^ B E 8 K E L E Y^ LIBRARY UNIVERSITY OF CALIFORNIA WILKIE COLLINS'S NOVELS. Crown 8vo. cloth extra, 3s. 6J. each : post Svo. boards, 2s. each ; cloth limp, 2,y. 6erty, \n lands and in money, absolutely to his widow. In the fifth ilauso he added a new proof of his implicit confidence in iier — he appointed her sole executrix of his will. The sixth and last clause began in these words : — ■ " During my long illness, my dear wife has acted as my secretary and representative. She has made herself so thoroughly well acquainted with the system on which I have conducted my business, that she is the fittest person to succeed me. I not only prove the fulness of my trust in her and the sincerity of my gratitude towards her, but I really act in the best interests of the firm of which I am the head, when I hereby appoint my widow as my sole successor in the business, with all the povrers and privileges appertain- ing thereto." The lawyer and I both looked at my aunt. She had sunk back in her chair ; her face was hidden in her handkerchief. We waited resjDectfully until she might be sufficiently re- covered to communicate her wishes to us. The expression of JEZEBEUS DAUG TITER. % her husband's love and respect, contained in the last wor-ds of the will, had completely overwhelmed her. It was only after she had been relieved by a burst of tears that she was conscious of our presence, and was composed enough to Bpeah to us. " I shall be calmer in a few days' time," she said. " Come to me at the end of the week. I have something important to say to both of you." The lawyer ventured on putting a question. " Does it relate in any way to the will ?" he inquired. She shook her head. " It relates," she ansv/ered, " to my husband's last wishes." She bowed to us, and went away to her ovrn room. The lawyer looked after her gravely and doubtfully as sho disappeared. " My long experience in my profession," he said, turning to me, " has taught me many useful lessons. Your aunt has just called one of those lessons to my mind." " May I ask what it is, sir ?" " Certainly." He took my arm and waited to repeat the lesson until we had left the house ; "Always distrust a man's last wishes on his death-bed — unless they are communicated to his lawyer, and expressed in his will." At the time, I thought this rather a narrow view to take. How could I foresee that coming events in the future life of my aunt would prove the lawyer to be right ? If she had only been content to leave her husband's plans and projects where he had left them at his death, and if she had never taken that rash journey to our branch ofnce at Frankfort but what is the use of speculating on what might or might not have happened ? My business in these pages i§ to describe what did happen. Let me return to my business JEZEBEL'S DAVGHTER. CHAPTEE 11. At the end of the week we found the widow waiting to receive us. To describe her personally, she was a little lady, with a remarkably prctfy figure, a clear pale complexion, a broad low forehead, and large, steady, brightly-intelligent grey eyes. Having married a man very much older than herself, she was still (after many years of wedded life) a notably attractive woman. But she never seemed to be conscious of her personal advantages, or vain of the very remarkable abilities which she did unquestionably possess. Under ordi- nary circumstances, she was a singularly gentle, unobtrusive creature. But let the occasion call for it, and the reserves of resolution in her showed themselves instantly. In all my experience I have never met with such a firm woman, when she was once roused. She entered on her business with us, wasting no time m preliminary words. Her face showed plain signs, poor soul, of a wakeful and tearful night. But she claimed no indul- gence on that account. When she spoke of her dead husband — excepting a slight unsteadiness in her voice — she controlled herself with a courage which was at once pitiable and admirable to see. " You both know," she began, " that Mr. Wagner was a man who thought for himself. He had ideas of his duty to his poor and afflicted fellow-creatures which are in advance s>i received opinions in the world about us. I love and revere his memory — and (please Grod) I mean to carry out his ideas." The lawyer began to look uneasy. " Do you refer, madum, to Mr. Wagner's political opinions ?" he inquired. Fifty years ago, my old master's political opiniona were JEZEBEL* S DAUGHTER. 5 considered to be nothing less than revolutionary. In tliese days — when his opinions have been sanctioned by Acts of Parliament, with the general approval of the nation — people would have called him a "Moderate Liberal," and would have set him down as a discreetly deliberate man in the march of modern progress. " I have nothing to say about politics," my aunt answered. " I wish to speak to you, in the first place, of my husband's opinions on the emj^loyment of women." Here, again, after a lapse of half a century, my master's heresies of the year 1828 have become the orthodox i^rin- ciples of the year 1878. Thinking the subject over in his own independent way, he had arrived at the conclusion that there were many employments reserved exclusively for men, which might with perfect propriety be also thrown open to capable and deserving women. To recognise the claims of justice was, with a man of Mr. Wagner's character, to act on his convictions without a moment's needless delay. En- larging his London business at the time, he divided the new employments at his disposal impartially between men and women alike. The scandal produced in the city by this daring innovation is remembered to the present day by old men like me. My master's audacious experiment prospered nevertheless, in spite of scandal. "If my husband had lived," my aunt continued, " it was his intention to follow the example, which he has already set in London, in our house at Frankfort. There also our busi- ness is increasing, and we mean to add to the number of our clerks. As soon as I am able to exert myself, I shall go to Frankfort, and give German women the same opportunities wiiicli my husband has already given to English women in London. I have his notes on the best manner of carrying out this reform to guide me. And I think of sending you, David," she added, turning to me, " to our partners iu 6 JEZEBEL'S DAVGHTER. Frankfort, Mr. Keller and Mr. Engelman, witli instructions wliicli will keep some of the vacant situations in tlie office open, until I can follow you." Slie paused, and looked at the lawyer. " Do you see any objection to wliat I propose ?" slie said. " I see some risks," lie answered, cautiously. " Wliat risks ?" '' In London, madam, tlie late Mr. Wagner had special means of investigating the characters of the women whom he took into his office. It may not be so easy for you, in a strange place like Frankfort, to guard against the danger *' lie hesitated, at a loss for the moment to express himself vvith sufficient plainness and sufficient delicacy. My aunt made no allowances for his embarrassment. " Don't be afraid to speak out, sir," she said, a little coldly. " What danger are you afraid of ?" " Yours is a generous nature, madam : and generous natures are easily imposed upon. I am afraid of women with bad characters, or, worse still, of other women " He stopped again. This time there was a positive inter- ruption. We heard a knock at the door. Our head-clerk was the person who presented himself at ViiG summons to come in. My aunt held up her hand. *' Excuse me, Mr. Hartrey — I will attend to you in one moment." She turned to the lawyer. " What other women are likely to impose on me ?" she asked. " Women, otherwise worthy of your kindness, who mn.y be associated with disreputable connections," the lawyer replied. " The very women, if I know anything of your quick sym- pathies, whom you would be most anxious to help, and who might nevertheless be a source of constant trouble and anxiety, under pernicious influences at home." My aunt made no answer. For the moment, the lawyer's objections seemed to annoy her. She addressed herself to JEZEBEL'S DAUGHTER, »J Mr. Hartrej j asking rather abruptly what he had to say to her. Our head-clerk was a methodical gentleman of the old schooL rio began by confusedly apologising for his intru- sion ; and ended by producing a letter. " When you are a.ble to attend to business, madam, honour me by reading this letter. And, in the meantime, will you forgive me for taking a liberty in the office, rather than intrude on your grief so soon after the death of my dear and honoured master ?" The phrases were formal enough ; but there was true feeling in the man's voice as he spoke. My aunt gave him her hand. He kissed it, with the tears in his eyes. *' Whatever you have done has been well done, I am sure," she said kindly. " Who is the letter from ?" " From Mr. Keller, of Frankfort, madam.** My aunt instantly took the letter fi'om him, and read it attentively. It has a very serious bearing on passages in the present narrative which are yet to come. I accordingly present a copy of it in this place : " Private and confidential. " Dear Mr. Hartrey, — It is impossible for me to address myself to Mrs. Wagner, in the first days of the affliction that has fallen on her. I am troubled by a pressing anxiety; and I venture to write to you, as the person now in charge at our London office. *' My only son Fritz is finishing his education at the uni- versity of Wiirzburg. He has, I regret to say, formed an attachment to a young woman, the daughter of a doctor at Wiirzburg, wlio has recently died. I believe lliG girl to be a perfectly reputable and virtuous young person. But her father has not only left her in poverty, he has done worse — he has died in debt. Besides this, her mother's character does not stand hi<^h in tho town. It in 8 JEZEBEL'S DAUGHTER. said, among other things, that her extravagance is mainly answerable for her late husband's debts. Under these cir cumstances, I wish to break off the connection while the two young people are separated for the time by the event of the doctor's recent death. Fritz has given up the idea of enter- ing the medical profession, and has accepted my proposal that he shall succeed me in our business. I have decided on sending him to London, to learn something of commercial affairs, at head-quarters, in your office. "My son obeys me reluctantly; but he is a good and dutiful lad — and he yields to his father's wishes. You may expect him in a day or two after receipt of these lines. Oblige me by making a little opening for him in one of your official departments, and by keeping him as much as possible under your own eye, until I can venture on communicating directly with Mrs. Wagner — to whom pray convey the ex- pression of my most sincere and respectful sympathy." My aunt handed back the letter. " Has the young man arrived yet ?" she asked. " He arrived yesterday, madam." ** And have you found some employment for him ?" " I have ventured to place him in our corresponding de- partment," the head-clerk answered. " For the present he will assist in copying letters ; and, after business-hours, ho will have a room (until further orders) in my house. I hope you think T have done right, madam ?" " You have done admirably, Mr. Hartrey. At the same time, I will relieve you of some of the responsibility. No grief of mine shall interfere with my duty to my husband's partner. I will speak to the young man myself. Bring him here this evening, after business-hours. And don't leave ua just yet ; £ want to put a question to you relating to my busband^s affairs, in which I am deeply interested." Mr. JEZEBEUS DAUGHTER. 9 Hartrey returned to Lis chair. After a momentary hesita- tion, my aunt put lior question in terms wliich took us aU three by surprise. CHAPTER III. " My liusband was connected with many charitable institu- tions," the widow began. " Am I right in believing that he was one of the governors of Bethlehem Hospital ?" At this reference to the famous asylum for insane persons, popularly known among the inhabitants of London as " Bedlam," I saw the lawyer start, and exchange a look with the head-clerk. Mr. Hartrey answered with evident reluc- tance ; he said, " Quite right, madam" — and said no more. The lawyer, being the bolder man of the two, added a word of warning, addressed directly to my aunt. " I venture to suggest," he said, " that there are circum- stances connected with the late Mr. Wagner's position at the Hospital, which make it desirable not to pursue the subject any farther. ^Ir. Hartrey will confirm what I say, when I tell you that Mr. Wagner's proposals for a reformation in the treatment of the patients " " Were the proposals of a merciful man," my aunt inter- posed, " who abhorred cruelty in all its forms, and who held the torturing of the poor mad patients by whips and chains to be an outrage on humanity. I entirely agree with him. Though I am only a woman, I will not let the matter drop. I shall go to the Hospital on Monday morning next — and luy business with you to-day is to request that you will accompany me." " In what capacity am I to have the honour of accom- panying you?" the lawyer asked, in his coldest manner. " In your professional capacity," my aunt replied. " I may have a proposal to address to the governors ; and I 10 JEZEBEUS DAUGHTER. sLall loot to your experience to express it in tlie proper form." The lawyer was not satisfied yet. " Excuse me if I venture on making another inquiry," lie persisted. " Do you propose to visit the madhouse in consequence of any wish expressed by the late Mr. Wagner ?" " Certainly not ! My husband always avoided speaking to me on that melancholy subject. As you have heard, he even left me in doubt whether he was one of the governing body at the asylum. No reference to any circumstance in his life which might alarm or distress me ever passed his lips." Her voice failed her as she paid that tribute to her husband's memory. She waited to recover herself. " But, on the night before his death," she resumed, " when he was half waking, half dreaming, I heard him talking to himself of something that he was anxious to do, if the chance of re- covery had been still left to him. Since that time I have looked at his private diary ; and I have found entries in it which explain to me what I failed to understand clearly at his bedside. I know for certain that the obstinate hostility of his colleagues had determined him on trying the effect of patience and kindness in the treatment of mad people, at his sole risk and expense. There is now m Bethlehem Ilospita a wretched man — a friendless outcast, found in the streets— whom my noble husband had chosen as the first subject of his humane experiment, and whose release from a life of torment he had the hope of efTecting through the influence of a person in authority in the Royal Household. You know already that the memory of my husband's plans and wishes is a sacred memory to me. I am resolved to see that poor cliained creature whom he would have rescued if ho had lived ; and I will certainly complete his work of mercy, if my conscience tells me that a woman should do it." Hearing this bold announcement — I am almost ashamed JEZEBEVS DAUailTER. H to confess it, in tlu p.o enliglitencd cl^iys — wo all three pro- tested. Modest Mr. Hartrey was almost as loud and as eloquent as the lawyer, and I was not far behind Mr. Hartrey It is perhaps to be pleaded as an excuse for us that some of l,he highest authorities, in the early part of the present century, would have been just as prejudiced and just as ignorant as we were. Say what wo might, however, our remonstrances produced no effect on my aunt. We merely roused the resolute side of her character to assert itself. " I won't detain you any longer," she said to the lawyer. " Tahe the rest of the day to decide what you v/ill do. If you decline to accompany me, I shall go by myself. If you accept my proposal, send me a lino this evening to say so." In that way the conference came to an end. Early in the evening young I\Ir. ICeller made his appear- ance, and was introduced to my aunt and to me. We both took a liking to him from the first. He was a handsome young man, with light hair and florid complexion, and v/ith a frank ingratiating manner — a little sad and subdued, in consequence, no doubt, of his enforced separation from his beloved young lady at Wiirzburg. My aunt, with her customary kindness and consideration, offered him a room next to mine, in place of his room in Mr. Hartrey's house. *' My nephew David speaks German ; and he will help to make your life among us pleasant to you." With those words our good mistress left us together. Fritz opened the conversation with the easy self-confidence of a German student. "It is one bond of union between us that you speak my language," he began. " I am good at reading and writing English, but I speak badly. Have we any other sympathies in common ? Is it possible that you smoke ?" Poor Mr. Wagner had taught me to smoke. I answered by offering my new acquaintance a cigar. 12 JEZEBEUS DAUGHTER. "Another bond between us," cried Fritz. "We must be friends from this moment. Give me your hand." We shook hands. He lit his cigar, looked at me very attentively, looked away again, and puffed out his first mouthful of smoke with a heavy sigh. " I wonder whether we are united by a third bond ?" he said thoughtfully. "Are you a stiff Englishman? Tell me» friend David, may I speak to you with the freedom of a supremely wretched man ?" " As freely as you like," I answered. He still hesitated. " I want to be encouraged," he said. " Be familiar with me. Call me Fritz." I called him " Fritz." He drew his chair close to mine, and laid his hand affectionately on my shoulder. I began to think I had perhaps encouraged him a little too readily. " Are you in love, David?" He put the question just as coolly as if he had asked me what o'clock it was. I was young enough to blush. Fritz accepted the blush as a sufiicient answer. " Every moment I pass in ycur society," he cried with enthusiasm, " I like you better — I find you more eminently sympathetic. You are in love. Oiio word more — are there any obstacles in your way ?" There were obstacles in my way. She was too old for mo, and too poor for me — and it all came to nothing iu due course of time. I admitted the obstacles ; abstaining, with an Englishman's shyness, from entering into details. My reply was enough, and mo re than enough, for Fritz. " Good Heavens! ' he exclaimed ; " our destinies exactly resemble each other ! We are both supremely wretched men. David, I can res- train myself no longer ; I must positively embrace you !" I resisted to the best of my ability — but he was the stronger man of the two. His long arms almost strangled me ; his bristly moustache scratched my cheek. In my fir.-t involuntary impulse of disgust, I clenched my fist. Young JEZEBRVS DAUGHTER. 13 Mr. Keller never suspected (my English brethren alone will understand) how very near my fist and his head were to becoming personally and violently acquainted. Different nations — different customs. I can smile as I write about it now. Fritz took his seat again. " My heart is at ease ; I can pour myself out freely," he said. "Never, my friend, was there such an interesting love-story as mine. She is the sweetest girl living. Dark, slim, gracious, delightful, desir- able, just eighteen. The image, I should suppose, of what her widowed mother was at her age. Her name is Minna. Daughter and only child of Madame Fontaine. Madame Fontaine ia a truly grand creature, a Roman matron. She is the victim of eavy and scandal. Would you believe it ? There are wretches in Wiirzburg (her husband the doctor was professor of chemistry at the University) — there are wretches, I say, who call my Minna's mother * Jezebel,' and my Minna herself * Jezebel's Daughter !' I have fought three duels with my fellow-students to avenge that one insult. Alas, David, there is another person who is influenced by those odious calumnies ! — a person sacred to me — the honoured author of my being. Is it not dreadful ? My good father turns tyrant in this one thing ; declares I shall never marry ' Jezebel's Daughter ;' exiles me, by his paternal commands, to this foreign country; and perches mo on a high stool to copy letters. Ha! he little knows my heart. I am my Minna's and my Minna is mine. In body and soul, in time and in eternity, we are one. Do you see my tears ? Do my tears speak for me? The heart's relief is in crying freely. There is a German song to that effect. When I recover myself, I will sing it to you. Music is a great comforter ; music is the friend of love. There is another German song to that effect." He suddenly dried his eyes, and got on his feet ; some new idea had apparently occurred 14 JEZEBEL'S DAUGBTER. to him. "It is dreadfully dull here," he said; ** I am not usci] to evenings at home. Have you any music in London? Help me to forget Minna for an hour or tvro. Take me to the music." Having, by this time, heard quite enough of his raptures, I was eager on my side for a change of any kind. I helped him to foro:et Minna at a Vauxhall Concert. He thous^ht our English orchestra wanting in subtlety and spirit. On the other hand, he did full justice, afterwards, to our English bottled beer. "When we left the Gardens he sani? me that German song, " My heart's relief is crying freely," with a fervour of sentiment which must have awakened every light sleeper in the neighbourhood. Eetiring to my bedchamber, I found an open letter on my toilet-table. It was addressed to my aunt by the lawyer ; and it announced that he had decided on accompanying her to the madhouse — without pledging himself to any further concession. In leaving the letter for me to read, my aunt had written across it a line in pencil ; " You can go with us, David, if you like." My curiosity vras strongly roused. It is needless to say I decided on being present at the visit to Bedlam. CHAPTEB IV. On the appointed Monday we were ready to accompany my aunt to the madhouse. Whether she distrusted her own unaided judgment, or whether she wished to have as many witnesses as possible to the rash action in which she was about to engage, I cannot say. In either case, her first proceeding was to include Mr. Hartrey and Fritz Keller in the invitation already extended to the lawyer and myself. JEZEBEL'S DAUGHTER. 13 Tliey both declined to accomijany us. The bead-clerk made tbc aliairs of tbc ofuco serve for bis apolog-y,. it wa3 foreign post clay, and be could not possibly be absent frora bis desk. Fritz invented no excuses ; be confessed tbe trutb, in bis own outspoken manner. " I bave a borror of mad people," be said, " tbey so frigbten and distress me, tbat tbcy make me feel balf mad myself. Don't ask mo to go with you — and ob, dear lady, don't go yourself." My aunt smiled sadly — and led tbe way out. We bad a special order of admission to tbe Hospital wbicb placed tbe resident superintendent bimself at our disposal. He received my aunt witb tbe utmost politeness, and proposed a scbeme of bis own for conducting us over tbe wbole building ; Tvdtb an invitation to take luncbeon witb bim afterwards at bis private residence. " At anotber time, sir, I sball be bappy to avail myself of your kindness," my aunt said, wbcn be bad done. " For tbe present, my object is to see one person only among tbe un- fortunate creatures in tbis asylum." " One person only ?" repeated tbe superintendent. *' One of our patients of tbe bigber rank, I suppose ?" " On tbe contrary," my aunt replied, " I wisb to see a poor friendless creature, found in tbe streets ; known bere, as I am infonned, by no better name tban Jack Straw." Tbe superintendent looked at ber in blank amazement. " Good Heavens, madam !" be exclaimed ; " are you awaro tbat Jack Straw is one of tbe most dangerous lunatics vre bave in tbe bouse ?'* " I bave beard tbat bo bears tbe cbaracter you describe," my aunt quietly admitted. " And yet you wisb to see bim ?'* " I am bere for tbat purpose — a^nd no otber.*' Tbc superintendent looked round at tbe lawyer and at me, ai)pealing to us silently to explain, if we could, tbis iucom* 16 JEZEBEUS DAUGHTER. prehensible desire to see Jack Straw. The lawyer spoke for both of us. He reminded the superintendent of the late Mr. Wagner's peculiar opinions on the treatment of the insane, and of the interest which he had taken in this par- ticular case. To which my aunt added : " And Mr. Wagner's widow feels the same interest, and inherits her late hus- band's opinions." Hearing this, the superintendent bowed with his best grace, and resigned himself to circumstances. ** Pardon me if I keep you waiting for a minute or two," he Baid, and rang a bell. A man-servant appeared at the door. " Are Yarcombe and Foss on duty on the south side ?" the superintendent asked. " Yes, sir." " Send one of them here directly." We waited a few minutes — and then a gruff voice became audible on the outer side of the door. " Present, sir," growled the gruff voice. The superintendent courteously offered his arm to my aunt. " Permit me to escort you to Jack Straw," he said, with a touch of playful irony in his tone. We left the room. The lawyer and I followed my aunt and her escort. A man, whom vre found posted on the door- mat, brought up the rear. Whether he was Yarcombe or whether he was Foss, mattered but little. In either case he was a hulking, scowling, hidoousl}^ ill-looking brulo. "One ®f our assistants," we heard the superintendent explain. " It is possible, madam, that we may want two of them, if we are to make things pleasant at your introduction to Jack Straw.'* We ascended some stairs, shut off from the lower floor by a massive locked door, and passed along some dreary stone passages, protected by more doors. Cries of rage and pain, at one time distant and at another close by, varied by yelling laughter, more terrible even than the cries, sounded on either JEZEBEHS DAUGHTER. 17 Bide of r.3. We lasscd tlirougli a last door, tlie most solid of all, wliicli shut out these dreadful noises, and found our- selves in a little circular hall. Hero the superintendi-ufc stopped, and listened for a moment. There was dead silence.. lie beckoned to the attendant, and pointed to a heavily nailed oaken door. " Look in," ho snid. The man drew aside a little shutter in the door, and looked throu^rh the hars which guarded the openiii;:^. "Is ho waking or sleeping?" the superintendent asked. *' Waking, sir." '' Is he at work ?" " Yes, sir." The supeiintendent turned to my aunt. " You are fortunate, madam — you will see him in his quiet moments. He amuses himself hy making hats, Ij iskets, and table-mats, out of his straw. Very neatly put together, I assure you. One of our visiting physicians, a man with a most remarkable sense of humour, gave him his nickname from his work. Shall we open the door?" J\lj aunt had turned very pale ; I could see that she wag struggling v/ith violent agita.tion. " Give me a minute or two first," she said; "I want to comj^ose myself before I sco him." She sat doAvn on a stone bench outside the door. " Tell me what you laiov/ about this poor man?" she said. *' J don't ask out of idle curiosit}^ — 1 have a better motive than that. Is he young or old ?" " Judging by his teeth," the superintendent answered, as if he had been speaking of a horse, "he is certainly young. Bat his complexkn is completely gone, and his hair has turned grey. So fsr R3 we have been able to make out (when he is willing to speak of himself), these peculiarities in his personal appearancft are due to a narrow escape from poison- c U JEZEBEL'S DAUGHTER. iiig by accident. But Low the accident occurred, and where it occurrecl, he either cannot or will not tell us. We know nothing about him, except that he is absolutely friendless. He speaks English — but it is with an odd kind, of accent — and "we don't know whether he is a foreigner or not. You are to understand, madam, that he is here on sufferance. This is a royal institution, and, as a rule, we only receive lunatics of the educated class. But Jack Straw has had wonderful luck. Being too mad, I suppose, to take care of himself, he was run over in one of the streets in our neigh- bourhood by the carriage of an exalted personage, whom it Would be an indiscretion on my part even to name. The personage (an illustrious lady, I may inform you) was so distressed by the accident — without the slightest need, for the man was not seriously hurt — that she actually had him brought here in her carriage, and laid her commands on us to receive him. Ah, Mrs. Wagner, her highness's heart is worthy of her highness's rank. She occasionally sends to inquire after the lucky lunatic who rolled under her horse's feet. We don't tell her what a trouble and expense he is to us. We have had irons specially invented to control him ; and, if I am not mistaken," said the superintendent, turning to the assistant, " a new whip was required only last week." The man put his hand into the big pocket of his coat, and produced a horrible whip, of many lashes. He exhibited this instrument of torture v.'ith every appearance of pride and pleasure. " This is what keeps him in order, my lady," said the brute, cheerfully. " Just take it in your hand." My aunt sprang to her feet. She was so indignant that I believe she would have laid the whip across the man's shoul- ders, if his master had not pushed him back without cere- mony. *' A zealous servant," said the superintendent, smiling pleasantly. " Please excuse him." My aunt pointed to the cell door. JEZEBEDS DAUGHTER. 