitter 
 feeling than now. The controversy has been brought 
 about by an extremely clever cartoon in the London 
 Punch, that is lying on the table of the club. This pic- 
 ture represents a gigantic palm tree laden with Egyptian 
 cocoanuts, that France, in the costume of a French 
 officer, is shaking so that the fruit will fall right into th* 
 
MR. BARNES OF NEW YORK. 9 
 
 open and capacious jaws of the British lion, who is reclin 
 ing lazily beneath its branches. 
 
 As Mr. Barnes looks in, the climax is reached by the 
 French officer calling the Englishman a liar, and the next 
 instant getting knocked down for his trouble. 
 
 The Frenchman gathers himself together, which takes 
 some little time, as the blow was straight from the 
 shoulder, rises and is about to spring at his opponent, 
 when his comrade stops him, saying " Not now ! " 
 
 The assaulted man restrains himself, bows and pre- 
 sents his card, in the eagerness of the moment drawing 
 two from his case. The Englishman takes one, leaving 
 the other on the table, and then says, " You must excuse 
 my giving my card in return." 
 
 "A brave man ! " thinks Barnes. " He has courage 
 enough to refuse a duel." 
 
 "And you are an English officer ? " says the French- 
 man, with a sneer. 
 
 "And it is because I am an English officer that I refuse. 
 To send or accept a challenge is against the orders of the 
 British Admiralty." 
 
 " Not quite so brave as I thought him ; he fears the 
 British Admiralty," mutters Barnes. 
 
 "Ah ! you dare not ! " says the Frenchman. " You are 
 only fit to fight Egyptians." 
 
 " I am very well able to murder you if you wish it," 
 replies the Englishman, "and if you put it on the ground 
 of courage, I'll face both you and a court-martial 
 together." 
 
 A meeting is arranged for the next morning at eight 
 sharp, at the little inn by the shore, called II Pcscaiori, for 
 the Englishman's ship sails at nine. Then the men leave 
 the club, the French officer remarking, "Dcmain! & la 
 mort!" 
 
 This affair would not have interested Mr. Barnes 
 greatly ; he had once looked on a duel between cow-boys 
 in Texas, and had seen enough blood shed at that meet- 
 ing between those vagabonds of the wilderness to make 
 him wish never to see another; but, happening a few 
 oiinutes afterward to stroll into the room where the dis- 
 pute had taken place, he picked up the card from the 
 table. After one hasty glance at it, and then another to 
 be absolutely sure, he went hurriedly out into the street, 
 
I* MR. BARNES OF NEW YORK. 
 
 and. ten minutes after, a Corsican boy, instructed to ride 
 for his fife, was spurring wildly into the darkness up the 
 Bastia road with a dispatch for Musso Danella. 
 
 The next morning Mr. Barnes hurried to the inn of 
 // Pescatori for the sake of the girl he had seen waiting 
 so expectantly the coming of her brother ; for the card 
 he had picked up in the Ajaccio Club was, 
 
 Af. Antonio Paoli, 
 
 CHAPTER II. 
 
 COMING. 
 
 MR. BARNES divides his time on the little balcony of 
 the inn where we first meet him, between alternately gazing 
 impatiently up the Bastia road for the dust of moving 
 horses, glancing at his watch and looking at the English 
 gun-boat, in hopes she will sail ; all the time industriously 
 smoking cigarettes. He is interrupted while rolling the 
 third of these little soothers of human nature, by th 
 return of Mateo with his breakfast 
 
 " Put it on that table there ! " 
 
 " Signor, this is the shady side of the balcony,** says 
 the innkeeper. 
 
 " But the other has the view ! That's the ticket ! Now 
 those fellows can't come here and kill each other, by any 
 chance, without my getting my eye on them ! That's 
 better chianti than I thought you had in the island." 
 Saying this, Mr. Barnes proceeds to make his breakfast 
 with a very tolerable appetite. 
 
 Mateo anxiously waits near him and at last asks 
 
MR. BARNES OF NEW YOU*. II 
 
 eagerly, M Do you think these men who are to kill each 
 other wUl come soon ? " 
 
 41 Yes ; but what does that matter to you ? " 
 
 * They might want some breakfast also. They might 
 be hungry before they kill each other." 
 
 "Ah! that's what interests you," laughs Mr. Barnes. 
 You only look at the duello from a gastronomical and 
 Business standpoint you've never seen one ? " 
 
 44 No. We kill in Corsica, but not in that way. Have 
 you enjoyed a duel before, Signer?" remarks Mateo, 
 removing the emptied egg-shells from before his guest 
 and arranging the fruit. 
 
 " Yes ; once, between cow-boys in Texas. They killed 
 each other in ten seconds. It will suit me very well 
 never to view another." 
 
 " I should have liked to have seen it ; it must have 
 been grand ? " mumbles the old man. 
 
 But the recollection of the most terrible sight of his 
 life makes Mr. Barnes anxious about his present episode. 
 He rises and again looks up the road coming from the 
 Interior not even a dust cloud not a sign of her. 
 
 " If Marina comes, her brother can't fight if he hat 
 any feeling for her. I couldn't, with such a sister as that 
 I'd take no chances of leaving her alone in the world," 
 he half mutters. 
 
 Rolling another cigarette, he is about to sit down again, 
 when, as he turns toward the water, he sees a boat rowed 
 by a couple of stout native fishermen rapidly round one 
 of the points of rocks that outline the little bay. A 
 moment after, her bow, driven by a vigorous stroke or 
 two, is well up on the shelving beach. In her stern sits 
 the English officer of the night before, accompanied by 
 another, who is doubtless his second. 
 
 44 The beggars are ahead of her," Mr. Barnes mutter*, 
 "111 have to do what I can myself. Anyhow it's best to 
 tee the Englishman first." 
 
 As the two officers land, and look along the beach, and 
 then up at the inn, apparently expecting to see their an- 
 tagonist, a wild thought flashes through Barnes' brain ; 
 Marina's brother is not yet here ; why not present him- 
 self as the brother's representative, offer an apology from 
 him to the Englishman, and send him back to his ship, 
 which has already hoisted in her boats, and is 
 
<* MR. BARNES OF NEW YORK 
 
 about to have the harbor. A grim smile passes across 
 his face at this novel idea, but, even as he glances about 
 to see that the Corsican is not yet near enough to 
 vent his plan succeeding, he rejects it as a trick unworthy 
 of him, feeling certain that if Marina ever discovered 
 he had juggled with what she would considei her broth- 
 er's honor, she would doubtless hate him for such im- 
 pertinent interference. 
 
 The next instant he has taken his line, and impatiently 
 tossing away his hall-smoked cigarette, he calls out, J 
 say, you chaps down there! Come up here and have 
 some breakfast with me ! I haven't seen an English face 
 for a month ! I'm Barnes, of New York ! " 
 
 The two British ofti :t in astonishment at the 
 
 familiarity of his address, and one of them, the principal 
 of the affair, after a short pause, says, taking off his 
 and bowing in almost mock politeness, " Much obliged 
 for your kind invitation, but we are not hungry, and are 
 here on an affair of business, Mister Barnes, of New 
 York!" 
 
 The other, a more morose creature, mutters to himself 
 1 Curse the infernal impudence of Barnes, of New York," 
 during this, taking out of the boat a couple of ominous- 
 looking packages. 
 
 They think I'm a fool, cogitates Barnes, of New York, 
 and that's half the negotiation. An acknowledged idiot 
 can generally drive a better bargain than a wise n. 
 people are not on their guard against his wisdom. That 
 makes a great deal of what is commonly called " Fool's 
 
 Mr. Barnes, of New York, has the peculiar faculty of 
 always leaving as a first impression, the fact that he i 
 otter imbecile, though on further acquaintance most peo- 
 ple think they have made a mistake. 
 
 A moment after, he shouts in reply, "That's the busi- 
 ness I want to see you about ! Come up and have a glass 
 of wine with me in the shade. That'll be better than my 
 going down to you. That shingle below, now the sun is 
 on it, would roast a shrimp." 
 
 The two officers hold an undertone consultation, and 
 then ascend the half-decayed little wooden stairway that 
 eads from the shore to the inn. They are both 
 win* men One, toe principal of the affair it 
 
MR. BARNES OF NEW YORK. X j 
 
 probably about thirty years of age, and #ears 
 the full dress uniform of a lieutenant in Her 
 Majesty's navy : the other, who is but little over 
 twenty, that of a midshipman in the same service. They 
 are both generally very much the same sort of fellows 
 who fought under Nelson, and are described by Captair 
 Marryat, with the addition of a century's advance in re 
 finement. The man of the night before is fair, reason 
 ably tali, and apparently amiable ; the other, darker, 
 shorter, and more inclined to be punctiliously blood 
 thirsty, as seconds in affairs of honor generally are. He 
 has rather a bull-dog countenance, and, with the reck 
 lessness of youth, is apparently determined his principa' 
 hall smell powder. 
 
 Arrived on the little balcony, the latter advances witti 
 quarter-deck decision towards Mr. Barnes, who has taken 
 another fruitless glance up the Bastia road, and speaks 
 to the point 
 
 44 You say you want to see us on this affair what a* 
 fair?" 
 
 "fits affair of honor he's come here to fight ? Hasn't 
 he?" replies the American, indicating the principal by his 
 glance. 
 
 "With whom?" inquires the second, diplomatically. 
 
 "With Monsieur Paoli, sous lieutenant in the French 
 navy !" says Mr. Barnes. 
 
 "Ah ! you came then as a friend of the Frenchman F 
 
 44 No ! I am here on my own hook ! M 
 
 "Then by what right ?" The Englishman id 
 
 drawing himself up haughtily. 
 
 44 1 am a friend of his sister s ! " interrupts the American 
 
 M His sister !" ejaculates the second in surprise. The 
 Englishmen look at each other, and the principal turns 
 iway with a soft look in his eyes. 
 
 His second does not regard the matter in the same* 
 light, as he sneers, " Ah, breakers ahead ! I guess you're 
 his sister's lover, and perhaps are spoons enough on the 
 sister to take the sister's brother's place !" 
 
 " I am not spoons on the sister, but if I did take his 
 sister's brother's place in front of you, sir, you would not 
 like it. I am Barnes, of New York !" The American 
 folds it difficult to keep his temper. 
 
 This oeculiar repetition of "Barnes, of New York" 'y 
 
14 MR BARNES OF NEW YORK. 
 
 dently sets his hearer to thinking, for he suddenly ex 
 claims, "Not Barnes, of New York? the celebrated rifle 
 shot, who won the International off-hand cup, and whose 
 shooting with the pistol in Paris astonished the French- 
 tys so much, the Times said ? " 
 
 44 That's my name !" The answer is neither modest 
 nor logical, but it is true, for Barnes' skill with all kinds 
 of fire-arms has made his name celebrated the world over. 
 
 "Then you're the man who can drive tacks, split 
 cards and hit swinging bullets ? " Both the Britons look 
 at him with much respect Fora man to be admired in 
 England has only to beat everybody else at some sport that 
 calls for nerve and pluck ; and Mr. Barnes, in the shoot- 
 ing gallery, or before the butts in the open field, is, to use 
 an Americanism, " on top of the heap.' 
 
 44 No ! I don't care to stand before you," says the sec- 
 ond. " I'd like to have one more chance of seeing Eng- 
 land ; as I will, in spite of those brutes of Egyptians, the 
 cholera, and all that ; but before your pistol I'd have 
 none !" 
 
 This speech has no fear in it, it s merely a statement 
 of fact 
 
 44 But we must settle this matter quickly," he goes on. 
 *The Vulture " (he points to the gun-boat) " will sail in 
 half an hour. That Frenchman must be here in ten 
 minutes or we return to our ship." 
 
 44 Then let me give you some wine ; it always makes 
 human nature more kindly! Mateo! glasses for the 
 gentlemen !" 
 
 While this is being done, Barnes goes out of the inn, 
 and takes another long searching gaze up the B 
 road. At first he can see no sign of moving life in the 
 morning light ; after a time he is almost sure there 
 little cloud of rising dust between two hills some 
 miles distant If that is she, it will be fifteen minutes 
 before Marina comes. As he turns away, two figures in 
 French uniforms are rapidly approaching him along the 
 road that comes from Ajaccio ; and he knows that though 
 the sister may be too late, the brother will be in time. 
 Returning to the Englishmen again, he quietly says : " I 
 know the interference of an outsider ir. such a matter as 
 this is unusual, and may be impertinent, but before you 
 fight the man I want to tell you of his sister." 
 
MR. BARNES OF NEW YORK. 1J 
 
 After a moment's pause, the principal now for the first 
 time speaks. His voice, in contrast to his second's, is 
 full of feeling ; his manner cultured, as he says : " His 
 sister ? What can any man's sister have to do with a 
 miserable affair of this kind ? " His voice softens on the 
 word sister, while the other, his second, turns his eyes 
 seaward, as if looking towards his home in old England. 
 
 " A great deal," is the reply. " 1 lave you no sister ? " 
 
 " Yes, a dear one ! " says the sailor. " But my sister 
 in this matter takes her chance of losing a brother, and 
 his sister must do the same. For God's sake don't talk 
 to me of home and sisters, and all that, at such a mo- 
 ment as this ! " 
 
 As he hastily drinks down a glass of wine to conceal 
 an emotion that does him honor, Barnes now knows that, 
 if he makes no mistake, his point is won. 
 
 " I won't talk to you of your sister ; I'll only speak to 
 you of his." And he gives them, in a few words, a de- 
 scription of the old Corsican home on the slope of the 
 mountain ; of the young and beautiful girl he has seen 
 only the other day ; her romantic temperament that has 
 but one passion, her love for her brother ; the only one 
 of her blood upon earth ; and her expectation of that 
 very day meeting him on his return from long foreign 
 service. 
 
 " After what I have told you," Barnes concludes, " will 
 you be the man to prevent that meeting ? " 
 
 The question is put straight, and is answered squarely. 
 " God forbid ! Not if I can avoid it ! " 
 
 " You can avoid it ! " 
 
 "How?" 
 
 " By making an apology ! " 
 
 This is answered with equal squareness and more force 
 by the second. " I'm d d if he shall ! I won't let 
 him ! " 
 
 Mr Barnes wonders how he got on to the quarter- 
 deck, and more, why he was selected by one who is evi- 
 dently a gentleman, to support him in an affair of this 
 delicate nature. 
 
 But the principal interrupts his second, saying, " You 
 have enlisted my sympathy for the young lady you de- 
 scribe, but her brother is a naval officer like me. Your 
 appeal would do eq-i :illy well to his commanding officer 
 
it MR. BARNES OP NEW YORK. 
 
 to prevent his going into action ; and how do you sup- 
 pose his commanding officer would answer you ? Besides 
 I did not challenge the beggar ; I don't want to kill him; 
 I only want to protect myself." 
 
 " And if he pops at my friend, my friend shall pop at 
 him ! " rejoins the second, who is now becoming excited. 
 
 Barnes pays no attention to this remark, but waits till 
 he catches the eye of the principal, then looking him 
 full in the face, says, " Very well, if he kills you ? " 
 
 1 There'll be one less Englishman for the Egyptians to 
 shoot at ! " 
 
 " And if you kill him ? " says Mr. Barnes. 
 
 " I have told you already I don't want to kill him. I 
 don't mind taking my chance of life or death on the 
 quarter-deck along with the rest in action, though I want 
 no private blood-stains upon me ; but a man, with these 
 :n chaps, out here, must uphold the honor of the 
 British sailor and that flag ! " points to the beautiful 
 
 ensign of his country, floating from the gaff of the dis- 
 tant gun-boat, that -wherever seen, the world over, means 
 protection for the Anglo-Saxon race. "Situated as I 
 would you apologize ? " he asked. 
 
 " Yes, if I were in the wrong ! " says Mr. liarnes. 
 
 " But I am not in the wrong ; at least not more so 
 than the other. This miserable affair all came about 
 from a picture of Punch, intended to make men laugh, 
 not murder each other." 
 
 " Ah, yes, political cartoons, when witty, make one side 
 laugh, and the other side savage ; I wonder how many 
 murders Punch and Puck have produced ? " 
 
 The young naval officer is now laughing at the remem- 
 brance of the picture. " It was so awfully jolly, you see. 
 The lazy British lion ha ! ha ! was eating all the fruit 
 the French monkey was shaking down to him " and he 
 now describes the cut to his companion, who bursts into 
 a loud guffaw and says, " A deuced nice mouthful it will 
 be for the lion ; I wonder how we chaps '11 like the 
 dish, who have to do the crunching for the lion ! " 
 
 Mr. Barnes takes another look up the Bastia road ; the 
 dust cloud has left the hills and is now coming across the 
 plain along the banks of the Gravonna; it is a little 
 larger, consequently nearer. But the two French officers 
 are within three minutes' walk of the inn. He catches 
 
MR. BAKNES OF NEW YORK. 17 
 
 Ws man's eye and now strikes for the last time, saying. 
 " For some political cause, it hardly matters what now. 
 you got into a dispute that was not personal." 
 
 "Not till he called me a liar * " 
 
 " For which you knocked him down ; you've had the 
 best of the affair so far," insinuates the mediator. 
 
 " You s-e a man has to do something when a man 
 calls him that ; he can't swallow such a name ; I can't 
 anyway ! " rejoins the Englishman. 
 
 " Yes," says Mr. Barnes diplomatically, " I should not 
 like to have any one call m^ a liar ; he might be telling 
 the truth, you know ; I should have knocked him down 
 too, but having knocked him down I should not care to 
 kill him." 
 
 " Neither do I ! " 
 
 " Then why not tender an apology will you ? " 
 
 " Y-e-s ! " says the young man rather reluctantly after 
 consideration. 
 
 " Then you do it against my advice, and if you do 
 send one, curse me if I'll carry it to a crowing Parlez- 
 vous ; I wouldn't mind so much if it wasn't a frog* 
 eater ! " With these words the second rises, goes to the 
 other end of the balcony, gazes at the gun-boat and 
 whistles under his breath the air of an old sea-song. 
 
 Barnes glances after him in disgust ; he likes bull-dog 
 determination, but is too much of a cosmopolitan to have 
 anything but contempt for bull-dog brains and insular 
 prejudice. 
 
 " Nevertheless I shall offer an apology," says the Eng- 
 lish gentleman, after looking at the English bull-dog with 
 a slight smile, " but one that can in no way degrade me 
 or lower the uniform I wear." 
 
 " That's the answer of a brave man and a brick ! " 
 cries the enthusiastic Barnes, grasping his hand. " I 
 wouldn't have you do more." 
 
 " But in case he should not receive my explanation ? " 
 
 " He shall receive it ; I'll guarantee that he does. I 
 have something here " (Mr. Barnes is thinking of Marina's 
 laurel flowers) *' that will make him receive any reasonable 
 explanation." 
 
 " Ah ! something from his sister ; " says the English- 
 man. " I'm glad of that ; I've no wish to injure him 
 more than J h^ve done, and no wish that he should in- 
 
*8 MR. BARNES OF NEW YORK. 
 
 jure me. My friend there is not just the man I should 
 have liked to have brought with me on such an affair 
 Though true as steel and brave as any, he's too hot- 
 headed." He speaks this under his breath. 
 
 "The pugnacity of youth," suggests Barnes in the 
 same tone. 
 
 ' Yes. I should not have brought him, but none of mj 
 ward -room messmates could get leave, I'm sorry if any 
 thing he has said annoyed you." 
 
 " Not at all ! I took it for what it was worth ! " 
 
 Barnes is here interrupted by the object of their col- 
 loquy advancing to them and saying to his comrade, 
 " You have decided to send an apology ? " 
 
 " Yes ! I shall simply say that I am sorry I knocked 
 him down.** 
 
 44 No more?" 
 
 44 Not another word ! " 
 
 44 And if he does not receive it ?* 
 
 44 Then I'll defend my life and my honor as best 1 
 can," comes the reply. 
 
 ! '11 take that message with a great deal of pleasure ? * 
 says the second. 
 
 " Why ? ** this question is from Barnes. 
 
 The answer comes straight as a shot M Because I 
 know Frenchy will never receive it Curse him ! ** With 
 that this British mastiff produces two old-fashioned ship's 
 pistols of the kind used in the last generation, and be- 
 gins to examine and test them. The name of their mak- 
 er, Jarvis, and the date of their manufacture, 1854, is 
 stamped upon them. 
 
 "You're not going to use those things?** says Mr, 
 Barnes, glancing with contempt at the weapons, and no- 
 ticing their age and maker. 
 
 44 Why not ? They are the only ones I could get with- 
 out having questions asked; they'll kill a man as well as 
 the best duelling pistol ever made." 
 
 " Are you much of a shot ? " remarked Barnes to the 
 principal. 
 
 " The worst in the world ! f ' is the reply. 
 
 "Then you are just the man to be deadly with one of 
 these ! " Barnes picks up the weapons and examines 
 them. They are simply old percussion pistols with very 
 large bores, long barrels, and timber enough in their 
 
MR. BARNES OF NEW YORK. M) 
 
 stocks to make a pair of walking-canes. He puts them 
 down, noting as he does so, that one has scratched upon 
 its stock, apparently done in some moment of idleness 
 with a knife, a name, "Edwin Gerard Anstruther," 
 though the other is free from all inscription. He has 
 been rather curious to discover who the English officer 
 is, and notes this with some interest, as the two men have 
 carefully avoided calling each other by name during 
 their interview with him. 
 
 Mr. Barnes, however, continues, " I'm morally certain 
 a crack shot, if he pointed one of these things straight at 
 his man, would miss him ; but a duffer with a pistol 
 would be sure not to hold true, and would be very liable 
 to blow the top of his opponent's head off. You're not 
 anxious to do that, are you ? " 
 
 " No !" slowly says the Englishman. 
 
 "Then I'll teach you how to miss him." With that he 
 takes a couple of sighting shots, discharging the pistols 
 at the face of the cliff that is near him, and noting with 
 careful accuracy the places where the bullets struck. 
 " Ah, now I can tell you exactly what they'll do at twelve 
 paces, as they both shoot pretty much the same. Their 
 elevation is near enough, but hold either of them two 
 feet to the right of your man and your ball '11 go plump 
 through him." 
 
 " And if, " says the second with a laugh, " you hold 
 two feet to the left of him, how then ? " 
 
 " Then, standing where one of you must probably 
 stand, you'd have a very fair chance of bagging one of 
 your Corsican boatmen." 
 
 " Then what shall I do to miss him ? " inquires the 
 lieutenant. 
 
 "Shoot right straight at him and he's safe as if he 
 wasn't shot at ;" triumphantly replies Barnes. 
 
 During this dissertation upon fire-arms, the English 
 combatant has been looking seaward. His nautical eye 
 has caught a sign of the immediate departure of his 
 vessel, for he suddenly says, " If my opponent doesn't 
 come soon, he'll not find me here. I can wait but little 
 longer. The Vulture is taking up her slack cable." 
 
 The second, who has been looking anxiously down the 
 Ajaccio road and has spied the two French officers, cries 
 quickly, " That's your man, isn't it ? " 
 
IP MR. BARNES OF NEW YORK, 
 
 "Yes," responds the other, and then hurriedly says, 
 bowing politely, " I'm much obliged to you, Mr. Barnes of 
 New York ; you will excuse our not giving our names 
 and asking you to forget our faces, for were this affair 
 known end how it may it would mean a court-martial 
 for both of us." 
 
 "You can be sure I'll forget to-morrow I ever saw 
 you ! Not complimentary but satisfactory," laughs the 
 American. 
 
 The lieutenant shortly adds, " I shall remember my 
 promise ; you have my word." Then the two Britons 
 descend the stairs, the midshipman remarking to his 
 companion, soto vocc^ " That American, Barnes of New 
 York, is a devilish queer bird ! " 
 
 As they disappear, the two men in French uniform are 
 just entering the inn ; but the dust cloud on the Bastia 
 road is now not two miles away. Circling into the air 
 like a tropic water-spout, it is coming as fast as tired 
 horses can bring it By the aid of his field-glass Barnes 
 discovers, in this cloud, moving forms; one a female 
 figure, eager and impatient, advancing before the 
 Something in its graceful pose tells him it is Marina. 
 If he can postpone her brother's meeting till she comes, 
 no man with blood in his body could fight a duel if that 
 sister implored him to desist Barnes turns hurriedly to 
 the man whose face tells him is the one to whom he must 
 address himself, but as he advances he hears him whisper 
 to the erect military figure that strides at his side, "Re- 
 member, Andrl, it is 'a la mortt ' " 
 
 CHAPTER IIL 
 
 A LA MORTj 
 
 THE man to whom these ominous words are addressed, 
 is one of the officers of the French garrison at Ajaccio 
 He smiles a grim smile and simply says, " I would not 
 have come out with you had I supposed you meant any- 
 thing else, Paoli ; there is but one way to destroy the 
 shame of that brutal brand ; " glancing significantly at a 
 deep black discoloration on the young Corsican's face 
 
MR. BARNES OF NEW YORK. *g 
 
 u Believe me, I have been in too many affairs before, 
 not to bring my principal out of this one with honor ! " 
 
 And he says truly, Andre* de Belloc is lately from the 
 department of Algeria, where a greater license exists in 
 the custom of the duello, than is permitted in other diyis- 
 ions of the army of France. He wears on his breast medals 
 for gallantry in the Franco-German war, and the san- 
 guinary street fights of the Parisian Commune, but is most 
 widely known for his determined conduct in several des- 
 perate meetings forced upon him by his brother officers 
 in that portion of Africa to which France sends her best 
 troops to gain the practice of war. Like most other 
 deadly men, Captain de Belloc has a kindly disposition, 
 and until strife is absolutely forced upon him, a very 
 peaceable manner. 
 
 "Understand me!" he continues; "you place this 
 matter utterly and wholly in my hands. In this affair^ 
 Paoli, I am your commanding officer ! " 
 
 " Entirely ! All I want is to get face to face with the 
 man who placed this upon me and then ! " 
 
 The young Corsican makes a significant gesture and 
 his face becomes deadly pale under all its sailor tan of 
 sun and wind, bringing the mark he touches slightly 
 with his hand, into vivid contrast with his complexion. 
 This is, like his sister's, one peculiar to the blondt 
 the Latin race and found only in Castillians and Italians 
 of the purest race and blood, exquisitely fair in contrast 
 to their dark, flashing eyes ; in women, giving great 
 beauty ; and in men, great nobility of expression. The 
 voice of the young man would be almost that of Marina 
 were it not full of suppressed bitterness. He wears the 
 French naval uniform of his rank, and looks taller and 
 more dignified to Barnes than that gentleman's remem- 
 brance of his appearance the night before ; but no 
 man ever seems very commanding, immediately after re- 
 covering from a knock-down blow. As he half hears, 
 half guesses this portion of their conversation, the 
 American knows that he has a more difficult task before 
 him with the Corsican than he had supposed ; one in 
 which the chance of effecting his object is small if not 
 wholly desperate. However, he steps up to the two men 
 and begs to speak to Monsieur Antonio Paoli. 
 
 At his words the young man hesitates for a moment, 
 
f2 MR. BARNES OF NEW YORK. 
 
 and then says, " You must excuse me for a short time, 
 sir ; after I have seen these gentlemen down there 1 am 
 at your service. At present they claim my attention ! " 
 He points to the Englishmen, for he and de Belloc are 
 low on the balcony of the inn, looking down at their 
 two opponents who are anxiously pacing the shingle and 
 glancing uneasily at their man-of-war, whose funnel is 
 now pouring out one solid mass of deep black smoke. 
 
 " If you knew my errand, I think you would give me a 
 minute before that other business." 
 
 At the American's first word, Andre* de Belloc has 
 turned towards him ; while he is speaking, the French- 
 man is studying his face ; he now says with military 
 abruptness, " I have seen you before, sir ; you have been 
 in Algeria?" 
 
 " Once ! Lion shooting ! " replies Barnes. " And now 
 I remember you, Captain de Belloc ! " 
 
 ' Ah ! Is it not Monsieur Barnes, of New York ? For 
 the moment I had forgotten your face, but I always re- 
 member your shot at the black lion ! It's lucky, A 
 nio, you have not to face Mr. Barnes* pistol this morning ; 
 but pardon me M. Antonio Paoli, M. Barnes, of New 
 Yor 
 
 It is curious how appellations hang to men ; that "of 
 New York," by chance applied at first, had followed 
 Barnes all over Europe, until now half the untravelled 
 foreigners who knew him, imagined New York was a 
 family estate of his ; and one or two ladies at Monte 
 Carlo and similar places had made desperate love to him 
 on account of his surpassingly fair inheritance, for they 
 had heard New York was a great and rich city. 
 
 As the two young men bow, Mr. Barnes whispers, 
 " Can't you give me one minute ? " 
 
 De Belloc, catching this, says hastily, " Yes, one min- 
 ute ! I shall not want you, Antonio, until I have had a 
 few words with those gentlemen down there." 
 
 " Thanks ! very much ! " says Barnes, as the captain 
 goes down the stairs carrying in his hand a couple of 
 cavalry sabres and a pair of French duelling small- 
 swords. 
 
 " You have a message for me from from whom ? " 
 says the boy, for with his twenty-three years he is hardly 
 yet a man ; but as he asks, he looks as if even now he 
 
MR. BARNES OF NEW YORK. 23 
 
 guessed whence the message came, for the firte of battle 
 has left his eyes and a softer light is in them that makes 
 them very beautiful. 
 
 " From one that you left a child, but who is now a 
 woman ; whom but a night ago I saw waiting for your 
 coming in the old house of your family ; the fires of 
 welcome for you blazing on the hills around. If the 
 Englishman offers any accommodation think of her ; and, 
 for her sake, accept it ; for this is from your sister ! " 
 says Barnes pressing the laurel flowers of Marina now 
 faded and dead, but even more fragrant in their death 
 than in their life, into his hand. Then he gives Antonio 
 the message that she sent in almost her words and 
 with a feeling that makes him eloquent, for the thought 
 of tht> girl and her love for her brother carry him away 
 from his every-day self. 
 
 " From my sister ! From Marina ! " gasps the boy, 
 kissing the flowers, while tears of affection and longing 
 come into his eyes ! " For her sake yes ! " But as he 
 passes his hand over his face he touches the mark of the 
 blow, the fire in his eyes burns up the tears and his look 
 becomes almost that of a savage. 
 
 " Remember your sister ? " pleads Barnes. 
 
 " I will remember my sister ; for she would not wish 
 to see me more if I came back to her polluted by that 
 brute's hand." 
 
 Barnes is about to speak again, but the voice of Andre" 
 de Belloc comes from below, " Quick, Antonio ! Your 
 opponent's ship is about to sail, and time presses ! " 
 
 The young man starts. " To think that I could linger 
 with that man so near me ! " he mutters, and then says 
 hastily, " When this is over I'll thank you for being my 
 sister's messenger. Have no fear for me, Marina's 
 flowers shall be my talisman ! " He places them in 
 his breast very tenderly, but goes down to the beach 
 carrying in his face the look of a man who has an insult 
 to avenge and who means to avenge it. 
 
 Barnes turns his eyes towards the Bastia road the 
 dust cloud is still a mile away it will be five minutes 
 before the sister comes. A little time, but on it hangs 
 her brother's fate. 
 
 Mr. Barnes slowly follows the young man half down th$ 
 wooden stairs ; and, from a little platform* watches th 
 
24 MR. BARNES OF NEW YORK. 
 
 affair that now moves to a climax on the beach below 
 The scene, in contrast to the action on it, is calm and 
 placid, and lighted by the rising sun now high enough to 
 give it all the mellow colors that make so much of the beauty 
 in a southern picture. To the left, the quiet town but 
 half awakened to its lazy Topic day, lies white and 
 peaceful in its groves of olive and orange and little hill- 
 side vineyards. In front of it, a few light rigged craft 
 of the Mediterranean sit sluggish in the harbor ; a little 
 farther from the shore, the gun-boat rests upon the water ; 
 her hull half obscured by a mass of smoke. 
 
 Opposite, the red granite rocks of Les Isles Etuarna* 
 dint rise upright from the sea, that from theii base spreads 
 across in one vast mass of deep blue water without a rip- 
 ple to make it white, or sea-gull's wing to ruffle its sur- 
 face, straight to the little beach of shingle that, out- 
 ! by two small rocky points, makes the arena upon 
 which the four men stand to arbitrate a dispute of this 
 generation, by the sanguinary code of a darker and 
 more cruel age. The two seconds are in conference in 
 the center, each with his principal a few paces in his 
 rear. 
 
 The English lieutenant is abstractedly picking up 
 pebbles and throwing them into the water, keeping an ear, 
 however, on his representative's negotiations; apparently 
 relying on Mr. Barnes* assurance, he does not expect the 
 affair will end very seriously. The young Corsican, on 
 the contrary, stands erect, watching impatiently Andre* de 
 Belloc and only anxious to face the Englishman, upon 
 whom his eye, whenever it rests, glares with passionate 
 anger. 
 
 Old Mateo, who has during the preceding events 
 been engaged in hanging out linen to dry upon the cacti 
 and orange trees of his garden, now comes down and 
 gazing intently over Barnes' shoulder whispers to him, 
 " Those English are queer people ; that one there does 
 not appear to hate ; but the Corsican Diavohl If the 
 other had a hundred lives they would not be enough to 
 make him happy ! " 
 
 As he notes this appearance in the men, Barnes him- 
 self begins to have an idea that his mediation has been 
 a mistake. The next minute, as the affair develops, he 
 begins to see how fatal has been his error 
 
MR BARNES OP NEW YORK, 
 
 The first words that come up to him are from Antonio's 
 second. 
 
 " I have not had the pleasure of hearing your name as 
 yet, Monsieur; permit me to again introduce myself as 
 Andr de Belloc, Captain in the Chasseurs d' Afrique l 
 Army of France." 
 
 " I decline to give my name, or that of my principal, in 
 return ! " says the English midshipman. " For this 
 reason : the custom of your av.ny does not forbid duel* 
 ing; the British Admiralty does. If this gets out we 
 risk a court-martial, you don't ! " 
 
 The Frenchman starts angrily at this most uncom- 
 promising declaration ; but recovering himself he says 
 haughtily, " All the same, you could have trusted your 
 name to me with perfect safety ; your uniform proves you 
 a gentleman " (this with a slight sneer), " so I shall not 
 stand upon strict etiquette and withdraw my man." 
 
 His face is sterner than it was before the Englishman's 
 unlucky speech. Had it not contained an insinuation 
 that, in cose of investigation, his name was not safe in 
 de Belloc's knowledge and honor, that gentleman might 
 have been in kinder mood and a different termination 
 been made to the affair. 
 
 " And now to the business in hand," says the French 
 officer. " My friend, who has placed his honor in my 
 charge, will meet yours either with small-swords or cavalry 
 sabres ; I have brought them with me in pairs of equal 
 length, weight and design ; the small-swords are the 
 weapons of the civilian, the sabres," de Belloc takes 
 one of them in his hand and looks at it kindly " are the 
 weapons of the soldier. Which do you choose ? " 
 
 " Neither, if you please ; I know too much for that. 
 Vou don't get any advantage of me in that way. I'm no 
 innocent, to let my man, who doesn't fence, be chopped 
 to pieces by your man who does ; and so I've brought 
 these two good British barkers that'll do the business 
 just as well as any fancy weapons ! " and the English 
 middy with a smile at his own far-sightedness produces 
 the two ships' pistols. 
 
 At this unfortunate speech the cigarette he has been 
 carefully rolling tears in Barnes' hands. He could as- 
 sault the man for making it ; for though he was doing 
 no more than his duty in protecting the rights and safety 
 
24 MR. BARNES OF NEW YORK. 
 
 of his principal, if safety there could be in such an 
 affair, still he was doing it with so little tact and dis- 
 cretion, that every word he said contained an implied 
 unfairness on the part of de Belloc, that jarred each 
 nerve in that punctilious Frenchman's body. 
 
 44 If that beggar keeps on in that strain," says Barnes 
 to Mateo, "in another minute the two seconds '11 be fight- 
 ing themselves." Here he pulls out his tobacco-pouch 
 and begins to manufacture carefully another cigarette. 
 This devotion of Barnes to the smoking habit, implies 
 no lack of interest in the affair he watches ; had he been 
 about to stand before the Englishman's pistol himself, he 
 would have still rolled and smoked cigarettes. 
 
 Indeed, this remark of the American had nearly be- 
 come the truth; for at one time during the sailor's 
 address, de Belloc has been about to angrily reply, but 
 checking himself, he bites his lip and murmurs savagely, 
 4 M/r/f/" These insinuations made him bitter, and 
 probably produced the astounding proposition he after- 
 wards advanced. 
 
 However, he now merely remarks that " Swords, in 
 Europe, arc considered the proper thing in settling 
 putes among gentlemen," and that he had supposed an 
 English officer would understand the use of the weapon 
 he carried at his side when on duty. 
 
 44 But my friend is the challenged party," answers the 
 Englishman ; " and though I don't know much about 
 these affairs, still I know that we have the right to choose 
 the tools : as such I demand pistols. Besides, we can't 
 stay here over five minutes now ; and the only thing that 
 can decide our business in that time is what I insist on 
 using ! " 
 
 'Very well, Monsieur, I waive my proposition; we'll 
 use your pistols ; " remarks Captain de Belloc, examining 
 the weapons the Englishman offers to him. 
 
 After an inspection he continues, " These do not seem 
 arms of precision and may not carry as sighted. Has 
 your friend " he indicates the lieutenant by a move of 
 his head " ever used these before ?' 
 
 ** Not that I know of ! " says the second ; and, turning 
 to his principal, he asks, " Have you ever fired these 
 krr*'" 
 ft ever in my life 1 " is the unhesitating repi> 
 
MR. BARNES OF NEW YORK. 27 
 
 " That is sufficient we will use your weapons, Mon- 
 sieur ! " Whereupon the two seconds begin to carefully 
 load the pistols, the young Englishman watching them 
 carelessly and the Corsican doing the same with more 
 eagerness. On de Belloc's picking up the sabre, Antonio 
 had removed his uniform coat, and since that time has been 
 standing in his shirt and trowsers, a model of youthful 
 grace. On seeing them load the pistols he immediately 
 replaces it, and buttoning it up tight to the throat, leaves 
 no white spot to attract his opponent's aim, save where 
 Marina's laurel flowers show upon his breast. 
 
 Old Mateo, who, though excited at the thought of 
 blood, never forgets business, now suddenly whispers to 
 Barnes, " If one of those men are wounded, I have a 
 nice bed in my inn, free from vermin and dirt. Couldn't 
 you have him brought here ? My charges shall be for 
 the Englishman, little ; and for the Corsican, nothing. 
 I heard you call him Paoli, and any one would do some- 
 thing for that name. Please do what you can to help an 
 old inn-keeper ; it will be better than taking a bleeding 
 man to the city for the surgeon to see ! " 
 
 At these last words Barnes suddenly starts, whistles 
 meditatively for a moment, and then drops his cigarette, 
 for now he sees a way to postpone ; which, under the 
 peculiar circumstances, means ending the whole matter. 
 
 " Thank you, Mateo ! " he cries. " You've a level head 
 on your old body ! " and goes quickly down to the beach. 
 
 The pistols have just been loaded, and de Belloc has 
 chosen his weapon as Barnes approaches the men. 
 
 " You must excuse an outsider speaking at such a 
 moment, but outsiders generally see most of the game, 
 and I do this in the name of common humanity. You've 
 forgotten something ; there's no surgeon upon the 
 ground ! " 
 
 The Frenchman looks suddenly about "You are right, 
 M. Barnes," he says; " I had until now presumed that these 
 gentlemen had brought their ship's doctor with them." 
 
 " Why, we had counted on your regimental saw-bones ! " 
 replies the English midshipman. 
 
 " He would have been here, but he has lately joined 
 us; and not being acclimated, he was suddenly struck 
 down this morning by the malarial fever common to 
 island ! " 
 
28 MR. BARNES OF NEW YORK. 
 
 " Our surgeon couldn't leave the ship on the morning 
 of our sailing ; to have pressed the matter might have 
 n our captain a hint of our business ; and then, 
 you'd have whistled for us in \ 
 
 At this both seconds go to their principals, and after a 
 moment's conference with Antonio, the captain turns 
 and says, "The gentleman I represent still demands thai 
 the affair shall go on." 
 
 "A surgeon does not count for much when it is 4 la 
 nfort, as this must be ! " interrupts the young Corsican 
 with a laugh that has a cruel ring. 
 
 1 1 is English antagonist had been on the point of speak- 
 ing ; but at these words he checks himself. The second 
 answers for him. 
 
 " All right, it's as fair for one as the other ; what's a 
 Frenchman's chance is an Englishman's chance ; surgeon 
 or no surgeon, we'll fight it out ! So now we'll toss 
 for corners as quickly as you please, for that ship is 
 hoisting in her side-ladders and when she sails we must 
 be on the quarter-deck ! Give me your lucky penny," 
 he continues, turning to the lieutenant, " I'll win the 
 shadiest side for you." 
 
 The latter silently takes from his vest-pocket a silver 
 English crown piece and hands it to his second. A mo- 
 ment after the toss is made and the Englishman wins. 
 The distance is settled at twelve paces, the standing 
 points marked on the shingle by a couple of small white 
 stones. 
 
 The two seconds turn to their principals to place them 
 in position and give them their weapons. As they do 
 so, the English sailor gives back to his principal the coin, 
 saying, " Here's your lucky penny ; it's won you the 
 place with the least sun in your eyes, that's something." 
 The English lieutenant pockets the coin, but as he does 
 this whispers hurriedly to his comrade, and the midship- 
 man, after a few words of apparent dissent, comes again 
 to the center and calling de Belloc to him, says in a tone 
 significantly careless, "By the bye, I forgot to state that 
 my man, before this affair goes any further, wishc 
 apologize ! " 
 
 "To apologize ?" echoes de Belloc in surprise. 
 
 M Yes, Mr. Frenchman, he desires me to say for him 
 that he's sorry he knocked that young man down. 
 
MR. BARNES OF NEW YORK. 2ft 
 
 blackened his ey? nnd spoiled his beautiful features ! n 
 The very nonchalance of the Englishman's tone is almost 
 an insult ; in fact, as he speaks, Barnes knows that he 
 wishes to make it one, though compelled by his principal 
 to say the words. 
 
 " Very well ! " says de Belloc after a short, gloomy 
 pause, during which his face changes from rage to a 
 sneering smile. " You have made your proposition ! Now 
 hear mine ! " his voice coming from him very slowly but 
 high and clear as a bugle call. " The gentleman you rep- 
 resent wishes to apologize ! Then let him come here 
 and stand beside me and passively, on his face, receive 
 from my friend the same brutal blow he placed upon his ; 
 and after he has beaten him, the man I speak for, shall 
 receive his amend and not before ! " 
 
 A dead silence falls upon the group as they listen to 
 this most atrocious demand it lasts but an instant then 
 the English bull-dog has clenched his fist as if he were 
 about to strike de Belloc. 
 
 But he is put aside, and the English gentleman, his 
 principal, stands in his place confronting the French- 
 man. As he has heard the monstrous indignity pro- 
 posed for him, a deep flush of rage and shame has rushed 
 over his face; but now every drop of blood has left 
 it, and he stands pale as one who dies of the cobra bite 
 which turns the blood to water; and looks as deadly as 
 that fatal snake, as he says very quietly, " It may be the 
 custom among Frenchmen to be beaten like curs; but we 
 English have not as yet acquired the habit. You, sir," 
 (turning to the Corsican) " wish my life you shall have 
 your chance at it but I shall also shoot to kill ! " 
 
 To this Paoli makes no direct reply, but says hoarsely 
 to de Belloc, " Give me the pistol ! " and his eyes still 
 answer to the 'Englishman, "^ la mort /" 
 
 Had not Bawies induced the latter to apologize he 
 would not have received the insulting proposition from 
 de Belloc, which changed him from a man only anxious 
 to defend his own life, into one thirsting for his oppo- 
 nent's. But Barnes* efforts have introduced a still more 
 dangerous factor to Manna's brother into the meeting; 
 for now the young Englishman comes to him and in an 
 undertone says, "I've kept one promise, you see with 
 what result; common sense must tell you I can't keep 
 
30 MR. BARNES OF NEW YORK. 
 
 the other that gentleman standing opposite me says it 
 is *d la mort!' I shall do my best to make it so. When 
 you taught me hdMr to miss my man, you also showed me 
 how to hit him. Aim two feet to the right and the bullet 
 will go plump through him; at twelve paces, I believe 
 you said. Many thanks, Mr. Barnes ! " and he walks 
 to his firing point. 
 
 Without the knowledge born of Barnes* experiments 
 with the pistols, Marina's brother would have been com- 
 paratively safe. 
 
 Half a second after, the young Englishman, who can- 
 not even in this desperate moment of his life forget his 
 British habit of fairness, speaks again, this time to Mon- 
 sieur de Belloc and aloud. 
 
 I'll take no undue advantage in this affair. Tell 
 your man, that Mr. Barnes a few minutes since sighted 
 these pistols; that they both shoot at our distance about 
 two feet to the left of where they aie pointed ;" and then 
 he mutters hoarsely to himself, "My mother!" for he 
 knows that his words have put great addition to the peril 
 that is on him ; and he has still a mother living in Eng- 
 land, and is thinking that, perchance, she will never see 
 him again in life. Yet with that name upon his lips he 
 is still ready to kill. 
 
 At the Englishman's generous words, his second mut- 
 ters to himself, "The chivalric fool he's given away 
 the trick of the weapons ! " 
 
 The French captain looks at Barnes for confirmation, 
 for it is hard to believe that any man could so put peril 
 on himself, for an idea. 
 
 But the American simply says, " It is gospel truth ! I 
 sighted those two pistols, and the one with the name on 
 the butt shoots almost two feet to the left of the point it is 
 held at; the other a little less about one foot nine 
 inches. You know my skill with the weapon. I pledge 
 my honor, de Belloc, that I am correct. And now that 
 I've made everything as fair and as dangerous for one 
 as for the other, I hope you'll kick me for a meddling 
 fool ! " Here Mr. Barnes thinks he hears a sound of 
 horses' hoofs in the far distance, and remembering Marina, 
 runs up the stairs cursing himself for the danger his ex- 
 periment has placed upon these two men's lives. 
 
 A moment after, the French officer taking a step to- 
 
MR. BARNES OF NEW YORK- 3! 
 
 wards the English lieutenant, bows and says, "Had I 
 known you before, I should not have made that proposi- 
 tion that gave you pain; but now gives me greater, for 
 you are not only a brave but a true man. I salute you, 
 sir ! " And he does so in the simple manner of a soldier 
 who desires to honor a comrade. Then turning to the 
 young Corsican, he remarks, " I advise you, Paoli, to re- 
 member Mr. Barnes* ad vice; he knows more about pistol 
 shooting than any man I ever saw," and with that 
 passes to his station to give the signal to fire. 
 
 From the balcony of the inn, through Barnes* field 
 glass, Marina can be seen coming, but her horse is tired 
 and lame. Two men are following her through the dust. 
 One is her foster-father old Tomasso, the other Count 
 Musso Danella. She rides as if she thought she was 
 riding for her brother's life, which can be to her, at best, 
 a guess, for Barnes* hurried note to Danella only men- 
 tioned that her presence here might save Antonio from 
 committing folly. 
 
 She is still half a mile away and will be nay, is too 
 late; for at that instant from below come the sharp re- 
 ports that say the men have fired. 
 
 The two pistols speak, almost together; the sound 
 from the Corsican's a trifle the first. As the smoke rolls 
 away Antonio is standing, though he seems to have placed 
 all the weight of his body upon his left leg. The Eng- 
 lishman staggers and would fall, but his second, running 
 to him supports him, and says, "Where is it, old fellow? 
 Are you much hurt?" 
 
 To which the other gasps " It's here in my side ; " 
 pressed his hand upon the spot, groans, then looks sur- 
 prised and then relieved, as he takes from his vest-pocket 
 his lucky silver crown with the pistol bullet flattened 
 against and imbedded in it. 
 
 " How do you feel now ? " says Barnes, who has hurried 
 to him to do what could be done without instruments; 
 for though not a practicing surgeon and dignified by a 
 diploma, everything that the American did he did thor- 
 oughly, and he was a better doctor than many who wrota 
 M. D. after their names. 
 
 " A good deal better now, thanks to my lucky penny ! " 
 replies the Englishman, looking at the coin and pocket* 
 ing it with affection. " I'll not forget it in a hurry ! " 
 
32 MR. BARNES OF NEW YORK. 
 
 Which was true, for its impression made his ribs sore fof 
 many a day after. 
 
 " Yes, I hardly think you'll die just at present," but 
 Barnes is interrupted by the voice of de Belloc, which 
 comes cool as ice, 
 
 " Under these circumstances my principal demands 
 another shot ! " 
 
 " Which at present I haven't t ne to give him ! " 
 
 "Why not? You are not disabled, and my principal 
 can stand ? " 
 
 Tli is is the first intimation that the Corsican is 
 wounded. 
 
 The English officer takes one look to seaward, then 
 speaks straight at de Belloc, his voice ringing out as if 
 on his quarter-deck. "That gun-boat is now moving 
 ahead to break ground with her and . moment 
 
 she will sail for Alexandria to go into action. When 
 that ship goes under the fire of the Egyptian guns we 
 be upon her quarter-deck !" The other has already 
 run down to their boat to cast it off from the shore. 
 I imeyet!" 
 
 " There, is too little now ! You are a French officer, 
 don't stand between an English one and his duty ! " 
 
 But the young Corsican now speaks with almost alarm- 
 ing faintness, "This pistol's broken and 1 can stand 
 no more!" With that he sinks down, sitting on a 
 neighboring rock. 
 
 The Englishman looks at him and exclaims, " Hit in 
 the leg ? Eh ? I'm glad it's no worse, and if I come back 
 from Egypt and you insist " 
 
 But he says no more, for now a stream of fire shoots 
 out of the smoke that hangs about the distant ship and 
 the sound of her farewell gun comes over the water. 
 
 The lieutenant springs to the boat crying with an 
 anxious voice, " Five guineas, men, when you're along- 
 side of that ship ! If we miss her, it's our ruin and dis- 
 grace f " 
 
 The Corsican fishermen bend to their oars, as he shakes 
 the British gold in their faces with one hand and steers 
 with the other, while his second throws off his coat and 
 takes an extra oar as the boat darts from the land to cut 
 off the steamer, whose propeller is already moving. 
 
MR. BARNES OF NEW YORK 5J 
 
 CHAPTER IV. 
 DEAD! 
 
 THE extreme faintrw-s of Paoli's voice had caught 
 Barnes' attention the moment that he spoke; it was in 
 such noticeable contrast to its power immediately before 
 the duel. He springs to him and feels his pulse; for, 
 with a physician's instinct, he knows but one thing could 
 produce so marked a change in so short a time. As he 
 does so, his color becomes as pale as that of the young 
 forsican's himself, who now reclines against the cliff at 
 his back, and whose head droops as if he had no longer 
 the strength to hold it upright. 
 
 In an instant, Barnes, with his knife, has cut away from 
 his patient's leg the blue naval trousers that have already 
 become a deep crimson purple about the wound, which 
 is nearly as high up as the young man's hip. Using his 
 finger as a probe he traces the bullet. As he feels its 
 path he mutters to himself a low curse; and, at the same 
 time, is conscious of thinking with what supreme will 
 this man must have hated; to have stood, for even 
 a short minute, waiting for the hope of a second shot, 
 when the first had done him such an injury. For a 
 moment he cannot understand how the bullet has taken 
 its peculiar course; but, as he sees the mutilated pistol 
 that lies by the man's side, he comprehends what has 
 produced the extraordinary wound he has discovered. 
 
 " Quick ! " he cries to old Mateo, " bring me the strong- 
 est spirits, brandy, rum, anything you have also some 
 water ! Move like lightning ! " Then he folds his coat 
 and makes a pillow for the young Corsican's head, lays 
 him gently on his back and whispers to him tenderly 
 " Do you have any pain ? Don't exert yourself to speak 
 aloud, my ears are good ! " Receiving the boy's answer, he 
 rises and comes to de Belloc who has been looking on 
 with some interest at Barnes' quick movements, and tak- 
 ing him aside says hurriedly but decidedly, " I am a surgeon 
 in all but a diploma which I did not care to take ! " for he 
 wishes the soldier to know that what he is about to tell 
 him is as absolute truth as if it came from some cele- 
 brated 
 
34 MR. BARNES OF NEW YORK. 
 
 " Then, you can tell me which way will be the best to 
 move him to the city, by boat or by carriage ? " 
 
 " By neither ! he must stay here ! " 
 
 " Stay here ? Till when ? "' 
 
 "Till all is over!" 
 
 The military man stares in unbelief at the civilian and 
 says, shortly, " Pish ! He's not going to die. I've seen 
 hundreds wounded in the same place get well ! " 
 
 " But not so wounded ! Don't look incredulous. 1 >n 
 I look as if / doubted ? " and there are tears in Barnes' 
 eyes, and in his voice too now for that matter. 
 
 And the grim soldier, who is better in the field than in 
 the hospital, gazes at him and knows that his companion 
 believes with all his heart what he says with his tongue. 
 
 " But his wound is in the leg ! " still dissents de Belloc 
 who won't believe if possible to doubt. 
 
 " The ball entered his leg ; but Antonio had fired a 
 little the first, and his pistol being lowered, the bullet 
 struck the barrel and glanced up into his body, coursing 
 along the external iliac artery and tearing it to pieces. 
 On my honor as a man, he'll bleed to death, perhaps in 
 five minutes." 
 
 "And you can do nothing?" 
 
 "Even with instruments I could not sare him the 
 artery is so destroyed ! Now will you tell him or shall 
 
 'You!" says dc Belloc, "for I might have received 
 the Englishman's apology and this would not have hap- 
 pened. I feel as if his death was upon me ! " He goes 
 sadly to the boy upon whose forehead death has already 
 placed his hand and made it white, and kisses him and 
 says " Farewell ! " then turns away and looks out on the 
 water, though he can hardly see for the moment his 
 eyes are dim with sorrow. 
 
 Kicking the pistol away with his foot, Barnes pi; 
 himself beside the now almost helpless sufferer ; takes 
 his head upon his lap, moistens his forehead with the 
 spirits Mateo has brought, and pours water down his 
 throat ; for the boy complains of thirst. Then bending 
 down to him he whispers that he is to die ! 
 
 And the dying murmurs back to him, " I have guessed 
 that I would not live, ever since his bullet struck me. 
 That was the reason I tried to stand up for another shot 
 
MR. BARNES OF NEW YORK. 35 
 
 I wished to kill him, that he might pass away with me, 
 and I might leave no vengeance to my sister and my kin 
 but it always comes to us in the third generation." 
 
 " What comes ? " whispers Barnes, half recollecting the 
 words of Marina. 
 
 "The Vendetta! I have left my sister one ! " and then 
 he sighs, and after a gasp or two continues " I had 
 sooner she forget me than that the memory of my death 
 destroyed her life." His words are very faint now. Th 
 American suddenly thinks if he can perhaps compress 
 and hold the artery with his hand so as to partially stop 
 the fearful flow of blood, he may keep life in him till his 
 sister comes. But as he stoops down to do so, there is a 
 noise of horses, and of people dismounting in haste, and 
 the sound of a voice in the distance, curiously like the 
 one murmuring in his ear, now that it is subdued and 
 sad. 
 
 Whether in our last moment upon earth some occult 
 power from the world we are to enter, comes to us and 
 gives us faculty to see and know things that in the flesh 
 would not be possible, cannot be known, for none return 
 to tell us ; but, as Barnes hears, the dying boy seems to 
 see through the cliffs of solid rock and the white walls 
 of the little inn and the orange grove that stands between 
 him and the one he loves, for he murmurs, " My sister ! 
 She is there I see her ! " and he talks to himself, 
 describing her dress, and kisses her flowers and smiles, 
 and then struggling to his feet gives one last and great 
 cry of welcome " MARINA ! " and falls backward on 
 the beach. 
 
 And from behind the inn comes her voice in happy re- 
 turn, " Antonio ! My brother ! I am here ! " But as she 
 speaks death comes and takes the boy, leaving the smile 
 of welcome on his face. 
 
 De Belloc with a hoarse voice, after a muttered prayer 
 or curse, says " My God. It is his sister ! " and takes 
 up the pistol to hide it from her. As he does so, she 
 comes on the balcony above, turns with a little laugh to 
 Danella and Tomasso who follow her, crying merrily, 
 " He is here! you heard his voice. 1 " while she looks 
 eagerly about for him. 
 
 From the place where Marina stands she cannot sec 
 the body on the beach below, for a projecting ledge of 
 
36 MR. BARNES OF NEW YORK. 
 
 rocks; and Barnes hardly knowing what he does-, 
 covers with his handkerchief the face of her dead brother. 
 Hut as he does so she sees the American's head and 
 recognizing, waves her hand gaily to him, then laughs and 
 calls to him, "He's down there, I suppose!" and run- 
 ning to the stairs, in thrt moment of joy, forgetful of the 
 fatigue of her long nig ,; and morning ride, she comes 
 down, to view the sight the passions of men have pre- 
 pared for her. 
 
 As she descend^ ...~e is no brighter or fairer picture 
 than this girl. Th .. gay colors of her dress for she now 
 wears the native costume of her country embellish and 
 develop the lithe grace and agile beauty of her 1 
 Her face is flushed with expectation, and though anxious, 
 there is in her eyes a flash of hope and love that makes 
 them scintillate with happiness. 
 
 She is utterly unconscious of what is before her, for 
 she laughs again, and says, " Your note frightened us ; 
 but I've heard his voice so he must be well whc: 
 he ? My brother ? " 
 
 Neither of the men attempts to answer her. The cap- 
 tain still looks at the sea, playing unconsciously with the 
 broken pistol he has taken in his hand. The Amei 
 forces himself to turn to her. As he looks, she sees for 
 the first time the silent form upon the shingle, and gazing 
 at it for a moment she begins to pant and gasp, for she 
 knows the uniform her brother wears. 
 
 Who is he ?- What is that? Can you not speal 
 Unable to bear the suspense she takes a step towards 
 the figure, and says, " Let me see ! " Then cries, " Holy 
 Virgin ! You are afraid ? " for Barnes* hand in pity is 
 put out to stop her. But struggling with him. she pulls 
 away the handkerchief, and sees her dead brother's face. 
 
 Barnes had hoped MV. she would faint, but at first she 
 does not seem to understand, and cries. lie called 
 to me Marina ! a cry of welcome . This cannot be ! " 
 Then stooping down she whispers his name; falls upon 
 his face and kisses it, and fondles it as brutes do their 
 dead young, thinking to pet them back to life. When 
 she sees he does not answer or return her caresses, her 
 hand goes straight to his heart and feels for the life that 
 is gone and then she gives a long gasping moan of 
 agony, for at Ikstshe believes and slowly says, "You 
 
Mk. BARNES OF NEW YORK. JJ 
 
 lave brought me here for this?" and shudders and 
 x>vers her face with her hands, and sways, and is about 
 to fall. But suddenly another thought comes to her; she 
 becomes a different being; her eyes begin to flash and 
 scintillate, she stands erect again and cries, " Show me 
 who has killed him ! " and seeing the Frenchman stand- 
 ing with the broken pistol in his hand <4 Ah ! it was 
 you ! " and comes towards him with a look in her eyes 
 that makes him shudder. 
 
 Andre de Belloc in his time has faced many a deadly 
 fire and seen many a desperate deed done both in cool- 
 ness and in anger, but he turns pale, as he sees the in- 
 sanity of rage that glitters in the girl's face; though he 
 simply answers, " No ! " and she believes him, and asks, 
 " Who has done this thing ? You dared not tell me of 
 my brother's death ! tell me who has killed him ! " 
 
 De Belloc, pointing to the water, says, " An officer on 
 that ship now leaving Corsica ! " 
 
 Barnes follows his hand and sees the English gun-boat 
 has taken up the men who pursued it, and is now well 
 under way down the harbor. 
 
 The girl's eyes rest upon the man-of-war that is now 
 fast putting its hull below the horizon, and linger upon 
 it as if she would draw the great ship back to her by the 
 very power of her will. Then she suddenly cries, " The 
 flag is English ! I shall find him ! I will repay ! I am 
 a Corsican ! " and begins to mutter wildly to herself. 
 
 Musso Danella and old Tomasso, who have stood be- 
 hind her while she is doing this, for the affair has lasted 
 but a minute, look gloomily at her ; perhaps a slight 
 smile of some cherished hope lighting Danella's face as 
 he gazes at her loveliness, for the girl is even more 
 beautiful in her passion than she was before. 
 
 Then she speaks aloud again, and now looks like the 
 priestess of some heathen shrine that savages have dedi- 
 cated to the god of Hate, " No one shall reproach me 
 with letting my brother's murderer live ! No one shall 
 say the Rimbecco to me ! I will avenge, for I have sworn 
 a Vendetta!" 
 
 At this the old Corsican, her foster-father, kneeling 
 reverently at her feet, says in his hate, " Respond^! " 
 
 And the girl looking down at the old man, sees her 
 brother's corpse and moans " It will not bring him back 
 
3* MR. BARNES OF NEW YORK, 
 
 to me ! " and cries " Antonio ! " with a scream that can 
 not be described ; then sinks senseless as her brother 
 
 upon whose clay she falls. 
 
 **** 
 
 A few weeks afterwards the English gun-boat Sealark 
 took part in the bombardment of Alexandria, and under 
 the Egyptian guns lost some officers and men. 
 
ML BARNES OF NEW YORK. 
 
 39 
 
 BOOK II. 
 AN EPISODE OF THE PARIS SALOH 
 
 CHAPTER V. 
 
 A CURIOUS PICTURE. 
 
 THE Paris Salon of the year succeeding the one made 
 memorable by the occupation of Egypt by the British 
 forces, was a fair average of those brilliant displays of 
 art that annually attract so many who pretend to or do 
 really admire the modern French school of painting 
 and sculpture. Nearly everybody that was in Paris at 
 the time, visited it ; and as Paris was very full of people 
 one morning early in the May of that year, consequently 
 the exhibition had more than the usual heterogeneous 
 mass of cosmopolites who come from the four quarters of 
 the globe to worship at the shrine of pleasure in that gay 
 capital of the modern world. 
 
 In one of the larger rooms of the Salon, a mass of 
 people are striving to see one of the pictures of the season. 
 French, English, Italians, Americans, Austrians, Germans, 
 nearly every nationality of the world are grouped to- 
 gether in the crowd, while from its depths pours out a 
 confused variety of tongues, accents, dialects and lan- 
 guages that, massed together, make a lunacy of kica 
 and babel of sound. 
 
 " Disappointing ! " 
 
 " Splendida I " 
 
 u It will get a medal ! " 
 
 " Ich halte nicht viel davt* I ' 
 
 "MonDieu! Qucllc foul* t* 
 
 " I prefer G^rome ! " 
 
40 MR. BARNES OF NEW YOPK. 
 
 " This f orrid jam is worse than Piccadilly ! * 
 
 " It reminds me of ' la Cigale ! ' ' 
 
 " Je-rue-sa-/^ / It looks like Sally S potts, in swim 
 ming ! " 
 
 This last comes from a cattle king from Kansas, whc 
 makes the remark on the edge of the crowd, but now ex- 
 citedly forces his way towards the picture ; and as he ha* 
 the form of a Goliah and strength of a Sampson, Mr. 
 Barnes, who has been most of the past year in the United 
 States, but has run over to Europe to avoid the Ameri- 
 can summer, concludes he is a good man to do the 
 pushing and squeezing for him, and quietly drops into 
 his wake. 
 
 " Cracky ! It is Sally Spotts ! " repeats the Westerner. 
 
 And he is right ; the be'le of an Ohio village has 
 wandered to Paris and is now as celebrated for her 
 beauty, though not, alas, for her virtue, in this capital 
 of nations, as she once was as Sally Spotts in her rural 
 American home. Her old father and mother mourn her 
 as dead, and are happier than if they knew that the little 
 innocent child that knelt and prayed with them each 
 night, before sleeping, lived as " La Belle Blackwood," 
 that celebrity of the dtmi-mondc> whose eccentricities 
 they have read of and shuddered at, and whose beauty 
 makes so much of the attraction of this famous picture, 
 for which she has consented to be the model. 
 
 Stimulated by this discovery, the Western giant makes 
 a determined attempt for a nearer view, and crushes into 
 the crowd reckless of the effects of his monstrous ex- 
 tremities that are clothed ; n boots wrinkled into tremen- 
 dous valleys and mountain of polished patent leather. 
 
 As he does so, a miserable " Sacrc!" of anguish comes 
 from a little Frenchman whom he crushes ; a groan or 
 two from an Italian Art critic ; and a " Be careful, car'nt 
 you, now ! oh Lord ! my boots ! " from an American 
 dude, who, even in his agony does not forget his beloved 
 English accent and pointed varnished gaiters. 
 
 The misfortunes of others are generally amusing to a 
 looker on, and Mr. Barnes rather laughs at the reckless- 
 ness of his giant advance guard ; but now the smile 
 leaves his face and he glares in indignant rage at the 
 creature whose bulk has so far made his path, even in 
 that crush s an easy one ; for he has just heard little 
 
MR. BARNES OP NEW YORR. 4X 
 
 subdued feminine shrieks, and a pathetic murmur in the 
 softest English voice, " Oh ! Mrs. Vavassour ! He has 
 trod on them again ! " 
 
 ** What ! twice ? " this from a rather buxom English 
 matron beside the complaining beauty. 
 
 Yes ! no ! O oh ! That's the third time now I 
 I sha'n't be able to walk ! Andoh mercy ! the brute'a 
 torn my new dress ! " this last in the voice of abject de 
 spair. 
 
 Looking a little ahead he sees what is to him, the 
 picture of the season. An English girl, whose lovely 
 eyes beam with righteous anger, through their tears of 
 pain, at the ruthless American vandal ; as she whispers 
 to her companion, " I could have forgiven him the 
 assault on my feet, but on my dress never ! " and 
 with that pouts a little laugh that makes Barnes think a 
 moue in some women is the most beautiful thing in na- 
 ture. 
 
 The girl draws a little out of the press ; and, stooping 
 down to inspect the damage done to her toilet, assumes 
 so graceful an attitude as she draws her skirt about her, 
 outlining her exquisite figure, that her admirer for- 
 gets his indignation for the vandal, in his interest for the 
 Niobe, whose tears have now passed into a smile. The 
 position the girl takes bending down slightly so as to 
 examine more closely the damage wrought to her cos- 
 tume as she raises her skirts a little for examination, 
 displaying a perfect foot admirably booted permits Mr. 
 Barnes to take a long and strong glance at her, without 
 her seeing the interest with which she is regarded. The 
 lady with her is also studying the dress, which gives him 
 an opportunity for inspection without appearing imperti- 
 nent, of which he takes full advantage ; consequently 
 when the young lady raises her eyes again to the general 
 world, she has been as well looked over and criticised 
 as any picture in the room ; and, if Barnes were the 
 committee, would receive the gold medal of the year 
 She is about twenty this he guesses and is one of 
 those most lovely things in the world a thoroughly 
 pretty, refined and gentle English girl, there is no 
 guess about the last. 
 
 Her head is beautified by a great mass of golden hair, 
 that is natural in both color and substance ; underneath 
 
4-- MR. BARNES OP NEW YORK. 
 
 this is a grand pair of honest blue eyes that are generally 
 quite soft to those she loves ; but, when she chooses, can 
 flash on those she hates, or shine very coldly on those 
 she despises. Her whole face, though by no means 
 frivolous, has enough piquant levity about it to show 
 that her life so far has been thoroughly happy, and there- 
 fore thoroughly good. 
 
 Her face has no traces of past passion but immense 
 possibilities for future love. At present she is a beauti- 
 ful girl not simple enough to think their isn't plenty of 
 sin and evil in the world, but too pure not to despise 
 what portion of it is thrust before her. 
 
 While inspecting her, Barnes finds himself wondering 
 if the girl has a pretty name the next instant he hears it. 
 
 " Enid," says the older lady, " Is the disaster to your 
 dress bad enough to make you return to the hotel ?" 
 
 " No-o," (reflectively) " only a gather gone ; and in 
 the hundred this gown has, one won't be missed ! Besides, 
 I want to show you that curious picture ; and to-day is 
 my last chance ! " 
 
 :iat isn't the one, I hope ?" says her companion. 
 
 " No ! I detest such paintings, and the publicity they 
 give a certain class of women like 'La Belle Black- 
 wood ! ' ' 
 
 " Oh, Enid ! you shouldn't talk of such people," says 
 the matron. 
 
 "Why not? they exist, don't they? I'm not blind I 
 have ears. I can't ignore that picture, and s,. 
 there against that wall; but though I may not admire 
 the art that stoops to dignify such women and make 
 heroines of them, I can't say I despise the woman in 
 the picture so much as I do that man there who is 
 talking about her ! " She indicates, by her glance, the 
 Cattle King, who is eagerly asking the address of 
 Belle Blackwood," and telling the man nearest to him 
 " That he'll look her up; he's an old friend of her family's, 
 he is and he'll spend the price of a thousand steers to 
 give her a high time he's in Paris for pleasure, he is ; 
 this is his week off; Mrs. Ruggles is in London 1 " 
 
 Barnes knows that queen of the demi-monde, and as 
 he hears the English girl's remark he feels ashamed of 
 himself. But he feels much more ashamed, a moment 
 after, when the cattle magnate, who has found hi/ 
 
MR BARNES OF NEW YORIL 43 
 
 French rather unintelligible to those near him, turnt 
 round and recognizing him, cries out in English, "Hello, 
 Barnes, of New York ! You know every one that's wick- 
 ed in Paris. Tell me the address of ' La Belle Black- 
 wood!'" 
 
 For a moment Barnes has a surging in his ears, as the 
 blood rushes to his face, and he thinks he catches from 
 the English matron the words, " Depraved wretch ! " 
 not made much more palatable to him by the girl's, 
 " Who would have believed it from his face ! " 
 
 But summoning up desperate assurance, he replies 
 nonchalantly, " Every one knows that who lives in Paris; 
 it's 42 Rue du Helder. You'd know it too, if you could 
 read French, Ruggles. I saw it in this morning's Figaro! " 
 
 "Ah! much obliged," says Ruggles. "You young bloods 
 are always a leetle ahead of us old boys ! " He gives 
 him a leer (for which Barnes could have killed him), and 
 jots down tne address. 
 
 If mental curses could destroy, the Cattle King would 
 have a stroke of paralysis on the spot, for the would-be- 
 innocent Barnes sends him to the lower regions, under 
 his breath, with a vigor and earnestness that would settle 
 a much tougher subject, as he reflects on the probable 
 pleasing effect this little passage may produce on the 
 young lady's opinion and reception of him, when she 
 first meets and knows him, as he has now firmly made 
 up his mind she shall do. " Egad, I'm glad I've given the 
 beggar the right address; " he thinks to himself savagely. 
 " If ' La Belle Blackwood * gets her clutches on the old 
 fool she will avenge me ! " 
 
 He does not dare to turn round and look at the girl, 
 but has an idea that she is trying to see if he has a very 
 wicked and depraved face behind the back of his blushing 
 neck. This idea becomes a certainty as he hears the 
 British matron say to her, " Enid, don't look at that 
 modern Faust any longer ! " 
 
 A moment after she is addressed as Miss Anstruther, 
 by a gentleman who stops to speak to the two ladies. 
 
 I knew she had a pretty name, thinks Barnes, for he 
 has been putting two and two together; and two and 
 two in this case produce Enid Anstruther. 
 
 He moreover catches her saying to the gentlemar 
 something about meeting " Dear Edwin "in Nice. "Dear 
 
44 MR. BARNES OP NEW YORK. 
 
 Edwin '* makes him meditate. It must be the chap she't 
 engaged to, is the unpleasant thought that comes to 
 him. She's too nice a girl not to have half England 
 running after her. In any other case he would not have 
 made this mistake; and would know that the last man a 
 girl of her type would call publicly, dear, would be the 
 man she loved; that " Dear Edwin" might be a friend, 
 cousin, brother; but lover never ! But philosophy has 
 left Barnes; for the first time in his life he has become 
 temporarily insane for he is now in love. 
 
 Common courtesy forbids him to linger longer so close 
 to Miss Anstruther, for her bright eyes are beginning to 
 notice his glances; so he moves a little away, making 
 sure that he is in the path the ladies are taking but in 
 advance of them; so that, apparently they are following 
 him; not he, them. 
 
 To do this effectively, he has to perform a good amount 
 of scientific skipping and hopping about, for the ladies 
 seem to have but little time to spend in the place, and 
 fly from one picture to another, as birds do from cherry 
 to cherry. 
 
 Barnes fears this wilt attract the young lady's atten- 
 tion, and is delighted when she points to a smaller a; 
 ment saying, * There's the room of the curious picture, 
 When I have explained why it is curious to me, I'll 
 take you to it." 
 
 Knowing that he will meet the girl there in a few 
 minutes again, by apparent accident, the American 
 promptly enters the room of the curious painting, sud- 
 denly gives an exclamation of astonishment, and stands 
 petrified for almost in front of him is a picture of 
 the duel on the beach at Ajaccio, as vividly true and 
 cruelly life like as on that fatal morning a year before 
 
 CHAPTER VI 
 
 PURSUED. 
 
 The incidents peculiar to that event in Corsica had 
 by no means left the mind of the American ; but in the 
 life of the world of to-d^y with its railroad rapiditv of 
 
MIL BARNES OF NEW YORK. 49 
 
 change In incident, and extraordinary variety in idea 
 and action, a man of the present generation has little 
 time to think of the past; he can only put it away in 
 some closet of the brain, to be produced for future refer- 
 ence when called for. 
 
 Barnes, face t*> face w*tli J>j picture, produces his 
 memories of Corvee ma proceed' t< r>r>!y ,.:em to the 
 subject before him. 
 
 His first impression * one of fvrpriiu *hat the view in 
 front of him is so wonderfully correct in some details, 
 and so false in others. The picture is a complete repre- 
 sentation of the scene. The shelving shore, the blue 
 waters of the bay, the boat with its native fishermen 
 waiting for the English officers, the little inn with its 
 balcony and table set with the remains of Barnes* break- 
 fast, the decayed wooden stairs ard the Corsican moun- 
 tains in the background, are so absolutely real that he 
 almost feels himself standing upon the beach again. But 
 the figures and groupings are not all so correct 
 
 The canvas presents two portions of the action of the 
 duel that occurred at two different times. Either with 
 the object of giving greater effect to the picture as a 
 work of art, or for some other unknown reason, these 
 two episodes are placed together as if they had taken 
 place at the same moment 
 
 At the left of the scene, is young Paoli in his French 
 naval uniform, dying in Barnes* arms; who is supporting 
 his head in the same manner as Marina first saw him - 
 his hand is upraised, however, pointing to the English 
 lieutenant with a gesture of disapprobation. At the 
 center, stands de Belloc, sternly looking at the British 
 officer with a glance of surprised horror, while upon the 
 stairway is old Mateo gazing at him with a scowl of re- 
 pulsion. This object of general condemnation, standing 
 rather to the right of the picture, is holding in one hand 
 his ship's pistol apparently just discharged, as it is stili 
 smoking; while in the other, upraised, he grasps the 
 '.ucky crown piece with Paoli's bullet flattened against it, 
 and looks at it with triumphant exultation and joy. This 
 effect is also duplicated in the figure of the Englishman's 
 lecond, who seems equally elated at his companion's 
 success. 
 
 The figure* of Paoli, de Belloc. old Mateo, and even tfc* 
 
46 fiML BARNES OF NEW YORK 
 
 two Corsican fishermen who row the waiting boat, are aft 
 absolutely correct in every detail. In fact, that of An- 
 tonio is painted with a care and delicacy, and his face 
 given an ideal beauty of expression that makes him look 
 more like a martyred saint, than a man dying with the 
 desire of another's blood upon his soul; proving that 
 whoever painted the picture, could only regard him at 
 absolutely unsinning in the affair that caused his death. 
 In marked contrast to this, Mr. Barnes' face is by no 
 means a good likeness, and could only have been painted 
 from a passing memory; while the figures of the two 
 English sailors, that are entirely ideal, must have been 
 produced by one who had never seen them, and at best 
 had had but a description of their persons and appearance. 
 The artist, furthermore, had evidently been disposed to do 
 them little justice, as the countenance of the principal in 
 the affair, though lighted up by triumph, is darkened 
 and shaded by malice, murder and cowardice in vivid, 
 yet most repulsive combination. 
 
 Over this scene is thrown the rising, tropic sun, giving 
 the brilliant lights and shadows of a southern picture. 
 and developing the passions on the faces of the men till 
 the thing seems no work of the imagination, but a hor- 
 rible and cruel reality. 
 
 As an artistic production the picture is not great ; for 
 it is evidently the work of an artist who is not thoroughly 
 cultured in his style, nor technic ; but as a concentration 
 of human passions, real and awful in their intensity, it 
 makes its mark. It has been hung pretty near the line 
 and has quite often a little crowd of morbid gazers about 
 it Its effects are heightened by artificial means, as it is 
 deeply framed in dead black, lustreless ebony; and has in 
 red letters upon its sombre frame, its title, " Murdered t" 
 
 If the committee are idealists, it will receive no prize, 
 thinks Mr. Barnes; but if a majority of them are realists 
 in art, it will certainly gain an honorable mention, per- 
 haps more. Anyway, Marina might have made me bet- 
 ter looking, thinks the young man, for he has almost 
 immediately determined from whose brush the picture 
 must have come. Everything the young Corsican girl 
 knew accurately of the affair had been accurately paint- 
 ed. The portrait of Barnes, of whom she had but 4 
 memory was defective: while the faces of th two 
 
MR. BARNES OP NEW YORK *? 
 
 flsh officers she had never seen, were entirely creations 
 of her imagination. Thinking this, he looks at the cor- 
 ner of the picture to see the artist's name; but only finds 
 the inscription " Finem Respicc!" which Mr. Barnes, 
 whose knowledge of Latin is already rusty, copies into 
 his pocket-book, and a few days after discovers means, 
 14 Look to the End ! " 
 
 At Barnes* first exclamation and start of surprise at 
 the picture, an old man some little distance in the back- 
 ground, but still near enough to notice any one standing 
 before it, has gradually approached ; and while he 
 has been examining the painting has carefully been 
 scrutinizing him. Now as he turns about to see if the 
 English girl has not yet entered the room, this man 
 who has the appearance of a picture dealer, and many of 
 the general attributes of the speculator who loves art 
 for the shekels that it brings, drops alongside of him 
 and says impressively in English, with a slight foreign ac- 
 cent" Horrible ! " 
 
 " Horrible, indeed ! " returns Barnes with almost a 
 shudder, for the picture is so vivid that he feels the dy- 
 ing boy again in his arms. 
 
 His emotion seems to excite the curiosity of the man 
 beside him as he suggests, " Monsieur is interested in the 
 picture ? " 
 
 "Very much ! " 
 
 " Indeed ? " (a slight inquiry on the word). u It is not a 
 great work; the artist is young, I believe! 
 
 " You know her then ! " 
 
 " Her ? " the man looks confused, but after a moment 
 suddenly says, "Yes! I've seen her once; you see I 
 thought if I could get the thing cheap I'd buy it. It's so 
 beastly horrible. Some people are morbid in their tastes 
 and will pay more for a first-class murder than for a 
 masterpiece from the brush of Gerome or Detaille, I 
 am an art dealer ! " 
 
 " So I guessed ! " replies Barnes. " I suppose if 
 Meissonier would deify some brutal modern assassina- 
 tion by his genius, you'd give a good deal for it ! " 
 
 " A fortune ! if he'd but embody a crime I once 
 investigated M Here the man checks himself sud- 
 denly and says, " You wish to purchase this, Monsieur ? *" 
 
 * No f I wouldn't have k for a gift f It brings back 
 
& MR BARNES OP NEW YORK, 
 
 anpfeasant memories too vividly ; I almost see it 
 
 ind the American again thinks of the fatal morning anc 
 
 necomes grave. 
 
 The man at this is evidently about to ask him some 
 Question, but Enid Anstruther and Mrs. Vavassour enter 
 vhe room, and Barnes has now no thought of anything 
 )ut her. He moves away from th picture aiul nsconc^s 
 iamself in an obscure corner whe 2 he can scj the gir! 
 %/ithout coming himself prominently into vie.<. From 
 iMs time forward, however, the gaze of the man who has 
 ipoken to him follows him greedily, as if there was a 
 l<ood deal of money in not losing sight of the foreigner 
 who is interested in the picture. A moment later, seeing 
 that Barnes has no thought of leaving, he steps out of 
 \he room and returns with two others, who, after a short 
 consultation, put their eyes upon and keep them on the 
 foreigner who has been startled by the picture ; seem- 
 ingly to fix him in their minds, and after a moment 
 saunter leisurely out unnoticed by Barnes, who has just 
 been reduced to practical lunacy by the peculiar actions 
 of his English enchantress. 
 
 Miss Anstruther, after one quick glance about the 
 room with her shining blue eyes, apparently in search 
 of somebody she does not see, leads Mrs. Vava- 
 straight to the canvas from which Barnes has turned 
 away ; and, standing before it laughs to her companion 
 and says, "That's the one I told you about ! That's he * 
 That's the man I've fallen in love with ! That's the crea- 
 ture I adore with all my heart !" pointing eagerly to the 
 picture. 
 
 " Which one ? Miss Impressionable I " laughs Mra 
 Vavassour, feeling for her glasses. 
 
 " That one ! The ugly one ! " and the girl directs her 
 finger straight at the figure and face intended for 
 Barnes. 
 
 At these astounding words a spasm of ecstasy flies 
 
 ugh that young gentleman's soul. After recovering 
 
 his senses a little, he meditates savagely : if Marina had 
 
 only painted him better looking, the girl would recognize 
 
 him, and then rapture ! 
 
 This flattering view of the situation is materially 
 tempered, however, as he hears Mrs. Vavassour reni 
 inspecting the picture closely with her eye-glass. 
 
1HL BARNES Or NEW YORK. tf 
 
 he somewhat resembles that horrid modern young Faust 
 we saw in the other room ! " 
 
 " Not at all! My darling" the girl lingers on the word 
 and gazes coquetishly at the Barnes on canvas " is much 
 handsomer. Say you think so, Mrs. Vavassour, or I 
 sha'n't li'ie you ! " 
 
 "Inched he is not!" 
 
 "Oh, yes, r . is! He has such an exquisite mustache^ 
 and Faust had none ! ** 
 
 Barnes here curses the ^barber who shaved him and 
 robbed him of the >;rnament. 
 
 After a little pause Mrs. Vavassour, who is a practical 
 woman, says, " What nonsense ! You have plenty of flesh 
 and blood adorers, Enid ! " 
 
 The reply makes Barnes start. 
 
 " Oh! he's flesh and blood too; this is not an ideal, /'/ 'j 
 * portrait I" 
 
 "Why do you think that ?" 
 
 u You know I told you what at first made me so Inter- 
 ested in the picture that letter from Egypt. It rather 
 reminded me of the affair, especially that lucky penny 
 episode on the canvas; so I came to see the picture 
 several times and got to studying the morbid horror of 
 the thing, and then became interested in the faces 
 especially in Ms but I wasn't very desperate about him 
 till I became jealous." 
 
 44 What ? " gasps Mrs. Vavassour. 
 
 14 1 feared I had a rival!" this last with simulated 
 melodramatic intensity. 
 
 44 A rival?" almost screams the now astounded British 
 matron. 4< Great Heavens ! Did you think that canvas 
 thing could be false to you?" 
 
 "No! But I feared another loved him also; a Spanish, 
 Italian foreign girl used to linger at a little distance, 
 gazing lovingly at this part of the picture," and she 
 points to Barnes supporting the dying boy. "A French- 
 man generally was with her; and one day I presume 
 she had noticed my interest in the picture she came to 
 me and asked me point blank, why I looked at that can 
 vas so much ? As I did not care to tell her the Egyptian 
 story, I said I was fyris with the face of the man who 
 pitied ! And then she said to me with a little sad smile, 
 he pitied but be careful, don't love htm ten? 
 
50 MR. BARNES OF NEW YORK. 
 
 nuch; ne lives!' To which I replied, 'You had bettei 
 take care of your own heart you look at him quite 
 tenderly yourself * * 
 
 " And she?" suggests Mrs. Vavassour 
 
 "She said, 'It is the dying man I look at he was my 
 brother!' Then she went away, and I found out, by 
 questioning the attendants, that she had painted the 
 picture of her brother's rau:der a nice, morose, morbid 
 taste, wasn't it ? " 
 
 " Not a bit more morbid than giving your heart to a 
 man on canvas," suggests Mrs. Vavassour. 
 
 " Do you think so ? I find it very convenient I can 
 have a rendezvous with him whenever I please ; and he 
 never makes love to me in return, nor says things that 
 make me hate him, nor squeezes my hand till my fingera 
 suffer, nor does something that causes me to get on my 
 dignity and keep him at a distance; but as this is our 
 last interview, I've brought you with me, Mrs. Vavassour, 
 that our parting may not be too tender !" laughs the girl. 
 
 " Enid ! you're not insane enough to ever expect to 
 meet this man !" 
 
 " No such luck, I'm afraid/' says the girl in playful 
 sadness. 
 
 * And if you did?" 
 
 " And he looks like that I should adore him ! The 
 rest " and she points to the picture "have triumph, 
 hate, or rage in their faces but pity, none ! My dar- 
 ling," here the girl almost laughs at her conceit, "has 
 pity. I know he could fight as well as the brave 
 them; and love much better!" and she gives the Mr. 
 Barnes on the canvas a look of such bewitching tender- 
 ness, that she makes the Barnes of flesh and blood almost 
 crazy with rapture. 
 
 Mr. Barnes has not overheaid the whole of this con- 
 versation, but he has caught enough to make him slightly 
 imbecile, and he now has wild dreams of introducing 
 himself as the earthly representative of the being she 
 loves. However, a little remaining sanity prevents this 
 impertinence. 
 
 "But if you met him, would you marry him?" asks 
 Mrs. Vavassour, who now with true matronly spirit has 
 become interested in making a match for the girl, even 
 with a man on canvas. 
 
MR. tSARNES OK NEW YORK. 51 
 
 "Who can tell? We seldom marry first loves what 
 nonsense! Of course we'll never see each other; and, if 
 we did, I should probably hate him!"- -Then turning to 
 the picture, Miss Anstruther says: "Good-by, my dar- 
 ling; if I were rich, I'd buy you; and we'd never part; 
 but poverty so often separates lovers in this world." 
 
 Barnes, who drinks in with extended ears the last 
 part of this speech, rushes off to find the picture dealer. 
 He will purchase it and astound his darling, his Enid, 
 by presenting it on the wedding morning, is his last er- 
 ratic inspiration. 
 
 He has got to calling her " his Enid ! " in his mind 
 already, has this rapid young man for though, during 
 the extraordinary conversation he has just listened to, 
 he has probably not had one moment of real, absolute 
 sanity, he has still clung, with all a maniac's fervor, to 
 one grand central idea, and that is, that the girl who loves 
 the Barnes of canvas, shall love the Barnes of clay, and 
 marry him with very short delay, for either consideration 
 or trousseau. 
 
 In fact he has, even now, wild dreams of Como and 
 the honeymoon, with her by his side, robed in delicious 
 morning gowns, and other entrancing toilets that drive 
 young husbands into rapture. \Vonders whether she'll 
 give him one night a week off for, his club, and if she'll 
 make a very big battle against cigarettes, cigars and his 
 other pet mannish frivolities and dissipations. And 
 many other wild masculine ideas flit through his brain, 
 some of which would make her laugh, and some of which 
 would probably make her blush, if the girl could have 
 known them. * 
 
 Mr. Barnes finds the picture dealer without much 
 trouble for that worthy has never lost sight of him for 
 a moment, and comes eagerly half way to meet him "I 
 haven't a minute to talk to you," says the American, 
 "I've changed my mind and want that picture. Find 
 out what price she asks for it, and communicate with mo 
 at Hotel Meurice." 
 
 "What name ?" inquires the picture dealer but by 
 this time Barnes is half way across the room from him, 
 in pursuit of Miss Anstruther, who has just left the 
 apartment. 
 
 He shouts back " Hotel Meurice ! I'll leave word for 
 
5 2 MR. BARNES OF NEW YORK. 
 
 you at the office ! " hurries on, and pushing his way in the 
 crowd, overtakes the ladies just as they reach the vesti- 
 bule. Here he catches these words passing between them. 
 " Enid, you must have some lunch before you go ! " 
 " I can't ! I must catch the express train Lady 
 Chartris goes upon it, and my maid will JP vith her/' 
 With this the you::g girl steps into a hack and drives 
 away. As she does so, Be rnes gets into another, whis- 
 pering to the driver, " Twenty francs if you don't lose 
 sight of that carriage ahead of you ! And drive like 
 blazes ! " As the American whirls away, the picture dealer 
 accompanied by the two n^en with whom he has been in 
 consultation, comes out of the door ; he says to them, 
 " Remember don't let him escape you follow him and 
 telegraph ! " 
 
 The men jump hastily into a hack that has been wait- 
 ing for them, and the three cabs take the direction of the 
 Boulevard Manzas and Lyons Railway station, the 
 young English girl in the first, unconscious of pursuit ; 
 Mr. Barnes in the second, equally innocent that any one 
 is on his track ; and two very ordinary looking French- 
 men in the third ; one of them chuckling to the other, " I 
 wonder what frightened our bird ? That was a bright 
 card he played, telling Casper to find him at the Hotel 
 Meurice, when he's now driving like mad to the Lyons 
 Railway station I " 
 
 CHAPTER VIL 
 
 THE LYONS EXPRESS. 
 
 As Miss ANSTRUTHER drives up to the Lyons depot 
 she sees that the train is almost ready to move, and 
 ing her ticket in her pocket, and no time to find her 
 party, she steps into a first-class carriage, the door of 
 which a guard obligingly holds open for her. Mr. Barnes, 
 however, doesn't know exactly for what place he wants 
 his ticket; but remembering hearing the young lady say 
 she hoped to meet " Dear Edwin " in Nice, promptly 
 guesses in answer to the ticket seller's question " Nice ! " 
 At this the two men following after hhn at the ticket offic* 
 
MR. BARNES OF NEW YORK. 55 
 
 say Nice also, and they all hurry to the train. Having not 
 a moment to lose, Barnes jumps into the only carriage 
 now open, and finds himself sitting in the very place he 
 most desired that is, opposite the girl he pursues. The 
 two men get into the coupe* compartment behind. 
 
 The American's back is towards the engine, conse 
 quently, looking through the vindowsof the carriage, he 
 has a view of the i^ar of the train; and just as they be- 
 gin to move he I) is a rather ludicrous /lying glimpse of 
 a conventional English matron dressed in the height of 
 fashion, struggling with three sturdy English children and 
 two French railway officials in a vain endeavor to board 
 the out-going train. She is supported in this by two 
 serving-maids and a conventional English flunkey, all 
 laden down with the hand-baggage without which a con- 
 ventional English family n^ver travels. 
 
 The next second the r 4> n:^ fe iing party are left well be- 
 hind by the train that *s now under full headway for 
 Loyns ! Mr. Barnes who is a perfect " Baedeker" having 
 traveled over Europe many times, knows it is an express 
 and will only make four stops of any length between 
 Paris and the silk weaving city: at Montereau, Ton- 
 nerre, Dijon and Macon ; any other pauses will be but 
 for a second or so. Therefore he has little chance of los- 
 ing his pleasant companion for nearly two hours; per- 
 haps not then, if he arranges the matter properly. 
 
 He settles himself in his seat and begins to contem- 
 plate the tasks he has set himself to do; which are, first, to 
 make the young lady's acquaintance who sits before him; 
 second, to gain her love. He is sure he knows none of 
 her circle to formally introduce him; and wisely judges 
 that she will by no means permit him to introduce him- 
 self; as on his entering the carriage she has drawn her- 
 self up, given him a glance of the coldest unmeaning, and 
 now doesn't let her eyes wander from a newspaper she 
 has drawn out of a hand-satchel, the only baggage she 
 has with her. Until he conquers the first problem, it is 
 manifestly absurd to contemplate the second ; so he 
 immediately directs his mind to discover some means of 
 creating an acquaintance, without either wounding her 
 sensitive pride or outraging any of the proprieties of 
 usage or decorum of the class in life to which Miss 
 Anstruther evidently belongs. 
 
54 MR. BARNES OP NEW YORK. 
 
 While doing so, he cannot keep from contemplating 
 ihe wonderful physical beauty of the girl before him, 
 which, until now, he has not thoroughly realized. 
 
 The girl is but little over the medium height, but, so 
 erect, she looks much taller. Her figure is a perfect 
 combination of the round contours of the woman and 
 the lithe and subtile graces of the girl; her limbs having 
 that agile ease of movement, that makes their motion 
 :ionious; their rest, unconscious beauty. All this ia 
 easily apparent, for she has been clothed by an artist 
 who has felt that art could do nothing for such a figure, 
 but simply display it ; and her dress, without any undue 
 .' rimming or furbelow, is a perfect fit. Its color is blue, 
 of medium shade, relieved by a little white at neck and 
 wrists, and a handful of pink rosebuds carelessly pinned 
 on her bosom. The general effect of this toilet is sim- 
 plicity, perfect in detail, from her boots and gloves to 
 her jewelry, which is limited in amount but exquisite in 
 design, from the massive gold bracelet that encloses her 
 supple wrist to the little watch she occasionally consults. 
 
 Under a hat, not large enough to conceal the form of 
 her head, is a heavy mass of lustrous golden hair, with 
 now and then a dash of brown auburn showing in it, 
 which shades something a poet would have call- 
 poem, a painter would have styled a picture; but Barnes 
 knows it is the fairest thing in nature, for it is the face of 
 the girl he loves. And as that thought comes thoroughly 
 home to him, he thanks God, as he has never thankee 1 
 Him before, that he is rich, and has leisure, and can pur- 
 sue her to the ends of the earth, if necessary, to make 
 her his own. 
 
 As a poor man, he would have been tied to some 
 drudgery of life for daily bread, and so have lost her ; 
 but now he has his chance, nothing can rob him of that; 
 and he laughs to himself as he thinks that fanatics have 
 told us that " contentment is better than wealth;" for- 
 getting that it takes a philosopher to be content with 
 poverty ; though a man can sometimes be satisfied with 
 riches. 
 
 As to the character of the young lady before him, 
 Barnes has a vague idea that it is perfect ; but he is by 
 this time so partial to her that a blemish would be twisted 
 by his amorous mind into a beauty ; and he does not 
 
MR. BARNES OF NEW YORK. JJ 
 
 Dotice that there is a general impulsiveness of manner 
 about her, that would make a careful observer guess that 
 Miss Anstruther might carry a generous impulse too far; 
 and has a spirit that is apt to fly to arms before even the 
 bugle sounds the alarm, to do battle for ideas upon which 
 she forms opinions without very deep consideration, but 
 with intense and determined conviction. 
 
 At present, Mr. Barnes notices that his angel has t 
 discontented expression on her face and is tapping the 
 floor of the car very impatiently with her seraphic foot. 
 With a lover's faint-heartedness he imagines she is angry 
 at his intrusion upon her privacy. 
 
 This is partly true ; the presence of any man would 
 annoy any girl at such a moment, for Miss Anstruther's 
 foot is asleep and she would like to be alone, so that she 
 might kick it about, stamp on it, dance upon it and 
 drive the needles and pins out of it, unembarrassed by 
 masculine observation. 
 
 After a little, gentler measures apparently succeed ; 
 a peaceful lassitude comes over her face and she peruses 
 the paper in quiet once more. 
 
 Silence ! If he only dared to break it by addressing 
 her but a too vital result hangs upon her reception of 
 his advances. To any other girl Barnes would have spoken 
 with the nonchalant assurance of the man of the world ; 
 making an advance that could by no means offend ; and, 
 if not pleasantly received, could be retreated from with 
 easy grace. 
 
 But with her it seems so different ; a slight offence 
 might destroy his chances of success; and he slyly 
 studies the girl to see if there is no weak spot in the de- 
 fensive armor of hauteur she has put about her. While 
 he watches, she reads the newspaper, and the train, 
 hardly stopping, slips past Melun and one or two 
 kittle stations, without her making a movement. She ap- 
 parently finishes the paper ; and putting it down, takes 
 from her satchel a novel. This she begins to read, get- 
 ting more and more interested ; and her face reflecting 
 the passions and emotions of the book. Barnes can see 
 it is one of Ouida's, and hardly thinks it is just the thing 
 for his divinity to peruse ; for, though Barnes enjoys 
 Ouida himself, like many other men, he prefers to have 
 all the wickedness in his family and he almost DOW re* 
 
5* Mk BARNES OF NEW YORK 
 
 gards the girl in that light concentrated In himself. ?%' 
 at last sees the title and is relieved; it is "Two Little 
 Wooden Shoes," perhaps the most pathetic story evet 
 written ; containing no wickedness, nothing but tears, 
 Some of these have g: ' into the girl's eyes and add tr 
 her loveliness as the uain stops at Montereau. Here 
 Barnes fears she is going to leave him, but she is so 
 interested in the novel, she merely looks up, calls 
 the guard to her and says, " Find Lady Chartris, who is 
 on this train, and tell her Miss Anstruther will join her at 
 the next station ! " ther ouries herself in the book once 
 more. As the guard J oes away, Barnes blesses the 
 genius of Ouida that haj given him a little more time. 
 The train rushes on, and after finishing the story and 
 wiping the tears from her eyes with the back of her hand, 
 unconsciously, the girl looks out of the carriage window 
 at the passing scenery. But no one can commune with 
 average French views, for more than a quarter of an 
 hour at a time ; she turns from the window with a little 
 pathetic half yawn, half sigh ; tosses away her hat, which 
 exposes a few new beauties, and tries to find a spot in 
 the cushion that is softer than her cheek, that she may 
 rest it against it and go to sleep. 
 
 Her expression becomes dreamy and contemplative ; 
 she looks quietly at Barnes, and, after a little, her eyes 
 have a slight smile of recognition in them, which makes 
 the young man hope she is discovering that he is the 
 Barnes of the canvas ! She is really remembering him 
 as Mrs. Vavassour's dissipated modern young Faust of 
 the La Belle Blackwood episode, and her glance becomes 
 a trifle sterner. 
 
 Barnes surreptitiously consults his watch. It is after 
 two o'clock. He must act now or never I At this mo 
 ment, a sudden thought seems to come to Miss Anstru- 
 ther ; she rouses into activity, opens her eyes wider with 
 a little smile, as if, metaphorically patting herself on the 
 back, for a bright idea ; sits erect in the seat, picks up 
 her paper again which is the Figaro of the morning 
 and studies it carefully, going over it line by line and 
 column by column, not even omitting the advertisements. 
 She is not exactly reading the journal, but apparently 
 earnestly seeking for some one item of news in the edi 
 ion before her 
 
MIL BARNLb OF NEW YORK. tf 
 
 * What the deuce is she after now," wonders the Ameri- 
 can ; " shall I offer to help her find it ? " It is just as 
 well that he does not, for by this time she has finished the 
 paper and her eyes have a severely moral expression in 
 them, though she gives a slight laugh and a veiled glance 
 at Mr. Barnes. 
 
 " By George ! she is recognizing me as her darling of 
 the canvas," thinks that gentleman in rapture. 
 
 In reality Miss Anstruthei is thinking what an atro 
 cious fib the modern Faust has uttered that morning in 
 the Salon, where he publicly stated that he had read La 
 Belle Blackwood's address in the day's Figaro. Having 
 the paper at hand and wishing to kill time, it had oc- 
 curred to her to examine the journal and see if the 
 young gentleman opposite had arrived at his rather 
 compromising knowledge from the general source he 
 said he had. This she has done, with a result entirely 
 disastrous to Faust's reputation for both morality and 
 veracity. 
 
 Emboldened by his flattering view of the causes of his 
 charmer's demeanor, the time for Tonnerre, their 
 next stoppage, drawing near, and desperately anxious to 
 do something to advance his cause, Barnes strives as 
 nearly as possible to give himself the attitude of the 
 Barnes of the picture; attempting to throw the same sor- 
 rowing pathos into his eyes. This has a fearful effect on 
 the girl; she blushes red and is anxiously uneasy as she 
 thinks he is slightly intoxicated. Made more confident 
 by the evident effect he has produced, and wishing to hear 
 the melody of her voice again for it is now all of four 
 hours since she last spoke in his hearing, in the Salon' 
 Barnes, as she is laying down the paper, eagerly says: 
 "Would you allow me to examine your Figaro, Miss ; I 
 have not as yet seen this morning's edition ! " 
 
 Her answer comes cold as an iceberg, and disdainful 
 as a saint addressing a sinner " Certainly ! " 
 
 With this one word she hands him the paper with the 
 same apparent unconcern she would have shoved it into 
 a patent letter-box. 
 
 " Many thanks !" murmurs the blushing Barnes, who 
 is suddenly conscious that his words if she remembers 
 him at all have convicted him of a deliberate fib. He 
 (eels crushed and uncomfortable, buries himself behind 
 
58 MR. BARNES OF NEW YORK. 
 
 the paper and tries to appear to read it, though foi a 
 moment he doesn't see a line. 
 
 The girl turns from him and looking out of the window 
 thinks, what a deceitful wretch the creature inside is ; 
 and that her gallant sailor brother would have disdained 
 to have told such a frightful lie. In this, however, she is 
 mistaken; her gallant sailor brother would, under similar 
 circumstances, have told just such a frightful lie, if he 
 had been smart enough to think of it. But women have 
 a way of deifying those they love, and thinking them bet- 
 ter than other men ; otherwise but few of us would have 
 much chance of holding their respect. 
 
 As Barnes looks at her beautiful but uncompromising 
 back, it suddenly flashes on him that, when they reach 
 Tonnerre, the girl will join her party ; and then his pre- 
 sent chance is gone from him forever. However, he will 
 still follow her. He looks at his pocket-book and finds 
 a thousand francs in bills, also his letter of credit. 1 in- 
 ances are all right, and he can telegraph for his servant 
 and baggage. If he is to win, he realizes now that he 
 must adopt some settled plan of action; and, begins to 
 think of those who have conquered in love's wars before, 
 and what assistance he can derive from their experience. 
 He remembers that the most successful man, with the 
 fair sex, he had ever known, had once summed up his 
 ideas on the subject in these words : " The woman who 
 conquers, despises; the woman who is conquered, loves!" 
 
 Barnes determines he will conquer Miss Anstruther; 
 but the question is, how ? While he is pondering over 
 it, the train slackens speed and a moment after comes to 
 a standstill, as the guard calls out "Tonnerre !** 
 
 So far Mr. Barnes has not made one step towards sue 
 :ess; but here an unexpected stroke of luck awaits him. 
 
 The young lady, as soon as the guard opens the car- 
 riage door, says hurriedly to him in French that has but 
 a slight accent, " Did you deliver my message to Lad> 
 Chartris ? Which is her carriage?" 
 
 " I did not, Mademoiselle ! " 
 
 "And why not?" her voice is slightly imperious. 
 
 " I could not find her ! " 
 
 To which the young lady replies impatiently, " Then 
 do so at once ! Lady Chartris is English. When you 
 have found her, come back and take me to her * " 
 
ik BARNES OF NEW YORK. 59 
 
 The official touches his hat and walks off, as the girl 
 takes up her satchel, shakes her dress out and prepares 
 to disappear from Mr. Barnes' view. 
 
 Anxious for another word, before she leaves him, the 
 American cannot restrain himself from saying, " I beg 
 your pardon; here is your paper, Miss !" offering her the 
 journal. 
 
 Her answer is again disappointing, "I shall not use it; 
 please don't trouble yourself ! " 
 
 The next instant the guard is again at the carriage 
 door, and says respectfully, *' Mademoiselle, the lady you 
 spoke of is not on the train ! " 
 
 A look of consternation comes over the girl's face, but 
 she recovers herself and exclaims, " Impossible ! When 
 you inquired, she can't have understood you. She im- 
 agines she speaks French perfectly, but your Breton 
 accent would be entirely beyond her ! " 
 
 Not relishing this reflection on his dialect the man 
 says shortly, " I am sure she is not on this train ! " 
 
 " But she must be ! She has no right to be anywhere 
 else. You did not mistake the name, Lady Chartrist 
 She is English, and fat and fifty, and has three children; 
 a boy in knickerbockers and two girls one so high" 
 the young lady holds up her hand, "and another, a 
 foot shorter; and two servant- women, one of them my 
 maid ! inquire again ! " The guard disappears. 
 
 This description of lady Chartris has given Barnes a 
 spasm of hope, for he guesses she is the fat woman with 
 the three children who has missed the train. This 
 view of the matter is made certainty by the railway officer 
 returning and announcing, "There is no woman with 
 three children on this train ! " 
 
 At this, the girl gives a little shiver of anxiety; and 
 says, " I can't believe you. She would not dare to leave 
 me here alone. Help me out, let me see for myself ! " 
 
 As she steps from the carriage the official suggests, 
 politely, for he rather pities her embarrassment, " I will 
 keep this seat reserved for you as all the other carriages 
 are nearly full, and I am sure the lady, you seek, is not 
 on the train ! " 
 
 Hardly heeding his words, the girl runs off; but, while 
 this has been going on, Barnes has been plotting how to 
 conquer the young lady's frigidity of manner to him, and 
 
<fe> MIL BARNES OF NEW YORK. 
 
 has decided on starving her. He has seen wild animala 
 subdued by hunger, in India; and, a little hunger, he 
 judges, will help his case with Miss Anstruther. In fact 
 he almost chuckles to himself, " The worse off she, the 
 better off I." 
 
 The problem before him now is, hov? ,o keep a girt, 
 of at least average sense r.nd probably enough money, 
 from getting anything to c. t until she calls him to her 
 aid. It is seven hours more to Lyons, with two stops of 
 consequence Dijon and Macon. He looks the guard 
 ?ver and imagines he has solved it. 
 
 By this time, the object of his solid, jde is back again ; 
 exclaiming, " What am I to do, that fearful old woman * 
 (she is angry and excV-' x "is not here ! When does tha 
 irain arrive at Lyons ? '' 
 
 " At ten-fifteen ! " 
 
 44 How long before a return train starts for Paris ? * 
 
 Barnes' heart sinks and he gets hastily out of the car- 
 riage to return to Paris himself. 
 
 " In about three-quarters of an hour ! " 
 
 She looks at her watch ; it is now almost a quarter 
 after three and asks, " A fast train ? M 
 
 " No ! a local ; take you there by ten to-night ! " 
 
 Hesitating a moment she says, " See if there's a tele- 
 gram for Miss Anstruther at the office ! " and fearing he 
 may mistake the name, gives the guard her card. 
 
 The man takes this, but returns almost instantly say- 
 Ing, " No telegram !" 
 
 " When does the train after this one leave Paris foi 
 Lyons?" 
 
 "At twenty minutes past twelve ! " 
 
 " Why she's only an hour behind me ! " joyfully cries 
 the girl. " She will overtake me at Lyons ! I shall go on ! " 
 *nd steps back into the carriage again. 
 
 The guard hardly catches the whole of this, anothei 
 passenger has also spoken to him. Barnes knows tha'. 
 this twelve - twenty train is a slow accommodation 
 that travels as if its engine was eternally stopping, for 
 repairs, and will not arrive at Lyons till late next morn- 
 ing. He is aware that he should now go up to Miss 
 Anstruther and tell her what he knows ; but he is also 
 Very confident that his best chance of gaining the friend- 
 ship of the girl is when she most needs a friend : and 
 
MIL BARNES OF NEW YORK* 
 
 that will be in Lyons to-night. Soothing his conscience 
 with the vile maxim that, "All is fair in love and war,** 
 he walks into the ticket office and buys six extra tickets 
 for the vacant places in his compartment ; comes out, 
 goes after the guard, and, taking care he is out of sight 
 of Miss Anstruther, silently holds out a twenty-franc 
 piece. That official smiles, instantly pockets it and says, 
 " What can I do for Monsieur ? " 
 
 To which Barnes promptly responds, " See that no 
 one takes seats in my compartment! I have here the 
 extra tickets ! " showing them to the man. " A supper 
 will meet me at Dijon ; if the young lady asks to get out, 
 to eat, either at Dijon or Macon, tell her there is no 
 time ! " 
 
 " But if she insists on getting out herself ? " 
 
 " Offer to bring what she orders to her ; she is alone 
 and will accept ; then don't do it. Immediately after 
 she indicates she is hungry, pass my supper into me ; I 
 want Mademoiselle to accept of my hospitality ! " 
 
 " Ah ! " says the guard, " you are tpris with Madem- 
 oiselle?" 
 
 "Quite!" and Barnes to prove it, produces another 
 gold twenty-franc piece remarking, " Earn this and you'll 
 get it at Lyons ! " 
 
 The man replies, " I shall call on you at Lyons ! ** 
 
 Barnes knows the affair is arranged, goes hurriedly 
 into the telegraph office and sends a telegram to a well- 
 known restaurant at Dijon. 
 
 During this stoppage, two men have walked up and 
 down the platform and eyed Barnes and the girl, and 
 now one of them goes into the telegraph station after him 
 and sends a telegram addressed to 
 
 " Co*nt Musso Dantlla, Paris* 
 
 Mr. Barnes hurries out of the office ; and catches the 
 train that is now about to proceed. As he enters the car, 
 *he English girl noticing the wild triumph of his glance, 
 thinks with a shudder, " He surely must be a little drunk ; " 
 and so he is, drunk with happiness for he now feels 
 that he's got his angel to himself for at fc^st six short 
 hours 
 
62 MR. BARNES OF NEW YOWL 
 
 CHAPTER VIIL 
 
 CONQUERED ! 
 
 THIS curious conceit of the girl, affects her manner ti 
 him. Miss Anstruther is now an iceberg, for she knowi 
 she is alone and unprotected. 
 
 As the American sees that any passing glance of his 
 causes her to instantly turn her head coldly away, he 
 thinks rather savagely, "Wonder if she supposes I am 
 brute enough to take advantage of her loneliness and 
 insult her. By Heaven ! if any man dares to approach 
 that angel in an unpleasant way!" and he grinds his 
 teeth at the thought; and then such are the idiocies 
 of love he almost wishes some unlucky Frenchman 
 would insult his divinity that he might fall upon him, 
 beat him, bang his head against the floor, dash him out 
 of the car-window, and generally make a hero of himself, 
 in defense of this delicate girl that he proposes to starve 
 into better acquaintance with his virtues. 
 
 The object of his tender regard has again picked up 
 Ouida, and is trying to turn her attention to another 
 short story; but she apparently makes bad work of this, 
 and is becoming anxious. She puts the book down and 
 looks at her watch. 
 
 "Egad! she is getting impatient for something,* 
 thinks Barnes, who is beginning to study her in a grim, 
 philosophical manner ; " wonder if it's dinner ! " 
 
 A moment after, Miss Anstruther looks out of the 
 window, and keeps at this till her admirer gets impatient, 
 for he is now no longer happy unless he sees her face 
 every minute. 
 
 However, this does not last forever; she once more 
 picks up her bag, produces a bundle of old letters and 
 reads them. Perceiving they are in a masculine hand, 
 Barnes wonders whom they are from ; and hates him, 
 whoever he is. 
 
 Then she again looks at her watch, this time petu- 
 iantly; and, putting away her correspondence, takes out 
 her handkerchief, wipes the mist from the window with 
 it, and gazes out again, but only for a moment. She is 
 evidently nervous, plays with her bracelet, and is now 
 
MR BARNES OF NEW YORK. 63 
 
 quite restless; and, after another glance at her watch, 
 she searches hurriedly in her satchel. Barnes fears it is 
 for cake or candy, or something that women eat, and 
 feels relieved when she takes out a pocket guide-book, 
 and studies it, and runs up and down time tables, and 
 brings out a little gold pencil, but instead of figuring 
 with it, knits her brow, and chews abstractedly the end 
 of it. Apparently, either not being sufficient of a mathe- 
 matician, or not finding exactly what she wants, she seems 
 about to speak to him but suddenly checks herself 
 and goes to tying knots in her handkerchief in a mechani- 
 cal way, that makes Barnes fear that she is not hungry, 
 and may be a female Doctor Tanner. 
 
 His alarm is shortly terminated, by her voice coming 
 to him, rather hesitatingly and nervously, but very 
 sweetly : " Excuse me, sir, but have you traveled this 
 route before ? " 
 
 " Often ! " says Barnes. His voice indicates he is 
 sober and she gains courage. 
 
 " Do we arrive at Dijon soon ? * 
 
 " In fifteen minutes, barring accidents " he replies, 
 looking at his watch. 
 
 "The train stops there for refreshments?" this anx- 
 iously. 
 
 " Sometimes ! " says the American, hardly able to con- 
 ceal his delight; as he knows that appetite has got the 
 better of Miss Anstruther; then he continues, " Being 
 alone, you had better ask the guard; he will bring you 
 anything you may want ! " and considers himself quite a 
 Machiavelll 
 
 " I thank you very much ! f> The girl's voice is so 
 grateful that Barnes could bite his tongue for being a 
 brute; for by this time, she looks quite pale and worn 
 out. But he excuses his heartlessness by thinking how 
 his darling will enjoy her supper when she does get it 
 And this leads to the reflection, as he views the girl's 
 impatient and hungry look and remembers he has heard 
 her say that she has had no lunch, that he and the guard 
 will probably have their hands full in Dijon; for, doubt 
 less Miss Anstruther will make a very lively and desper- 
 ate fight to get somethimg to eat, during the twenty 
 minutes she will spend in sight of the refreshment room 
 y Ve can't use force? diplomacy must be our only stand 
 
64 MK. BARNES OF NEW YORK 
 
 -it will be a close call." As he thinks this, the lightf 
 of Dijon come in sight, for it is now almost evening. 
 
 The instant the train comes to a stop, the English 
 girl beckons at the window of the carriage to the guard. 
 That worthy apparently does not see her, and opens the 
 joor of every other compartment but hers then dis- 
 appears, going towards the locomotive, as if some one 
 had called him away. After a little, he returns again 
 and passes into the telegraph office; wanders out and 
 thinks a man calls him to another carriage, and talks to 
 the people in it During this, about half the passengers 
 get out and go to the refreshment room. The sight 
 makes the girl impatient, for now she taps violently on 
 the window of her carriage. At last, the guard sees her 
 and comes slowly and opens the door. Barnes is delight- 
 ed with him; he has already disposed of nearly ten 
 minutes. 
 
 The young lady says sharply, for she is justly angry 
 " Why did you not open this door, when you did the rest ?* 
 
 " I was called away to the engine f " 
 
 "What have you to do with the engine I" 
 
 Barnes chuckles, the girl is wasting time by asking 
 questions and playing his game for him. 
 
 But hunger brings her back to business, and she comes 
 to the point with "I want you to bring me something to 
 eat i " 
 
 Anything to drink t* 
 
 " Of course ! Tea or coffee either I " 
 
 The man hesitates, catches Barnes' eye and still seeing 
 twenty francs in it says, "Certainly! Mademoiselle 
 there is ample time. What would you like? I will bring 
 he bill of fare?" He runs away but stays some time, 
 and when he returns, remarks, "There is no printed 
 ncnu, but they have everything," and begins to ^ 
 slowly and with great consideration, correcting himself 
 several times, nearly a list of the market of Paris. 
 
 Miss Anstruther cuts him short with, "Bring me any 
 tnmg > but bring it quickly ' H 
 
 He departs \ she takes off her gloves, showing a pan 
 of white hands and dimpled wrists, and prepares eagerl) 
 to eat But after she has had time to grow impatient thi 
 guard comes back and disgusts her by asking deferca 
 ; Al)y Wft Mademoiselle have it hot or cold ?* 
 
MR. BARNES OP NEW YOAK. if 
 
 "Hot i cold ! any way But be quick ! * 
 
 He departs again. Barnes looks at his watch, and she 
 has now but eight minutes 
 
 Five of these pass the girl is beating her foot 5m 
 patiently upon the floor. The other passengers are 
 coming out of the refreshment room and taking their 
 places on the train. 
 
 This sight makes the famished beauty desperate ; she 
 is about to get out of the car and make a struggle to get 
 something herself; when Barnes, suddenly hears her 
 utter a little purr of joy, and, to his disgust, sees the guard 
 elbowing his way through the crowd, followed by a boy 
 bearing a tray, laden with eatables enough for half a 
 dozen ; and, curses the man, under his breath, for having 
 betrayed him at the last moment. 
 
 They are nearly at the car ; the girl, with a smile of 
 hope on her face, anxiously extends her hands; the 
 garfon runs forward to give her the tray ; but, by some 
 fatality, the man's foot gets in front of the boy ; he trips 
 over it and falls headlong on the platform, completely 
 destroying Miss Anstruther's last chance of a meal. She 
 utters a cry of almost despair and is springing out to make 
 a desperate flying rush to the refreshment saloon, when 
 the guard says, "Macon is the next buffet!" sudden r 
 slaps the door in her face, locks it and cries, "All 
 aboard ! " and then goes very deliberately about fasten- 
 ing the other doors, for it is fully two minutes more be- 
 fore the train leaves. When it does so, it has on it a 
 very hungry and very angry young lady, in the third 
 compartment of the last carriage, who mutters piteously, 
 "The idiot ! locked me in first! He might have given me 
 * chance at a sandwich ? " 
 
 But now a horrible fear comes to Barnes ; what if hit 
 iupper is not on the train. At this, he begins to feel 
 tungry himself, sympathises with the girl, and wonders 
 if she can endure two hours and a half more fasting to 
 Macon ; if his villainy has caused such a disaster, for the 
 girl's little hand is trembling with rage, or hunger, or 
 both, and there are tears of disappointment in her eyes. 
 
 He is relieved from this fear at the first station ; the 
 train pauses for thirty seconds. The guard unlocks the 
 door of their compartment and puts in a large basket. 
 
 As hs does so t Miss Anstruther's face becomes 
 
-; jkR. BARNES OP NEW YORK. 
 
 ant j she cries, " You have got it at last! How nice! * 
 
 and extends her hand. 
 
 The guard stops her, by saying sententiously, " For 
 Monsieur! ordered by telegraph ! L* addition!" giving 
 Barnes the bill. He pays this, adding a pour-boire for 
 the man, and the next instant they are dashing on again, 
 the lunch on the floor of the car between them. 
 
 The disappointed girl has collapsed, on the cuskioni 
 of her seat; she makes a great effort to appear indifferent, 
 but her eyes rest on the basket in a longing, greedy, 
 wistful stare. 
 
 One look at her is sufficient. " She is hungry as a wolf 
 -only waiting to be asked," thinks Barnes, and he 
 politely suggests, " Permit me to repair the stupidity of 
 the guard. I have plenty for two ; please accept a part 
 of my supper, Miss ! ** 
 
 Disappointment and astonishment ! Miss Anstruther 
 Bays coldly, but with a hesitation, born of the battle she 
 does with herself, "I thank you; I am not very hungry!** 
 
 She is no fool to go fasting when the pantry is at her 
 hand and was on the point of accepting, when an in- 
 definable something about the affair she can't tell what 
 makes her suspicious ; perhaps the guard was too 
 clumsy; perhaps Barnes too anxious; perhaps it was in* 
 stinct; but she is suspicious of something, she doesn't 
 know what, and declines. 
 
 " That is probably the biggest whopper my angel ever 
 told," is Barnes* conclusion, as he returns in his most 
 persuasive manner, " But you are a little hungry; now I 
 Jiink I can tempt you ! w 
 
 But here, a great rush of joy comes over the girl's face, 
 and she petrifies him with these amazing words: " I thank 
 you again; I have just remembered I have plenty to eat!" 
 
 With this she picks up her bag, goes to the very 
 bottom of it and fishes out a white paper parcel that 
 makes Barnes* jaw drop, for it has evidently come from 
 a confectioner. 
 
 The poor fellow, at this moment, feels like throwing 
 his unopened basket out of the window; as he reflects, 
 " What an ass I was to imagine a girl ever traveled with- 
 out sweetmeats ; it's about the same as guessing I'd run 
 about without cigars in my pocket." With this he feels 
 :oi one, and in a melancholy way begins to remembel 
 
MR. BARNES OF NEW YORK. 67 
 
 that there is a smoking compartment, and he has forgot- 
 ten his weed for over eight hours all on account of this 
 girl, who would sooner starve than accept bread at his 
 hands. 
 
 A rustling of the paper parcel comes from Miss 
 Anstruther's corner; he glances at her. She has opened 
 the package, that apparently had been full of bonbons 
 and is taking from it piece after piece of crumpled white 
 paper, a look of amazed disappointment on her face. 
 At last, she comes to the end, and draws out two miser- 
 able gumdrops and a card with a word or two upon it. 
 The gumdrops go straight to her mouth, for even, in 
 this moment of discomfiture, she is unable to resist such 
 edible morsels. She reads the card and exclaims 
 viciously, " The little fiend ! " then gives one long, hope- 
 less sigh that nearly ends in a sob, that makes Barnes 
 crazy to comfort her. But he fights it down, and, open- 
 ing his basket, goes to eating his/0/* dc foic-gras with 
 very good appetite, for he now feels sure, that Miss 
 Anstruther will very soon be eating it with him. 
 
 By the rather dim light of the car lamp he can see 
 that the girl is watching his evident enjoyment of the 
 mea! with a sad, wistful longing in her beautiful eyes, 
 and Barnes rather savagely thinks, "she'll eat humble- 
 pie before long, i. e., pate dc foic-gras" After a little 
 she makes an effort to speak, then desperately checks 
 herself, and a single silent tear rolls down her cheek. 
 He can stand it no longer; gives her another chance, and 
 does it generously. 
 
 " You'd better change your mind, Miss ; railroad trav- 
 eling makes one hungry. Won't you let me give you 
 some of my plenty ? " 
 
 "With pleasure!" 
 
 " Then you are hungry ? " cried Barnes. 
 
 "Awfully ! " she gasps, with a faint attempt at a laugh, 
 and the next instant she is in the land of plenty. She 
 doesn't know exactly how; but it is, as if she had called 
 on the genius of the lamp a napkin is on her lap 
 her plate is covered with everything she seems most to 
 like and want, and Mr. Barnes is acting as the attendant 
 spirit. She tells him so, and he laughingly replies, 
 " Then you must be little Aladdin ; but if I remember 
 the Arabian Nights, that little Chinese scamp woulcj 
 
68 MR. BARNES OF NEW YORK. 
 
 rubbed his lamp and been fed half an hour ago ; don't 
 you think it would be more like it, to picture me as 
 Aladdin, the guard as the genius, and yourself as the 
 princess of China, who was so haughtily beautiful ? " 
 
 Miss Anstruther blushes slightly at this audacious 
 comparison. She remembers the princess married Alad- 
 din ; but says nothing, as stimulated by enforced absti- 
 nence, she is devoting her pretty mouth to the pleasures 
 of gastronomy; falling to, as Barnes rapturously expresses 
 it, with as much vigor as an angel after Lent. 
 
 " Of course, I've no tea or coffee to offer you," he 
 apologizes, " but a little Chablis will do you more good 
 than all the slops on earth; you look quite pale!" 
 
 And so the girl does, though her color is gradually 
 coming back to her. 
 
 " I fear I am robbing you ! M 
 
 "Oh! I've plenty! I ordered supper for two!" he 
 impulsively says. 
 
 "For two?" a little look of surprise on her face. 
 Barnes hides his face in the basket, pretending to look 
 for something. " Yes, two plates, two knives and forks, 
 two wine-glasses how very curious ! " 
 
 -I I've got such an awful appetite you see!" he 
 desperately suggests. 
 
 "Then you'd better prove it," she laughs; "you've 
 eaten positively nothing ! " 
 
 And Barnes is compelled to sit down and do duty be- 
 side her, which is very pleasant, as he has a very fair 
 digestion himself. As ru- her a glass of Bur- 
 
 gundy, a wild rush of electricity goes through him; their 
 hands have met accidentally for the first time. The girl 
 drinks, and whether it is the wine or something else, her 
 face has regained all its lost color. 
 
 There is something in the deference of his manner 
 gives her confidence in him; and, as Enid Anstruther 
 never does things by halves, when he suggests cham- 
 pagne which he knows is generally a favorite with wo- 
 men she simply says, " I'll take anything you wish me ! " 
 
 The grateful Barnes piles her plate with hot-house 
 grapes, bonbons and little things men don't as a rule care 
 for, but women adore. 
 
 She looks at these effeminate delicacies meditatively 
 and says, " Jf this is your railway dinner, what a Syba* 
 
MR. BARNES OF NEW YORK. 69 
 
 rite you must be, at home; one would think you had 
 expected company ! " 
 
 The young man parries this dangerous thrust, by re- 
 turning, " You must be just the opposite ; you imagine 
 you can make a ten-hour journey on two small gum- 
 drops." 
 
 " Oh ! that cruel disappointment/' she says. " I can 
 laugh now, but half an hour ago I could have annihi- 
 lated her. Maude Chartris is, at twelve, a glutton and 
 a practical joker. She got into my bag, ate all my can- 
 dy, replaced it by those paper balls and left me her 
 card." And she passes Barnes a square piece of paste- 
 board that has upon it, in a child's hand, the following: 
 
 " This is to even us for your telling ma I had hanged it to the 
 chandalier by its tale. You are a cat yourself. 
 
 MAUD." 
 
 " A sweet child ! I adore her ! " says Barnes, who 
 thinks of the service the " enfant terrible " has done him. 
 
 " Indeed I don't ! and I'll show her mother this carc^ 
 and " reaching for it. 
 
 " If you do," returns Mr. Barnes promptly, " I shafc 
 send Miss Maud Chartris enough candy to keep her sick 
 for a year. You'd better let me destroy this ! " and 
 without waiting for her answer he tears up the card. 
 
 " You take a great liberty with my correspondence ! " 
 says Miss Anstruther, coloring. 
 
 "Admitted ! but think how grateful we both ought to 
 be to her. You would have made yourself sick on gum- 
 drops, and I should have been lonely and disconsolate 
 over in that corner " for he is sitting near the girl now 
 " and all this has been changed by the cat and that 
 cherub ! Forgive the angelic child." 
 