19 " Open it," she said. " Let mc see anijthin^/, ratLer than eet eyes on tliat monster aga'n !'* The firmness of her tone evidently surprised the super- intendent. He knew nothing of the reserves of resolution in her, which the mere sight of the whip had called foa'th. The pallor had left her face ; she trembled no longer ; her fine grey eyes were bright and steady. " That brute has roused her," said the lawyer, looking back at the assistant, and whispering to me ; " nothing will restrain her, David — she will have her way now." CHAPTER V. The superintendent opened the cell door with his own hand. Wo found ourselves in a narrow, lofty prison, like an apartment in a tower. High up, in one corner, the grim stone walls were pierced by a grated opening, which let ia air and light. Seated on the floor, in the angle formed by the junction of two walls, we saw the superintendent's " lucky lunatic" at vv^ork, with a truss of loose straw on either side of him. The slanting rays of light from the high window streamed down on his prematurely grey hair, and showed us the strange yellow pallor of his complexion, and the youthful symmetry of his hands, nimbly occupied with their work. A heavy chain held him to the wall. It was not only fostcned round his waist, it also fettered his legs between the knee and the ankle. At the same time, it wds long enough to allow him a range of crippled movement, within a circle of five or six feet, as well as I could calculate at the time. Above his head, ready for use if required, liuiig a small chain evidently intended to confijie his hands at tho wrists. Unless I was deceived by his crouching attitude, he was small in stature. His ragged dress barefy covored hia 20 JEZEBEL'S DAUGHTER. emaciated form. In other and happier days, he must have been a well-mu.de little man ; his feet and ankles, like his hands, were finely and delicately formed. He was so ab- sorbed in his employment that he had evidently not heard the talking outside his cell. It was only when the door was banged to by the assistant (who kept behind us, at a sign from the superintendent) that he looked up. We now saw his large vacantly-patient brown eyes, the haggard outline of his face, and his nervously sensitive lips. For a moment, he looked from one to the other of the visitors with a quiet childish curiosity. Then his wandering glances detected the assistant, waiting behind us with the whip still in his hand. In an instant the whole expression of the madman's face changed. Ferocious hatred glittered in his eyes ; his lips> suddenly retracted, showed his teeth like the teeth of a wild beast. My aunt perceived the direction in which he was looking, and altered her position so as to conceal from him the hateful figure with the whip, and to concentrate his atten- tion on herself. With startling abruptness, the poor creature's expression changed once more. His eyes softened, a faint sad smile trembled on his lips. He dropped the straw which he had been plaiting, and lifted his hands with a gesture of admiration. " The pretty lady !" he whispered to hiuiseU *' Oh, the pretty lady !'* He attempted to crawl out from the wall, as far as his chain would let him. At a sign from the superintendent he stopped, and sighed bitterly. " I wouldn't hurt the lady for the world,'* he said; " I beg your pardon, Mistress, if I have frightened you." His voice was wonderfully gentle. But there was some- thing strange in his accent — and there was perhaps a foreign formality in his addressing my aunt f^ " Mistress." English- men in general would have called her " ma'am." We men kept our places at a safe distance from his chain. JEZEBEL'S DAUGHTER. 2\ My aunt, witli a woman's impulsive contempt of danger when her compassion is strongly moved, stepped forward to liiu'. The superintendent caught her by the arm and checked her. *' Take care," he said. " You don't know him as well as we do." Jack's eyes turned on the superintendent, dilating slowly. Ilis lips began to part again — I feared to see the ferocious expression in his face once more. I was wrong. In the very moment of another outbreak of rage, the unhappy man showed that he was still capable, under strong internal in- fluence, of restraining himself. He seized the chain that held him to the wall in both hands, and wrung it with such convulsive energy that I almost expected to see the bones of his fingers start through the skin. His head dropped on his breasfe, his wasted figure quivered. It was only for an instant. When he looked up again, his poor vacant brown eyes turned on my aunt, dim with tears. She instantly shook off the superintendent's hold on her arm. Before it was possible to interfere, she was bending over Jack Straw, with one of her pretty white hands laid gently on his head. "How your head burns, poor Jack I" she said simply. " Does my hand cool it ?" Still holding desperately by the chain, he answered like a timid child. " Yes, Mistress j your hand cools it. Thank you." She took up a little straw hat on which he had been working when his door was opened. "This is very nicely done, Jack," she went on. " Tell, me how you first came to make these pretty things with your straw." He looked up at her with a sudden accession of confidence ; her interest in the hat had flattered him. *' Once," he said, " there was a time when my hands were the maddest things about me. They used to turn against me and tear my hair and my flesh, Xn angel in a dream 22 JEZEBEDS DAUGHTER. told DIG liow to keep them quiet. An angel said, * Let tliem work at your straw.* All day long I plaited my straw. I would have gone on all night too, if they would only have given me a light. My nights are bad, my nights are dreadful. The raw air eats into me, the black darkness frightens rne. Shall I tell you what is the greatest blessing in the world ? Daylight ! Daylight ! ! Daylight ! ! ! At each repetition of the word his voice rose. He was on the point of breaking into a scream, when he took a tighter turn of his chain and instantly silenced himself. " I am quiet, sir," he said, before the superintendent could reprove him. My aunt added a word in his favour. " Jack has promised not to frighten me ; and I am sure he will keep his word • Have you never had parents or friends to be kind to you, my poor fellow r" she asked, turning to him again. He looked up at her. " Never," he said, " till you came here to see me." As he spoke, there was a flash of intelli- gence in the bright gratitude of his eyes. "Ask me some- thing else," he pleaded j " and see how quietly I can answer you," " Is it true, Jack, that you were once poisoned by accident, •ind nearly killed by it ?" " Yes !" " Where was it ?" " Far avvay in another country. In the doctor's big room, tn the time when I was the doctor's man." " Who was the doctor ?" He put his hand to his head. " Give me more time," he said. " It hurts me when I try to remember too much. Let iiie finish my hat first. I want to give you m^ hat when it's done. You don't know how clever I am with my fingers and thumbs. Just look and see !" He set to work on the hat ; perfectly happy while my aunt JE^EBEVS DAUGllTEk. 23 v;^as looking at liim. The lawyer was the unluclvy person v/lio produced a change for the worse. Having hitherto remained passive, this worthy gentleman seemed to think it A^as due to his own importance to take a prominent part in the proceedings. " My professional experience will come iu well here," he said ; " I mean to treat him as an unwilling witness ; you will see we shall get something out of him iu that way. Jack !" The unwilling witness went on impenetrably with his work. The lawyer (keeping well out of reach of the range of the chain) raised his voice. " Hullo, there !" he cried, " you're not deaf, are you?" Jack looked up, with an impish expression of mischief in his eyes. A man with a modest opinion of himself would have taken warning, and would have said no more. Tho lawyer persisted. " Now, my man ! let us have a little talk. * Jack Straw* can't be your proper name. What is your name ?" "Anything you like," said Jack. " What's yours?" " Oh, come ! that won't do. You must have had a father and mother." " Not that I know of." *' Where were you born?" *' In the gutter." " How were you brought up ?" " Sometimes with a cuff on the head." " And at other times?" " At other times with a kick. Do be quiet, and let ma finish my hat." The discomfited lawyer tried a bribe as a last resource. He held up a shilling. " Do you see this ?" " No, I don't. I see nothing but my hat." This reply brought the examination to an end. The lawyer looked at the superintendent, and said, " A hopeless casey 24 JEZEBEL'S DAUGHTER. sir." Tlie snpcrinteudent looked at the lawyer, and ansYrercd, " Perfectly hopeless." Jack finished his hat, and gave it to my aunt. " Do you like it, now it's done ?" he asked. " I like it rery much," she answered: ** and one of these days I shall trim it with ribbons, and wear it for your sake." She appealed to the superintendent, holding out the hat to him. " Look," she said. " There is not a false turn anywhere in all this intricate plaiting. Poor Jack is sane enough to fix his attention to this subtle work. Do you give him up as incurable, when he can do that r" The superintendent waved away the question with his hand. " Purely mecha,nical," he replied. " It means nothing." Jack touched my aunt. " I want to whisper," he said. She bent down to him, and listened. I saw her smile, and asked, after we had left the asylum, what he had said. Jack had stated his opinion of the prin- cipal officer of Bethlehem Hospital in these words : " Don't you listen to him. Mistress ; he's a poor half-witted creature. And short, too — not above six inches taller than I am !" But my aunt had not done with Jack's enemy yet. " I am sorry to trouble you, sir," she resumed — " I have something more to say before I go, and I wish to say it pri vately. Can you spare me a few minutes ?" The amiable superintendent declared that he was entirely at her service. She turned to Jack to say good-bye. The sudden discovery that she was about to leave him was more than he could sustain ; he lost his self-control. " Stay with me !" cried the poor wretch, seizing her by both hands. " Oh, be merciful, and stay with me !" She preserved her presence of mind — she would permit no interference to protect her. Without starting back, without even attempting to release herself, she spoke to him quietly. jEZEhEUB DAucirn:n. 25 " Let us shake hands for to-claj," she said ; " you hnvo kept your promise, Jack — you have been quiet and good. I must leave you for a while. Lot me go." He obstinately shook his head, and still held her. " Look at me," she persisted, v.ithout showing nny fear of him. " I want to tell you something. You are no longer a friendless creature, Jack. You have a friend in me. Look up." Her clear firm tones had their effect on him ; he looked up. Tiieir eyes met. *' Now, let me go, as I told you." He dropped her hand, and threw himself back in his corner and burst out crying. " I shall never see her again," he moaned to himself, ** ITcver, never, never again !" *' You shall see me to-morrow," she said. He looked at her through his tears, and looked away again with an abrupt change to distrust. " She doesn't mean it," he muttered, still speaking to himself; " she only says it to pacify me." " You shall see me to-morrow," my aunt reiterated ; " I promise it." He was cowed, but not convinced ; he crawled to the full length of his chain, and lay down at her feet like a dog. She considered for a moment — and found her way to his confi- dence at last. " Sball I leave you something to keep for me until I see you again?" The idea struck him like a revelation: he lifted his head, and eyed her with breathless interest. She gave him a littlo ornamental handbag, in which she was accustomed to carry her handkerchief, and purse, and smelling-bottle. *' I trust it entirely to you. Jack : you shall give it back to me when we meet to-morrow." 8d JEZEBEL'S DAUGHTER. Tlioso simple words more than reconciled him to her departure — they subtly flattered his self-esteem. " You will find your bag torn to pieces, to-morrow," the superintendent whispered, as the door was opened for us to go out. " Pardon me, sir," my aunt replied ; " I believe I shall find it quite safe." The last we saw of poor Jack, before the door closed on him, he was hugging the bag in both arms, and kissing it. CHAPTER YI. On our return to home, I found Fritz Keller smoking his pipe in the walled garden at the back of the house. In those days, it may not be amiss to rema.rk that mer- chants of the old-fashioned sort still lived over their counting- houses in the city. The late Mr. Wagner's place of business included two spacious houses standing together, with internal means of communication. One of these buildings was devoted to the oiEces and warehouses. The other (having the garden at the back) was the private residence. Fritz advanced to meet me, and stopped, with a sudden change in his manner. " Something has happened," he said — " I see it in your face ! Has the madman anything to do with it ?" *' Yes. Shall I tell you what has happened, Fritz ?" " Not for the world. My ears are closed to all dreadful and distressing narratives. I will imagine the madman — let as talk of something else." " You will probably see him, Fritz, in a few weeks' time.** ** You don't mean to tell me he is coming into this house?" " I am afraid it's likely, to say the least of it." Fritz looked at me like a man thunderstruck. " Thors JEZEBEUS DAUGUTEll. 27 arc some disclosures," lie said, in liis quaint way, " wliicb. n-rc too overwhelming to l>c received on one's legs. Lot us Git down." lie led tlie way to a summer-house at the end of the garden. On the wooden table, I observed a bottle of the English beer which my friend prized so highly, ^^ ith glasses on either side of it. " I had a presentiment that we should want a consoling something of this sort," said Fritz. *' Fill your glass, David, and let out the worst of it at once, before we get to the end of the bottle." I let out the best of it first — that is to say, I told him wr.;it I have related in the preceding pages. Fritz was deeply interested: full of compassion for Jack Straw, but not in the least converted to my aunt's confidence in him. " Jack is supremely pitiable," he remarked ; " but Jacl: is also a smouldering volcano — and smouldering volcanoes burst into eruption when the laws of nature compel them. My only ho2)e is in Mr. Superintendent. Surely he will not let this madman loose on us, with nobody but your aunt to hold the chain ? What did she really say, when you left Jack, and had your private talk in the reception-room? One minute, my friend, before you begin," said Fritz, groping under the bench upon which we were seated. " I ha«l a second presentiment that we might want a second bottle — and here it is ! Fill your glass ; and let us establish our- selves in our respective positions — you to administer, and I to sustain, a severe shock to the moral sense. I think, David, this second bottle is even more deliciously brisk than the first. Well, and v/hat did your aunt say ?" My aunt had said much more tLan I could possibly tell Aim. In substance it had come to this : — After seeing the whip, and seeing the chains, and seeing the man — she h?'/l actually 88 JEZEBEUS DAUGHTER. determined to commit herself to the perilous experiment which her husband would have tried, if he had lived ! As to the means of procuring Jack Straw's liberation from the Hospital, the powerful influence which had insisted on his being received bj the Institution, in defiance of rules, could also insist on his release, and could be approached bj the intercession of the same ofiicial person, whose interest in the matter had been aroused by Mr. Wagner in the last days of his life. Having set forth her plans for the future in these terms, my aunt appealed to the lawyer to state the expression of her wishes and intentions, in formal writing, as a prelimi- nary act of submission towards the governors of the osylum. " And what did the lawyer say to it ?" Fritz inquired, after I had reported my aunt's proceedings thus far. *' The lawyer declined, Fritz, to comply with her request. He said, * It would be inexcusable, even in a man, to run such a risk — I don't believe there is another woman in England who would think of such a thing.' Those were his words." " Did they have any effect on her ?'* '* Not the least in the world. She apologised for having wasted his valuable time, and wished him good morning. * If nobody will help me,' she said, quietly, * I must help myself.* Then she turned to me. * You have seen how carefully and delicately poor Jack can worlj:,' she said ; * you have seen him tempted to break out, and yet caj^able of re- straining himself in my presence. And, more than that, on the one occasion when he did lose his self-control, you saw how he recovered himself when he was calmly and kindly reasoned with. Are you content, David, to leave such a man for the rest of his life to the chains and the whip ?* What could I say ? She was too considerate to press me ; she only asked me to think of it. I have been trying to think of it JEZEBEL'S DAUGHTER. 33 ever since — and the more I try, the more I dread the conse- quences if that madman is brought into the house." Fritz shuddered at the prospect. ** On the day when Jack comes into the house, I shall go out of it," he said. The social consequences of my aunt's contemplated experiment suddenly struck him while he spoke. " What will Mrs. Wagner's friends think ?" he asked piteously. " They will refuse to visit her — they will say she's mad herself." " Don't let that distress you, gentlemen — I shan't mind what my friends say of me." We both started in confusion to our feet. My aunt her- self was standing at the open door of the summer-house with a letter in her hand. " News from Germany, just come for you, Fritz." With those words, she handed him the letter, and left us. AVe looked at each other thoroughly ashamed of ourselves, if the truth must be told. Fritz cast an uneasy glance at the letter, and recognised the handwriting on the address. ** From my father !" he said. As he opened the envelope a second letter enclosed fell out on the floor. He changed colour as he picked it up, and looked at it. The seal was unbroken — the postmark was Wiirzburg. CHAPTEE YII. Fritz kept the letter from Wiirzburg unopened in his hand. ** It's not from I^finna,** he said ; " the handwriting is strange to me. Perhaps my father knows something about it." He turned to his father's letter ; read it ; and handed it to me without a word of remark. Mr. Keller wrote briefly as follows ; — 60 JEZEBEL'S DAUGHTER. " The enclosed letter Las reached me by post, as yon per- ceive, v/itli written instructions to forward it to my son. The laws of honour guide me just as absolutely in my relations with my son as in my relations witli any otlier gentleman. I forward the letter to you exactly as I have received it. But I cannot avoid noticing tlie postmark of the city in whicli the Vvidow Fontaine and her dau^-hter are still livincj. If either Minna or her mother be the person who writes to you, I must say plainly that I forbid your entering into any corresjDondence with them. The two families shall never be connected by marriage while I live. Understand, my dear son, that this is said in your own best interests, and said, therefore, from the heart of your father who loves you." While I was reading these lines Fritz had opened the letter from Wiirzburg. " It's long enough, at any rate," he said, turning over the closely-written pages to find the sig- nature at the end. " Well ?" I asked. " Well," Fritz repeated, " it's an anonymous letter. The signature is ' Your Unknown Friend.' " " Perhaps it relates to Miss Minna, or to her mother," I sugcrested. Fritz turned back to the first page and looked up at me, red with anger. " More abominable slanders ! More lies about Minna's mother !" he burst out. "Come here, David. Look at it with me. What do you say? Is it the writing of a woman or a man ?" The writing was so carefully disguised that it was impos- sible to answer his c[uestion. The letter (like the rest of tlie correspondence connected with this narrative) has been copied in duplicate and placed at my disposal. I reproduce it here for reasons which will presently exiDiain themselves — —altering nothing, not even the vulgar familiarity of tho address. JEZEBEL* S DAUGHTER. Ttl " I^.ij/ good fellow, you once did mo a kindness a lon^i^ ti;r:e fiinee. Never mind what it was or who I am. I mean to do you a kindness in return. Let that be enough. " You are in love with 'Jezebel's Daughter.' Now, don't bo angry ! I know you believe Jezebel to be a deeply-injured woman ; I know you have been foolish enough to fight dui.la at Wiirzburg in defence of her character. " It is enough for you that she is a fond mother, and that her innocent daughter loves her dearly. I don't deny tliat she is a fond mother ; but is the maternal instinct enough of itself to answer for a woman ? Why, Fritz, a cat is a fond mother ; but a cat scratches a.nd swears for all that ! And poor simple little Minna, who can see no harm in anybody- ^. who can't discover wickedness when it stares her in the fac«; — is she a trustworthy witness to the widow's character ? Bah ! *' Don't tear up my letter in a rage ; I am not going to argue the question with you any further. Certain criminal circumstances have come to my knowledge, which point straight to this woman. I shall plainly relate those circum- stances, out of my true regard for you, in the fervent hope that I may open your eyes to the truth. " Let us go back to the death of Doctor-Professor Fontaine, E^ his apartments in the University of Wiirzburg, on the 3rd of September, in the present year 1828. " The poor man died of typhoid fever, as you know — and died in debt, through no extravagance on his own part, as you also know. He had outlived all his own relatives, and had no pecuniary hopes or expectations from any one. Under these circumstances, he could only leave the written expression of his last wishes, in place of a will. " This document committed his widow and child f^ the care of his widow's relations, in terms of respectful entreaty. Speaking next of himself, he directed that he should be S3 JEZEBEUS DAUGHTER. buried witli tlio strictest economy, so that lie mic:lit cost the University as little as possible. Thirdly, and lastly, he appointed one of his brother professors to act as his sole executor, in disposing of those contents of his laboratory which were his own property at the time of his death. " The written instructions to his executor are of such serious importance that I feel it my duty to copj^ them for you, word for word. " Thus they begin : — " ' I hereby appoint my dear old friend and collcac;u3, Professor Stein — now absent for a while at Munich, on University business — to act as my sole representative in the disposal of the contents of my laboratory, after my death. The various objects used in my chemical investigations, which are my own private property, will be all found arranged on the long deal table that stands between the two windows. They are to be offered for sale to my successor, in the first instance. If he declines to purchase them, they can then be sent to Munich, to be sold sep.aratoly by the manufacturer, as occasion may offer. The furniture of the laboratory, both movable and stationary, belongs entirely to the University, excepting the contents of an iron safe built into the south wall of the room. As to these, which are my own sole property, I seriously enjoin my executor and repre- sentative to follow my instructions to the letter : — " ' (1) Professor Stein will take care to be accompanied by a competent witness, when he opens the safe in the wall. " * (2) The witness will take down in writing, from the dictation of Professor Stein, an exact list of the contents of the safe. These are: — Bottles containing drugs, tin cases containing j)owders, and a small medicine-chest, having six compartments, each occupied by a labelled bottle, holding a liquid preparation. '" (3) The wntten list being complete, I desire Profesr^or JEZEBEL'S DAUGUTER, 83 Stein to empty every one of the bottles and cases, including the bottles in the medicine-chest, into the laboratory sink, with his own hands. He is also to be especially careful to destroy the labels on the bottles in the medicine-chest. These things done, he will sign the list, stating that the work of destruction is accomplished ; and the witness present will add his signature. The document, thus attested, is to be placed in the care of the Secretary to the University. *' ' My object in leaving these instructions is simply to prevent the dangerous results which might follow any meddling with my chemical preparations, after my death. " ' In almost every instance, these preparations are of a poisonous nature. Having made this statement, let me add, in justice to myself, that the sole motive for my investigations has been the good of mv fellow- creatures. " ' I have been anxious, in the first place, to enlarge the list of curative medicines having poison for one of their ingredients. I have attempted, in the second place, to dis- cover antidotes to the deadly action of these poisons, which (in cases of crime or accident) might be the means of saving life. " * If I had been spared for a few years longer, I should so far have completed my labours as to have ventured on leaving them to be introduced to the medical profession by my suc- cessor. As it is — excepting one instance, in which I ran the risk, and was happily enabled to preserve the life of a poisoned man — I have not had time so completely to verify my theories, by practical experiment, as to justify me in revealing my dis- coveries to the scientific world for the benefit of mankind. " * Under these circumstances, I am resigned to the sacrifice of my ambition — I only desire to do no harm. If any of my preparations, and more particularly those in the medicine- chest, fell into ignorant or wicked hands, I tremble when I think of the consequences which might follow. My one regret 81 JF.ZE-DEVS DAUGHTER. 13, tliat I \\^\(i iK)t strencctli enough to rise from mv bed, and do tlic good work of destruction myself. Mj friend and executor will take my place. " ' The key of the laboratory door, and the key of the safe, will be secured this day in the presence of my medical attendant, in a small wooden box. The box will be sealed (before the same witness) with my own seal. I shall keep it under my pillow, to give it myself to Professor Stein, if I \ live until he returns from Munich. " ' If I die while my executor is still absent, my beloved wife is the one person in the world whom I can implicitly trust to take charge of the sealed box. She will give it to Professor Stein, immediately on his return to Wiirzburg; together v/ith these instructions, which will be placed in the box along with the keys.* " There are the instructions, friend Fritz ! They are no secret now. The Professor has felt it his duty to make them public in a court of law, in consequence of the events which followed Doctor Fontaine's death. You are interested in those events, and you shall be made acquainted with them before I close my letter. " Professor Stein returned from Munich too late to receive the box from the hands of his friend and colleague. It was presented to him by the Widow Fontaine, in accordance with her late husband's wishes. " The Professor broke the seal. Having read his Instruc- tions, he followed them to the letter, the same day. " Accompanied by the Secretary to the University, as a witness, he opened the laboratory door. Leaving tb^^ sale of the objects on the table to be provided for at a later date, he proceeded at once to take the list of the bottles juid cases, v/hose contents he was bound to destroy. On opening the safe, these objects were found as the Instructions led him to JIZEDEUS DAUGHTER. S5 anticipate: the dust lying tliick on iliem vonclicd for tlicir having been left undisturbed. The list being completed, the contents of the bottles and cases were thereupon tlirowp away by the Professor's own hand. " On looking next, however, for the medicine-chest, no euch thing was to be discovered in the safe. The laboratory Y.'as searched from end to end, on the chance that some mis- take had been m.ade. Still no medicine-chest was to be found. " Upon this the Widow Fontaine was questioned. Did Blie know what had become of the medicine-chest ? She v«\a3 not even aware that such a thing existed. Had she been careful to keep the sealed box so safely that no other person could get at it? Certainly ! She had kept it locked in ong of her dravfers, and the key in her pocket. " The lock of the drawer, and the locks of the laboratory door and the safe, were examined. They showed no sign of having been tampered with. Persons employed in the University, who were certain to know, were asked if dupli- cate keys existed, and all united in answering in the negative. The medical attendant v/as examined, and declared that it was physically impossible for Doctor Fontaine to have left his bed, and vi-sited the laboratory, between the time of writing his Instructions and the time of his death. " While these investigations were proceeding. Doctor Fon- taine's senior assistant obtained leave to examine through a microscope the sealing-wax left on the box whicli had con- tained the keys. " The result of this examination, and of the chemical ana- lyses which followed, proved- that two different kinds of sealing- wax (both of the same red colour, superficially viewed) had been used on the seal of the box — an undermost layer of one kind of wax, and an uppermost layer of another, minglec with the undermost in certain places only. The plain infe-^ 13 JEZEBEL'S DAUGHTER. fence followed tliat the Doctor's scaling-\Yax had been softened by heat so as to allow of the opening of the box, and that new geaHng-wax had been afterwards added, and impressed bj the Doctor's seal so that the executor might suspect nothing. Here, again, the evidence of the medical attendant (present at the time) proved that Doctor Fontaine had only used one stick of sealing-wax to secure the box. The seal itself was found in the possession of the widow ; placed carelessly in the china tray in which she kept her rings after taking them off for the night. " The affair is still under judicial investigation. I will not trouble you by reporting the further proceedings in detail. " Of course, Widow Fontaine awaits the result of the investigation with the composure of conscious innocence. Of course, she has not only submitted to an examination of her lodgings, but has insisted on it. Of course, no red sealing- wax and no medicine-chest have been found. Of course, some thief unknown, for some purpose quite inconceivable, got at the box and the seal, between the Doctor's death and the return of the Professor from Munich, and read the Instructions and stole the terrible medicine-chest. Such is the theory adopted by the defence. If you can believe it — then I have written in vain. If, on the other hand, you are the sensible young man I take you to be, follow my advice. Pity poor little Minna as much as you please, but look out for another young lady with an unimpeachable mother; and think yourself lucky to have two such ad- visers as your excellent father, and Your Unknown Friend.