 " An hour ago I could have made the angelic child very 
 unhappy, but now " she looks at the dainty fragments 
 about her " I'll forgive even Maud Chartris ! " Then, 
 Miss Anstruther turns the conversation deftly, giving 
 Barnes opportunity to tell who he is, of which he takes 
 advantage in a manner that is perhaps not too modest. 
 
 While he does so, the girl is looking at him in a dreamy 
 way, and thinking the man talking to her can't be such 
 an awful dissipated reprobate as Mrs. Vavassour thinks 
 him ; for though he knew the address of that fearful 
 
70 MR. BARNES OF NEW YORK. 
 
 woman, La Belle Blackwood, still he told a horrid fib be* 
 cause he was ashamed of it. And so Mr. Barnes* two 
 wrongs make one right, in the mind he wants most to 
 think well of him, as the train runs into Macon Junc- 
 tion; where fortune is waiting to again smile upon the 
 enterprising American. 
 
 Finding Miss Anstruther wants nothing, Barnes slips 
 out to the telegraph station and wires Paris for his servant 
 and luggage; encounters the guard, who grins myste- 
 riously at him, gives him his twenty francs, and some- 
 thing more for the garfon who destroyed his darling's 
 hopes of dinner at Dijon; directs him to get him two 
 railroad rugs, lights a cigar, and is back at the carriage 
 to find the young lady is not there. 
 
 He waits at the door for her. The guard brings the 
 wraps and places them in the compartment, and has 
 hardly gone away, when the girl, for whom the American 
 has been straining his eyes in the uncertain light of the 
 station, comes hurriedly to him and says under her breath 
 in a somewhat perturbed manner, " Two men are fol- 
 lowing me ! Wait till they pass; and as they do, please 
 help me into the compartment as if you were my escort! " 
 
 " Certainly! " says Barnes. " Point out the scoundn 
 
 u Here they are ! " whispers the girl. He takes a long 
 look at the two men who are pursuing him, and a- 
 the girl into the car with the devotion of a honeymoon 
 husband. 
 
 She blushes a little at this, but he checks any remark 
 by saying, " Now tell me what these men have said or 
 done to you ? " 
 
 " Nothing ! only I heard one of them remark to the 
 other, 'Keep your eye on the English girl; she's less 
 trouble than the male bird, and just as safe;' and then he 
 gave a description of me! " 
 
 "The miserable scoundrel!" mutters Barnes, who 
 wonders to himself what man can be villain enough to 
 pursue and persecute such a beautiful creature; rather 
 forgetting his own present occupation. "Just let him 
 give me a chance " 
 
 But any plots of vengeance are stopped by Mist 
 Anstruther, who says, " You must do nothing in this 
 matter You see how I am placed. " 
 
 -Perfectly'" 
 
MR. BARNES OF NEW YORK. Jl 
 
 M I noticed you throw away a cigar, as you entered 
 this car please light another one I know how dear the 
 habit is to your sex. " 
 
 " Not in your presence ! " says Barnes, with the self- 
 denial of a devotee; for, even with her, a cigar would add 
 a little to his bliss. 
 
 " I'm accustomed to it. My brother has educated me 
 to like smoke besides if those men saw you smoking 
 they would be sure you were my my brother! " says 
 the girl with another little blush. 
 
 " Then on that ground only will I oblige you, " and he 
 lights up with an attempted air of reluctance ; all the 
 time thinking her brother must be a chap of infinite 
 common-sense, and that the girl has been well grounded 
 in one of the first great duties of wifehood. 
 
 After a little the young lady with a low sigh of con* 
 tentment goes to sleep. Barnes is delighted that she 
 seems so confident in his presence, that even the men 
 who are following her have lost all terror for hrr, as her 
 rest is as quiet as that of a tired child. A mass of her 
 hair has fallen from its coils and trails down in beautiful 
 contrast to the cheek upon which it rests; one little 
 hand supports her head, the other hangs within easy reach 
 of Barnes, who looks at it and wonders if it ever will be 
 his. 
 
 When Miss Anstruther awakes she is astonished to 
 find herself carefully wrapped up in railroad rugs, and 
 though the night is now quite cold, she has slept very 
 comfortably for almost two hours and is in Lyons. She 
 throws a grateful glance at the man who has cared for 
 her so thoughtfully; crying, "You had no overcoat, 
 why didn't you keep one rug for yourself?" 
 
 4< I wasn't cold!" After this Barnes keeps silent, 
 knowing that the girl will at Lyons find herself in a fear- 
 ful dilemma, and modestly waiting to be asked to help 
 her out of it. 
 
 " I shall have to remain here almost an hour for Lady 
 Chartris ! Will you take me to the waiting room you 
 have been so kind, you don't mind my troubling you a 
 little more ?" 
 
 "Not at all!" says Barnes, "but how will Lady Char- 
 tris get here in another hour ? " 
 
 " Why she must have left Paris on the twelve-twe^, 
 
7 MR. BARNES OF NEW YORK. 
 
 one hour behind us. I've studied arithmetic, Ml 
 Barnes ! " remarks the young lady laughing. 
 
 " But not the time-table ! The twelve-twenty is a locai 
 which lays over at Dijon, and does not arrive before to- 
 morrow morning," and he shows her the schedule in the 
 Railroad Guide. 
 
 "But there must be some express, some train that 
 comes sooner ! M 
 
 " Yes ! the seven-twenty, due here about four A. if. 
 That's the earliest to arrive; you'll have either six hours 
 in Lyons, or no Lady Chartris ! " 
 
 "Six hours here! Alone! At night! And then those 
 awful men ! " The first three of these are gasps of dis- 
 may ; the last a whisper of horror. 
 
 The guard here opens the door and says, " A telegram ! ** 
 handing Miss Anstruther a dispatch. 
 
 The girl pounces upon and bolts this message, and it 
 seems to crush her, for she exclaims piteously, "Good 
 Heavens ! What am I to do ?" 
 
 This is not addressed to Barnes, but to Providence ; 
 but that gentleman takes upon himself to answer for 
 them both. "Just explain exactly what you want and 
 HI do it for you." 
 
 She darts upon him a grateful look and then ad- 
 dresses him, "My brother is an officer in the English 
 navy. For two years I have not seen him ! His vessel is 
 now in Nice ; but will, at the most, remain there but two 
 days longer. Lady Chartris has missed our train and 
 now telegraphs me, she doesn't like night travel, and will 
 not leave Paris till to-morrow. If I wait for her I shall 
 probably miss my brother; what am I to do?" 
 
 " Why, go on to Nice by yourself, of course ! " says 
 Barnes. 
 
 "But I can't, ^Lady Chartris is a stupid, selfish old/ 
 woman, who thinks of nothing but herself and her children. 
 My ticket is only to Lyons. I have my letter of credit 
 with me, but not " a slight hesitation " not enough 
 money to go on, as no banks are open and I am un- 
 known Will you lend me five pounds on " here she 
 blushes red, and Barnes blushes also as he sees her hand 
 go to a diamond ring on her finger "on my honor!'* 
 she says suddenly and proudly, " I am EnicJ Anstruther * 
 *nd she thrusts her card into his hand 
 
R. BARNES OF NEW YORK. fj 
 
 This stroiu, of fortune takes Barnes' breath away, but 
 he Tnanages to puii himself together and says, bowing, 
 " Miss Anstrutner, you can have a hundred pounds if 
 you like, and I can get them; but anyway, you'd better 
 takt Jen ; you may find traveling more expensive than 
 you expect!" and he gives her the money. "Only please 
 don'l thank me ! " for the girl is about to express herself 
 very warmly. 
 
 " Njw I'll get you a siceping-berth ! " He goes to the 
 office wnd discovers that all are engaged, comes back, 
 gives hjr the dismal intelligence, and after a moment's 
 pause sjys, "Do two hours more or less make much 
 difference to you in Nice ? " 
 
 ' No, not a great deal ! " replies Miss Anstruther con- 
 sideringly. 
 
 "Then you'd better go to * hotel here, get a good 
 sleep, and leave on the four A. M. train," he suggests ; 
 for he does not want his darling s beauty or comfort af- 
 fected by her knocking about aii night in a crowded 
 carriage, and he can see the train will be a full one. " I 
 am going on thut one myself ! " 
 
 "Oh! to Nice?" This is an expression of sudden 
 joy from Miss Anstruther. 
 
 " If you like, I will make all the arrangements for 
 you ! " 
 
 "Will you ?" her eyes beam in gratitude. 
 
 Upon this, he helps her from the car and says, " Do 
 you prefer to walk or ride ? It is not a great distance to 
 the Hotel de 1'Europe." 
 
 " Which ever you please ! " 
 
 "A little exercise will be best, after the confinement of 
 *he train you have perfect confidence in me?" con* 
 tinues Barnes. 
 
 The girl's eyes look straight into his for a moment, 
 then she says, " Entire ! Do what you think best for 
 me ! " and places her arm in his as trustfully as if she 
 had known him all her life. 
 
 During the short walk to the hotel, Barnes is in 
 Heaven ; but Miss Anstruther is a vigorous pedestrian, 
 and this joy is fleeting. Arrived there, the young lady 
 is shown into the ladies' parlor, and he goes to make the 
 arrangements for her. A few moments after a neat 
 French maid shows her to her apartments, the windows 
 
74 MR. BARNES OP NEW YORK. 
 
 of which overlook the Bellecour, which is beautiful in the 
 moonlight. In her parlor a cosy fire is burning brightly, 
 and an appetizing supper is on the table. The maid 
 whispers to her, " The gentleman said I was to come and 
 help you dress at half past three in the morning; at four a 
 carriage will be here, to take you to the train." 
 
 11 And the gentleman?" says Miss Anstruther rather 
 eagerly. 
 
 He left the hotel ten minutes ago!" is the reply, 
 11 but said I was to do everything for you, and was very 
 generous. 
 
 Enid Anstruther, tired as she is, sits meditating half an 
 hour before the fire that night. There is a tender look in her 
 eyes, though her thoughts are not altogether sad, and per- 
 haps Barnes has done a better day's work than even he 
 thinks he has. 
 
 As for that gentleman, he goes back toward the rail- 
 road station and takes a room at the Hotel de 1'Universe. 
 As he takes off his clothes he looks at the glass and 
 wonders if he is the same Mr. Barnes that he saw dress 
 in the morning. A fever is in his veins; he. has seen 
 strong men stricken down by the disease before. He 
 knows what is the matter with him; he has found the one 
 great passion of his life. But desperate as is the malady, he 
 would not be without it for the whole world. Thinking 
 this, he fishes his divinity's card out of his pocket that he may 
 do a little more worshipping, and for the first time reads her 
 name. 
 
 Enid Agnes Anstruther, Beechwood Towers, Hants , 
 England." The word Anstruther, as seen on paper, 
 seems strangely familiar to him. Have I ever met her 
 brother, he cogitates; and after a moment gives a prolonged 
 whistle of surprise, muttering By George! That would be 
 a wild go!" 
 
 And though he turns in, very shortly, and goes to sleep, 
 like a man of sense, he awakens with a fixed intent in his 
 mind, that is, to learn as soon as possible everything in re- 
 gard to Miss Anstruther's brother. 
 
MR. BARNES OF NEW YORK. 75 
 
 CHAPTER IX. 
 
 WILL GOD NEVER GIVE HIM TO ME? 
 
 . Miss ANSTRUTHER is aroused the next morning by the 
 French maid-servant who assists her to dress and makes 
 her comfortable with a cup of tea; and, when she steps 
 from the carriage at the Lyons Railway, finds Mr. Barnes 
 waiting to help her out. 
 
 " You're not to trouble yourself about anything from 
 here to Nice; I am your courier," he says in answer to 
 the grateful glance and bright " Good-morning " of the 
 girl. 
 
 He takes her to a compartment, tenderly wraps her 
 tip in a lot of railroad rugs that the guard brings warmed 
 from the waiting-room fire, and, with a slight air of 
 proprietorship that makes her blush a little, says: 
 "You're to go to sleep and not wake up till Avignon, at 
 eight; and then I've some good news for you ! " 
 
 " Good news ! Tell me now ! " 
 
 " And have you stay awake from happiness ? No good 
 news till eight ! " 
 
 The girl laughs a little and says, "Please?" pleadingly. 
 
 But Barnes checks her by, " If you don't go to sleep, 
 no good news till Marseilles, at eleven 1 " affecting great 
 firmness of manner. 
 
 At this, she falls to meditating on the curious fact that 
 though many men have bowed down to and worshiped 
 her before ; here is the first one who dominates her ; 
 then wonders how it is that she rather likes it, and so, 
 after a little, goes to sleep. 
 
 When she awakes it is daylight, and the sun is shining 
 brightly upon the waters of the Rhone, that flows towards 
 the sea beside them. She looks at Mr. Barnes who is 
 seated opposite, apparently deep in an English magazine, 
 and says with a little rebellious tnaue^ " Is it eight o'clock? 
 Can I awake now, tyrant 7" 
 
 " Not for five minutes ? " replies Barnes in attempted 
 sternness, " I'll live up to my title !" He knows that the 
 name she has called him gives more hope and promise 
 for the future, than if she had accepted the tenderest de- 
 votion from him as a slave. It is the first really familial 
 
7$ MR. BARNES OF NEW YORK 
 
 appellation she has given him, and it makes him desper- 
 ately happy. 
 
 A little while after he says, "We shall be in Avignon 
 soon : you look as if you had rest enough and so I'll 
 talk to you ! " 
 
 " Then tell me the good news ! ** 
 
 " The joyful tidings are, that you are no longer a young 
 lady without maid or baggage ! " 
 
 "My trunks! Here?" A little cry of joy, and Miss 
 Anstruther starts up radiant with excitement 
 
 " Yes ; Lady Chartris sent your maid and wardrobe by 
 the seven-twenty express." 
 
 As soon as they arrive at Avignon, Mr. Barnes brings 
 her servant, a red-cheeked, valuable dumpling of an 
 English girl, who looks with amazed eyes at this man 
 she has never seen before ; but, who confidently directs 
 her and evidently expects her to obey him. She has a 
 bag with her, that Miss Anstruther apparently thinks 
 valuable, as she gives it a most tender glance. 
 
 Barnes wisely leaves mistress and maid together, return- 
 ing, however, with coffee and rolls for both, as he has an 
 idea that servants have appetites as well as other 
 people. 
 
 This thoughtful attention makes the Abigail his slave, 
 at once ; she metaphorically goes down on her chubby 
 knees to him, worships at his shrine, and says to 
 her mistress, " Lawks ! Miss Enid, what a gentleman! 
 He's such a rusher. He came to me at Lyons this 
 morning and says, 'You're Miss Anstruther's maid?' 
 That I am,' says I. The next instant, he has me out 
 of that coach, and your luggage in front of me,, and says, 
 Get everything that your mistress will need on the 
 train to-day and put it in one bag!' and no more had I 
 done so, than he puts me back in my carriage again 
 and says, 'You'll not be wanted till eight o'clock, and 
 then be sharp ! ' He ordered things about as he might 
 nave been your your " 
 
 "Yes; all Americans are curious!" Miss Anstruther 
 cuts in. 
 
 " Ar'nt they ? " replies the maid, " and liberal too ; he 
 gave me a sovereign, and now he takes care of my vict- 
 uals, and manages for you just like he was agoing to be 
 your " 
 
MR. BARNES OF NEW YORK. 77 
 
 " Hush, Thompson ! " says her mistress very sharply, 
 " I sometimes let you take liberties with me, but nevef 
 with my friends ! " And having crushed her handmaid 
 with this remark, the young lady turns to the gentle- 
 man under discussion, as he places his head in the win- 
 dow and hands her a bunch of fresh rosebuds, dupli- 
 cates of the ones she had worn the day before. 
 
 u My favorites ! " laughs the girl; " how did you guess ? " 
 giving him a look of approval as he exclaims, " You may 
 wish to give some instructions to your maid, so I shall 
 hardly see you till Marseilles. I have telegraphed for 
 breakfast there. No more accidental starvation on your 
 part; if it happened again you would blame me for it, 
 now ! " 
 
 And he turns away towards the smoking car, to take 
 a day-dream behind a cigar. Here he sees, opposite to 
 him, the two men the girl had pointed out the evening 
 before. They, apparently, do not wish to attract his at- 
 tention; and at the first stoppage change their compart- 
 ment. Barnes gives little heed to them. Ke thinks, pos- 
 sibly, Miss Anstruther mistook their conversation; as they 
 look rather innocent bourgeois; at all events, he is with her, 
 and he'll back himself against the two men any time. 
 Thus they move down the beautiful Rhone among its 
 vineyard hills and olive plantations ; and then, crossing 
 the country, run into Marseilles. 
 
 On going to Miss Anstruther to take her to breakfast, 
 he finds that, by some inexplicable feminine process, 
 that young lady has got rid of all the general languor 
 and dilapidation, incidental to a long railway journey; 
 and, with the fresh rosebuds pinned on her bosom, is as 
 bright, fresh and dainty as when he first saw her in the 
 Salon the morning before. 
 
 He astonishes the maid by telling her she is to break- 
 fast with her mistress; for this is a case, in which he 
 feels the proprieties must be carefully preserved; and 
 very shortly has the pleasure of seating his divinity be- 
 fore as luxurious a meal, both in menu and attendance, 
 as she can well imagine. 
 
 They make a merry party of it, for the girl is in the 
 highest spirits; and Mr. Barnes, metaphorically is en- 
 joying nectar and ambrosia and has his pet goddess be* 
 side him. 
 
7* MR. BARNES OF NEW YORK. 
 
 But they are soon en route again; and, now that tht 
 young lady is thoroughly at ease mentally and physically, 
 the American thinking the time has arrived to get what 
 information he desires about her brother, turns the con- 
 versation towards her family. Miss Anstruther from be- 
 ing the Sphinx, of yesterday, is now a perfect oracle of 
 information as regards its past, present and future. 
 She tells him, with many little details of interest, that her 
 father and mother are both dead and she has two brothers 
 now living ! One, the youngest, a school-boy at Harrow; 
 the other, who is older than herself, a lieutenant in the 
 British navy, who only awaits his promotion to the rank 
 of commander, to resign from the service and come 
 to the family estates, to be an English country gentle- 
 man, as his ancestors have been before him, for many 
 a generation. 
 
 " When he became a sailor, of course, he was not the 
 heir; but Harold died years ago and Edwin reigns in his 
 stead. I have made up my mind just what his future is 
 to be," says the girl. 
 
 " Indeed ! Let us hope you have given him a happy 
 fate 
 
 " He is to marry some nice English girl of his own 
 rank and be the Squire of Beech wood ; and perhaps when 
 that horrid old destructionist Gladstone goes out of 
 power, represent our county in Parliament It was 
 honor enough for his father and it should be for 
 him: " 
 
 " Must the young lady be English ?" asks Barnes. 
 
 "Certainly! I don't like foreigm 
 
 " Do you class Americans as foreigners t" A tinge 
 of anxiety is in his voice. 
 
 " For marrying purposes, for my brother, yes ! I 
 want his wife to have no thought out of England, which 
 must be her home. " 
 
 "And for yourself, I suppose nothing but English 
 also?" 
 
 " Oh ! It I shall many the man I love whoever 
 he is ! " says Miss Anstruther, and she begins to play 
 with the flowers in her bosom then suddenly says, 
 " You Americans are a curious people ; do you always 
 travel without any luggage ? " 
 
 This is turning the conversation into the wrong 
 
MR BARNES OF NEW YORK, 79 
 
 channel for Barnes, who has not so much as a hand- 
 satchel with him, is even minus an overcoat, and has 
 been compelled this morning tc seek variety of toilet 
 by arranging his necktie in another manner, and cleanli- 
 ness by reversing his cuffs, 
 
 "No!" he says slowly, "I sometimes carry a cane on 
 long trips; but I was called to Nice suddenly ; telegram, 
 business important ! " 
 
 "Well, you do very nicely without luggage," says 
 Miss Anstruther, "so forgive my impertinent question!** 
 After this she goes back to her brother again, sings his 
 praises; how he was wounded in Egypt and was nursed 
 in the hospital by a beautiful Italian girl, and, when he 
 got well, wrote some wild romantic letters about her 
 that frightened her for fear he would return with a 
 foreign bride. Then tells what a coming home his will be. 
 How Beechwood Towers, their country-seat, will make 
 it a gala day, " And so will dear old Hampshire itself! * 
 says the girl, her face glowing with the thought, " for 
 the county loves our family, and is proud of Edwin too; 
 he won the Victoria Cross in Egypt" 
 
 " Has he served on many ships ?" suggests Barnes. 
 
 "Oh, yes! oceans of them; the Monarch, the Topaz, 
 Ihe Cleopatra, but now Gerard is upon the Sealark ! " 
 
 " Gerard ? " Barnes is much interested. 
 
 " Yes, I sometimes call him by his second name. My 
 Brother is Edwin Gerard Anstruther, V. C., and we are 
 all very proud of him and love him very much, and so will 
 you when you know hiro, which 1 hope will be this 
 evening." 
 
 " Was he ever on the Vulture ?" asks the American. 
 
 No I think not." 
 
 Here the maid, whom they have both forgotten, puts 
 in her word and says, " Asking your pardon, Miss Enid, 
 I once carried a letter up to your roc m with * Vulture ' 
 or * Heagle ' printed on the henvelope." 
 
 " Oh ! of course ! Much obliged, Tompson," contin- 
 ues Miss Anstruther. " He went out to join his ship, 
 which was in Egypt, as a passenger, by the Vulture. He 
 wrote me twice on board her; from Malta, and from' 
 what's that little place where the people kill each 
 and Bonaparte was born ? " 
 
 44 Ajaccio ! " 
 
8 MR. BARNES OF NEW YORK 
 
 "That's the name!" 
 
 "I should like to see your brother this evening; i 
 rather think we have met before," says Barnes seri- 
 ously. 
 
 " I'm glad of that ' " The girl's eyes show that she 
 means what she says, and Barnes goes into a brown 
 study, for he knows the name on the ship's pistol is that 
 of Miss Anstruther's brother, and that he must be told 
 some unpleasant and unexpected news that evening, and 
 given a decided caution. " In fact," thinks Barnes, "the 
 sooner Edwin gets out of this part of the world, the bet- 
 ter. I hardly imagine the 1'cnJctta would flourish in 
 matter-of-fact England. I admire Marina, but don't 
 want any Corsican nonsense, and in affairs of this kind 
 a chap must stand by his family ! " With this he glances 
 at the beauty opposite to him, as if he owned her, ;nul 
 imagines how the fellows in New York will envy him ; 
 thinks he will again see if Enid will recognize him as the 
 Barnes of the picture, and attempts to assume the 
 attitude of horror and the look of sympathy of the 
 canvas. 
 
 This has an unexpected effect on the two women. 
 Mi>s Anstruther seems to choke in an endeavor to re- 
 strain her laughter, while the maid in an anxious voice 
 exclaims, " Mercy, sir, are you very ill ?" 
 
 "No?" says Barnes sulkily, "but it's hot and my 
 my collar is tight ! " 
 
 "Oh, is that all?" replies the young lady. "You 
 looked in such agony, I feared it was tight boots ! " She 
 gives a little laugh, and Barnes thinks himself a romantic 
 fool. 
 
 Seeing his best game is himself and not his picture, 
 (which he concludes must be "a cursed bad likem 
 the young man devotes himself to making the day 
 pleasantly, and succeeds. Every want of his charge is 
 provided for, in advance, with the forethought of experi- 
 ence, and the power of a long purse ; and when the pl- 
 ant railway journey across southern France, with its 
 orange groves here and there, fleeting views of the Medi 
 terranean, and glimpses of tropical vegetation that make 
 it so picturesque, is finished, and the girl stands on the 
 platform of the station at Nice, tears of gratitude are in 
 her eyes and a blush is on her face, as she says, eagerly 
 
MR. BARNES OF NEW YORK. $g 
 
 extending her hand, " You have been awfully kind ; you 
 have changed what would have been a terrible journey, 
 for me, into the most delightful trip I've ever had ; every 
 dilemma, every disaster, in your hands, became a pleas- 
 ure to me !" 
 
 " Even the loss of your dinner !" laughs Barnes, seizing 
 her hand and giving it a tender pressure ; and then 
 blushing himself, for he imagines, it is returned very 
 slightly. 
 
 " Yes, even the loss of my dinner. Do you know I 
 once guessed that you had something to do with that 
 guard's stupidity?" 
 
 "Great goodness, why did you imagine that?" 
 
 " Because you looked so pleased when I had only two 
 gumdrops to eat," says Miss Anstruther as he puts her 
 and her maid into a cab and tells the driver Hotel des 
 Anglais ! for that's where his divinity is to stay. 
 
 After he has seen the last of her, he goes to the Hotel 
 de la Mediterranee in a melancholy way ; for, with her de- 
 parture, he feels as if something had gone out of his life, 
 is lonely and depressed and has his first fit of amatory 
 blues, a peculiar disease that makes him curse the waiter 
 for he thinks his dinner is bad when it is only that 
 Enid Anstruther is not beside him, eating it also. 
 
 About eight o'clock, he meditates : " She said she wished 
 me to meet her brother this evening ; strange she does 
 not send for me. She can hardly expect me to intrude 
 upon her when it is their first evening together for two 
 years : but of course she'll think of nothing but him to- 
 night." He jumps up and strolls past the Hotel des An- 
 glais into the public gardens, hoping to catch a glimpse 
 of his goddess at some window. Not succeeding in this 
 he begins to get jealous of her brother for keeping her 
 from him ; and, working himself up into a dangerous 
 temper, looks about for somebody to vent it upon ; and to 
 his joy, finds one to his hand. 
 
 Barnes has just turned back in the gardens, after many 
 fruitless glances at the windows of the des Anglais. As 
 he does this rather suddenly, it brings him face to face 
 with one of the men Miss Anstruther pointed out as fol- 
 lowing her. This person is now apparently dogging his 
 footsteps. His temper breaks out in a moment : striding 
 Up to the offender he hisses under his breath : " You 
 
at MR. BARNES OP NEW YORK. 
 
 miserable snake!" and, before the man knows what is to 
 happen to him, he finds himself knocked out of tkne and 
 flung aside off the walk into a thicket of rose-bushes that 
 seem to him all thorns and no flowers. In a moment, 
 the Frenchman struggles from them, and after several 
 deep curses between his clenched teeth, mutters : "You 
 miserable Anglais, there are others who will avenge me 
 your days are numbered !" 
 
 This is unheard by Barnes, who, feeling he has made 
 a fool of himself, doesn't wait for explanations but con- 
 tinues his walk to his hotel, where he goes to bed in a 
 very glum sort of way. A bad ending to a very pleas- 
 ant day, but such are the ups and downs of passion. 
 
 The next morning, however, hope and confidence have 
 returned to him. After dressing as elaborately as he can 
 on one suit of clothes, making variety of costume by a 
 new necktie and fresh linen he had purchased the even* 
 ing before, he wanders out to the Hotel des Anglais and 
 breakfasts there, hoping in some way to get a glimpse of 
 the face for which he now hungers ; but is disappointed 
 and goes to smoke his cigar in the gardens, taking a 
 position that commands the hotel. At one time he thinks 
 he sees her at a window, but soon discovers he has been 
 complimenting a chambermaid by mistaking her for his 
 enchantress. This has scarcely happened when even 
 Miss Anstruther is knocked out of his head by what 
 comes to him through some neighboring shrubbery. 
 
 " Then we have found him at last ! " says a feminine 
 voice, that in its intense passion takes him back to the 
 death scene at Ajaccio. 
 
 " Undoubtedly, Mademoiselle, he was greatly agitated 
 at the picture; he followed an English girl here; I heard 
 them speak of the navy. These marks on my face prove 
 him to be of that brutal nation ! " This last comes from 
 a man. 
 
 * Yes," says the female voice again, "he struck my 
 brother, in the same cruel manner; his blow was on An- 
 tonio's face when he died. You will point him out to 
 Tomasso and me on the promenade des Anglais to-day. 
 His hotel, you say, is La Mediterranee. What is nil 
 name ? " 
 
 41 He refused to give it to us in Paris at the Salon. Last 
 aight I would have looked at the hc-tel register ; but 
 
MR. BARNES OF NEW YORK. 8$ 
 
 after he assaulted me I knew he was on his guard, and 
 very dangerous, and so I did not dare to ask." 
 
 44 Then meet me at two o'clock; if your report is true, 
 I will make you rich ! " says the lady. 
 
 The man walks away and has hardly passed out of 
 sight, when Barnes, turning the corner of the shrubbery, 
 finds himself in the presence of a young girl who is 
 dressed in deep black, and who raises her head and gives 
 a little cry as she sees him. Old Tomasso is standing a 
 short distance behind with a look of longing joy in his 
 expressive old face. 
 
 " Mademoiselle Paoli," says the American, raising his 
 hat, " I am very happy to see you in Nice !" 
 
 The girl seems staggered with surprise for a moment ; 
 but finally articulates, " It is Mr. Barnes, is it not ? I 
 am very glad to see you you were kind to him. To- 
 masso, this is the good gentleman who tried to save my 
 brother you remember ! " 
 
 The old Corsican only nods his head, but his gaze is 
 kindly. 
 
 " You have not been here long ? " suggests Barnes. 
 
 " No ! only this morning." 
 
 "And come ?" 
 
 14 For pleasure ! To-day is the first time for a year that 
 I am happy ! " cries the girl with a peculiar laugh. 
 
 44 1 never like to spoil sport," echoes Barnes in grim 
 humor, " but I am afraid you will be disappointed ! I can 
 tell you the man who will be pointed out to you as the 
 slayer of your brother ! " 
 
 44 Ah who ? " Marina is a picture of joy. 
 
 "It will be me!" 
 
 "You ! " she gasps, "You ! They have been following 
 you ? Will God never give him to me ! " 
 
 Tomasso has not spoken till now, but he mutters, 
 44 Some day ! and then ! " here the old man's counte- 
 nance takes an expression that makes the American 
 think of the man-eating tiger of India, whose face is the 
 incarnation of the desire to kill. He turns to Marina 
 and says, " I have something to say to you from your 
 brother, a message from the dead ; when can I deliver 
 it?" 
 
 The girl looks at him with a white face and answers, 
 " To-day at any time Hotel Sebastian ! " 
 
84 MR. BARNES OF NEW YORK. 
 
 And as Mr. Barnes leaves her, she puts her head be- 
 tween her hands and sobs bitter tears of disappointment, 
 the old Corsican trying to comfort her in vain. 
 
 CHAPTER X. 
 
 THE ANGEL OF THE EGYPTIAN HOSPITAL. 
 
 THE Hotel Sebastian is on one of the out-of-the-way 
 streets of Nice and far from the fashionable quarter. It 
 is little more than a boarding-house, though it has a dingy 
 office and small billiard room with dirty tables and 
 worn-put cushions. A mixture of Italians, Spaniards, 
 and Sicilians patronize the house ; English or Americans 
 are never seen there. To this place nes goes 
 
 early in the afternoon and sends his card by a slovenly 
 Italian servant-girl to Mademoiselle Paoli. As he is 
 about to go up, Count Musso Danella comes hurriedly 
 down stairs, and taking him by the arm says, " My dear 
 ics ! " and shakes his hand. " Old comrade, it seems 
 long since we shot moufflon together in Corsica ! " 
 
 This is rather effusive and affectionate for Danella, 
 who is generally self-contained and contemplative in his 
 manner, and is a surprise for the American, who rejoins, 
 " Hello, Musso ! old boy ! you here ? Thought you 
 wouldn't be far off when I saw Mademoiselle Paoli this 
 morning !" 
 
 In truth he is surprised very much to see the girl's 
 guardian here ; for, he knows Danella, though a Corsi- 
 can, is a man of the world, and hardly imagines he will 
 permit Marina to run about France with a romantic idea 
 of revenge and murder in her brain that may some day 
 bring her fair young neck, that he knows is very dear to 
 Musso, dangerously near the guillotine. 
 
 " Yes," says the Count growing serious and drawing 
 him into a room that is evidently his own, as he locks the 
 door and offers Barnes a chair, " /brought Marina here ? " 
 
 - What ! and knew her errand ? " 
 
 "That she was in pursuit of the man who killed her 
 brother with the purpose of murdering him ! " 
 
IOL BAftjrzs or KEW YORK. 85 
 
 a Precisely,'* says Masso, who stems to hare grown 
 younger in the tone since Barnes saw him an expect- 
 ant happiness being on his face that smoothes out sev- 
 eral wrinkles that hf* KIT bachelorhood in Paris **** 
 brought him with his forty years of fife. 
 
 "And you are a sane man and permit die girl, whose 
 only counsellor yon are, to throw away her glorious 
 beauty and her young life on a c hirer ra. of vcng 
 
 that might be accounted romantic in the age of the 
 Borgias, but to-day means the executioner or the 
 jailor and yet you pretend to love hr . 
 
 face has a rather disagreeable sneer upou it which 
 changes to a look of a*a*f horror as DaneOa's reply 
 to him, and his mind grasps hs cruel : ~ 
 
 -It is because I loie her that I aid her! At first I 
 merely prctouUd to assist her to find the man who had 
 
 and would pass away from her like a fooush fancy 
 
 Soon, \ ojscovereQ wsw mistake, that her 
 
 resolve <too steadfastness vFas that of a woman who bad 
 * a righteous TTyjrjifMT the gut ex mug motive of her 
 After a time I saw she began to doubt the 
 sincerity of my Mihtancr, and hated and detested my 
 God! me! the man who loved brr! She ran away 
 to Egypt without me, and if I had not followed her, 
 might have forgotten her oath and me I" the Count looks 
 
 rent that. And then I made a compact with her that 
 when I found, for her, the man she sought, and hate 
 was satisfied, that love should begin and she should 
 
 , ,ti__ U^^i - A 1 _, ,,m -tnrm 99 
 
 iiuiiy me, wno naa gitcu to ner vengeance. 
 
 M And she owwnfcd to sefl basetf for your assist- 
 
 -Not at first," says the Count with suppressed s^jh. 
 after a straggle she said yes! She does not 
 
 can love no man now but when she 
 has no longer her oath upon her, then she win torn to 
 the one being who loves her wefl enough to take her 
 twitha murder on her soul,"* and his delicate face 
 fffmif*^ Ifiigfrt with a dream of futuie passion. 
 ** But yon forget this is die nineteenth leiiiury; and 
 rwill have a prior daimupooyoar bride; in 
 
86 MR. BARNES OF NEW YORK. 
 
 fact, you, yourself, Danella, as accessory before the fact, 
 will stand a very good chance of a rather long imprison, 
 ment; and, with your luxurious habits, I shouldn't think 
 convict life would be a very pleasant prospect." Barnes 
 imagines he has knocked the Count's plans into chaos. 
 
 "Bah ! " says the latter, " In England, yes ! But in 
 that case, I should contrive that Old Tomasso, who 
 hates, with all a Corsican's fervor, should do the active 
 work in the matter. But if we find him in France No ! 
 No French jury would ever, under these romantic cir- 
 cumstances, convict a girl of Marina's beauty of murder. 
 At the worst, she would not be imprisoned more 
 than a year or so. The press would most likely make her 
 a martyr; and the public, her cell a bower of roses. 
 But if we can lure him to Corsica and kill him there, 
 Marina Paoli will be blessed by a native jury as the 
 guardian angel of her brother's tomb." 
 
 Barnes casts a mental eye over the latest French crim- 
 inal jurisprudence, and concludes the Count has very 
 good reasons for his statements; then quietly remarks, 
 " I should judge your victim had better remain in Eng- 
 land 
 
 He will be safer there but the world is small !" 
 says the Count. 
 
 " And now," replies Barnes, " how is it you dare to 
 make me a party to your crime by telling me your plan ?" 
 
 " Because you told her," here the Count indicates 
 Marina by a gesture of his hand, "that you had a mes- 
 sage from the dead to deliver to her. It is to ask you 
 if it tends to turn her from her purpose not to give it. 
 You are my friend my whole soul has but one desire to 
 gain her ; and my only hope of winning Marina Paoli is 
 through her longing for revenge." 
 
 After a pause of contemplation Mr. Barnes says 
 calmly, " I shall report this matter to the authorities and 
 so prevent your mad plan bringing danger to the English 
 officer ! " 
 
 " I considered that matter very carefully before I spoke 
 to you, and do not think you will ! " remarks the Count 
 confidently. 
 
 "And you suppose that I will be an accessory to your 
 crime ?" 
 
 " Not at all, in a strictly legal sense." is the reply 
 
MR. BARNES OF NEW YORK. 87 
 
 " but at present, at least, you will say nothing. You are 
 in love with an English girl Miss Anstruther very 
 much in love. You need not start so you adore her, 
 my dear boy ! You have followed her to Nice. She was 
 alone all one night on the railway, and at Lyons you 
 confessed to the guard you were Jpris with her ; per- 
 suadad her to lay over at Lyons, and took her in person 
 to the Hotel de TEurope." 
 
 " What do you mean ? " says Barnes in a hoarse voice, 
 and with a very dangerous look on his face, for within 
 him is the passion of Cain. 
 
 " Nothing derogatory to the young lady's character, 
 for which I have the highest esteem ; but I want you to 
 have the same consideration for it ; and if you should 
 make any declarations to the authorities in regard to 
 Marina or myself, the private detectives that we employ 
 and who dogged every step of your way from Paris to 
 Nice, must go on the stand. Their evidence could hardly 
 be pleasant to Miss Anstruther. There is nothing you 
 Anglo-Saxon Puritans fear so much as scandal; and one 
 would lose her to you forever; therefore I am persuaded 
 you will say nothing, my dear friend." 
 
 Barnes thinks this over and knows that the Count is 
 right. " Nevertheless," he says, u I shall speak to Mad- 
 emoiselle Paoli." 
 
 " Certainly, if you insist," returns Musso with a gra- 
 cious bow, unlocking the door. " Nothing you can tell 
 her, I am confident, will ever change Marina from her 
 purpose," and he laughs a little silvery laugh that is not 
 becoming in him, and calls out after the American, " Au 
 rcvoir, old comrade ; run over and have a game of Bac- 
 carat this evening." 
 
 " I have other business, thank you," says Barnes. 
 
 " Ah, I see ! Love's young dream ! third door to the 
 right, first floor !" follows him in Danella's soft Franco- 
 Italian yoice, as he goes up-stairs to meet Marina. 
 
 The Count steps back to his room in great apparent 
 good-humor, and looks at a memorandum from the de- 
 tectives who have followed Barnes. He reads it over 
 and wonders what that gentleman and the young English 
 girl had to interest them in the English navy. Meditat- 
 ing upon this, he remembers that Miss Anstruther herself 
 had been curiously impressed by the picture of the duel; 
 
88 MR. BARNES OF NEW YORK. 
 
 and after turning the matter over in his mind, he goes 
 out for a walk; and, chancing to wander down to the har- 
 bor and the Hotel des Anglais, asks some rather pertinent 
 questions, and obtains some interesting information 
 which sets him to thinking deeply ; and in the end pro- 
 duces peculiar results, for Musso Danella reasons on the 
 Italian principles of Machiavelli, which are derived direct 
 from Satan himself. 
 
 Barnes takes the Count's advice, as regards directions; 
 and the door is opened for him by Marina herself. She 
 is still in deep black; in fact she never wore anything but 
 mourning, from the day of her brother's death until some 
 time after this the great change came into her mind. 
 Her figure, that the close-fitting dress displays in a series 
 of curves of beauty, is perhaps a little fuller and more 
 rounded than a year ago. If so, it has lost no charm of 
 grace or suppleness. Her face has a tinge of suppressed 
 sadness upon its mobile features, save when some wave 
 of varying passion sweeps across it, and then it is the 
 impersonation of that passion itself, without a trace of 
 any other to weaken its intensity. 
 
 As Barnes confronts her he notices the superb vigor 
 of her manner and excitable changes of her emotion. 
 
 " Ah ! " she cries, "at last ! I have waited for you ! you 
 have for me the last words of my brother No ! / have 
 his last his cry of welcome to me Marina ! that was 
 all for me that was his adieu to earth, was it not ? " 
 The question at the end is asked in pathetic sadness in 
 complete contrast to the excited rapidity of her first ex- 
 clamations. 
 
 44 It was ! " replies Barnes softly. 
 
 "But his other words, the message from the dead 
 and you did not tell it to me before long ago you 
 could let a sister wait ? " 
 
 "When I left Corsica, Mademoiselle, you were deliri- 
 ous from brain fever and would not have understood 
 me." 
 
 " True ! " the girl says slowly and then suddenly, 
 44 Forgive me. The cruel disappointment of to-day has 
 made me thoughtless ; but to have sought that assassin, 
 for one long year, day by day and night by night over 
 half the world and never found him and this morning 
 when I was blessing God for_ having given him to my hand 
 
MR. BARNES OF NEW YORK. 89 
 
 to again find nothing nothing ! NOTHING ! ! " 
 In an ecstacy of disappointment the girl throws herself 
 upon a chair, and after a moment makes an effort and 
 says to Barnes, who has been watching her in silence, 
 " You cannot understand ; you are of a race that thinks 
 and does not feel ; be thankful that Heaven has blessed 
 you with no heart, only a brain ! " 
 
 " But you have not heard the message I bring. It may 
 temper your disappointment ! " 
 
 " Then don't give it to me now ! It is what I feared ! 
 I forbid you to say it now ! First see what I have done 
 How faithfully I have struggled to perform my oath 
 How I have labored to find the man upon whom my 
 hand shall fall then if you think that even Antonio's 
 words could change the consecration of my life, deliver 
 my brother's message ! " This last she speaks as if in- 
 spired, but not from God ; and, as Barnes does not 
 answer her, brings him a large book of memoranda com- 
 piled with the system and accuracy of a detective, show- 
 ing, that with all its hate, her pursuit has been carried 
 out with a logic that indicates some subtle mind has been 
 brought to bear upon the matter. Barnes concludes 
 wisely that it is that of Musso Danella. He is delighted 
 to have the opportunity of studying her investigations, 
 as it may help him to judge if Enid's brother is in imme- 
 diate danger of discovery. The first document before 
 him is, 
 
 LIST OF OFFICERS. 
 H. M. S. VULTURE, 1882. 
 
 John Lenox Ward, Commander. 
 Henry Lawson, ] 
 
 T. Edgerton Reede, 
 
 Walter Montrose Phillips, \ Lieutenants. 
 
 Nelson Trowbridge, 
 The Hon. Mathew Lennox Haye, J 
 George Hodspur, Navigating Lieutenant. 
 Thomas F. Fearing, Chief Engineer. 
 Mortimer N. Douglas, Paymaster. 
 Wellington Elenwood, Surgeon. 
 Arthur William Herrick, Assistant Engineer. 
 
 And then follow the naies of about eight midship* 
 men, junior engineers, etc. 
 
90 MR. BARNES OF NEW YORK. 
 
 "That list was obtained from the office of the British 
 Admiralty," says the girl, "and is absolutely accurate, 
 like other official statistics.*' 
 
 Barnes notes here to himself that Edwin Anstruther 
 joined the Vulture at Gibraltar as a supernumerary, con- 
 sequently his name does not appear on the list sent from 
 England, and now knows how Marina has failed to dis 
 cover him. 
 
 The next thing that meets his eye startles him. It is 
 an elaborate description of each officer on the list, with 
 his photograph attached. 
 
 " How did you get these ? " cries the American, in 
 surprise. 
 
 " Time and money did it but what use ?" says the girl 
 sadly. "Any being of reason would say it must be one 
 of these men whose faces I look on in this book ; gaze 
 upon them with me ; you saw his face that fatal day, and 
 know it is not one of those who is the murderer that I 
 seek 
 
 " How do you know that ? " 
 
 " How ? I have seen every man on this list, but that 
 engineer who was suddenly ordered to China ; this one, 
 who is on the Gold Coast of Africa, and Reede who was 
 detached to the Ruby in the South Pacific, I have talked 
 with them as I have with you to-day, and they all said 
 that they were too busy with official duties for any of them 
 to get leave the day the Vulture left Ajaccio. And then 
 I went to the captain, a close-mouthed Scotchman, who 
 promptly told me that no officer of his left his ship that 
 day 'Catch me giving leave on the morning of sailing 
 not to a royal prince, by Heaven ! Madam !' and then 
 I knew that there was some conspiracy among them, even 
 including the captain, to keep the matter secret for 
 they feared a court-martial for their comrade. Had it 
 been in the French navy I could have discovered, because 
 a duel would have brought no punishment ; but with 
 these men who cling together and always fight shoulder 
 to shoulder, I could do nothing." 
 
 " And so you despaired ! " 
 
 " Despaired ? You would not say that if you knew me. 
 I took another way the Hospitals ! When men are sick 
 and wounded, in that hot Egyptian climate, they some- 
 times rave, and in delirium there is often truth. 1 haw 
 
MR. BARNES OF NEW YORK. 91 
 
 been by the bedside of some of them, and one died in my 
 arms and yet gave no sign ! " 
 
 Barnes is staring at her ; in his mind is a vision of the 
 seventeenth century and de Brinvilliers. 
 
 But the girl continues, " Though I couldn't find the 
 man whose life I wanted, I found lives to save, and 
 nursed the poor victims of the war and fever, and did 
 some little good for they said I was gentle, and called 
 me ' the Angel of the Hospital !' and one, a sunny-haired 
 Saxon giant, whose pale face was kind as a child's, and 
 who, they told me, was brave as he was gentle for he 
 had a cross upon his heart the one so many of them die 
 to gain. When they brought him in wounded I I said 
 4 He shall go back to his English home ; perhaps he has a 
 sister like my poor brother had, who is waiting for him in 
 that far-off land ;' and I they said I saved his life and 
 he he used to call me his his " 
 
 Barnes, whose eyes have been upon the floor, raises 
 them and sees before him, instead of an angel of ven- 
 geance, an angel of pity, and, perhaps, of love ; for the girl 
 has now a blush upon her face. 
 
 She concludes after a moment's pause of emotion, with 
 a little effort " He called me his Princess of Mercy 
 and used, after he was stronger, to walk with me in the 
 moonlight in the Khedive's gardens, and tell me he owed 
 to my kind hands his life. And when he was well he 
 grew to look like a god Edwin " 
 
 " Edwin !" cries Barnes. 
 
 " Yes, Edwin Gerard An the last is a curious English 
 name difficult for a southern tongue to pronounce but I 
 have his card." And she produces for him the name of 
 Enid's brother, and cries, " You know him too ? Is he 
 not glorious !" for she notices some sign upon Barnes' 
 face, that makes her think this. 
 
 " No, I have only met his sister." 
 
 "Yes, she is beautiful, like him I saw her, too, in 
 Paris before my picture you love her, don't you ? " and 
 Marina looks curiously at him. 
 
 To this Barnes makes no reply, but changes the sub- 
 ject back to the original one, saying, "And afterwards ? " 
 
 " Afterwards ? Count Danella took me away from 
 Egypt almost by force; he said the climate was killing 
 me. And then I painted the duel it was a work of love 
 
92 MR. BARNES OF N\v 
 
 and a work of hate. I thought perhaps some one in the 
 vast multitudes that throng the Paris Salon might give 
 some sign before it, and by that 1 might discover. A 
 private detective stood, night and day, near by, but all 
 that it has brought me was the pursuit of you " 
 
 " And after all this ? " 
 
 1 should have gone to China to see the lieutenant 
 who is there but lately the Count has received some 
 curious information from Gibraltar that makes us think 
 there were other officers on board the Vulture whose 
 names are not upon that list Oh, I pray Heaven that he 
 may not have died before I reach him ! I want him to 
 know that Antonio Paoli has a sister ! " The girl is now 
 once more a picture of intense hate. 
 
 Barnes who has been studying Marina's face and pon- 
 dering how to bring her brother's words home to her, 
 here says, " When you were thinking of your noble work 
 in the Egyptian hospitals, I should have given you the 
 message from the dead." Then he tells her earnestly 
 but quietly the story of how her brother died in his 
 arms, and that his last solemn words to him were, " I had 
 sooner my sister forgot me, than that the memory of my 
 death destroyed her life," and asks her, if she, with all 
 her talent, and all her beauty and goodness, has no better 
 ^ork in life then seeking that of another. 
 
 The girl answers him calmly, " I have thought of that 
 so often, but lam a Corsican. Old Tomasso would despise 
 me, and I could not look my neighbors in the face in my 
 dear old Island for they know my dead brother w^s 
 murdered. You talk to me just asde Belloc did." 
 
 " Ah, you have asked him ? " 
 
 " Of course ! I took all these /ictures to him and 
 begged him to point out the guilty man." 
 
 " And he ? " continued Barnes, for Marina has paused 
 and is beating the floor with her foot in petulant passion. 
 
 " He ! " cries the girl, " He ! the pretended friend of 
 Antonio, refused to even look at them to aid my ven- 
 geance ! He said the duel was as fair a one as ever 
 fought, and the young English officer was a gentle- 
 man of great honor and bravery ! " 
 
 " So it seemed to me also ! " 
 
 "Ah! you agree with him! Fair? Brave? when 
 Ihe man who killed my brother wore armor 1" 
 
MR. BARNES OF NEW YORK. 93 
 
 I 
 
 "Who told you that?" gasps Barnes. 
 
 "Mateo, the innkeeper. The man was shot in the 
 side and would have died like his victim, but for his 
 cowardly protection." 
 
 Barnes here explains to her the incident of the lucky 
 penny, telling her she painted it in her picture. 
 
 Upon this the girl interrupts him with a cruel little 
 laugh, and says, " I had no idea my painting was so 
 bad ; I meant it to represent a scale of armor broken 
 off by the bullet." 
 
 " Then you will not forget ? " 
 
 " Not while I have these to remember him by ! " and 
 Marina points to a portrait of her brother that hangs 
 upon the wall, then brings the American the broken pistol 
 and gasps, " It is stained with his blood ! " and taking 
 from her bosom a little leaden ball that hangs about her 
 white neck, cries, her lips trembling with sorrow, " The 
 bullet that killed my dear brother ! By this I will re- 
 member my oath ! " 
 
 " You are young yet," replies Barnes sadly. " Some 
 day you'll know it is happier to love than to hate ! " 
 
 But she answers, rising as if to end discussion, "While 
 I live I shall know but one passion, and that is hate! 
 Until this is finished, not if all the men upon the earth 
 asked me, would I know love ! " 
 
 " Not if, in the gardens of the Khedive, Edwin Ans- 
 truther asked you ? " 
 
 Marina starts and staggers, as if he had struck her, a 
 great wave of blood rushes over her face and then leaves 
 it deadly pale with misery, and sinking down she utters 
 a cry of agonized longing. 
 
 And thus Barnes leaves her, his own phlegmatic nerves 
 a little shaken, for he has had more surprises than he 
 cares for this day; and meditates in a startled, dazed sort 
 of way : " Great Heavens ! If those two meet ; and she 
 ever know ! " 
 
MR. BARNES Of NEW YORK. 
 04 
 
 CHAPTER XL 
 
 THE OTHER ONE. 
 
 AFTER using three matches to light his cigar, In 
 monotonous, listless sort of manner, Mr. Barnes takes his 
 way towards his hotel, turning over in his mind the vari- 
 ous possibilities pertaining to Enid's brother, and decides 
 that that young officer must leave Nice. They couldn't 
 fail to come together if Edwin staid here, he meditates. 
 Marina would be sure to discover him sooner or later. 
 Though I could prevent his being assassinated, I have 
 no doubt, still it would make a very disagreeable com* 
 plication. Altogether, if he's the man I think he is, I 
 must ship him off to-night. As he begins to plan the 
 details of the affair, he finds himself in front of unpleas- 
 ant duties at every point. I shall have to disclose to 
 the chap that he has taken a man's life and that from now 
 on he must look to his own as carefully as the Czar of 
 Russia guards his precious imperial welfare. And then, 
 how much shall I disclose to Edwin ? I can't tell him his 
 angel of mercy will kill him on sight ; he wouldn't believe 
 me if I did. Then if by any chance he should love 
 Marina" here Mr. Barnes emits a prolonged whistle 
 and turns the problem over again in his mind, and, 
 having by this time entered the Promenade des Anglais, 
 which is now full of foreign visitors that have not as yet 
 fled from this winter city, he suddenly finds his medita- 
 tion ended and his problem solved in the pleasanteu 
 manner imaginable. 
 
 A victoria is coming towards him In the street ; in it, 
 a young lady of radiant beauty, in the freshest of white 
 summer dresses, colored by a corsage bouquet of blush 
 rosebuds and a sash of shimmering satin of the same deli* 
 cate tint ; making a vision whose loveliness attracts every 
 masculine eye on the promenade, except that of the 
 American, who is in deep brown study. Beside her, sits 
 a plain, round-faced girl, with a long, lankey form ; big 
 enough to be sixteen and dressed short enough to be 
 eleven. This child is a mass of gaudy coloring, from her 
 bronze boots and cardinal stockings, to her blue hat and 
 ^J feather ; the parts coming between, being clothed 10 
 
MR. BARNES OF NEW YORK. 9$ 
 
 a bright yellow dress and purple sash. As Barnes comes 
 near the carriage, the young lady makes a sudden sign 
 to the coachman, the horses are pulled up, and a soft 
 voice says in playful piteousness, " Are you not going to 
 speak to me?" 
 
 The gentleman addressed, who has a gloomy scowl 
 upon his countenance and is at that moment meditating 
 that he has not seen Enid Anstruther for a whole day, 
 and that twenty-four hours is a little eternity, awakes 
 from his apathy with a start ; the frown upon his face 
 becomes sunshine ; he takes off his hat and answers, 
 " Speak to you? of course ! So long as I'm out of the 
 deaf and dumb asylum ! " Then seeing that Miss 
 Anstruther has a hand held towards him, seizes it. 
 
 His speech makes the gawky girl laugh and say, " Why 
 you're funny, ar'nt you ? You're the celebrated Mr. Barnes 
 of New York ! " " And you, I presume, are the equally 
 illustrious Miss Maud Chartris?" 
 
 "Yes, I'm the little girl," here she grins, "that you're 
 going to give candy enough to, to kill her Enid told 
 me ! She's been looking all over for you ; haven't you, 
 Enid?" 
 
 This brings a wonderful color to Miss Anstruther's 
 face, which Barnes thinks is very becoming. He watches 
 to see how she will parry the innocent's candor, which 
 she does, by saying promptly in a very matter-of-fact 
 way, "Yes, I have been looking for you ; there is a note 
 from me at your hotel," and then with a sudden asperity 
 of manner she turns on the offender at her side and dis- 
 charges, " Maud, if you don't stop sucking the end of 
 your parasol, Mr. Barnes will forget he promised you the 
 candy ! " 
 
 " He dars'nt ! " returns the Maud, with a grin of con- 
 scious power. " The other one tried to slip out of giving 
 me a bonbonnttre, he said I should have, and you know 
 how I fixed him." 
 
 " The other one/* jars on Barnes, as well as on Miss 
 Anstruther, who has become intensely interested in the 
 coachman in front of her. 
 
 " How did you fix him?" mutters he, savagely. 
 
 I I got him to ask " 
 
 Here his divinity's face becomes so distressed, that 
 Barnes cuts Maud short by saving, " You run into that 
 
96 MR. BARNES OF NXW YORK. 
 
 candy store, half a square down the street, and buy \\ 
 you want and I'll come in and pay for it 1 " A rush and 
 Maud is gone ; she waits no second invitation. 
 
 " What did you make that rash offer for ? " says Miss 
 Anstruther innocently. 
 
 a Because I wanted to relieve you of the innocent's can 
 dor," says Mr. Barnes, lying glibly, with a laugh. 
 
 " I'm rather afraid your diplomacy will cost you dear; 
 YOU have no idea of her capacity for bonbons; but 
 have made her your friend; and she is a vindictive and 
 aggressive enemy. Now why didn't you call upon me 
 last evening? I was quite lonely ! " 
 
 "Lonely, with your brother here?" rojoins the 
 American. 
 
 " My brother had but half an hour with me. His ship 
 was suddenly ordered to Gibraltar and sailed at sunset 
 yesterday/' 
 
 Barnes gives a sigh of relief ; his problem is solved. 
 Edwin Anstruther is out of Nice f so there can be no 
 trouble for the present. While he is thinking ti 
 continues, " I could not ask you to call last night be- 
 cause 1 was alone, though had you come in I should 
 
 pardoned your intrusion ; but now Lady Cham 
 here, and protected by her matron wings, I shall be 
 happy to receive you at any time this evening, I 
 hope Oh ! what a greedy girl ! " This last is ad- 
 dressed to Miss Chartris, who comes to the carriage 
 followed by the shopman, who is laden down with numer- 
 ous packages of sweets of every kind ; and is proportion- 
 ately polite and cringing. 
 
 "The reason I took so much, was because I've a 
 hungry brother and sister ; the reason I took so little, is 
 because it gets stale. Thank you till next time, Mr 
 Barnes of New York." 
 
 " Don't you get enough to eat at home ? " questions 
 the gentleman, 
 
 " Not of marrons glacts" replies Miss Maud with her 
 mouth full, and as the carriage drives away she cries 
 out, " I like you better than 'the other one.' What are 
 you looking so cross at me for ? " The first is to Barnes, 
 and the second to Miss Anstruther, who colors and 
 laughs a little, leaving that gentleman savagely ponder- 
 ing over " the other one ; " which is a new distraction foi 
 
MR. BARNES OF NEW YORK. 9} 
 
 him. "Who the deuce is 'the other one' and how did 
 Maud fix him ! If she only fixed him so that he won't 
 come to time again I'll make her a very handsome pres- 
 ent/' With this malicious reflection Barnes pays the 
 candy dealer, and wonders if a poor man couldn't live on 
 his bonbon bill through several long strikes. Going to 
 his hotel, he finds a little note in her handwriting, that 
 makes the sun seem a little brighter to him as he reads, 
 
 ' Thursday. 
 * Dear Mr. Barnes. 
 
 '* Lady Chartris has arrived ; so now I can ask you to call that 
 I may thank you again. We shall be at home this evening after 
 eight. 
 
 ** Yours very sincerely, 
 
 "Hotel des Anglais, ENID A. ANSTRUTHER." 
 
 " Nice/ 
 
 His valet and baggage having arrived from Paris, Mr. 
 Barnes slips into a dress suit and feels a little the better 
 in it as men generally do though most of them detest 
 the trouble of the change. After dinner he woos wisdom 
 by inspiration imported from Havana, and decides on two 
 things : first, not to give any hint to Miss Anstruther of 
 his suspicions in regard to her brother having fought his 
 duel and killed his man " she had better never know 
 that," he thinks ; second, to make himself absolutely cer- 
 tain that Edwin Gerard Anstruther was the English 
 officer who met Antonio Paoli on that morning in Corsica. 
 This can be easily done he imagines, by a little judicious 
 pumping and a look at his sweetheart's photograph album; 
 perhaps, also, he will see a picture ol " the other one. " This 
 turns his thoughts to a different channel, and he wonders 
 how long it will be before he buys the engagement ring; 
 and if " the other one ? " Here he jumps up suddenly and 
 marches straight for the Hotel des Anglais, for a dreadful 
 idea has flashed through his mind : " What if ' the other 
 one* is in Nice?" 
 
 The other one is certainly not present as Mr. Barnes 
 enters the pretty little parlor whose windows command 
 the Mediterranean on one side, and the Public Garden 
 on the other ; for ( the season in the Riviera being near 
 its close) Lady Chartris has almost the best rooms in 
 the house. The lights are turned down, and he thinks 
 there is no one in the apartment. After a moment, a 
 
98 MR. BARNES OF NEW YORK. 
 
 voice comes to him from one of the deep windows ; he 
 sees Enid in the moonlight that streams from without 
 upon her, and gets another and new sensation. He be- 
 holds the girl he loves, for the first time, in full evening 
 dress. A light, gauzy robe seems to float about and 
 envelop her, permitting some lovely views of her neck 
 and arms, that are exquisitely fair, white and polished, 
 glistening and shining in the subdued light as if they had 
 been stolen from the lost Venus of Praxiteles and givi-n 
 to the girl to complete and enchance the beauty of her 
 face. She does not rise to meet him, but sr.ys, " Please 
 sit down here by me in the window ; the night is too per- 
 fect to spoil it by gas. Lady Chart ris will be here in a 
 few minutes, and then I presume she will expect us to 
 call up conventionality, in the form of the waiter to light 
 the chandelier f " 
 
 Barnes says nothing, but audaciously walks up to his 
 goddess and takes her hand, holding it perhaps a little 
 too long, or pressing it perchance a little too fervidly, 
 for Miss Anstruther gives out a little feminine " Oh ! " 
 and says rather wickedly, "Am I to thank you for mak- 
 ing this parlor a rose-garden for me ? " 
 
 Barnes looks around and sees an immensity of cut 
 flowers all about the room. He has not sent them, and 
 though he curses himself for not doing so, he anathema- 
 tizes the man who sent them more ; being satisfied it is 
 44 the other one." 
 
 " No ! " he says slowly. " You must thank somebody 
 else for these; I am a man of business; and, shall I tell 
 you the truth, have had more practical interests of yours 
 to look after to-day, than flowers." 
 
 This is a much greater stroke of diplomacy on his part 
 than he guesses ; his only idea was to palliate not being 
 as attentive as " the other one;" but he has given the girl 
 something to be curious about, and that curiosity linked 
 to him. 
 
 Miss Anstruther is now a blaze of inquiry u For me f 
 More practical interests? What do you mean? Isn't 
 my luggage all right ? Have I lost a box ? Did I leave 
 anything behind me in the railway carriage? or, is it 
 those awful men ? " the last in a tone a little tremulous. 
 
 44 None of these; you need fear the men no loni; 
 they were following me. At present, at least, I can telS 
 
MR, BARNES OF NEW YORK. 99 
 
 you no more," says Mr. Barnes, who sees he has made a 
 lucky hit and does not propose to destroy it. " I suppose 
 you have no idea who these flowers came from ? " he 
 has a little incredulity in his voice. 
 
 " Oh yes, I have ! I think they were sent by guess?" 
 "The other one ! " he mutters in such a gloomy and mo- 
 rose tone that Miss Enid goes into a spasm of laughter 
 as she gasps, " No ! they came from Edwin my 
 brother, of course ! " Then blushing a little, she says, 
 * There is no other one ! " and gets embarrassed as she 
 sees Barnes* face gleam at her unintentional but most 
 suggestive remark. But pulling herself together, fin- 
 ishes " There is no one at all, and of course there can 
 be no other one ! " 
 
 44 Ah, then the sooner you get one, the better !" returns 
 Mr. Barnes, very tenderly; who has the theory that when a 
 woman blushes at a thought, she generally thinks it; and 
 wisely judges that his darling has been meditating about 
 him in the position he wishes to assume ; which is that 
 of the impetuous lover. 
 
 44 What do you mean by that?" replies Enid, who 
 hardly catches his drift, though she is a pretty quick 
 thinker herself. His answer leaves no room for doubt. 
 
 44 1 mean," he says this very slowly " I mean what 
 a beautiful hand you have for a wedding ring." 
 
 The cool insinuation of this remark gives Miss An- 
 struther a chill. She hardly likes to say that she hasn't a 
 beautiful hand, which her vanity tells her would not be 
 true; and if she admits that she has what next? 
 Americans are a rapid people, and this is apparently the 
 fleetest greyhound of the lot. He has known her thirty- 
 six hours, and has implied more than many men would 
 after a year's worship. 
 
 A bright idea strikes her. She crushes him by saying, 
 44 That depends upon who would place it there !" Then 
 seeing that she has hit Barnes harder than she wishes to, 
 she loses her head and palliates it by an impulsive " Oh, 
 I didn't mean that to you ! " and finds herself in an 
 awful predicament. 
 
 " To me ! " Barnes has got her hand, and might have 
 proceeded to extremities and been foolish, for Miss 
 Anstruther was a young lady whose pride would have 
 resented so sudden an assault upon the citadel of her 
 
00 MR. BARNES OF NEW YORK. 
 
 affections, and would have never permitted a surrender 
 to a thirty-six hours' siege. But here a small voice, that 
 is not conscience, breaks upon his ear. It says, " I am 
 in the next window sitting quietly ! I thought I would 
 tell you, Enid, as you always like to know if I am near 
 when you have gentlemen visitors ! " 
 
 The intense silence that follows is broken by Miss 
 Anstruther saying sternly, " Maud, do not tell atrocious 
 stories ! " 
 
 " It's true ! you know you didn't like it *hen 'the other 
 one ' used to come ! " 
 
 Enid rises in dignity, a flush of anger on her face, a 
 tear of vexation in her eye, her mouth very firm but 
 trembling with annoyance, as she says determinedly : 
 " Until you can learn to respect me and the truth also 
 you must leave this room ! " 
 
 " I sha'n't ! " replies Miss Maud, coming in from the 
 window, "and if you go to bullying I'll tell him " 
 She gets no farther, for Miss Anstruther has thrown open 
 the door, and remarks, "If you do not leave the parlor 
 and stay out of it all the evening I shall tell your gov* 
 erness you know what ! " this last very significantly. 
 
 " Miss Maud Chartris gives a piteous' 4 Don't, please !** 
 and bolts from the room in abject terror. 
 
 " Mind over matter ! " remarks Barnes. 
 
 "Yes," says Miss Anstruther, who rings the bell and 
 orders the waiter to light the room, and does not return 
 to the window. u I always keep one undiscovered crime 
 of Maud's in abeyance, over her head : and in desperate 
 cases threaten to deliver her to justice. Were it not for 
 that, I couldn't live in the house with her And now 
 will you do me a favor? " 
 
 "Certainly!" 
 
 " Then tell me how much my railway journey has cort 
 you ? " 
 
 Some men would have replied " Nothing ! " and never 
 got asked for another favor. But Barnes, who is an 
 American, as regards bufiiness ; and a gentleman, as re- 
 gards habit, pulls out his pocket-book and mentions the 
 amount. 
 
 The girl fills his hand full of bills, and says simply, " I 
 can repay you your money, but yonr kindness I'll keep 
 that, if you please, to remember you by. My brothc.f 
 
MR. BARNES OF NEW -TOXK; , *C.l 
 
 doesn't recollect meeting you, but asked me to thank you 
 for him also ! " 
 
 This is precisely the opening that Barnes wants. 
 
 "If you have a picture of him," he suggests, "I can 
 tell you with more certainty." 
 
 44 Yes here is my locket that was Edwin's two years 
 ago ! " says Enid with a little smile of pride, and hands 
 him the article, which contains the face of a dark man 
 of about thirty. 
 
 44 Do you think he looks like me ? " the girl asks, after 
 a moment. 
 
 " Not at all ! " says Barnes, very much relieved, for he 
 sees that this is not the officer of the duel. " He is as 
 dark as night, and you are fair! " 
 
 "Impossible! Let me see!" She takes the locket 
 from him, and exclaims, " This is not my brother ? *' 
 The next instant her face flushes very red and her eyes 
 beam with indignation ; she turns to him and says, 
 "This is a miserable joke of that fearful child ! Maud 
 Chartris has taken out my brother's face and inserted 
 that of a friend ! " 
 
 " Nothing more ?"says Barnes rather pointedly, for he 
 has become very jealous of the man in the locket. 
 
 " If I had a a lover dear enough to me to wear his 
 likeness upon my heart, I should not submit it to the 
 gaze of others ; 1 should want it all for myself. Of course 
 it was not necessary for me to give any explanation to 
 you of the matter ! " 
 
 " Of course not ! " mutters poor Barnes, humbly, who 
 feels he is being whipped for Maud Chartris' fault, " You 
 are sure the girl did it ? " 
 
 " Certainly ! Lord " she checks herself " the person 
 whose face was in this locket," for she has already re- 
 moved the picture, " is a gentleman ! " 
 
 " Oh ! a lord is 'the other one,' " thinks the American, 
 " it's lucky she's an English girl ; if Enid Anstruther 
 came from my side of the water I shouldn't have one 
 chance in a thousand ! " He forgets his anxiety for the 
 brother in his interest for the sister, and, Lady Chartrs 
 coming in, the conversation takes another subject. 
 
 Lady Chartris is fat and fifty, though she struggles for 
 a youth that has gone from her into the distant past ; 
 she talks of her early widowhood, and of being a young 
 

 T iARNES OF NEW YORK, 
 
 woman and alone in the world, with only her babies 
 " This is my oldest," she says, patting hand, for 
 
 she cannot reach her shoulder ; that young lady having 
 taken courage and followed her mother into the room. 
 
 "Ah! a sweet child !" murmurs Barnes, sympatheti- 
 cally, for he has many good reasons for making the mother 
 his friend " how old ? eleven ! " 
 
 " Yes, nearly twelve ! " replies Lady Chartris. " How 
 wonderfully you guess ages?" 
 
 " Oh ! I knew she couldn't be older than that, by look- 
 ing at you/' says Barnes, and doesn't even blush at his 
 remark. " A well-grown child for her age ! " 
 
 " Oh ! I was as big as I am now when I was thirteen ! " 
 says Miss Maud, who has been waiting eagerly for her 
 chance to speak. 
 
 At this distressing contretemps a silence falls on the 
 group, only broken by a somewhat malicious laugh from 
 Miss Anstruther, who has not entirely regained her 
 temper. 
 
 "Ten! you mean, my little one!" ejaculates her 
 mother. " You confound ten and thirteen. Your g'>r- 
 erness must give you longer lessons in arithmetic I si all 
 speak to her ! " 
 
 At this prospect of increased tasks the youthful 
 prodigy's countenance falls immensely. 
 
 Here Enid takes occasion to mention that they think 
 of going to Monte Carlo the next day. 
 
 " Yes, we are going to Monte Carlo ! ** repeats Lady 
 Chartris, but doesn't invite Barnes to join the party. 
 Whereupon that gentleman suggests that the ladies 
 permit him to show them the beauty of the Public Gar- 
 dens by moonlight, as this is their last day in Nice ! " 
 
 Enid half assents, though Lady Chartris thinks it is 
 rather too late, and the subject drops for five minutes, 
 when Lady Chartris in speaking of Americans, mentions 
 the name of the Countess of Morington. " She, I be- 
 lieve, is an American ; do you know her ? " 
 
 " Pretty well," says Barnes, "she is my sister !" 
 
 " Oh ! " remarks the widow, somewhat impressed, for 
 Lady Morington is a very great swell in London, "I'm 
 glad I have met one of your relatives ; but as we are 
 going into the garden with you, we had better put on our 
 wraps at once/* 
 
MR. BARNES OP NEW YORfC. 103 
 
 As the ladies leave the room to prepare for their walk, 
 Lady Chartris suggests that Mr. Barnes shall accompany 
 them to Monte Carlo, and that gentleman is very happy 
 to accept the gracious invitation ; a few moments after 
 they are in the beautiful gardens and Lady Chartris 
 being engaged in pursuing the eccentric rambles of Miss 
 Maud, Mr. Barnes finds himself t*te-a-tcte with Miss An- 
 struther, who is hanging on his arm. 
 
 " I went to that wretched child," says the young lady 
 perceiving her chaperon is not in ear-shot, " and demanded 
 my brother's picture. Maud confessed her crime, but 
 declared she had lost the likeness, and now I have none 
 to show you ; but you could hardly forget Edwin if you 
 had met him. He is fair like me ! " 
 
 "And very tall?" suggests Barnes, who remembers 
 that Marina had called him a Saxon giant. 
 
 "Not very tall for an Englishman, but tall for a 
 Frenchman ! " This description might be that of the 
 officer of the duel 
 
 Has your brother any marked peculiarity ? " 
 
 u No ! except that he is very noble looking ! " 
 
 44 That would be the description of any sister ! " replies 
 Barnes. " Now my sister, I have no doubt, thinks me 
 very noble looking ? " 
 
 "Does she?" the incredulity of her voice and aston- 
 ished expansion of her eyes are not complimentary ; but 
 after a second Enid laughs and says, " I don't think I am 
 prejudiced. My younger brother, Arthur, is decidedly 
 ignoble ; he bids fair to be a perfect pigmy I" 
 
 Barnes can get no information in regard to Edwin that 
 is absolutely satisfying, so he turns the talk into another 
 channel and tries to bring it back to a more personal 
 nature ; but, here he finds himself baffled and defeated 
 Miss Anstruther fights very shy, and is, as he expresses 
 it to himself, " a very wary bird in matters of sentiment" 
 that evening. Try how he will the girl twists romance* 
 into merriment, and suddenly remembers that they have 
 lost Lady Chartris after a short, fruitless search, Miss 
 Enid suggests that her chaperon having probably returned 
 to the hotel, she must immediately follow her. As they 
 leave the garden, they pass two figures, walking together 
 whom Barnes salutes ; one is Musso Danella, and the 
 t*her ( Marina 
 
104 MR. BARNES OF NEW YORK. 
 
 " I have seen that girl before/* says Enid, " she Is tht 
 young" lady who painted that awful picture of the duel in 
 the Paris Salon" 
 
 " Yes," says her escort " I stood beside you while you 
 studied it." 
 
 "Indeed! I did not notice you; but perhaps that i? 
 excusable, as I hardly knew you from any other mar 
 then ! " 
 
 "Let me prove to you I was near you/* replies Barnes. 
 "Are you very much in love with the gentleman who 
 fitted in the painting ? " 
 
 At this, Miss Anstruther gives a merry little laugh, and 
 cries, " No, I hated him, he was so ugly ! " 
 
 " Then why did you say you loved him ? You mig'ht 
 raise false hopes?" 
 
 44 What ? in a man on canvas?*' cries the girl in a gaap 
 of astonishment 
 
 " No in his earthly representative ! ** 
 
 At this extraordinary remark the girl opens her eyes 
 and says, " Yes if he ever heard me ! " 
 
 " All the same, you should be careful about such state* 
 ments," continues Barnes in solemn pathos. "Young 
 girls should be very particular. If he had heard you, 
 the man might have broken his heart for you. Why did 
 you do it ? " 
 
 The girl gives way to a strain of musical laughter at 
 Barnes* tones which are those of a camp-meeting par- 
 son and then stuns him with these extraordinary words: 
 
 " Why did I do it ? It was a rust / But we are at the 
 des Anglais ; good night, Mr. Barnes of New York ' " 
 Then she laughs again, runs up the stairs to her room, 
 and loote at her beautiful self in the glass earnestly and 
 sadly, and a little tear or two dims her bright eye, as she 
 says to her fair image, " You are lost to me; you will soon 
 be no longer my own you will be his f He's going to 
 conquer me ; I can see it in his eye ; he's one of those 
 horrid creatures who go about and make poor girls marry 
 them, whether they want to or not ! " And then she 
 gives a little laugh and then a little sigh, and wonders if 
 he is very wild, and then suddenly exclaims, " The 
 wretch ! if he had dared to speak to me to-night I would 
 have crushed him oh, if he should be only amu 
 himseK " 
 
MR. BARNES OF NKW YORK. 105 
 
 Here she commences to tarn pale and choke, and goes 
 to bed and has a nice, enjoyable cry, until the fear tfcat 
 he may see her eyes are red next morning, stops her, and 
 she goes to sleep to dream of 
 
 As for Barnes, he goes home stunned with astonish- 
 ment, and mutters, "A rust? What kind of a rust? A 
 ruse for what ? " and begins to think that women's minds 
 are beyond the ken of masculine logic; and that Marina's 
 portrait of him must be the cur sedest likeness ever painted; 
 and this makes him think how he can set his mind at 
 rest in regard to Edwin Anstruther, which leads him to 
 very savage thoughts of "the other one " which send him 
 to bed in a bad humor. And so both he and the girl he 
 adores arrive at the same result, and what is probably 
 best for them after this day'* experience, and that is 
 ftleep. 
 
.. ; HUL *A*N* OF NfcW V 
 
 BOOK III. 
 
 THE ENCOUNTER AT MONTB 
 CARLO. 
 
 CHAPTER XII 
 
 LA BELLE BLACK WOO a 
 
 THE mind of Count Musso Danella was of that 
 peculiar character that often sees a great deal in a very 
 little. Educated in Padua, he had early become imbued 
 with that mediaeval school of Pessimist philosophy that, as 
 enunciated by that diabolical Florentine, Signor Niccolo 
 Machiavelli, made middle-age Italy a nation of treachery 
 and deceit. One of the cardinal principles of the faith 
 being that every human action has its controlling human 
 motive generally, a bad one. 
 
 Believing, then, that nothing is really unselfish, Dan- 
 ella wonders why Barnes should have taken such an in- 
 terest in attempting to persuade Marina to forego her 
 vengeance. What difference did it make to the American 
 whether there was one less Englishman upon the earth. 
 But he said a word to save him trgo, it made some 
 difference. Problem : to discover what difference ? And 
 turning this in his subtle brain, the following facts 
 startled him. 
 
 It was not important enough for Barnes to visit Marina 
 in Paris, for he could have easily found her there, to 
 give her the message from the dead ; why was it im- 
 portant enough for him to do in Nice what he had not 
 cared to do in Paris? In other words, what has con- 
 nected Mr. Barnes so much more intimately with this 
 affair in the last twotff-iour hours" 
 
**, BARNES Cif HBW YORK, IO| 
 
 These considerations ou the afternoon of the Ameri 
 can's visit cause the Count to look over the detective's 
 memoranda, who had followed him from Paris, Two 
 facts meet him in the investigation. First, Barnes has 
 fallen in love with Enid Aostruther. Second, Miss An- 
 struther mentioned in her conversation while standing 
 upon the station platform at Toulon, the English navy. 
 The Count saunters down to Mr. Barnes* hotel, and, 
 politely pumping the clerk, learns that no one whomso- 
 ever has called on that gentleman since he has been at 
 Nice. He wanders up to the des Anglais and discovers 
 that a young English naval lieutenant has waited upon 
 Miss Anstruther, and that, moreover, he is her brother. 
 He goes to the harbor and is told that the British gun- 
 boat Sealark sailed for Gibraltar the evening before, 
 Lieutenant Anstruther being one of her officers. Ar- 
 ranging these facts in his mind, the question naturally 
 shapes itself," Was Lieutenant Anstruther of the English 
 navy the motive that caused Mr. Barnes to try and in- 
 fluence Marina to forget her oath of the Vendetta 1" 
 The American loves the sister, and a service to the 
 brother would tend to assist his suit ; besides here the 
 Count remembers, with a start, this English girl herself 
 had been interested for some cause or other in the paint- 
 ing of the duel. He himself has seen her looking at it 
 on two different occasions. Altogether, though the clew 
 is not as promising as it might be for Barnes may have 
 been but curious to know how the affair progressed, 
 and been perhaps drawn to see Marina by her beauty 
 still, in the absence of any other, it is worth investi- 
 gating. 
 
 Consequently, the next morning the Count tells Marina, 
 who is uneasy, feverish and worried, and who shows it 
 to his eyes that follow her every movement, that he is 
 going to run over to Gibraltar by railway ; and, as it will 
 be a very rapid trip, she had better take old Tomasso, to 
 look after her, run up to Monte Carlo, and seek to for- 
 get all trouble until his return, in a little gayety and dis- 
 sipation. " I advise you, ma belle, to play a little ! The 
 joys of rouge et noir make some of us kill ourselves ; but 
 their excitement keep others alive. Do a little gambling. 
 You are rich enough to risk a few twenty-franc pieces 
 for health V 
 
I08 MR BARNES OF NEW YORK. 
 
 "You are going to Gibraltar?" replies Marina, ijnor 
 ing all else. " Is it that you have a hope ? " 
 
 " Ves a hope a very little hope ! " 
 
 " Then go 3 And if you find him, you will find mo 
 strong enough to do my part ! " The paleness leaves 
 her cheek, and she gives Danella a glance of gratitude 
 that sets his blood on fire. 
 
 " I shall be back in a week, bdUrina carissimal" says 
 the Count, and he takes the railway for Marseilles 
 Spain, while she and old Toraasso go up to Monte 
 Carlo on the same train that carries Mr. Barnes, Mis* 
 Anstruther and the Chartris family. 
 
 To the desperate gamester, Monte Carlo is like an 
 opium dream, in its extremes of the joys of Heaven and 
 the pangs of Hades. So is it with Barnes, though the 
 stake he plays for is not generally wagered on the tables 
 of the Casino ; but as the smiles of Fortune and women 
 usually go together, a good many pretty girls have 
 probably been lost and won on the roulette of Monaco. 
 
 The first evening at this principality of chance is al- 
 most a Heaven to Mr. Barnes, and a fairy dream to Enid. 
 After dinner he takes her and the Chartris infant to the 
 Casino and introduces them to the mysteries of roulette ; 
 both girls win, Miss Anstruther gathering up enough 
 gold to keep her in gloves for a year ; while Maud, by 
 the help of letting Mr. Barnes pay all losses, and pocket- 
 ing all winnings, contrives to carry off a few weeks* bon- 
 bon money. 
 
 Both could stay and wager tneir souls, such is then 
 eagerness and delight. But the luck changing, Mr. 
 Barnes returns the infant Chartris to her hotel and carries 
 off his divinity for a walk in the gardens. 
 
 Here, on one of the terraces they pass Marina. She is 
 seated in a hopeless kind of manner sadly watching the 
 throng. Her dress, which is black as the night, makec 
 her pale face look even paler and sadder than it is. Old 
 Tomasso, who still wears the picturesque costume of his 
 bland, stands near sympathetically watching his loved 
 mistress. 
 
 The gay crowd pass her by ; the music of the band 
 floats around her, but the girl never changes her sad 
 smile, and her mind seems to be far away. She recog- 
 nizes Barnes 9 bow and appears for a moment as if she 
 
MR. BARNES OF NEW YORK. IO$ 
 
 wishes to speak to him ; but that gentleman hurries Miss 
 Anstruther on, thinking it safer that the two young 
 ladies do not meet. 
 
 Enid notices this, and says, " What do you run past 
 that pretty girl for ? One would think she was not good 
 to look at ! " 
 
 " Neither she is, when one has been educated to higher 
 types ! " This is emphasized by a very killing look from 
 Barnes. 
 
 " I do not see any higher type here ! In fact I've never 
 seen a more beautiful woman. I'm afraid the trouble is 
 not in her charms, but in your appreciation of them," 
 remarks Enid, who has a way of generally taking the 
 other side in most discussions. "She knows you. Her 
 face interests me She looks as if she had a history- 
 Please introduce me ! " 
 
 If there are two women in the world that Barnes thinks 
 should not meet, Marina Paoli and Enid Anstruther are 
 the two ; but as he can't give his reasons he can only 
 procrastinate. 
 
 " Certainly, to-morrow morning with pleasure ! w 
 
 "No! To-night!" 
 
 " What ! and spoil my evening ? " a little tenderly. 
 
 " Your evening should be ended by this time ; I must 
 soon go back to the hotel. There ! I see her now ! 
 This way come ! She looks sad and lonely ; let us try 
 to make her a little happier ! " 
 
 Such a request is impossible to refuse without giving 
 explanations that Mr. Barnes will not and cannot give ; 
 besides his divinity's us has made him so tender that he 
 is very pliable at this moment. So he walks up, and 
 after exchanging a word with Marina, says, "Made- 
 moiselle Paoli, let me present Miss Anstruther ! " 
 
 As he utters Marina's name, Enid's eyes begin to 
 open, and she cries, " Paoli ? Were you in Egypt, Made- 
 moiselle ? " 
 
 44 Yes, a year ago ! " replies Marina with a repressed 
 sigh. 
 
 44 Did you not spend some of your time in the English 
 Hospital at Alexandria ? " 
 
 " Yes ! " there is an expectant look now on the Cor 
 can's face. 
 
 "And nursed my brother Edwin Anstruther?* 
 
110 BARNES OF NEW YORK. 
 
 "Yes!" 
 
 " Then, darling ! you are the woman who saved his 
 life ! " and Enid goes up to the girl and gives her a ten- 
 der kiss, putting her whole soul into her lips, in a man- 
 ner that makes Barnes hungry for his turn to come ; for 
 it is the first kiss he has ever seen Miss Anstruther give ; 
 and the manner in which she does it is a beautiful little 
 poem of sentiment. 
 
 At this salute Marina becomes deadly pale and almost 
 repulses her, standing as if fighting back some mighty 
 emotion 
 
 " Don't you remember Edwin ? " falters Enid, who 
 still embraces the Corsican. 
 
 "Remember him?" and Marina seizes the English 
 tfirl in her arms and gives her a burning kiss that makes 
 Barnes start and mutter to himself, "She kissed the 
 sister, but thought she was kissing the brother ! " 
 
 "What an impulsive dear you are!" says Miss An- 
 struther, arranging her somewhat disordered toilet, 
 * Where are you stopping here ? " 
 
 The Grand ! " says Marina, as in a dream. 
 
 " How nice ! so am I ! we'll go up together and talk 
 about him ! " Enid puts her arm in Marina's, and they 
 leave Barnes behind them, who follows in a very sulky 
 mood, as he has no liking to play second fiddle to any- 
 body in Miss Anstruther's presence. 
 
 The next morning the two girls come down to break- 
 fast together, a sure sign of friendship in woman, and 
 Miss Anstruther tells Mr. Barnes they have spent half 
 the night in talking about her brother. 
 
 She told me of the message he asked her to send me 
 when he thought he was about to die. And I showed 
 her his letters to me afterwards all but one, that was a 
 little too romantic about her ! " 
 
 " So this Corsican is the English girl you've picked 
 out for your brother's wife ? M 
 
 " Not at all ! She cannot marry I Marina is going to 
 be a nun ! " 
 
 "A nun?" gasps Barnes in a helpless, stupid way. 
 
 " That's what I said ! A nun I She tells me she will 
 never marry, that her life is consecrated ! " 
 
 " Of course ! Consecrated ! I forgot ! " 
 
 " Did you ? You don't seem as clever as you generally 
 
MR. BARNES OF NEW YORK. Ill 
 
 are. What are you going to do to amuse me this morn- 
 ing?" says the young lady with a pretty air of proprietor- 
 ship, for she has begun to discover that she can dictate 
 to Mr. Barnes once in a while, and rather enjoys it. 
 " You said you would teach me how to shoot a pistol ! " 
 
 And so they take the little Chartris girl, who makes 
 almost too effective a chaperon ; for she has ears and 
 uses them; and a tongue, and will use it if they give her 
 anything to talk about; and pass a very agreeable morn- 
 ing together, Enid winning a pair or two of gloves on 
 some impossible shots she forces Barnes to attempt. 
 
 She has not invited Marina to go with them, for she 
 prefers the American's company to that of any girl's ; 
 though Marina makes an agreeable distraction. 
 
 And the evening of the second day approaches that 
 has a surprise in it, and much misery for them both. 
 There has been the usual distractions of gay life at Mon- 
 aco; a German student, having made love to red too 
 constantly, being jilted, has blown out his brains; a Rus- 
 sian Prince has run away with an Austrian Countess, and a 
 Greek adventurer has had a wonderful run of luck and 
 broken the bank. But the roulette ball runs round as 
 viciously as ever ; and this evening, though Barnes does 
 not bet on its eccentricities, Miss Anstruther does with 
 the ardor of a devotee and a woman, which means a good 
 deal ; for nearly all the fair sex are natural gamblers. 
 There is a capriciousness in the fortune they woo that is 
 like themselves, and it attracts them; being one of the 
 few notable exceptions to the great rule of nature, that 
 similarities repel each other. 
 
 The luck is a little against her, Mr. Barnes notes, as 
 he sees in the crush about one of the roulette tables, 
 squeezed between Enid and a Russian Princess, a woman 
 he knows too well, and who, he thinks, is unworthy to. 
 even breathe the same air as Miss Anstruther. The lady 
 looks up and recognizes him pointedly ; and, in that 
 social republic, he responds by a slight bow. A moment 
 after the cattle king from Kansas, who had brought con- 
 fusion upon him that day in the Paris Salon, stamps into 
 the room, forces his way through the excited throng, and, 
 standing behind the lady, backs up her bets with liberal 
 ardor ; and, she chancing to win, he cries out, " Hello, 
 Barnes of New Yttfci iMjf \this is squarer than three 
 
112 MR. BARNES OF NEW YORK. 
 
 card monte*, and most as good as American poker. We'll 
 have a game of that this evening after this is over, if it 
 suits you ! " 
 
 Mr. Barnes declines to play poker. Miss Anstruther 
 looks up and remembers the cattle sovereign; but, being 
 deep in the mysteries of her system, which consists in 
 betting on the odd numbers believing in the old maxim 
 pays little attention to anything else ; and, this time 
 being successful, grabs her winnings in an eager manner, 
 as if she feared the croupier would defraud her of them. 
 At this, the lady at her side says something to her ; and 
 es grinds his teeth together as he sees his goddess 
 in the joy of fortune, laugh and reply to her in a very 
 pleasant off-hand sort of manner. 
 
 After play is over, for Enid cannot be enticed away 
 
 before, and her admirer has a chance of a word with her, 
 
 ict, is bidding her good-night at the Grand Hotel, 
 
 ies suddenly says, "Do you like gambling, Miss 
 
 Anstruther ? " 
 
 " I love it ! " cries the girl. 
 
 " Then I advise you to play no more ! * 
 
 "And why not? Do you fear I shall squander my 
 fortune and blow out my brains like poor Von Waldow, 
 the German student? If I couldn't take care of my 
 own, there are trustees in England who grind me down 
 to my allowance ! " The remark about trustees is made 
 with some bitterness. 
 
 44 Certainly not ! But the excitement affects your spirits ; 
 you exult too much when you win, and despair too much 
 when you lose ! " 
 
 " Oh, then I make a vulgar display of my passions ! " 
 
 " Not at all ! " replies Barnes, keeping his temper, for 
 he sees Enid has lost some of hers. " You know I do not 
 mean to insinuate that ; but to one who has known you 
 as I do " 
 
 Yes three days ! " 
 
 He pays no attention to this remark, which Miss An- 
 struther throws in with rather a sneering emphasis ; but, 
 goes on, " You do not seem exactly yourself. Remember 
 I speak to you as a friend ! " 
 
 " Of course ! unpleasant advice always comes from 
 friends f " a slight interrogation can be marked in the 
 lady's voice 
 
MR. BARNES OF NEW YORK. 1 13 
 
 "Besides/* here Barnes becomes very earnest, "the 
 society of the table is not exactly proper for a young girl 
 like you. Did you notice the woman who sat next you 
 the woman you spoke to of course you did not know 
 her face It was that of the infamous La Belle Black- 
 wood ! " 
 
 Barnes has lost his head and left himself open for a 
 tremendous return shot, and he gets it. 
 
 "Butyeu did ! Yes, and bowed to her too, when you 
 were in my company ; do you suppose I would have 
 spoken to the creature unless you had guaranteed her by 
 your bow!" 
 
 " I ! " murmurs Barnes, who had not expected this view 
 of his conduct. 
 
 " Yes ! " cries the young lady, who is now thoroughly 
 angry and will give no quarter, " and you know her ad- 
 dress in Paris, and told it to the cattle scoundrel ; and 
 fibbed about it, in very shame, saying you had read it in 
 the Figaro, when I looked over every line of that paper 
 and it wasn't there ! Oh, it is noble myou to reproach me 
 with having brushed past her in a crowd ! " 
 
 " Very well ! " says Barnes, who concludes that he had 
 better not discuss La Belle Blackwood any more that 
 evening, " Continue to play, but remember that I warn 
 you, you will regret it before three days ! " 
 
 " Will I ? Not so much as you will regret insulting me ! " 
 And planting this Parthean arrow in her worshiper's 
 heart with a very savage glance in her eyes, Miss Anstru- 
 ther rushes up the stairs and flies to her room. 
 
 As for Barnes, he walks out into the moonlight, thinks 
 it the blackest night of the season, and says in a horrified 
 way, " If I have lost her ! She's not an angel, but I want 
 her more than all the angels in Heaven ! " Then he 
 mutters to himself, " If I don't win this battle she will 
 despise me, and ' the other one ' will get her ! " This sets 
 him to thinking deeply. He knows La Belle Blackwood 
 too well, not to know she will address Miss Anstruther 
 again. She has that self-assertive diablery that loves to 
 insult the world from which she is cast out, and had made 
 her infamy very famous by several times furnishing the 
 Parisian journals with piquant little paragraphs in which 
 her name has been coupled with that of ladies of the 
 
:i4 MR. BARNES OF NEW YORK. 
 
 Barnes makes up his mind that by no chance shall thii 
 happen to the object of his devotion, so he walks off to 
 the Hotel de Paris, and sends up his card to La Black* 
 wood, and, while waiting that Aspasia's answer, sees to 
 his joy a miserable little French dandy come sneaking 
 down stairs and go off into the darkness. I have a card 
 that'll fix Madam la Diable now, he reflects, as he is 
 shown to that lady's luxurious apartments. 
 
 La Blackwood receives Mr. Barnes effusively. 
 
 " Ah ! mon cher? she says, speaking between the puffs 
 of a deliciously flavored Russian cigarette, and half re- 
 clining in a languid feline manner in a sumptuous arm* 
 chair, the blue satin of which is in admirable contrast to 
 the delicate tint of her dress for she is in a masterpiece 
 of Worth's, and looks as fresh as a violet after all her years 
 of dissipation "Make yourself at home, my boy. Will 
 you have a glass of Chamber tin, a cigarette, or both ! ' 
 
 " Neither! thank you ! " replies the gentleman coolly. 
 
 " Then take a chair ! If you're not always thirsty you 
 are always lazy ! " 
 
 " Not at present I I am here on business ! Unpleasant 
 business ! " 
 
 "You? Business?" The lady opens her eyes in su- 
 preme surprise, " You never did any business before in 
 your life 
 
 " Perhaps not, but I'm going to do a stroke to-night ! 
 You addressed this evening at the Casino a young Eng- 
 lish girl?" 
 
 44 Ah ! The one with whom you are so much in love f 
 I can see you have always good taste ! Your charmer is 
 here alont f " This last question is put with such a 
 leering insinuation that if Barnes had any thought of spar- 
 ing the miserable creature one pang in the interview he 
 throws it away. 
 
 " No !" he replies. " Had she been of your kmd I 
 should have nothing to say to you on the matter. She 
 is under the charge of Lady Chartris ; and you dared to 
 speak to her publicly this evening." 
 
 " And why not, if I cared to ? " 
 
 " Because your addressing her was an impertinence ! " 
 
 "Was it?" says the lady, yawning politely in Mr. 
 Barnes' face, "then I shall be impertinent again to- 
 morrow 1 " 
 
MR BARNES OF NEW YORK 115 
 
 " Kxcuse me, you will not ! " 
 
 "And why not, man chcrl" 
 
 " Because you are going to leave Monaco to-morro* 
 morning before Miss Anstruther gets up ! " 
 
 " And what makes you think that, imbecile ? " says La 
 Blackwood, who is beginning to get angry, though she 
 likes Barnes in a general sort of way. 
 
 " Because I am going to compel you to leave ! " 
 
 44 You ? You are impertinently funny ! Tell me how * 
 you idiot ! " 
 
 " Because, if you don't, I shall tell Ruggles that M. 
 de Cravasse is here, and it won't take him long to find 
 out who that gentleman is ! " 
 
 "So you would betray me? "she answers, for the 
 cattle king's millions are at present an object to her. 
 " But I shall not go, all the same. I love money a great 
 deal, but I'll risk a break with M. Ruggles to make you 
 unhappy, you miserable canaille of a canaille nation ! " 
 and she lashes herself into a fury, and calls Barnes and 
 his and her country too, for that matter some very un- 
 pleasant names, for La Blackwood has the temper of a 
 fiend when she allows herself the luxury of giving it an 
 outing, which is pretty often. 
 
 Mr. Barnes stands before her and takes her invective 
 in silence, but with a very ugly look on his face ; for he 
 has played his card and lost. He had supposed the 
 woman loved money more than all else, and he now finds 
 she likes her wickedness even better. 
 
 Seeing he makes no move to go, she finishes in these 
 words : " You come to me, a priestess of vice, and prate 
 of virtue ; you, who call yourself a man of the world, 
 that means the same as harlot in woman ! You wish to 
 shield your innocent Miss, who is innocent because she 
 is not old enough to have learnt vice ; and to protect 
 her dainty exclusiveness you insult me ! Fool ! you 
 know I always keep my word ; and I swear to you if she 
 comes to the Casino to-morrow I will kiss her lips and 
 if she resents it, which has the most to lose by scandal, 
 your immaculate angel or * La Belle Blackwood ? ' And 
 now, the door ! " giving him an invitation to go with a 
 very impressive gesture of the hand. 
 
 Barnes knows the woman will keep her word. To 
 prevent Enid's going to the Casino involves an explana 
 
6 MR. BARNES OF NEW YORK. 
 
 tion that in all probability may cost him what he darei 
 not contemplate ; for he knows the haughty pride ol 
 Miss Anstruther. He almost staggers from the room. 
 
 But as he goes out La Blackwood gives him a burst oi 
 mocking laughter, and cries after him, "My kiss won't 
 hurt your baby ; I was innocent myself once ! " 
 
 A flash of thought, and Mr. Barnes comes back into 
 her presence, and says shortly and in a hoarse voice, foi 
 he is very desperate now, and will spare no man noi 
 woman to save the girl he loves from any scandal 01 
 noyance. " Do you know a man named John Marshall 
 Spotts, of Cresline, Ohio ? " 
 
 She gives a gasp ! 
 
 " Do you know a woman named Martha Strowbridgo 
 Spotts of the same place ? " 
 
 - My G( 
 
 " Within two weeks from this time there will be placed 
 in their hands a portrait of you ; a description of you, 
 and your life and career taken from the Paris journals. 
 Also a remark about that little scar upon the back of 
 your fair neck. Yes ! that one you put your hand to 
 the one you wear the lace to hide. Do you think they 
 wHl know La Belle Blackwood ' then ? " 
 
 "Oh, God ! My mother ! They think me dead ! It 
 will kill her !" And this woman who has fought her fight 
 in all her pride of folly and wickedness, falls on the floor 
 and writhes and grovels at his feet, crying between her 
 panting sobs, " Have mercy ! Have mercy ! " 
 
 44 Then leave Monaco before nine o'clock to-morrow 
 morning, or you know I will keep my word I" Barnes 
 leaves the miserable woman, confident that he has won 
 his battle, and going to his hotel mutters a prayer the 
 first he has uttered for years "That he may win his 
 idol yet ! " which, being of a practical mind, becomes 
 very like a petition to Providence that Miss An- 
 struther may have an awful run of bad luck at the 
 roulette tables, and so be brought to bow down to him 
 and acknowledge him as her guardian angel once more; 
 An event that is very likely to happen. 
 
MR. BARNES OF NEW YORK, II) 
 
 CHAPTER XIII. 
 
 BORROW IT FROM BARNES ! 
 
 THE next morning Mr. Barnes, who rises earlier than if 
 his usual habit, strolls over to the Hotel de Paris and in- 
 quires for La Black wood. He is informed by the clerk 
 with a shrug of his French shoulders, that Madame has 
 gone. " She complained of malaria ; malaria in the 
 Riviera ? " 
 
 " And M. Ruggles ? " 
 
 " He has followed after her ; he was very angry ; he 
 was swearing ! " 
 
 Barnes wonders whether the proprietor, who has a 
 kindly greeting for him, would look upon him with so 
 much complacency if he knew that it was to his kind 
 offices he owed the loss of two of his most extravagant 
 guests. He goes over to the Grand Hotel and sees Enid 
 and Marina come down to breakfast once more together ; 
 the two young ladies having discovered, perhaps, that 
 they are an excellent contrast : one, dark and grand ; 
 the other, fair and graceful. 
 
 Miss Anstruther appears a picture of vivacious tender- 
 ness to all in the party, save Barnes ; she figuratively 
 tickles Lady Chartris' fat sides by one or two little bon- 
 mots from the Parisian newspapers, and compliments 
 Maud on a new dress, till that practical and outspoken 
 infant says suspiciously, " What do you want me to do 
 for you, Enid ? You can't bribe me with words ; I'm not 
 Mr. Barnes. Why haven't you spoken to him ? he's been 
 looking at you for five minutes ! " 
 
 Thus compelled, Miss Anstruther says, " Good morn- 
 ing ! " to the object of her displeasure, in a frozen voice 
 and with a glacial glance ; then, not waiting for his reply, 
 rushes into an animated conversation with Marina that 
 lasts through breakfast, trying to show how excitedly 
 happy she is ; and, in this, being easily distanced by the 
 beautiful Corsican ; the real article beating the sham, 
 as for some mysterious reason Marina is to-day a crea- 
 ture of joy. 
 
 Barnes imagines it is because Enid makes her feel 
 Edwin is near her. 
 
IlS MR. BARNES OF NEW YORK. 
 
 They have hardly finished the meal when old Tomasso 
 enters and with respectful reverence announces to his 
 mistress, *' Signorita, the carriage for you is at the door ! " 
 
 At this both the young ladies go to their rooms for 
 their hats ; some expedition apparently being in their 
 plans for the day. Mr. Barnes walks out and posts him- 
 l>y the carriage, determined to see if Miss Anstruther 
 will stick to the line she has taken through breakfast 
 with him. 
 
 Marina comes down first ; and as he places her in the 
 landau, she gives him a little squeeze of the hand and 
 says, " Thanks, Mr. Barnes, for your pleasant acquaint- 
 ances ; you have made my life that was lonely here, very 
 happy. But what have you done to Enid ? She is ex- 
 icly angry with you ? " 
 
 Reply is here interrupted by Miss Anstruther, who 
 coldly accepts Mr. Barnes* assistance to step into the 
 carriage ; but her manner indicates that it is under pro- 
 test, and instead of thanks she gives him a very ugly 
 flash of her eyes. 
 
 M.iri:i a. a; >j>arently anxious to palliate her companion's 
 coldness of manner, says, " We are going for a little 
 drive towards Mentone, would you " here she pauses 
 with a little gasp of pain, for Enid has given her a cruel 
 pinch, and before she can complete the intended invita- 
 tion, Miss Anstruther remarks cuttingly, "We would ask 
 you to join us, but fear to take you from your other lady 
 friends ! " 
 
 With that the carriage drives off, old Tomasso sitting 
 gravely on the box beside the driver, and the two girls 
 in a feminine dispute about something. 
 
 " I don't envy poor Marina her ride with my angel this 
 morning. What a fiendish pinch she gave her to cut off 
 my invitation," thinks the American. "I suppose other 
 lady friends means La Belle Blackwood. What a cursed 
 dull place Monaco is !" and he gives a sigh and longing 
 look at the carriage that is just getting out of sight. 
 Then goes in to do the agreeable to Lady Chartris and 
 family ; but, making very poor work of this, he wanders 
 off to the Casino, where he meets some men from New 
 York, who have come there in a yacht ; and they have a 
 very wild day of it, though perhaps not a merry one fui 
 toor Barnes. 
 
MR. BARNES OF NEW YORK. 119 
 
 The two young ladies came back from their drive, if 
 possible, better friends than before ; and soon go arm in 
 arm to the Casino, where Miss Anstruther rather shocks 
 her companion by the desperate manner of her play; 
 wins an amount of money that astonishes her, and comes 
 back to dinner with a reckless triumph on her face that 
 makes it look very beautiful and rather naughty. Mr. 
 Barnes being present, she displays her luck by giving 
 Miss Maud Chartris a couple of twenty-franc pieces for 
 a present; and telling that infant prodigy of her wonder- 
 ful fortune and the great profits of her play, until Maud's 
 eyes grow very large with greed of gain and lust to win 
 herself; and Enid has raised up a spirit in the little girl, 
 that ultimately turns upon and rends her and strikes her 
 to the earth upon a later day; for she has made that 
 juvenile prodigy crazy to gamble. 
 
 After bolting her meal in an eager sort of way, for she 
 is anxious to get back to her occupation again, and has 
 a vague idea of winning some fabulous sum and flaunt- 
 ing the gold in Mr. Barnes* face, to show him how wise 
 she fs 9 and how foolish he was ; Miss Anstruther seizes 
 upon Marina again and drags her off to the roulette 
 tables, attended by old Tomasso. 
 
 It is night ; the lights, the surging crowd of people, 
 the music from the far-off band all excite this wild young 
 lady, and she plays with a feverish energy, that alarms Ma- 
 rina, who cautions her, and gets snubbed for her advice. 
 
 The luck, after one or two little fluctuations, settles 
 against her ; and Miss Anstruther goes home in a very 
 angry mood against fate, and the world, and Mr. Barnes. 
 Consequently, that gentleman the next morning gets a 
 genuine astonishment; not from Enid, but from Made- 
 moiselle Paoli. 
 
 He doesn't see Miss Anstruther ; she has a headache ; 
 but Marina greets him at breakfast with marked coolness; 
 and a few minutes after, happening to see him alone in 
 the hallway, this peculiar young Corsican comes to him, 
 a great flash of anger in her eyes and says sharply, " A 
 word with you, Signer Barnes ! " 
 
 " A hundred, if you are kind enough to talk to me, 
 Madmoiselle Paoli ! " here he stops and looks at her in 
 astonishment, for her great brown Spanish eyes are like 
 coals of fire. 
 
120 MR. BARNES OF MEW YORK. 
 
 She doesn't keep him long in suspense, or beat a! 
 for any delicate expression, for she opens in these as- 
 tounding words, " What makes you such a villain ? " 
 
 " I ? a villain ? " stammers Barnes, who isn't quite sure 
 he understands her. 
 
 " Yes ! a villain ! What have you been doing to Enid ? M 
 
 I ?_Nothing ! " 
 
 "That is not true ! Why did she treat you coldly yes- 
 terday?" 
 
 "Why, really " 
 
 " Ah ! You dare not answer ! And what did you do to 
 her last evening I " 
 
 I ?_ nothing ! I didn't see her ! " 
 
 " Impossible! Last night we returned from the Casino; 
 she was in feverish spirits. Half an hour afterwards I 
 chanced to pass her room ; love has sharp ears, and I 
 caught a sound of suffering. At first she refused to 
 admit me, but I told her I would break down the door, 
 and then I found her in tears. She passed half the night 
 sobbing in my arms ; I took the place that should have 
 been occupied by you ! " 
 
 "Yes ah, of course, I should have been delighted to 
 have been there ! " murmurs Barnes, who wonders which 
 of them is an idiot 
 
 "And yet she said you had insulted her? You have 
 led her on to love you, and now you are breaking her 
 heart!" 
 
 I'm delighted to hear that!" says Barnes, in rap- 
 ture. 
 
 " Ah ! And you glory in it ! But remember that I love 
 Enid, and that if you play with her heart you shall answer 
 to me, Marina Paoli ! " She leaves Barnes, but turning 
 at the head of the stairs she hears a succession of shrill 
 sounds, and then mutters to herself, "The heartless one; 
 destroying Enid's happiness and whistling joyously over 
 it!" 
 
 For this communication gives Barnes as much delight, 
 as it would have given Miss Anstruther chagrin if she had 
 known that he received it He murmurs to himself, 
 ' The roulette tables are playing my game for me with a 
 vengeance Breaking her heart ? My darling ! " and goes 
 about whistling the merriest airs of the merriest French 
 operas, even enduring with wonderful $ang~froid } a fear- 
 
MR. BARNES OF NEW YORK. 121 
 
 ful stab with the eyes that Enid gives him when she 
 makes her appearance an hour or so afterwards. 
 
 Miss Anstruther makes an attack upon the tables that 
 afternoon and returns to the hotel a heavy loser ; and, at 
 night, being desperate, from a mighty desire to compel 
 Barnes to own that she is right and can take care of her- 
 self at roulette, she puts in her satchel all the available 
 funds she commands, except a little rouleau of gold that, 
 the one flash of reason remaining to her that evening, 
 counsels her to keep for an emergency, and, getting 
 Marina to accompany her, goes to the Casino : not to 
 woo fortune but to conquer it. 
 
 " I will win ! " she hisses to herself, clenching her two 
 rows of pearls together that serve her as teeth ; and who- 
 ever has said these unlucky three words, knows that they 
 are a spell against good luck. 
 
 This is the case with Miss Anstruther, and all through 
 the evening she no sooner places her stake than it is 
 raked in by the croupier, whom she begins to regard as 
 an imp of darkness. She can't lose forever she thinks, 
 and makes a bold try for fortune by betting on a single 
 number, and wins thirty-five times the amount of her 
 wager. Marina, who has been astounded at the sums 
 Enid has lost, whispers to her, " Come away ; it is luck 
 enough for to-night ! " 
 
 And so she will. She is holding out her hand for her 
 money when she sees Mr. Barnes looking at her. " He 
 will think his power drove me away," mutters Miss Hot- 
 head. She shakes off Marina's hand that would draw 
 her from her fascination, and bets more recklessly than 
 ever. And now fortune leaves her entirely ; and goes 
 from bad to worse until she must stop, because her last 
 louis has been staked and lost. But Barnes is still look- 
 ing earnestly at the girl ; she thinks, with a lurking smile ; 
 so, she whispers hurriedly to Marina, 
 
 " Certainly ! " says the latter, " you know what I have 
 is yours ; all English are rich, I believe ; but you must 
 be very wealthy to lose as you lose ! " 
 
 Enid borrows from the Corsican an amount equal to 
 what she has left behind her at the hotel. " This I can 
 pay to-morrow ! " replies the English girl, and will take 
 no more. But this she bets very wildly, and in a few 
 minutes says to Marina, " It is the last, and it is gone 1 H 
 
122 MR. BARNES OF NEW YORK. * 
 
 Then, looking about for fear Barnes may be near and sec 
 her misfortune, she whispers, " Come, let us go home , 
 I'm tired of bad luck !" 
 
 So the two walk to the hotel together in the moonlight, 
 attended by Tomasso, who is like his mistress' shadow 
 in this wicked place, though perhaps he may have had 
 Ms orders from Count Danella, who never forgets any- 
 Ihing. 
 
 " Will you come up to my nxnn and get your money, 
 Marina," says Miss Anstruther, " or shall I pay you in 
 \he morning 1 " 
 
 " At your leisure, mia amiga ! " and the Corsican girl 
 kisses the English one ; then after a little, murmurs, 
 * You are like your brother ; he is reckless also 1 " 
 
 "Oh ! my losses are a mere bagatelle /" replies Misg 
 Anstruther, airily, for she has a fearful pride in her this 
 night ; and goes up the the stairs rery haughtily. But, 
 getting to her own room, this mere bagatelle makes her 
 sigh and shudder and give a little groan. She has 
 squandered her quarter's allowance ; she has drawn 
 every franc of her letter of credit. She remembers she 
 has unpaid bills. When she has given Marina her money 
 in the morning, she will have to borrow from Lady 
 Chartris, and Lady Chartris, she knows, is a most un- 
 comfortable woman from whom to borrow. Then she 
 thinks of the cause of all her woe. Oh, if he had not 
 said cruel things to her about her passion for gambling 
 but she forgives him ; it was that awful woman. And 
 she imagines La Belle Blackwood as a kind of female 
 dragon, devouring innocent youths that look like Mr. 
 Barnes, and cries out to herself, " The horrid monster I 
 I could kill her ! " and clenches her fist as if to do it. 
 
 But here this chivalrous feminine Saint George utters 
 a suppressed shriek, her doubty knees smite together 
 and she nearly faints ; for in the subdued light of the 
 room, concealed under the clothes of her bed, she sees a 
 hidden form, a burglar, or a man or something, and is 
 about to let forth a cry that will raise the hotel, when 
 Maud Chartris puts her curly head from under the sheets, 
 and in a pathetic whisper says, " Enid ! don't shriek ; it's 
 only me ! Don't scream, but forgive me 1" 
 
 " What are you doing here ? you frightful child ! Get 
 cut of my bed ! " 
 
MR. BARNES OF NEW YORK. I2J 
 
 " Not till you swear you won't tell ma ! " Here Miss 
 Chartris begins to sob, and Enid can see the child is 
 really in earnest. " Tell your ma what ? " 
 
 " Tell her that I stole I borrowed all your money ! " 
 
 " My rouleau of gold ? " gasps Enid, rushing to hei 
 irawer and opening it, tremblingly. 
 
 "Yes ! You needn't look there ; it's all gone ! " 
 
 "Wretch! you have stolen my honor!" cries Miss 
 Anstruther, in a voice like Lady Macbeth's, and seizes 
 the child who has brought despair upon her, and drags 
 her to the floor, where she lies groveling for mercy among 
 the bedclothes she has carried with her, for her victim's 
 face and manner almost paralyze this youthful culprit. 
 
 " Where has it gone ? How have you lost it ? " 
 
 " I played it away at roulette; you bragged to me last 
 night how you won money, and I thought I could win too, 
 and so I borrowed it and and lost it to-night after 
 dinner, and swear you won't tell ma ! She'll kill me 
 she'll !" Here Miss Chartris becomes inaudible for sobs. 
 
 " My Heaven ! I must have that money to-morrow ! I 
 must borrow it from your mother ! " 
 
 " Borrow it from ma f ' ' a howl of apprehension on the 
 last word, " It'll all come out ! If she knows she's got to 
 pay back money I stole, she'll I darsen't think I 
 shall be sent back to England ! Oh, Enid ! Mercy I 
 Don't tell her ! Don't ! Don't 1 " and the frightened crim- 
 inal goes into another convulsion of despair. 
 
 A moment's reflection shows Enid that Maud is cer- 
 tainly correct as to the pains and penalties that will come 
 upon her if her mother discovers ; for, if there is one 
 crime in the Decalogue that Lady Chartris would visit 
 upon her guilty offspring in a fearful manner, it would 
 be the one that compelled her to pay out money for that 
 fault. Even in all her own misery Enid can't help pity- 
 ing the miserable child, whose crime she grimly thinks is 
 not much worse than her own, as she looks at her sob- 
 bing at her feet. She takes her in her arms and soothes 
 her and says, " Maud, darling, you need not fear ; your 
 mother shall never know 1 " 
 
 "Promise?" 
 
 "Yes!" 
 
 " Then you're a brick ! " She has learnt this slang 
 from Mr. Barnes. And Maud becoming smiles again, 
 
124 MR. BARNES OF NEW YORK. 
 
 for she knows Enid's word is her bond, takes to kissing 
 that young lady, who is very miserable and sits in a 
 stunned way, giving little gasps of despair. After a little 
 Miss Anstruther begins to sigh, and say, " What shall I 
 do I must have the money 1 " 
 
 " Must you have the money to-morrow, Enid?" 
 
 Of course I must why do you bother me?" says 
 the young lady helplessly. 
 
 " Well, then I'll get it for you .'" cries Maud, who has 
 hidden herself in the bed without removing any article of 
 her dress, springing eagerly up. 
 
 " Get it for me? What nonsense ! How?" asks Enid, 
 only half heeding her. 
 
 "Borrow it from Barnes!" screams Maud, and darts 
 from the room. 
 
 These fearful words fly through Miss Anstruthet 
 like an electric shock ! There could be no shame, no 
 degradation like that. She rushes after the girl calling 
 to her wildly to come back. 
 
 It is only ten o'clock and the grounds are pretty full 
 of people, and Miss Anstruther cannot catch sight of the 
 child, though she even leaves the hotel to do so; for the 
 horrible thought of what Maud means to do makes every 
 nerve in her body tingle with an agony of humiliation. 
 "Borrow it from Barnes! Borrow it from Barnes!" 
 sings in her ears, and every throb of her heart brings a 
 flush of deeper shame to her face. 
 
 So it comes to pass that Enid, after wandering about 
 the grounds for a few minutes, returns to the house to 
 find herself confronted by Maud, who has Mr. Barnt 
 the hand and has just been explaining something to him 
 in a very eager and excited manner. 
 
 Miss Anstruther comes straight up to them ; there is a 
 high color on her cheeks and a sparkle in her eye, as she 
 *ays, very angrily to Maud, "Do not dare to speak 
 another word go up-stairs and go to bed, or I shall for- 
 get the promise I made you ! " 
 
 The object of her speech gives one look at her, col- 
 lapses and shrinks into the house, and the young lady 
 turns to Mr. Barnes. 
 
 That gentleman as he looks at her has a kind of an 
 inspiration that his fate will be settled within the next 
 five minutes. He knows, if he wounds her pride in the 
 
MR. BARNES OF NEW YORK. 32J 
 
 slightest, Enid Anstruther will never speak to him again ; 
 so he waits for her to begin, wondering if this is the last 
 time he will ever hear her voice. 
 
 " What has that child been saying to you about me ? " 
 The question is put most uncompromisingly, and Barnes 
 knows it is best to answer it truly. So he gives a little 
 account of what Maud has told him, which is simply a 
 statement of what had occurred in her room. " As I 
 understood her/' he adds, " Maud had taken, unknown 
 to you, a sum of money of which you were in need to- 
 morrow ; if you asked Lady Chartris to lend you the 
 money, she feared her mother would discover her fault, 
 and you being anxious to save the child from punishment 
 had promised her not to apply to her mother, and so she 
 came to me I " 
 
 " Of course you know I did not send her on such an 
 errand ! " 
 
 " Of course not ! " says Barnes promptly. 
 
 "Certainly not after the way you have treated me ! " 
 continues Enid with a reproach in her voice. 
 
 She has opened the argument ; Barnes knows she 
 hesitates and that he has her, and disarms her with this 
 speech : " You are right ; I apologize for the injustice 
 I did you the other evening. I reproached you because 
 in the Casino you spoke to a woman unworthy of your 
 notice. Your innocence could not know her by sight, 
 my wickedness did ; but like most men of the world, I 
 have been, perhaps, a little careless, for I have had noth- 
 ing to anchor me to goodness." 
 
 This is very cunning, as Barnes says nothing of his 
 warning Enid against her passion for gambling, in which 
 he was all right, and only speaks of the La Belle Black- 
 wood side of the episode in which he was all wrong. 
 
 He gets the advantage of this in the girl's reply, " Yes 
 but men have so many temptations ! " 
 
 " So we have ! " says Mr. Barnes, " if I had been poor 
 I might have been better." 
 
 " I do not regard wealth as such an evil ! " says Miss 
 Anstruther. 
 
 " Nor I, at present ! ' echoes Barnes, " for it enables 
 me to do something that will make me very happy if you 
 will permit it. Won't you tell me exactly how I can aid 
 you in this matter, 1: -vhich you have treated Maud so 
 
X6 MR BARNES OF NEW YORK. 
 
 nobly ? Come out for a little walk, we will be more alon 
 on the grounds I " 
 
 Miss Anstruther finds it hard to be very angry with 
 him, and they go off together. 
 
 " Now," he says, " you consented to accept a service 
 from me in Lyons, when you knew me not as well as you 
 do now; will you hesitate to do me a like honor this 
 evening?" 
 
 This reminds the girl of his consideration for her, 
 during the embarrassments of her railway journey ; she 
 grows very tender towards him, and tells him all her 
 troubles of the last two days, and he arranges her money 
 difficulties in an easy off-hand manner, that takes all 
 embarrassment from her. She is to write to her brother ; 
 and when he sends her the funds as he is sure to do 
 she will repay Mr. Barnes. 
 
 This agony being off her hands, her spirits seem to 
 leap from bondage, and she is more charming than ever 
 she has been to him before, perhaps because she is a 
 little more self-conscious in her manner and blushes once 
 or twice when she looks at him, as they come back to 
 the hotel. " Then," says Mr. Barnes, "you prefer being 
 under obligations to me rather than to Mademoiselle 
 Paoli?" 
 
 Y-e-s, a little !" bashfully. 
 
 "And you like me better than you did the other even- 
 ing 
 
 "Very much!" 
 
 "And why?" 
 
 " Because you haven't scolded me when to-night I 
 really deserve it; for I have been a gambler for the last 
 two days and was in awful trouble if you hadn't helped 
 me oh, why are you so kind to me ? " And desperately 
 fearing an answer to this question, Enid runs up-stairs; 
 but before going to her own room opens softly the door 
 of the wicked Chartris infant, and stealing up to her 
 gives that sleeping criminal a most affectionate kiss. 
 
 Barnes looks out of his window and wonders why 
 Monaco is such a jolly place, and says, " To-morrow ! " 
 s if he meant it to be a very important day in his life. 
 
MR. BARNES OF NEW YORK. I3f 
 
 CHAPTER XIV. 
 
 THE TELEGRAM FROM GIBRALTAR. 
 
 THE next day is a very bright one at Monaco; the sun 
 rises gloriously in all its Mediterranean splendor, perhaps 
 a little too warm when not tempered by the gentle sea- 
 breeze of the Riviera, but, in the shade of the olive trees 
 and ilex, the temperature is perfect. It would be ro- 
 mantic to any one not dead to all the charms of nature, 
 but to Barnes, as he dresses himself, looking out of his 
 window on the quiet scene, it seems an inspiration. He 
 mutters " To-day!" to himself; then looks at his hand to 
 see if it is as steady as usual, and proudly says, " Not a 
 tremor ! " though what he means by this it would be dif- 
 ficult for any one but himself to tell. 
 
 Miss Anstruther comes down to breakfast She has 
 no headache this morning, and gives him one or two 
 flashes of the eye and several little blushes in a curious, 
 wistful, pathetic sort of manner, though she seems in a 
 kind of half fright and doesn't eat very much. 
 
 Towards the end of the meal Lady Chartris says, " You 
 have lost your appetite, Enid ! " 
 
 "'Yes ! and I know what caused it ! " this last comes 
 from Maud, who has regained her spirits over night. 
 " It's because of that letter you got this morning, ma ! 
 That tells that * the other one ' is coming ! " 
 
 " The other one ? " says the girl's mother. " I don't 
 understand oh ! ah ! yes ! Lord Ferris 1 " and then, 
 seeing she has made a slip of the tongue for Miss An- 
 struther is a very red color, and Barnes is cutting his 
 beefsteak as savagely as if he were operating upon * the 
 other one ' in person Lady Chartris turns upon h^r too 
 candid offspring, and in a voice that carries dismay to 
 that young lady, remarks, " Have I not told you, Maud, 
 never to read my letters ! Go up-stairs and go to bed ! " 
 
 " Ma, I haven't had any breakfast 1 " 
 
 " Go up-stairs ! " 
 
 " Ma ! I haven't " 
 
 " Obey me ! " 
 
 Ma a ! " This last is a wail ot angufefc k Jie 
 distance. 
 
128 MR. BARNES OF NEW YORK. 
 
 Barnes looks up and finds Miss Anstruther gone also. 
 Arising, he steps out onto the balcony, and lighting a 
 cigar, after a puff or two, says to himself, " No time like 
 the present ! " then walks into the gardens of the Casino. 
 Here, after looking about for some little time, he sees 
 the fluttering of a dress he knows on the most retired 
 part of the terrace : and, following it, throw aways his 
 
 weed, and says very gently, " Enid I M 
 
 * * ' * * * * 
 
 Thus it comes to pass that half an hour afterward 
 Maud Chartris bursts into Marina's room and whispers 
 to her in a hoarse voice, " Don't cry out ! Ma thinks 
 I'm in bed ! But go down and save Enid 1 " 
 
 " Save Enid ! From what ? " cries the beautiful C 
 can, springing up, her eyes brightening at the thought of 
 danger to one she lo 
 
 From that fearful Mr. Barnes! He's making her, 
 cry behind the olive trees on the terrace I " 
 
 44 What do you mean ? " 
 
 ' 4 I mean that he's engaged to her! Its awful ! I 
 I " (the child is panting from excitement) " had never 
 seen a girl asked to marry before I knew he was up to 
 it ; and so, instead of going to bed, I I sneaked down 
 the other way and followed him, and Oh ! they fright- 
 ened me ! " 
 
 At this, Marina laughs a little, and then sighs. 
 
 \Vhen I first saw them, from behind some rose-bushes, 
 he was a little way from her, and she was shooting such 
 flashes from her eyes at him that I thought she would 
 frighten him away. But he is very brave, he is, and he 
 came near to her and said three words, ' 1 love you I ' 
 and they nearly knocked her down ; for she got all limp 
 and would have fallen, but he caught her and held her 
 to him. And then she began to say, ' How he astonished 
 her 1 ' which was a lie and he whispered something 1 
 couldn't catch, but it seemed to knock her out of time, 
 and she sneaked at him just one look that seemed to set 
 htm crazy." 
 
 " And Enid said nothing?" asks Marina, excitedly. 
 
 44 How could she open her lips when he was kissing 
 her so ? Then he asked her something about a mouth, 
 and she cried, ' Oh, no ! not so soon ! ' And then he 
 said, * Two months ! ' And she said, ' Do as you W'ii , 
 
MR. BARNES OF NEW YORK, 129 
 
 you nave robbed me of my heart only don't break it by 
 giving it back to me ! ' I learnt that last sentence com- 
 ing up here I thought it would be nice to say myself, 
 some day ! " 
 
 "But here Marina suddenly quiets the loquacious Maud 
 with this astounding invective, " Not another word, you 
 miserable one ! You have desecrated with your eyes the 
 holy mystery of a woman's life, and told me of it !" 
 
 " I a thought you wanted to hear ! Why, you were 
 pumping me ! " 
 
 " Of such a secret ? Never ! Get to your apartment, 
 and if I see your face again to-day your mother shall 
 know of your atrocity ! Away ! " And she sends the 
 infant prodigy sobbing to bed with a fierce glance of her 
 Corsican eyes and a majestic wave of her hand. 
 
 Marina has a woman's curiosity and a woman's con- 
 science ; Maud had tempted her curiosity, and she did 
 eat, but, having gorged herself, conscience reigned in 
 her once more ; and she turned upon the creature who 
 had tempted her, as Eve, the first woman, did upon the 
 serpent. 
 
 The child's last sob having vanished in the distance, 
 Marina sheds a little tear herself. Her eyes are still red 
 from this exercise when Miss Anstruther walks coolly 
 in ; though there is a blush on her face and her hair is a 
 little out of trim, as she says, " Why did you not come 
 with me for my walk after breakfast ? " 
 
 " So you went alone ? " asks Marina, gazing at her 
 curiously. 
 
 "Yes ; but at the last, Burton I mean, Mr. Barnes 
 *,ook pity on my loneliness, and why do you look at me 
 so ? Heavens ! whose been telling you ? " This last is 
 given almost hysterically. 
 
 "Maud!" 
 