** CHAPTEE Vin. " I WILL lay any wager you like," said Fntz, when we had ^ome to the end of the letter, " that the wretch who haa written this is a woman.'* JEZEBEUS DAUGHTER. 87 " What makes you think so ?" " Because all the fiilse reports about poor Madame Fon- taine, when I was at Wiirzburg, were traced to women. Thej envy and hate Minna's mother. She is superior to them in everything; handsome, distinguished, dresses to perfection, possesses all the accomplishments — a star, I tell you, a brilliant star among a set of dowdy domestic drudges. Isn't it infamous, without an atom of evidence against her, to take it for granted that she is guilty? False to her dead hus- band's confidence in her, a broaker of seals, a stealer of poisons — what an accusation agniust a defenceless woman ! Oh, my poor dear Minna ! how she must feel it ; she doesn't possess her mother's strength of mind. I shall fly to Wiirz- burg to comfort her. My father may say Avhat he pleases ; I can't leave these two persecuted women without a friend. Suppose the legal decision goes against the widow? How do I know that judgment has not been pronounced already? The suspense is intolerable. Do you mean to tell me I am bound to obey my father, when his conduct is neither just nor reasonable?" " Gently, Fritz— gently !" " I tell you, David, I can prove what I say. Just listen to this. My father has never even seen Minna's mother ; ho blindly believes the scandals afloat about her — he denies that v^ny woman can be generally disliked and distrusted among her neighbours without some good reason for it. I assure you, on my honour, he has no better excuse for forbidding me to marry Minna than that. Is it just, is it reasonable, to condemn a woman without first hearing what she has to say in her own defence ? Ah, now indeed I feel the loss of my own dear mother ! If she had been alive she would have exerted her influence, and have made my father ashamed of hig own narrow prejudices. My position is maddening ; my head whirls when I think of it. If I go to Wiirzburg, my father S8 JEZEDEUS DAUGHTER. will never speak to me again. If I stay here, I shall cut my throat.'* There was still a little beer left in the bottom of the second bottle. Fritz poured it out, with a gloomy resolution to absorb it to the last drop. I took advantage of this momentary pause of silence to recommend the virtue of patience to the consideration of my friend. News from Wiirzburg, I reminded him, might be obtained in our immediate neighbourhood by consulting a file of German journals, kept at a foreign coffee-house. By way of strengthening the good influence of this suggestion, I informed Fritz that I expected to be shortly sent to Frank- fort, as the bearer of a business communication addressed to Mr. Keller by my aunt ; and I offered privately to make inquiries, and (if possible) even to take messages to Wiirz- burg — if he would only engage to wait patiently for tha brighter prospects that might show themselves in the tima to come. I had barely succeeded in tranquillisiug Fritz, when my attention was claimed by the more serious and pressing subject of the liberation of Jack Straw. My aunt sent to say that she wished to see me. I found her at her writing-table, with the head-clerk established at the desk opposite. Mr. Hartrey was quite as strongly opposed as the lawyer to any meddling with the treatment of mad people on the part of my aunt. But he placed his duty to his employer before all other considerations ; and he rendered, under respectful protest, such services as were required of him. Ho was now engaged in drawing out the necessary memoriala and statements, under the instructions of my aunt. Her object in sending for me was to inquire if I objected to making fair copies of the rough drafts thus produced, lu the present stage of the affair, she was unwilling to talle tho JEZEBEL'S DAUGBTKR. 39 clerlis at the office into lier conriJence. As a matter of course, I followed Mr. Hartrey's example, and duly subordinated my own opinions to my aunt's convenience. On the next day, she paid her promised visit to poor Jack. The bag which she had committed to his care was returned to her without the slightest injury. Naturally enough, she welcomed this circumstance as offering a new encouragement to the design that she had in view. Mad Jack could not only understand a responsibility, but could prove himself worthy of it. The superintendent smiled, and said, in his finely ironical way, " I never denied, madam, that Jack was cunning." From that date, my aunt*3 venturesome enterprise advanced towards completion with a rapidity that astonished us. Applying, in the first instance, to the friend of her late husband, holding a position in the Eoyal Household, she was met once more by the inevitable objections to her design. She vainly pleaded that her purpose was to try the experi- ment modestly in the one pitiable case of Jaok Straw, and that she would willingly leave any further development of her husband's humane project to persons better qualified to encounter dangers and difficulties than herself. The only concession that she could obtain was an appointment for a sccuiid interview, in the presence of a gentleman whose opinion it would be important to consult. He was one of the physicians attached to the Court, and he was known to be a man of liberal views in his profession. Mrs. Wagner would do well, in her own interests, to be guided by his disinterested advice. Keeping this second appointment, my aunt provided herself with a special means of persuasion in the shape of her hus- band's diary, containing his unfinished notes on the treatmeul of insanity by moral influence. As slic had anticipated, the physitiau invited to advise hel 10 JEZEBELS DAUGHTER. was readier to read the notes than to listen to her own im- perfect explanation of the object in view. He was strongly impressed by the novelty and good sense of the ideas that her husband advocated, and was candid enough openly to acknow- ledge it. But he, too, protested against any attempt on the part of a woman to carry out any part of the proposed reform, even on the smallest scale. Exasperated by these new remon- strances, my aunt's patience gave way. Refusing to submit herself to the physician's advice, she argued the question boldly from her own point of view. The discussion was at its height, when the door of the room was suddenly opened from without. A lady in walking-costume appeared, with two ladies in attendance on her. The two gentlemen started to their feet, and whispered to my aunt, " The Princess !" This was the ** exalted personage" whom the superintendent at Bethlehem had been too discreet to describe more par- ticularly as a daughter of George the Third. Passing the door on her way to the Palace- gardens, the Princess had heard the contending voices, and the name of Jack distinctly pro- nounced in a woman's tones. Inheriting unusually vigorous impulses of curiosity from her august father, her Highness opened the door and joined the party without ceremony. " What are you quarrelling about ?" inquired the Princess, " And who is this lady ?" Mrs. Wagner was presented, to answer for herself. She made the best of the golden opportunity that had fallen into her hands. The Princess was first astonished, then interested, then converted to my aunt's view of the case. In the monotonous routine of Court life, here was a romantic adven- ture in which even the King's daughter could take some share. Her Highness quoted Boadicea, Queen Elizabeth, and Joan of Ar«n as women who had matched the men on their own ground — and coinplimented Mrs. Wagner as a heroine of the same type. JEZEBEVS DAUGBTER. 41 " You are a fine creature," said the Princess, '* and you may trust to me to help you with all my heart. Come to my apartments to-morrow at this time — and tell poor Jack that I have not forgotten him." Assailed by Royal influence, all the technical obstacles that lawyers, doctors, and governors could raise to the liberation of Jack Straw were sot aside by an ingenious appeal to the letter of the law, originating in a suggestion made by the Princess herself. " It lies in a nutshell, my dear," said her Highness to my aunt. " They tell me I broke the rules when I insisted on having Jack admitted to the Hospital. Now, your lato husband was one of the governors; and you are his sole executor. Very good. As your husband's representative, complain of the violation of the rules, and insist on the dis- charge of Jack. He occupies a place which ought to be filled by an educated patient in a higher rank of life. Oh, never mind me! I shall express my regret for disregarding tho regulations — and, to prove my sincerity, I shall consent to the poor creature's dismissal, and assume the whole respon- sibility of providing for him myself. There is the way out of our difficulty. Take it — and you shall have Jack when- ever you want him." In three weeks from that time, the " dangerous lunatic" was free (as our friend tho lawyer put it) to " murder Mrs. Wagner, and to burn the house down." How my aunt's perilous experiment was conducted — in what particulars it succeeded and in what particulars it failed — I am unable to state as an eyewitness, owing to my absence at the time. This curious portion of the narrative will be found related by Jack himself, on a page still to come. In the meanwhile, the course of events compels me to revert to the circumstances which led to my departure from London. While Llrs. Wagner was still in attendance at the palace, 42 JEZEBEL'S DA UOHTER. a letter readied her from Mr. Keller, stating tlio necessity of increasing tlie number of clerks at the Frankfort branch of our business. Closely occupied as she then was, she found time to provide me with those instructions to her German partners, preparing them for the coming employment of women in their office, to whieh she had first alluded when the lawyer and I had our interview with her after the reading of the will. *•' The cause of the women," she said to me, " must not suffer because I happen to be just now devoted to the cause of poor Jack. Gro at once to Frankfort, David. I have written enough to prepare my partners there for a change in the administration of the office, and to defer for the present the proposed enlargement of our staff of clerks. The rest you can yourself explain from your own knowledge of the plan that I have in contemplation. Start on your journey as soon as possible — and understand that you are to say No posi- tively, if Fritz proposes to accompany you. He is not to leave London without the express permission of his father." Fritz did propose to accompany me, the moment he heard of my journey. I must own that I thought the circumstances excused him. On the previous evening, we had consulted the German newspapers at the coffee-house, and had found news from Wiirzburg which quite overwhelmed my excitable friend. Being called upon to deliver their judgment, the authorities presiding at the legal inquiry into the violation of the seals and the loss of the medicine-chest failed to agree in opinion, and thus brought the investigation to a most unsatisfactory end. The moral effect of this divisioai among the magistrates was unquestionably to cast a slur on the reputation of Widow Fontaine. She was not pronounced to be guilty — but she was aiso not declared to be innocent. Feeling, no doubt, tha^ her position among her neighbours had now become uncn* JEZEBEL'S DAUGHTEll 43 durable, she and her daughter had left Wiirzburg. The newspaper narrative added that their departure had been privately accomplished. No uiformation could be obtained of the place of their retreat. But for this last circumstance, I believe Fritz would have insisted on travelling with mo. Ignorant in what direction to begin the search for Minna and her mother, he consented to leave me to look for traces of them in Germany, while he remained behind to inquire at the different foreign hotels, on the chance that they might have tahcn refuge in London. The next morning I started for Frankfort. My spirits were high as I left the shores of England. I had a young man's hearty and natural enjoyment of change. Besides, it flattered my self-esteem to feel that I was my aunt's business-representative ; and I was almost equally proud to be Fritz's confidential friend. Never could any poor human creature have been a more innocent instrument of mischief in the hands of Destiny than I was, on that fatal journey. The day was dark, when the old weary way of travelling brought me at last to Frankfort. The unseen prospect, at the moment when I stepped out of the mail-post- carriage, was darker still. CHAPTER IX. I HAD just given a porter the necessary directions for taking my portmanteau to Mr. Keller's house, when I heard a woman's voice behind me asking the way to the Posto liestante — or, in our roundabout English phrase, the ofTiCG of letters to be left till called for. The voice was delightfully fresh and sweet, v;ith an under- tone of sadness, which made it additionally interesting. I did what most other young men in my place would have done — I looked round directly. 44 JEZEBEL'S DAUGHTER, Yes ! the promise of the voice was abundantly kept by the person. She was quite a young girl, modest and ladylike ; a little pale and careworn, poor thing, as if her experience ol life had its sad side already. Her face was animated by soft sensitive eyes — the figure supple and slight, the dress of the plainest material, but so neatly made and so perfectly worn that I should have doubted her being a German girl, if I had not lieard tlie purely South- G-erman accent in which she put her question. It was answered, briefly and civilly, by the conductor of the post-carriage in which I had travelled. But, at that hour, the old court-yard of the post-office was thronged with people arriving and departing, meeting their friends and posting their letters. The girl was evidently not used to crowds. She was nervous and confused. After ad- vancing a few steps in the direction pointed out to her, ebe stopped in bewilderment, hustled by busy people, and evidently in doubt already about which way she was to turn next. If I had followed the strict line of duty, I suppose I should have turned my steps in the direction of IMr. Keller's house, I followed my instincts instea-d, and offered my services to the young lady. Blame the laws of Nature and the attraction between the sexes. Don't blame me. " I heard you asking for the post-office," I said. " WiL you allow me to show you the way ?" She looked at me, and hesitated. I felt that I was paying the double penalty of being a young man, and of being per- haps a little too eager as well. " Forgive me for venturing to speak to you," I pleaded. " It is not very pleasant for a young lady to find herself alone in such a crowded place as this. I only ask permission to make myself of some trifling use to you." She looked at me again, and altered her first opinion. *'Tou are very kind, sir; I will thankfully accept your assistance." JEZEBEL'S DAUGHTER. 45 " May I offer you my arm ?" Slie declined this proposal — witli perfect amiability, how- ever. " Thank you, sir, I will follow you, if you please." I pushed my way through the crowd, with the charming stranger close at my heels. Arrived at the post-office, I drew aside to let her make her own inquiries. Would she mention her name ? No ; she handed in a passport, and asked if there was a letter waiting for the person named in it. The letter was found ; but was not immediately delivered. As well as I could understand, the postage had been insufficiently paid, and the customary double-rate was due. The young lady searched in the pocket of her dress — a cry of alarm escaped her. " Oh I" she exclaimed, " I have lost my purse, and the letter is so important !" It occurred to me immediately that she had had her pocket picked by some thief in the crowd. The clerk thought so too. He looked at the clock. " You must be quick about it if you return for the letter," he said, " the office closes in ten minutes." She clasped her hands in despair. "It's more than ten minutes' walk," she said, " before I can get home." I immediately offered to lend her the money. " It is such a very small sum," I reminded her, " that it would be absurd to consider yourself under any obligation to me." Between her eagerness to get possession of the letter, and her doubt of the propriety of accepting my offer, she looked sadly embarrassed, poor soul. " You are very good to me," she said confusedly ; " but I am afraid it might not be quite right in me to borrow money of a stranger, however little it may be. And, even if I did venture, how am I ?" She looked at me shyly, and shrank from finishing the sentence. " How are you to pay it back ?" I suggested, *' Yes, sir." 43 JEZEBELS DAUGHTER. "■ Oil, it's not worth tlie trouble of paying Ijaclc. G-ive it to tlie first poor person you meet witli to-morrow." I said tliis, witli the intention of reconciling her to the loan of the money. It had exactly the contrary effect on this singularly delicate and scrupulous girl. She drew back a step directly. " No, I couldn't do that," she said. " I could only accept your kindness, if " She stopped again. The clerk looked once more at the clock. *' Make up your mind, miss, before it's too late." In her terror of not getting the letter tha,t day, she spoke out plainly at last. " \Vill you kindly tell mo, sir, to what address I can return the money v/hen I get home ?" I paid for the letter first, and then answered the question. "If you v/ill be so good as to send it to Mr. Keller's house " Before I could add the name of the street, her pale fa'.'e suddenly flashed. "Oh!" she exclaimed impulsively, "do vou know Mr. Keller ?" A presentiment of the truth occurred to my mind for the first time. " Yes," I said ; " and his son Fritz too." She trembled ; the colour that had risen in her face left it instantly ; she looked away from me with a pained, humi- liated expression. Doubt was no longer possible. The charming stranger was Fritz's sweetheart — and " Jezebel's Daughter." My respect for the young lady forbade me to attempt any concealment of the discovery tha-t I had made. I said at once, " I believe I have the honour of speaking to Miss Minna Fontaine ?" She looked at me in wonder, not unmixed with distrust. " How do you know who I am?" she asked. " I can easily tell you. Miss Minna. I am David Glenney, nephew of Mrs. Wagner, of London. Fritz is staying in her jEZi:nrj:s daughter. a*j house, and lie and I Lave talked aboiifc you by tlie lioar fogetlicr." The poor girl's face, so pale and sad the moment before, became radiant with happiness. " Oh !" she cried innocently, **has Fritz not forgotten me?" Even at this distance of time, my memory recalls her lovely dark eyes riveted in breathless interest on my face, as I spolvo of Fritz's love and devotion, and told her that she was still the one dear image in his thoughts by day, in his dreams by night. All her shyness Tanished. She impulsively gave mo her hand. " How can I be grateful enough to the good ans^el who has brouG:ht us toi^ether !" she cxchiimecl. "If we were not in the street, I do believe, Mr. David, I should go down on xn.j knees to thank you ! You have made me the happiest girl living." Her voice suddenly failed her; she drew her veil down. " Don't mind me," she said; " I can't help crying for joy." Shall I confess v/hat my emotions were ? For the moment* I forgot my own liLtle love affair in England — and envied Fritz from the bottom of my heart. The chance-passengers in the street began to pause and look at us. I offered Minna my arm, and asked permission to attend her on the way home. "I should like it," she answered, with a friendly frankness that charmed me. " Bnt you are expected at Mr. Keller's — you must go there first." "May I call and see you to-morrow?" I persisted, "and save you the trouble of sending my money to IMr. Keller's ?" She lifted her veil and smiled at me brightly through her tears. "Yes," she said; "come to-morrow and be intro- duced to my mother. Oh ! how glad my dear mother will be to see you, when I tell her what has happened ! I am a selfish wretch ; 1 have not borne my sorrow and suspense as I ought ; I have made her miserable about me, because I 48 JEZEBEL'S DAUGHTER. was miserable about Fritz. It's all over now. Tliank you asraia and ae:ain. There is our address on that card. No, no, we must say good-bye till to-morrow. My mother is waiting for her letter ; and Mr. Keller is wondering what has become of you." She pressed my hand warmly and left me. On my way alone to Mr. Keller's house, I was not quite satisfied with myself. The fear occurred to me that I might have spoken about Fritz a little too freely, and might have excited hopes which could never be realised. The contem- plation of the doubtful future began to oppress my mind. Minna might have reason to regret that she had ever met with me. I was received by Mr. Keller with truly German cordiality. He and his partner Mr. Engelman — one a widower, the othei an old bachelor — lived together in the ancient building, in Main Street, near the river, which served for house and for offices alike. The two old gentlemen offered the completest personal contrast imaginable. Mr. Keller was lean, tall, and wiry — a man of considerable attainments beyond the limits of his business, capable (when his hot temper was not excited) of speaking sensibly and strongly on any subject in which he was interested. Mr. Engelman, short and fat, devoted to the office during the hours of business, had never read a book in his life, and had no aspiration beyond the limits ot his garden and his pipe. " In my leisure moments," he used to say, " give me my flowers, my pipe, and my peace of miud- and I ask no more." Widely as they differed in character the two partners had the truest regard for one another Mr. Engelman beheved Mr. Keller to be the most accom- plished and remarkable man in Germany. Mr. Keller was as firmly persuaded, on his side, that Mr. Engelman was an angel in sweetness of temper, and a model of modest and unassuming good sense. Mr. Engelman LU^^^^^-ued to Mr JEZEBEL'S DAUGHTER. 4d Keller's learned talk witli an ignorant admiration which knew no limit. Mr. Keller, detesting tobacco in all its forms and taking no sort of interest in horticulture, submitted to the fumes of Mr. Engelman's i)i])e, and passed hours in Mr. Engelman's garden without knowing the names of nine- tenths of the flowers that grew in it. There are still such men to be found in Germany and in England ; but, oh ! dear me, the older I get the fewer I find there are of them. The two old friends and partners were waiting for me to join them at their early German supper. Specimens of Mr. Engelman's flowers adorned the table in honour of my arrival. He presented me with a rose from the nosegay when I entered the room. " And how did you leave dear Mrs. Wagner?" he inquired. " And how is my boy Fritz ?" asked Mr. Keller. I answered in terms which satisfied them both, and the supper proceeded gaily. But when the table was cleared, and Mr. Engelman had lit his pipe, and I had kept him company with a cigar, then Mr. Keller put the fatal question* "And now tell me, David, do you come to us on business or do you come to us on pleasure ?" I had no alternative but to produce my instructions, and to announce the contemplated invasion of the ofrice by a select army of female clerks. The effect produced by the disclosure was highly characteristic of the widely different temperaments of the two partners. Mild Mr. Engelman laid down his pipe, and looked at Mr. Keller in helpless silence. Irritable Mr. Keller struck his fist on the table, and appealed to Mr. Engelman with fury in his looks. ** What did I tell you," he asked, " when we first heard that Mr. Wagner's widow was appointed head-partner in the busi- ness ? How many opinions of philosophers on the moral and physical incapacities of women did I quote ? Did I, or did I not, S so JEZEBELS DAUGHTER, bcgiu with the ancient Egyptians, and end with Doctor "Dernastrolcius, our neighbour in the next street?" Poor Mr. Engclman looked frightened. " Don't be angry, my dear friend," he said softly. "Angry?" repeated Mr. Keller, more furiously than ever. "My good Engelman, you never Avere more absurdly mis- taken in your life ! I am delighted. Exactly what I ex- pected, exactly what I predicted, has come to pass. Put down your pipe ! I can bear a great deal — but tobacco- smoke is beyond me at such a crisis as this. And do for once overcome your constitutional indolence. Consult your memory ; recall my own words v.-hen we were first informed that we had a woman for head-partner." " She was a very pretty woman Avhen I first saw her," Mr. Engelman remarked. " Pooh !" cried Mr. Keller. " I didn't mean to offend you," said Mr. Engelman. "Alloy/ me to present you with one of my roses as a peace- offering." " ^yill you be quiet, and let me speak ?'* *' My dear Keller, I am always too glad to hear you speak ! You put ideas into my poor head, and my poor head lets ^jhem out, and then you put them in again. What noble perseverance ! If I live a while longer I do really think you will make a clever man of me. Let me put the rose in your buttonhole for you. And I say, I wish you would allow mo to go on with my pipe." Mr. Keller made a gesture o£ resignation, and gave up his partner in despair. " I appeal to you, David," he said, and poured the full flow of his learning and his indignation into my unlucky ears. Mr. Engelman, enveloped in clouds of tobacco- smoke, enjoyed in silence the compOL'ing influence of his pipe. J saidj " Yes, sir," and " No, sir," at the right intervals in the JEZEBEL!