 " Maud ? How did she know ? " 
 
 " She saw ! " 
 
 " Great Heavens ! She did not see him kiss ? Oh! 
 Marina ! I that fearful child ! I must find her ? She'll 
 tell the hotel. Oh ! what shall I do ! " 
 
 Tears of mortification and shame are in Enid's eyes ; 
 she is about to run from the room to seize upon this fe- 
 male Peeping Tom and bribe her with kindness or terrify 
 her with threats, when Marina puts her arm round her 
 
130 MR, BARNES OF NEW YORK. 
 
 and says, " I've silenced Maud she's in bed for all day ; 
 and now tell me you love him, Carissima f " 
 
 " Love him ? Do you suppose I'd marry him in two 
 months if I didn't ! " 
 
 " Two months would be a long time for me to wait, if 
 I were you ! " 
 
 " Yes ! You're a Corsican ; you'd marry him in a month, 
 as he wanted me to do you'd be as impetuous as he 
 you'd suit him." With this Miss Anstruther gives her a 
 second-hand kiss of Mr. Barnes, saying, " I have to leave 
 you now ; I must write a letter telling my brother Oh ! 
 how shall I do it ? It is an awful thing to be engaged ! " 
 and runs away. 
 
 Meantime Mr. Barnes has walked up and demanded 
 the attention of Lady Chartris, and got it, from the very 
 depths of her soul. 
 
 " My dear M adam," he opens, " would you do me a 
 favor ; just write to Lord Ferris you know where he is 
 at present ? " 
 
 " Yes ! " murmurs the matron, " He is in Nice to-day ; 
 to-morrow he will be here." 
 
 "Precisely," continues the American; "write to him in 
 Nice, and incidently mention in your letter, in a sort of 
 casual, off-hand manner, that Enid is engaged to marry 
 me." 
 
 ' Engaged to marry you t " Lady Chartris repeats these 
 words after him in a scream of astonishment. 
 
 " Ves within two months ! " 
 
 Within two months 1" 
 
 * I thought it just as well that Lord Ferris knew it, 
 as it might save Enid some embarrassment, and that 
 gentleman a useless journey, with disappointment at the 
 end of it ; besides it was a duty to you as Miss An* 
 truther's chaperon to tell you at once!" 
 
 "And Enid preferred you to a lord ? " gasps Lady 
 Chartris, for a Lord is a big thing in her eyes, as her 
 dead husband had only been a knight. 
 
 " She had that peculiar taste ! " 
 
 " Very well ! I presume you have enough to support 
 her in the style in which she has been accustomed to live ? 
 You will excuse my asking the question, but Enid is very 
 young, and I feel responsible to her brother for her not 
 making a mistake under mv charg 
 
MR. BARNES OF NEW YORK. 131 
 
 " Certainly ! " says Barnes. " You have a perfect right 
 to be answered on that point ! " 
 
 " Very well ! " here Lady Chartris becomes grandly 
 important, "What are your expectations?" 
 
 " Expectations ? Ah ! Oh, of money I suppose you 
 mean ? I haven't any ! " 
 
 " No expectations ? And you come here to marry a 
 girl that was the belle of the last London season , whose 
 family is one of the oldest in England, and who might 
 make a grand match 1 " 
 
 " I've something better than expectations, I've the 
 cash ! " says Barnes slowly. 
 
 ' What is your income ? " says the matron curiously. 
 
 * About sixty thousand a year ! " 
 
 * Pounds 1" almost screams Lady Chartris. 
 
 ' No ! only dollars, I am sorry to say ; but it's enough ! " 
 
 'Enough ! I should say it was. Well, Burton I sup- 
 pose I must call you Burton now you know Enid is my 
 cousin ; you've got the best girl in England and I hope 
 you'll make her happy Sixty thousand dollars ; that's 
 twelve thousand pounds a year of course you'll make 
 her happy. If I wasn't so young I'd kiss you ; but it 
 might make your fiancee jealous 1 " and she shakes his 
 hand very cordially. 
 
 Mr. Barnes is well pleased that Lady Chartris is too 
 young to kiss him, but it sets him to thinking of his be- 
 trothed, and he says, " Lady Chartris, would you be kind 
 enough to send Enid to me, here ; and give us the use of 
 your parlor for a little time ? I wish to speak to her on a 
 matter of business ! " 
 
 " Of course on a matter of business ? " and the frisky 
 widow gives a little laugh. 
 
 " Yes ! " echoes Barnes sternly, " Business / I want to 
 tell her we have your consent ! " 
 
 This deference to her authority makes Lady Chartris 
 his ally at once, and she says, " You can have my parlor 
 as long as you want, dear Mr. Barnes ! " then goes off to 
 do his bidding. 
 
 As he waits the coming of his love, that gentleman 
 reflects that having got his own affair pretty well in hand, 
 he had better settle his doubts in regard to Enid's brother, 
 and goes to speculating on that mystery. 
 
 His reverie is disturbed by a small hand being laicj 
 
Ija MR. BARNES OF NEW YORK, 
 
 upon his arm and a soft voice whispering, " What do yo< 
 want me for?" 
 
 He imprisons the hand asking, " Have you the letter 
 written for your brother?" 
 
 "Yes! Here it is !" and Miss Anstruther hands it to 
 him. 
 
 " I sent mine off half an hour ago," remarks Barnes, 
 " for we've got to be rushing things I" He rings the bell 
 and gives the epistle to the servant to post. 
 
 "And now I suppose that is all Bur-ton?" 
 
 It is the first time she has ever called him by his 
 Christian name, though the girl blushes and hesitates, 
 she lingers over it as if she loves it ; yet, having said it, 
 turns bashfully and makes a show of going to the door. 
 
 " Not by a great deal ! " cries Barnes, catching her in 
 her retreat, 
 
 "No?" 
 
 * First," he laughs a little, " tell me why you stanv 
 mered so over my name don't you like it ?" 
 
 "Oh ! what makes you ask such questions? Don't you 
 know it was the first time Burton ? " here she gives a 
 tremendous blush. 
 
 " Yes you said it much better the second time ! " says 
 he meditatively. " Do you know that Lady Chartris has 
 loaned me this parlor for an hour, and you're to spend 
 the whole of it here ! " 
 
 " As I am to be your slave in two months, I presume 
 I'd better learn obedience at once ! " She says this with a 
 very resigned expression, and permits him to seat her on 
 the sofa beside him. 
 
 " And now I wish to speak to you very seriously, Enid !" 
 
 Here her eyes open in astonishment, as she turns 
 them on him in a pathetic way that sets his heart to beat- 
 ing, and cries, " Speak to me seriously ! I what have I 
 done ? you're, you're not going to scold me ! Oh ! you 
 must have enchanted me ! I, who but yesterday was 
 proud I oh, if you ever treat me unkindly ! " 
 
 Now this kind of mood requires consolation, and after 
 Barnes has consoled his fiarute, until they are both in 
 the seventh Heaven of happiness he remarks, " Apro- 
 pos of obedience, I want to ask you a very serious 
 question ! " 
 
 "Yes!" 
 
MR. BARNES OF NEW YORK. 133 
 
 " I want you to tell me what you meant by making 
 love to a man in Marina's picture at Paris, and then say- 
 ing it was a ruse? 5 ' he asks this with intense earnestness, 
 and receives a scream of laughter for reply. After a 
 minute Miss Anstruther manages to gasp, " Why 1 you're 
 jealous of that creature on canvas ! " 
 
 " Not a bit! but all the same, I've a curiosity to know! " 
 
 " Well, Mrs. Vavassour was teasing me about my my 
 affection for a certain gentleman Lord you know 
 'the other one ' he's her nephew, and as she is a most 
 persistent woman, I stopped her by telling her my heart 
 was gone selected the most harmless individual I could 
 find to throw away my affections upon and it was the 
 ugly man of the canvas ! " 
 
 " Was that all?" 
 
 " Oh ! now you are jealous ! this is delightful ! Do 
 you know that at times," here she looks at Barnes closely, 
 " you rather remind me of him ! " 
 
 " Much obliged for your kind compliment ! May I 
 ask you another question ? " 
 
 " What, not satisfied ? still jealous ! I'm afraid you 
 will be my Bluebeard ! " 
 
 " No, I am not jealous ! Some day you'll know that I 
 could not be jealous of him ! But you were interested 
 in the picture before that what made you so t " 
 
 The laughter leaves Enid's face ; she hesitates a mo- 
 ment and then says, " I know I ought to have no secrets 
 from you Burton ! but it is not my secret, it is an- 
 other's." 
 
 " Very well, tell me what you can without compromis- 
 ing any one," says Mr. Barnes. " Believe me, I don't ask 
 without a reason." 
 
 " What reason ? " asks Miss Anstruther, who has now 
 become curious herself. 
 
 Here the gentleman counters her with, " I know I 
 ought to have no secrets from you, Enid, but it is not 
 my secret; it is another's." 
 
 "Ah," cries the young lady, "A secret tell me all 
 about it!" 
 
 " First answer my question." 
 
 " Well, it was a letter from Egypt that interested me in 
 the picture; it described a duel, with a lucky penny epi- 
 sode in it, something like the one on the canvas; but ths 
 
IJ4 MR. BARNES OF NEW YORK. 
 
 encounter in my letter did not end fatally for either 
 combatant." 
 
 " The letter came from your brother, I suppose." 
 
 " I you see, I hardly like to tell you." 
 
 " Oh, then it did not come from your brother ? From 
 some other man I've no doubt ! " 
 
 " Yes, it did come from my brother, you jealous crea- 
 ture," says Miss Anstruther with a little laugh. 
 
 "Do you know the principal of the duel?" 
 
 " No ! Edwin did not tell me in fact he asked me to 
 say nothing about the affair ; as if it were known, it 
 wtmld bring the officer to a court-martial. You know 
 he couldn't get his comrade into a scrape." 
 
 "Of course not" 
 
 " And now why did you want to know ? " 
 
 " I was jealous," says Barnes, telling a story, for he is 
 now more than ever certain that his suspicions in regard 
 to Edwin Anstruther are correct ; but he feels he cannot 
 tell Enid her brother has the blood of a fellow-creature 
 on his soul ; and decides in his mind that Edwin and 
 Marina must never meet again. 
 
 "Jealous 1" says the girl, "jealous, first of a canvas 
 man, then of a man in a letter ! oh, what a life I shall 
 lead you don't you know I am a flirt? " 
 
 I've no doubt you used to be! but now," replies 
 Barnes, attempting an Othello expression of the face, 
 44 you have reformed." 
 
 "Perhaps ! " remarks Enid, " I haven't got tired of you 
 yet I've only known you a week." 
 
 " Yes, just a week ago, you were cutting me in the 
 most severe manner on the railway train between Paris 
 and Tonnerre," says Barnes looking at his watch. 
 
 " A week ago I didn't know you ! and yet was happy 
 now if I didn't know you, life would be a blank to 
 me!" 
 
 " Oh ! there would still be the other one ! ' " laughs 
 Barnes airily. 
 
 At this he receives a glance of such reproach from 
 Enid's eyes that he feels he owes her reparation ; and 
 there takes place between them a little poem of sentiment 
 at which cynics would sneer ; but that they enjoy so 
 thoroughly that Lady Chartris finds Mr. Barnes* bus: 
 interview with hisjfans/e a vy*v long one 
 
MR, BARNES OF NEW YORK. 135 
 
 A week, shortened by happiness, soon flies round for 
 these two lovers, when, returning one evening from a 
 drive with Miss Anstruther, Mr. Barnes finds waiting for 
 Vim a letter from that young lady's brother. The min- 
 uie he opens it he knows that it has been written by a 
 thoroughly nice fellow. The communication reads as 
 follows : 
 
 "II. M. S. Sealark, 
 "GIBRALTAR, May 14, 1883. ' 
 " My Dear Barnes. 
 
 44 You ask my consent to your marriage with my sister. I grant it 
 for these reasons : First ; her letter to me of the same date, says she 
 is in love with you ; and that you are the one man in the world that 
 can make her happy which is all I ask, as she is very dear to 
 me. Second ; if you approach reasonably near to the idea of manly 
 perfection that I know Enid holds, in regard to the being worthy to be 
 her mate, you must be a very fine fellow ; and, I am sure, I shall be 
 pleased with you when I meet you, which will be in England in about 
 two weeks, as the Sealark is ordered home. 
 
 " Now, in regard to business : Enid has ,20,000 settled on her. I 
 am sure you will wish this settlement to remain unbroken. 
 
 " I have no objection to my sister's marrying an American, who is 
 rich enough to visit England with her ; and, from your statement of 
 your means, you and she will be able to live pretty well, how, and 
 where you please. 
 
 44 The financial arrangements you propose are more generous than 
 I or my sister ought to expect or ask. As your letter indicates that 
 you both are apparently anxious to sail in company as soon as possible, 
 you had better, on receipt of this, leave at once for London, and there 
 see H. Mortimer, Solicitor, No. 14 Cornhill. He has been our 
 family man of business for a generation or more ; I have written to 
 him in regard to you, and any settlement satisfactory to him will be 
 the same to me. Enid will return to England under the charge of 
 Lady Chartris, who I believe goes home in about three weeks. 
 
 '* Wishing you all happiness and congratulating you on having wo 
 tht best girl in all England and the dearest of sisters to me, I am, 
 Yours most affectionately, 
 
 44 EDWIN G. ANSTRUTHER.* 
 
 This letter is exactly what Mr. Barnes wishes. He 
 takes it to his lady-love, and hands it to her without 
 comment. As she reads, she says impulsively, " The 
 dear fellow ! " and then, after a little pause of considera- 
 tion, " You notice he takes it for granted that you are 
 worthy of me ; I think he must have met you before ! " 
 
 This is precisely what has been in Barnes* modest 
 mind also. " I agree with you I suppose you've lots of 
 his pictures in England." 
 
t$6 MR. BARNES OP NEW YORK. 
 
 "Yes!" 
 
 " Tell me where I'll find one so I may know if you 
 are correct." 
 
 " You are awfully impatient ; but, if you are at Beech- 
 wood, look in the large photograph album in the draw- 
 ing-room, and you'll find his face the third picture in 
 the book 
 
 " Very well ; I'm going to England to-morrow, 1 
 have a look at him ! " 
 
 " To-morrow ? " Miss Anstruther gives a gasp. 
 
 " Yes ! I've got no time to lose ; only six weeks now 
 to our wedding 1" he replies, with a longing look that 
 makes the young lady blush. 
 
 " Then this is our last evening together for for two 
 weeks ! " the girl says despondingly. 
 
 " I suppose you couldn't get Lady Chartris to come on 
 at once ? " suggests Barnes, eagerly. 
 
 " Til try ! " cries Enid, and runs off, but shortly re- 
 turns pouting, and mutters with a sigh, u The selfish 
 thing ! She doesn't want to go home till the first of 
 June ; she has painters and plumbers in her house 1" 
 
 Well, I don't blame her for fleeing from plumbers I" 
 laughs Barnes, " so let's make the best of our evening on 
 the terrace I " And the two wander off. 
 
 The thought of his leaving her makes his sweetheart 
 even more tender than she has ever been before. She 
 entrances Mr. Barnes with one or two little views of the 
 inner sanctuary of her heart ; and on part ing says, " I am 
 to meet you to-morrow at breakfast, so I shaVt say 
 good-bye ! " but as he takes her in his arms to kiss her, 
 she gives him a sensation ! Enid Anstruther has per- 
 mitted his caresses ever since she accepted his love ; 
 still, up to this moment, she has never kissed him ; and 
 now with a great rush of tender passion, she places two 
 fairy lips upon his, then breaks from his arms, runs up- 
 stairs and disappears, leaving Mr. Barnes alone on the 
 balcony in such a blissful state of mind that for five min- 
 utes he hesitates to destroy the remembrance of that kiss 
 by desecrating his own lips with a cigar. 
 
 He has hardly done this, however, when two great 
 passionate eyes glare at him in the darkness, and a soft, 
 southern voice, made hoarse by anger, whispers in hii 
 car, * You cruel one I * 
 
MR. BARNES OF NEW YORK. 133 
 
 u I I beg your pardon, Mademoiselle Paoli," he says 
 urith a start, " I scarcely understand you ! " 
 
 44 But you shall ! You have stolen from me my friend. 
 I never see Enid now ! You have caused her to desert 
 me when I am alone and desolate ! " 
 
 This accusation is true. Mr. Barnes has prevented 
 Miss Anstruther giving Marina during the past week 
 more than a few hasty words. He has diplomatically 
 arranged \i\s fianctfs days so that the two girls come but 
 little together ; for, though he has said nothing to Enid, 
 he has feared an intimacy that might lead to Marina's 
 once more meeting Edwin Anstruther. 
 
 Before he can answer, the Corsican bursts out again: 
 " Is it because I am not worthy to associate with your 
 northern love ? Would I do her a harm because I am 
 unhappy ? Have I ever said anything but good of you ? 
 Or do you look upon me as one accursed because I have 
 that vow upon my soul ? " 
 
 The American considers a moment, and then says, 
 slowly, " While you have the passions of an assassin, you 
 are not worthy to associate with the woman that is to be 
 my wife. Your brother's last wish upon earth was, that 
 his death should not ruin your life. You are better 
 fitted to love and be blessed, than to hate and be ac- 
 cursed ! " 
 
 " God knows," she murmurs, " how I have tried to 
 think as you do. How I have watched you and your 
 dear one, who love and are so happy ; as a lost spirit has 
 looked on a Paradise that she can never enter. You are 
 one of the blessed ; be merciful to me an outcast and do 
 not rob me of the only friend I have on earth ! " 
 
 " You have Danella ! " says Barnes, shortly ; for the 
 girl's despair and loneliness affect him, and he is anxious 
 to end the interview. 
 
 " Danella ! " cries the girl. " That devil whose one hope 
 is my despair. He who knows that until I have no other 
 refuge upon earth will I turn to him and his love ! I 
 cannot understand him ! I loathe him ! I dread him ! " 
 Her voice is tremulous with some unknown fear, and her 
 beautiful form shudders with apprehension. 
 
 " Then, let me advise you," says Barnes, more tenderly, 
 for no man could look on such despairing loveliness un 
 moved, " to destroy DaneUa's hopes at OQCC, by giving, 
 
138 MR. BARNKS OF NEW YORK. 
 
 op a pursuit in which success means greater mi*e*/ than 
 failure ! " 
 
 " Ah ! You would have me go back to my de*r native 
 island to be the scorn of my neighbors ; to have them 
 sing the Rimbecco to me ; to hear them cry, ' A Paoli has 
 forgotten she is a Corsican ! Her brother is murdered, 
 and his slayer lives!' No! no! I could not endure 
 that ! Go your way ! I will go mine ! Your northern 
 lily shall not be sullied by contact with a woman who has 
 murder in her heart!" And she leaves him proudly ; 
 but, on getting from his sight, begins to pant with de- 
 spair, and finally, staggering to her room, finds a tele* 
 gram waiting for her, that reads : 
 
 * You may have hope ! 
 
 ; ' DAN ELLA." 
 
 " Hope ! there is no hope for me ! Others may love 
 and be happy, but I, who hate, am accursed ! " cries the 
 girl, and she throws herself down and struggles and 
 writhes in an agony of despair, untii sleep, which is 
 kind to those who suffer, comes to her and gives her 
 peace. 
 
 CHAPTER XV. 
 
 AT LAST f 
 
 LEAVING on the morning train necessitates an early 
 breakfast ; but Mr. Barnes finds Miss Anstruther at the 
 table before him, looking very pretty, but somewhat out 
 of her usual good temper. " See ! " she cries, " mis- 
 fortunes never come singly ; you are going away from 
 me, and Marina sends me this ! " as she exhibits a little 
 three-cornered note. 
 
 "Well, what does it contain?" 
 
 "Awful news!" 
 
 "Awful news?" Barnes' face lengthens. 
 
 " Two days ago when I asked her to be one of my 
 bridesmaids, she promised to come to dear old England 
 and see the last of Enid Anstruther ; now she sends me 
 this, which tells me that she will be nnable to accept my 
 
MR. BARNES OP NEW YORK. 139 
 
 Invitation. That's awful news, isn't it I" says Enid, 
 with a little pout. 
 
 " Oh ! that's the matter ! " answers Barnes quite re- 
 lieved, thinking of the narrow escape Marina has had of 
 meeting Edwin again, and blessing last night's interview 
 for what it had brought about this morning. He is too 
 wise, however, to express this view to Enid, who would 
 have given him a pretty battle if she had guessed that to 
 him she owed her friend's refusal ; so, noticing the 
 troubled expression on his fiances face, he continues, 
 rather nonchalantly, " Don't you know some girl in Eng- 
 land that will act in her place ?" 
 
 "The idea! Of course I know hundreds; but I 
 wanted htr I You look as if you were rather pleased 
 than otherwise. How would you like to be disappointed 
 after you'd been promised ? How would you feel if I 
 changed my mind in regard to being the bride ? Do you 
 know some girl in England that would act in my place?" 
 echoes Enid in superb scorn. 
 
 Now, there is only one way to answer his fianctc's 
 question, and Barnes does this so much to her satisfac- 
 tion that Marina is soon forgotten in the pleasant misery 
 of saying good-bye. Miss Anstruther goes with him to 
 the railway station ; and, though she has promised her- 
 self to act the Spartan maiden, at the last moment for- 
 gets resolution, and favors her lover with some most pa- 
 thetic tears, that glisten in her bright blue eyes like dew 
 upon morning violets ; then tells him that she has a pre- 
 sentiment that they may never meet again, which over- 
 comes her, and after glancing about the compartment 
 being empty she throws all pride away, and, giving him 
 a hurried kiss, whispers, " My own ! If we were only 
 married that I might never leave you ! " pressing some- 
 thing in his hand, by which he is to remember her ; and 
 so sends him away sad, but also proud and happy, look- 
 ing at her gift, which is a locket containing his sweet- 
 heart's face and a lock of her sunny hair. 
 
 Mr. Barnes, as soon as he has seen the last of her, pro- 
 ceeds to take an inventory of all he has left of the two 
 brightest weeks of his life, and finds it consists of a little 
 glove he has stolen from her, a pocket-handkerchief like- 
 wise purloined ; a few flowers, faded and dead ; the 
 \ocket, with its enclosed treasure, and Miss Anstruther s 
 
140 MR. BARNES OF NEW YORK 
 
 heart, love and promise. .And in return for this he has 
 given all he has upon earth, himself included, and ia 
 proud of his bargain ; though a month ago he would 
 have jeered the person who would have told him that 
 there was any higher happiness than the careless, easy 
 bachelor life that he has led up to the day he met Enid 
 Anstruther. He communes thus with himself till the 
 train runs past Nice, and he finds himself thinking, "At 
 this station shfc was thirsty, and I got her a glass of water. 
 That was the room where we had breakfast in the morn- 
 ing ! " At Lyons he comes across the guard who had 
 starved his angel, and astonishes that worthy by giving 
 him a hundred francs. So his journey is one pleasant 
 reminiscence until he passes Paris, and here it changes 
 to a hope of soon seeing her in London, and being happy 
 ever afterwards. 
 
 Miss Anstruther returns to her hotel in a discontented, 
 erratic mood that produces some very unpleasant results 
 for those she chooses to honor with her company. 
 
 The first unfortunate she falls upon is Maud. Th.it 
 young lady rushes to her fate in the most reckless man- 
 ; for, no sooner does she see Enid in her own room, 
 than she flies after her and whispers in her ear, ' 
 lucky he's gone." 
 
 ucky he's gone ? What do you mean ? " 
 
 "Why, Enid, don't you know she was trying to get 
 him away from you ! " 
 
 " She ? Who ? " 
 
 " Why, that foreign cat, Marina, of course ! " returns 
 Maud, who has hated the beautiful Corsican with all a 
 child's detestation of those who are unjust to them, ever 
 since she had obtained from her the details of Enid's en- 
 gagement, and then made her go to bed for having de- 
 livered up her secret. 
 
 " Marina ? Impossible ! " screams Miss Anstruther. 
 
 "Yes! you don't know her; she's so deceitful she 
 makes you think she loves you but she loves /////// ' 
 
 " What ! does she dare ? " hisses Miss Anstruther, and 
 her face takes a cruel expression at the thought that 
 Marina could be guilty of an iniquity in which she has 
 been indulging; /.*., the fearful crime of loving Barnes. 
 
 " Oh ! she dares anything ; she is a plotter from tho 
 word go she gets telegran* ! " 
 
MR. BARNES OF NEW YORK. 14! 
 
 Telegrams have a wonderful mysterious conspiritorial 
 signification to Maud. After a little pause, to give full 
 weight to this portentous declaration, Miss Chartris goes 
 on, " If she didn't love him, why did she make me go to 
 bed when I told her you were engaged to him ? She was 
 angry, of course ! Then, last night, I was down-stairs 
 trying to find a bracelet of ma's I had borrowed and 
 lost, and I saw he : watching you two making love, with 
 the look of a fiend her eyes were so big ! And when 
 you had left, she sneaked out to him, and they had a 
 fearful time ; and afterwards I heard her sobbing as if 
 her heart would break ; and, though I didn't see him kiss 
 her, you'd better look after Mr. Barnes, of New York. 
 Oh ! Enid ! Great Jones ! Don't kill me ! " This last 
 is a scream of abject terror, for Miss Anstruther has 
 seized her by the shoulders, and is darting at her a glance 
 that might have come from Boadicea after she had passed 
 under the Roman rods. 
 
 All might have been well for the luckless Maud had 
 she not indulged in that last insinuation in regard to the 
 absent Barnes ; but now, there is no mercy in Enid for 
 the girl who has tortured her. " That ! " she cries, " for 
 trying to break my heart ! And that ! for telling stories 
 about him ! and now, having made me miserable, please 
 go away ! " an invitation that Maud is happy to accept, 
 as each of the " that's " has been a shake of such hysterical 
 vigor that her teeth almost rattle in her head. 
 
 She rushes from the room, and, after drying her eyes, 
 groans, " What is the matter ? Enid used to have a nice 
 temper George ! when I'm in love, if my younger sister 
 tells me anything about him, I suppose I'll murder her ! 
 All the same, I shall keep myself to myself after this, 
 and I think I know a way of getting even on Enid ! 
 Wait!" for Miss Chartris, in all her misfortunes, is a 
 philosopher. 
 
 As for Enid, she sobs a little, then tries to read a novel 
 that unfortunately contains a female Judas ; and this 
 works on her mind to such a degree that, having no bet- 
 ter occupation, she thinks she might just as well go and 
 have it out with Marina on the bridesmaid question for 
 all this time she will never admit to herself that she be- 
 lieves a word of what Maud has told her. 
 
 Arriving at the Corsican's apartments, she is astonished 
 
14* MR. BARNES OF NEW YORK* 
 
 to find old Tomasso, apparently greatly excited, engaged 
 in packing his mistress' baggage, and preparing for her 
 departure. His expressive face, that looks like an etch- 
 ing from a fourteenth century picture, is wrinkled by 
 smiles, as he mutters to himself, " God is merciful ! 1 
 shall live to see Antonio avenged ! " for Marina has just 
 been reading to him this telegram from Gibraltar : 
 
 " I am almost certain I have found him. Meet me fn Nice not 
 later than the day after to-morrow. DANBLLA." 
 
 Marina receives the English girt very coldly, but gives 
 Tomasso an errand that takes him from the room. 
 
 " You are going?" says Enid, "and you did not tell 
 me ! " She can't help wondering, " Is it because Barnes 
 has left that Marina goes also ? " 
 
 " Yes ! " replies the young lady addressed, " I have re- 
 ceived a telegram that takes me suddenly away from 
 Monte Carlo on business. I intended, however, to bid 
 you good-bye before I went ! " 
 
 " And it is this business that prevents your being my 
 bridesmaid ? " 
 
 "Yt 
 
 " But my wedding is six weeks off your business will 
 be finished by that time ? " 
 
 " I hope so ! but if it is, I shall be unable still to ac- 
 cept your offer ! " This is said coldly, but with a very 
 sad sigh. 
 
 Enid is certain it is one of regret perhaps for Barnes ? 
 For a moment she is jealous ; but, as she looks on Marina 
 and sees the hopeless misery of this beautiful woman, to 
 whose lonely lot she has perhaps added its most cruel 
 pang, there is only pity in her voice as she replies, I 
 am exceedingly sorry to lose your presence at my wed- 
 ding, but perhaps it is better thus." 
 
 " You are glad I refused you ? " whispers Marina, giv- 
 ing her a reproachful glance. Then, seeing a slight sus- 
 picion of haughtiness in Enid's manner, for, though she 
 strives to conceal it, the thought will return to Miss An- 
 struther that her friend is in love with her fiancee, the 
 Corsican suddenly cries, " Why do you look at me so 
 coldly ? Ah ! he has told you ! " 
 
 44 He! Who?" returns Enid, drawing away from 
 Marina, whose hand is placed appealingly on he/- arm. 
 
MR. BARNES OF NEW YORK. 14$ 
 
 " Signer Barnes ! My Heaven ! you despise me ! * 
 
 These astounding words are very bitter to the English 
 girl ; they tell her that there is a secret between her 
 lover and Marina, one in which she has no part, one 
 that the Corsican fears that she may know. She looks 
 at the almost perfect beauty before her, and is at 
 last thoroughly jealous. Though she forces herself to 
 be calm, her voice is cold and haughty as she says> 
 "I do not despise you. I am only sorry you have 
 so little self-control. We English girls do not expose 
 our passion to our rivals. I have the honor to wish you 
 adieu, Mademoiselle Paoli ! " 
 
 She turns to leave the room, but Marina cries, 
 "Rival?" strides up to her, seizes her hand, and says, 
 resolutely, " Not yet ! Not till you have explained that 
 word?" 
 
 " I beg of you not to insist upon an explanation ! " 
 
 " I have as much pride as you. I insist ? " 
 
 " Very well, since you force me, I will. You, yourself, 
 are in love with my affianced husband ! " 
 
 As the English girl says this with a very angry but 
 contemptuous glance, the Corsican opens her great eyes 
 in surprise, gives a little laugh that is almost a sneer, and 
 cries, " In love ? With him ? " 
 
 " Don't you dare to deny it in that way ! " returns Enid 
 very savagely. " Oh ! I thought you were too noble to 
 love a man and then sneer at him behind his back ! " 
 
 " Love him ? You must be crazy ! " 
 
 " No ! it is you who are crazy you treat me coldly 
 because I love him; you look at us when we are happy 
 as if you envied us ! " 
 
 " And so I do ! " with this Marina gives a sigh so pit- 
 eous that it would conquer any one but a jealous woman. 
 
 " Ah ! you confess ! You followed him last night ; you 
 came to him and begged for his love, and when you 
 could not with your beautiful false eyes and pathetic 
 southern graces win his true heart from me, you came up 
 here and cried in agony ! " 
 
 " And he told you that lie?" 
 
 " He ? Burton ? Never ! He said nothing ; he is too 
 noble to disclose a woman's humiliation. But I know i> 
 all the same ! " 
 
 "Stop ! " cries M^;:na in an awful voice. 
 
144 MR BARNES OF NEW YORK 
 
 But Enid Anstruther comes of a race who have stood 
 and died in their sturdy northern way against many a 
 wild charge of southern chivalry, she is no more to be 
 stopped than her ancestors were at Crecy or Azincourt, 
 or later on at Ramillies or Waterloo, and she goes on, 
 
 Oh ! how can you look at me so boldly after your trea- 
 chery to me? when I loved you so because you'd saved my 
 brother for me ! Why don't you blush and be ashamed 
 and fall on your knees and ask my pardon ? and then I 
 might forgive you, because it is so hard to keep from lov- 
 ing him! Ah! now you are softening now you repent !" 
 for the mention of Enid's brother has made Marina 
 tremble and her eyes fill with tears. 
 
 "Stop! the Corsican cries, "Give me justice you 
 cold, phlegmatic northern people always boast that you 
 give justice ! Listen, and do the same to me I love ! " 
 
 " A-ah !" this is a sniff of anger from Enid. 
 
 " I love not the man you say I do, but another ! As 
 well, perhaps even better, than you ; but I love without 
 hoi 
 
 Without hope? Oh ! how terrible I" murmurs Enid, 
 who, within a second has changed from an avenging 
 woman into a sympathizing one. " Can it be possible he 
 does not love you in retu- 
 
 44 1 do not know, I dare not know ; I thought for one 
 sweet moment that perchance he might, and then I fled 
 from him because I have a vow upon my soul that would 
 make it an infamy in me to et any man love me ! " 
 
 " A vow ! oh yes, you are going to be a nun !" 
 
 At this Marina gives a most unholy laugh and says, 
 
 * No ! mine is rather a vow to Hell than a vow to 
 Heaven ! It was this of which Mr. Barnes spoke to me 
 ast night; he said, while I had an assassin's passion in 
 my heart and an assassin's oath upon my conscience, I 
 was not worthy to associate with you ! " 
 
 "Ah! you are a Nihilist?" says Miss Anstruther 
 eagerly, and then having awful visions of Marina in sub- 
 terranean dungeons undergoing the knout, she gasps, 
 " Give it up for my sake ! " 
 
 " No ! I'm not a fanatic ! " replies the Corsican in 
 scorn, for she thinks her vow a perfectly natural one ; 
 such is the force of habit and association. 
 
 " But you yourself acknowledge your oath is a wicked 
 
MR. BARNES OF NEW YORK. 145 
 
 one. Turn from it and be happy, dear one ! " and a pair 
 of soft arms go round Marina. 
 
 But she shakes them off and cries, " No ! no ! for the 
 love of Heaven don't you tempt me \ I have so longed 
 to put it from me and be like other women ! But some- 
 times I think I am sworn to a holy mission ; and then I 
 pant to meet him that I may do my duty ! " This last is 
 altered as if she were inspired, but not from God. 
 
 After a pause Enid says, 'And Mr. Barnes caused 
 you to write me this note ?" 
 
 Yes ! " 
 
 " You poor darling ! " Here Miss Anstruther's arms 
 again surround the Corsican girl, and this time they con- 
 quer her and stay about her. " How cruel he was to 
 you ! He did not think you should be the companion of 
 his angel who loves you. But consent to be my brides- 
 maid and I'll show him I am not all angel ! for Til fight 
 for you ! Promise dear one ! " 
 
 But Marina says determinedly, " Never ! I cannot put 
 away my vow ! Your lover is right ; you are too good 
 for me ; but though I shall not see you a bride I shall 
 always love you because of of your kindness to me 
 when no friends were near. But I am going away and 
 you may never see me again and ! " 
 
 Here the two girls cry over each other. 
 
 They are interrupted in this work by Miss Chartris, 
 who calls through the door, "He's come back again, 
 Enid ! " 
 
 "He? Who?" cries Miss Anstruther springing up. 
 Then she says, " I will see you before you go, dear one ! " 
 gives Marina another kiss, and darts out with a beating 
 heart, thinking that for some unknown reasons Mi. 
 Barnes has returned to her. 
 
 She pursues Maud Chartris to the door of her mother's 
 parlor ; where that young lady, turns to Enid, whispers, 
 " He's in there alone waiting to clasp you in his arms ! " 
 and gives a playful little laugh. 
 
 Miss Anstruther opens the door ; and, the blinds being 
 drawn on account of the hot sun, sees sitting in the 
 shadow with his back to her, a man she imagines to be 
 Mr. Barnes. 
 
 She darts upon him softly, puts her arms about his 
 qeck, whispers in his ear, " Burton, darling you couldn't 
 
146 MR. BARNES OF NEW YORK. 
 
 leave me, could you ! " gives him a most delicious kiss, 
 and then starts back with a scream of dismay ; for a 
 great bearded creature who has returned her kiss very 
 cordially, says with a laugh, "So 'Burton, darling,' has 
 gone away, has he ? " 
 
 Here Enid gives another cry, " Edwin ! My brother ! " 
 and flies at him, not so bashfully this time, with many 
 affectionate kisses, though they are scarcely so tender as 
 the one intended for " Burton, darling." 
 
 Edwin Gerard Anstruther is a worthy type of the man- 
 hood that has supported the British flag against all kinds 
 of odds, in all kinds of climates, in all sorts of perils, for 
 so many generations by land and by sea ; and who have 
 generally given their country little cause to regret what 
 has come to her honor or her safety at their hands. 
 
 He is a brave, educated young Englishman, and though 
 Enid looks upon him as almost a paragon among men, 
 she is nearer right than the generality of sisters are in 
 regard to their brothers' virtues. 
 
 He is not quite so fair as Miss Anstruther ; perhaps 
 because he has passed so much of his life exposed to 
 wind and sun. There is a frank look in his eyes and a 
 noble bearing in his figure that makes one take kindly to 
 him at once. His smile, curiously enough in so young a 
 man, is not as merry as it should be. 
 
 Enid notices this ; and, their first greeting being over, 
 says, " Edwin, is anything the matter with you ? When 
 you were in Nice I did not speak of it because our half 
 hour was so short ; but now, what has become of your 
 laugh ? " 
 
 11 My laugh ! didn't you hear it when you mistook me 
 for ' Burton, darling ? ' " 
 
 "Yes but your old laugh the one that used to tell 
 me you were happ 
 
 " Oh ! I'm afraid I left that behind in Egypt" 
 
 "In Egypt?" 
 
 "Yes! A man can't see suffering, misery, war and 
 death all about him, and forever be a boy, and have a 
 boy's freedom from the cares and sorrows ot life ! How- 
 ever, I am pretty much my old self again now ! And 
 Sou ! " here he draws her to the light and looks at her 
 i a critical way, "How do^s being in love agree with 
 you, Eni<J?" 
 
MK. BARNES OF NEW YORK. 147 
 
 " Pretty well, thank you," says the young lady very 
 demurely but giving a big blush. 
 
 " Yes ! I see it brings a nice color to your cheeks ! " 
 
 At this Miss Anstruther checks him with, " How and 
 why did you come here ?" 
 
 " First, to see you and * Burton, darling/ Second, be- 
 cause I fortunately got leave and thought it would be 
 pleasanter to return with you both to England by rail, 
 than knocking about for two weeks more on shipboard." 
 
 Here sudden joy comes over Enid, and she cries, " Oh, 
 how magnificent ! He is but one day ahead of us ! 
 We will leave to-morrow and I shall see him in forty- 
 eight hours." 
 
 " All right, and the sooner the better ! " says the sailor ; 
 " I suppose ' Burton, darling,' will not be sorry neither 
 What a wonderfully tender kiss that first one you gave me 
 was, Enid." 
 
 " Tease me as much as you like about ' Burton, darling/ 
 only take me to him," says Miss Anstruther. " But if 
 we leave to-morrow I must see that my maid packs, and 
 tell Lady Chartris. You'll excuse me for a little while, 
 Edwin you can run over to the Casino and kiii time for 
 an hour, you dearest of brothers." With that she runs 
 off on her errand, thinking to herself, " Only two days and 
 I shall be with him once more," and trembles with ex- 
 pectant happiness. 
 
 Her brother looks after her, and mutters, " Love has 
 made her a new girl," and then, with a kind of weary 
 sigh, " and me a new man." And, after a few moments' 
 rather glum consultation with himself, suddenly cries, 
 w What's the use ! I might as well knock what enjoy- 
 ment I can out of life ! " lights a cigar and wanders out 
 of the hotel into the Casino gardens, where he lounges 
 about in a listless, heedless sort of way ; not even giving 
 much attention to several pretty girls that pass by him in 
 ihe light, graceful summer toilets appropriate to Monaco 
 in May. 
 
 He gets to the terrace, sniffs the sea breeze, sits down 
 and goes to day-dreaming again. Soon his eyes, that 
 have been wandering absently about, fix themselves on a 
 young lady who is standing at some distance from him 
 looking out over the Mediterranean, her beautiful form 
 drooping like a lily crushed by the storm, The helpless, 
 
148 MR. BARNES OF NEW YORK. 
 
 hopeless misery in her attitude attracts his notice, and he 
 mutters to himself, "Poor devil ! Jove ! she looks more 
 down in the mouth than I do ! " The next instant, he 
 starts, and stares at her, his whole soul in his eyes. His 
 strong limbs tremble for a moment, but his strong will 
 forces them to do their office ; he rises, and going near 
 to her, whispers in a voice tremulous with hope and love 
 "Marina! At last 7" 
 
 CHAPTER XVL 
 
 LOVE'S BATTLE. 
 
 THERE are some joys so glorious they can hardly be 
 imagined. 
 
 As the girl turns her face towards this man even the 
 world seems to change to her and become another and 
 a brighter one. The sea that was sombre sparkles in the 
 sunrays, the sky that was leaden is as blue and clear as 
 painters give to that of Italy ; and the modem garden 
 with its light, frivolous loungers and gaudily decked 
 women, its earthly orchestra playing a flash French 
 melody, is as Eden with celestial choirs singing a pean of 
 joy. 
 
 This feeling comes into her face and makes it very 
 beautiful. 
 
 Anstruther gazes at her with a look of amazed admira- 
 tion, and cries, " You are happy to see me ! " 
 
 " Happy ? Gerard ! " The first is a cry of astonished 
 ecstacy ; the last ends in a sigh of abject misery. The 
 light fades from her face, the world becomes a world of 
 gloom once more, for Marina feels that the presence of 
 this man (who could, but whom she has decreed shall 
 not, make her happy) will but add to the agony of her 
 struggle and her despair. 
 
 She falters, trembles, and almost falls : giving a golden 
 opportunity for coming on good terms with her at once of 
 which Barnes would have taken advantage, and bestowed 
 upon her tempting waist a delicate pressure that would 
 done bis battle no harm but Edwin, who has been 
 at sea a ^reat portion of his tim^ and has that immense 
 
MR. BARNES OF NEW YORK. 149 
 
 respect that all good men have for women, until they know 
 them well enough to discover that Eve is hidden in most 
 of them, lets his chance go by, and merely says, " Forgive 
 me ; I have startled you ! " 
 
 For a moment she does not reply to this, and he stands 
 inactive and lets this volcanic creature cover her raging 
 fire with a little glacial ice ; until she can utter slowly 
 but coolly, "You surprised me at first! Alexandria and 
 Monte Carlo are so far apart. I had forgotten you Eng- 
 lish are such travelers. You came to see your sister, I 
 presume, Monsieur An-stru-ther ! " She struggles a 
 little with the last word, as if she had pronounced it sel- 
 dom. 
 
 " You make bad work of my family name," he says. 
 M Won't you come back to old times and the old name ? " 
 
 "The old name?" 
 
 "Yes ; the one you used to call me by when you came 
 each morning to the Egyptian hospital to see I was not 
 dead I The one you uttered when you first saw me 
 here ! Gerard ! " 
 
 Mr. Anstruther has steadied himself and is now doing 
 good work. He has made up his mind to fight a great 
 square, honest battle for the happiness of his life ; and, 
 though it will not have the delicate touches and quaint 
 skill of fence with which Mr. Barnes would have em- 
 bellished it, still it is a kind of attack that always wins 
 where a woman loves ; and, in this case, it would be a 
 dashing victory in one round, but for the girl having 
 grown to regard her oath of vengeance on her brother's 
 slayer as a sort of holy mission for which she must, like 
 the palmer of old, give up home and friends, and even 
 love and happiness. 
 
 He gains a little advantage from his speech. The 
 remembrance of Egypt melts some of the artificial ice the 
 girl has put about her. She answers, " Yes Gerard ! I 
 remember ! " holds out a tiny hand which he clasps and 
 when she would withdraw it, has sense enough to clasp 
 it tighter. His touch overcomes her ; her head droops. 
 
 " Now I can call you, Marina, as in those happy days in 
 Alexandria ! " he whispers. 
 
 Here a sudden resolution comes to the Corsican ; she 
 will again flee from this man who will make her forget 
 her oath. She raises her head, though there are tears in 
 
150 MR. BARNES OF NEW YORK. 
 
 her eyes, looks him fairly in the face and manages to 
 say ! " You must let me go. I have the afternoon train 
 to take; I am leaving Monte Carlo ! " 
 
 "What? When I have just found you, after seeking 
 for you a year ! " 
 
 -'I must!" 
 
 " Very well ! M he replies sadly, relinquishing her hand, 
 " I am afraid my coming has driven you away ! " 
 
 "Oh ! Don't say that ! Good-bye ! " 
 
 She turns and gets a little way from him. He has not 
 answered her adieu he thinks her cruel to him ; she 
 falters and turns to have one more look at the being she- 
 adores, but flies from. This look is her undoing. Edwin, 
 gazing after her as one does upon his last dying hope, 
 sees, within her eyes, something that makes hope live. 
 The next instant he is at her side again. 
 
 " Won't you say good-bye to me ? " she falters. 
 
 " No ! " 
 
 "No?" 
 
 " No ! For I am going with you!" This is a tender 
 touch worthy of Barnes. 
 
 With these words, come to Marina visions of Danella 
 plotting with her the murder and this man discovering 
 it ; this man who has been educated to despise an assas- 
 sin ; this man whose good opinion is more to her than all 
 the world's. 
 
 " No ! No ! " she cries, " you must leave me." 
 
 " Not till you have heard me ! " 
 
 " As you are a gentleman, you must go ! " 
 
 " As I am a man fighting for my happiness, not till you 
 have answered my question ! " 
 
 " As you will ! What is it ? " she says, forcing herself 
 to be calm ; then, looks at the gloom of the evening that 
 is beginning to make the garden dark, and murmurs 1 
 can give you ten minutes ! " 
 
 " Ten seconds will be enough for me ! I once hoped, 
 prayed, thought that you loved me ! Tell me was I mis- 
 taker. 
 
 She does not answer this ; but, in her face, which is 
 turned towards the earth, joy is conquering grief. Her 
 beautiful features are flushed ; her eyes are beginning to 
 beam with a strange light ; the volcano of her passions 
 '$ on the eve of an eruption. 
 
MR. BARNES OF NEW YORK. 151 
 
 " Do you love me ? " he goes on in rapid intensity. 
 " Look me in the face and tell me, do you love me ? 
 Though it breaks my heart if you say, No ; if you even 
 shake your head, I will believe you ! If you had not fled 
 from me in Egypt I would have asked you then. Now 
 after I have sought for you so long, look me in the face, 
 sweetheart, and tell me, do you love me?" 
 
 The eruption takes place ! The repressed passion of a 
 year at last comes from her lips, " Do I love you, Gerard ? 
 Do I love you ? I love you better than my soul ! " 
 
 She can say no more, for she is in the arms that she 
 has nursed to strength, sobbing as if her heart would 
 break. 
 
 Marina is now a miracle of tenderness. Being conquered 
 by love, she gives way to it with that charming abandon 
 and those graceful arts of endearment peculiar to the 
 women of the South. And so the minutes run along, 
 until Anstruther murmurs in the delicate ear nestled 
 against his cheek, for the hundredth time, " Do you Jove 
 me?" 
 
 She whispers back, " You cannot doubt that now ! " 
 
 " Then, sweetheart, when will you marry me ? " At 
 this she starts and struggles from his arms, and cries, in 
 the voice of despair, " Never ! " 
 
 " Never ! " he echoes, with a pale face, " Never ? and 
 you love me ? " 
 
 " I adore you better than my life, but I will never see 
 your face on earth again ! " and with these astounding 
 words she darts from him into the darkness. 
 
 For a second, he is stunned, but the next instant fol- 
 lows and tries to find her, but in the gloom of the even- 
 ing, immediate pursuit is useless. He stands consider- 
 ing for a moment, then turns to a lamp and consults his 
 watch. It is past the time of the outgoing train ; until 
 another departs she must remain in Monte Carlo. If 
 she is at a villa, she may baffle him; if she is at a hotel, 
 he will find her. He runs to the Casino and dispatches 
 one of the servants of the house, with Marina's name, to 
 discover if she is registered at any of the hotels. While 
 the man is gone, he stands thinking if this is not a dream, 
 or the ravings of a disordered brain that has brooded too 
 much over the girl who has filled his mind ever since she 
 fled from him in Egypt. But no, the soft impress of 
 
152 MR. BARNES OF NEW YORK. 
 
 her lips still lingers upon his; the perfume from her 
 dress is still about him. Here another fear darts through 
 his mind, " What if she should leave Monte Carlo by car- 
 riage ! " He must send word to all the public stables to 
 notify him if they receive an order from Mademoiselle 
 Paoli. He is just about to make such an arrangement, 
 when the servant brings him word that the young lady is 
 registered at the Grand Hotel. 
 
 He rushes there and finds that Mademoiselle Paoli has 
 ordered a carriage to be ready to take her to Nice that 
 night ; a little more delay and he would have missed 
 her. 
 
 He knows that his card will be refused, and walks up 
 to her apartments himself. He knocks at Marina's 
 parlor door and there is no answer ; then, listening, hears 
 a subdued sound that makes him sigh. He raps again 
 several times unanswered ; and then calls through the 
 panel, " Before you go, I must see you I " 
 
 After a moment a reply comes in Marina's voice, "You 
 may pursue me forever, but you shall not look on me 
 again ! " 
 
 " You will not open the door ? " 
 
 " Never ! " 
 
 " Very well, I shall wait in the hall until you come out, 
 and speak to you then ; and, if you will not listen to me 
 there, I shall follow your carriage to Nice, and again de- 
 mand an interview, and so on, till you or I die ! " 
 
 "Then I shall not leave my apartments till morn- 
 ing!" 
 
 "In that case, I shall remain here all night to see that 
 you do not escape me ! " 
 
 Here a piteous voice comes to him, " Gerard, why do 
 you add to my misery ! Go away ! Leave me, I beg of 
 you, as you are a gentleman I " 
 
 "As I am a man, I stay here! " He gets no further 
 answer, and stands waiting ; for Edwin Anstruthcr, now 
 that he knows his sweetheart loves him, is like a lion that 
 has tasted blood and longs for more. It is fearfully tedious, 
 in the dreary hall, when there is but a little door that he 
 could easily break down with his foot between him and 
 the being for whose presence he hungers. But he is ac- 
 customed to taking his watch at night on shipboard, and 
 he paces the corridor as he would his quarter-deck. And 
 
MR. BARNES OF NEW YORK. 153 
 
 so an hour passes, when she, who is panting behind that 
 door, like a hunted creature in its lair, watching for the 
 hound to tire in his vigil and leave her a pathway to 
 escape, speaks to him again. 
 
 " You are still there ! Gerard, have mercy, and let me 
 go!" 
 
 " Not till I see you 1 " 
 
 "I cannot bear that you should make yourself unhappy 
 for me in this cruel way Go, for God's sake ! " 
 
 " For yours, I will stay ! " 
 
 His persistency tortures, nay, almost angers her. She 
 will see him ; she will crush any feeling of hope in this 
 man who insists on pursuing her. In this resolution, 
 Marina hurriedly throws over her dishabille (for she has 
 been preparing to dress for her journey) a light morning 
 robe, opens her parlor door, and cries, " Enter ! Ask me 
 what you will and then in mercy to me go ! " 
 
 " Then, in mercy to me, answer my questions ! " and 
 before her is a man whose passions, being now aroused, 
 has all the fervor of the southern, but still retains the 
 steadfast resolution of his northern, race. A man who 
 may be made to despise her and so give her up, but who, 
 as long as he thinks she loves him, can no more be shaken 
 off by her than a deer can throw off the lion who has 
 struck it down. 
 
 In fact Anstruther looks to her now as stern and terrible 
 as that king of beasts ; as he gives her a glance that 
 makes her cower, for he is fearfully angry as well as fear- 
 fully in love with this beautiful creature who tortures him. 
 She returns him a little broken-hearted smile, and says, 
 tremulously, " Ask them ! " 
 
 " Very well I " he replies. * You tell me that you love 
 me, and yet say you will never marry me ! What reason 
 have you to dare to tell me that ? " 
 
 " What right have you to dare to ask me that ? " 
 
 " The right you gave me when you said you loved me \ 
 Dare to tell me those kisses were a shame on your wo- 
 manhood and a fraud upon my manhood deny that you 
 are a true woman, and I ask no more ! " 
 
 This is a terrible speech for Marina ; she knows now 
 she must either tell him why she refuses to give herself 
 where she has given her heart, or let him think her a 
 flirt, a coquette, or even worse, and so despise her and 
 
154 MR. BARNES OF NEW YORK. 
 
 let her go. His contempt is not to be borne for an in- 
 stant. She cries proudly, " Gerard, I love you ! My 
 kisses were as true as ever woman gave to man, but I I 
 cannot marry you ! " 
 
 "Cannot marry me ? Are you the wife of another ? " 
 
 " No ! " 
 
 " Thank God 1 " 
 
 "And I will never marry any one but you ! That I 
 swear ! if that will make you happy." 
 
 Happy ? when, after to-night, I am never to see your 
 face again ! Happy ? when you love me and will not be 
 mine ! " And Edwin seizes this woman in his arms, 
 whose beauty and whose love madden him ; for, if Marina 
 had hoped to bind him to her forever, she could not have 
 looked more enchanting than she does now, as her bare 
 white arms flash out of the light dress that drapes the 
 exquisite undulations of her graceful form, and close in 
 pitying tenderness around the neck of this man she had 
 sworn to herself she would never see again. He looks 
 closely at her a moment, and then shudders, " There is 
 despair in your face ! " for her eyes are filled with that 
 same hopeless agony that makes Guide's head of Beatrice 
 Cenci the saddest painting upon earth. 
 
 I )espair ! " she cries, " despair for vou ! Despair for 
 me ! Adorato mio, I love you but I leave you ! '' 
 
 " Let me understand you," he says, forcing himself to 
 be calmer; " were it not for an obstacle, you would marry 
 me 
 
 With all my soul 1 Oh, I should so like to be 
 happ 
 
 Then you shall be ! M 
 
 " I cannot ! I dare not ! " 
 
 " You shall be ! Tell me what stands between you and 
 me, and I will destroy it ! " 
 
 " Never ! You would condemn ! " 
 
 At this he seizes her, looks her in the eyes, then laughs, 
 and says, " Condemn ? You couldn't do anything very 
 wrong if you tried. Dear one, you were an angel in 
 Alexandria, you could not be anything else in France ! ' 
 
 His confidence makes him dearer than ever to her; she 
 will never tell him what may cost her his respect. 
 
 " V^w," he says, " I will know what is destroying our 
 uappiness ! " 
 
MR. BARNES OF NEW YORK. 155 
 
 " Never ! It is a matter of my conscience. I do not tell 
 it to the holy father who confesses me." 
 
 " Would he give you absolution if you did ? " This is 
 a terrible question ; she droops her head. 
 
 " Ah ! you are ashamed of it ? " 
 
 " No ! " she cries, " I am proud of it ! oh ! how cruel 
 you are ! " 
 
 " Cruel ! To you ? " and he has her in his arms again. 
 " Oh ! my love. Remember that you had no right to 
 resurrect, by your tender nursing, my life in Egypt, to 
 make it unhappy forever afterwards ! " 
 
 This view of the matter affects her more than anything 
 he has said ; she begins to falter and hesitate and whis- 
 pers, " I I did not know you loved me so much ; that 
 I would make you so unhappy ! I I will consider ! " 
 
 " Then it is a matter of your choice ? You could be 
 my wife if you would ? " 
 
 y-e-s ! " 
 
 " Then you shall be ! I swear it ! You love me ! I 
 have no fear ! " 
 
 She looks at him hope is in his face; she knows he is 
 conquering her, breaks from him, springs to the door of 
 her bedroom, and there cries, " Leave me ! I can tell 
 you no more ! Leave me alone, and let me fight the battle 
 out between my duty and my love ! " 
 
 " But my answer ! " says Anstruther, following her. 
 
 " To-morrow ! Gerard ! Don't come near me ! " and 
 she struggles from him and pants, " Don't dare to kiss 
 me you fight your battle too strongly with them, I love 
 you so! Keep away ! Give my vow one chance ! " 
 
 " Your vow ? What vow ? " 
 
 " That you shall never know ! " 
 
 " That I will know, unless to-morrow you will promise 
 to be my wife. Do you suppose I will have my life 
 ruined and not have the reason of it ! " 
 
 " Have I not told you, you shall have my answer to- 
 morrow ! " 
 
 1 From your own lips ? " 
 
 * No by letter ! " 
 
 ' From your own lips ! Promise !" 
 
 ' And if not ? " 
 
 ' I wait in that hall so that you do not fly /rom me ! w 
 
 All night ? " 
 
1^6 MR. BARNES OF NEW YORK. 
 
 " Yes ! and all day too to win you ! " 
 
 " Oh ! Gerard ! You foolish one ! But I promise to 
 fell my answer to your face as I speak now : " 
 Tomorrow ! " 
 
 Yes ! Go ! " 
 
 He makes no effort to caress her, but simply says, " To- 
 morrow," and is going away looking very solemn and 
 somewhat downhearted. She cannot bear to see him 
 unhappy ; she knows that she can never refuse him now, 
 though she will not answer him to-night. 
 
 She calls him back to her and says, " When you get 
 down stairs tell Tomasso, my servant, he may send the 
 carriage away. I will not leave Monaco for a week." 
 
 " For a week ? " cries Anstruther with a ring of joy in 
 his voice. 
 
 44 Yes \ you're not going away are you ? " 
 I no I what do you mean? Is this your answer? " 
 
 " No ! I must bury my vow before that ! No answer 
 till to-morrow ; but good of my life take this one kiss 
 and think perhaps God will let me make you happy." 
 She holds up her lips to his ; but, when he would keep 
 her longer, breaks from him and runs into her room ; 
 then locks the door and walks the floor wringing her 
 hands like one possessed. 
 
 Some time afterwards old Tomasso brings her a tele- 
 gram, and she reads, 
 
 " I have found the man ! He is near us, where we can reach him. 
 Be happy! 
 
 " DAMELLA." 
 
 At this, she utters a cry of baffled rage. Vengeance is 
 at her hand ; but she cannot take it, without making the 
 man she loves despair, for Gerard's wife must have no 
 vow of the Vendetta on her soul. Then she staggers to 
 her brother's picture and begs, " Let me be happy ! It 
 was your wish, beloved one, that I should not remember ! " 
 and here suddenly cries, "Antonio, forgive me ! I, your 
 sister, have betrayed you ! Your face makes me ashamed ! " 
 -urns his picture to the wall, and sinks down to pray to 
 God to take the Corsican out of her heart, and make her 
 worthy to be Gerard's wife ! 
 
 Anstruther, whose battle this girl is fighting against 
 her traditions, the faith of her wild race and the vow that 
 
jtfK. BARNES OF NEW YORK. 157 
 
 % 
 
 she had made her household god, comes down from the 
 interview with a serious but happy face ; and, a moment 
 after, mutters to himself, " George I how I must love her ; 
 I've forgotten my dinner ! " Then looking at his watch 
 finds it is just time for supper,to which he goes humming 
 a merry tune. " To the victors belong the spoils." 
 
MR. BARNES OF NEW YORK. 
 
 BOOK IV 
 
 A NEW CRIME. 
 
 CHAPTER XVII. 
 
 YOU HAVE FORGOTTEN YOU ARE A CORSICAN ! 
 
 THAT night Marina buries and puts from her, for love 
 of this man, the vow she had made over her brother's body. 
 
 It is a funeral, with many tears and many struggles ; 
 for she is giving up what the faith of her fathers and the 
 teachings of her race have made it her holy duty to 
 perform. 
 
 But it is all or nothing, she knows that ; and as she 
 takes her brother's picture and, covering it reverently, 
 places it where it cannot remind her of the past, she 
 gives it a kiss and a tear, but says to it, " Now if your 
 murderer stood before me, helpless and in my hands, he 
 is safe ! The wife of Gerard must be no criminal ; not 
 even if she is a Corsican, whose neighbors cry 
 * Shame upon you ! Your brother cannot rest within his 
 grave his sister instead of avenging him, marries one 
 of the nation from whom his murderer came ! '" 
 
 So the night passes ; and, at the end, in tears and 
 prayer she has cast out the thing that has been a blight 
 upon her life, and thinks, " I am Gerard's now, and must 
 be holy for his sake." 
 
 And here another joy comes over her; she is a Catho- 
 lic; she can now confess and receive the consolatioi 
 her religion; for since the day she has made her oath of 
 vengeance she has not dared to face her church; with 
 that in her heart she knows it would condemn and 
 anathematize, even though all the traditions of her island 
 -said murder was just 
 
MR- BARNES OF NEW YORK. 15^ 
 
 She has several times seen pass her at the hotel a 
 priest, going on an errand of mercy to a sick boy brought 
 here, when too late, that the balmy air of the Riviera 
 may keep consumption from claiming his life. 
 
 This holy man, she remembers, is one of the kind to 
 whom she could lay bare her heart ; one in whose face 
 there are the traces of a struggle and a victory over sin 
 within himself ; one who causes us to know that a true 
 Christian makes the truest man. 
 
 It is by this time early morning ; she sends to the 
 office for his address, and word is brought her that 
 Father Enrique is now in the house, having come to ad- 
 minister the last rights of the Church to the dying boy. 
 She waits in the corridor ; and, as he returns from his 
 mission, says to him, " Father, you have just been giving 
 consolation to one who is to die, teach me how to live ! " 
 Then, drawing him to her room, she tells him the story 
 of her life. The good priest looks at this beautiful sinner 
 in some astonishment ; for, though he has had some 
 curious confessions from penitent ladies at Monte Carlo, 
 still he has had none like this ; but fortunately for her, 
 being a man of common sense, after showing to her the 
 enormity of her crime, and that all the customs or habits 
 or passions of a country or a race could not make wrong 
 right, nor nullify the law of God, whose law is the law of 
 all who live upon this earth, nay more, of any who 
 may exist within the universe, he begins to comfort ana 
 console her and lift her up and show her that Heaven 
 has kindly given her this great love for Gerard, in order 
 to turn her from her sin before she has consummated it, 
 and the best and safest course for her is to marry as soon 
 as possible and leave behind her the awful passions of 
 her other life. 
 
 " And my penance ? " she asks. " My expiation ? " 
 
 " Penance ? Repent ! Expiation ? Be a good wife 
 to this heretic you love ; and if you can't make him a 
 good catholic, make him a good man ! " 
 
 This perhaps is not very orthodox, but very human. 
 He leaves her consoled and penitent; and, the contend- 
 ing passions in her soul being calmed, sleep comes to 
 her and gives her rest. 
 
 Mr. Anstruther having no vendetta on his mind, has ft 
 Tery comfortable night'* slumber without confession, of 
 
160 MR. BARNES OF NEW YORK. 
 
 even prayer for that matter; but is disturbed in the early 
 morning and thinks he hears a knocking ; he grunts out 
 some unintelligible exclamation and rolls over for another 
 snooae. From this, however, he is awakened by a very 
 sharp, vigorous and imperative attack upon his door. 
 He springs out of bed and cries, " What is up ? What'i 
 the matter?" 
 
 Enid's excited voice answers him from without, "Up! 
 You're not up ! That's the matter ! We've only twenty 
 minutes to catch the train. I had you called an hour 
 ago, Edwin ; dress quickly ! " 
 
 At this he gives a prolonged whistle and mutters, 
 " Cursed awkward ; I forgot ; " then yells through the 
 panel, " I won't be a minute, Enid ! " and thinks of the 
 rage of his fair sister when she discovers that he will not 
 take her to England that day. 
 
 His mind is not made more easy by such exclamations 
 as, " Hurry I Hurry ! We'll miss the train ! You're not 
 going to him, / am ! Be quick for my sake ! " which 
 come to him through the door as he dresses. 
 
 Thus adjured, he makes a hasty toilet, throws open 
 his portal, and Miss Anstruther confronts him in a very 
 pretty traveling dress, a look of expectant hope on her 
 face, and an eager anxiety in her movements. 
 
 ome ! " she cries, "only ten minutes now 1 No time 
 to bid Lady Chartris good-bye ! " 
 
 *' But my breakfast?" he suggests. 
 
 "Breakfast? Breakfast in Nice! Come!" She 
 turns to two porters behind her and says, " Bring down 
 his luggage," and then in a little scream of despair 
 tters, " Why, you've not packed!" 
 
 44 No. Didn't I send word I was not going to-day ? " 
 
 u Not going to-day t" Description would fail to give 
 an idea of the surprised disappointment of the girl 
 Enid sinks down and mutters, " I have telegraphed him. 
 He will be at Dover to meet me ! " then springs up and 
 cries, " What does luggage matter to a sailor. Come ! " 
 
 " No ! I ! ah ! you see ! " 
 
 " I see nothing but that we have nine minutes to catch 
 a train upon which my happiness depends Edwin ! as 
 you love me come I " 
 
 44 No ! it's impossible," remarks Anstruther with rather 
 bang-dog air; for he sees, with concern, there are 
 
BT*. BARNES OF NEW YORK. H<I 
 
 tears of disappointment in his sister's beautiful eyes, 
 " Enid, I would go with you if I could but, ah I didn't 
 like to tell you before the doctors think it's best for me 
 not to exert myself too much. You know my wound in 
 Egypt ! " 
 
 "Your wound ! You frighten me ! " 
 
 "Ah! YesYou see I'm not up to travel." With 
 this he gives a little pant or two, and to work his case Uft 
 sinks apparently exhausted into a chair. 
 
 " Edwin, you are fainting ! " she screams, giving him a 
 glance of horror that makes him ashamed of himself ; but 
 he has to keep to his role, for he feels he cannot tell Enid 
 the truth just yet ; and to leave Marina, until he receives 
 her answer, is of course out of the question. " You art 
 not well enough to travel." 
 
 " Yes 1 " he replies. " It is because I was wounded in 
 Egypt I do not leave Monaco to-day." And with thit 
 wretched prevarication he tries to soothe his conscience ; 
 but here Enid gives it another twist. 
 
 She whispers, "You are very ill! Oh! that awful 
 wound I Will it never heal ? Go to bed, darling ; I will 
 bring up your breakfast and stay here and nurse you ! " 
 
 44 But 'Burton, darling?" 
 
 " Burton must wait ; you are sick ; he is well." 
 
 "What a dear little angel you are, Enid! "says her 
 brother, taking her in his arms and kissing her, as she de- 
 serves, " I'm not so ill, but I'll be round all right to- 
 morrow ; and, when I do take you to England, you shall 
 have the handsomest trousseau you ever dreamt of. Now 
 don't grieve me, by being too much disappointed at not 
 eeing Barnes for a day or two ; and, above all, don't 
 make me miserable by being anxious about me ! " 
 
 But this show of affection increases her concern. She 
 whispers, " You are trying to make me forget you are 
 very ill. How fortunate I am here with you. For how 
 many kisses will you go to bed ? " 
 
 " Not for ten thousand ! " 
 
 44 You won't go to bed ? " 
 
 44 Not till midnight ! " 
 
 " Then I will see that you do now. Yes, and that you 
 have proper advice and attendance until we make you 
 strong again I " and Enid darts from the room, for she 
 has just rr?jrNired there is a celebrated English 
 
16$ MR. BARNES OF NEW YORK 
 
 Burgeon in the hotel, and has run off to find him and 
 send him to her dear invalid. Though the physician 
 does not come, some one with greater power to soothe 
 him does. In her pursuit of the doctor Enid runs across 
 Marina, who has come down to eat a little breakfast, for 
 nature has resumed its sway and she has remembered 
 that she had no dinner the night before. "What has 
 happened to make you so happy ! " cries Enid rapidly, 
 and stares in astonishment, for the Corsican is as radiant 
 as the sun, " You haven't left yet, dear ; I feared I had 
 missed you ! " 
 
 " No, I shall remain a few days. I hope to sec a great 
 deal of you, now Mr. Barnes has gone." 
 
 "So you shall when my brother gets well ' 
 
 "He is ill?" 
 
 " Very ! He almost fainted in my arms a minute ago. 
 I must find the doctor ! " and Enid hurries off, not 
 noticing that Marina has staggered and almost fainted 
 too. 
 
 Mr. Anstruther has thrown off the hasty toilet made 
 for his sister, and is now, in dishabille, preparing an 
 elaborate get up with which he hopes to dazzle his C 
 can sweetheart, when there comes a faint knock. He 
 cries, " Don't come in ! That you, Enid ?" 
 
 " No ! It is I ! " says a trembling voice. 
 
 " Marina ? " There is a noise of scattered bedroom arti- 
 cles as he springs to the door. 
 
 " Yes come to nurse you, as I did before. You are 
 ill, (ierardl" 
 
 44 Never better in my life ! M 
 
 " Impossible ! Your sister said you fainted ! She said 
 the would nurse you ; but, Gerard, I claim that rig! 
 
 " And you shall have it when I am sick 1 " he cries 
 prith a merry voice, for her last words make him "very 
 happy. Then he hurriedly explains the deception h. 
 practiced upon Enid, and opening the door a little, says, 
 " Dear one, if you don't believe me put in your hand rim! 
 feel my pulse," 
 
 Here there is extended into the room a little palm, 
 with groping fingers, which is seized upon ; and. instead 
 of a throbbing pulse, feels a long mustache and a pair 
 of lips. 
 
 A moment of bliss, and Marina cries, " Gerard, let mo 
 
MR. BARNES OF NEW YORK. 163 
 
 go ! If your sister saw me thus, what would she 
 think?" 
 
 "If she sees you thus, show her this! And keep it, 
 darling, till I can replace it with a better ! " and, finally, 
 withdrawing her hand, Marina finds Gerard's seal ring 
 slipped upon her finger 
 
 " Now, when will you .reet me ? " 
 
 " Whenever you like,*' whispers the girl, looking at 
 the ring, and feeling it makes her his. 
 
 "Very well ! Run away now, dear one, and in a few 
 minutes I will call upon you in your parlor," says Mr. 
 Anstruther, in a very confident and commanding voice to 
 this captive of his bow and spear. 
 
 And he does so ; and finds the girl waiting for him, 
 more beautiful and more bashful than the evening before. 
 
 Happiness has perfected her charms, but made her 
 timid, compared to last night, when she thought never to 
 see him again and had the boldness of despair. 
 
 She is in a dead white dress, a little out of the fashion, 
 perhaps, as it has not done duty for over a year ; but she 
 feels anything is better for her this happy morning than the 
 black she has worn, that reminds her of the vow she has 
 cast out from her. 
 
 Anstruther enters the room and pounces instantly upon 
 his captive's hand, for he is in no mood to dally with his 
 will-o'-the-wisp sweetheart who has made him suffer so 
 long ; and says, " You have not taken off my ring ? " 
 
 " No ! " whispers his slave, " I did not dare to. I I 
 was afraid you might not like it." 
 
 " Quite right ! And now you recollect that I told you 
 that to-day you must promise to make me happy, or tell 
 me the vow that prevented you." 
 
 " Yes ! but there is no necessity of my telling you the 
 vow, Gerard it is gone. I destroyed it last night, for 
 love of you." 
 
 " You, darling ! And you, will you marry me ? " 
 
 " That is for you to say ; light of my existence, my 
 life is in your hands." 
 
 After half an hour of rapture, the two wander off from 
 the hotel to pass the day together ; for Edwin knows his 
 sister is in pursuit of him with her doctor, and will, if 
 she finds him, force him to an explanation, or to the bed 
 pf an invalid. 
 
164 MR. BARNES OF NEW YORK. 
 
 Twice during the day he surprises Marina. The first 
 time, he says suddenly, " Why did you never answer any 
 of my letters that followed you from Egypt ? " 
 
 I never got them where did you direct your corre- 
 spondence ? " 
 
 "Number 147, Boulevard Montmartre, Paris ! " 
 
 Marina says nothing, but does a few moments' medita- 
 tion upon this curious fact, as the address he gave her 
 was the correct one. 
 
 Somewhat later in the day, he surprises her again. 
 
 She has just told him that Count Danella is her 
 guardian. 
 
 " Musso Danella ? " he asks. 
 
 " Yes ! " 
 
 " That is magnificent. I met him two weeks ago in 
 Gibraltar ; we became great chums. He is one of the 
 most entertaining men I ever knew. I'll write to him of 
 our engagement to-morrow." 
 
 " That will be unnecessary ; he will be here to-mor- 
 row." 
 
 " So much the better it will shorten the time." 
 
 " What time, Gerard ? " 
 
 41 The time that stands between me and the day you 
 will be my wife. You see I have been unhappy so long 
 that somehow I fear that I may wake up to-morrow to 
 find you flown, as after that evening in the Khed 
 gardens. How could you make your heart so cruel to 
 me ? Could you not have destroyed what kept us apart 
 then, as you did last night ? " 
 
 " Yes ! " Marina answers. 
 
 'Was it a fear that drove you from me ? " 
 
 1 No ! It was a duty ! " 
 
 And is the duty performed now ? M 
 
 'No 
 
 'Then tell me what it is and we will do it to- 
 gether ? " 
 
 This question is what Marina has dreaded. 
 
 The priest to whom she has confessed has shown her 
 the awful nature of her vow of vengeance, and has lashed 
 and condemned in words of anathema the sin in which 
 she has lived while plotting the murder of a fellow crea- 
 ture, but she dreads Edwin Anstruther's condemnation 
 more. In Egypt, when he had become strong enough 
 
MR. BARNES OF NEW YORK, jrfj 
 
 
 
 for light duty, and had been appointed to command the 
 Provost Patrol of Alexandria, she had once seen a 
 wretched camp-follower, captured in the act of looting an 
 Arab house, brought before him. She remembers now 
 her lover's mercilessly-just, cutting voice, and the terrible 
 glance he threw upon this criminal, and trembles for her- 
 self. " What if he should think her unworthy of him 
 and put her from his heart ! " And she shrinks from her 
 punishment parade like a child would from the rod. 
 
 " Don't you think," he says, after a pause, " you owe 
 to me the knowledge of what has made us unhappy ?" 
 
 " Yes ! " she gasps. 
 
 " Then what is it ? Good Heavens ! You are ill ! 
 You are fainting ! " and he has her in his arms. 
 
 " No ! But as you love me, don't ask me my vow 
 Some day when I have made you think that I am very 
 good some day when as your wife I have tried to show 
 you that I am better than you might think me, I'll tell 
 you all Gerard for my sake don't ask me now ! " 
 
 After a little pause he says very slowly, but very 
 tenderly : " I think I understand you, dear one ; you 
 have made some oath of renunciation of the world ; I 
 have often wondered, why so young and beautiful a 
 creature, not even of our nation, did such noble, gentle, 
 Christian work in all that misery and death of the English 
 hospital at Alexandria. You are a Sister of Charity 
 without the garb You fear I will condemn you because 
 you have given up your vow to God for your love for me. 
 I am catholic enough to respect that vow, and when I am 
 your husband, dear one, will help you to keep its spirit. 
 There's suffering enough in England ; and you shall be 
 the Lady Bountiful of Beechwood Your vow has made 
 you dearer than ever to me. Did it not give me woman's 
 nursing and woman's sympathy when I was far from 
 home ? God bless you ! " and he gives her a kiss of rever- 
 ence as well as passion. 
 
 Marina shudders in his arms. Dare she tell him now ? 
 she had gone into that hospital not as an angel of 
 mercy, but an angel of death. 
 
 She can only gasp, " Don't ! You make me ashamed of 
 myself Gerard, will God ever forgive me ? " 
 
 " For loving me ? Of course he will ! But it distresses 
 you and I shall say no more about it until you ask me 
 
1 66 MR. BARNES OF NEW YORK. 
 
 to help your work in dear old Hampshire." From this 
 he goes off into a description of the good she can do in 
 his English country home ; and how she will be the toast 
 of the county, and the belle of the meets at country side 
 and race balls, when she is the lady of the Manor at 
 Beechwood. 
 
 She listens to him, at ease again, for she knows he 
 will keep his word, and some day, a long way off, when 
 she has shown him how great her love for him and that 
 she has repented, she will confess to him and get his 
 pardon. 
 
 Continuing, he asks her, " When shall the wedding be ? " 
 Here she surprises him and makes him very joyful, for 
 she says, hiding her head in his breast, "The sooner the 
 better." This he thinks is because she wishes to please 
 him, when Marina's great thought is to get away from her 
 old life as quickly as possible. 
 
 A'ill a week be too short a time ? " says this sailor who 
 believes in rapid action. 
 
 " No ! Gerard, if it is your will and will make you 
 happy," she answers simply, giving him her hand. Soon 
 after they return to the hotel and he goes to tell his 
 sister the news. 
 
 As Marina passes up to her parlor, Tomasso, who has 
 been waiting for her in the hall, enters after her ; and, 
 taking off his hat very respectfully, mutters with an em- 
 barrassed air, " Mademoiselle Marina, will you permit 
 your old attendant, who is also your foster-father, to ask 
 you a question ? " 
 
 "Certainly, dear Tomasso," says the girl, holding out to 
 him a hand which he kisses in a stately, reverential man- 
 ner, standing before her in his native, picturesque costume, 
 like a feudal servator, making a figure that Meissonier 
 night have immortalized with his brush, and called the 
 portrait, "An Old Corsican." 
 
 So he begins, in his patois, " This English officer who 
 has been with you so much these last two days the one 
 you nursed when I was with you in Egypt is he a spy 
 that is to betray his fellow who murdered your brother 
 and my foster-son, into our hands ? " 
 
 " No ! " replies Marina very faintly, " No, Tomast o, 
 he is the man I love." 
 
 " He is English. Impossible ! " 
 
MR. BARNES OF NEW YORK. 167* 
 
 " Impossible ? When I marry him ? " says the girl 
 sharply, for she will have no disrespect shown to the 
 man she honors, even by Tomasso, who has dandled her 
 as a child on his knee and is very dear to her. 
 
 " You marry one of the brood who murdered him ? 
 Your brother's picture ! It has gone from the wall ! You 
 no longer dare look it in the face ! " this he utters as if 
 astonished, and then gives a great cry of woe, " Maledicta / 
 You have forgotten your vow ! " 
 
 Every word of his has stung Marina like a lash. 
 
 " Don't reproach me ! " she cries, " Tomasso, don't 
 reproach me ! The Church has taught me revenge is a 
 crime." 
 
 "A crime? To slay thy brother's murderer ? Antonio, 
 your sister has betrayed you ! But I, your foster-father, 
 will remember ! " Then this old man hisses at Marina, 
 " Love has turned your blood to water ! You, a Paoli, 
 have forgotten you are a Corsican ! and for this 
 scum!" 
 
 He gets no further ; his mistress turns upon him, a 
 blaze of fury in her eyes, crying, " I am still Corsican 
 enough not to take insult from your lips ! Though you 
 are dear to me as one of my family, one word of disre- 
 spect to him I adore, to him, who is my lord, and there- 
 fore your master, and you leave me forever ! " 
 
 At this the old man falls at her feet, whimpers like a 
 dog, kisses her hand and begs her to forgive him, for he 
 is as a blood-hound that has grown old in service ; 
 obedient to his mistress* whip ; but face to face with his 
 prey his eyes will become red ; and then all the leashes 
 and lashes in the world could not keep him from flying 
 at his quarry's throat and killing. 
 
 " Very well ! " says Marina, relinquishing to him her 
 hand, " I love you, Tomasso, and I pardon but if after 
 this you utter one word that is not honor to him, I for- 
 give no more ! " 
 
 So he goes out from her and stands as if stricken with 
 despair, muttering to himself, " Danella will have a word 
 to say to this ! A Paoli not a Corsican ? Heaven will 
 turn her heart that such dishonor do not come to us ! " 
 
 From this time he treats Edwin as his master ; for he 
 knows a sign of disrespect would cause the girl he wor- 
 ships to send him from her ; but at times, when looking 
 
l68 MR. BARNES OF NEW YORK. 
 
 at Anstruther, his eyes have a peculiar and not kindly 
 glance. 
 
 As for his mistress, she looks after her servator's re- 
 treating form, and thinks, " The sturdy old fellow, faith- 
 ful in his loves, faithful in his hates he is a better 
 Corsican than I ! " Here she laughs a little to her 
 and cries, " I must send him to Father Enrique, to make 
 him repent like me ! " then suddenly becomes very pale, 
 and mutters with white lips, "My God, what will Danella 
 
 CHAPTER XVIII. 
 
 SATAN ENTERS PARADISE. 
 
 MR. ANSTRUTHER strolls into Lady Chartris' parlor, 
 and asks, " Where's Enid ? " 
 
 " Searching the hotel for you," says that matron, with 
 a serious voice ; " Edwin, you're to go to bed at once." 
 
 " To bed, mamma ! " cries Maud, in astonishment. 
 " Has he done anything naughty ? " Bed in the day- 
 time, to her, is a synonym of punishment. 
 
 "Of course not. He is ill." 
 
 " Oh, ill ?" Here the girl turns her eyes on the sup- 
 posed invalid, and diagnoses his case in an instant. " He 
 looks too awfully jolly to be ill ! " 
 
 44 Maud, you're a very clever young lady," remarks 
 Anstruther. Looking at the girl, a little sea-dog pleas- 
 antry comes to him, and he gives Lady Chartris this shot : 
 M What are you educating Maud to be ? " 
 
 " A lady, of course ! Why do you ask ? " 
 
 " Oh ! " here he puts a critical eye on the girl's ab- 
 breviated costume, and replies. 4< I had a suspicion you 
 were bringing her up for the ballet." 
 
 44 Chestnuts ! " screams Maud, merrily. 
 
 44 1 don't like sailor jokes before children," says the 
 widow, with a very red face, and, 4t What do mean by 
 chestnuts, Maud ? " for Maud has learnt this American- 
 ism from Mr. Barnes. 
 
 14 1 mean I've heard that thing before ! " laughs the 
 miserable infant, rushing to her fate : " Von Billow 
 asked me how old I was the other day, and I told him I 
 
MR. BARNES OF NEW YORK. lOg 
 
 I 
 
 was only eleven, but that I had had three birthdays that 
 you had said nothing about, and on which you gave me 
 no presents ! " She emphasizes the presents with a very 
 savage glance at her mother, who says in a trembling voice, 
 " Well ? " for Baron Von Btilow's foreign airs and graces 
 have made a cruel breach in her ardent old heart. 
 
 " Well, then he said, ' Mamma makes you a ballet girl 
 because she is too ancient to be one herself, petite ? ' ' 
 
 Anstruther who has looked on, slightly amused at all 
 this, is now astonished and somewhat shocked. 
 
 Lady Chartris becomes a pale saffron sallow, save her 
 two rouge spots that are now streaked by a couple of 
 trickling tears ; she says to Maud in a voice that permits 
 no reply, " Leave the room ! " 
 
 " You're not going to punish her for my fault, I hope, 
 Lady Chartris ? " asks Edwin. 
 
 " Certainly not ! but I am going to take my child to 
 England to-morrow, away from men who teach her to 
 despise her mother ! " She says this with some dignity, 
 and leaves him, her resolution having more effect on Ed- 
 win's fate than he knows of at the time. 
 
 He is scarcely by himself a moment when Enid, run- 
 ning in, says in an anxious voice, "Where have you 
 been ? You have made me so miserable. Doctor Sand- 
 wich and I have been looking for you all day. He pre- 
 scribes immediate rest ! Now go to bed, dear, and I'V 
 bring him up to see you at once." 
 
 " No doctors for well men, Enid ! " 
 
 " You are not ill ? " She gazes at him astonished. 
 
 " Never better in my life ! " and he emphasizes his re- 
 mark with a hearty guffaw. 
 
 At this she suddenly cries, " Why ! you've got back 
 your old laugh." 
 
 " My old laugh ? " 
 
 " Yes ! The one you told me you had left behind you 
 in Egypt." 
 
 " Oh ah ! Yes of course ! I'm feeling up to a 
 prize-fight now. This morning had you brought force 
 to compel me to go to bed, the fainting invalid would 
 have astounded you." 
 
 " Astounded me ? " 
 
 "Yes. He would have knocked out every Franco- 
 Italian waiter irx the hotel." 
 
170 MR. BARNES OF JEW YORK. 
 
 * Then you are not sick this morning?" and he gets a 
 reproachful glance that makes him ashamed of himself, 
 but he says, doggedly, " No ! " 
 
 On this Enid's face becomes angry, and she cries, " So 
 you caused me, your sister, a day of anxious misery by 
 pretending to faint oh ! what a heartless, practical joke. 
 Then you disappear ; and this afternoon, coming back in 
 your genial quarter-deck manner, with some other of 
 your vulgar sailor witicisms send Lady Chartris in hys- 
 terics to her room, and poor Maud into despair. She is 
 howling now at the thought of being dragged back to 
 England to school ; infamous ! " But this invective 
 ends suddenly with a shudder, and the girl sobs, " You 
 must be delirious, dear one ; I'll have the doctor ! " 
 
 Here Edwin gives another peal of merriment and asks, 
 " Is that a maniac's laugh ? " 
 
 " No ! but what sane reason could you have for tortur- 
 ing one who loves you, by pretending illness?" 
 
 " Monaco is a pleasant loitering place and ' Burton, 
 darling/ could w 
 
 " So that was your reason. You preferred those fright- 
 ful roulette tables to taking me to him ! Oh ! oh ! " 
 Rage stops her, but women are not often speechless long, 
 from any cause ; and, after a second, she exclaims, " No ! 
 you needn't pretend to love me and try to pull me upon 
 the sofa beside you ; and embrace me in your great 
 brutal sailor captain's way. Let me alone ! " She gives 
 a vicious stamp of her little foot, and then shoots at him, 
 " Is this your duty to your sister in the hazard of her 
 life 
 
 Hazard of your life ? What do you mean ? " 
 
 44 Don't you think as my brother and my guardian you 
 ought to take me to England and investigate the character 
 of Mr. Barnes ; to discover if he is worthy, before you 
 entrust my life to his keeping." 
 
 At this cunning appeal to carry her back to the absent 
 Barnes, Mr. Anstruther gives a grin, and having all the 
 winning cards in his hand proceeds to play them in a 
 very lazy and nonchalant way. " Oh ! ah ! I am sorry 
 you don't think * Burton, darling,' worthy of you. Per- 
 haps I had better break off the match by letter, Enid ! " 
 
 " Heavens ! Do you want to break my heart ? He is 
 the dearest, noblest fellow upon earth ! But then, as a 
 
OTK. BARTTE5 OF NEW TORK. Iff 
 
 matter of form, you know it \s your duty to investigate 
 him." 
 
 "Impossible, for a few days ! I have a reason." 
 
 " Then why didn't you tell it this morning instead of 
 frightening me so unkindly?" 
 
 " I did not like to speak of the matter then?* 
 
 " Ah ? " Miss Anstruther is suspicious. 
 
 "But will tell you now" 
 
 " Darling ! " Miss Anstruther is curious. 
 
 " I am going to be married ! " 
 
 " Married ! Edwin ! To whom ? " and Enid is ques- 
 tioning with eyes and tongue together. " It can't be 
 Mildred Lawrence ? She's the only English girl here." 
 
 " I have not the honor of that young lady's acquaint- 
 ance." 
 
 " You know no one ! Great Heavens ! Lady Chartris 
 is agitated ; she fears to meet me Oh ! it is she ! My 
 poor brother, the designing woman is old enough to be 
 your mother ! " 
 
 This is uttered in such agony that Edwin suggests, 
 " Guess again. What do you say to Maud ? She was 
 also excited when I last saw her." 
 
 " This is too serious for fun. What English people do 
 you know here ? " 
 
 "None! But what would you say to Mademoiselle 
 Paoli ? " 
 
 " Edwin ! It is she ! You love her ! " 
 
 " With all my heart ! and you ? " 
 
 " She is the dearest creature in the world ; but I wish 
 she was not a foreigner ! " and Enid's face is a little 
 troubled. 
 
 " Yes, it is hard ! " says Mr. Anstruther grimly 
 " Barnes is one too, I am told. Did I object to him ? " 
 
 " No, darling ! and I hope you will be as happy as \ 
 am ; I can't wish you any more," murmurs Enid. Thee 
 she suddenly cries as if struck by an idea, u Why you're 
 the man she's been breaking her heart about ! That's 
 the reason she used to kiss me nearly to death ; she 
 thought I looked like you ; you were her love that was 
 hopeless. Oh my ! How romantic ! She has a vow ! " 
 
 "Yes," says Edwin, very happy at these revela 
 tions. 
 
 " You know > " 
 
?7 MR, BARNES OF NEW YORK. 
 
 Of course ! " 
 
 Oh ! tell me all about it ! * 
 
 " She was to be a nun. She prayed all last night before 
 she gave it up for me." 
 
 "Why, at one time I thought she was a Nihilist, or 
 somebody that went about killing people." 
 
 "Don't talk nonsense, Enid," Mr. Anstruther says 
 rery sharply. 
 
 "But I am sure she did say something about assassi- 
 nation, and then, Burton ." 
 
 " I don't think you had better tell me what Burton 
 said," remarks Anstruther, with a dangerous ring in his 
 voice, " But, by Heaven ! if he says anything against 
 my angel ! Til ! " 
 
 " Stop ! " cries Enid, with a little tremor in her voice 
 and growing very pale ; for, though every drop of blood 
 in her body is thoroughbred, she is mortally afraid of 
 setting these two men she loves at each other's throats 
 by any words of hers. " Mr. Barnes invariably spoke to 
 me of Mademoiselle Paoli in the highest terms and with 
 the greatest respect." 
 
 "So I had presumed. Marina told me he introduced 
 you to her." 
 
 "Hedi 
 
 " Do you insult him by supposing he would make you, 
 his future wife, acquainted with any one unworthy of your 
 friendship ? " 
 
 " Certainly not ! * 
 
 What did he say about her ? ** 
 
 'lie said that he feared she was breaking her heart, 
 and it was a pity that one so young and beautiful would 
 not let herself be happy." 
 
 " A sensible fellow ! I endorse his remark but re- 
 member, I must have no prevarication in this. If Mr. 
 es has made any charges against Mademoiselle Paoli 
 he shall have a chance to prove them, and if he doesn't, 
 by the Lord ! " 
 
 " Remember I am your sister, and never feared you or 
 any one else sufficiently to lie to them. Now what do 
 you want to know?" says Miss Anstruther with dignity 
 a bright red spot of anger in either cheek. 
 
 "What was the worst thing Mr. Barnes ever said about 
 Marina?" 
 
BARNES OF NEW YORK. 173 
 
 "Well, when she disappointed me about being my 
 bridesmaid, he said " 
 
 " Ah ! What ? " 
 
 " I presume you know some girl in England who can 
 take her place/' 
 
 " Was that a///" 
 
 "Yes!" 
 
 At this her brother looks at her contemptuously a 
 second, and says, "Well I'm d !" He catches the 
 naughty word between his teeth and goes on, " What do 
 you mean, any way ? " 
 
 " I mean," says Enid, who is perfectly content to take 
 all the blame so long as the absent Barnes does not share 
 her brother's wrath, " I mean foreign girls are sometimes 
 queer." 
 
 " Queer, perhaps ; but not queer enough to try, on 
 nothing, to poison a brother's mind against the woman 
 he loves. Enid, I am ashamed of you ! " 
 
 "You can say what you like of m* ! " returns the young 
 lady, "but don't you dare to utter a word against the 
 man I love ! " 
 
 "Of course not ! Mr. Barnes, apparently, has common 
 sense ; I am only sorry that his future wife has so little," 
 remarks Anstruther causticly ; and then he begins to 
 pace the room and look indignantly and reproachfully at 
 his sister, whose meekness, to tell the truth, rather 
 astonishes him, as Enid has a way of generally going into 
 the front rank of the battle and staying there. 
 
 " Why don't you answer me ? " he breaks out, facing 
 his sister and looking like a wounded lion. "What have 
 I done to you that you should try to make me unhappy ? 
 When you wrote to me saying you loved, did I retort, 
 4 He is a foreigner perhaps a dynamiter and an assassin ? * 
 You had only known Mr. Barnes one week. I took your 
 word that he was a gentleman and worthy of your love.'* 
 
 " Yes, dear, you were kindness itself," and there are 
 tears in Enid's eyes, as she remembers her brother's 
 letter. 
 
 " Yet, when I come to you and say : Here is the 
 woman I have worshiped for a year one who did a 
 saint's work nursing the wounded and dying who beat 
 death from my couch, and when I awoke from delirium 
 said, * It shall ; ~^y office to make you well, so * h *t yoar 
 
174 T* 1 *- BAHNES OF NEW YORK. 
 
 loved sister that you raved about shall see her brother*! 
 tace again on earth.' " 
 
 ' O oh ! The darling ! " cries Enid, running to the 
 door. 
 
 But Edwin, catching her, sternly demands, " Where are 
 you going ? " 
 
 "To give Marina a sister's kiss, dear ! ** 
 
 He detains her for a moment in his arms and says, 
 44 You are very dear to me, but don't you think you were 
 a little foolish to-day?" 
 
 44 Don't b-b-bully me any more," whispers his sister, 
 choking. " Can't you see I am c-c-crying now." She 
 breaks from him and going to Marina's rooms, salutes 
 that young lady as her sister, and means it, for, after 
 that hospital speech, not even Mr. Barnes could have 
 made her believe anything but good of her brother's 
 nurse. 
 
 After a few moments Marina says, " Enid, your eyes 
 are red." 
 
 44 Yes, I've been scolded for you, dear.** 
 
 " Impossible !" 
 
 , 1 told him of your vow." 
 
 44 Not what I said to you," falters Marina, 
 
 " Oh, he didn't let me." 
 
 No what did he say?" 
 
 :lo commenced to strut and hector about and look 
 like a lion at bay, and cry, 4 By Heavens, if that Barnes 
 says anything against my angel ! ' " and Knid laughs and 
 gives a little pantomime of her brother's rage ; then 
 suddenly says, * 4 Marina, don't tell him what Burton said 
 to you about not associating with me, it would make 
 trouble between the two men we love." 
 
 The Corsican considers a moment ; then takes Miss 
 Anstruther by both arms, looks her straight in the face 
 and replies very gravely, " Certainly not ! Mr. Barnes 
 was perfectly right; I have taken his advice. My vow is 
 a thing of my past; there is nothing now that can prevent 
 my making a good wife to your brother. Do you believe 
 me?" 
 
 " Don't I ! " cries Enid, emphasizing her words with a 
 tender embrace. " What a curious vow it must have 
 been." 
 
 -ome day I will tell you," whispers the Corsicaiv-* 
 
MR. BARNES OP NEW YORK. 175 
 
 "but not now now it is too sad a remembrance; but 
 never doubt me or my love for your brother." 
 
 " As if I could ! " returns Enid. " Come down, my 
 sister, and make him happy as well as me." 
 
 At this the two girls go together to Mr. Anstruther, 
 when it is settled that Enid is to be Marina's bridesmaid; 
 and then the wedding over, they are all to go to England 
 for another. 
 
 Miss Anstruther looks at the billing and cooing of the 
 two lovers, until she feels like an unhappy Peri standing 
 at the gates of Paradise, then wanders off to write a long 
 letter to the absent Barnes, containing much unexpected 
 and curious news. 
 
 Late at night, as Enid is going to bed, a knock comes 
 at her door, " Who is it ? " she cries. 
 
 " Marina ! " 
 
 As the beautiful Corsican enters, Miss Anstruther asks, 
 " Anything the matter ? " 
 
 " No ! but I thought you might like to talk about 
 him" 
 
 " Come in bed with me, dear, and we'll devote the night 
 to Burton." 
 
 "No, I mean Edwin ! " murmurs Marina with a laugh. 
 
 " Of course ! How selfish I am. We'll halve them ; 
 I'll talk of one, you of the other." 
 
 And whispering of their two Adams, these two beauti- 
 ful Eves sink into blissful slumber; while the early morn- 
 ing train brings into Monte Carlo, the Serpent, in the 
 form of Count Musso Danella, with the apple of know- 
 ledge, which is the root of evil, in his hand. 
 
 CHAPTER XIX. 
 
 SATAN LAUGHS. 
 
 LADY CHARTRIS having wasted the devotion of her 
 ardent but aged heart on the youthful fascinations of 
 that volatile attach^ of the German Embassy at Paris, 
 Baron Von Billow, his remark, as reported by Maud, to- 
 gether with that gentleman's marked and constant atten- 
 tion for the past few day* to a young Hungarian coun 
 
t7ft M*. BARNES OF NEW YOU*. 
 
 tess, have disgusted the widow with the frivolities ct 
 Monaco. 
 
 That lady and her family leave the Grand Hotel early 
 the next morning. 
 
 As Enid bids her good-bye, she whispers to her, ** You 
 arc going straight to Loin! 
 
 " Yes ! trust me to get out of this horrible country as 
 Boon as possible." 
 
 "Then, if you are sure, take this,*' says Miss An- 
 struther, pressing into her hand a little packet, with these 
 words, " It is for Burton. Give it to him immediately 
 you arrive in London. He will call on you. I will tele- 
 graph your address. Tell him how I wish I could have 
 gone with you ; but I must stay to see Edwin mar- 
 ried." 
 
 At the station, just prior to the departure of their 
 train, a gentleman, with a foreign manner, noticing Lady 
 Chartris and her daughter, suddenly starts and looks in- 
 terested. He has apparently just arrived, being covered 
 with the dust and stain of a long journey. After a mo- 
 ment's consideration, he approaches them, and, taking of! 
 his hat, politely remarks, " You will pardon me. 1 am 
 Count hanclla, Mademoiselle Paoli's guardian. You are 
 Lady Chartris ; I saw you once in Nice, but had not the 
 pleasure of an introduction. I recognize you by your 
 inarming little girl ' it not?" 
 
 11 Correct I " returns that young lady. 
 
 " What can I do for you, Count ? " says Lady Chat 
 slightly surprised. 
 
 " Marina mentioned in her letters you wtre the chaperon 
 of her charming friend, Mademoiselle Enid. You arc 
 departing from Monaco ; does the young lady and her 
 brother go with you ? " 
 
 " No 1 They are both at the Grand Hotel. But you 
 will excuse me, Count ; I will miss the train." 
 
 Musso carefully places the widow and family in their 
 compartment, glancing about to see that no one else 
 their party, for he is a man who prefers to be very sure on 
 important points. Just as the train is going he suddenly 
 asks, turning pale, " Marina, she was to meet me in Nice 
 last night ; she was not there ! She is well ? " 
 
 " Very well, and jolly happy f " cries Maud, and would 
 tell more, but the train carries her and her news away. 
 
Sf XL 4ARNTC OF NEW YORK. *U 
 
 DaneJta takes off his hat again, a peculiar smile of 
 triumph in his face, and mutters, " He is not running 
 away Good ! Now, Marina will no longer refuse me 
 my reward." 
 
 Lady Chartris, on reaching Paris, thinks she might as 
 *ell do some shopping, and loiters there, delaying Miss 
 \nstruther's package, but postage-stamps are much more 
 .eliable than friendship, when applied to the delivery of 
 correspondence. 
 
 Arrived at the Grand Hotel, M. Danella examines the 
 register and verifies Lady Chartris' report, then goes to 
 his room and makes an elaborately dainty toilet of the 
 whitest linen, reddest neck-tie, and brightest patent- 
 leather boots ; humming to himself, in the wildest man- 
 ner, a gay little French chanson with a quaint refrain, 
 
 "A Gibraltar/ A Gibraltar!" 
 
 After a verse or two of this, his face becomes very serious, 
 however, and he communes with himself in a gloomy 
 philosophical manner upon what his visit to Gibraltar has 
 produced. On arriving at the great British station, he 
 had soon discovered that three extra officers had sailed 
 from there as passengers on board the Vulture to join 
 their ships hi Egypt ; which easily accounted for their 
 names being omitted from the list forwarded from the 
 Admiralty office in England. They were Charles Marion 
 Phillips, George Fellows Arthur and Edwin Gerard An- 
 struther. 
 
 A little investigation assured the count that it must 
 have been one of these three men who fought the duel ; 
 as it would have been almost impossible for a regular 
 officer of the vessel to have obtained shore leave at Ajac- 
 sio on the very morning of the ship's sailing. 
 
 There are always a large number of English men-of- 
 war at Gibraltar, and information in regard to the locality 
 and movements of naval officers is not difficult to obtain. 
 Danella was soon en rapport with the ward-room messes 
 of half the British squadron. He entertained them on 
 shore, and they : nvited him to dinner on board their 
 ships. He soon learnt that Charles Marion Phillips had 
 gone to the East India station, and George Fellows 
 Arthur had been killed in action in Egypt on the Sea- 
 lark. Mr. Anstruther he already knew was on duty on 
 
BARNES OF NEW YUKK 
 
 the same vessel, which had just arrived from Nice. Mr, 
 Barnes, after falling in love with this last-named gentle- 
 man's sister, and probably meeting the young lieutenant 
 in person in Nice, had suddenly exhibited enough interest 
 in Marina's vow to call upon her, and, by delivering the 
 message of her dying brother, attempt to induce her to 
 relinquish her pursuit of the mam who had killed him a 
 trouble he had never cared to take before. Probably the 
 American had recognized this English officer as the one 
 of the duel. Of the three passengers on the Vulture, 
 Anstruther was evidently the man to be investigated first. 
 
 Count Danella contrived to be invited on board the 
 Sealark. At dinner he met Anstruther, and they soon be- 
 came intimates, almost comrades ; for Musso could make 
 himself extremely fascinating when it suited his interest 
 to be so. Edwin breakfasted with the count, and the 
 count dined with him ; and, when on shore, Anstruther 
 sometimes spent the night at Danella's quarters. But, 
 with all his art of conversation and tact at producing con- 
 fidences, M. le Comte could never draw one word from 
 the English lieutenant about the duel on the shore at 
 Ajaccio. Musso dared not question directly, and so was 
 compelled to look for circumstantial evidence, of which, 
 after a time, Providence gave him all he wanted. 
 
 Anstruther had received his leave, and had told the 
 count he should come on shore the night before his de- 
 parture for Nice and Monaco. 
 
 "You take your baggage with you, I presume, my dear 
 Edwin ? " remarked the count 
 
 " At first," returned Anstruther, " I had intentend to 
 let it go to England on the Sealark ; it's much less trouble, 
 you know. But, as I sha'n't join my ship again she is 
 to be paid off, and may be in the dry-dock before I re- 
 turn to the old country and as my sister may keep me 
 long on the Continent, I have decided to take it with 
 me." 
 
 " Let's go on board now, and 111 help you pack." 
 
 " Much obliged, Danella, but I finished that before I 
 came on shore." 
 
 " Ah ! You make me happy. Then you ae here for 
 the day ! I shall not let you go from me now ! Send 
 for your baggage ! Dine and sleep with me here, and 
 Til see you off in the morning." 
 
MR. BARNES OF NEW YOWL 179 
 
 
 
 * I hardly like to refuse you, Danella, but I ought to 
 bid good-bye to Harrison of the Rifles, and McDermot 
 of the Marines ; they're old friends, and you know I leave 
 the service. This will be my last cruise, and, perhaps, 
 my last visit to Gibraltar." , 
 
 " You shall do both, my young English friend ! " cried 
 the count ; " McDermott and Harrison shall dine with 
 me too, and your last day of active duty shall end with 
 a merry night ! " 
 
 Anstruther sent for his baggage. Danella gave him 
 and his friends as delightful a little dinner as could have 
 been obtained at the Cafe Anglais Paris, for he was a 
 connoisseur in all matters of the table, and as the Span- 
 ish wines were very heady and fiery, Lieutenant Edwin 
 Gerard Anstruther, of the Queen's navy, went to bed 
 rather top-heavy and slept very soundly. 
 
 The next morning the count saw him off on his road 
 to France ; but, as he was bidding him good-bye, took a 
 very peculiar squint at a valise among Edwin's luggage, 
 and cried, " I may meet you at Nice or Monte Carlo, 
 my boy ! So, au rcvoir ! " 
 
 After running this through in his mind, Danella's face 
 becomes very serious, and he mutters to himself, " What 
 a pity he's such a fine fellow but all for love ! Now, 
 that I have fulfilled my promise, my little dove cannot 
 be unkind to her Musso. But how to finish the affair? 
 Corsica's the place ! All Englishmen are sportsmen. I'll 
 invite him to a moufflon bateau Marina shall shoot a 
 sheep ! and then Voila ! " 
 
 This exclamation he fires out of his mouth like a pistol- 
 shot, bursts into a merry laugh, rings the bell and says 
 to the answering servant, " My card for Mademoiselle 
 Paoli." 
 
 In his intercourse with that young lady, M. Danella 
 employs a great deal of stately ceremony, which she de- 
 mands and he tenders very willingly, as he is, in every 
 way, careful of his fair ward's good name. The small 
 proprieties of life the count observes ; but, to gain 
 Marina, big ones are bagatelles. 
 
 " Mademoiselle Paoli will receive Monsieur ! " says the 
 servant returning, and \vith that shows him to Marina's 
 parlor. 
 
 At the door Danella oauses. almost trembles, masses 
 
ftt* MIL BARNES OP NEW YORK. 
 
 handkerchief over his throbbing temples to wipe from 
 them the moisture of intense nervous excitement, then 
 suddenly a flash of longing anticipation makes his delicate 
 features radiant He mutters to himself with almost p 
 sarcastic smile, "At last, Musso, you old fool!" and 
 opens the door that keeps him from the happiness he 
 thinks he has won. 
 
 Since she has read his name upon the card, Marina 
 has been thinking, "What in his wild disappointment 
 will this man do ?" She knows Danella's nature too well 
 to suppose that he will let his dream of existence be 
 plucked from him in the moment of realization, without 
 a fierce struggle, and perchance, if it comes in his way, 
 a cruel revenge. It is the last that makes her fear her 
 guardian. He may tell Edwin of her vow may prove 
 her ministry in the Egyptian hospital was that of a hypo- 
 crite, not a saint She knows the opinion that Gerard 
 has of all deceit this makes her tremble. But here her 
 great love rises up in her and gives her courage to 
 destroy any hope the count may have, and to baffle any 
 plan he may devise to separate her from the man she 
 adores. 
 
 When Musso opens the door he sees a woman divinely 
 beautiful; for the great happiness of the last two davs 
 has left its reflection on her face, which is pale but bean* 
 ing with courage and resolution. 
 
 She comes towards him, holding out a hand that 
 trembles a little as he kisses it He exclaims, "A/a belle, 
 what witchery in the joy of the roulette table to make 
 such a change ? No more the drooping Niobe of Nice; 
 you are the Venus of Monte Carlo. As all things come 
 to them that wait, so has my triumph come to me. We 
 have your enemy ! And, when all that is over, you will 
 keep your promise ? " and would take her in his arms. 
 
 But she struggles from him and cries, "Never I" in a 
 voice that makes him pause. 
 
 " You hardly understand me I think, " he says after a 
 moment, growing very pale. "Beautiful one, you surely 
 remember some time ago you gave me a promise, perhaps 
 not in words, but still, I think we understood each other, 
 Xhat when I had given you vengeance, you should give 
 ne love, and consent to make your Musso happy, who 
 lias but one hope and that hope -ya*l" 
 
MIL BARNES OF NEW YORK. l8* 
 
 " Don't remind me ! " says Marina, getting as pale as 
 he is. 
 
 " My glorious news has excited you ; you are trem- 
 bling, but the eyes of love are not blind ; I can see you 
 are happy." 
 
 " I hope to be," murmurs the girl, " if you will but let 
 me." 
 
 Will not I ! Count on Danella! I can place my had 
 on the object of your vow ! By my aid you will be able 
 to look on the tomb of your brother and be not ashamed ! 
 You can cry, ' Antonio ! Rest in peace ! Your sister did 
 not forget your wrongs ! She is a Corsican ! ' " 
 
 The enthusiasm of his manner and the Man of his 
 speech for one instant make her the Marina of old, and 
 she takes up his strain, whispering with a hoarse voice, 
 
 When the murderer of my brother lies dead at my feet, 
 then, who can sing the Rimbecco to me then, who can 
 reproach ?" As she says this Marina stands as if still a 
 priestess at the altar of vengeance. But the next moment 
 shuddering, she sobs, " Have I not conquered my hate 
 for his love Know that the vow of the Vendetta died in 
 me two nights ago : that my brother's assassin, were he 
 helpless before me now, is safe ! " 
 
 "Are you crazy?" asks the count, becoming even 
 paler than before. 
 
 * Not now, but I was ! Thank Heaven my eyes are 
 open ! I have confessed ! I am absolved ! I sin no 
 more ! " 
 
 " And you renounce the vow of your life for a dogma 
 of the Church ? " he falters. 
 
 " For more ! For my happiness ! For my love ! I hated 
 and was accursed I love and am happy ! " As she says 
 this the count sees an expression come into the girl's 
 face that was never there before, his heart becomes very 
 heavy. 
 
 "You love?*' he gasps. 
 
 "Love? I adore!" 
 
 " It cannot be ! No one could help you in your vow 
 as I can. This this man will not be the slave of your 
 hate as I will he cannot love you well enough for that." 
 
 "Thank God! No!" 
 
 " Ah ! He is some thoughtless boy who will make you 
 his handmaiden ; who will not worship you like Danella, 
 
l8? MR. BARNES OF NEW YORK. 
 
 who has seen you grow up to be beautiful ; who has 
 learnt to love your graces as you became the fairest upon 
 earth ! Pity me ! I have only you." With this he 
 falls at her feet, and with the extravagant gestures of the 
 Latin race, bathes her hands in tears and dries them with 
 his kisses. 
 
 44 You have been very very good to me all my life, 
 ays the girl tenderly, for his despair moves her, and to 
 this moment no man in the world could have been more 
 considerate of her wishes. 
 
 "Ah ! you are beginning to remember at last ! When 
 as a child you cried for a bauble, who gave it to you ? 
 Musso ! When as a woman you cried to Heaven for 
 vengeance, who gave up luxury in Paris and ran half the 
 world over that you might fulfill your vow ? Danella ! 
 the man you are deserting for a stranger the man 
 whose heart is in your hands Come, I will tell you who 
 it is you are to slay, and you will love me ! " 
 
 At this Marina gives a cry, and falters, ' Don't tell me 
 that ! In mercy, not that ! " Then looking straight 
 into his face with flashing eyes, shouts at him, " 1 forbid 
 you ! Dare to tell me that and I shall hate you ! Do you 
 see that bare wall ! My brother's picture is torn from it ! 
 If I have forgotten him, for love of this man, do you 
 think I will remember you ? " Marina points to the place 
 where Antonio's picture had hung until Anstruther had 
 conquered her. 
 
 Danella rises slowly and gazes at her for a moment, 
 and then mutters in a broken voice, " You love him well 
 enough for that ? " Since he has been on his knees he 
 seems to have grown older, his face has more wrinkles. 
 
 " I love him well enough to give up my vow for him ; 
 I love him well enough to make my life one that will do 
 him honor," says the girl proudly. 
 
 " Impossible ! " 
 
 " Impossible ! Within the week I many him . * 
 
 44 Marry him ? You forget, I am your guardian. You 
 are but twenty. By the law of France you mugt have my 
 consent ! I refuse it 1 " 
 
 " I have thought of that the man I marry is not 
 French ; we will bf married where French law does not 
 prevail. You darr not drag me back to France ! I defy 
 ! " Marma utters this boldly. 
 
MR. BARNES OF NEW YORK. 183 
 
 Danella sees she is resolved ; for a moment his face is 
 haggard with misery ; but, in another second, it assumes 
 the appearance of profound thought, as he asks, " Tell 
 me, is the man you love of a noble, honest nature ? " 
 
 " Noble as a god ! " 
 
 " Then, Mademoiselle, my task is an easy one. I have 
 but to go to this very noble gentleman and tell him for 
 the last year that you have been hunting a human being, 
 as you would a beast of prey, with murder in your heart, 
 and, if he is the man you say he is, he will hardly marry 
 a Corsican tigress." 
 
 " Tell him that, and he will say you lie ! " cries Marina, 
 desperately. 
 
 " I'll prove the lie ; and then run him through the 
 body for his insult ! " remarks Danella, with a wicked 
 look, which rouses the anger of the haughty girl. 
 
 " You run him through the body ? you ! " she laughs, 
 "Why, he'd crush your little monkey frame as if you 
 were a mosquito that had stung him ! You prove to him 
 I have an assassin's heart ? I who have been his Angel 
 of Mercy ! I, who proved to him a year ago in Alex- 
 andria by the bed on which he lay wounded that I was a 
 saint. Go to him with your truth, and he'll kill you as 
 he would a dog! Here is his card ! Go to him !" and Ma- 
 rina seizes one from her basket and hands it to Danella. 
 
 At the first part of her speech Musso had writhed with 
 shame, at the last he stands in astonishment ; and, as he 
 glances at the name upon the card, he almost utters a 
 cry of hideous triumph, but by a desperate effort, fights 
 down the joy in his heart, and with an unholy light in his 
 dark eyes mutters, " Edwin Gerard Anstruther ! Is this 
 the man ? " 
 
 " Yes ! " says Marina, who is now ashamed of her 
 cruel words to one whose only crime has been that of 
 loving her too well. " You have seen him you know 
 how noble he is. Forgive me for loving him." 
 
 " I will consider," mutters Danella. " You shall have 
 my answer to-day. Oh ! my God ! You shall repent 
 those cruel words Marina ! " He gives a gasp of love or 
 hate, or perhaps a mixture of both, and staggers from the 
 apartment. 
 
 " I repent them now ! " cries Marina after him ; for, 
 though passionate, she is generous. 
 
I&4 MR. EARNES OF NEW Yu. 
 
 Bat he is out of hearing. Were he within the s< 
 of her voice, it would hardly convey meaning to his ears, 
 for Musso Danella is holding counsel with Satan. There 
 is a horrible agony on his face, but a weird, fantastic grin 
 is convulsing his mobile Italian features, while from his 
 mouth, hissing through his white teeth that are clenched in 
 rage, there comes a laugh, such as is heard in Hades when 
 some new crime, more cruel than ever entered devils' 
 heads before is invented, to make Earth desolate and 
 Heaven weep. 
 
 CHAPTER XX. 
 
 THE VALISK MARKED " G. A." 
 
 A few hours after, Tomasso brings Marina a note, 
 which reads as follows : 
 
 "MONACO, May aist. 1883. 
 " MY dear Ward : 
 
 "You have asked my consent to your marriage with Monsieur, le 
 lieutenant, Edwin Gerard Anstnitber of the English naval service I 
 as your guardian, hereby grant it. formally in writing, as I believe it 
 is thus required by the law of France. Please believe me, when I say 
 that I think your future husband is a very fine, as well as a very for* 
 tunate gentleman. Tender him my congratulations, and mention to 
 him that I will do myself the honor to call upon him this evening to 
 arrange the necessary legal preliminaries for your wedding. With 
 regards, as always, 
 
 " Your affectionate guardian, 
 
 "Musso DANELLA. 
 To Mademoiselle Marina Paoli, 
 "Grand Hotel." 
 
 This, she shows, with beaming face to Edwin ; for 
 Marina feels that the last possible bar to her complete 
 happiness is removed, and imagines that the count has 
 now made up his mind to become reconciled to the loss 
 of her, seeing that her affections are entirely and irrevo- 
 cably another's. 
 
 Enid, who is present, remarks, glancing at the note, 
 " Monsieur le Comte must be a very unceremonious sort 
 of a gentleman ! " 
 
 " Exactly the reverse ; Danella is punctilio itself/' re- 
 plies the Corsican. 
 
MR. BARNES OF NEW YORK. I$5 
 
 "Well! his note doesn't look like it. The guardian 
 proposes to call upon the suitor. Edwin, here's honor 
 for you ! " 
 
 " You see Musso and I became such chums in Gibral- 
 tar. He wants another bachelor evening out of me, I 
 suppose, and I haven't many more free and easys left to 
 me," says Anstruther pretending to give a heart-rending 
 sigh. 
 
 At this, Marina nestles up to him and whispers, " Do 
 you regret Mi Adoratol" 
 
 " Regret that my great happiness is so near me ? 
 Regret that I am losing the mess of the Sealark and 
 the wits of the United Service Club, for your society ? 
 Beg pardon at once for the insinuation, or better still, I 
 will inflict a penance ! " 
 
 He draws her to him, but Marina exclaims, " You for- 
 get your sister ! " 
 
 " Not at all ! " laughs Anstruther. " Enid, would you 
 kiss * Burton, darling,' before me?" 
 
 " The idea ! I wouldn't kiss Mr. Barnes at all ! " 
 
 " Since when ? " 
 
 " Since he sent me this cruel telegram ! " cries Enid. 
 " I thought I'd astonish him a little, and so I telegraphed 
 him, * Marina is to be the bride and I am to be the brides- 
 maid Guess why ? ' and he answered, ' Don't send 
 cipher without key Write to me instantly Your dis- 
 patches have made me very anxious Are you delirious ? ' 
 So dictatorial ! ' Write me instantly ! ' And so snippy ! 
 ' Are you delirious ? ' I'll show him whether I am deliri- 
 ous when I write ! " 
 
 "There's some mistake. He mentions dispatches 
 what did you telegraph him before ? " says Anstruther 
 suddenly. 
 
 " When you promised to take me to England of course 
 I had not time to write, and so I dispatched him this : 
 I've got a copy of it in my note-book * Edwin is here. 
 We leave for London to-morrow morning. Meet me at 
 
 Dover.' and when you pretended to be ill, I sent 
 
 him, * Detained on account of sickness Don't be too 
 much disappointed ! ' Lady Chartris also has a letter, to 
 deliver, but it isn't time for him to have that." 
 
 "Why, Mr. Barnes' dispatch is a great deal clearer 
 than your telegrams, Miss Accuracy ! " laughs Edwin. 
 
I6 MR. BARNES OF NEW YORK. 
 
 a Your * Detained on account of sickness ! ' has mad* 
 1 Burton, darling/ think you are ill, and as he knows 
 nothing of Marina's engagement to me, that bridesmaid 
 message seems like the ravings of a lunatic. My dear, I 
 don't wonder he is anxious ! " 
 
 "Then my stupidity has made him fear for me, the 
 darling ! Yes, if he were here I'd kiss him before you 
 both ; " and, saying this effusively, Miss Anstruther, who. 
 in spite of her brother's happiness, is very lonely without 
 the absent Barnes, goes away, leaving the lovers to them- 
 selves. 
 
 That evening after dinner the count enters Edwin's 
 room with a hearty, jovial, off-hand manner that is per- 
 haps too pronounced to be perfectly natural, and cries 
 out, " Anstruther, mon ami, my congratulations ! You 
 see my au revoir at Gibraltar was a presentiment ; we 
 meet at Monte Carlo ! Let us talk over our business, 
 not as men of affairs, but as friends." 
 
 "Take a chair and a weed, Musso," Edwin answers, 
 and, rising, gives Danella's slight fingers a hearty grip 
 that makes him wince, then suddenly exclaims, " What's 
 the matter, my dear fellow ? You look ten years older." 
 
 " At my age railway journeys tell upon me, and from 
 Gibraltar to Monaco is a very long one that cigar is a 
 good one," says the count with a sigh, as he sinks into 
 a chair in a lazy, nonchalant manner, though his eager 
 dark eyes peer about the room with a restless gaze in- 
 specting every detail. For a moment they seem disap- 
 pointed, but suddenly rest with a peculiar and satisfied 
 stare upon a leather valise, marked G. A. There is nothing 
 extraordinary about this piece of luggage, except perhaps 
 that it is more battered, dilapidated, generally bursted 
 up and ragged about the corners and edges than any 
 other valise of Mr. Anstruther's. Still during the whole 
 interview the count may force his eyes to wander, but 
 invariably they return to the old and dilapidated little 
 dirty trunk covered with numerous way-bills, and seem 
 to verily gloat over it. 
 
 " You are a good traveler, Monsieur Gerard ; you lose 
 no baggage on the road." 
 
 " Not a hand-satchel. Though a beggar of a porter at 
 Marseilles came near placing that one you are looking 
 at, upon the Lyon's train." 
 
MR. BARNES OF NEW YORK. l8j 
 
 44 Ah I" replies the count with a little start, " I am 
 charmed, mon ami, that it did not escape you." He 
 gives another furtive longing glance at the valise, and 
 cries, " But to business ! You wish to marry my ward ! 
 I consent ! I would on general principles have preferred 
 a Frenchman, but I fortunately know and respect you ; 
 and with Marina, apparently, it is you or no husband at 
 all." 
 
 " No Frenchman would do more to make her happy, 
 for no one could love her better," returns Anstruther, 
 and he goes off into a long lover's rapture, at which the 
 count shrugs his shoulders and laughs, and finally cries, 
 4t You are an ardent boy ! " 
 
 " Of course I am ! I don't insult such beauty as 
 Marina's by playing indifference ! I wish to marry your 
 ward within the week." 
 
 "You are impetuous! monfils! But I agree with you, 
 as it suits my plans. I can see your wedding, render an 
 account to you of my stewardship of Marina's property, 
 turn it over to you and be in Paris in time to attend to 
 my own affairs. Good ! I consent ! Now as to your 
 finances ? " 
 
 Here Edwin astonishes the Count by the settlements 
 he proposes, for Anstruther as the Master of Beechwood 
 is very well off; and, being very much in love, is inclined 
 to be very liberal to his future wife. 
 
 In reply the count tells him that Marina would not 
 be considered rich for an English girl ; but, for a Corsi- 
 can, is quite an heiress; and gives him an account of his 
 ward's property, which shows that under the count's 
 careful management it has considerably increased in 
 value and income. 
 
 In conclusion he says, " You will have to come over 
 Ito Corsica with me, that I may surrender Marina's prop- 
 erty to you and make the proper settlement of accounts; 
 also that you may appoint an overseer to manage your 
 wife's estates and remit her income to England, for when 
 Marina becomes yours, I cease to take further financial 
 interest in her affairs, unless my advice is of assistance, 
 when, of course, it is at your service. Now, to-day is 
 Monday; it is decorous and proper that my ward should 
 marry you from my home; she can thus get another look 
 at her country and her island before she becomes a great 
 
l8S MR. BARNES OF NEW YORK. 
 
 English lady. The steamer leaves Nice for Bastia on 
 Wednesday; by the next morning we are there. Then a 
 short day's drive through the most beautiful land upon 
 earth through low hills upon the base of the Rontondo, 
 through orange and olive groves and palm-trees in 
 short, through Corsica in May, and behold us at Marina's 
 home ! On Friday, a Corsican wedding and then theR 
 you must look after your own happiness, which will 
 doubtless be very great ! " Here Musso gives another 
 squint at the valise marked G. A. But seeing Anstruther 
 hesitating, continues quickly, "You can return on Tues- 
 day by steamer to Marseilles; and I can scarcely imagine 
 a more beautiful two or three days of early honeymoon, 
 than can be spent wandering with your bride through 
 the woods of Bocognano, among the romantic slopes of 
 Del Oro and the vineyards of Vivario. Tell Marina 
 it is a last favor I ask, to see her wedded from her native 
 Tillage, in a manner worthy of the last daughter of the 
 Paolis that on her nuptial day she may be a true 
 daughter of ancient Corsica^ and I do not think she will 
 refuse me." 
 
 " 1 accept for her, and thank yea too,** says An- 
 struther, giving him a warm clasp of the hand. u It is very 
 thoughtful of you, Count I can make the necessary 
 arrangement as to Marina's property while there, and it 
 will save me another visit to the island." 
 
 " Then it is a bargain. We leave by the Wednesday's 
 steamer," cries Danella. "Of course you will be my 
 guest ! Mine ! Mint! all MINE I " Musso gives the last 
 with a kind of hissing intensity. 
 
 " Certainly ! I and my sister will be your guests. ** 
 
 " Oh ah, your sister I have heard of her," remarks 
 the count, a slight cloud passing over his face. "Take 
 me down and introduce me to Mademoiselle Enid, my 
 dear fellow. You have a beautiful sister, you will have 
 a lovely bride, may you be happy ! " Then Musso places 
 his arm in Edwin's, and giving one last longing affection- 
 ate glance at the valise marked G. A., goes down stairs 
 and devotes himself to Enid Anstruther's service, making 
 himself very agreeable to that young lady by several little 
 anecdotes he tells of the absent Barnes. 
 
 " You write to him every day, I suppose?" laughs the 
 count 
 
iR. BARNES OF NEW YORK, 189 
 
 No but to-night I shall telegraph him all about our 
 going to Corsica for the wedding." 
 
 At this, Danella looks as if m deep thought for a 
 moment ; and then replies, " Give me his address and 
 I'll save you the trouble ; I can send him our route and 
 ask him to join us and be my guest." 
 
 " Will you ? " cries Enid. u I know I can trust you 
 gentlemen of the old school ; you are always so exact. 
 It would make me very happy if he were with me in 
 Corsica," and she gives Musso Barnes' address, not 
 doubting that her sweetheart will receive the news next 
 morning. But gentlemen of the old school are some- 
 times remiss ; the count forgets to send the message, 
 and the American hears nothing of the Corsican wed- 
 ding. 
 
 Later on Marina comes to Danella and says, " A word 
 with you ! You have been very kind in saying nothing to 
 Edwin that could be unpleasant to me. He thinks it 
 best that I am married from the home of my fathers. I 
 go on one condition." 
 
 "What condition, ma belle? A handsome wedding fr 
 It shall be in true Corsican style. You and your lovely 
 bridesmaid shall be dressed in the costume of your 
 island ! It will be beautiful and happy ! " 
 
 " The condition I make is, that no one speak to me 
 of my dead brother. Tell all the peasants in my village 
 that I have not forgotten Antonio my Heaven ! if one 
 should sing the Rimbecco to me it would break my 
 heart." 
 
 " I will see to it," says Danella, shortly. 
 
 44 Thank you," murmurs the girl. " You have made 
 me very happy. I should like to see my dear old island 
 and the chestnut woods and the white torrent of the 
 dear river Gravona once more before I become English 
 and forget I am no longer a Paoli and a Corsican. God 
 bless you, dear Musso ! " She seizes his hand and kisse? 
 it and leaves him. 
 
 After she has gone Danella repents but only for a 
 moment ; for, in the moonlight, as he stands on the bal- 
 cony of the hotel, he sees Marina kiss her lover good- 
 night, and mutters to himself with a groan of agony, 
 " Before my face Mon Dieu J She has no mercy f 
 Then why should I have oitv f " 
 
I9 o M v 
 
 Wednesday, the morning of their departure ftnrt 
 Monaco, a young English tourist, Jones by name, comes 
 down in great nasty peculiar British rage to the offi< 
 the hotel, and says, with a drawling cockney accent, 
 " By Jove ! I-ah-have a-a complaint to make--*he mat? 
 who has the next room to me, No. 187 ! ** 
 
 44 M. le Comte Danella ! " murmurs the yolite clerk. 
 
 "A count? "cries the cockney. " I-ah thought he 
 was an impressario or singing teacher, or something 
 artistic. He had a queer-looking cove that old chap 
 tnat wears that romantic brigand costume like tenor* 
 sport in hop f ra ! ** 
 
 "Oh! Tomasso, Mademoiselle Paoli's servant,* sug- 
 gests the clerk. 
 