^ DAVGIITER, 5l flow of I\Ir. Keller's eloquence. At this distance of time, I cannot i)retend to report the long harangue of which I was made the victim. In substance, Mr. Keller held that there were two irremediable vices in the composition of women. Their dispositions presented, morally speaking, a disastrous mixture of the imitativeness of a monkey and the restlessness of a child. Having proved this by copious references to the highest authorities, Mr. Keller logically claimed my aunt as a woman, and, as such, not only incapable of " letting well alone," but naturally disposed to imitate her husband on the most super- ficial and defective sides of his character. "I predicted, David, that the fatal disturbance of our steady old business was now only a question of time — and there, in Mrs. "Wagner's ridiculous instructions, is the fulfilment of my prophecy !" Before we went to bed that night, the partners anived at two resolutions. Mr. Keller resolved to address a written remonstrance to my aunt. Mr. Engelman resolved to shov/ mo his garden the first thing in the morning. CHAPTER X. On the afternoon of the next day, while my two good friends were still occupied by the duties of the ofllce, I stole out to pay my promised visit to Minna and Minna's mother. It was impossible not to arrive at the conclusion that they were indeed in sta'aitcnod circumstances. Their lodgings were in the cheap suburban quarter of Frankfort on the left bank of the river. Everything was scrupulously neat, and the poor furniture was arranged with taste — but no dexterity of management could disguise the squalid shabbiness of tho sitting-room into which I was shown. I could not help thinking how distressed Fritz would feel, if he could hav(? seen his charming Minna in a place so unvrorthy of hei as this. 52 JEZEDEDS DAO'GIITER, Tlie rickety door opened, and the " Jezebel" of the anony- mous letter (followed by her daughter) entered the rooto. There are certain remarkable women in all countries who, whatever sphere they may be seen in, fill that sphere as com- pletely as a great actor fills the stage. Widow Fontaine was one of these noteworthy persons. The wretched little room seemed to disappear when she Hoftly glided into it ; and even the pretty Minna herself receded into partial obscurity in her mother's presence. And yet there was nothing in the least obtrusive in the manner of Madame Fontaine, and nothing remarkable in her stature. Her figure, reaching to no more than the middle height, was the well-rounded figure of a woman approaching forty years of age. The influence she exercised was, in part, attributable, as I suppose, to the supple grace of all her movements ; in part, to the com- manding composure of her expression and the indescribable witchery of her manner. Her dark eyes, never fully opened in my remembrance, looked at me under heavy overhanging upper eyelids. Her enemies saw something sensual in their strange expression. To my mind it was rather something furtively cruel — except when she looked at her daughter. Sensuality shows itself most plainly in the excessive develop- ment of the lower part of the face. Madame Fontaine's lips were thin, and her chin was too small. Her profuse black hair was just beginning to be streaked with grey. Her com- [>lexion wanted colour. In spite of these drawbacks, she was still a striking, I might almost say a startling, creature, when you first looked at her. And, though she only wore the plainest widow's weeds, I don't scruple to assert that she was the most perfectly dressed woman I ever saw. jVIinna made a modest attempt to present me in due form. Her mother put her aside playfully, and held out both her iong white powerful hands to me as cordially as if we had kaowu each other for veara. JEZEBEL'S DAUGHTER. 59 " I wait to prove otlier people before I accept them for ray friends," she said. " Mr. David, you have been more than kind to my daughter — and you are my friend at our first meeting." I believe I repeat the words exactly. I wish I could give any adequate idea of the exquisite charm of her voice and manner which accompanied them. And yet, I was not at ray ease with her — I was not drawn to her irresistibly, as I had felt dra^vn to her daughter. Those dark, steady, heavy-lidded eyes of hers seemed to be look- ing straight into my heart, and surprising all my secrets. To say that I actually distrusted and disliked her would be far from the truth. Distrust and dislike would have protected rae, in sorae degree at least, from feeling her influence as I certainly did feel it. How that influence was exerted — whether it was through her eyes, or through her manner, or, to speak the jargon of these latter days, through some " magnetic emanation" from her, which invisibly overpowered rae — is more than I can possibly say. I can only report that she contrived by slow degrees to subject the action of ray will raore and more completely to the action of hers, until I found myself answering her most insidious questions arS unreservedly as if she had been in very truth my intimate and trusted friend. "And is this your first visit to Frankfort, Mr. David?" she began. . " Oh, no, madam ! I have been at Frankfort on two former occasions." "Ah, indeed? And have you always stayed with Mr, Keller?" " Always." She looked unaccountably interested when she heard that reply, brief as it was. " Then, of course, you are intimate with him," she said. 51 JEZEBilU^ DAUGHTER. *' Intimate enougli, perliaps, to ask a favour or to introduce a friend ?" I made a futile attempt to answer this cautiously. " As intimate, madam, as a young clerk in the business can hope to be with a partner," I said. " A clerk in the business ?" she repeated. *' I thought you Jived in London, with your aunt." Here Minna interposed for the first time. " You forget, mamma, that there are three names in the business. The inscription over the door in Main Street is Wagner, Keller, and Engelman. Fritz once told me that the ofHce here in Frankfort was only the small office — an 1 the grand business was Mr. Wagner's business in London. Amiright, Mr. David?" " Quite right, Miss Minna. But we have no such magni- ficent flower-garden at the London house as Mr. Engelman's flower-garden here. May I offer you a nosegay which he allowed me to gather ?'* I had hoped to make the flowers a means of turning the conversation to more interesting topics. But the widow re- sumed her questions, while Minna was admiring the flowers. " Then you are Mr. Wagner's clerk ?" she persisted. ** I was Mr. Wagner's clerk. Mr. Wagner is d-jad." *< Ha ! And who takes care of the great business now ?" Without well knowing why, I felt a certain reluctance to speak of my aunt and her affairs. But Widow Fontaine's eyes rested on me with a resolute expectation in them which I felt myself compelled to gratify. When she understood that Mr. Wagner's widow was now the chief authority in the business, her curiosity to hear everything that I could tell her about my aunt became all but insatiable. Minna's interest in the subject was, in quite another way, as vivid as her mother's. My aunt's house was the place to which cruel Mr. Keller had banished her lover. The inquiries of the JEZEBEL'S DAUGHTER. 5S motlier and ilaiigliter followed each otlicr in suoL rapid snc- cession that I cannot pretend to remember them now. Tha la.st question alone remains vividly impressed on my memory, in connection with the unexpected effect Avhich my answer produced. It y\'-as put by the widow in these words : " Your aunt is interested, of course, in the affairs of her partners in tliis place. Is it possible, Mr. David, that she may one day take the journey to Franlcfort ?" " It is quite likely, madam, that my aunt may be in Frank- fort on business before the end of the year." As I replied in those terms the widow looked round slowly at her daughter. Minna was evidently quite as much at a loss to understand the look as I was. Madame Fontaine turned to me again, and made an apology. "Pardon me, Mr. David, there is a little domestic duty that I had forgotten." She crossed the room to a small table, on which writing-materials v.^ere placed, wrote a few lines and handed the paper, without inclosing it, to Minna. " Give that, my love, to our good friend downstairs — and, while you are in the kitchen, suj^pose you make the tea. You will stay and drink tea with us, Mr. David ? It is our only luxury and we always make it ourselves.'* My first impulse was to find an excuse for declining the invitation. There was something in the air of mystery with which Madame Fontaine performed her domestic duties that was not at all to my taste. But Minna pleaded with me to say Yes. " Do stay with us a little longer," she said, in her innocently frank way, " we have so few pleasures in this place." I might, perhaps, have even resisted J.Iinna — but her mother literally laid hands on me. She seated herself, with the air of an empress, on a shabby little sofa in the corner of the room, and beckoning to mo to take my place by her side, laid her cool firm hand persuasively on mine. Her touch filled me with a strange sense of disturbance. ha,lf 56 JEZEBEDS DAUGHTER. ploasurable, half painful — I don't know how to describe it. Let me only record that I yielded, and that Minna left U3 together. " I want to tell you the whole truth," said Madame Fon- taine, as soon as we were alone ; " and I can only do so in the absence of my daughter. You must have seen for yourself that we are very poor ?" Her hand pressed mine gently. I answered as delicately as I could — I said I was sorry, but not surprised, to hear it. " When you kindly helped Minna to get that letter yester- day," she went on, " you were the innocent means of inflict- ing a disappointment on me — one disappointment more, after others that had gone before it. I came here to place my case before some wealthy relatives of mine in this city. They refused to assist me. I wrote next to other members of my family, living in Brussels. The letter of yesterday contained their answer. Another refusal ! The landlady of this house is an afllicted creature, with every claim on my sympathies ; she, too, is struggling with poverty. If I failed to pay her, it would be too cruel. Only yesterday I felt it my hard duty to give her notice of our departure in a week more. I have just written to recall that notice. The reason is, that I see a gleam of hope in the future — and you, Mr. David, are the friend who has shown it to me." I was more than surprised at this. " May I ask howP* 1 said. She patted my hand with a playfal assumption of petulance. " A little more patience," she rejoined ; '* and you shall soon hear. If I had only myself to think of, I should not feel the anxieties that now trouble me. I could take a house- keeper's x^lace to-morrow. Yes ! I was brought up am.ong surroundings of luxury and refinement ; I descended in rank when I married — but for all that, I could fill a domestic employment without repining at my lot, without losing my JEZEBEVS DAUGHTER. R| self-respect. Adversity is a hard teacher of soand Icssoiis, David. May I call you David? And if you heard of a housekeeper's place vacant, would you tell me of it ?" I could hardly understand whether she was in jest or in earnest. She went on without waiting for me to reply. " But I have my daughter to think of," she resumed, " and to add to my anxieties my daughter has given her heart to Mr. Keller's son. While I and my dear Minna had only our own interests to consider, we might have earned our daily bread together ; we might have faced the future with courage. Bat Vv hat might once have been the calm course of our lives is now troubled by a third person — a rival with me in my daughter's love — and, worse still, a man who is forbidden to marry her. Is is wonderful that I feel baffled, disheartened, helpless ? Oh, I am not exaggerating ! I know my child's nature. She is too delicate, too exquisitely sensitive, for the rough world she lives in. When she loves, she loves with all her heart and soul. Day by day I have seen her pining and fading under her separation from Fritz. You have revived her hopes for the moment — ^but the prospect before her remains unaltered. If she loses Fritz she will die of a broken heart. Oh, God ! the one creature I love — and how I am to help her and save her I don't know !'* For the first time, I heard the fervour of true feeling in her voice. She turned aside from me, and hid her face with a wild gesture of despair that was really terrible to see. I tried, honestly tried, to comfort her. " Of one thing at least you may be sure," I said. *' Fritz's whole heart i-s given to your daughter. He will be true to her, and worthy of her, through all trials." "I don't doubt it," she answered sadly, "I have nothing to say against my girl's choice. Fritz is good, and Fritz is true, as you say. But you forget his father. Personally, mind, I despise Mr. Keller." She looked round at me with 58 JKZEBEL'S DA UGHTER. unutterable contempt flasliing tlirougli the tears tliat ?i\\q\ licr eyes. " A man wlio listens to every lie that scandal can utter against the character of a helpless woman— who gives her no opportunity of defending herself (I have written to him, and received no answer) — who declares that his son shall never marry my daughter (because we are poor, of course) ; and who uses attacks on my reputation which he has never verified, as the excuse for his brutal conduct — can anybody respect such a man as that? And yet on this despicable creature my child's happiness and my child's life depend ! For her sake, no matter what my own feeling may be, I must stoop to defend myself. I must make my oppor- tunity of combating his cowardly prejudice, and winning his good opinion in spite of himself. Kow am I to get a hearing ? how am I to approach him ? I understand that you are not in a position to help me. But you have done wonders for me nevertheless, and God bless you for it !" She lifted my hand to her lips. I foresaw what was coming ; I tried to speak. But she gave me no opportunity ; her eloquent enthusiasm rushed into a new flow of wordi " Yes, my best of friends, my wisest of advisers," she went on; "you have suggested the irresistible interference of a person whose authority is supreme. Your excellent aunt is the head of the business; Mr. Keller mast listen to his charming chief. There is my gleam of hope. On that chance, I will sell the last few valuables I possess, and wait till Mrs. Wagner arrives at Frankfort. You start, David ! What Ij there to alarm you ? Do you suppose me capable of pre- suming on your aunt's kindness — of begging for favours which it may not be perfectly easy for her to grant ? Mrs. Y\^agner knows already from Fritz what our situation is. Let her only see my Minna ; I won't intrude on her myself. My daughter shall plead for me ; my daughter shall ask for all I want — an interview with Mr. Keller, and permission to JEZEBEL'S DA UCnTER. 50 Bpcak in ruy own defence. Tell mo, honestly, am I expecting' too mneli, if I hope that jour aunt Avill persuado Fritz's father to sec m(3 ?" It sounded modestly enough in words. But I had my own doubts, nevertheless. I had left INEr. Keller working hard at his protest against the employment of women in the oiTice, to be sent to my aunt by that day's post. Knowing them both as I did, I thought it at least probable that a w^ritten controversy might be suc- ceeded by a personal estrangement. If Mr. Keller proved obstinate, Mrs. Wagner w^ould soon show him that she had a will of her own. Under those circumstances, no favours could be asked, no favours could bo granted — and poor ]\Iinna's prospects would be darker than ever. This was one view of the caso. I must own, however, that another impression had been provluced on mo. So;nethingin l^.Iadame Fontaine's manner saggested that she might not bo quite so modest in her demands on my aunt, when they met at Franlcfort, as she had led me to believe. I was vexed with myself for having spoken too unresorvoLlly, and was quite at a loss to decide what I ought to say in answer to the appeal that had been made to me. In this state of perplexity I was relieved by a welcome interruption. Minna's voice reaclicd us from the landing outside. " I have both hands engaged," she said ; " please let me in." I ran to the door. The widow laid her finger on my lips. *' Not a word, mind, to Minna !" she whispered. " We under- stand each other — don't we ?" I said, " Yes, certainly." And so the subject was dropped for the rest of the evening. The charming girl came in carrying the tea-tray. She especially directed my attention to a cake which she had Diade that day with her own hands. " I can cook," she said^ ^* and I can make my own dresses — and if Fritz is a poor man 60 JEZEBEL'S DAUGHTER, wLen he marries me, I can save him the expense of a servant.** Our talk at the tea-table was, I dare say, too trifling to bo recorded. I only remember that I enjoyed it. Later in the evening, Minna sang to me. I heard one of those simple German ballads again, not long since, and the music brought the tears into my eyes. The moon rose early that night. When I looked at my watch, I found that it was time to go. Minna was at the window, admiring the moonlight. " On such a beautiful night," she said, '-it seems a shame to stay indoors. Do let us walk a part of the way back with Mr. David, mamma! Only as far as the bridge, to see the moon on the river." Her mother consented, and we three left the house together. Arrived at the bridge, we paused to look at the view. But the clouds were rising already, and the moonlight only showed itself at intervals. Madame Fontaine said she smelt rain in the air, and took her daughter's arm to go home. I offered to return with them as far as their own door ; but they posi- tively declined to delay me on my way back. It was arranged that I should call on them again in a day or two. Just as we were saying good-night, the fitful moonlight streamed out brightly again through a rift in the clouds. At the same moment a stout old gentleman, smoking a pipe, sauntered past us on the pavement, noticed me as he went by, stopped directly, and revealed himself as Mr. Engelman. *' Good-night, Mr. David," said the widow. The moon shono full on her as she gave me her hand ; Minna standing behind her in the shadow. In a moment more the two ladies had left us. Mr. Engelman's eyes followed the smoothly gliding figure of the widow, until it was lost to view at the end of thi bridge. He laid his hand eagerly on my arm. " David l** he said, " who is that glorious creature ?'* JEZEBEL* S DAUonTEtl. 61 " Whicli of the two ladies do you mean ?" I asked, mis- cliievously. " The one with the widow's cap, of course I" " Do YOU admire the widow, sir ?" "Almire her!" repeated Mr. Eng:elman. "Look here, David !" He showed me the long porcelain bowl of his pipe. " My dear boy, she has done what no woman ever did with me yet — she has put my pipe out !" CHAPTER XI. There was something so absurd in the association of Madame Fontaine's charms with the extinction of Mr. Engel- man's pipe, that I burst out laughing. My good old friend looked at me in grave surprise. " What is there to laugh at in my forgetting to keep my pipe alight?" he asked. "My whole mind, David, was absorbed in that magnificent woman the instant I set eyes on her. The imacre of her is before mo at this moment — an image of an angel in moonlight. Am I speaking poetically for the first time in my life ? I shouldn't wonder. I really don't know what is the matter with me. You are a young man, and perhaps you can tell. Have I fallen in love, as the eaying is ?" He took me confidentially by the arm, before I fould answer this formidable question. " Don't tell friend Koller 1" he said, with a sudden outburst of alarm. " Keller is an excellent man, but he has no mercy on sinners. I say, David! couldn't you introduce me to her?" Still haunted by the fear that I had spoken too un- reservedly during my interview with the widow, I was in the right humour to exhibit extraordinary prudence in my intercourse with Mr. Engelman. "I couldn't venture to introduce you," I said; " the Lady is liviu<' here in the strictest retirement." 62 JEZEBEL'S DAUGHTER. "At any rate, you can tell me lier name," pleadccl Mr. Engelman. "I dare say you have mentioned it to Keller?" " I have done nothing of tlie sort. I have reasons for saying nothing about the lady to Mr. Keller." ** Well, you can trust me to keep the secret, David. Come ! I only want to send her some flowers from my garden. She can't object to that. Tell me where I am to send my nosegay, that's a dear fellow." I dare say I did wrong — indeec], judging by later events, I know I did wrong. But I could not view the affair seriously enough to hold out against Mr. Engelman in the matter of the nosegay. He started when I mentioned the widow's name. " Kot the mother of the girl whom Fritz wants to marry ?'* he exclaimed. " Yes, the same. Don't you admire Fritz's taste ? Isn't Miss Minna a charming girl ?" *' I can't say, David. I was bewitched — I had no eyes for anybody but her mother. Do you think Madame Fontaine noticed me ?" " Oh, yes. I saw her look at you." " Turn this way, David. The effect of the moonlight on you seems to make you look younger. Has it the same effect on me? How old should you guess me to be to-night? Fifty or sixty ?" " Somewhere between the two, sir." (He was close on seventy. But who could have been cruel enough to say so, at that moment ?) My answer proved to be so encouraging to the old gentle- man that he ventured on the subject of Madame Fontaine's Lite husband. " Vv^as she very fond of him, David ? What sort of man was he ?" I informed him that I had never even seen Dr. Fontaine ; JEZEBEL'S DAUGHTER. r3 a,nd thon, l>y way of cliaiiging tlio topic, inquired if I was too lato for the regular supper-liour at Main Street. " My dear boy, tlio table was cleared half an hour ago. But I persuaded our sour-tempered old liousekeeper to keep something hot for you. You won't find Keller very amiablo to-night, David. He was upset, to begin with, by writing that remonstrance to your aunt — and then your absence annoyed him. 'This is treating our house like an hotel ; I won't allow anybody to take such liberties with us.' Yes ! that was really what he said of you. He was so croas^ poor fellow, that I left him, a-nd went out for a stroll on the bridge. And met my fate," added poor Mr. Engelman, in the saddest tones I had ever heard fall from his lips. My reception at the house was a little chilly. "I have written my mind plainly to your aunt," said Mr. Keller; "you will probably be recalled to London by return of post. In the meantime, on the next occasion when you spend the evening out, be so obliging as to leave word to that effect with one of the servants." Tlie crabbed old house- keeper (known in the domestic circle as Mother Barbara) had her fling at me next. She set down the dish which she had kept hot for me, with a bang that tried the resisting capacity of the porcelain severely. " I've done it this once," she said. " Next time you're late, you and the dog can sup together." The next day, I v/rote to my aunt, and also to Fritz, knowing how anxious he must be to hear from me. To tell him the whole truth would probably have been to bring him to Frankfort as fast as sailing-vessels and horses could carry him. All I could venture to say was, that I had found the lost trace of Minna and her mother, and tliat I Had every reason to believe there was no cause to feel any present anxiety about them. I added that I might bo in a 64 JEZEBELS DAUGHTER. position to forward a letter secretly, if it would comfort bim to write to his sweetheart. In making this offer, I was, no doubt, encouraging my friend to disobey the plain commands which his father had laid on him. But, as the case stood, I had really no other alternative. With Fritz's temperament, it would have been simply impossible to induce him to remain in London, unless his patience was sustained in my absence by a practical conces- sion of some kind. In the interests of peace, then — and I must own in the interests of the pretty and interesting Minna fts well — I consented to become a medium for correspondence, on the purely Jesuitical principle that the end justified the means. I had promised to lot Minna know of it when I wrote to Fritz. My time being entirely at my own disposal, until the vexed question of the employment of women was settled between Mr, Keller and my aunt, I went to the widow's lodgings, after putting my letters in the post. Having made Minna happy in the anticipation of hearing from Fritz, I had leisure to notice an old china punch-bowl on the table, filled to overflowing with magnificent flowers. To any one Avho knew Mr. Engelman as well as I did, the punch-bowl suggested serious considerations. He, who forbade the plucking of a single flower on ordinary occasions, must, with his own hands, have seriously damaged the appearance of his beautiful garden. " What splendid flowers !" I said, feeling my way cautiously. *' Mr. Engelman himself might be envious of such a nosegay as that." The widow's heavy eyelids drooped lower for a moment, in unconcealed contempt for my simplicity. "Do you really think you can mystify mei"' she asked ironically. " Mr. Engelman has done more than send the flowers — he has written me a too-flattering note. And I," JEZEBEL'S DAUGHTER. «S ate said, glancing carelessly at the mantelpiece, on which a letter was placed, " have written the necessary acknowledg- ment. It would be absurd to stand on ceremony with the harmless old gentleman who met us on the bridge. How fat he is ! and what a wonderful pipe he carries — almost as fat as himself!" Alas for Mr. Engelman ! I could not resist saying a word in his favour — she spoke of him with such cruelly sincere ^ntempt. "Though he only saw you for a moincnt," I said, "he is your ardent admirer already." "Is he indeed?" She was so utterly indifferent to Mr. Engelman's admiration that she could hardly take the trouble to make that commonplace reply. The next moment she dismissed the subject. " So you have written to Fritz V* she went on. " Have you also written to your aunt ?" "Yes, by the same post." "Mainly on business, no doubt? Is it indiscreet to ask if you slipped in a little word about the hopes that I associate with Mrs. Wagner's arrival in Frankfort ?" This seemed to give me a good opportunity of moderating her " hopes," in mercy to her daughter and to herself. " I thought it undesirable to mention the subject — for the present, at least," I answered. " There is a serious difLereneo of opinion between Mrs. Wagner and Mr. Keller, on a sub- ject connected with the management of the ofiiee here. I say serious, because they are both equally firm in maintain- ing their convictions. Mr. Keller has written to my aunt by yesterday's post ; and I fear it may end in an augry cor- respondence between them." I saw that I had startled her. She suddenly drew her chair close to mine. " Do you think the correspondence will delay your aunt's departure from England ?" she asked. 66 JEZEBEDS DAUGHTER, " On tlie contrary. My aunt is a very resolute person, and it may hasten lier departure. But I am afraid it will indis- pose her to ask any favours of Mr. Keller, or to associate herself with his personal concerns. Any friendly intercourse between them will indeed be impossible, if she asserts her authority as head-partner, and forces him to submit to a woman in a matter of business." She sanli back in her chair. " I understand," she said faintly. While we had been talking, Minna had walked to the window, and had remained there looking out. She suddenly turned round as her mother spoke. "Mamma! the landlady's little boy has just gone out. Shall I tap at the window and call him back ?" The widow roused herself with an effort. " What for, my love ?" she asked absently. Minna pointed to the mantelpiece. " To take your letter to Mr. Engelman, mamma." Madame Fontaine looked at the letter — paused for a moment — and answered, " No, my dear; let the boy go. It doesn't matter for the pre- sent." She turned to me with an abrupt recovery of her customary manner. " I am, fortunately for myself, a sanguine jjerson," she resumed. " I always did hope for the best ; and (feeling the kind motive of what you have said to me) I shall hope for the best still. Minna, my darling, Mr. David and I have been talking on dry subjects until we are tired. Give us a little music." While her daughter obediently opened the piano, she looked at the flowers. " You are fond of flowers, David ?" she went on. "Do you understand the subject? I igno- rantly admire the lovely colours, and enjoy the delicious scents — and I can do no more. It was really very kind of your old friend Mr. Engelman. Does he take any part in JEZEBEL'S DAUGHIER C7 tliis deplorable difference of opinion between your aunt and Kr. Keller?" What did that new allusion to Mr. En^celman mean? And why had she declined to despatch her letter to him, when the opportunity offered of sending it by the boy ? Troubled by the doubts which these considerations sug- gested, I committed an act of imprudence — I replied so reservedly that I put her on her guard. All I said was that I supposed Mr. Engelman agreed with Mr. Keller, but that I wai not in the confidence of the two partners. From that moment she saw through me, and was sileut on the subject of Mr. Engelman. Even Minna's singing had lost its charm, in my present frame of mind. It was a relief to me when I could make my excuses, and leave the house. On my way back to Main Street, when I could think freely, my doubts began to develop into downright suspicion, Madame Fontaine could hardly hope, after what I had told her, to obtain the all-important interview with Mr. Keller, through my aunt's intercession. Had she seen her way to trying what Mr. Engelman' s influence with his partner could do for her ? Would she destroy her formal acknowledgment of the receipt of his flowers, as soon as my back was turned, and send him a second lett-ei, encx)uraging him to visit her? And would she cast him off, without ceremony, when he had served her purpose ? These were the thoughts that troubled me on my return to the house. When we met at supper, some hours later, my worst anticipations were realised. Poor innocent Mr. Engel- man was dressed with extraordinary smartness, and was in the highest good spirits. Mr. Keller asked him jestingly if he was going to be married. In the intoxication of happi- ness that possessed him, he was quite reckless ; he actually retorted by a joke on the sore subject of the employment of women ! " Who knows what may happen," he cried gaily, 6S JEZEBEL'S DAUGHTER. " when we have young ladies in the office for clerks ?'* Mr, Keller was so angry that he kept silence through the whole of our meal. When Mr. Engelman left the room I slipped out after him. " You are going to Madame Fontaine's," I said. He smirked and smiled. " Just a little evening visit, David. Aha! you young men are not to have it all your own way." He laid his hand tenderly on the left breast- pocket of his coat. " Such a delightful letter !'