 " Yes ! of course ! There he is with that peculiar 
 sleepy smile the one bring : ng down stairs that old 
 leather valise. Well, curse me if the count didn't give 
 him a music lesson last night, and taught him the most 
 'orrible song I ever 'card. I've been studying Hita 
 you know, and it had nothing in it but death and mur- 
 der and all that ; the partition was so thin, that, blow me 
 up, I thought I 'ad the nightmare ! ** 
 
 14 You will be troubled no more, Monsieur Jones,** sayi 
 the clerk, M Count Danella and his party leave this morn- 
 ing for Corsica. There goes Mademoiselle Anstruther, 
 the English bear 
 
 44 Ah ! give me the dark -eyed one ! ** returns the cock- 
 ney, " the one stepping into the carriage. Ob Lud ' 
 what an ankle ! And awh ! did you see the look she 
 gave the only Jones? My Piccadilly hair catches these 
 foreign gals ! " 
 
 That evening the train from Paris brings to Monaco a 
 young man whose costume and appearance shows hasty 
 and continuous travel It is Mr. Barnes of New York 
 
 In the hurry and bustle of lawyers' consultations and 
 ocean cablegrams, that his settlements on Miss Anstruther 
 necessitate, Enid's first telegram had given him a shock . 
 for it told him that Edwin Anstruther and Marina 1 
 were in the same hotel at Monte Carlo The dispatch 
 about Marina's being a bride made him fearful, anr he 
 crossed hastily to Paris ; there found Lady Chartris ; re- 
 ceived Enid's packet, and learned that what he dreaded 
 had taken place. Unsuspecting it* Manna was about to 
 
XttL BARNES OP NEW YORK 19! 
 
 warry the man who had killed her brother te inar, 
 against whose life she had uttered the vow of the *</*! 
 detta. On such a subject he dare not telegraph, and ths 
 seven-twenty express that leaves Paris on Tuesday night 
 bears him as fast as steam can bring him, through Lyons 
 Marseilles and Nice, and into Monaco, Wednesday even 
 ing. 
 
 He hurries to the Grand Hotel and says in an un- 
 usually excited voice, " Take my card to Miss Anstruther! '' 
 The terrible errand he comes on crushes even the joy oi 
 meeting her. 
 
 " Mr. Barnes," replies the clerk, who knows him very 
 well, " Miss Anstruther left Monte Carlo this morning 
 together with her brother." 
 
 * For England ? I missed them on the way." 
 " No for Corsica.' 
 
 " For Corsica ? " gasps Barnes, who has just received 
 one of the few genuine sensations of his life. "Good 
 Heavens ! for what ? " 
 
 "For Mr. Anstruther's marriage to Mademoiselle 
 Paoli. Count Danella and that young lady left at the 
 same time. The ceremony takes place on Friday, I be- 
 lieve, at the young lady's family estate, on the island. 
 You seem surprised." 
 
 " A -little," murmurs Barnes. I wonder they did not 
 notify me ! " 
 
 " I think they did, sir.** I heard Count Danella ask 
 Mademoiselle Anstruther for your London address in 
 order to in/ite you to the wedding. They were standing 
 within hearing of this desk, sir, on Monday evening." 
 
 "What time did you say?" 
 
 "Monday evening about nine o'clock/' 
 
 Barnes knows he was in London that night till twelve 
 & clock ; but his faculties are gradually coming back ta 
 him, and he returns, " Must have left there before its 
 arrived. Which route did the party take to Corsica f * 
 
 M Their trunks were labeled Nice and Bastia" 
 
 ' 4 And the steamer leaves Nice ? " 
 
 * To-day, sir, Wednesday ! Five P. M/ 
 
 i *Then I've missed it! All right!" says Barnes 
 -* Order a little dinner for me as soon as possible. I'll 
 be back in a few minutes. No need to take my valise tfc 
 ft room ; X leave, by the next traia** 
 
,0.2 MR. BARKB8 OT IfRW YORK. 
 
 He hurries to the telegraph office and there discovert 
 that no messages whatsoever were sent to him oo 
 Monday, Tuesday or Wednesday Danella had takes 
 bis address to make Enid think he was notified, and pre 
 vent her sending him a dispatch. He telegraphs Nice 
 and finds the Bastia steamer has already sailed. It ts 
 half -past six now. 
 
 The more he meditates upon the affair the less he likej 
 It ; for as he turns the matter over in his mind, Musso'g 
 significant words to him in Nice flash through his bi 
 
 * If we an lure him to Corsica and kill him there^ Afa 
 Paoli will be blessed by a native jury as the guardian angel 
 of her brothers tomb! 9 " They illumine and make distinct 
 the outlines of the gloomy problem he has already formed 
 in his mind. 
 
 Danella was using Edwin's love for the girl to entice 
 Anstruther to Corsica, that, after his murder, his assassin 
 might be safe! If Marina loved the Englishman, 
 Danella would hate him ; if she did not love him, then 
 ihe would have no compunctions in slaying the murderer 
 of her brother her creed taught her it was j 
 
 Whether she loves Edwin or loves him not, this horrible 
 marriage must be stopped, he thinks ; and sends, via the 
 cable to Bastia, the following dispatch 
 
 - MONACO, May 93d. 1883. 
 
 * To Miss Enid Anstruther. 
 
 " On board tteamer to arrive from Nice. 
 
 " Delay your brother's marriage by every means in your power till 
 I arrive. I missed you in Nice, but will follow you to Corsica by very 
 earliest possible vesaeL I f absolutely necessary, as a last resort, show 
 Edwip this telegram and tell him that you know I would not take this 
 tand unless it were vital. BURTON II. BARNSS." 
 
 This dispatched, he has little time for thought, but 
 Dolts a hasty meal and goes down on the train to Nice 
 He soon discovers there are two more steamer routed 
 open to him ; one from Marseilles to Ajaccio, and the 
 other from Genoa to Bastia, and by diligence to Bocog 
 nano. He walks down to the harbor and sees a mart 
 boking felucca that has just discharged a load of fruu 
 *sks the captain a bright Italian sailor in how long 
 be could make the run to Ajaccio. 
 
 an ordinary wind, twenty-four hours ,- with ft 
 feir one, perhaps eighteen." 
 
MR BARNES OP NEW YORXL 193 
 
 With reasonable luck, this !s considerably quicker than 
 either of the steam lines, whose boats do not leave foe 
 several days, will carry him to his destination. 
 
 He makes a bargain with the captain to take him U 
 Corsica, and asks, " When can you sail ? " 
 
 " To-morrow morning." 
 
 * No use It must be to-night withm the hoar f " 
 -Impossible I " 
 
 ;? Within the half hour and I double your money !* 
 *' I weigh anchor in fifteen minutes ! " cries the captain, 
 and he gets his ragged half-naked crew at work with a 
 will ; replacing one or two who are not within reach by 
 a couple of loiterers on the quay, 
 
 Barnes aids him with all his might, and being some- 
 thing of a yachtsman pushes the crew ahead, so that the 
 little vessel is soon under way and heading for Corsica 
 with every sail that will draw expanded to the light 
 southern breeze. 
 
 * And now," cries Barnes, " if you put me in Ajaccio 
 by Thursday afternoon, three times the money I prom- 
 ised you, captain, and a doubloon apiece for every man 
 and boy of your crew." 
 
 Inspired by the offer of this man, they call the crazy 
 American, the sailors work with a will, and as the sun 
 rises in the morning a faint blue speck is on the horizon 
 that the captain tells him is Corsica 
 
 But, as the day comes up, the breeze, that has never 
 been very strong, goes down ; and soon the light vessel 
 rolls upon the lazy swell of an unrippled sea, while the 
 burning Mediterranean sun shines on the white sails that 
 flap against the lateen yards, and the blue speck in the 
 korizon ceases to become larger. 
 
 All that night, Barnes has kept his mind on but one 
 thing ; and that was to keep the crew up to their work 
 so as to get every particle of speed that was in the 
 /elucca, out of her. 
 
 Now that further exertion for the time is useless, he 
 begins to fear what may be the result of all this last mis 
 arable day has brought to him. They are taking Enid's 
 brother to the land of the Vendetta, to murder him , 
 what fate will come to the sister? He knows the spirit 
 and courage of his love ; she is no girl to let the brother 
 uf b.er childhood be slain at her side and uot; do he* 
 
104 ** BARNES OF NEW YORK. 
 
 utmost to save him perchance dying with him or fof 
 him ; what if they kill her too f 
 
 At this sickening thought, his face grows deathly pale ; 
 he trembles as he falters to himself, " What if I hava 
 seen the last of her bright face ? Could I live without 
 her now ? M and with a groan Barnes sinks upon the deck, 
 and gazing with bloodshot eyes at that far off speck of 
 blue upon the shining sea, cries, " OH, GOD ! FOR A 
 
 MTTLE BRUZ& TO CARRY ME TO CORSICA IN TIMS f " 
 
MR. BARNES OF NEW 
 
 BOOK V 
 
 THE CORSICAN WEDDING 
 
 CHAPTER XXL 
 
 THE HOME OP THE VENDETTA 
 
 ' * HERE ! the land of the Corsican Brothers j and 
 there," (pointing to seaward) "the island of Monte 
 Cristo r I am in the region of romance ! " cries Miss 
 Anstruther as she is assisted onto the quay at Bastia by 
 Danella. " Have you a vendetta of your own every day. 
 Monsieur le Comte?" 
 
 " Yes ! with breakfast ! M returns that gentleman, giv 
 ing a vivacious laugh. 
 
 The voyage has been a pleasant one. The Mediter- 
 ranean all night has been placid as an inland lake ; the 
 ladies have suffered no pangs of sea-sickness and the 
 bridal party are in the highest spirits, though Danella in 
 appearance is the happiest of them all. 
 
 Enid says to him, " You are so merry, one would think 
 you were to be the bridegroom, Count." 
 
 At this, Musso gives a jovial chuckle, and replies 
 gallantly, " Ah ! yes ! Mademoiselle, if you were to be the 
 bride. Mon Dieu ! if I were the absent Monsieur Barnes." 
 Here he gives a playful groan ; but being reminded by 
 this that he has a little commission to execute, cries, 
 " Anstruther ! take both the ladies on your hands for a 
 minute ! " then as the party have already breakfasted on 
 board the steamer, and are only watting while the horses 
 are being put to their carriage, Musso strolls to the little 
 telegraph office, catching the clerk just coming out, with 
 i message in his hand, 
 
 44 1 called," says Danella, "to see if you have received 
 
iQ6 MR, BARNES OF NEW YORK 
 
 a dispatch for Mademoiselle Enid Anstruther or her 
 brother? They are of my party who arrived from Nice 
 this morning." 
 
 " Yes, Monsieur le Cerate," replies the clerk, for 
 Musso's large possessions on the island cause him to be 
 generally known. "I was just going to try and deliver 
 it It is for the young lady. " 
 
 "Glad to have saved you your trouble, man ami/ 99 
 returns Danella with a smile. As he receives the message 
 he carelessly asks, <% Where did this come from ?" 
 
 " Monte Carlo." 
 
 The count checks a start of surprise and strolls back 
 muttering to himself, " Monsieur Barnes has caught a 
 sniff of the scent. Monte Carlo! If he had stopped in 
 Nice en route from Paris he would have overtaken us. 
 Behold the beauties of an analytical mind ! " He gazes 
 at the telegram, gives a little laugh and goes on, " Now, 
 he cannot interfere till they are married ! And then ! 
 Voila, taut est fini" 
 
 Every preparation has been thoughtfully made in 
 advance by the count Fresh horses await the party at 
 the post stations, and their journey through the beautiful 
 scenery of the lovely and romantic island that, in May, 
 is at its best and brightest is a rapid and easy one. 
 
 The baggage of the party follows in a wagon ; upon 
 the front seat of which sits old Tomasso, with the same 
 quiet, sleepy smile on his uncompromising blood-hound 
 face that it has worn ever since Danella came to Monte 
 Carlo. Beside him lies the valise marked " G. A." For 
 some unknown reason, he seems, perhaps because the 
 count has requested him, to have taken a great regard 
 for this dirty old piece of luggage ; for, throughout the 
 whole journey, his eye rests upon it; and he carries it in 
 person to the steamboat at Nice, and off again at Bastia 
 
 All that day, Musso, who is in wonderful spirits, at her 
 request, keeps Miss Anstruther's eyes large with wonder 
 at the wild tales he tells of Cprsican love of family and 
 hate of those who wrong their kindred. A little after 
 they have passed Corte, he points out to her a hous.* 
 nestled in a vineyard upon the hillside and shaded by a 
 few olive trees. 
 
 44 Why ? It looks like a prison ! " cries Enid. 
 
 says the count, "for fifteen year* the pro 
 
MR. BARNES OF NEW YORK 1307 
 
 prietor of it, one Bel Messere, made it his fortress and 
 left it neither by day nor by night ; for Orso della Rocca 
 had sworn against his life a vendetta. On the first day of 
 the sixteenth year, Messere ventured out from it, andt 
 within the hour was brought back a dead man. True 
 Corsican * never forget their vows of vengeance." He 
 looks at Marina who sits opposite to him, but her eyes 
 cannot meet his, and she steals her hand into Anstruther's 
 as if to claim his sympathy and protection. 
 
 " What do you tell such frightful stories for, Musso ? * 
 says that gentleman. " Don't you see you are frightening 
 the girls?" 
 
 "Oh! I think they're lovely ! ** replies Enid "The 
 people here must be quite like the cowboys Burton tells 
 me about in Texas. A wild murder seems so romantic , 
 you forget its horror in its picturesqueness." 
 
 " Perhaps if you had seen one, you might forget the 
 picturesqueness in the horror," remarks her brother, 
 shortly. 
 
 At Vivario the party take dinner; and, as the ladies 
 get into their carriage again, some peasant girls throw 
 flowers upon them, for it has become known that one of 
 the Paolis has returned to be married from the home of 
 her fathers. From this time on their drive is often inter- 
 rupted by similar offerings; though, curiously enough, 
 Marina seems uneasy under the ceremonies and appears 
 to rather shrink from and dread meeting her country 
 people. 
 
 Once two young women, passing them on the road, 
 say something to each other in Corsican patois^ at which 
 the girl turns pale. 
 
 Enid, rather, curiously asks what the peasants said as 
 they looked towards the carriage. 
 
 Musso laughing, replies, " Some old-fashioned maxim 
 that makes a bride blush; these Corsicans have the man- 
 ners of England in the time of Smollet." 
 
 " Then you needn't translate ! " cries Miss Anstruther, 
 giving a blush herself, for she has read Mr. Sraollet in 
 the old family library at Beechwood. 
 
 The count's remark would appear to be true, as Marina 
 does not contradict it but hangs her head as if she were 
 ashamed. Her eyes have a look of anguish in them, 
 
 Anstruther would have possibly noticed this but that 
 
Qfc MR. BA&NB8 Of WEW YOU*, 
 
 gentleman U now seated with the driver, enjoying . e* 
 scenery, and having discovered that Corsica is a wonder* 
 ful place for game, is planning a trip with his bride to 
 her estates the coming winter; where he imagines he can 
 do a little moufflon stalking and partridge shooting, an* 
 perhaps spear a wild boar or two in the forests of Calvi 
 
 Nothing more of any great note occurs, Marina ap- 
 pears to have regained her spirits as they drive through 
 the great larch forest of Vizzavona, and in the early 
 evening descending the beech-covered slopes of del Oro> 
 enter the great chestnut woods. 
 
 Musso cries, " Bocognano at last ! See, there is my 
 nouse upon the hill. It is comparatively modern; I built 
 it myself/' and he points to a stone mansion that is but 
 one story in height, after the manner of all Cor^ 
 country dwellings, but otherwise follows the modern 
 French style of architecture. " You all dine with me," 
 he continues, "and afterwards I take you ladies to 
 Marina's home which, like its mistress, is all Corsican. 
 It is a little further down the mountain and has a lovely 
 view of the Gravona torrent" 
 
 In a few minutes they drive up to Danella's country 
 seat, the windows of which blaze with light in welcome. 
 Every preparation has been made to receive them. Over 
 the dinner Musso tells them his plans for the morrow. 
 Anstruther in true native style is to carry the bride away 
 with the old-fashioned cavalcade to the church, and 
 afterwards bring her back to the count's house, which 
 be is to use as his own. " And I think to-morrow," con- 
 dudes Musso, "that, Mademoiselle Enid, we will be able 
 co show you something you have never witnessed before 
 a true Corsican wedding, at which we hope to see a 
 true Corsican bride/' with this the count gallantly fills 
 his glass and drinks to Marina. 
 
 The young girl says nothing in reply to this; in fact 
 since Marina has arrived at Bocognano, she has appeared 
 to be depressed and gloomy, and to have lost all her 
 bright vivaciousness of the early part of the dyy. 
 
 Enid, however, who has spirits for two, a iswers for 
 
 ner, " The bride will be all Corsican, but wa t until you 
 
 '.he bridesmaid's costume, M. Danella; ) f I am not 
 
 orsican to-morrow, there's nothing in a c ressmakec 
 
 Qh, \xy* I Vsh Mr Barnes were heps ' " 
 
lift, BARNES Of NEW YORK. 
 
 * Yes ! " cries Anstruther in great spirits. " Then we 
 could have two weddings at once, eh, Enid ? * 
 
 Miss Anstruther makes no direct reply to this, but 
 asks the count, " Don't you think it curious he never 
 answered your telegram inviting him to the wedding ? " 
 
 "A little," says Musso slowly, "though Mr. Barnes 
 may be on his way to Corsica now." 
 
 44 But if so, he missed the steamer at Nice and will be 
 loo late ( " 
 
 44 Undoubtedly, too late ! " 
 
 * Nonsense, Enid. Barnes is too busy fixing his busi- 
 ness for his own wedding to think of any one else's ! " 
 cries Anstruther. "Musso, come over to England a 
 month from now ; be my guest there as I am yours here ; 
 and I'll show you one of our old country marriages 
 from the little church at Beechwood with a very pretty 
 bride," here he looks at Enid, "and the loveliest lady 
 of the manor in all Britain to preside at the wedding 
 breakfast" He emphasizes the last portion of the 
 speech with such a tender, loyal, loving gaze at his 
 bride of the morrow, that Marina forgets her melan- 
 choly in blushes and happiness, and Danella, who has 
 his glass at his lips, grinds his goblet beneath his white 
 teeth. 
 
 The dinner is not prolonged, as the ladies are tired 
 and have still a short drive to Marina's home. 
 
 Before they leave, the count takes his ward aside, 
 saying to her hurriedly, " My steward has been to your 
 house. Have no anxiety. No one will make you un- 
 happy by taunting you for forgetting that your brother's 
 murderer lives." 
 
 The girl answers this by a sigh, but presses his hand. 
 
 As Edwin puts Marina and Enid in the carriage, the 
 wagon with the luggage drives up. 
 
 "Place Anstruther's trunks in my house," says the 
 count quickly. " The rest follows the ladies," and, as he 
 drives them away, Musso looks with a sardonic grin at 
 Edwin standing on the portico of the mansion smoking 
 his cigar in the moonlight, and old Tomasso who is 
 carrying the little valise marked " G. A." up the steps into 
 the hall. 
 
 During their short journey, Danella, who is in high 
 feather, keeps Enid in a running- strain of laughter, and 
 
to 1OL BARNES OF NEW YORK. 
 
 eren draws, at tfmes a sad smile from Marina, whose 
 spirits do not seem to rise as she comes near the home 
 of her family 
 
 As they drive op the great avenue leading to her 
 house, the girl hangs her head and mutters to herself, 
 " Ashamed to meet my old servants." 
 
 After 1 'ft ing the ladies from the carriage, and crying 
 to Marina, " Don't be downhearted, Ma belle ; to* 
 morrow the bridegroom cometh f To-morrow we will 
 take you after the manner of Corsica to Monsieur 
 Anstruther. To-morrow! To-morrow !" the count drives 
 of! into the darkness singing a little song with a 
 laughing refrain. 
 
 The two young ladies are received very respectfully 
 oy the retainers of the Paoli family ; though they hardly 
 display the affection with which Enid had imagined they 
 would greet their young mistress on her return from a 
 long absence, and upon such an occasion. 
 
 o>y are all dressed in Corsican costumes, and light 
 the ladies in with (laming pine torches, making quite 
 a romantic and mediaeval effect 
 
 What an antique ceremony," remarks Miss Anstruther, 
 wanning her hands before the burning logs upon the 
 open hearth of the parlor of the house and gazing 
 about the low studded room with its small windows 
 protected by curious iron gratings, 
 
 Marina, standing out of the light, is tapping her foot 
 impatiently on the oak floor, her lips are quivering, there 
 are tears in her eyes. She is thinking, a Not one man 
 kissed my hand and bade me welcome ; not one woman 
 placed her lips on my forehead. And my foster-mother, 
 the came not to embrace me. My Heavens t they are 
 trying to break my heart" 
 
 Enid, too much occupied with her novel surroundings 
 to notice her companion's agitation, suddenly ejaculates, 
 14 Oh ! what a lovely picture f " pointing to the painting 
 Barnes had seen on his visit to the house. " Why, it's you, 
 dear ! You'll look like that to-morrow I Waiting f 
 How appropriate f Waiting for Edwin," 
 
 44 No ! " cries Marina, " Waiting for my dear brother. 
 I can't bear it I had forgotten it was here. Look at it 
 o more, ' and she pulls over it the curtains that drape 
 Iba picture, htdin? 5 -t from view Then she gaze$ 
 
MR, BARNES OP NEW YORK. OOfi 
 
 pathetically at EIUQ and says, -' Some day, in England, fai 
 away from the memory of him, I will tell you Antonio's 
 story ; to-night you will excuse me, dear one ; you are 
 tired ; shall I show you your room ? I I must rest my 
 self ; your brother's bride to-morrow must look worthy 
 of him." 
 
 As the journey has been a long one, Miss Anstruther 
 admits she is fatigued. Marina in person conducts he? 
 to her chamber, with several little graceful acts of hospi- 
 tality peculiar to the island ; then kissing her, whispers, 
 " My sister I Pray that I may make your brother happy ! " 
 
 The girls part with a tender embrace ; and, leaving 
 Enid, Marina comes to her own room. She has controlled 
 herself before her guest, but now she begins to rage and 
 her eyes fill with tears of shame and anger. " The miser- 
 able ones ! " she cries, "to dare insult me, their mistress, 
 on my own threshold." She rings a hand bell, which is 
 answered by Tomasso, who has just arrived with the 
 ladies' trunks from Danella's. 
 
 u Isola, your wife and my foster-mother, why was she 
 not here to welcome me, and take me in her arms, as she 
 always did before ? " demands the girl very haughtily, but 
 with a sob in her voice. " I no longer care for affection 
 from those who are ungrateful ; but, for my bread and 
 my hire, I demand service ; send your wife to me to act 
 as my maid." 
 
 The old man looks sadly and reproachfully at her as 
 he replies, " That is impossible ! Isola heard you were to 
 wed one of the race who killed him. She nursed Anto- 
 nio at her breast ; and so went to the mountains that 
 she might not say words to you that would make you 
 unhappy. Signer Danella has sent a French girl over to 
 take her place shall I send her to you ?" 
 
 During this speech Marina has become very pale ; she 
 ftries, "Send me no one f And look no more on my lace 
 until you remember that though you are my foster- 
 father, I am your mistress." But after he has gone and 
 she is alone, she moans to herself, " My foster-mother 
 will not bless me on my wedding day fled from my 
 home because I have forgotten my vow. Antonio speaks 
 to me through them. The home where we played 
 together as children, cries, ' You forget his wrongs ! Yo* 
 a Paoli * You are not even a Corsican I " 
 
f02 MR. BARNES OF NEW YORK. 
 
 Then this girl, who is now again among associations 
 that teach her revenge is noble, throws herself down by 
 her bedside and sobs as if her heart were breaking, upon 
 this night before the day that should be to her the hap- 
 piest upon earth. 
 
 CHAPTER XXIL 
 
 TO-NIGHT I AM A CORSICAN. 
 
 THE sun is well up in the heavens when next morning, 
 Miss Anstruther, after an exquisite little yawn or two, 
 finds she has been awakened by Marina's kisses. 
 
 " Bride's kisses ! " she murmurs and then ejaculates, 
 " Ah ! How perfect ! How divine ! " 
 
 For Marina is already in her bridal costume and looks 
 a picture of blushing joy. Save the myrtle flowers that 
 shade her heaving breast, everything about her dress is 
 white, but Corsican ; the graceful mandiU ornamenting 
 her dark hair, and the/<j/<fc/te draping her beautiful figure. 
 
 " Quick ! Enid ! " cries the bride. " No more sleep 
 to-day ! Rosita will put your native costume upon you 
 and make you a Corsican like me. Hurry ! my brides- 
 maid, if you love me. I go now to receive Danella ; 
 during the ceremony he acts as my father." And she 
 runs excitedly to the portico. 
 
 A few minutes after Rosita comes to Marina, laughs 
 and says, " The English young lady wishes to see you/* 
 
 She darts to her, and finding Enid not yet dressed, 
 asks, "What's the matter? " 
 
 " Matter ! " cries the English girl ; " despair's the 
 matter ! I've used twenty hair-pins and look at my 
 inandilc" 
 
 " Of course. No one but a native can arrange that," 
 laughs Marina ; she seizes Enid, and her dextrous hands 
 soon put the finishing touches to that young lady's toilet 
 "Now!" she cries, leading her to a mirror, "behold * 
 Corsican ! " 
 
 " O ! ah ! M says Enid. " I wonder if my dressmaker 
 didn't think it was for a fancy ball it's it's so awfully 
 short" 
 
MR. BARNES OF NEW YORK 203 
 
 "Not at all/* answers Marina "no shorter than 
 mine and in it you are a fairy/' 
 
 " Y-e-s, it is becoming," murmurs Enid, taking a 
 meditative blushing glance at herself. " To tell you the 
 truth it's wonderfully fetching ; when you're in Corsica 
 do as the Corsicans do. All the same, I feel as if I 
 were a ballet girl." 
 
 " Then come to breakfast or the ballet will begin 
 without you," laughs Marina, carrying Enid off, who 
 thinks to herself how Burton would admire her in the 
 dress, and makes up her mind it would.be just the cos- 
 tume for an English fancy ball. 
 
 Half an hour afterwards, Enid runs into Marina's room 
 crying, " Here's Fra Diavolo himself ! " and drags her 
 to the portico ; where they see the count just riding up, 
 dressed in full Corsican costume, an eagle's feather in 
 his hat. He is followed by several young native gentle- 
 men in the gala dress of the island. They are introduced 
 to Enid ; and one, a dark-eyed, strong-limbed young 
 man, who is to make the address to the bride, places his 
 bright eyes upon Miss Anstruther with an apparent wish 
 to take the place of the absent Barnes. 
 
 But he has little time for this, as very shortly after 
 their arrival a great shouting is heard ; and a band 01 
 goat-herds from the count's estates on the Monte Ro- 
 tondo, clad in skins and armed with double-barrel guns, 
 come up the avenue, followed by half the peasants of the 
 village of Bocognano, to escort the bride to the house 
 of her husband. For the count, in order that the cere- 
 mony may be conducted in true Corsican form, has 
 placed his mansion for the day in possession of the 
 bridegroom. 
 
 A couple of Corsican horses, with bridles and saddles 
 gaily decked with myrtle and ribbons, are led out for the 
 young ladies to ride. 
 
 But before the bride is permitted to depart from her 
 home, every one gathers about her to hear the farewell 
 address ; that, according to ancient custom, the young 
 cavalier who acts as bridesman makes Marina upon her 
 leaving her native commune. 
 
 He has been a boyhood friend of her brother, and per- 
 haps a youthful admirer of the girl ; and stands before 
 the last of the Paolis conscious of the honor, to make 
 
04 MR. BARNES OF NEW YORK. 
 
 his speech in rough, native eloquence. There is a cer- 
 tain haughty uncultured grace about the young fellow 
 that commands attention, and though Enid does not 
 understand his words, she watches his fervid, vivacious 
 southern gesticulation with an interest that gradually be- 
 comes intense as she sees its tremendous effect upon his 
 hearers. 
 
 The peasants, who have been laughing and jabbering 
 to each other in their excitable Latin way, become sud* 
 denly silent, then look very sad ; and, as he goes on, 
 some of the girls and women cry. Danella has a sneer 
 upon his lips when the young man commences, but it 
 changes to a smile of triumph. 
 
 Marina looks at the orator for a moment in haughty 
 surprise a great blush covering her face then, the red 
 becomes white ; she hangs her head as if she could not 
 look this man, who is speaking to her, in the face ; her 
 hands involuntarily clench themselves, her limbs tremble, 
 and her heart beats as if torn by some mighty emotion. 
 
 At this, the young man makes a little pause ; then 
 takes a stride that brings him straight before her ; and, 
 catching her eye, cries one short sentence, his voice ring- 
 ing out in native patois like a clarion his eyes flaming 
 with excitement 
 
 The effect is electrical ; the crowd give a wild scream 
 that Enid thinks is more that of rage and hate than ap- 
 plause ; and Marina sinks back with a plaintive cry upon 
 the breast of Tomasso, who stands behind his young 
 mistress, and strives to comfort her in his old-fashioned 
 way but with a very wicked look on his mediaeval face. 
 
 " What did he say to Marina ? " whispers Enid to the 
 Cunt 
 
 * Oh ! a farewell to home ! An old Corsican custom ! * 
 
 41 Yes, but what made her so agitated ?" 
 
 " Oh ah, well we are a primitive race, not yet refined ; 
 and in fact you remember what I said to you yesterday, 
 Mademoiselle Enid, about your old-fashioned novelist 
 his speech had a flavor of the grand Smollet ! tf 
 
 " Oh ! the wretch ! " cries Miss Anstruther, getting red 
 in the face. 
 
 Musso leaves her, and taking the orator aside seizes 
 his hand, and says, giving him a warm grip, "Bernardo, 
 four address on the idea I suggested to you was a marvel 
 
MR. BARNES OF NEW YORK. 205 
 
 of eloquence some day I hope to hear you at Paris as a 
 Corsican deputy in the Corps Legislative I " 
 
 In truth, Signer Bernardo Saliceti had seen a great 
 chance in this matter to make a sensation ; and, like 
 most untutored, genial, candid young speakers, he has 
 done so with a vengeance. The substance of his last 
 words being nearly as follows, minus the beautiful soft 
 southern patois that made half their romance. 
 
 " Marina ! when you are gone, none of your loved race 
 will be left to us, save the body of your dear brother, 
 whom we will not bury, until he is avenged. I, standing 
 in his place, speak for him. They tell me that you, his 
 sister, have forgotten his wrongs. Antonio's spirit cries 
 through me. 'It is a lie! Marina marries into the 
 nation who have slain me, that one day she may get 
 within dagger's reach of my assassin.' In that hope, we 
 kiss your hand and do you honor, daughter of the 
 Paolis." 
 
 The effect of this upon the girl's mind is terrible. 
 Though she forces herself to become calm again, aJl 
 through that day, whenever Corsican men do her homage 
 or Corsican girls kiss her hand or look kindly on her, or 
 make her any little compliment common on such occa- 
 sions to a bride, she Liinks, "They do this, not because 
 I wed, but because they hope some day I will kill." 
 
 After a little, the count distributes among the villa- 
 gers gifts of money as a souvenir for the commune, and 
 whispering to Marina, u Anstruther will be impatient for 
 you," places the bride in her saddle ; the same office 
 being done for Enid by young Signor Bernardo, who 
 struts proudly about feeling that he has distinguished 
 himself, and unmindful of the scornful glance the English 
 beauty gives him, for Miss Anstruther has not forgiven 
 him the address a la Smollet she supposes he has made to 
 the bride. 
 
 The wedding procession is soon formed in ancient 
 Corsican style; a spinning-wheel made gay with flowers 
 and ribbons, the emblem of a fruitful marriage, being 
 borne before the bride; and with great firing of guns 
 from the men, and throwing of rice, flowers, fruits and 
 wheaten spears from the women, they go off on the 
 dusty road, along the little village street, under a great 
 arch of evergreens, brightened with flowers and festooned 
 
206 MR. BARNES OF NEW YORK. 
 
 with gaudy ribbons. And so with mandolins thumbing 
 at their head they finally come up the avenue of olive 
 trees that brings them to the count's great house on the 
 hill-side, where a number of country magnates are gath- 
 ered with the bridegroom, awaiting the coming of the 
 bride. 
 
 Unmindful of local etiquette, which in this island sen- 
 tences the bridegroom to be bashful, Anstruther, the 
 moment he sees Marina, springs down the steps and 
 seizing her in his arms kisses her before the concourse 
 and calls her his wife so tenderly, that the girl forgets 
 everything in her happiness at the thought that now they 
 need part no more. 
 
 Then he stands by her side, his simple English naval 
 uniform in marked contrast to the picturesque native 
 costumes about him, every now and then saying a merry 
 word to Enid or Marina as the usual speeches are made; 
 the count demanding, in their quaint ancient way, of the 
 bridesman : If he and his companions are the accepted 
 escort of the gentle lady that they bring with them to his 
 house. 
 
 Signor Bernardo, answering for himself and his follow- 
 ing, declares that they are friends of the beautiful 
 Marina, and have escorted her from affection to present 
 her as the flower of Bocognano to a noble English gentle- 
 man as his spouse; and that they are all good and true 
 men, and no enemies, as they fire their guns with no bul- 
 lets in them. 
 
 The count being finally persuaded that they are not 
 bandits, invites Bernardo and his companions to the wed- 
 ding festivities ; and after this the whole concourse go to 
 the little stone chapel in the hamlet, where Marina Paoli 
 becomes the wife of Edwin Anstruther, promising to love 
 him and do him honor, after the ritual of the 1 
 Roman Church. 
 
 A great joy is in the girl's eyes; within her heart the 
 supreme happiness of true love hallowed by honorable 
 marriage with the object of her pas- 
 
 As Gerard takes her in his arms for the first time as 
 his wife, Danella staggers out of the church, and wiping 
 the damp of agony from his brow, mutters to himself, 
 " Thank God, a man's heart can break but once ! " A 
 moment after he raises his face with a smile of cynical 
 
MR. BARNES OF NEW YORK. 26J 
 
 triumph upon it, and cries, "Apres la noce!" for he sees 
 before him rise up the vision of a supreme vengeance 
 upon this man and woman who make him suffer. 
 
 Outside, under the shade of some olive trees, the music 
 of the happy but solemn Benedict^ floating round him 
 from the open doors and windows of the church, sits old 
 Tomasso, a picture of despair. 
 
 " She has gone from us Marina is now English ! " he 
 mutters to the count. 
 
 "Her name is no more Paoli," says Danella. "To- 
 masso, to-night, when the guests leave us come to me, I 
 have an honor for you ; you shall arrange the bridal 
 chamber." 
 
 The old man answers this with a nod of his head; he 
 cannot speak, being choked by sobs, the tears streaming 
 down his wrinkled cheeks, for he regards this wedding, 
 by which his young mistress becomes a compatriot with 
 the accursed being who has slain her brother and his 
 foster-son, as a funeral of their family honor. 
 
 " Come ! " cries Danella. " Come in and kiss your new 
 master's hand, r l omasso ! " 
 
 "Maladicta ! " murmurs the old retainer, but he does 
 as he is told and does homage to both bride and groom ; 
 though there is a snarl on his face, for he is still a blood- 
 hound under lash and whip, and as yet has not seen his 
 prey. 
 
 " Musso, you haven't kissed the bride ! " cries An- 
 struther, looking very tenderly at the blushing creature 
 who is clinging to his arm. 
 
 " All in good time," says the count merrily ; " I never 
 fail to collect my fees from beauty," and he goes up and 
 salutes Marina quite ardently, though she wonders why 
 his lips are like ice, and starts as she feels two burning 
 tears fall upon her cheeks. But for all that Musso 
 Danella does not repent. 
 
 And, this being over, and the various legal documents 
 being signed both by priest and notary, the crowd 
 goes back again with more firing of guns, and music, 
 and shouting, to the count's great house, where the ban- 
 quet is spread for all comers ; and that being finished, 
 with much drinking of wine, and speeches of congratula- 
 tion and joyous laughter Musso's laugh being loudest 
 of them all the ball begins, at which the youths and 
 
208 MR. BARNES OF NEW YORK. 
 
 maidens perform the tarantella, marsiliana and other 
 national dances, to the music of the mandoline and 
 citera. 
 
 Then, just after the evening has grown dark, the 
 guests with many little peculiar Corsican customs wish 
 the bridal couple good luck and happy union, and depart 
 along the hill-paths and through the olive and chestnut 
 woods to their homes, as the fires of good omen are 
 lighted on the summits of the neighboring mountains. 
 
 Looking at this, Miss Anstruther says to her brother, 
 "To-day has been to me like a Roman carnival." 
 
 " Theatrical, wasn't it ! " replies Edwin. " But I've got 
 her she is mine and that's enough for my earthly hap- 
 piness," and he gives a very proud and very fond glance 
 at Marina, who, at a little distance from him, on the 
 great portico that fronts the house, is holding consulta- 
 tion with Danella. " However, since you like romantic 
 effects, Enid, we'll have all the yokels at Beechwood 
 dressed up as American cowboys and backwoodsmen to 
 follow Mr. Barnes and you to church next month, in dear 
 old Hampshire ; and may you be as happy and fortunate 
 as I." 
 
 " Fancy Diggs, the sexton's astonishment at cowboys 
 coming up the aisle," laughs Miss Anstruther. " Your 
 idea is worthy of consideration." 
 
 Here Marina turns from the count with a pleased 
 smile on her face, crying, " Musso, you remember every- 
 thing," and coming to her husband says, "Gerard, a 
 favor ! " 
 
 " The first one you have asked me, as " 
 
 " As the lord of my life ! Is it granted, Ldce di esis- 
 tenza mia f " giving him a pretty Italian love name and 
 a little laugh at the same moment. 
 
 " Of course ! " 
 
 " Very well. This morning, I was thinking so much 
 about you, I forgot to give this to ray old servants at my 
 home." She holds up a little purse filled with gold. 
 " Monsieur Danella, who is always thoughtful, suggests 
 that you, my Gerard, ride down this evening and in my 
 name present it to them. As their new master it is an 
 act that will endear you to them ! " 
 
 "All right ! To-morrow, darling ! " says Edwin. 
 
 " To-morrow I Have you forgotten the excursion 
 
MR. BARNES OF NEW YORK. 209 
 
 with your bride to the forest of Vizzavona ? " cries the 
 count, coming to them. 
 
 " It will be more appropriate to-night, Gerard, and I 
 want them to love you ! Don't be afraid, when you 
 return I will not have fled from you Mi adorato!" 
 says the bride with a bashful but longing look in her 
 dark eyes. 
 
 " Here is your horse I've ordered brought round for 
 you. My steward will accompany you ; he knows the 
 way, and also how much should be given to each of 
 Marina's household," continues the count rapidly and 
 earnestly. Then he draws Edwin a little aside ; and 
 goes on with a peculiar ring in his voice, " I have 
 placed the left wing of my house at the disposal of 
 you and your bride when you return, may you be 
 happy ! Don't forget Danella's wish was, may you be 
 happy ! " 
 
 "God bless you, Musso, for all you have done foi 
 me ! " cries Edwin seizing his hand and giving it a 
 hearty grasp ; but after drawing his fingers from Da- 
 nella's he finds them cold and clammy from the moist- 
 ure of intense nervous agitation that covers the count's 
 hand. 
 
 " Don't thank me ! I beg you, do not thank me ! " 
 mutters Musso ; and he murmurs to himself as he watches 
 Edwin ride down the olive tree avenue "You are a 
 nice boy ! What a cursed pity ! But nice boys musn't 
 break Musso's heart if they do, Musso is a tiger ! " 
 Then he cries aloud, " Marina ! How did you feel 
 to-day when looking on the customs of your native 
 land, when surrounded, as in other days, by Corsicans ? " 
 
 " That I too was a Corsican ! " answers the bride 
 proudly, a flash of light coming into her gleaming orbs 
 that makes them glow and glitter in the moonlight. 
 
 Every local ceremony, every little ancient custom, the 
 native color he has given to this bridal of the girl, sur- 
 rounded by the friends and playmates of her youth, amid 
 the romance, traditions and scenery of her own dear 
 island all have been planned by Danella's occult mind 
 to produce one effect. What Enid likens to a Roman 
 carnival, what Edwin calls theatrical, inspires his bride 
 with the great passions of her race, love of family and 
 untiring vengeance for the wrongs of kindred. As MUSSQ 
 
210 MR. BARNES OF NEW YORK. 
 
 looks at her face in the moonlight, he knows that his 
 object is attained : to-night Marina Anstruther is again 
 a Corsican. 
 
 The time is ripe. He walks into the house and sayi 
 to Tomasso who awaits him, " You had better place your 
 master's baggage in the apartment set aside for him." 
 In doing this the old man carries in the valise marked 
 " G. A.," that the Count has looked upon with so much 
 love. 
 
 As Tomasso arranges the other articles belonging to 
 Anstruther in the rooms, Danella, attempting to place 
 this valise upon a bureau, by apparent accident, lets it 
 drop upon the floor. It is old and weak, its fastenings 
 give way and its contents fly out and scatter about the 
 room. 
 
 " I am an awkward chap, old Tomasso ! " cries the 
 count. " Help me to pick up Monsieur Anstruther's 
 valuables." 
 
 Tomasso stoops to do so, but has not placed his hand 
 upon more than one or two of the things when he pauses, 
 starts, utters a horrible but suppressed cry and gazes with 
 a face quivering with intense emotion at what he holds 
 in his hand. He springs up, shoves it before Danella's 
 eyes and mutters, " Tell me what this means ? " 
 
 " Not till I have read what this reveals to me, M says 
 Musso with a very grave face, gloating over a manuscript 
 that he has taken from the trunk. " My Heaven, if this 
 is true ! " 
 
 " You think it possible ? " gasps Tomasso. 
 
 * Wait ! " 
 
 " Keep your promise ! " 
 
 Wait ! " 
 
 " Keep your promise you made me on the Virgin ! " 
 hisses the Corsican. 
 
 I never break my word," returns the count. " I once 
 made covenant with you, my sturdy old hater, that when 
 I discovered " 
 
 " To give to me the name of the accursed murderer of 
 my foster-son I see by your face you know it now." 
 
 " Not to-night ! To-night would be too horrible ! " 
 
 " Now ! or I will have your blood also ! " snarls the 
 eld man in a menacing whisper. 
 
 " Listen ! " says the count, and in a low voice ho 
 
MR. BARNES OF NEW YORK. 211 
 
 begins to translate into Corsican the writing he has taken 
 from the valise, and to produce certain articles from the 
 trunk of Gerard Anstruther and to place them side by 
 side with one or two things he selects (rom Marina's 
 baggage, and as he does so, the eyes of old Tomasso, 
 like a blood-hound that sees before him his prey, grow 
 red and shining. 
 
 As this is going on, the two girls sit on the portico 
 looking at the shadows of the great mountains, made by 
 the rising moon, that darken the white river of the 
 Gravona which rushes between them to the tropical sea, 
 and talk in low, happy voices of this day that has made 
 one of them a bride. 
 
 Enid, as she gazes on this scene filled with southern 
 romance and thinks of the fete that to-day with its me- 
 diaeval effects and color has carried her back to the feudal 
 ages, whispers, " To-night, I wonder is there an Eng- 
 land ? It seems so far away." 
 
 " To-night, pray that we go there soon ! " cries Marina 
 with an entreaty almost piteous in her voice. " Pray 
 that I stay not here in this my native island ! Pray for 
 your brother's sake; pray that I stay not here ! " 
 
 Enid looks at her astonished ; but at this instant the 
 count comes out on the portico, and with a face that is 
 palid and a voice that in spite of himself trembles, not 
 horn fear, but from triumph, says, " Madame Anstruther, 
 your apartments are at last prepared for you they have 
 just been furnished from Paris, and are worthy a bride. 
 You will find them in the left wing." 
 
 Marina looks down the avenue and murmurs, " My 
 husband will be returning. Kiss your sister, Enid, my 
 own one, good night ! " 
 
 As they kiss, the English girl whispers, "What did 
 you mean by those curious words ? " 
 
 u Mean ? " cries Marina proudly, " I mean that to-night 
 I am a Corsican, and long for revenge." 
 
 Then breaking away from Enid's arms, she flies into 
 the house and along the great corridor. Enid springs 
 after her, but, reaching the door of her apartment, the 
 bride turns as if at bay. The light from out the nuptial 
 chamber haloing her beauty, as with one bare, white, daz- 
 zling arm raised up as if to warn her friend away, and 
 the other draping the faldetta of shimmering satin about 
 
112 MR. BARNES OF NEW YORK. 
 
 her girlish figure, she stands like the Peri at the gate of 
 Paradise ; her face, an angel's, purified of all the passions 
 of this earth, save one which keeps the doors of Heaven 
 forever closed against her. 
 
 She cries, "Ask me no more, dear Enid! Again, 
 good night ! " throws a light kiss with her hand, and, 
 passing in, the curtains fall behind her. 
 
 The count is looking on ; his face has a cynical smile, 
 though a moment before as he gazed on Marina's loveli- 
 ness, his eyes were full of burning tears and his hands 
 were twitching from unutterable misery. He says, 
 " Mademoiselle Anstruther, we Corsicans are a curious 
 race." 
 
 "So I should imagine!" replies Enid with a little 
 laugh, though there is a perplexed look upon her face. 
 
 "Ah ! " grins Musso, "you judge us by Marina ; but 
 Marina is a bride, and brides are are peculiar. What 
 would you think, my dear Mademoiselle Enid, if I, in- 
 spired by this moonlight, became romantic and said to 
 you I loved you ? " 
 
 "I should think it was time to go to bed !" replies 
 Enid, somewhat puzzled and a little haughty. 
 
 "Precisely!" murmurs the count who has got the 
 answer he wanted ; " will you permit my housekeeper to 
 show you to your apartments, they are in the right wing." 
 He rings the bell. 
 
 " Thanks ! certainly ! " replies the English girl. " Good 
 night ! " 
 
 " Good night ! " bows the count ; and, as he turns 
 away, he wonders, " How will she look when I say to her, 
 'Good morning?" 
 
 As Enid follows the servant to her room, she sees 
 Danella wander out on the portico, peering longingly 
 down the avenue, and notices with a shudder, that in the 
 moonlight, his eyes shine like those of a tiger lurking at 
 
 night for his prey. 
 
 ****** 
 
 It is noon upon the day of the wedding, before the 
 felucca upon which Barnes has sailed for Corsica, makes 
 the headlands of the Gulf of Ajaccio, and nearly two 
 hours afterwards, before he lands upon the little quay ; 
 though captain and crew have all done their duty like 
 men ; for these hardy Italian sailors, half fishermen, half 
 
MR. BARNES OF NEW YORK, 213 
 
 coasters, began to pity, in their rough way, this man who 
 became more haggard and more careworn each hour 
 that calms or adverse winds kept him from the port he 
 fought so hard to reach, and therefore never shirked a 
 pull at sheet or rope that might give greater speed or 
 better pointing to their little vessel. And so, notwith- 
 standing adverse weather, at two o'clock on the day of 
 Marina's nuptials, which is earlier by twenty hours than 
 the steamer from Marseilles which leaves that morning 
 from the French port, would put him there, Mr. Barnes 
 stands in de Belloc's little office in the garrison of 
 Ajaccio. 
 
 At first, that officer does not recognize him ; and, 
 after he mentions his name, cries out, " Mon Dicu! 
 What has happened to you, my friend ?" for Barnes' ap- 
 pearance is careworn, his face haggard and unshaved, 
 and his clothes damp with the salt water of his sea 
 voyage. 
 
 As he tells his story, Captain de Belloc gives a low 
 whistle of astonishment, then his face grows long. He 
 summons a sergeant and gives some orders hurriedly, 
 and when Barnes has finished, says, " You had better 
 have a file or two of soldiers with you ; it may be a 
 matter that will require the police or military I I am 
 in command here and will myself go with you ! " 
 
 "What I was about to request," replies Barnes; "you 
 saw the duel ; and, as her brother's second, can tell 
 Marina it was an equal and fair combat. But I have 
 already sent on an express ahead of me for horses, and 
 your men will not be able to keep up with my fresh 
 mounts ! " 
 
 " Very well ! " says de Belloc, " I'll follow are you 
 armed ? " 
 
 " No ! I intended to procure weapons after I had seen 
 you." 
 
 " Permit me to arrange that matter," returns the offi- 
 cer. He goes out ; comes back with a couple of revolv- 
 ers and hands them to the American, saying, " I wouldn't 
 care to be our friend Danella, if you think it necessary 
 to shoot at him. But you are anxious to get on your 
 way I'll be not far behind ; so au rewir /" 
 
 As Barnes rides out of the town he hears the cavalry 
 bugles sounding, " Boot and saddle." He passes quickly 
 
ff4 mt BARNES OF NEW YORK. 
 
 on, over the Bastia road, leaving to his right the little 
 inn of // Prscatori, where a year ago took place the 
 duel that causes such wretched misery now ; and, spar- 
 ing, neither his horse nor himself, rides desperately up 
 the valley of the Gravona, upon whose banks high in the 
 hills just under the shadow of del Oro, the woman he 
 'oves is ; perhaps needing his aid to save herself or her 
 brother from cruel assassination. As this thought comet 
 to him, he drives the rowels deeper into his steed. And, 
 in the evening, seeing the nuptial fires upon the hills, he 
 knows that Edwin and Marina are now one, and mutters 
 to himself, " Am I too late ? " Soon after, meeting some 
 peasants on the road returning from the /to, he learns 
 that the wedding party are all at Danella's. And so it 
 comes to pass that about ten minutes before Anstruther 
 returns to the count's house, Barnes rides up the avenue 
 of olive trees, and pauses in the shadow of the mansion. 
 
 There are no lights in the front windows, but the 
 American, having spent some days with the count at 
 this country seat on his first visit to the island, knows 
 that all the sleeping apartments of the house are at the 
 back. He hesitates now to arouse the household, as he 
 fears his unexpected coming in this desperate way may 
 precipitate the catastrophe, or bring about some unfore- 
 seen complication that he cannot combat until he learns 
 the present details of this awful social problem. Not 
 for one instant, however, does he think that all is right, 
 for he never forgets Danella's words : " Lure him to 
 Corsica!' 9 
 
 As he meditates he is dismounting and tying his horse 
 to one of the trees in the shade just a little out of the 
 avenue. A thought comes to him he will pass to the 
 back of the house, there he may find some domestic who 
 remembers him for the American had been very popu- 
 lar with the count's household on his former visit and 
 so gain entrance and knowledge. 
 
 The house consists of two long wings of comparatively 
 modern erection, and a main building more ancient in 
 its construction, which connects the two and retreats in 
 a long line of kitchen and servants' offices, making the 
 general form of the mansion that of a great T, the top of 
 the letter being the front of the house, and facing the 
 avenue : the arms, the two wings and the shank, the 
 

 MR. BARNES OF NEW YORK. 31$ 
 
 servants* quarters, that cut off all view of the windows 
 in the back of the left wing from those in the rear of the 
 right. 
 
 The entrance to the servants' quarters is on the right, 
 consequently Barnes passes round that side of the build- 
 ing upon his way to them. He does this quietly, and ar- 
 riving there finds all dark ; not a servant stirring aftef 
 the labor of that day, which had been great. 
 
 But as he turns away, debating what next to do, a 
 light issuing from a window in the right wing catches kis 
 eye, and approaching it softly, he gazes in and sees what 
 makes his heart beat with a wild joy. 
 
 The window is but four feet from the ground, and 
 being half open as the night is warm permits a perfect 
 yiew of all the room. It is a luxurious little chamber, 
 and within it, the mellow light of a few wax candles 
 beaming on her, sits, at an ornamental table, the girl he 
 loves, a happy smile on her fair face, writing perchance 
 to him. The white glistening silk and satin draped in the 
 picturesque folds of the costume of Corsica hang about 
 the girl in unstudied beauty. Being alone, her attitude 
 has a lazy abandon; one perfect ankle in its silken stock- 
 ing, and one little foot in its dainty slipper peeping out 
 into the light which flashes on her white arms and maiden 
 bust, as she raises the paper to her lips, gives a little 
 blush, kisses it and murmurs, " For him ! " Had Barnes 
 time he would linger on the lovely picture, but in his 
 mind there is but one thought. This being, the fear of 
 losing whom has shown him how greatly he loves her, 
 knows of no evil to her brother, and above all, herself is 
 safe. 
 
 He gently calls her by a little name that will tell her 
 who he is ; for he wishes to save her as much as possible 
 the great shock he feels must fall upon her soon. 
 
 At his voice, coming through the open casement, Enid 
 starts and trembles ; but as he repeats her name, she is 
 up and at the window with a wonderful happiness on her 
 face, murmuring, " My own ! Here ? How astonishing ! 
 How marvelous ! How delightful ! Welcome ! " and 
 stooping down places her fair lips to his. Then, seeing 
 the disorder of his dust and travel-stained attire, and 
 the lines of care these last three days have left upon his 
 unshaven and haggard face, her own becomes white, and 
 
916 MR. BARNES OF NEW YORK. 
 
 she gasps, " Good Heavens ! Has misfortune come to 
 us?" 
 
 " Listen ! " says Barnes, " and do not interrupt me, 
 but answer my questions straight, for seconds may now 
 mean " he takes her hand in his to give her comfort 
 " your brother's life." 
 
 She gives a little shudder, but obeying his instruction 
 simr/ly says with pale lips, " Ask." 
 
 " Did you attempt to postpone your brother's marriage 
 as I telegraphed you ? M 
 
 "A telegram ! I never got it" 
 
 " You came through Bastia ? " 
 
 * Yes, on Thursday morning, by steamer, from Nice." 
 
 "The infernal villain !" mutters Barnes, and then he 
 suddenly astounds Enid by saying, " Go and tell your 
 brother I must see him at once ! " 
 
 " I dare not," whispers the girl. 
 
 " Then I'll go myself 1 Where is he ? " returns Barnes, 
 springing in the window. 
 
 But she seizes his arm and ejaculates, " Are you mad I 
 He'd hate you forever I This is his wedding night" 
 
 " There is no time for sentiment ! It is life and death 
 and quick life and death too ! Darling, be brave 
 while I explain something too horrible almost for belief 
 but still, Heaven helps us all the truth." He takes 
 her in his arms to give her courage, and tells the girl 
 shortly and quickly why he has traveled day and night 
 without sleep or rest to reach Corsica in time. And as 
 he does so Enid shivers as he holds her, and trembling 
 cries, " Have mercy on them ! This will break both their 
 hear 
 
 But when he speaks of Marina's vow and what he fears 
 may happen to her brother, the girl starts from him and 
 looking at him wildly, gasps, " You are insane! Kill 
 Edwin? Sht? as well ask me if I would kill you* 
 Whatever Danella does, be sure of Marina. She does 
 not know. * 
 
 " Not to-day, perhaps," says Barnes, examining his 
 revolvers and carefully testing both trigger and cylinder 
 " And I must be by your brother's side before she 
 does, for to-night, as I believe I live, I believe Da; 
 will tell her. He loves Marina ; he has lost her, and he 
 has the passions of a . Good God! sJu knows now." 
 
MR- BARNES OF NEW YORK, 217 
 
 And the two start and gaze upon each other in awful 
 silence ; the next instant the American has passed through 
 the door, and is rushing along the hall towards the left 
 wing ; for as he has spoken there came through the still- 
 ness of the night a scream, such as Barnes had heard when 
 Marina was bereft before, save that to despair was added 
 the wild ring of some unnatural horror that might in ar 
 instant change a bride into a maniac. 
 
 CHAPTER XXIIL 
 
 THE BRIDAL CHAMBER. 
 
 As the curtains of the bridal chamber fall behind 
 Marina, the girl is too happy to thoroughly appreciate 
 the luxury of the apartment she has entered. It is a 
 room with many little nooks and retreats in its walls ; 
 and a great window at the back, through which a faint 
 moonlight streams in to aid the burning wax tapers 
 which illuminate it, throwing curious shadows on its 
 polished floor, and rendering lustrous the heavy draperies 
 that hang about it. 
 
 Its oaken floor is covered with soft rugs, but they are 
 all skins of wild beasts ; its walls are decorated, but only 
 with weapons and spoils of the chase ; its furniture is in 
 exquisite imitation of the rude arts of by-gone days. All 
 is beautiful, but barbaric ; for Danella has too subtle a 
 mind to destroy by any reminder of this modern world, 
 the effect of this day's pageant, that has carried the bride 
 back to her old life and old traditions. 
 
 It is a room in which a painter would depict some old 
 tragedy of feudal days, when men were barbarous and 
 women were cruel. 
 
 For the moment all this is unnoticed by her. There 
 is but one thought in the girl's mind ; she is bride to the 
 man of her heart. She is happy. 
 
 She prays, " God make me a good wife ; " and sits 
 down in dreamy bliss to take the mandile from her hair 
 and throw its lustrous masses over her shining shoulders. 
 But as she does this, though the little details are un- 
 heeded, still one general impression of the apartment 
 
si8 nit &ABNKS or mew YORK:: 
 
 comes to her; how beautiful are its draperies. Mediaeval 
 as if woven by ancient looms, the silken hangings com- 
 pletely drape the two entrances ; the one, by which she 
 came in from the great hall-way ; and the other, towards 
 which she steals a glance once or twice with a quick 
 blush, for she guesses it is the one by which Edwin will 
 come to her. These tapestries hang in heavy folds and 
 fall in ample overplus making great billows of silk and 
 satin on the polished floor, and conceal entirely from her 
 view the oaken doors behind them. The large bay- 
 window at the back is curtained in the same rich manner; 
 though the draperies are drawn up in graceful festoons, 
 showing through the open casements the distant moun- 
 tain shadows, and in the foreground, the soft moonlight. 
 
 Stealing from out this moonlight, right under her 
 window, comes to her a weird, horrible, native song of 
 murder and revenge. 
 
 Tomasso is singing the Rimbccco to Marina as she sits 
 in her bridal chamber. 
 
 At first, in her happiness, she hardly notices its sig- 
 nification ; but, as it grows upon her, her eyes become 
 full of tears, for it tells of the brother she has lost, the 
 one that should be here this night to make her doubly 
 happy. And then, as its awful import strikes home to 
 her for now she realizes what it means she starts, 
 trembles, and coming to the window says piteously, 
 44 Tomasso ! Why do you break my heart ? If any hear 
 you, I am reproached forever I How dare you brand me 
 with the Rimbtcco, upon my wedding night?** 
 
 The old man answers with another strophe more horrid 
 than the last, chanting it in a hoarse, angry voice. 
 
 "Away!" cries the girl desperately. "Away! or I 
 will scourge you from my window ! M 
 
 At this two blood-red eyes look at her from the moon- 
 light, and Tomasso hisses to her, " I will not away, for 
 he is here !" and this horrible old man begins to climb 
 in the window. 
 
 44 Are you mad ?** screams Marina, trying to fight him 
 back. 
 
 But in spite of her struggles he forces his way in, 
 muttering fiercely, " Mad ? Not 1 1 But when^<w learn 
 the news, you will be mad ! Woe to you I Woe to you, 
 Marina r 
 
M*L BARNES OF NEW YORK. *% 
 
 Noi it is woe to you, it my husband " she utters the 
 word bashfully but lovingly " finds you here and I tell 
 him your insult, he will kill you ! " 
 
 " To-night, / am the killer ! " 
 "You?" 
 
 * Yes, // Upon the body of Antonio we both made 
 oath of the Vendetta ! You have forgotten, I remember I 
 You would save him I will kill him ! H 
 
 The girl looks at the man a moment, and seeing the 
 wild glitter of his eye, thinks him insane. Then hearing 
 a step upon the floor of the hall, opens the curtains of 
 the door, crying, " Come to me, this man is crazy ! " 
 thinking she is calling her husband. But instead, Count 
 Danella enters, a cigarette between his teeth, that he 
 chews perhaps a little nervously, and bowing, says, 
 "What can I do for you, Marina?" 
 
 She answers by pointing to Tomasso, who stands con- 
 fronting her. 
 
 On seeing the old man, Musso gives a pretended start 
 of surprise and ejaculates, " You here ? Did I not tel! 
 you in mercy to her," he points to Marina" to go 
 away ! Her bridal night ! It is too horrible ! " 
 
 " Never will I go while he lives ! " cries the old Cor 
 sican. 
 
 The words of the count frighten Marina. Tomasso 
 may be insane, but Danella is cool, calm and collected 
 She grows pale and asks, " My bridal night ? Too hor- 
 rible ? What do you mean ?" 
 
 "I mean," says Musso very slowly, "that to-night an 
 awful accident has taken place by which was revealed to 
 this man, who is a true Corsican and loves your brother, 
 soul and body, something that I knew a secret that 
 since you have wed him I would have buried in my 
 icart, forever poor Marina." 
 
 " Since I have wed him ? A secret you would have 
 buried ? There can be but one!" 
 
 " And taken with me into the grave. A secret I would 
 have told you that day at Monte Carlo, but you forbade 
 me to reveal to you the name of the English officer who 
 killed Antonio : and when you said you loved him, I 
 dared not" 
 
 " Dared not /<?///" ejaculates Marina, and then sud- 
 denly cries harshly, " My God ! you mean ? What do 
 
aie MR. BARNES OP NEW YORK 
 
 you mean ? * And growing very pale, strides up to 
 Danelia and gasps, " No more insinuations. If you never 
 spoke the truth before, tell me the truth now! " 
 
 " As Heaven is my judge ! " 
 
 "The truth! Quick 1" 
 
 " Then if I must. To-night, Tomasso Monaldi, your 
 foster-father and the dead's, discovered that the assassin 
 of your brother, Antonio Paoli, was your husband, Edwin 
 Gerard Anstruther." 
 
 If Musso wants revenge he has it now. 
 
 Marina does not faint, which would be mercy to her 
 and spoil the finesse of Danella's plans ; but staggers, as 
 to a shot, and clutching a table that is near, supports 
 herself, her eyes rolling in awful horror as she gasps, 
 44 No ! No t God is merciful ! Edwin ! My husband ! 
 It cannot be ! I'll not believe ! " 
 
 44 Believe ? It is true as the Credo" mutters Tomasso. 
 
 After a spasm or two she grows deathly calm, though 
 her limbs shiver like aspens, and sighs, " Hut I must know 
 before he comes," then cries, 44 The proof s J before I go 
 mad and cannot judge" 
 
 At this the bridal chamber becomes a torture chamoer, 
 
 all speaking under their breaths, interrupted only by 
 
 short spasms of faintness and gasps of pain from the 
 
 n when the torment is too potent, as Danelia racks 
 
 her, by proving it is true. 
 
 11 1 had feared this," he says, his soft Italian voice a 
 little more musical than it is wont to be, "and am 
 prepared. Behold, the transcript from the English 
 Admiralty at Gibraltar, showing Anstruther was on board 
 the Vulture as extra officer, that fatal morning in 
 Ajaccio," and as her hand trembles so she cannot take 
 the document, holds it that she may read. 
 