* he said. " It is here, over my heart. No — a woman's sentiments are sacred ; I mustn't show it to you." I was on the point of telling him the whole truth, when the thought of Minna checked me for the time. My interest in preserving Mr. Engelman's tranquillity was in direct con- flict with my interest in the speedy marriage of my good friend Fritz. Besides, was it likely that anything I could say would have the slightest effect on the deluded old man, in the first fervour of his infatuation ? I thought I would give him a general caution, and wait to be guided by events. " One word, sir, for your private ear," I said. " Even the finest women have their faults. You will find Madame Fontaine perfectly charming • v>ut don't be too ready to believe that she is in earnest." Mr. Engelman felt infinitely flattered, and owned it with- out the slightest reserve. " Oh, David ! David !" he said, " are you jealous of me already ?" He put on his hat (with a jaunty twist on one side), and swung his stick gaily, and left the room. For the first time, in my experience of him, he went out without his pipe ; and (a more serious symptom still) he really did not appear to miss it. JEZEBEDS DAVGRTER, 00 CHAPTER XII. Two days passed, and I perceived anotlier change in !Mr. Eiigelman. He was now transformed into a serious and reticent man. Had lie committed indiscretions which might expose him to ridicule if they were known ? Or had the widow warned him not to be too ready to take me into his confidence ? In any case, he said not one word to me about Madame Fontaine's reception of him, and he left the house secretly when he paid his next visit to her. Having no wish to meet him unex- pectedly, and feeling (if the truth must be told) not quite at ease about the future, I kept away from Minna and her mother, and waited for events. On the third day, an event happened. I received a little note from Minna : — ■ " Dear Mr. David, — If you care to see mamma and me, stay at home this evening. Good Mr. Engelman has pro- mised to show us his interesting old house, after business hours.'* There was nothing extraordinary in making an exhibition of " the old house." It was one among the many picturesque specimens of the domestic architecture of bygone days, for which Frankfort is famous; and it had been sketched by artists of all nations, both outside and in. At the same time it was noticeable (perhaps only as a coincidence) that the evening chosen for showing the house to the widow, was also the evening on which Mr. Keller had an engagement with some friends in another part of the city. As the hour approached for the arrival of the ladies, I saw that ^Mr. Engelman looked at me with an air of embar- rassment. 70 JEZEBEL'S DAUGHTER. •^Are you not going out this evening, David?" he asked. " Am I in the way, sir ?" I inquired mischievously. " Oh, no !" ** In that case then, I think I shall stay at home/' He said no more, and walked up and down the room with an air of annoyance. The bell of the street-door rang. He stopped, and looked at me again. *' Visitors ?" I said. He was obliged to answer me. " Friends of mine, David, who are coming to see the house." I was just sufficiently irritated by his persistence in keeping up the mystery to set him the example of speaking plainly. " Madame Fontaine and her daughter ?" I said. He turned quickly to answer me, and hesitated. At the same moment, the door was opened by the sour old house- keeper, frowning suspiciously at the two elegantly-dressed ladies whom she ushered into the room. If I had been free to act on my own impulse, I should certainly (out of regard for Mr. Engelman) have refrained from accompanying the visitors when they were shown over the house. But Minna took my arm. I had no choice but to follow Mr. Engelman and her mother when they left the room. Minna spoke to me as confidentially as if I had been her brother. " Do you know," she whispered, " that nice old gentleman and mamma are like old friends already. Mamma is gene- rally suspicious of strangers. Isn't it odd ? And she actually invites him to bring his pipe when he comes to see us ! He sits puffing smoke, and admiring mamma — and mamma does all the talking. Do come and see us soon ! I have nobody to speak to about Fritz. Mamma and Mr. Engelman take no more notice of me than if I was a little dog in the room." As we passed from the ground floor to the first floor, Madame Fontaine's admiration of the house rose from one JEZEBEL'S DAUGHTER. 71 climax of entliiisiasm to another. Among tlie many subjects that she understood, the domestic architecture of the seven- teenth century seemed to be one, and the art of water-colour painting soon proved to be another. "I am not quite contemptible as a lady-artist," I heard her say to Mr. Engelman ; " and I should so like to make some little studies of these beautiful old rooms — as memorials to take with me when I am far away from Frankfort. But I don't ask it, dear Mr. Engelman. You don't want enthu- siastic ladies with sketch-books in this bachelor paradise of yours. I hope we are not intruding on Mr. Keller. Is ho at home ?" " No," said Mr. Engelman ; " he has gone out.'* Madame Fontaine's flow of eloquence suddenly ran dry. She was silent as we ascended from the first floor to the second. In this part of the house our bedrooms were situated. The chamber in which I slept presented nothing particularly worthy of notice. But the rooms occupied by Mr. Keller and Mr. Engelman contained some of the finest carved woodwork in the house. It was beginning to get dark. Mr. Engelman lit the candles in his own room. The widow took one of them from him, and threw the light skilfully on the different objects about her. She was still a little subdued ; but she showed her knowledge of wood-carving by picking out the two finest specimens in the room — a wardrobe and a toilet-table. " My poor husband was fond of old carving," she explained modestly ; " what I know about it, I know from him. Dear Mr. Engelman, your room is a picture in itself. What glorious colours ! How simple and how grand ! Might we " she paused, with a becoming appearance of confusion. Her voice dropped softly to lower tones. " Might we be pardoned, do you think, if we ventured to peep into Mr. Keller's room?" She spoke of " Mr. Keller's room" as if it had been a 71 JEZEBEL'S DAUGHTER. Blirine, approachable only by a few favoured worshippers. '* Where is it ?" she inquired, with breathless interest. I led the way out into the passage, and threw open the door without ceremony. Madame Fontaine looked at me as if I had com- mitted an act of sacrilege. Mr. Engclman, following us with one of his candles, lit an ancient brass lamp which hung from the middle of the ceil- ing, "My learned partner," he explained, "does a great deal of his reading in his bedroom, and he likes plenty of light. You will have a good view when the lamp has burnt up. The big chimney-piece is considered the finest thing of that sort in Frankfort." The widow confronted the chimney-piece, and clasped her hands in silent rapture. AVhen she was able to speak, she put her arm round Minna's waist. " Let me teach you, my love, to admire this glorious work," she said, and delivered quite a little lecture on the merits of the chimney-piece. " Oh, if I could but take the merest sketch of it !" she exclaimed, by way of conclusion. " Eut no, it is too much to ask." She examined everything in the room with the minutest attention. Even the plain little table by the bedside, with a jug and a glass on it, did not escape her observation. " Is that his drink ?" she asked, with an air of respectful curiosity. " Do you think I might taste it ?" j\[r. Engelman laughed. " It*s only barley-water, dear lady," he said. " Our rheumatic old housekeeper makes as few journeys as possible up and down stairs. AVhen she sets the room in order in the evening, she takes the night-drink up with her, and so saves a second journey.** " Taste it, Minna," said the widow, handing the glass to her daughter. " How refreshing ! how pure !" Mr. Engelman, standing on the other side of her, whis- pered in her ear. I was just behind them, and could not JEZEBEL'S DAUGHTER. 73 help hearing him. " You will make me jealous," he said ; " you never noticed tny night-drink — I have beer." The widow answered him by a look ; he heaved a little eigh of happiness. Poor Mr. Engelman ! Minna innocently broke in on this mute scene of sentiment. She was looking at the pictures in the room, and asked for explanations of them which Mr. Engelmau only could afford. It struck me as odd that her mother's artistic sympathies did not appear to be excited by the pictures. Instead of joining her daughter at the other end of the room, she stood by the bedside with her hand resting on the little table, and her eyes fixed on the jug of barley-water, absorbed in thought. On a sudden, she started, turned quickly, and caught me ob- serving her. I might have been deceived by the lamplight; but I thought I saw a flash of expression under her heavy eyelids, charged with such intensity of angry suspicion that it startled me. She was herself again, before I could decide whether to trust my own strong impression or not. "Do I surprise you, David?" she asked in her gentlest tones. " I ought to be looking at the pictures, you think ? My friend ! I can't always control my own sad recollections. They will force themselves on me — sometimes when the most trifling associations call them up. Dear Mr. Engelman un- derstands me. He, no doubt, has suffered too. May I fit down for a moment ?" She dropped languidly into a chair, and sat looking at the famous chimney-piece. Her attitude was the perfection of grace. Mr. Engelman hurried through his explanation of the pictures, and placed himself at her side, and admired the chimney-piece with her. " Artists think it looks best by lamplight," he said. " The big pediment between the windows keeps out the light in the daytime." Madame Fontaine looked round at him with a softly ap- 74> JEZEBEVS DAUGIUEn. proving SDiile. " Exactly what I was thinking myself, when you spoke," she said. " The effect by this light is simply perfect. Why didn't I bring my sketch-book with me ? I might have stolen some little memorial of it, in Mr. Keller's absence." She turned towards me when she said that. " If you can do without colours," I suggested, " we have paper and pencils in the house." The clock in the corridor struck the hour. Mr. Engelman looked uneasy, and got up from his chair. His action suggested that the time had passed by us unper- ceived, and that Mr. Keller's return might take place at any moment. The same impression was evidently produced on Minna. For once in her life, the widow's quick perception seemed to have desei-ted her. She kept her seat as com* posedly as if she had been at home. " I wonder whether I could manage without my colours ?'* she said placidly. " Perhaps I might try." Mr. Engelman's uneasiness increased to downright alarm. Minna perceived the change, as I did, and at once inter- fered. " I am afraid, mamma, it is too late for sketching to-night," she said. *' Suppose Mr. Keller should come back ?" Madame Fontaine rose instantly, with a look of confusion. " How very stupid of me not to think of it !" she exclaimed. *' Forgive me, Mr. Engelman — I vas so interested, so ab- sorbed — thank you a thousand times for your kindness!" She led the way out, with more apologies and more gratitude. Mr. Engelman recovered his tranquillity. He looked at her lovingly, and gave her his arm to lead her down-stairs. On this occasion, Minna and I were in front. We reached the first landing, and waited there. The widow was wonder- fully slow in descending the stairs. Judging by what we heard, she was absorbed in the old balusters now. Whe» she at last joined us on the landing, the doors of the rooms JEZEBEVS DAUGHTER. 75 on the first floor delayed her again : it was simply impos- sible, she said, to pass tliem without notice. Once more, Minna and I waited on the ground floor. Here, there was another ancient brass lamp which lighted the hall; and, therefore, another object of beauty which it was impossible to pass over in a hurry. "I never knew mamma behave so oddly before," said Minna. " If such a thing wasn't impossible, in our situation, one would really think she wanted Mr. Keller to catch us in the house !" There was not the least doubt in my mind (knowing asi I did, how deeply Madame Fontaine was interested in forcing her acquaintance on Mr. Kellei') that this was exactly what she did want. Fortune is proverbially said to favour the bold ; and Fortune offered to the widow the perilous oppor- tunity of which she had been in search. While she was still admiring the lamp, the grating sound became audible of a key put into the street door. The door opened, and Mr. Keller walked into the hall. He stopped instantly at the sight of two ladies who were both strangers to him, and looked interrogatively at his partner. Mr. Engclraan had no choice but to risk an expla- nation of some kind. He explained, without mentioning names. "Friends of mine, Keller," he said confusedly, "to whom I have been showing the house." Mr. Keller took off his hat, and bowed to the widow. With a boldness that amazed me, under the circumstances, she made a low curtsey to him, smiled her sweetest smile, and deliberately mentioned her name. " I am Madame Fontaine, sir," she said. "And this is my daughter, Minna." 76 JEZEBELS DAUGHTER, CHAPTEE XIII. Me. Keller fixed his eyes on tlie widow in stern silence; walked past iter to the inner end of the hall ; and entered a room at the back of the house, closing the door behind him. Even if he had felt inclined to look at Minna, it would not r have been possible for him to see her. After one timid glance at him, the poor girl hid herself behind me, trembling piteouslj. I took her hand to encourage her. " Oh, what hope is there for us," she whispered, " with such a man as that?" Madame Fontaine turned as Mr. Keller passed her, and watched his progress along the hall until he disappeared from view. " No," she said quietly to herself, " you don't escape me in that way." As if moved by a sudden impulse, she set forth on the way by which Mr. Keller had gone before her ; walking, as he had walked, to the door at the end of the hall. I had remained with Minna, and was not in a position to see how her mother looked. Mr. Engelman's face, as he stretched out his hands entreatingly to stop Madame Fon- taine, told me that the fierce passions hidden deep in the woman's nature had risen to the surface and shown them, selves. " Oh, dear lady ! dear lady !" cried the simple old man, " don't look like that ! It's only Keller's temper — he will soon be himself again." Without answering him, without looking at him, she lifted her hand, and put him back from her as if he had been a troublesome child. With her firm graceful step, she resumed her progress along the hall to the room at the end, and knocked sharply at the door. Mr. Keller's voice answered from within, " Who is there ?" " Madame Fontaine," said the widow. " I wish to speak to you." JEZEBEUS DAUGHTER, 7l '* I decline to receive Madame Fontaine." " In that case, Mr. Keller, I will do myself tlie honour 0/ writing to you." " I refuse to read your letter." "Take the night to think of it, Mr. Keller, and change your mind in the morning." She turned away, without waiting for a reply, and joined us at the outer end of the hall. Minna advanced to meet her, and kissed her tenderlv. ** Dear, kind mamma, you are doing this for my sake," said the grateful girl. " I am ashamed that you should hurablo yourself — it is so useless !" " It shall not be useless," her mother answered. " If fifty j\Ir. Kellers threatened your happiness, my child, I would brush the fifty out of your way. Oh, my darling, my darling !" Her voice — as firm as the voice of a man, while she declared her resolution — faltered and failed her when the last words of endearment fell from her lips. She drew Minna to her bosom, and embraced in silent rapture the one creature whom she loved. When she raised her head again she was, to my mind, more beautiful than I had ever yet seen her. The all- ennobling tears of love and grief filled her eyes. Knowing the terrible story that is still to be told, let me do that miserable woman justice. Hers was not a wholly corrupted heart. It was always in Minna's power to lift her above her own wickedness. When she held out the hand that had just touched her daughter to Mr. Engelman, it trembled as if she had been the most timid woman living. " Good night, dear friend," she said to him ; " I am sorry to have been the innocent cause of this little embarrassment." Simple Mr. Engelman put his handkerchief to his eyes ; never, in all his life, had he been so puzzled, so frightened, and 80 distressed. He kissed the widow's hand. " Do let 78 JEZEBEL'S DAUGHTER. me see you safe liome !" lie said, in tones of tlie tenderest entreaty. "Not to-niglit," slie answered. He attempted a faint remonstrance. Madame Fontaine knew perfectly well liow to assert her authority over him — she gave him another of those tender looks which had already become the charm of his life. Mr. Engelman sat down on one of the hall chairs completely overwhelmed. " Dear and admirable woman !" I heard him say to himself softly. Taking leave of me in my turn, the widow dropped my hand, struck, to all appearance, by a new idea. *' I have a favour to ask of you, David," she said. "Do you mind going back with us ?" As a matter of course I took my hat, and placed myself at her service. Mr. Engelman got on his feet, and lifted his plump hands in mute and melancholy protest. " Don't be uneasy," Madame Fontaine said to him, v/ith a faint smile of contempt. " David doesn't love me !" I paused for a moment, as I followed her out, to console Mr. Engelman. " She is old enough to be my mother, sir," I whispered ; " and this time, at any rate, she has told you the truth." Hardly a word passed between us on our way through the streets and over the bridge. Minna was sad and silent, thinking of Fritz ; and whatever her mother might have to say to me, was evidently to be said in private. Arrived at the lodgings, Madame Fontaine requested me to wait for her in the shabby little sitting-room, and graciously gave me permission to smoke. " Say good night to David," she con- tinued, turning to her daughter. " Your poor little heart is heavy to-night, and mamma means to put you to bed as if you were a child again. Ah ! me, if those days could only eome back !" After a short absence the widow returned to me, with a JEZEBEL'S DAUGHTER. 79 composed manner and a quiet smile. The meeting with Mr. Keller seemed to Lave been completel}^ dismissed from her thoughts, in the brief interval since I had seen licr last. " We often hear of parents improving their children," she said. "It is my belief that the children quite as often improve the parents. I have had some happy minutes with Minna— and (would you believe it ?) I am already dispos xl to forgive Mr. Keller's brutality, and to write to him in a tone of moderation, which must surely have its effect. All Minna'a doing — and my sweet girl doesn't in the least suspect it herself ! If you ever have children of your own, David, you will understand me and feel for me. In the meantime, I must not detain you by idle talk — I must say plainly what I want of you." She opened her writing-desk and took up a pen. " If I write to Mr. Keller under your own eye, do you object to take charge of my letter ?" I hesitated how to answer. To say the least of it, her request embarrassed me. " I don't expect you to give it to Mr. Keller personally," she explained. "It is of very serious importance to me" (she laid a marked emphasis on those words) " to be quite sure that my letter has reached him, and that he has really had the oj^portunity of reading it. If you will only place it on his desk in the office, with your own hand, that is all I ask you to do. For Minna's sake, mind; not for mine !" For Minna's sake, I consented. She rose directly, and signed to me to take her place at the desk. " It will save time," she said, " if you write the rough draft of the letter from my dictation. I am accustomed to dictate my letters, with Minna for secretary. Of course, you shall see the fair copy before I seal it." She began to walk up and down the little room, with hef hands crossed behind her in the attitude made famous by the 80 JEZEBEL'S DAUGHTER, great Napoleon. After a minute of consideration, she dictated the draft as follows : a gij.^ — I am well aware that scandalous reports at Wilrz- burg have prejudiced you against me. Those reports, so far as I know, may be summed up under three heads. " (First.) That my husband died in debt through my extravagance. *' (Second.) That my respectable neighbours refuse to associate with me. " (Third.) That I entrapped your son Fritz into asking for my daughter's hand in marriage, because I knew his father to be a rich man. " To the first calumny I reply, that the debts are due to expensive chemical experiments in which my late husband engaged, and that I have satisfied the creditors to the last farthing. Grant me an audience, and I will refer you to the creditors themselves. " To the second calumny I reply, that I received invitations, on my arrival in Wiirzburg after my marriage, from every lady of distinguished social position in the town. After experience of the society thus offered to me, I own to having courteously declined subsequent invitations, and having devoted myself in retirement to my husband, to my infant child, and to such studies in literature and art as I had time to pursue. Gossip and scandal, with an eternal accompani- ment of knitting, are not to my taste ; and, while I strictly attend to domestic duties, I do not consider them as consti- tuting, in connection with tea-drinking, the one great interest of a woman's life. I plead guilty to having been foolish enough to openly acknowledge these sentiments, and to having made bitter enemies everywhere as the necessary consequence. If this plain defence of myself fails to satisfy you, grant me an audience, and I will answer your questions, whatever they may be. JEZEBEVS DA VGUTER. 81 " To the tliird calumny, I reply, that if you had been a Prince instead of a merchant, I would still have done every- thing in my power to keep your son away from my daughter— for this simple reason, that the idea of parting with her to any man fills me with grief and dismay. I only yielded to the marriaire enj]raprement, when the conviction was forced upon me that my poor child's happiness depended on hei anion with your son. It is this consideration alone which induces me to write to you, and to humiliate myself by plead- ing for a hearing. As for the question of money, if through some unexpected misfortune you became a bankrupt to- morrow, I would entreat you to consent to the marriage exactly as I entreat you now. Poverty has no terrors for me while I have health to work. But I cannot face the idea o/ my child's life being blighted, because you choose to believe the slanders that are spoken of her mother. For the third time I ask you to grant me an audience, and to hear me in my own defence." There she paused, and looked over my shoulder. " I think that is enough," she said. " Do you see tiny- thing objectionable in my letter ?" How could I object to the letter? From beginning to end, it was strongly, and yet moderately, expressed. I resigned my place at the desk, and the widow wrote the fair copy, with her own hand. She made no change whatever, except by adding these ominous lines as a postscript : " I implore you not to drive me to despair. A mother who is pleading for her child's life — it is nothing less, in this case — is a woman who surely asserts a sacred claim. Let no wise man deny it." " Do you think it quite discreet," I ventured to ask, " to add those words?" 6S JEZEi3ELS DAUGHTER, Slie looked at me with a moment's furtive scrutiny, and only answered after slie had sealed the letter, and placed it in mj hands. " I have my reasons/' she replied. " Let the vv'ords remain." Returning to the house at rather a late hour for Franlcfort, I was suri^rised to find Mr. Keller waiting to see me. "I have had a talk with my partner," he said. " It has left (for the time only, I hope), a painful impression on both sides — and I must ask you to do me a service, in the place of Mr. Engelman — who has an engagement to-morrow, which prevents him from leaving Frankfort," His tone indicated plainly enough that the "engagement" was with Madame Fontaine. Hard words must have passed between the two old friends on the subject of the widow. Even Mr. Engelman's placid temper had, no doubt, resented Mr. Keller's conduct at the meetincc in the hall. ** The service I ask of you," he resumed, " vail be easily rendered. The proprietor of a commercial establishment at Hanau is desirous of entering into business-relations with us, and has sent references to respectable persons in the town and neighbourhood, which it is necessary to verify. We are so busy in the office that it is 'irji^ossible for me to leava Frankfort itself, or to employ our clerks on this errand. I have drawn out the necessary instructions — and Hanau, as you are aware, is within an easy distance of Frankfort. Have you any objection to be the reprcGcntative of the house in this matter ?" It is needless to say that I was gratified by the confidence that had been placed in me, and eager to show that I really deserved it. "We arranged that I should leave Frankfort by the earliest conveyance the next morning. On our way upstairs to our bed-chambers, Mr, Keller detained me for a moment more. JEZEBEL* S DAUGHTER. 83 " I have no claim to coutrol you in the clioice of jour friends," he said ; *' but I am old enough to give you a word of advice. Don't associate yourself too readily, David, with the woman whom I found here to-night." He shook hands cordially, and left me. I thought of Madame Fontaine's letter in my pocket, and felt a strong conviction that he would persist in his refusal to read it. The servants were the only persons stirring in the house, when I rose the next morning. Unobserved by any one, I placed the letter on the desk in Mr. Keller's private room. That done, I started on my journey to Hanau. CHAPTEE XIV. Thanks to the instructions confided to me, my errand pi'e- sented no difficulties. There were certain persons to whom I was introduced, and certain information to be derived from them, which it was my duty to submit to Mr. Keller on my return. Fidelity was required of me, and discretion was required of me — and that was all. At the close of my day's work, the hospitable merchant, whose references I had been engaged in verifying, refused to permit me to return to the hotel. His dinner-hour had been put oif expressly to suit my convenience. " You will only meet the members of my family," he said, " and a cousin oi my wife's who is here with her daughter, on a visit to us — Frau Meyer, of Wiirzburg." I a-ccepted the invitation, feeling privately an Englishman's reluctance to confronting an assembly of strangers, and anti- cipating nothing remarkable in reference to Frau Meyei although she did come from Wiirzburg. Even when I \x\.Vi presented to the ladies in due form, as " the honoured representative of Mr. Keller, of Frankfort," I was too stupid, 64 JEZEBEDS DAUGHTER, or too mucli absorbed in tbe business on whicli I had been engaged, to be much struck by the sudden interest with which Frau Mej-er regarded me. She was a fat florid old iadv, who looked coarsely clever and resolute ; and she had a daughter who promised to resemble her but too faithfully, in due course of time. It was a relief to me, at dinner, to find myself placed between the merchant's wife and her eldest son. They were far more attractive neighbours at table, to my thinking, than Frau Meyer. Dinner being over, we withdrew to another room to take our coltee. The merchant and his son, both ardent musicians in their leisure hours, played a sonata for pianoforte and viohn. I was at the opposite extremity of the room, looking at some fine proof impressions of prints from the old masters, when a voice at my side startled me by an unexpected question. " May I ask, sir, if you are acquainted with Mr. Keller'g Bon?" I looked round, and discovered Frau Meyer. " Have you seen him lately ?" she proceeded, when I had acknowledged that I was acquainted with Fritz. " And can you tell me where he is now ?" I answered both these questions, Frau Meyer looked thoroughly well satisfied with me. " Let us have a little talk," she said, and seated herself, and signed to me to take a chair near her. " I feel a true interest in Fritz," she resumed, lowering her voice so as not to be heard by the musicians at the other end of the room. "Until to-day, I have heard nothing of him since he left Wiirzburg. I like to talk about him — he once did me a kindness a long time since. I suppose you are in his confidence ? Has he told you why his father sent him away from the University?" My reply to this was, I am afraid, rather absently given. JEZEBEDS DAUGHTER, 85 The tvutli is, my mind was running on some earlier worJs which liad dropped from the old lady's lips. " lie once did me a tindness a long time since." When had I last heard that commonplace phrase? and why did I remember it so readily when I now heard it again ? " Ah, his father did a Avise thing in separating him from that woman and her daughter !" Frau Meyer went on. *' Madame Fontaine deliberately entrapped the poor boy into the engagement. But perhaps you are a friend of hers ? In that case, I retract and apologise." " Quite needless," I said. " You are not a friend of Madame Fontaine ?" she per- sisted. This cool attempt to force an answer from me failed in its object. It was like being cross-examined in a court of law; and, in our common English phrase, "it set my back up." In the strict sense of the word, Madame Fontaine might be termed an acquaintance, but certainly not a friend, of mine. For once, I took the prudent course, and said. No. Frau Meyer's expansive bosom emitted a hearty sigh of relief. " Ah !" she said, " now I can talk freely — in Fritz's interest, mind. You are a young man like himself ; he will be disposed to listen to you. Do all you can to back hia father's influence, and cure him of his infatuation. I tell you plainly, his marriage would be his ruin !" " You speak very strongly, madam. Do you object to the young lady?'