 " Yes. He was there," she says piteously ; then with 
 sudden defiance, "but that's not evidence he killed 
 
 " Look at these things taken from his trunk that 
 fell and broke open on the floor," replies the count 
 with a shrug of his shoulders, showing her a silver crown 
 with a piece of lead flattened against and made part of 
 it. "See! The lucky money that saved your Gerard's 
 life ! " 
 
 " And still clinging to it, my brother's bullet," gasps 
 Marina. " But it may have come from some other fight, 
 
MR BARNES OF NEW YOR1C. 2 2l 
 
 You may not have found it where you say. Do yon 
 think I will believe easily what is my death ?" 
 
 "With these two hands I took it from the assassin's 
 trunk. What ! You, fighting for this villain ? You 
 a Paoli ?" cries Tomasso in a savage voice. 
 
 She does not answer this. She knows it is true. 
 Tomasso never lies, but says to the count hoarsely, 
 "More proofs!" 
 
 " Lots ! " replies Musso cheerily, for his triumph at 
 times conquers his finesse. "This pistol look is the 
 duplicate of this broken one your brother clutched in his 
 death agony. You know it well ! You gazed at it each 
 day, till love made you forget Compare ! " He holds 
 the two before her eyes. 
 
 " The same ! " she groans. 
 
 " And on the handle of this other one, this pistol that 
 killed your brother, is an inscription." 
 
 And forcing her to read, she sees; her eyes grow 
 large with horror, and this poor tortured girl cries unto 
 heaven, ' My God! My husband's name! My name 
 now ! My name now ! " 
 
 "Is that enough?" Danella softly asks; for she is 
 wringing her hands and swaying as if she would faint 
 
 "Enough? Do you think I am anxious to believe? 
 Give me all ! I'll not despair till I have all!" 
 
 " Then here is certainty," says the count softly, but 
 very impressively, and holding up a paper, " Certainty. 
 This document You saw me take it from his trunk, 
 Tomasso?" 
 
 "Aye ! that I did ! It is his death warrant t " mutters 
 the old man. "Tell it to her, that she may do her 
 duty!" 
 
 Then from this sheet of paper that bears some signs of 
 age, Danella reads : 
 
 " H. B. M. Ship Sealark, July n. 1882, 
 
 "Alexandria. 
 '* Being wounded and about to die " 
 
 "Yes, wounded and about to die!" echoes Marina, 
 * That was the time in Egypt." A dreamy light comes 
 in her eyes, and as in a trance she murmurs, " He thought 
 he was about to die but I nursed my darling till I tore 
 death from him, for I loved him he was my own my 
 
if a MR- BARNES OF NEW YORK. 
 
 dear one I was happy ! Happy f * The last ! a scream 
 of awful recollection and the girl cries out in fitful de- 
 spair, " In mercy, don't let me think ! Go on ! Some 
 one was wounded and about to die Who ? My Heaven? 
 My head ! " and presses her hands to her brow and begs 
 piteously, " Go on, while I am sane ! " 
 
 The count continues, "Being wounded ancj about 
 to die, I make this statement, in case of court martial^ 
 to exonerate Charles Marion Phillips, H. B. M. Navy, 
 who acted as my second in a duel at Ajaccio " 
 
 He gets no further ; Marina has the paper from him, 
 glares at it and screams, "His writing! Enough! I 
 believe ! My husband killed my brother! Let me die bffort 
 ' 
 
 u \\hrn he comes there's other work than dying for 
 you, little Marina! " cries old Tomasso, producing a long, 
 sharp, Corsican stiletto, that he plays with and caresses; 
 for now, having broken his leash, this bloodhound has 
 gone wild and become a wolf. 
 
 I ere f s a little collateral evidence,** says the count 
 "This telegram from the American. He knows An- 
 struther is your brother's murderer and forbids this mar- 
 riage," and he shows her the dispatch from Barnes. 
 
 "And you intercepted it?" Marina ( infamy! 
 
 You let me wed the man I should have hated f You, who 
 should have guarded me! You who once swore you 
 loved me ! M 
 
 "Once!" echoes Danella. 
 
 "Ah, that day at Monte Carlo!" she sobs "Cou.d 
 you not see how I loved him ! Could you not see how he 
 loved me ? And now ! New // N C A V ! ! ! " 
 
 'erhaps it would have been pleasanter to have mar 
 ried me ? " sneers Musso. 
 
 Ac last the girl reilizes the subtle baseness and Jn 
 oarnate cruelty of this man whom once she had respected; 
 nay, almost loved ; a shudder of loathing and dii 
 thrills her, and she answers, "Nof No f Even Ms is 
 better than that. Are you human, and did not tell ma 
 oefore?" 
 
 "You forget you threatened that if I dared to tell th* 
 troth, your British hero would crush my monkey frame 
 M if 1 were a mosquito. Do you remember ' A mos 
 .*f But mosquitos have stintm tod Uaoelt* 
 
JttL BARNES OF NEW YORE. *ft 
 
 Himself loose, cheers her with a cruel laugh, and contin* 
 lies, "Never break a man's heart It is a dangerous 
 thing, petite. You robbed me of yourself I rob you of 
 him." 
 
 44 Of him ! My husband ! that I must never see again 
 on earth ! My Edwin ! for if I looked upon his face I 
 should forget he is the murderer of Antonio and for 
 give ! " she sobs, though without tears, and then cries 
 out desperately, "Gerardimio! My life! My soul! My 
 love? I pluck you from my heart with my wedding 
 flowers ! May God forgive your crime f" With this, 
 tearing her myrtle blossoms from her bosom, she sighs, 
 ''This is my bridal night ! " and sinks down stunned with 
 despair. 
 
 The count murmurs to himself, u The bridegroom wili 
 be coming soon. Per Baccol What a meeting !" and 
 steals to the door of the hall-way, by which he had 
 entered. But there he pauses, for he sees Tomasso, 
 holding the gleaming stiletto, stride down and give 
 Marina's bare white shoulder a sounding slap with his 
 rude hand, such as at other times would make her scream 
 irom pain, crying, " Bride ! Wake up ! There's work for 
 you, brave heart!" then forcing the dagger into her 
 grasp, drags her before a picture of her brother he has 
 hung upon the wall, and under which the count has 
 written two words, " Assassinate J Abbandonatol" as he 
 hisses, "Assassinated by html Abandoned by you' 
 Daughter of the Paolis, remember your oath ! " 
 
 Misery had for a moment stupefied her ; but now she 
 notices the gleaming weapon in her hand. It fascinates 
 aer eye as she begins to tremble and shiver, and says, 
 For him f You want me to kill my husband ?" a new 
 aorror coming into her face, for in the agony of losing 
 this man she worships, she has forgotten her vow to slay 
 kirn. 
 
 " Are you a Corsican, and ask f Have you forgotten 
 your oath and your honor ? " hisses Tomasso. 
 
 Then Marina begins to laugh to herself, us if it were a 
 tunny thing and cries, " He'd think it was a softer stab 
 from my hand. What's one more horrid thing to-night, 
 to me ? M Then doubtless for a little time misery makes 
 this girl insane. 
 
 Standing at the door, feasting upon her loveliness 
 
224 ** BARNES OP HEW TOUL 
 
 her despaii, Danella mutters to himself, 'The br 
 groom's agony is to come. He who stole her from me 
 and chuckles and grins and laughs. " If I could only sec 
 their meeting Could net I ? M Then thinks a moment and 
 says, u Of course ! " At this instant to his ears comes the 
 sound of a horse's hoofs flying up the avenue. He grins 
 again, "The bridegroom is impatient ; I must be quick 
 or I shall miss this rare sport !" hurries away along the 
 dark hall with cautious footsteps and disappears. 
 
 Tomasso looks in gloomy admiration at Marina, who 
 to pacing the chamber like a savage beast waiting for hex 
 prey, now and again glancing at her brother's picture 
 and groaning and clinching her hands. He cries, " Brava 
 There's death in your eye, my mistress ! In you the 
 honor of the Paolis is safe t Remember your brother*! 
 dying agony I Remember you are a Corsican and can 
 hate as well as love ! " 
 
 " Yes t He killed him ( He did not spare the brother 
 of my childhood ! Then why should I ? To-night I am 
 a Corsican, I hate ! " mutters the girl, her eyes beginning 
 to sparkle with unholy lustre as they did on the beach at 
 Ajaccio, 
 
 " Ah ! Now, you are Marina/ 1 crones Tomasso. " Now 
 you are the little girl I carried in my arms ; the little 
 darling who used to play with young Antonio in the 
 chestnut woods, and throw the myrtle flowers upon him 
 on///r days poor Antonio, who even as he died called 
 your name with his last breath in welcome. And will 
 you let his murderer 1; 
 
 14 Never ! " screams the girl, Never i " 
 
 44 This English tiger will not suspect his bride- 
 Remember on the left side is his heart Y " the old man 
 *ays to her as she paces the floor. 
 
 But in her walk the girl suddenly stops and points at 
 the other entrance to the room ; which, not as yet used, 
 stands with its ample curtains down, completely hiding 
 its door from view, and whispers, " There is the place by 
 which he'll enter to receive my kisses ! Kissts / Ha 1 ha ! 
 ha ! M She gives a little cruel laugh and cries, ".Bride's 
 kisses ! Sweet bride's kisses for the husband ! Sharp 
 bride's kisses for the assassin ! " then raises her dagger 
 she could not wait his coming. And suddenly starts 
 und listens ; then mutters, " Quick ! I thinkJ hear his 
 
33*. BARNES OF HEW YORK* 2tf 
 
 footsteps . But one man has a right to enter my bridal 
 chamber. It is he, my husband ! " and takes a step as 
 if to meet him. But doing so falters, with a sob in her 
 voice, " My God I If I look upon his face my Gerard's 
 face I could not kill ( " and then cries out desperately 
 
 I'll not see him through the drapery ! He dies when ht 
 reacts the curtains!" As she says this, she takes her 
 stand by them with flaming eye, and knife uplifted ready 
 to stab. 
 
 " Pity him not! " hisses Tomasso. " You have a right to 
 his life ! You saved it in Alexandria ! M 
 
 He wants her to kill, but these are not the words to 
 make her slay Gerard Anstruther, for they cause her to 
 remember. 
 
 "In Egypt far off Egypt in that hot pestilential 
 hospital," murmurs the girl as in a trance, " I feel his 
 wounded arms about me, my Gerard ! and see the 
 grateful yearning of his blue eyes as I moistened his 
 fevered face, fought death for him and won him ! He 
 was my own! In Egypt; I saved and I was happy! I 
 placed my lips upon his brow and I loved him! Loved 
 him! " She gives a great cry, "I love him still I He is 
 my husband! Coming to me his bride! And I would 
 have killed him?" She utters the last in a tone of 
 horror, then cries, " Heaven forgive me, I was mad! " 
 
 She lowers her stiletto. 
 
 Her face and her actions make Tomasso suspicious; 
 he screams to her, " Remember your oath! " 
 
 " Yes! The one I swore at the altar to-day! To be his 
 wife! " is her answering cry. 
 
 "But I remember my vendetta I" he hisses, advancing 
 w take the dagger from her. 
 
 Then she turns upon him with flashing eyes, and stand- 
 ing, her back to the curtains, cries, " Away ! you who 
 would have tempted me to eternal infamy and remorse! f 
 
 "You will not kill ?" 
 
 " My husband? As soon assassinate my God ! " 
 
 "Then I will do it for you! I hear him coming 
 Give me the stiletto! " whispers Tomasso, about to seize 
 the weapon. 
 
 But Marina, her eyes filled with dauntless resolution, 
 cries, " Back! orl killyevJ He is my husband! Against 
 you , against the world ; gainst my vow ; him I / 
 
926 MR. BARNES OF NEW YORK. 
 
 defend I" and uplifting the dagger stands nerved to 
 strike this human panther as he comes toward her. 
 
 Thus posed, the girl, the soft moonlight falling on her 
 as she leans slightly back, one white arm stretched in 
 unconscious grace across the red drapery of the curtains; 
 the other with the gleaming knife, held high above her 
 head, might be a statue of despair and resolution; 
 despair, because Marina knows whether Anstruther lives 
 or dies, from this night forth, to her, he is as dead ; res- 
 olution, because if necessary, for his life she will give her 
 own. 
 
 Tomasso pauses ; not fearing death, but fearing it 
 ere he does his mission; for he is conscious that this 
 beautiful statue before him, motionless and quiet as a 
 serpent coiled to spring, will, when she strikes, be f . 
 
 Then, with sudden cunning he whispers ! "Too latel 
 Malidicta! He is here! Look! " and points behind 
 her. 
 
 Marina turns her head to meet her husband's face, 
 just for an instant; but, in that instant, Tomasso is upon 
 her. Her soft arms are like wax in his tough embrace. 
 Like a flash, he has the dagger from her, and, forcing 
 her back over a little sofa standing near, with one strong 
 arm upon her white, panting throat, he hisses, " Trai- 
 tress! " and stands in her place beside the curtains with 
 knife upheld in his other hand, ready to strike the in- 
 stant Anstruther's breast presses against the drapery; for 
 he knows in open fight, armed or unarmed, he would be 
 but a baby in that sturdy young Englishman's grasp. 
 
 He has little time for thought, however, for even now 
 he hears steps coming along the passage to this door: 
 and Marina, who has been struggling silently, now 
 speaks, trying to smile upon him as he holds her down, 
 and says, gasping a little, for his grasp upon her throat 
 is strong " Dear old Tomasso: are you not going to lei 
 your foster-daughter fulfill her vow? Forget not I am a 
 Paoli! Give me the stiletto! Let me do my work! " 
 
 But the old man answers with a surly growl, shaking 
 his head, ** No fox is trapped twice! Look at the sight 
 you have so longed to see the death of Antonio's mur- 
 derer! " and prepares to strike, for the steps are very 
 near. 
 
 " Spare him! Don't kill him before my eyes! Deaf 
 
MR. BARNES OF NEW YORK t 127 
 
 old Tomasso, who never refused your little Marina 
 before Mercy for him! Pity for me! Don't make me 
 a widow on my wedding night! " begs the girl wildly, 
 and tries to kiss and fondle the hand upon her throat. 
 Then, for the coming footsteps make her frantic, she 
 begins to struggle and fight like a tiger-cat the strong 
 arm that holds her down, and cries out desperately, 
 * Keep back ! Gerard ! My husband, for the love of 
 your wife, back! He is waiting to stab you! For God's 
 sake, the other way ! " 
 
 But these are no words to keep a bridegroom from his 
 bride they rather bring him quickly to her aid for even 
 as Marina speaks, she hears in awful horror the door be- 
 hind the curtains open ; she sees his dear form outlined 
 against the drapery, and like the lightning, Tomasso 
 strike, with all his strength, the shining blade twice 
 through the canopy deep into the heart she loves. A 
 stream of something red and warm spurts through the 
 knife rents; two hideous hollow groans come from behind 
 the curtains that rustle and quiver and wrap themselves 
 about a body, as it crashes to the floor. 
 
 Tomasso, still holding the crimson dagger, strides to 
 the open window to escape. 
 
 Marina staggering after him cries, " You've killed the 
 husband, now kill the wife who loves him ! Kill his 
 widow ! " 
 
 But he shouts back hoarsely, " For the honor of the 
 Paolis!" and disappears. 
 
 While she, bereft upon her bridal night, turns to stagger 
 to her dead husband; and seeing trickling from beneath 
 the silken draperies a bright red stream that slowly 
 crawls along the oaken floor from out the shadow into 
 the moonlight, groans out in mocking laughter, " I should 
 be happy ! Here is what I prayed for ! " Then screams 
 like a mad woman, " THE BLOOD OF THE VENDETTA ! " 
 and falls motionless and senseless, as the thing that lies 
 quiet and dead behind the curtains of the bridal chamber 
 
22* M*. BARNES OF N* YORK 
 
 CHAPTER XXIV 
 
 THE MAN BEHIND THE CURTAINS. 
 
 IT is this scream which comes to Barnes and Enid 
 and a few seconds after the American's knock is heard 
 upon the hall door of the apartment. Getting no answer, 
 he dashes in followed by the English girl, and sees 
 Marina fainting upon the floor. 
 
 Enid runs to her, crying, " She is dead !" and taking 
 her in her arms with many sweet words and caresses ; 
 for, loving her as a sister, she doubts not his bride's 
 affection and loyalty to her brother. 
 
 Barnes pauses, looking about the room trying to divine 
 what has happened, and perhaps guessing too well; for 
 when a moment after he comes to Enid's side, his face is 
 curiously agitated though his voice is calm. He has 
 rung the bell for assistance, but gets no answer for two 
 good reasons, first, the servants who sleep in the di 
 ell of the building have all gone to bed ; and second, 
 Danella has cut the bell-rope leading from the room. 
 
 He lifts Marina up and places her on a sofa. Then, 
 in answer to Enid's agonized question, "If this has hap* 
 pened to her, what has befallen my brother ? " says very 
 quietly, " In a few minutes she will revive. Keep cool 
 until she can tell us." 
 
 44 But she is dead ! " 
 
 M No more than you! She has received a shock. This 
 is only a trance. You know I was educated as a doctor." 
 
 "Yes!" 
 
 44 Then for this night I act as one. Bring me that 
 water-jug ! " replies Barnes, attempting cheerfulness and 
 devoting himself to calling Marina back to her senses. 
 u Now, little woman, some smelling salts or ammonia, if 
 you can find any." 
 
 44 There's some in my room but my brother ? " 
 
 44 Run and get the ammonia ! ** 
 
 * But my brother ? " 
 
 " The ammonia ! Quick " 
 
 As Enid goes off on her errand, Mr. Barnes looks after 
 her and thinks, " Best keep my darling moving." Then, 
 * No time for anxiety To-night, Heaven help u I fear 
 
MR. BARNES OF NEW YORK. 22$ 
 
 there's as cruel a shock for Anstruther's sister as the one 
 that has brought his wife to this." 
 
 He gazes at Marina. She lies before him, very quiet 
 and pale. Lines of intense suffering are about her mouth 
 that now and again by a nervous quiver gives a faint sign 
 of life. As he does so, a horrified expression comes into 
 his face ; for, on the skirt of her white bridal dress is a 
 bright red spot ; and, looking again more closely, he finds 
 another. From her skirt, his eyes go to the floor ; and 
 he mutters " Blood ! She has marks upon her neck, but 
 is not wounded. Whose blood is it ? It comes from 
 under those curtains ! " Starting up, he is about to ex- 
 amine and discover, when Enid's return stops him. While 
 she is in the room, he dares not investigate, fearing what 
 he may find will be too great a blow to Edwin Anstruther's 
 sister. So thinking very hard what is best to do, he tries 
 with all the limited resources at his command to bring 
 sentiency to Marina. 
 
 In a few minutes, perceiving the signs upon her face 
 which precede returning animation, he rises from the 
 Corsican's side and says quietly to Enid, " Dear one, 
 will you do me a favor? I do not wish this young lady 
 to see you immediately on recovering consciousness. 
 Will you go to your room and trust me to do all that is 
 necessary in this matter?" He takes her hand in his 
 very tenderly. 
 
 "You fear?" 
 
 " Yes, I fear the effect upon her of seeing you." 
 
 " No ! No ! You dread the shock to me. You fear 
 for my brother. Do you suppose I suffer less not know- 
 ing, than knowing ? Why do you always stand between 
 me and those curtains ? There's something horrible in 
 this room ! Something you discovered while I was gone 
 something you dare not ! " But Enid stops here 
 with a suppressed shriek, for Marina rising partially from 
 the couch, interrupts her by muttering in a dazed way ? 
 "Bride and Widow!" and then wrings her hands de* 
 spairingly. 
 
 Enid would run to her, but Barnes places his arm 
 about her, holds her trembling to him ; and the two 
 watch Marina who rolls her eyes around the room, and 
 after a moment stands upon her feet, though tottering 
 from weakness 
 
MR. BARNES OF NEW YORK 
 
 In a moment she sees the American, and horrifies him , 
 for, she says, in a voice of unnatural calmness, though 
 trembling a little from faintness, "You, here? You came 
 to save us, but you did not come in time. What have 
 you done with his body ? " 
 
 " His body?" echoes Barnes, with a very grave face, 
 holding Enid close, for he fears she will faint. 
 
 But his sweetheart is made of better stuff; she tears 
 herself from his arms and confronts Marina, crying. 
 " Whose body ? My Heaven ! Not my brother's ? Not 
 Edwin's ? " 
 
 " Yes, your brother's and my husband's ! " answers 
 Marina, and then goes into an awful paroxysm of anguish, 
 screaming in despair " My husband, that I loved, 
 murdered before my eyes ! I hear his footsteps now! 
 coming to my arms! coming to his death! " and mut- 
 ters, '.'Listen! Footsteps! his footsteps! They sound 
 always in my ears coming forever coming! Coming! 
 Coming! Coming! " and with that takes a stride to 
 Barnes and screams, " Don't you hear them too ? " 
 
 " By Heavens ! Yes, footfalls upon the hall floor I " 
 says Barnes. 
 
 I know his step! It is Edwin! " cries Enid. 
 
 "Yes, the footsteps of the dead," mutters Marina. 
 
 " No! of the living ! " screams Enid, and rushes to the 
 door that leads from the hall into the arms of Edwin 
 Anstruther, who comes hastily in with the flush of eager 
 happiness upon his face, to meet his bride. 
 
 For a moment, the young man is more astounded than 
 they are. 
 
 He says, "You here, Enid! " with a surprised look, 
 and then gasps, " Marina! What's the matter ? " for his 
 bride has made a step or two towards him, her eyes big 
 with unearthly horror, and looking at his face has 
 screamed, "ffis spirit com* to reproach me with his death ! " 
 
 As she shrinks trembling from him, he attempts to 
 take her in his arms, saying, " Dear one don't you 
 know me your husband ? " 
 
 But she gets back from him, motioning him away, and 
 astonishes them all by crying, "You are not my husband? 
 You are his spirit! My husband's body lies behind those 
 curtains ! " She stands with uplifted arm a moment 
 pointing to the draperies through which Tomasso hai 
 
MR. BARNES OP NEW YORK. 231 
 
 stabbed, and then her eyes gaze in fondness at Edwin, 
 and she mutters, " If I could be a spirit too! Now, after 
 the grave has washed your hands of his blood, I could 
 still love you, darling of my soul, without shame to my 
 brother ; though you killed him ! " Saying this, she 
 gazes in love upon him like the Marina of old. 
 
 " Heaven help me! " gasps Anstruther, " My bride & 
 mad!" 
 
 "No!" says Barnes shortly, going to him, "but she 
 soon will be, if this continues." 
 
 " Who are you ?" asks Edwin, seeing him for the first 
 time. 
 
 " Thank God! You do not know me; but n\y name is 
 Barnes," replies the American, who since Anstruther's 
 entrance has looked at him earnestly and curiously and 
 uttered a great sigh of relief. 
 
 " Ah! My sister's sweetheart." 
 
 "Yes, I came here to-night to prevent this. I'll ex 
 plain afterwards. Your sister and I heard a scream, and 
 coming here found your wife fainting. She thought you 
 had been murdered." 
 
 " I ! Impossible ! But her eyes tell her I live now." 
 
 "Yes ! Her eyes see; but her mind does not believe 
 them! You know I am by education a physician." 
 
 "Idol" 
 
 " Let me be your doctor and hers for to-night " 
 
 " Will you ? " says Anstruther. Then he gives Barnes' 
 hand a warm grasp, and mutters, " Give my wife's mind 
 back, to her and to me and I am grateful forever," 
 and there are tears in the eyes of this great strong fellow 
 
 " Will you do as I say implicitly ? " 
 
 "Of course!" answers Edwin, who has learnt disci* 
 p :ne in the navy. 
 
 " Very well, I'll try ! " replies Barnes. " Go to your 
 wife and attempt to take her in your arms again, but 
 don't force her against her will. I want to see her face 
 and hear what she has to say to you." 
 
 While he has been speak ing he has noticed that Marina 
 has thrown off Enid, who has been trying to persuade her 
 chat Edwin is alive, and has gone partly over to the cur- 
 luins as if anxious to draw them aside; and, then, appar- 
 ently not daring to look at what is behind, has retreated, 
 Mering 
 
*J9 MR. BARNES OF NEW YORK 
 
 Anstruther, as directed, approaches his bride again 
 calling her softly by name; and would soothe and em- 
 brace her. As before, she draws away, but this time 
 gives him a loving look and says, " When I am as dead 
 as you are, dear we'll love again," then screams at 
 him, " No! No! Not now! You are his spirit your body 
 u behind those curtains! " 
 
 As she says this, Edwin, who has got quite close to 
 her, fcr the first time seeing the dark red marks of 
 Tomasso's clutch upon her round white throat, suddenly 
 cries in a hoarse awful voice, " Some devil has tried to 
 murder the woman I love and killed my Heaven! 
 only her reason! " and with that bursts into fearful impre- 
 cations. 
 
 And she screams back to him, " Aye ! He put those 
 marks on my neck! Curse him who killed you! " 
 
 Barnes interrupts the cruel scene by seizing Anstruther, 
 pulling him aside and whispering sternly, " Is this your 
 promised obedience? If you are not calm, will she be?" 
 
 He signs to Enid to again soothe Marina who is now 
 Jementedly muttering to herself. 
 
 Gazing at her, Anstruther replies, "Calm? What have 
 1 to look for upon this earth but revenge ! Who is the 
 villain who has destroyed her reason ? Do you know ? " 
 
 44 Never mind him now," says Barnes sharply. " I 
 get your wife's senses back to her; for every minute she 
 is in her present state is against her ever leaving it. Of 
 course, time may cure anything; but, as a medical man, 
 I tell you that if your wife's delusion is not destroyed to- 
 night, it never will be. Acting on that theory, I am 
 ready to take a desperate chance. If it fails, I fear the 
 worst. Have I your consent to try it ? " 
 
 " What is it ?" asks Edwin trembling ; for this change 
 from the greatest happiness to the greatest sorrow of his 
 life, has for the moment shattered his nerves. 
 
 * Before you came, your wife was sane, though broken- 
 hearted ; she thought you had been murdered. Since 
 she has seen you, she thinks you are a spirit she says 
 yor body is behind those curtains. " 
 
 " \Vell ! " 
 
 " Well, show her the body that is behind those con 
 :ams! " 
 
 ' You believe there is a body behind them * r 
 
MB* BARNES OP NEW YORK 953 
 
 I hope there is ?" 
 
 M You hope there is ? " echoes Anstruther surprised and 
 horrified. 
 
 " Yes, for your wife's sanity and your happiness ! * 
 returns Barnes. " For if, when I open that drapery, there 
 is no corpse behind, Marina will be a mad woman. In 
 fact, is one now ; such an hallucination w ; *hout reason 
 Is mania. At present I believe she has s^ vivid an im- 
 pression that you are a dead man, that even your presence 
 has not as yet overcome it. Pray God there is a body, 
 that she may see it is not yours." 
 
 " Then you think there is some one killed there I ' says 
 Edwin, looking at the dark draperies. 
 
 " I do ! " is Barnes* confident reply, 
 
 "Who?" 
 
 " That I don't know, but I've an idea that Providence 
 has worked out things about right this time ! " answers 
 the American. 
 
 " Have I your consent ? Mind, the chance is des- 
 perate ! H 
 
 " Yes ! " says Anstruther firmly. a For God's sake and 
 in God's name, go on ! M 
 
 " Then be ready ; when I tell you, do you draw these 
 curtains ; " and with these words to Edwin, Mr. Barnes 
 turns to Marina, who is standing with Enid's arms about 
 her, gazing at her husband in a dazed way. 
 
 The two girls are near the center of the room, the men 
 between them and the draped door. Anstruther ap- 
 proaches this slowly, while Mr. Barnes, considering his 
 words carefully, says to the bride, "Mrs. Anstruther, 
 you think your husband's body is behind those curtains?" 
 
 " I know it ! " she cries; " I heard his coming footsteps 
 I saw twice through that canopy the knife strike deep 
 into the heart I love. I heard his awful groans. I saw 
 the draperies twist about his falling form. Would I not 
 think that was my husband if I did not know he was 
 dead ! " With this she points to Edwin, who is ap- 
 proaching the curtains, and whispers to him, w You are 
 treading in your own blood now." 
 
 Barnes looks, sees there is a red pool round the young 
 Englishman's feet, and being pretty certain of his pomt> 
 says quickly, " So far you are right you heard a step, 
 but it was not your husband's. You saw a fora) behind 
 
MR BARNES Of NEW YOR* 
 
 those curtains, but it was not the man you loved ; the 
 groans that came to you were not Edwin's the body 
 lying there is not Gerard Anstruther's, but f " 
 
 He gives the signal, and Kdwin drawing the curtains 
 open, Marina, who even while he speaks has been gasp- 
 ing and panting, " Can it be ? Is this so ? " springs 
 forward and screams with joy, "My husband is alive! 
 Thank Heaven ! That is the body of the man who cam? 
 to see me kill him ! " 
 
 For there behind the curtains, glaring at them with 
 face half grin and half agony and two great wounds in his 
 heart, lies Count Musso Danella. 
 
 " Danella ! " gasps Enid, sick with horror. 
 
 " My friend f" mutters Edwin sadly, and stoops to lift 
 up his Dody. 
 
 Put Barnes, closing the curtains and shutting out a 
 sight that makes them shudder, stops him, remarking, 
 <% No use, the scoundrel's been dead ten minutes. What 
 I gueesed: Providence was about right. Your enemy got 
 what he intended for \ 
 
 " My enemy f Impossible ! Don't def ic his memory 
 He gave Marina to me ! " 
 
 "Ask her, and see how nr*ch you have to thank him 
 for ys Barnes drily. 
 
 But Edwin going to Marina to take her in his arms, 
 exclaims, " See, she is weeping for him now." 
 
 " For him ? For that villain ? No ! " cries the girl, 
 who now having regained her senses, remembers the aw- 
 ful gulf that stands between her and the man she loves ; 
 and in whose face supernatural terror is replaced by 
 despairing sadness, " It is because I have lost you, my 
 husband, on this my bridal night. Oh ! dear friend " 
 she gives Barnes a heart-breaking glance "you had 
 better have left me as I was. I should have been happier 
 insane ! " 
 
 " My darling, this is as great a madness as the othei," 
 says Edwin, trying to get her in his arms, for Marina 
 now appears quite faint " Lost me ? You have gained 
 me forever. You are my wife my loved wife ! " 
 
 But she fights him off with unnatural strength, and 
 cries in a voice that horrifies them all, " I am your wife, 
 but you are the murderer of my brother ! Our lips never 
 meet again ! " 
 
MR. BARNES OF NEW YORK. 235 
 
 CHAPTER XXV. 
 
 DOCTOR BARNES. 
 
 THIS speech astonishes and dismays Edwin more than 
 either Barnes or Enid; they have, in a measure, expected 
 it; to him it is lightning in a clear sky. 
 
 For a moment it staggers and unmans him. He turns 
 to the American and mutters in a broken voice, " You 
 cured my darling of one delusion: cure her of this more 
 cruel madness and save me from despair." 
 
 " I killed an insane hallucination by a shock/' replies 
 Barnes. " You go to her and kill a sane one by reason ! " 
 
 " Sane ? To think me the murderer of her brother ? " 
 
 " Yes, with the proofs I imagine Danella has given her, 
 perfectly sane." 
 
 "Proofs? Absurd!" 
 
 " Question her and see. But as you love her, remem- 
 ber how she has suffered to-night, thinking she saw you 
 murdered before her eyes. See, how weak she is ! " 
 Barnes points to Marina, who partly supported by Enid's 
 arms, stands clutching a chair to keep upon her feet, as 
 she devours Edwin with eyes full of love and hopeless- 
 ness, and concludes, " Whatever she says or does to you, 
 be gentle with her and never doubt that she loves you." 
 
 Thus admonished Anstruther comes towards his bride; 
 but when within a few feet of her she puts out an arm to 
 stop him and says command ingly, " No nearer ! You 
 can talk to me from there ! " then implores in a wild, 
 pathetic way, " For Heaven's sake, don't tempt me again. 
 Your kisses would drive me mad with shame; in them I 
 would forget you were the assassin of Antonio ! " 
 
 " You say I murdered your brother," answers Edwin, 
 forcing himself to be calm. " May I ask how I killed 
 him?" 
 
 " In a duel ! You did not know that he would die. 
 You thought he was only wounded. You hurried away 
 to catch the Vulture, leaving for Egypt." 
 
 " Ah ! that duel at Ajaccio ! " cries Edwin, a curious 
 light coming into his eyes. 
 
 " My Heaven ! You remember ! You acknowledge \ 
 Now bid me farewell forever ! " Marina says this in a 
 
MR. BARNES OF NEW YORK. 
 
 voice of despair, and murmurs, " I love you better than 
 my soul ; but am as much your widow as if you were 
 dead like he who lies behind those curtains in mercy, 
 let me go from you ! " 
 
 For Edwin has got hold of her hand, crying, "You 
 bid me farewell no more. Thank Heaven, Fm not the 
 man ! " 
 
 " Not the man t " Marina cries back. " Not the man ? 
 God knows that villain gave me proofs enough for me to 
 take the knife in my hand to slay you ! " 
 
 "To kill me, your husband?" gasps Anstruther in a 
 tone of horror, releasing her. And from this time on 
 Mr. Barnes notices with dismay that he makes no further 
 efforts to approach his bride. 
 
 Unheeding Edwin's action, Marina ejaculates, " Look!" 
 and in an instant this creature who has been scarce able 
 to stand, flies like a meteor to the table and seizes the 
 things Danella has shown to her excitement for a few 
 brief moments giving her preternatural strength. She 
 darts with them to Edwin and utters hysterically, " My 
 brother's bullet flattened against the coin that saved your 
 life ! Your name upon the pistol that killed him. Deny 
 that! See, the description of the duel, given when 
 you feared you were about to die, to exonerate your 
 second, written in your handwriting. Why, it's certainty. 
 Tell the truth ! In mercy don't deceive me ! " 
 
 " Those pistols are mine," answers Anstruther 
 moodily, as if some other thought were dominating thia 
 matter of the duel in his mind. "They were taken from 
 my stateroom that morning at Ajaccio, by the officer who 
 killed your brother. This coin was his; this statement 
 made just previous to his death, in my hand, because he 
 was too weak to write himself, is that of George Fellows 
 Arthur, who was wounded on the Sealark when we bom- 
 barded Alexandria. He died in my arms a few hours 
 afterwards ; and these little things, the flattened bullet, 
 the silver crown, and all that is or was in that valise 
 there, which bears his initials ' G. A./ George Arthur, 
 were what he asked me, at the last, to deliver with his 
 dying words to his mother when I returned to England. 
 And on this evidence you believed ! " ^ 
 
 " Others believed also ! " screams Marina. " Don't re- 
 proach me * That man telegraphed to your sister to 
 
MR. BARNES OF NEW YORK. 237 
 
 stop our marriage. You who saw the duel, tell me it was 
 not my husband killed my brother ! " 
 
 She turns imploringly to Barnes, and he answers, 
 " Thank God, no ! I was in error also. Anstruther, I 
 thought as she did, and would have prevented your mar- 
 riage, but Danella intercepted my dispatch." 
 
 Marina, her face aglow with rapture, dashes to the 
 floor the evidences of this night's monstrous lie, and 
 cries, " With these he thought to make me kill you, 
 Edwin ! At last, again I'm happy ! " and is staggering 
 to her husband's arms, when he horrifies them all by 
 saying coldly, "A pity, Barnes, your dispatch came too 
 late ! " At these words his bride recoils, shudders, shrinks 
 away from him, and cries out hysterically, " Oh ! I knew 
 this would be the end. If he were guilty I could not be 
 his wife ! If he were innocent he would never forgive 
 me. He's going to break my heart! See, he looks like 
 he did when he comdemned the criminal in Egypt." 
 
 " Edwin, my brother ! Remember how you love 
 her ! " begs Enid. 
 
 " Anstruther ! " says Barnes sternly, coming to him 
 " Your wife can bear no more agony to-night." 
 
 " My wife, who on evidence such as this thought her 
 husband an assassin ! That's what you called me ! " an- 
 swers Edwin in a very stern tone, confronting Marina, 
 who looks at him with a pale, scared face, but does not 
 for the moment answer. 
 
 " Do you suppose I would have believed you a mur- 
 deress on the word of others ? But dare I doubt your 
 words to me that to-night you took a dagger in your hand 
 to kill me your husband hurrying to your arms, with all 
 the affection, love and trust man ever gave to woman ! 
 Tell me I didn't hear you ! Tell me you lied to me ! 
 Tell me you are delirious but don't in mercy to me let 
 me think that my bride would to-night have assassinated 
 me ! " Edwin begins with a reproach but ends with a 
 supplication. Getting no denial he turns gloomily away, 
 sinks into a chair, covers his face with his hands and 
 looks at her no more. 
 
 " I was crazy then as I will be soon again,*' gasps 
 Marina, giving him a yearning glance that would Sst 
 him if he saw it. 
 
 Guessing, h* dare not look at her for f?ar he will to* 
 
238 MR. BARNES OF NEW YORK 
 
 give ; the girl becomes braver, and, taking resolution to 
 fight for her happiness, walks up to him, a slight tremble 
 in her step, puts out a hand to lay it upon his arm, then 
 withdraws it, shuddering, lest he repulse her ; and says 
 in a voice unnaturally calm " Edwin, my husband, 
 you listened to the criminal in Egypt do the same to 
 your wife ! " 
 
 " So, you want justice ! " Anstruther says coldly, not 
 looking at her. 
 
 " Not justice, but, for God's sake, mercy ! " she 
 cries imploringly. 
 
 44 Go on," he says hoarsely. " Do you suppose I want 
 to break my heart also ? You know how I love you tell 
 me a! 
 
 All all now, Gerard ! It is my little chance of 
 keeping my husband's love. I had always intended to 
 confide it to you ; some day in the far happy future, that 
 may now never be mine, when years of fellowship and 
 walking hand in hand had made you know that your 
 wife had repented but now perhaps you'll not forgive. 
 You may think me unworthy to be your wife. O, 
 God turn your spirit to mercy ! Pity me, Gerard ; think 
 how I love you don't break my heart ! " and, as she 
 says this, the girl begins to falter and tremble and shud- 
 der in a paroxysm of despairing agony. 
 
 Enid coming to Barnes, whispers to him, " For 
 Heaven's sake stop this ; it is too cru< 
 
 "Not I ! " he returns grimly; ' it's their one chance of 
 happiness. If your brother does not forgive her to-night, 
 he never will." And then he says impressively to 
 Marina, "Tell your husband all." 
 
 "All ? about my vow ? and the hospital ?" she gasps. 
 44 That when he thought me an angel of mercy, I was an 
 angel of death ! " 
 
 " Angel of Death ? " cries Anstruther, with a tender 
 ring in his voice, 4t In the hospital ? No I No ! There 
 you were a saint on earth. Not from your own lips 
 would I believe that the dear one who nursed me so 
 mercifully, so divinely, with such infinite pity, and such 
 womanly devotion, could be aught but an angel of light. 
 In the hospital ! That was where I learnt to love you ! " 
 and he gives his bride a glance that tells her that eve* 
 now his heart is all hers. 
 
MR BARNES OF NEW YORK, 239 
 
 This look, instead of encouraging, frightens Marina, 
 for it shows lo her the greatness of the man's affection 
 that to-night's confession may lose her. She cries wildly, 
 44 You think me an angel. My Heaven ! when you know, 
 you'll think me a fiend ! I can't tell, I dare not tell all \ 
 Then you will never forgive ! " 
 
 " Is it so horrible as that ? " groans Edwin and Barnes 
 can see the strong man's fingers clench themselves in 
 agony. 
 
 " You'll think it so ! You are English ; I am a Corsi* 
 can I You've not grown up in a land where undying 
 vengeance is its noblest passion ; where the honored cus- 
 tom of the vendetta is in the air you breathe. Think of 
 that and pardon me ! I loved my brother, almost as I 
 love you. I thought the duel unfair Antonio murdered. 
 A true daughter of Corsica, over my brother's body, I 
 made the vow of the vendetta on his assassin ! That vow 
 took me to Egypt ! That vow took me into the hospital 
 where wounded English sailors lay, that in their delirium 
 I might discover my victim." 
 
 At this declaration Enid shrinks from her, and Anstru- 
 ther, who has gazed at her in amazed horror, breaks into 
 a ghastly laugh and cries, " This was the nun's vow of 
 charity for which I honored the girl I loved. Don't cast 
 infamy on the being I worshiped ! Don't tell me that 
 the woman I had taken to be the wife of my affection, 
 would have slain in cold blood a wounded man ! " He 
 seizes her, turns her beautiful face towards him, looks 
 wildly into her despairing eyes and then mutters, " By 
 all the saints ! I won't believe you, if you do ! " 
 
 '- No ! No ! I entered the hospital only to discover- 
 not to kill ; I couldn't have done that ! " screams Ma- 
 rina. " Ask the dying men whose last pangs I made easy ; 
 ask those I nursed to life and see if I was not better than 
 my vow ! I sought my enemy ; but I pitied, I tended, 
 I soothed the rest they loved me I Never did fevered 
 sufferer call for water and I came not ! Never did man 
 die of pestilence and I flee from him ! You were one of 
 them, my husband you know ! How say you, were the 
 hands that hovered over your couch in Egypt the hands 
 of hate or the hands of love ? " 
 
 " The hands of an angel ! All mercy, all charity^ ! * 
 answers Edwin, with tears in his eves and in his voice 
 
MIL BARNES JF NEW YORK. 
 
 a A* I hear you speak of deliberate murder I cry, am \ 
 mad, or are you ? " 
 
 " But I had repented of that ! For love of you I had 
 renounced my vow, until that devil," Marina bursts 
 forth, pointing to the curtains behind which is Danella's 
 body, " brought me here, back to the habits and tradi- 
 tions of my native land ; to be the jeer and scoff of my 
 neighbors because I forgave. To bow my head in shame 
 on this, my bridal day, at taunts from childhood's friends 
 because I did not slay. Then to-night, when associa- 
 tion had made me again a Corsican and a savage, Da* 
 nella and Tomasso proved to me that you, my husband, 
 had killed the brother that I loved. They forced a 
 dagger into ray hand, and for a few moments I was i 
 That's all ! Forgive me ! I was mad ! " 
 
 As Marina stops, panting with weakness and misery, 
 and gazing at them with eyes pleading for sympathy, the 
 other three look at each other, an awful thought in each 
 of their minds that none of their tongues dare utter. 
 
 Anstruther falters a moment ; then desperately strides 
 up to his bride in a frightened way, and, pointing to the 
 curtains that screen Oancllu's corpse, gasps with lips 
 that are pale and trembling, ' Who killed him ? " 
 
 As he asked this, Marina starts as if he had struck 
 her, and gasps in return, " Not 1 ! Before God, not I t 
 It was Tomasso ! " 
 
 But as her husband utters, u Thank Heaven ! " with a 
 great sigh of relief, she is before him, with eyes flashing 
 unutterable reproach, crying, " Look me in the face, if 
 you dare, after that question. I your wife your bride 
 you feared had waited in ambush to slay you, and had 
 mistaken Danella for you. That's what my husband 
 chinks of me ! When I heard the coming step I remem- 
 bered, not my vow of the vendetta, but my vow to be your 
 wife. The dagger, Tomasso had placed in my hands, I 
 turned against him. Behold ! the bruises of his clutch 
 upon my throat when I was fighting for your life! 
 Look on them ! They cry shame on you ! " As she says 
 ihis last, scorn mingles with the soft reproof "i her voice 
 
 The livid marks of Tomasso 's cruel hand smite Edwin 
 with remorse and make him very tender to this girl who 
 u her helplessness has fought for him He sobs forth 
 " For me For me I Forgiv? 
 
MR. BARNES OP NEW YORK. - 4t 
 
 But she heeds him not, going on wildly, " And you 
 thought I would have murdered you ? I plead no more f 
 I'm too weak to plead ! When you were feeble, I suc- 
 cored you ; when you were attacked, I defended you j 
 and now, in my extremity after the agony of this night 
 the heart that should beat against mine is turned from 
 me. My bridegroom has deserted me. I love you^ 
 Edwin! That's all cruel as you are, I love you !- 
 forgive you ! " 
 
 And beaming ineffable charity and divine tenderness 
 on this man who has made her suffer, Marina staggers 
 and would fall, but Anstruther's arms close round her. 
 Lying upon his heart she gives him one happy smile and 
 one little sigh, " My husband ! "and becomes unconscious 
 as death. 
 
 As for him, he is like a wild man, showering kisses 
 upon lips that do not return them, begging forgiveness 
 for his cruelty, and mumbling caresses into ears that do 
 not hear him. Seeing he cannot animate her, he calls to 
 Barnes, " Quick ! Tell me she's not dead ! Have A 
 broken the tenderest heart on earth ? " 
 
 Before the American can answer, Enid is by her 
 brother's side, and, woman like, gives him two awful 
 stabs ; for she says in a cutting voice, " That's right. 
 Cry shame on yourself after your cruelty has made your 
 bride faint That's the way men always do. Your 
 caresses would have done the woman who loves you 
 more good when she begged you for them. Let me 
 have the dear one in my arms, and see if my kindness 
 cannot undo my brother's severity." 
 
 But Edwin says grimly, " She stays here 5 M 
 
 And Barnes rejoins, " Which is exactly the place that 
 's best for her." 
 
 At this, Miss Anstruther turns her eyes upon him, and 
 giving him a little scornful laugh, cries, " You're a fine 
 doctor ! You let my brother torture your patient to 
 death!" 
 
 But Barnes, who has been bending over Marina, says 
 hopefully, " Pooh ! Happiness rarely kills. She felt your 
 arms, Edwin, about her before she fainted. Her last 
 sigh was one of contentment, not of despair. That's a 
 great point. Now, before your wife regains conscious- 
 ness, I hare a few words to say to you. I let this thing 
 
4* <* BARNES OF HEW YORK, 
 
 go on, because I knew that this explanation must coma 
 before either you or your bride could be happy. As 
 four physician, I should have stopped it at once ; as your 
 friend, I permitted it to continue This over, I m your 
 doctor again." 
 
 "Then, as my doctor, bring her to," whispers Edwin. 
 
 44 Not at present ! ** 
 
 "Not at present ?*' echoes Enid, surprised. 
 
 " That's what I said ! " returns Barnes. " When your 
 irife, Anstruther, opens her eyes, it must not be upon this 
 room nor in this house. She's endured more agony to* 
 night than most people suffer during life. She has youth, 
 health, strength, and I trust in you, that she'll have happi- 
 ness with which to fight her battle against any evil results 
 to her nervous system from the sliock : t has just re- 
 ceived.** 
 
 44 She'll have all the happiness my love and my tender- 
 ness can give her/* says Edwin. 
 
 "That'll be plenty !" continues Barnes gravely. "But 
 mark me,** here his voice takes a tone of command, 
 14 don't you on any consideration leave your wife's side 
 until you have my permission. Not seeing you, the 
 memory of this will come back to her ; she 11 grow 
 anxious at your absence and perhaps hear those coming 
 footsteps again your continual presence must keep her 
 from that. Take her to Enid's room! When your 
 bride awakes, your arms are what she must feel, and 
 your face is what she must see ; and be ready in fifteen 
 minutes to leave this house.** 
 
 At this, Edwin, who is in the act of carrying Marina 
 from the room, pauses and says, " Leave this house 
 *here shall we go to ? M 
 
 44 To A jaccio en route for England * % 
 
 * Marina is too weak to travel" 
 
 "She must travel' I must have your wife out of 
 Corsica to-morrow morning; away from all that will 
 remind her of the vendetta. Any excitement is better 
 for her than remembrance Leave everything to me. 
 If I'm your doctor, obey me I" and Barnes comes to 
 Marina and looks at her with a grave face. 
 % *" Do what you like ; only save her for me I That's all . 
 Save her for me ! *' gasps Anstruther, gazing at the beauti- 
 ful creature lying in his arms. 
 
MR. BARNES OF NEW YORK. 243 
 
 "All right Fll make every arrangement. There'll be 
 ft carriage for you shortly at the door. You think of 
 nothing but making your wife know that you're alive and 
 love her 2nid and I will do the rest, won't we little 
 girl ?" says Barnes very tenderly to his sweetheart, as he 
 looks at Edwin bearing his bride out of the apartment, 
 and thinks, " What would be my despair if my love was 
 in such strait as his." 
 
 Something in his face alarms Enid ; she comes to hin^ 
 places her hand upon his arm and whispers, " You fear ? ** 
 
 " No," he replies, consideringly. " I have great hopes 
 she'll be able to dodge the brain fever. But not a word 
 of that to your brother." 
 
 Here his sweetheart astonishes him by giving him a 
 look of admiration and remarking, " What a doctor you 
 are ! What an officer you would make ! You give your 
 commands as if you were in action ! " 
 
 " Yes a sick-room is the doctor's quarter-deck ! " 
 says Barnes. " But to business ! " and he gives Enid 
 some hasty directions about the articles she had best 
 take with her for Marina's use and hers. As for their 
 baggage it can follow after, he'll send his servant for it. 
 The great thing is to get his patient out of Corsica and 
 away from the associations and recollections of this 
 night. " If I could but keep Marina asleep until then, 
 it would be a great thing for her. What would I not 
 give for a narcotic ! " As he says this, the sound of 
 horse's hoofs upon the avenue in front of the house comes 
 to him, and he hears the clanking of a sabre and a mar- 
 tial tread upon the portico. " De Belloc ! " he cries. 
 " I'll see what he can do for me," and steps out to meet 
 that officer. 
 
 As Miss Anstruther goes off to do the c emission he 
 has charged her with, she sees the American in eager 
 conversation with a military figur , on the balcony. 
 
 Mr. Barnes hastily explains the situation to de Belloc, 
 and that officer who is promptness itself in all matters of 
 duty, issues orders to a few of his men to follow up and 
 arrest Tomasso. " After committing an assassination, a 
 Corsican generally flies to the mountains and becomes a 
 bandit," he remarks grimly. " We'll capture this gen 
 tleman before he develops into a full-fledged Fra 
 
944 M1L BARNES OP NEW YORK. 
 
 By this time the members of the count's household 
 are aroused. They hear of their master's fate with 
 horror mingled with rage ; and, were it not for de 
 Belloc's troopers, there might be another tragedy that 
 night ; for Danella had been a kind master to his 
 servants, who mutter some very ugly threats against 
 these foreigners as they look upon the dead body of 
 their lord. 
 
 But Barnes does not give them much time to think or 
 plot; some he sets to work carrying out the luggage that 
 must go with them; the rest he drives off to the stables 
 to put horses to a carriage which, assisted by a couple of 
 cavalry men handy with strap and buckle, they soon 
 make ready for the party. 
 
 Meantime, learning from a servant that the priest in 
 the village acts as a general practitioner for the peasants 
 about, and has a simple stock of medicines, the Ameri- 
 can rides off on one of de Belloc's horses, and waking 
 the good old man from his slumbers, tells him what has 
 befallen the bride he blessed in his little chapel that day, 
 and obtains from him the narcotic he desires. Return* 
 ing, he places this in Enid's hands with these words : 
 " When Marina comes to her senses, if she seems happy 
 and confident that her husband is with her and alive, 
 give her this, in one dose; if not, stop the carnage till I 
 overtake you.** 
 
 44 But you come with us ?** says Enid. 
 Ves, just behind you on horseback with de Belloc." 
 
 "You've had no rest for days; you'll kill yourself. 
 For my sake take a seat in our carriage," entreats his 
 sweetheart 
 
 44 There's no room. Your brother and his wife, you 
 and your maid will fill it." 
 
 " Leave Tompson behind. Do you suppose I am help- 
 less without her ? " 
 
 44 Not at all ; but alone with these Corsicans after 
 what has happened, your maid, who is a green English 
 girl, would die of fright/' returns Barnes. 
 
 44 Burton ! you think of everybody except yourself! " 
 ones Enid, and gives him a look that makes him very 
 happy. 
 
 A minute or two afterwards, Anstruther carries his 
 bride, still insensible, to the carriage. After seeing tif 
 
MIC BARNES OF NEW YORK. *4 
 
 patient is as comfortable as possible for the journey, and 
 tucking an extra rug about his sweetheart, Barnes gives 
 the signal to the driver, and away they go ; Edwin, with 
 Marina in his arms, on the back seat, and Enid and hei 
 maid sitting opposite to them. 
 
 De Belloc and those of his troopers who are not sr 
 pursuit of Tomasso, follow after ; and the whole party 
 travel down the valley of the Gravona, whose white tor 
 rent, weirdly beautiful in the moonlight, foams beside 
 their path, racing with them to the sea. 
 
 The French officer glances sharply once or twice at the 
 American who rides by his side, and then says, " How 
 long : sit since you slept? " 
 
 "About forty-eight hours!*' replies Barnes. " Give 
 me a weed, if you have any with you, de Belloc ; I've 
 smoked my last, and I think one will help keep me in 
 the saddle." 
 
 "Diablc! you do a great deal for a friend," returns 
 the Frenchman, producing his cigar-case ; u but you are 
 in love, I presume, with that beautiful English girl. May 
 I congratulate you ?" 
 
 " You can ! " says Barnes, helping himself to an 
 Habana ; " married in a month ! " 
 
 " Ah ! " mutters the veteran, a little sadly, a I loved 
 once," and his grizzled mustache twitches nervously for 
 a moment They smoke in silence till suddenly de Bel- 
 loc reins in his horse and says, " Hush f " 
 
 The two pause, listen, and hear a few scattered shots 
 ring out far up the mountain-side. 
 
 Half an hour afterward, the detachment sent in pur- 
 suit of Tomasso overtake them at a gallop. 
 
 De Belloc says sharply to the sergeant in command of 
 the party, " Where is your prisoner ? " 
 
 " We left him behind us I " replies the man, saluting. 
 
 "Dead?" 
 
 " Yes, sir! - 
 
 " My orders were to capture him alive, if possible f * 
 returns his officer, sternly. 
 
 "He would not surrender. He fired on us and 
 wounded one of the men." 
 
 "Then it could not be avoided. You can fall in ser 
 geant," and, turning to Barnes, de Belloc continues, 
 u This will make it easy Cor your party to leave Corsica 
 
246 MR. BARNES OP NEW YORK 
 
 There will be no trial, and do you contrive to get out of 
 :he island before I make my report to the civil authori- 
 ties. Then all will be well." 
 
 " Providence permitting, we are out of Ajaccio this 
 norning," replies Barnes, for it is now after mid 
 night. A moment later he says to his friend, " Please 
 direct your men not to talk of Tomasso's death in hear- 
 ing of my party. They've sjiad shocks enough for one 
 episode." 
 
 44 Certainly ! ** Is the reply ; and the necessary orders 
 are given. 
 
 Just about this time, Edwin, holding Marina in his 
 arms, in the carriage, leans over to his sister and whis- 
 pers, " She is conscious." 
 
 And as he says this, his bride murmurs, * 4 My hus- 
 band's voice f you are alive my dream is true ! " A 
 moment after she looks round and asks faintly, "Where 
 are we ? Where do we go ?" 
 
 Anstruther, who has been silently fondling her, an- 
 swers, " With me, dear one, to England." 
 
 "Away from here i; hand's arms I'm happy!" 
 
 she returns, and after a little goes to sleep, for Enid hat 
 obeyed Barnes* instructions and has given her the 
 cotic 
 
 But, before this brings her rest, Edwin sheds another 
 over his beloved one ; for he feels her hand go to 
 .eart, and he hears her murmur, " It beats ; ray hus- 
 band lives ! " 
 
 She is sleeping peacefully as a child, upon his breast, 
 as in the morning sunlight they drive up the quiet main 
 treet of Ajaccio. 
 
 It is a bright, beautiful cloudless Mediterranean day. 
 Barnes riding behind the carriage gazes in a sleepy way 
 down the gulf and sees the steamer from Marseilles just 
 entering the harbor. In a moment he is thoroughly 
 awake, and a few minutes after is at the office of the 
 steamship company, and in direct telegraphic communi- 
 cation over the Toulon cable with their main house in 
 Marseilles 
 
 So it comes to pass, that the boat has hardly arrived 
 when the American goes on board and astonishes hei 
 :aptain by showing nim a dispatch from the head of 
 company directing him to discharge his freight and pas- 
 
MR. 3ARNES OF NEW YORK. 247 
 
 sengers at once, and return immediately to Marseilles 
 with Mr. Barnes and party. 
 
 " The manager is mad ! " cries the skipper. " I have 
 other ports to go to ! " 
 
 " Not this trip ! " is the confident rejoinder. " The 
 lady with us is too sick to wait." 
 
 " Why, it can't be philanthropy has caused this crazy 
 order," says the captain, rubbing his hands in a dazec 
 way. " What can have made them do it ? " 
 
 " The power of American gold ! " laughs Mr. Barnes ; 
 for his patient is doing well, and though very tired, he is 
 very happy. 
 
 The commander of the steamship goes up to the office, 
 verifies his dispatch, and two hours afterwards his vessel 
 steams out of Ajaccio with Marina, Edwin, Enid and Mr, 
 Barnes on board. 
 
 Anstruther has carried his wife, still sleeping, to a state- 
 room. The American is looking over the taffrail at the 
 inn of // Pescatori, which is now growing indistinct in 
 the distance, and thinking of all the misery and trouble 
 the duel fought upon the beach there has produced, 
 when Enid comes to his side and he says to her, " Now 
 that Corsica is behind us, the sooner Mrs. Anstruther 
 awakes and pulls herself together the better ! " 
 
 " I came to tell you that Marina has opened her eyes 
 and is now talking to her husband," answers Enid. 
 
 " Got any delusions ? Does she say anything about 
 coming footsteps?" asks Barnes anxiously, tossing away 
 a cigarette he is about placing in his mouth. 
 
 " No." 
 
 " Thank Heaven ! " 
 
 " Only her eyes never leave Edwin. The way they 
 follow him about is pathetic it made me cry. "Just as I 
 left, she said to me, * Think if I had lost him, my inno 
 cent one they tried to make me murder.' " 
 
 " All right," cries Barnes ; " that's sanity. I'm going 
 to bed." 
 
 " I thought you would wish to see your patient," says 
 Enid, slightly astonished at his off-hand manner. 
 
 " No, the sight of me at present would set her memory 
 going, and just now I want her to forget. She'll be well 
 in a few days. Oh, Laws ! how sleepy I am/' replies 
 Barnes, stiffling an erormous yawn. 
 
*4 8 MR. BARNES OF NEW YORK. 
 
 "Then you're not going to prescribe anything for 
 Marina?" 
 
 "Oh, of course ! I wouldn't be much of a doctor if 1 
 didn't send her a prescription," replies the gentleman. 
 With these words he goes off quickly and a few moments 
 after, returning, says, "If I'm the physician you must 
 be the nurse ; go down and see that the patient takes the 
 medicine I've ordered for her." 
 A hat's that?" 
 
 " A good big breakfast ! " rejoins Barnes. " Come and 
 report to me if she eats it." 
 
 Half an hour after Miss Anstruther returns to him 
 once more, gives a little laugh and says, ** Doctor, your 
 invalid was wonderfully hungry. Your diagnosis was 
 that of a gen! 
 
 The only answer she gets to this, is a resounding 
 snore ; and looking down, she discovers that Barnes, who 
 is lying upon a bench, is fast asleep. 
 
 The girl gazes at him, smiles and mutters, " What a 
 darling scarecrow ! " For not having changed his clothes 
 since he left Nice, with face unshorn, matted hair and 
 mouth wide open, in this sleep of utter exhaustion, he 
 makes a frightful picture. But as she looks upon and 
 sees the deep lines of care, the wrinkles and haggard 
 expression that these last three days have brought to the 
 face she loves, Enid murmurs, a His fatigue, his care, 
 his anxiety, all for me P 
 
 And though last night's travel has wearied her, she 
 down by him, and making a soft pillow of her lap for his 
 head, silently watches his slumbers. 
 
 After a time his sleep becomes restless and troubled, 
 be struggles, his lips move, she can hear him calling to 
 the sailors on board the felucca, and knows he dreams 
 he's fighting his way to her side, and she grows very ten* 
 der towards him. At last he cries, in a groan of despair, 
 " Oh ! God ! for a little breeze to carry me to Corsica in 
 time to save my love ! " As he does this the tears in the 
 girl's eyes overflow and run down her fair cheeks. She 
 bows her head over him and whispers sweet words in his 
 ear; and then, as he keeps on his groaning and mum 
 bling, she begins to shudder with terror ; her face be 
 comes white. With a throb of fear she pounces upoc 
 Mr. Barnes and wakes him up. 
 
MR. BARNES OF NEW YORK 249 
 
 That gentleman comes to his senses, looks round and 
 gays very gravely, " Enid, what are you crying for ? Any- 
 thing wrong below ? " 
 
 " No ! " replies his sweetheart with a sigh of relief 
 " I ! I ! oh ! Burton, you were making such a noise in 
 your sleep that I thought that the brain fever you appre- 
 hended for Marina had come to you ; and so I woke you 
 up and robbed you of your, rest." 
 
 " I've had plenty for the present I must have slept 
 six hours ; it's nearly dark now," says the gentleman, 
 looking about. And then getting Enid's hand, remarks, 
 " So you were frightened for me ?" 
 
 " Frightened ? As if I could bear to have anything 
 haopen to you now ! " 
 
 " Have I grown in value ? " 
 
 "Enormously. What would have become of us all 
 without you last night? A doctor that has common 
 sense 1" 
 
 " A doctor without diploma or practice." 
 
 " Oh ! you've got one patient now. Edwin said this 
 morning that he would hand me over to you as his fee 
 for your medical services." 
 
 " Indeed ! " cries Barnes ; " I wonder if he would pay 
 me my fee, down ! " 
 
 " Down ? What do you m*an ? " 
 
 " I mean," replies the gentleman slowly, " that a 
 month is a very long time." 
 
 " Oh ! if that's what you're insinuating, and you dare, 
 1*11 I'll marry you as soon as we arrive in England," 
 says Enid, blushing a little. 
 
 " Done ! " cries Barnes, " May Heaven punish me if I 
 ever make you repent it ! " 
 
 As they sit together hand in hand, looking at the blue 
 cloud that in the dusk is all that is now left to them of 
 Corsica, Edwin brings Marina on deck. She is very pale, 
 but beautiful as ever ; and, though her great eyes follow 
 her husband every time he moves, there is naught but 
 happiness and contentment in them. Anstruther strides 
 up to Barnes and seizing his hand gives it a mighty shake, 
 and, looking at his wife, says huskily, " God bless you - 
 I believe, but for you, my bride would have lost her 
 senses last night." 
 
 " Don't mention it," returns Barnes ; " I shall re- 
 
150 MR BARNES OF NEW YORX. 
 
 ceive the biggest fee that ever doctor got ; and am < 
 tent." 
 
 Edwin looks at him in astonishment until Enid says, 
 14 My brother, in three days I am to be the happiest girl 
 r n the world ! " 
 
 * What a curious synonym for Mrs, Barnes of 
 crk I " laughs the American 
 
UNIVERSITY OF CALIFORNIA LIBRARY 
 BERKELE1 
 
 Return to desk from which borrowed. 
 This book is DUE on the last date stamped below. 
 
 6Sep'49HJ 
 
 
 
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THE UNIVERSITY OF CALIFORNIA LIBRARY