* " Not I ; a harmless insignificant creature — nothing more and nothing less. It's her vile mother that I object to." *' As I have heard, Frau Meyer, there are two sides to that question. Fritz is persuaded that Madame Fontaine is an injured woman. He assures me, for instance, that she is the fondest of mothers." " Bah I What does that amount to ? It's as much a part eS JEZEBELS DAUGHTER, of a woman's nature to take to hor child, when she has got one, as it is to take to her dinner when she is hungry. A fond mother? What stuff! Why, a cat is a fond mother —What's the matter ?'* A cat is a fond mother. Another familiar phrase— and thia time a phrase remarkable enough to lead my memory back in the right directiouc In an instant I recollected the anony- mous letter to Fritz. In an instant I felt the conviction that Fran Meyer, in her eagerness to persuade me, had un- consciously repeated two of the phrases which she had already used, in her eagerness to persuade Fritz. No wonder I started in my chair, when I felt that I was face to face with the writer of the anonymous letter ! I made some excuse — I forget what — and hastened to resume the conversation. The opportunity of making dis- coveries vvhich might be invaluable to Fritz (to say nothing of good IMr. Engelman) was r.ot an opportunity to be neglected. I persisted in quotuig Fritz's authority ; I re- peated his assertion relative to the love of scandal at Wiirz- burg, and the envy of Madame Fontaine's superior attrac- tions felt among the ladies. Frau Meyer laughed disdain- fully. "Poor Fritz!" said she. "An excellent disposition — but so easily persuaded, so much too amiable. Our being all envious of Widow Fontaine is too ridiculous. It is a mere waste of time to notice such nonsense. Wait a little, Mr. David, and you will see. If you and Mr. Keller can only keep Fritz out of the widow's way for a few months longer, his eyes will be opened in spite of himseL. He may yet come back to us with a free heart, and he may choose his future wife more wisely next time." As she said this her eyes wandered away to her daughter, nt the other end of the room. Unless her face betrayed her, she had evidently planned, at some past time, to possess her- JEZEBEL'S DAUailTER. S-1 self of Fritz as a son-in-law, and slio Lad not resigned ilio hope of geonring him yet. Madame Fontaine might be o deceitful wid dangerous woman. But what sort of witness against her was this abusive old lady, the unscrupulous writer of an anonymous letter ? *' You prophesy very con- fidently about what is to come in the future," I ventured to say. Frau Meyer's red face turned a shade redder. " Does that mean that you don't believe me ?" she asked. " Certainly not, madam. It only means that you speak severely of Doctor Fontaine's widow — without mentioning any facts that justify you." ** Oh ! you want facts, do you ? I'll soon show you whether I know what I am talking about or not. Has Fritz mentioned that among Madame Fontaine's other virtues, she has paid her debts ? I'll tell you how she has paid them — as an example, young gentleman, that I am not talking at random. Your admirable widow, sir, is great at fascinating old men ; they are always falling in love with her, the idiots ! A certain old man at Wiirzburg — close to eighty, mind — was one of her victims. I had a letter this morning which tells me that he was found dead in his bed, two days since, and that his nephew is the sole heir to all that he leaves behind him. Examination of his papers has shown that he paid the widow's creditors, and that he took a promissory note from her — ha ! ha ! ha !— a promissory note from a woman without a farthing ! — in payment of the sum that he had advanced. The poor old man would, no doubt, have destroyed the note if lie had known that his end was so near. His sudden death has transferred it to the hands of his heir. In money-matters, the nephew is reported to be one of the hardest men living. When that note falls due, he will present it for payment. I don't know where Madame Fontaine is now. No matter ! Sooner or later, she is sure to hear of what has happened— 88 JEZEBEUS DAUGHTER, and she must find the money, or see the inside of a debtor's prison. These are the facts that I had in my mind, Mr David, when I spoke of events opening Fritz's eyes to the truth." I submitted with all possible humility to the lady's triumph over me. My thoughts were with Minna. What a prospect for the innocent, affectionate girl ! Assuming the statement that I had just heard to be true, there was surely a chance that Madame Fontaine (with time before her) might find the money. I put this view of the case to Frau Meyer. " If I didn't know Mr. Keller to be a thoroughly resolute man," she answered, " I should say she might find the money too. She has only to succeed in marrying her daughter to Fritz, and Mr. Keller would be obliged to pay the money for the sake of the family credit. But he is one of the few men whom she can't twist round her finger. If you ever fall in with her, take care of yourself. She may find your influence with Fritz an obstacle in her way — and she may give you /eason to remember that the mystery of her husband's lost chest of poisons is not cleared up yet. It was all in the German newspapers — you know what I mean." This seemed to me to be passing all bounds of moderation. " And you know, madam," I answered sharply, " that there was no evidence against her — nothing whatever to associate her with the robbery of the medicine chest." ** Not even suspicion, Mr. David?" " Not even suspicion." I rose from my chair as I spoke. Minna was still in my thoughts ; I was not merely unwilling, I was almost afraid to hear more. " One minute," said Frau Meyer. " Which of the two hotels here are you staying at ? I want to send you some- thing to read to-night, after you have left us." I told her the name of the hotel; and we joineff" our JEZEBEDS DAUGHTER. 80 friends at tlie otlicr end of the room. Not long afterwards I took my leave. Mj spirits were depressed ; a dark cloud of uncertainty seemed to hang over the future. Even the prospect of returning to Frankfort, the next day, became repellent to me. I was almost inclined to hope that my aunt might (as Mr. Keller had predicted) recall me to London. CHAPTER XV. From these reflections I was roused by the appearance of a waiter, with a letter for me. The envelope contained a slip cut from a German newspaper, and these lines of writing, signed by Frau Meyer: — ** To-Q are either a very just, or a very obstinate young man. In either case, il virill do you no harm to read what I inclose. I am not such a scandal-mongering old woman as you seem to think. The concealment of the names will not puzzle you. Please return the slip. It belongs to our excellent host, and forms part of his collection of literary curiosities." Such was the introduction to my reading. I translate it from the G-erman newspaper into English as literally as I can. The Editor's few prefatory words were at the top of the column, bearing the date of September 1828. " We have received, in strictest confidence, extracts from letters written by a lady to a once-beloved friend. The extracts are dated and numbered, and are literally presented in this column — excepting the obviously necessary precaution of suppressing names, places, and days of the month. Taken in connection with a certain inquiry which is now occupying the public mind, these fragments may throw some faint glimmer of light on events which are at present involved in. darkness.*' go JEZEBEUS DAUGUTER. Ntcmher I. 1809. — "Yes, dccarest Julie, I have run tte grand risk. Only yesterday, I was married to Doctor — — . The people at the church were our only witnesses. " My father declares that I have degraded his noble blood by marrying a medical man. He forbade my mother to attend the ceremony. Poor simple soul ! she asked me if I loved my young doctor, and was quite satisfied when I said Yes. As for my father's objections, my husband is a man of high promise in his profession. In his country — I think I told you in my last letter that he was a Frenchman — a famous physician is ennobled by the State. I shall leave no stone unturned, my dear, to push my husband forward. And when he is made a Baron, we shall see what my father will say to us then." Numler II. 1810. — " We have removed, my Julie, to this detestably dull old German town, for no earthly reason but that the University is famous as a medical schooL " My husband informs me, in his sweetest manner, that he will hesitate at no sacrifice of our ordinary comforts to increase his professional knowledge. If you could see how the ladies dress in this lost hole of a place, if you could hear the twaddle they talk, you would pity me. I have but one consolation — a lovely baby, Julie, a girl : I had almost said an angel. Were you as fond of your first child, I wonder, as I am of mine ? And did you utterly forget your husband, when the little darling was first put into your arms ? Write and tell me." Numhcr III. 1811. — " I have hardly patience to take up my pen. But I shall do something desperate, if I don't relieve my overburdened mind in some way. " After I wrote to you last year, I succeeded in getting my husband away from the detestable University. But he pei- eisted in hanging about Grermany, and conferring with mouldy JEZEBEL'S DAUGHTER, 91 old doctors (whom he calls ' Princes of Science !') instead of returning to Paris, taking a handsome house, and making his way to the top of the tree with my help. I am the very woman to give brilliant parties, and to push my hushand'a interests with powerful people of all degrees. No; I really must not dwell on it. When I think of what has happened since, it will drive mo mad. " Six weeks ago, a sort of medical congress was announced to be held at the University. Something in the proposed discussion was to be made the subject of a prize-essay. Tlie doctor's professional interest in this matter decided him on trying for the prize — and the result is our return to the hateful old town and its society. ** Of course, my husband resumes his professional studies ; of course, I am thrown once more among the dowdy gossip- iuGf women. But that is far from beini? the worst of it. Among the people in the School of Chemistry here, there is a new man, who entered the University shortly after we left it last year. This devil — it is the only right word for him — has bewitched my weak husband ; and, for all I can see to the contrary, has ruined our prospects in life. " He is a Hungarian. Small, dirty, lean as a skeleton, with hands like claws, eyes like a wild beast's, and the most hideously false smile you ever saw in a human face. What his history is, nobody knows. The people at the medical school call him the most extraordinary experimental chemist living. His ideas astonish the Professors themselves. The students have named him * The new Paracelsus.' " I ventured to ask him, one clay, if he believed he could make gold. He looked at me with his frightful grin, and said, * Yes, and diamonds too, with time and money to help me.' He not only believes in The Philosopher's Stone ; he says he is on the trace of some explosive compound so terrifi- cally destructive in its effect, that it will make war impos- 92 JEZEBEDS DAUGHTER. sible. He declares that he will annihilate time and space by means of electricity; and that he will develop steam as a motive power, until travellers can rush over the whole habit- able globe at the rate of a mile in a minute. *' Why do I trouble you with these ravings ? My dear, this boastful adventurer has made himself master of my husband, has talked him out of his senses, has reduced my influence over him to nothing. Do you think I am exagge- rating? Hear how it has ended. My husband absolutely refuses to leave this place. He cares no longer even to try for the prize. The idea of medical practice has become distasteful to him, and he has decided on devoting his life to discovery in chemical science. " And this is the man whom I married with the sincerest belief in the brilliant social career that v/as before him ! For this contemptible creature I have sacrificed my position in the world, and alienated my father from me for ever. I may look forward to being the wife of a poor Professor, who shows experiments to stupid lads in a school. And the friends in Paris, who, to my certain knowledge, are waiting to give him introductions to the Imperial Court itself, may transfer their services to some other man. "No words can tell you what I feel at this comploto collapse of all my hopes and plans. The one consideration of my child is all that restrains me from leaving my husband, never to see him again. As it is, I must live a life of deceit, and feign respect and regard for a man whom I despise with my whole heart. "Power — oh, if I had the power to make the fury that consumes me felt! The curse of our sex is its helplessness. Every day, Julie, the conviction grows on me that I shall end badly. Who among us knows the capacity for wickedness that lies dormant in our natures, until the fatal event cemea and calls it forth ? JEZEBELS DAUGHTER. 95 *• No ! I am letting you see too much of my tortured soul. Let me close my letter, and play with my child." Ntcmher IV. 1812. — " My heartfelt congratulations, dearest, on your return to Germany, after your pleasant visit to the United States. And more congratulations yet on the large addition to your income, due to your husband's intelligence and spirit of enterprise on American ground. Ah, you have married a Man ! Happy woman ! I am married to a Machine. " Why have I left your kind letters from America without reply ? My Julie, I have constantly thought of you ; but the life I lead is slowly crushing my energies. Over and over again, I have taken up my pen; and over and over again, I have laid it aside, recoiling from the thought of myself and my existence ; too miserable (perhaps too proud) to tell you what a wretched creature I am, and what thoughts come to me sometimes in the wakeful hours of the night. " After this confession, you wonder, perhaps, why I write to you now. " I really believe it is because I have been threatened with legal proceedings by my creditors, and have just come victo- riously out of a hard struggle to appease them for the time. This little fight has roused me from my apathy ; it has rallied my spirits, and made me feel like my old self again. I am no longer content v/ith silently loving my dearest friend ; I open my heart and write to her. " * Oh, dear, how sad that she should be in debt !* I can hear you say this, and sigh to yourself — you who have never known what it was to be in want of money since you were born. Shall I tell you what my husband earns at the University ? No : I feel the blood rushing into my face at the bare idea of revealing it. *' Let me do the Professor justice. My Animated MummJ has reached the height of his ambition at last — he is Pro' ^ JEZEBnvS DAUGHTER, fessor of Cliemistry, and is perfectly happy for tbe rest of his life. My dear, he is as lean, and almost as dirty, as the wretch who first perverted him. Do you remember my once writing to you about a mysterious Hungarian, whom we found in the University ? A few years since, this man died by suicide, as mysteriously as he had lived. They found him in the laboratory, with a strange inscription tiaced in chalk on the wall by which he lay dead. These were the Avords : — ■ ' After giving it a fair trial, I find that life is not worth living for. I have decided to destroy myself with a poison of my own discovery. JNfy chemical papers and preparations are hereby bequeathed to my friend Doctor , and my body is presented as a free gift to the anatomy school. Let a com- mittee of surgeons and analysts examine my remains. I defy them to discover a trace of the drug that has killed me.* And they did try, Julio — and discovered nothing. I wonder whether the suicide has left the receipt for that poison, among his other precious legacies, to his 'friend Dr. .' " Why do I trouble you with these nauseous details ? Because they arc in no small degree answerable for my debts. My husband devotes all his leisure hours to continuing tho detestable experiments begun by the Hungarian ; and my yearly dress-money for myself and my child has been reduced one half, to pay the chemical expenses. " Ought I, in this hard case, to have diminished my expen- diture to the level of my reduced income ? *' If you say Yes, I answer that human endurance has its limits. I can support the martyrdom of my life; the loss of my dearest illusions and hopes ; the mean enmity of our neighbours ; the foul-mouthed jealousy of the vromen ; and, more than all, the exasperating patience of a husband who never resents the hardest things I can say to him, and who persists in loving and admiring me as if we were only married JEZEBEDS da UGIITER. 05 last week. But I Ccannot see mj cliild in a stuff frock, on promenade days in the Palace Gardens, when other people's children are wearing silk. And plain as my own dress maj be, I mnst and will have the best material that is made. When the wife of the military commandant (a woman sprung from the people) goes out in an Indian shavv 1 with Brussels lace in her bonnet, am I to meet her and return her bow, in a camclet cloak and a beaver hat ? Ko ! When I lose my self-respect let me lose my life too. IMy husband may sink as low as he pleases. I abvays have stood above him, and I always will ! "And so I am in debt, and my creditors threaten mc. What does it matter ? I have pacified them, for the time, with some small instalments of mono}^, and a large expendi- ture of smiles. "I wish you could see my darling little Minna ; she is the loveliest and sweetest child in the world — my pride at all times, and my salvation in my desperate moods. There are moments vfhen I feel inclined to set lire to the hateful University, paid destroy all the mouldy old creatures who inhabit it. I take Minna out and buy her a little present, and see her eyes sparkle and her colour rise, and feci her innocent kisses, and become, for awhile, quite a good woman xgain. Yesterday, her father — no, I shall work myself up into a fury if I tell you about it. Let me only say that i\linna saved me as usual. I took her to the jeweller's and bought her a pair of pearl earrings. If you could have heard her, if you could have seen her, when the little angel first looked at herself in the glass ! I wonder v/hen I shall pay for the earrings ? " Ah, Julie, if I only had such an income as yours, I would make my power felt in this place. The insolent vromeu should fawn on me and fear me. I would have my own house and establishment in the country, to purify me after 98 JEZEBEVS DAUGHTER, tlie atmospliere of the Professor's drugs. I would — well ! rrell ! never mind wliat else I would have. " Talking of power, have you read the account of tb^ execution last year of that wonderful criminal, Anna Marii Z^^anziger? Wherever she went, the path of this terrific woman is strewed with the dead whom she has poisoned. She appears to have lived to destroy her fellow-creatures, and to have met her doom with the most undaunted courage. What a career ! and what an end !* " The foolish people in Wiirzburg are at a loss to find motives for some of the murders she committed, and try to get out of the difficulty by declaring that she must have been a homicidal maniac. This is not my explanation. I can understand the murderess becoming morally intoxicated with the sense of her own tremendous power. A mere human crea- ture — only a woman, Julie ! — armed with the means of secretly dealing death around her, wherever she goes — meeting with strangers who displease her, looking at them quietly, and saying to herself, * I doom you to die, before you are a day older' — is there no explanation, here, of some of Zwanziger's poisonings which are incomprehensible to commonplace minds? *' I put this view, in talking of the trial, to the military commandant a few days since. His vulgar wife answered mo before he could speak. * Madame Fontaine,' said this spitfire, * my husband and I don't feel your sympathy with poisoners !' Take that as a specimen of the ladies of Wiirzburg — and let me close this unmercifully long letter. I think you will acknowledge, my dear, that, when I do write, I place a flattering trust in my friend's jjatient remembrance of me." There the newspaper extracts came to an end. As a picture of a perverted mind, struggling between good • The terrible career of Anna Maria Zwanziger, sentenced to death at Bamberg iu the year 1811, will be found related in Lady Duff-Gordon'g translation of Feuerbach's '* Criminal Trials.** J^ZEDEDS DAUGHTER. 97 jind evil, and slowly losing ground under the stealthy influence of temptation, the letters certainly possessed a melancholy interest for any thoughtful reader. But (not being a spiteful voman) I failed to see, in these extracts, the connection which Frau Meyer had attempted to establish between the wicked- ness of Madame Fontaine and the disappearance of her hus- band's medicine chest. At the same time, I must acknowledge that a vague im- pression of distrust ivas left on my mind by what I had read. I felt a certain sense of embarrassment at the prospect of renewing my relations with the widow, on my return to Frankfort ; and I was also conscious of a decided increase of anxiety to hear what had been Mr. Keller's reception of Madame Fontaine's letter. Add to this, that my brotherly interest in Minna was scuGibly strengthened — and the effect on me of the extracts in the newspaper is truly stated, so far as I can remember it at this distant time. On the evening of the next day, I was back again at Frankfort. CHAPTER XVI. Mr. Keller and Mr. Engelman were both waiting to receive me. They looked over my written report of my inquiries at Hanau, and expressed the warmest approval of it. So far all was well. But, when we afterwards sat down to our supper, I noticed a change in the two partners, which it was impossible to see without regret. On the surface they v/ere as friendly towards tach other as ever. But a certain constraint of look and manner, a palpable effort, on either side, to speak with the old unsought ease and gaiety, showed that the disastrous discovery of Madame Fontaine in the hall had left its evil results behind it. Mr. Keller retired, when the meal was over, to examine my report minutely in all its details. K 98 JEZEBEVS DAUGBTEU. When we were alone, Mr. Engelman lit his pipe. He spoke to me once more with the friendly familiarity of past days — before he met the too-fascinating widow on the bridge. " My dear boy, tell me frankly, do you notice any change in Keller?" ** I see a change in both of you," I answered : " you are not such pleasant companions as you used to be." Mr. Engelman blew out a mouthful of smoke, and followed it by a heavy sigh. " Keller has become so bitter,*' he said. " His hasty temper I never complained of, as you know. But in these later days he is hard — hard as stone. Do you know what he did with dear Madame Fontaine's letter? A downright insult, David — he sent it back to her !" "Without explanation or apology?" I asked. " With a line on the envelope. * I warned you that I should refuse to read your letter. You see that I am a man of my word.' What a message to send to a poor mother, who only asks leave to plead for her child's happiness ! You s::w the letter. Enough to melt the heart of any man, as I should have thought. I spoke to Keller on the subject ; I really couldn't help it." "Wasn't that rather indiscreet, Mr. Engelman?" " I said nothing that could reasonably offend him. ' Do you know cf some discreditable action on the part of Madame Fontaine, which has not been found out by any one else ?' I asked. ' I know the character she bears in Wiirzburg,' he said ; *■ and the other night I saw her face. That is all I know, friend Engelman, and that is enough for me.' With those sour words, he walked out of the room. What lamentable prejudice ! What an unchristian way of thinking ! The name of Madame Fontaine will never be mentioned between us again. When that much-injured lady honours JEZ IMBEDS DAUGHTER. 00 me witli anot/her visit, I can only receive her where she will be protected from insult, in a house of my own." " Surely you are not going to separate yourself from Mr. Keller?" I said. " Not for the present. I will wait till your aunt comes here, and brings that restless reforming spirit of hers into the business. Changes are sure to follow — and my change of residence may pass as one of them." He got up to leave the room, and stopped o.t the door. "I Avish you would come with me, David, to Madame Fontaine's. She is very anxious to see you." Feeling no such anxiety on my side, I attempted to excuse myself; but he went on without giving me time to speak — " Nice little Miss Minna is very dull, poor child. She has no friend of her own age here at Frankfort, excepting yourself. And she has asked me more than once when Mr. David would returir from Hanau." My excuses failed me when I heard this. IMr. En^c^'clman and I left the house together. As we approached the door of Madame Fontiiine's lodg- ings, it was opened from within by the landlady, and a stranger stepped out into the street. He was sufficiently well dressed to pass for a gentleman — but there were ob- stacles in his face and manner to a successful personation of the character. He cast a peculiarly furtive look at us both, as we ascended the house-steps. I thought he was a police spy. Mr. Engelman set him down a degree lower in the social scale. " I hope you are not in debt, ma'am," he said to the land- lady ; " that man looks to me like a bailiff in disguise." " I manage to pay my way, sir, though it is a hard strug- gle," the woman replied. " As for the gentleman v/ho haa just gone out, I knov/ no more of him than you do." *'May 7 ask what he wanted hero?" 100 JEZEBKVS DAVCnTEd " He wanted to know when Madame Fontaine was likclj to quit my apartments. I told him my lodger had not ap- pointed any time for leaving me yet." " Did he mention Madame Fontaine's name ?'* " Yes, sir." " How did he know that she lived here ?" " He didn't say." "And you didn't think of asking him ?'* " It was very stupid of mo, sir — I only asked him how he came to know that I let apartments. He said, *' Never mind, now ; I am well recommended, and I'll call again, and tell you about it." And then I opened the door for him, as you saw." " Did he ask to see Madame Fontaine ?" " No, sir." " Very odd !" said Mr. Engelmau, as we went upstairs. *' Do you think we ought to mention it?" I thought not. There was nothing at all uncommon in the stranger's inquiries, taken by themselves. We had no right, that I could see, to alarm the widow, because we hap- pened to attach purely fanciful suspicions to a man of whom we knew nothing. I expressed this opinion to Mr. Engel- man ; and he agreed with me. The same subdued tone which had struck me in the little household in Main Street, was again visible in the welcome v.'V.ich I received in Madame Fontaine's lodgings. Minna looked weary of waiting for the long-expected letter from Fritz. Minna's mother pressed my hand in silence, with a melancholy smile. Her reception of my companion struck me as showing some constraint. After what had happened on the night of her visit to the house, she could no longer expect him to help her to an interview with Mr. Keller. Was she merely keeping np appearances, on the chance that ho might yet be useful to her, in some other way? The JEZEBEDS DAUCnrER. 101 trifling change wliicii I observed did not appear to present itself to Mr. Engelman. I turned away to Minna. Know- ing what I knew, it grieved me to see that the poor old man fv^as fonder of the widow, and prouder of her thaivever. It was no very hard task to revive the natural hopefulness of Minna's nature. Calculating the question of time in the days before railroads, I was able to predict the arrival of Fritz's letter in two, or at most three days more. This bright prospect was instantly reflected in the girl's innocent face. Her interest in the little world about her revived. When her mother joined us, in our corner of the room, I was telling her all that could be safely related of my visit to Hauau. Madame Fontaine seemed to be quite as attentive as her daughter to the progress of my trivial narrative — to Mr. Engelman's evident surprise. " Did you go farther than Hanau ?" the widow asked. " No farther." "Were there any guests to meet you at the dinner- party?" ^' Only the members of the family." " I lived so long, David, in dull old Wiirzburg, that I can't help feeling a certain interest in the town. Did the subject turn up ? Did you hear of anything that was going on there?" I answered this as cautiously as I had answered the questions that had gone before it. Frau Meyer had, I fear, partially succeeded in perverting my sense of justice. Before my journey to Hanau, I might have attributed the widow's inquiries to mere curiosity. I believed suspicion to be the ruling motive with her, now. Before any more questions could be asked, Mr. Engelman changed the topic to a subject of greater interest to himself. " I have told David, dear lady, of Mr. Keller's inhuman reception of your letter." 102 JEZEBELS DAUGHTER, " Dou't say * inhuman/ '* Madame Fontaine answered gently; "it is I alone who am to blame. I have been a cause of estrangement between you and your partner, and I have destroyed whatever little chance I might once have had of setting myself right in Mr. Keller's estimation. All due to my rashness in mentioning my name. If I had been less fond of my little girl here, and less eager to seize the first opportunity of pleading for her, I should never have com- mitted that fatal mistake." So far, this was sensibly said — and, as an explanation of her own imprudence, was unquestionably no more than the truth. I was less favourably impressed by what followed, when she went on : ** Pray understand, David, that I don't complain. I feel no ill-will towards Mr. Keller. If chance placed the oppor- tunity of doing him a service in my hands, I should be ready and willing to make use of it — I should be only too glad to repair the mischief that I have so innocently done." She raised her handkerchief to her eyes. Mr. Engelman raised his handkerchief to Tiis eyes. Minna took her mother's hand. I alone sat undemonstrative, with my sympathies in a state of repose. Frau Meyer again ! Nothing but the influence of Frau Meyer could have hardened me in this way! *' I have entreated our sweet friend not to leave Frankfort in despair," Mr. Engelman explained in faltering tones. "Although my influence with Keller is, for the present, a lost influence in this matter, I am more than willing — I am eager — to speak to Mrs. Wagner on Madame Fontaine's behalf. My advice is. Wait for Mrs. Wagner's arrival, an 1 trust to my zeal, and my position in the firm. When both his partners summon him to do justice to an injured woman, even Keller must submit !" JEZEBEUS DAUGHTER. lOf The widow's eyes were still hidden behind her handken fhief. But the lower part of her face was visible. Unless I fompletely misinterpreted the mute language of her lips, she had not the faintest belief in the fulfilment of Mr. Engel- man's prediction. Whatever reason she might have for reuiaiiiing in Frankfort, after the definite rejection of her too-confident appeal to Mr. Keller's sympathies, was thus far undoubtedly a reason known only to herself. That very night, after we had left her, an incident occurred which sug- gested that she had some motive for ingratiating herself with one of the servants in Mr. Keller's house. Our domestic establishment indoors consisted of the sour- tempered old housekeeper (who was perfectly unapproach- able) ; of a little kitchenmaid (too unimportant a person to be worth conciliating) ; and of the footman Joseph, who per- formed the usual duties of waiting on us at table, and answering the door. This last was a foolish young man, excessively vain of his personal appearance — but a passably good servant, making allowance for these defects. Having occasion to ring for Joseph, to do me some little service, I noticed that the loose ends of his necktie were con- nected by a smart new pin, presenting a circle of malachite set in silver. " Have you had a present lately," I asked, " or are you extravagant enough to spend your money on buying jewellery ?" Joseph simpered in undisguised satisfaction with himself, " It's a present, sir, from Madame Fontaine. I take her flowers almost every day from Mr. Engelman, and I have done one or two trifling errands for her in the town. She was pleased with my attention to her wishes. * I have very little money, Mr. Joseph,' she said ; ' oblige me by accepting this pin in return for the trouble I have given you.* And she took the pin out of the beautiful white lace round hei 104 JEZEBEL'S DAUGHTER. neck, and made me a present of it with her own hand. A most liberal ladj, isn't she, sir ?** "Liberal indeed, Joseph, considering the small services which you seem to have rendered to her. Are you quite sure that she doesn't expect something more of you ?'* " Oh, quite sure, sir." He blushed as he said that — and rather hurriedly left the room. How would Frau Meyer have interpreted Joseph's blushes, and the widow's liberality ? I went to bed without caring to pursue that question. A lapse of two days more brought with it two interesting events : the opening night of a travelling opera company on a visit to Frankfort, and the arrival by a late post of our long-expected letters from London. The partners (both of them ardent lovers of music) had taken a box for the short season, and, with their usual kind- ness, had placed a seat at my disposal. We were all three drinking our coffee before going to the theatre, and Joseph was waiting on us, when the rheumatic old housekcci)er brought in the letters, and handed them to me, as the persou who sat nearest to the door. " Why, my good creature, what has made you climb the stairs, when you might have rung for Joseph ?" asked kind- hearted Mr. Engelman. " Because I have got something to ask of my masters,'* answered crabbed Mother Barbara. " There are your letters, to begin with. Is it true that you are, all three of you, going to the theatre to-night?" She never used any of the ordinary terms of respect. If she had been their mother, instead of their housekeeper, she could not have spoken more familiarly to the two old gentle- men who employed her. " Well," she went on, " my daughter is in trouble about her baby, and wants my advice. Teething, and convulsions, and that sort of thing. As you are all going out for the evening, JEZEBELS DAUGHTER. 105 you don't VvMiit me, aftor I have put your bedrooDis tidy. I can go to my ddugliter for an hour or two, I suppose— and Joseph (who isn't of lauch use, heaven knows) can take care of the house." Mr. Keller, refreshing his memory of the opera of tho night (Gluck's " Armida") by consulting tho book, nodded, and went on with his reading. Mr. Engelman said, " Cer- tainly, my good soul ; give my best wishes to your daughter for the baby's health." brother Barbara grunted, and hobbled out of the room. I looked at the letters. Two were for me — from my aunt and Fritz. One was for Mr. Keller — addressed also in the handwriting of my aunt. When I handed it to him across the table, he dropped " Armida" the moment he looked at the envelope. It was the answer to his remonstrance on the subject of the employment of women. For Minna's sake, I opened Fritz's letter first. It con- tained the long-expected lines to his sweetheart. I went out at once, and, inclosing the letter in an envelope, sent Joseph away with it to the widow's lodgings before Mother Barbara's departure made it necessary for him to remain in the house. Fritz's letter to me was very unsatisfactory. In my absence, London was unendurably dull to him, and Minna was more necessary to the happiness of his life than ever. He desired to be informed, by return of post, of the present place of residence of Madame Fontaine and her daughter. If I re- fused to comply with this request, he could not undertake to control himself, and he thought it quite likely that he might " follow his heart's dearest aspirations," and set forth on the journey to Frankfort in search of Minna. My aunt's letter was full of the subject of Jack Straw. In the first place she had discovered, while arranging her late husband's library, a book which had evidently suggested his ideas of reformation in the treatment of the insane. Jt 106 JEZEBEL'S DAUGHTER. was called, " Description of the Eetreat, an institution neai York for insane persons of tlie Society of Friends. Written by Samuel Tuke." She had communicated with the institu- tion ; had received the most invaluable help ; and would bring the book with her to Frankfort, to be translated into German, in the interests of humanity.* As for her merciful experiment with poor Jack, it had proved to be completely successful — with one serious draw- back. So long as he was under her eye, and in daily com- munication with her, a more grateful, affectionate, and per- fectly harmless creature never breathed the breath of life. Even Mr. Hartrey and the lawyer had been obliged to con- fess that they had been in the wrong throughout, in the view they had taken of the matter. But, when she happened to be absent from the house, for any length of time, it was not to be denied that Jack relapsed. He did nothing that was violent or alarming — he merely laid himself down on the mat before the door of her room, and refused to eat, drink, speak, or move, until she returned. He heard her outside the door, before any one else was aware that she was near the house; and his joy burst out in a scream which did certainly recall Bedlam. That was the drawback, and the only drawback ; and how she was to take the journey to Frankfort, which Mr. Keller's absurd remonstrance had rendered absolutely necessary, was more than my aunt's utmost ingenuity could thus far discover. Setting aside the difiRculty of disposing of Jack, there was another difficulty, represented by Fritz. It was in the last degree doubtful if he could be trusted to remain in London in her absence. " But I shall manage it," the resolute woman concluded. " I never yet despaired of anything — and I don't despair now." Eeturning to the sitting-room, when it was time to go to * Tuke's Description of the Retreat near York is reviewed by Sydney Smith in a number of the '• Edinburgh Review," for 1814. JEZEBEL'S DAUGHTER. 107 the theatre, I found Mr. Kollcr with his temper in a fliuuo, and Mr. Engelman silently smoking as usual. " Eead that !" cried Mr. Keller, tossing my aunt's reply to him across the table. " It Avon't talce long." It was literally a letter of four lines ! " I have received your remonstrance. It is useless for two people who disagree as widely as we do, to write to each other. Please wait for my answer, until I arrive at Frankfort." " Let's go to the music !" cried Mr. Keller. " God knows, I want a composing influence of some kind." At the end of the first act of the opera, a new trouble exhausted his small stock of patience. He had been too irritated, on leaving the house, to remember his opera-glass ; aid he was sufficiently near-sighted to feel the want of it. It is needless to say that I left the theatre at once to bring back the glass in time for the next act. My instructions informed me that I should find it on his bedroom-table. I thought .Joseph looked confused when he opened the house-door to me. As I ran upstairs, he followed me, saying something. I was in too great a hurry to pay any attention to him. Reaching the second floor by two stairs at a time, I burst into Mr. Keller's bedroom, and found myself face to face with — Madame Fontaine ! CHAPTER XVII. The widow was alone in the room ; standing by the bedside table on which Mr. Keller's night- drink was placed. I wa:? so completely taken by surprise, that I stood stock-still lika a fool, and stared at Madame Fontaine in silence. On her side she was, as I believe, equally astonished and 108 JEZEBEL'S DAUGHTER. equally confounded, but better able to conceal it. For tlio inonieiit, and only for tlie moment, she too had nothing to say. Then she lifted her left hand from under her shavri. " You have caught me, Mr. David !" she said— and held up a drawing-book as she spoke. " What are you doing here ?" I asked. She pointed with the book to the famous carved mantelpiece. " You know how I longed to make a study of that glorious work," she answered. " Don't be hard on a poor artist who takes her opportunity when she finds it." " May I ask how you came to know of the opportunity, Madame Fontaine ?" " Entirely through your kind sympathy, my friend," was the cool reply. " My sympathy ? What do you mean ?'* "Was it not you, David, who considerately thought of Minna when the post came in ? And did you not send the man-servant to us, with her letter from Fritz ?" The blubbering voice of Joseph, trembling for his situa- tion, on the landing outside, interrupted me before I could speak again. " I'm sure I meant no harm, sir. I only said I was in a hurry to get back, because you had all gone to the theatre, and I was left (with nobody but the kitchen girl) to take care of the house. When the lady came, and shoT\^ed me her drawing-book ' ' " That will do, friend Joseph," said the widow, signing to him to go downstairs in her easy self-possessed way. " Mr. David is too sensible to take notice of trifles. There ! there ! go down." She turned to me, with an expression of playful surprise. " How very serious you look !" she said gaily. *' It might have been serious for you, Madame Fontaine, if Mr. Keller had returned to the house to fetch his opera-glasa Limseli.'* JEZEBEL'S DAUGnTEll. 109 " All ! he lias left his opera-glass behind him ? Let me help you to look for it. I have done my sketch ; I am quite at your service." She forestalled me in finding the opera- glass. " I really had no other chance of making a study of the chimney-piece," she went on, as she handed the glass to ^ me. " Impossible to ask Mr. Engelman to let me in again, • after v^hat happened on the last occasion. And, if I must confess it, there is another motive besides my admiration for the chimney-i)iece. You know how poor we are. The man who keeps the picture-shop in the Zeil is willing to employ me. He can always sell these memorials of old Frankfort to English travellers. Even the few florins he gives me will find tvv'o half-starved women in housekeeping money for a week." It was all very plausible ; and perhaps (in my innocent days before I met with Frau Meyer) I might have thought it quite likely to be true. In my present frame of mind, I only asked the widow if I might see her sketch. She shook her head, and sheltered the drawing-book again under her shawl. " It is little better than a memorandum at present," she explained. " Wait till I have touched it up, and made it sale- able — and I will show it to you with pleasure. You will not make mischief, Mr. David, by mentioning my act of artistic invasion to either of the old gentlemen? It shall not be repeated — I give you my word of honour. There is poor Joseph, too. You don't want to ruin a well-meaning lad, by getting him turned out of his place ? Of course not ! We part as friends who understand each other, don't we ? Minna J would have sent her love and thanks, if she had known I was to meet you. Good night." She ran downstairs, humming a little tune to herself, aa blithe as a young girl. I heard a momentary whispering with Joseph in the hall. Then the house-door closed — and there was an end of Madame Fontaine for that time. no JEZEBEL} S DAUGHTER. After no very long reflection, I decided tliat my best courso TTOuld be to severely caution Joseph, and to say nothing to the partners of what had happened — for the present, at least. t should certainly do mischief, by setting the two old friends rit variance again on the subject of the widow, if I spoke ; to say nothing (as another result) of the likelihood of Joseph's dismissal by Mr. Keller. Actuated by these reasonable con- siderations, I am bound frankly to add that I must have felt some vague misgivings as well. Otherwise, why did I care- fully examine Mr. Keller's room (before I returned to the theatre), without any distinct idea of any conceivable dis- covery that I might make ? Not the vestige of a suspicious appearance rewarded my search. The room was in its cus- tomary state of order, from the razors and brushes on the toilet- table to the regular night- drink of barley-water, ready as usual in the jug by the bedside. I left the bedchamber at last. Why was I still not at my ease ? "Why was I rude enough, when I thought of the widow, to say to myself, " Damn her !" Why did I find Gluck's mag- nificent music grow wearisome from want of melody as it went on ? Let the learned in such things realise my position, and honour me by answering those questions for themselves. We were cjuite gay at supper ; the visit to the theatre had roused the spirits of the two partners, by means of a whole- some break in the monotony of their lives. I had seldom seen Mr. Keller so easy and so cheerful. Always an abste- mious man, he exercised his usual moderation in eating and drinking ; and he was the first to go to bed. But, while he was with us, he was, in the best sense of the word, a delightful companion ; and he looked forward to the next opera night with the glee of a schoolboy looking forward to a holiday. JEZEBEL'S JjAUainEll. Ill CHAPTER XVIII. The breakfast-room proved to be empty when I entered it the next morning. It was the first time in my expcrionce that I had failed to find Mr. Keller established at the table. He had hitherto set the example of early rising to his partnci and to myself. I had barely noticed his absence, when Mr. Engelman followed me into the room with a grave and anxious face, which proclaimed that something was amiss. "Where is Mr. Keller?" I asked. " In bed, David." "Not ill, I hope?" " I don't know what is the matter with him, my dear boy He says he has passed a bad night, and he can't leave his bed and attend to business as usual. Is it the close air of the theatre, do you think ?" " Suppose I make him a comfortable English cup of tea?'* I suggested. " Yes, yes ! And take it up yourself. I should like to know what you think of him." Mr. Keller alarmed me in the first moment when I looked l,t him. A dreadful apathy had possessed itself of this naturally restless and energetic man. He lay quite motion- less, except an intermittent trembling of his hands as they rested on the counterpane. His eyes opened for a moment when I spoke to him — then closed again as if the effort of looking at anything wearied him. He feebly shook his head when I offered him the cup of tea, and said in a fretful whisper, " Let me be !" I looked at his night-drink. The jug and glass were both completely empty. " Were you thirsty in tho night ?" In the same fretful whisper he answered, " Hor- ribly !" " Are you not thirsty now ?" He only repeated tho words he had first spoken — "Let me be!" There he lay, 112 JEZEBELS DAUGHTER. wanting nothing, caring for nothing ; his face looking pinched and wan already, and the intermittent trembling still at regular intervals shaking his helpless hands. We sent at once for the physician who had attended him in trifling^ illnesses at former dates. The doctor who is not honest enough to confess it when he is puzzled, is a well-known member of the medical profession in all countries. Our present physician was one of that sort. He pronounced the patient to be suffering from low (or ner- vous) fever — but it stnick Mr. Engelman, as it struck me, that he found himself obliged to say something, and said it without feeling sure of the correctness of his own statement. lie prescribed, and promised to pay us a second visit later in the day. Mother Barbara, the housekeeper, was already installed as nurse. Always a domestic despot, she made her tyranny felt even in the sick-room. She declared that she would leave the house if any other woman presumed to enter it as nurse. " When my master is ill," said Mother Barbara, " my master is my property." It was plainly impossible that a woman, at her advanced age, could keep watch at the bedside by day and night together. In the interests of peace we decided on vfaiting until the noxt day. If Mr. Keller showed no signs of improvement by that time, I undertook to inquire at the hospital for a qualified nurse. Later in the day, our doubts of the doctor were confirmed, lie betrayed his own perplexity in arriving at a true " dia- gnosis" of the patient's case, by bringing with him, at his second visit, a brother-physician, whom he introduced as Doctor Dormann, and with whom he asked leave to consult it the bedside. The new doctor was the younger, and evidently the firmer person of the two. His examination of the sick man was patient and careful in the extreme. He questioned us minutely about the period JEZEBEUS DAUailTEPu 113 at which the ilhiess had begun ; the state of Mr. Keller's health immediately before it ; the first symptoms noticed ; n'hat he had eaten, and what he had drunk ; and so on. Next, he desired to see all the inmates of the house who had access to the bed-chamber ; looking with steady scrutiny at (\\Q housekeeper, the footman, and the maid, as they followed each other into the room — and dismissing them again without remark. Lastly, he astounded his old colleague by propos- ing to administer an emetic. There was no prevailing on him to give his reasons. " If I prove to be right, you shall hear my reasons. If I prove to be wrong, I have only to say so, and no reasons will be required. Clear the room, administer the emetic, and keep the door locked till I come back." With those parting directions he hurried out of the house. " What can he mean ?" said Mr. Engelman, leading the way out of the bed-chamber. The elder doctor left in charge heard the words, and answered them, addressing himself, not to Mr. Engelman, but to me. He caught me by the arm, as I was leaving the room in my turn. " Poison !" the doctor whispered in my ear. " Keep it a secret ; that's what he means." I ran to my own bed-chamber and bolted myself in. At that one word, *' Poison," the atrocious suggestion of Frau Meyer, when she had referred to Doctor Fontaine's lost medicine- chest, instantly associated itself in my memory with Madame Fontaine's suspicious intrusion into Mr. Keller's room. Good God ! had I not surprised her standing close by the table on which the night-drink was set ? and had I not heard Doctor Dormann say, " That's unlucky," when he was told that the barley-water had been all drunk by the patient, and the jug and glass washed as usual ? For the 114 JEZEBEUS DAUGHTER. first few moments, I really thinli I must have been beside myself, so completely was I overpowered by tlie horror of my own suspicions. I had just sense enough to keep out o^ Mr. Engelman's way until I felt my mind restored in some degree to its customary balance. Recovering the power of thinking connectedly, I began to feel ashamed of the panic which had seized on me. What conceivable object had the widow to gain by Mr. Keller's death ? Her whole interest in her daughter's future centred, on the contrary, ir his living long enough to be made ashamed of his prejudices, and to give his consent to the marriage. To kill him for the purpose of removing Fritz from the influence of his father's authoi'ity would bo so atrocious an act in itself, and would so certainly separate Minna and Fritz for ever, in the perfectly possible event of a discovery, that I really recoiled from the contemplation of this contingency as I might have recoiled from deliberately disgracing myself. Doctor Dormann had rashly rushed at a false conclusion — that was the one comforting reflection that occurred to me. I threw open my door again in a frenzy of impatience to hear the decision, whichever way it might turn. The experiment had been tried in my absence. Mr. Keller had fallen into a broken slumber. Doctor Dormann was just closing the little bag in which he had brought his testing apparatus from his own house. Even now there was no prevailing on him to state his suspicions plainly " It's curious," he said, " to see how all mortal speculations on events, generally resolve themselves into threes Have tve given the emetic too late ? Are my tests insufficient ? Or have I made a complete mistake?" He turned to his elder colleague. " My dear doctor, I see you want a positive answer. No need to leave the room, Mr. Engelman ! Tou and the young English gentleman, your friend, must not ba JEZEBEDS DAUGHTER. 115 deeclvod for a single moment so far as I am concerned. I see in the patient a mysterious wasting of the vital powers, which is not accompanied by the symptoms of any disease known to me to which I can point as a cause. In plain words, I tell you I don't understand Mr. Keller's illness." It was perhaps through a motive of delicacy that he per- sisted in making a needless mystery of his suspicions. In any case he was evidently a man who despised all quackery from the bottom of his heart. The old doctor looked at him with a frown of disapproval, as if his frank confession had violated the unwritten laws of medical etiquette. "If you will allow me to watch the case," he resumed, "under the superintendence of my respected colleague, I shall be happy to submit to approval any j)alliative treatment which may occur to me. My respected colleague knows that I am always ready to learn." His respected colleague made a formal bow, looked at his watch, and hastened away to another patient. Doctor Dor- mann, taking up his hat, stopped to look at INIotlier Bar- Kara, fast asleep in her easy chair by the bedside. " I must find you a competent nnrse to-morrow," he said. ^' No, not one of the hospital women — we want some one with finer feelings and tenderer hands than theirs. In the mean- time, one of you must sit up with Mr. Keller to-night. If I am not wanted before, I will be with you to-morrow morning." I volunteered to keep watch ; promising to call Mr. Engel- man if any alarming symptoms showed themselves. The old housekeeper, waking after her first sleep, characteristically insisted on sending me to bed, and taking my place. I was too anxious and uneasy (if I may say it of myself) to be as compliant as usual. Mother Barbara, for once, found that she had a resolute person to deal with. At a less distressing time, there would have been something irresistibly comical 116 JEZEBEL'S DAUGHTER. in her rage and astonishment, when I settled the dispute by locking her out of the room. Soon afterwards Joseph came in with a message. If there were no immediate necessity for his presence in the bed- chamber, Mr. Engelman would go out to get a breath of fresh air, before he retired for the night. There was no necessity for his presence ; and I sent a message doAvnstairs to that effect. An hour later Mr. Engelman came in to see his old friend, ind to say good-night. After an interval of restlessness, the Euiferer had become composed, and was dozing again under the influence of his medicine. Making all allowances for the sorrow and anxiety which Mr. Engelman must necessarily feel under the circumstances, I thought his manner strangely ibsent and confused. He looked like a man with so mo burden on his mind which he was afraid to reveal and unable t-o throw off. "Somebody must be found, David, who does understand thfe case," he said, looking at the helpless figure on the bed. * Who can we find ?" I asked. He bade me good-night without answering. It is no exaggeration to say that I j^assed my night at the bedside in a miserable state of indecision and suspense. The doctor's experiment had failed to prove absolutely that the doctor*a doubts were without foundation. In this state of things, was it my bounden duty to tell the medical men what I had seen when I went back to the house to look for Mr. Keller's opera- glass. The more I thought of it, the more I recoiled from the idea of throwing a frightful suspicion on Minna's mother which would overshadow an innocent woman for the rest of her life. What proof had I that she had lied to me about the sketch and the mantelpiece ? And, without proof, how could I, how dare I, open my lips? I succeeded in deciding firmly enough for the alternative of silence, during tho JEZEBEL'S DAUGHTER. IVl intervals when nij attendance on the sick man was not required. But, when he wanted his medicine, when his pillows needed a little arrangement, when I saw his poor eyes open, and look at me vacantly — then my resolution failed me ; my indecision returned ; the horrid necessity of speaking showed itself again, and shook me to the soul. Never in the trials of later life have I passed such a night as that night at Mr. Keller's bedside. When the light of the new day shone in at the window, it was but too plainly visible that the symptoms had altered for the worse. The apathy was more profound, the wan pinched look of the face had increased, the intervals between the attacks of nervous trembling had grown sLortcr and shorter. Come what might of it, when Dr. Dormann paid his promised visit, I felt I was now bound to inform him that another person besides the servants and ourselves had obtained access secretly to Mr. Keller's roam. I was so completely worn out by agitation and want of sleep — and I showed it, I suppose, so plainly — that good !Mr. Engelman insisted on my leaving him in charge, and retiring to rest. I lay down on my bed, Avith the door of my room ajar, resolved to listen for the doctor's footsteps on the stairs, and to speak to him privately after he had seen the patient. If I had been twenty years older, I might have succeeded in carrying out my intention. But, with the young, sleep is a paramount necessity, and nature insists on obedience to its merciful law. I remember feeling drowsy ; starting up from the bed, and walking about my room, to keep myself awake ; then lying down again from sheer fatigue ; and after that- total oblivion ! When I woke, and looked at my watch, I found that I had been fcist asleep for no less than six hourS' Bewildered and ashameJ of myself — afraid to think of 118 JEZEBEL'S DAUGHTER. what might have happened in that long interval — I hurried to Mr. Keller's room, and softly knocked at the door. A woman's voice answered me, " Come in !" I paused with my hand on the door — the voice was familiar to me. I had a moment's doubt whether I was mad or dreaming. The voice softly repeated, " Come in !" I entered the room. There she was, seated at the bedside, smiling quietly and lifting her finger to her lips! As certainly as I saw the familiar objects in the room, and the prostrate figure on the bed, I saw — Madame Fontaine ' " Speak low,'' she said. " He sleeps veiy lightly; he must not be disturbed." I approached the bed and looked at him. There was a faint tinge of colour in his face ; there was moisture on his forehead ; his hands lay as still on the counterpane, in the blessed repose that possessed him, as the hands of a sleeping child. I looked round at ]\Iadame Fontaine. She smiled again ; my utter bewilderment seemed to amuse her. " He is left entirely to me, David," she said, looking tenderly at her patient. '' Go downstairs and see Mr. Eugelman. There must be no talking here." She lightly wiped the perspiration ^rom his forehead; lightly laid her fingers on his pulse — then reclined in the easy chair, with her ey^s fixed in silent interest on the sleeping man. She was the very ideal of the nurse -with fine feelings and tendei uands, contemplated by Doctor Dormann when I had last seen him. Any stranger looking into the room at that moment would have said, " What a charming picture ! What a devoted wife T' JKZhlbEUS UAVGHTEH. ng CHAPTER XIX. ** A TUMBLER of the old Marcobi'unner, David, and a slice of tlie game pie — before I say one word about what we owe to that angel upstairs. Off Avith the wine, my dear boy ; you look as pale as death !" With those words Mr. Engelman lit his pipe, and waited in silence until the good eating and drinking had done their good work. "Now carry your mind back to last night," he began. " You remember my going out to get a breath of fresh air. Can you guess what that meant ?" I guessed of course that it meant a visit to Madame Fon- taine. " Quite right, David. I promised to call on her earlier in the day ; but poor Keller's illness made that impossible. She wrote to me under the impression that something serious must have happened to prevent me, for the first time, from keeping an appointment that I had made with her. When I left you I went to answer her note personally. She was not only distressed to hear of Mr. Keller's illness, she was in- terested enough in my sad news to ask particularly in whaC- form the illness declared itself. When I mentioned what the symptoms were, she showed an agitation which took me quite by surprise. ' Do the doctors understand what is the matter with him ?' she asked. I told her that one of the doctors was evidently puzzled, and that the other had acknow- ledged that the malady was so far incomprehensible to him. She clasped her hands in despair — she said, * Oh, if my poor husband had been alive !* I naturally asked what she meant. I wish I could give her explanation, David, in her own delightful words. It came in substance to this. Some per- Bon in her husband's employment at the University of Wiirz- 120 JEZEBEUS DAUGHTER. burg had been attacked by a inaladj presenting exactly tlie same symptoms from which Mr. Keller was suffering. The medical men had been just as much at a loss what to do as our medical men. Alone among them Doctor Fontaine un- derstood the case. He made np the medicine that he admi- nistered with his own hand. Madame Fontaine, under her husband's instructions, assisted in nursing the sick man, and in giving the nourishment prescribed when he was able to eat. His extraordinary recovery is remembered in the Uni- versity to this day." I interrupted Mr. Engelman at that point. " Of course you asked her for the prescription ?" I said. " I begin to understand it now." *' No, David ; you don't understand it yet. I certainly asked her for the prescrij^tion. No such thing was known to be in existence — she reminded me that her husband had made up the medicine himself. But she remembered that the results had exceeded his anticipations, and that only a part of the remedy had been used. The bottle might still perhaps be found at Wiirzburg. Or it might be in a small portmanteau belonging to her husband, which she had found in his bedroom, and had brought away with her, to be examined at some future time. * I have not had the heart to open it yet,' she said ; * but for Mr. Keller's sake, I will look it over before you go away.' There is a Christian woman, David, if ever there was one yet ! After the manner in which poor Keller had treated her, she was as eager to help him as if he had been her dearest friend. Minna offered to take her place. * "Wliy should you distress yourself, mamma ?' she said. * Tell me what the bottle is like, and let me try if I can find it.' No ! It was quite enough for Madame Fon- taine that there was an act of mercy to be done. At an^ sacrifice of her own feelings, she was prepared to do it." I interrupted him again, eager to hear the end. JEZEBEUS DAUGHTER. 121 « And she found the bottle ?" I said. " She found the bottle," Mr. Engeluian resumed. "I can show it to you, if you like. She has herself requested me to keep it under lock and key, so long as it is Avanted in this house.'* He opened an old cabinet, and took out a long narrow bottle of dark-blue glass. In form, it was quaintly and remarkably unlike any modern bottle that I had ever seen. The glass stopper was carefully secured by a piece of leather, for the better preservation, I suppose, of the liquid inside. Down one side of the bottle ran a narrow strip of paper, notched at rc:rular intervals to indicate the dose tliat was to be given. No label appeared on it ; but, examining the sur- face of the glass carefully, I found certain faintly-marked stains, which suggested that the label might have been removed, and that some traces of the paste or gum by which it had been secured had not been completely washed av/ay. I held the bottle up to the light, and found that it was still nearly half full. Mr. Engelman forbade mc to remove tho stopper. It was very important, he said, that no air should be admitted to the bottle, except when there was an actual necessity for administering the remedy. " I took it away with mo the same night," he went on. "And a wretched state of mind I was in, between my anxiety to give the medicine to poor dear Keller immediately, and my fear of taking such a serious responsibility entirely on myself. Madame Fontaine, always just in her views, said> 'You had better wait and consult the doctors.' She made but one condition (the generous creature !) relating to herself. * If the remedy is tried,' she said, * I must ask you to give it a fair chance by permitting me to act as nurse ; the treatmen«i of the patient when he begins to feel the benefit of the medicine is of serious importance. I know this from my husband's iurilructions, and it is due to his memory (to say 122 JEZEBEVS DAUGHTER. nothing of what is due to Mr. Keller) that I should be at the bedside.' It is needless to say that I joyfully accepted the tffered help. So the night passed. The next morning, soon after you fell asleep, the doctors came. You may imagine what they thought of poor Keller, when I tell you that they recommended me to write instantly to Fritz in London sum- moning him to his father's bedside. I was just in time to catch the special mail which left this morning. Don't blame me, David. I could not feel absolutely sure of the new medicine ; and, with time of such terrible importance, and London so far off, I was really afraid to miss a post." I was far from blaming him — and I said so. In his place I should have done what he did. We arranged that I should write to Fritz by that night's mail, on the chance that my announcement of the better news might reach him before he left London. "My letter despatched," Mr. Engelman continued, "I begged both the doctors to speak with me before they went away, in my private room. There I told them, in the plainest words I could find, exactly what I have told you. Doctor Dormann behaved like a gentleman. lie said, * Let me see the lady, and speak to her myself, before the new remedy is tried.' As for the other, what do you think he did ? Walked out of the house (the old brute !) and declined any further attendance on the patient. And who do you think followed him out of the house, David, when I sent for Madame Fon- taine ? Another old brute — Mother Barbara !" After what I had seen myself of the housekeeper's temj^er on the previous evening, this last piece of news failed to sur- prise me. To be stripped of her authority as nurse in favour of a stranger, and that stranger a handsome lady, was an ao; Mr. Engelmau and Minna were the other witnesses of the Bccne. Mr. Engelmau had his claim to be present as an old friend ; and Minna was to be made useful, at her mother's suggestion, as a means of gently preparing Mr. Keller's mind for the revelation that was to come. Under these circum- stances, I can only describe what took place, by repeating the httlj niirr.it jve v.ith which Minna favoured me, after she had leCt the room. JEZEBEL'S DAUGHTER. 125 "We arranged that I should wait downstairs," she said, "until I heard the bedroom bell ring — and then I myself tvas t'l take up Mr. Keller's dinner of lentils and cream, an(? put it on his table without saying a word." " Exactly like a servant !" I exclaimed. Gentle sweet-tempered Minna answered my foolish inter- ruption with her customary simplicity and good sense. *' Why not ?" she asked. " Fritz's father may one day be my father; and I am happy to be of the smallest use to him, whenever he wants me. Well, when I went in, I found him in his chair, with the light let into the room, and with plenty of pillows to support him. Mr. Engelman and the doctor were on either side of him ; and poor dear mamma was standing back in a corner behind the bed, where he could not see her. He looked up at me, when I came in with my tray. ' Who's this ?* he asked of Mr. Engelman — * is she a new servant ?* Mr. Engelman, humouring him, answered, ' Yes.' ' A nice-looking girl,' he said ; ' but what does Mother Barbara say to her ?* Upon this, Mr. Engelman told him how the housekeeper had left her place and why. As soon as he had recovered his surprise, he looked at me again. * But who has been my nurse ?' he inquired ; * surely not this young girl ?' * No, no ; the young girl's mother has nursed you,' said Mr. Engelman. He looked at the doctor as ho Bpoke ; and the doctor interfered for the first time. * She has not only nursed you, sir,' he said ; * I can certify medi- cally that she has saved your life. Don't excite yourself. You shall hear exactly how it happened.' In two minutes, he told the whole story, so clearly and beautifully that it was quite a pleasure to hear him. Oiio ciiing only he concealed — the name. 'Who is she?' Mr. Kollor cri(>d out. 'Why am T not allowed to express my gratitude? Why isn't she here?' * She is afraid to approach you, sir,' said the doctor ; ' you have a very bad opinion of her.' *A bad opinion,* Mr. 128 JEZEBEL* S DAUGHTER. Keller repeated, * of a woman I don't know ? Who is tlie slanderer who has said that of me ?' The doctor signed to Mr. Engelman to answer. * Speak plainly,' he whispered^ behind the chair. Mr. Engelman did speak plainly. * Pardon me, my dear Keller, there is no slanderer in this matter. Yonr own action has spoken for you. A short time since — try if you cannot remember it yourself — a lady sent a letter to you; and you sent the letter back to her, refusing to read it. Do you know how she has returned the insult ? That noble creature is the woman to whom you owe your life.' When he had said those words, the doctor crossed the room, and returned again to Mr. Keller, leading my mother by the hand." Minna's voice faltered ; she stopped at the most interest- ing part of her narrative. " What did Mr. Keller say?" I asked. " There was silence in the room," Minna answered softly. " I heard nothing except the ticking of the clock." "But you must have seen something ?" " No, David. I couldn't help it — I was crying. After a while, my mother put her arui round me and led me to Mr. Keller. I dried my eyes as well as I could, and saw him again. His head was bent down on his breast — his hands hung helpless over the arms of the chair — it was dreadful to see him so overwhelmed by shame and sorrow ! * What can I do ?' he groaned to himself. ' God help me, what can I do?' Mamma spoke to him — so sweetly and so prettily — * You can give this poor girl of mine a kiss, sir ; the now servant who has waited on you is my daughter Minna.' He looked up quickly, and drew me to him. * I can make but one atonement, my dear,' he said — and then he kissed mo, and whispered, * Send for Fritz.' Oh, don't ask me to tell you any more, David; I shall only begin crying again — and I am so happy l" JEZEBEL'S DAUGHTER. 127 Slie left me to write to Fritz by that niglit's post. I tried vainly to induce lior to wait a little. Wo liad no electric telegraphs at our disposal, and we were reduced to guessing at events. But there was certainly a strong probability that Fritz might have left London immediately on the receipt of Mr. Engelman*s letter, announcing that his father was dangerously ill. In this case, my letter, despatched by the next mail to relieve his anxiety, would be left unopened in London ; and Fritz might be expected to arrive (if he travelled without stopping) in the course of the next day or two. I put this reasonable view of the matter to Minna, and received a thoroughly irrational and. womanly rejily. " I don't care, David; I shall write to him, for all that.'* "Why?" " Because I like writing to him.'* " What ! whether he receives your letter or not ?" "Whether he receives it or not," she answered saucily, " I shall have the pleasure of writing to him — that is all I want." She covered four pages of note-paper, and insisted on posting them herself. The next morning Mr. Keller was able, with my help and Mr. Engelman's, to get downstairs to the sitting-room. We were both with him, when Madame Fontaine came in. " Well," he ashed, " have you brought it with you?'* She handed to him a sealed envelope, and then turned to explain herself to me. " The letter that you put on Mr. Keller's desk," she said pleasantly. *' This time, David, I act as my own postman— at Mr. Keller's request." In her place, I should certainly have torn it up. To keej it, on the bare chance of its proving to be of some use in lliQ future, seemed to imply either an excessive hopefulness or an extraordinary foresight, ou the widow's part. Without in th< i2a JEZEBEL'S DAUGHTER. least comprelieiiding my own state of mind, I felt that she had, in gome mysterious way, disappointed me by keeping that letter. As a matter of course, I turned to leave the room, and Mr. Engelman (from a similar motive of delicacy) followed me to the door. Mr. Keller called us both back. " Wait, if you please," he said, " until I have read it.'' Madame Fontaine was looking out of the window. It was impossible for us to discover whether she approved of our remaining in the room or not. Mr. Keller read the closely written pages with the steadiest attention. He signed to the widow to approach him, and took her hand when he had arrived at the last words. " Let me ask your pardon," he said, " in the presence of my partner aud in the presence of David Glenney, who took charge of your letter. Madame Fontaine, I speak the plain truth, in the plainest words, when I tell you that I am ashamed of myself.'* She dropped on her knees before him, and entreated him to say no more. Mr. Engelman looked at her, absorbed in admiration. Perhaps it was the fault of my English educa- tion — I thought the widow's humility a little overdone. ^Yhat Mr. Keller's opinion might be, he kept to himself! Ee merely insisted on her rising, and taking a chair by his side. " To say that I believe every word of your letter," he resumed, "is only to do you the justice which I have too long delayed. But there is one passage which I must feel satisfied that I thoroughly understand, if you will be pleased to give me the assurance of it with your own lips. Am I right in concluding, from what is here vfritten of your husband's creditors, that his debts (which have now, in honour, be- come your debts) have been all actually paid to the last farthing?" " To the last farthing !" Madame Fontaine answered, JEZEBEL'S DAV OUTER, 129 Without a moment's hesitation. "I can show you the receipts, sir, if you like." *' No, madam ! I talie your word for it — I require nothing more. Your title to my heart-felt respect is now complete. The slanders which I have disgraced myself by believing would never have found their way to my credulity, if they had not first declared you to have ruined your husband by your debts. I own that I have never been able to divest myself of my inbred dislike and distrust of people who con- tract debts which they are not able to pay. The light manner in which the world is apt to view the relative positions of debtor and creditor is abhorrent to me. If I promise to pay a man money, and fail to keep my promise, I am no better than a liar and a cheat. That always has been, and always will be, my view." He took her hand again as he made that strong declaration. " There is another bond of sympathy between us," he said warmly ; " you think as I do." Good Heavens, if Frau Meyer had told me the truth, what would happen when Madame Fontaine discovered that her promissory note was in the hands of a stranger — a man who would inexorably present it for payment on the day when it fell due? I tried to persuade myself that Frau Meyer had not told me the truth. Perhaps I might have succeeded — but for my remembrance of the disreputabie- looking stranger on the door-step, who had been so curious to know if Madame Fontaine intended to leave her lodgings. CHAPTER XXI. 1'he next day, my calculation of possibilities in the matter of Fritz turned out to be correct. Returning to Main Street, after a short absence from the house, the door was precipitately opened to me by Minna. K 180 JEZEBEUS DAUGRTER, Before she could say a word, her face told me the joyful news. Before I could congratulate her, Fritz himself burst headlong into the hall, and made one of his desperate attempts at embracing me. This time I succeeded (being the shorter man of the two) in slipping through his arms in the nick of time. " Do you want to kiss me," I exclaimed, " when Minna is in the house !" *'I have been kissing Minna," Fritz answered with perfect gravity, " until we are both of us out of breath. I look upon you as a sort of safety-valve." At this, Minna's charming face became eloquent in another way. I only waited to ask for news of my aunt before I withdrew. Mrs. Wagner was already on the road to Frank- fort, following Fritz by easy stages. "And where is Jack Straw?" I inquired. " Travelling with her," said Fritz. Having received this last extraordinary piece of intelligence, I put off all explanations until a fitter opportunity, and left the lovers together until dinner-time. It was one of the last fine days of the autumn. The sun- shine tempted me to take a turn in Mr. Engelman's garden. A shrubbery of evergreens divided the lawn near the house from the flower-beds which occupied the further extremity of the plot of groimd. While I was on one side of tlie shrub- bery, I heard the voices of Mr. Keller and Madame Fontaine on the other side. Then, and then only, I remembered that the doctor had suggested a little walking exercise for the invalid, while the sun was at its warmest in the first hours of the afternoon. Madame Fontaine was in attendance, in the absence of Mr. Engelman, engaged in the duties of the office. I Lad just turned back again towards the house, thinking ^•better not to disturb them, when I heard my name on the JEZEBEDS DAUGHTER. 131 widow's lips. Better men tlian I, under stress of temptation, have been known to commit actions unworthy of them. I was mean enough to listen ; and I paid the proverbial penalty for gratifying my curiosity — I heard no good of myself. \ " You have honoured me by asking my advice, sir," I heard Madame Fontaine say. " With regard to young David Glenney, I can speak quite impartially. In a few days more, if I can be of no further use to you, I shall have left the house.'* Mr. Keller interrupted her there. " Pardon me, Madame Fontaine ; I cnn't let you talk of leaving us. We are without a housekeeper, as you know. You will confer a favour on me and on Mr. Engelman, if you will kindly undertake the direction of our domestic affairs — for the present, at least. Besides, your charming daughter is the light of our household. What will Fritz say, if you take her away just when he has come home ? No ! no ! you and Minna must stay with us." "You are only too good to me, sir! Perhaps I had better ascertain what Mr. Engelman's wishes are, before wo decide ?" Mr. Keller laughed — and, more extraordinary still, Mr. Keller made a little joke. " My dear madam, if you don't know what Mr. Engelman's wishes are likely to be, without asking him, you are the most unobservant lady that ever lived! Speak to him, by all means, if you think it formally necessary — and let us return to the question of taking David Grlenney into our office here. " A letter which he has lately received from Mrs. Wagner expresses no intention of recalling him to Loudon— and he has managed so cleverly in a business matter which I confided to him, that he would really be an acquisition to us. Besides (until the marriage takes place), he would be a companion for Fritz,*' 132 JEZEBEDS DAUGHTER, " Thcat is exactly where I feel a difficulty/* Madame Fon- taine replied. " To my mind, sir, Mr. David is not at all a desirable companion for your son. The admirable candour and simplicity of Fritz's disposition might suffer by association with a person of Mr. David's very peculiar character." *•' May I ask, Madame Fontaine, in what you think his character peculiar?" " I will endeavour to express what I feel, sir. You have spolren of his cleverness. I venture to say that he is too tlever. And I have observed that he is — for a young man — far too easily moved to suspect others. Do I make myself understood?" " Perfectly. Pray go on." " I find, Mr. Keller, that there is something of the Jesuit about our young friend. lie has a way of refining on trifles, and seeing under the surface, where nothing is to be seen. Don't attach too much importance to what I say ! It is quite likely that I am influenced by the popular prejudice against * old heads on young shoulders.' At the same time, I confess I wouldn't keep him here, if I were in your place. Shall we move a little further on?'* Madame Fontaine was, I daresay, perfectly right in her estimate of me. Looking back at the pages of this narrative, I discover some places in which I certainly appear to justify her opinion. I even justified it at the time. Before she and Mr. Keller were out of my hearing, I began " to see under the surface," and "to refine" on what she had said. "Was it Jesuitical to doubt the disinterestedness of her advice ? I did doubt it. Was it Jesuitical to suspect that she privately distrusted me, and had reasons of her own for keeping me out of her way, at the safe distance of London ? ^ did suspect it. And yet she was such a good Christian ! And yet she had BO nobly and so undeniably saved Mr. Keller's life ! What JEZEBEL'S DAUGHTER. 183 riglit had I to impute sclf-seeldn^i,^ motivea to such a Y7omari as this ? Mean ! mean ! there was no excuse for me. I turned back to the house, with my head feeling very old on my young shoulders. U.Iadarae Fontaine's manner to me was so charming, v/hen we all met at the dinner-table, that I fell into a cou'lition of remorseful silence. Fortunately, Fritz took most of the talking on himself, and the general attention was diverted from me. His high spirits, his boisterous nonsense, his con- tempt for all lawful forms and ceremonies which placed impediments in the way of his speedy marriage, were amu- singly contrasted by Dtlr. Engelman's courteous simplicity in trying to argue the question seriously with his reckless yoang friend. " Don't talk to me about the customary delays and the parson's duty !" cried Fritz. " Tell me this : does he d j his duty without being paid for it?" " We must all live," pleaded good Mr. Engelman ; " the parson must pay the butcher and the baker, like the rc3t of us." " That's shirking the question, my dear sir ! "Will the parson marry Minna and me, v/ithout being paid for it?" '' In all civilised countries, Fritz, there are fees for the performance of the marriage ceremony." " Very well. Now follow my train of reasoning, Mr. Engel- man ! On your own showing, the whole affah- is a matter of money. The parson gets his fee for making Minna my wife, after the customary delays." There Minna modestly interposed. "Why do you object to the customary delays, dear Fritz ?" " I'll tell you, my angel, when we are married. In the meantime, I resume my train of reasoning, and I entreat Mr. Engelman not to forget that this is a matter of money. Idake it worth the parson's while to marry us, ivithoiit tho 18i JEZEBEVS DAUGHTER, customary delays. Double his fee, treble his fee — give him ten times his fee. It's merely a question of what his reve- rence can resist. My father is a rich man. Favour me with a blank cheque, papa — and I will make Minna Mrs. Keller before the end of the week !'* The father, hitherto content to listen and be amused, !checked the son's How of nonsense at this point. " There is a time for everything, Fritz," he said. '^ V\'e have had laughing enough. When you talk of your marriage, I am sorry to observe that you entirely pass over the consi- deration which is due to your father's only surviving relative." Madame Fontaine laid down her knife and fork as if her dinner had come to an end. The sudden appearance in the conversation of the " surviving relative," had evidently taken her by surj^rise. Mr. Keller, observing her, turned away from his son, and addressed himself exclusively to the widow when he sj)oke next. "I referred, Madame Fontaine, to my elder sister," he said. " She and I are the sole survivors of a large family." " Does the lady live in this city, sir ?" the widow inquired. " No, she still lives in our birfchj^lace — Munich." " May I ask another question ?" " As many questions, dear madam, as you like.'* *' Is your sister married ?" *' My sister has never been married." " Not for want of suitors," said courteous Mr. Engelraan. "A most majestic person. Witty and accomplished. Pos- sessed of an enviable little fortune, entirely at her own disposal." Mr. Keller gently reproved this latter allusion to the question of money. JEZEBEL'S DA UGHTER, I35 " My good friend, Madame Fontaine has a mind above all mercenary considerations. My sister's place in her esteem and regard will not be influenced by my sister's fortune, when they meet (as I hope they will meet) at Fritz's marriage." I At this, Fritz burst into the conversation in his usual '■ headlon^^ way. j " Oh, dciir me, papa, have some consideration for us ! If we wait for my aunt, we shall never be married on this side of Ciernity." ^'FritzV' " Don't be angry, sir, I meant no harm. I was thinking of my aunt's asthma. At her age, she will never take the long journey from Munich to Frankfort. Permit me to offer a suggestion. Let us be married first, and then pay her a visit in the honeymoon." Mr. Keller passed his son's suggestion over without notice, and addressed himself once more to Madame Fontaine. " I propose writing to my sister in a day or two," he re- sumed, " to inform her of the contemj^lated marriage. She already knows your name through Mr. Engelman, who kindly wrote to allay her anxiety about my illness." " And to tell her," Mr. Engelman interposed, " to whoso devotion he owes his recovery." The widow received this tribute with eyes fixed modestly on her plate. Her black dress, rising and falling over her bosom, betrayed an agitation, which her enemies at Wiirzburg might have attributed to the discovery of the rich sister at Munich. Mr. Keller went on— " I am sure I may trust to your womanly sympathies to understand the affection wdiich binds me to my last living relative. My sister's presence at the marriage will be an inexpressible comfort and happiness to me. In spite of what my son has said (you are sadly given to talking at random, 136 JEZEDEUS DAUGHTER, jfritz), I believe slie will not shrink from the journey to Frankfort, if we only make it easier to her by consulting her health and convenience. Our young people have all their lives before them — our young people can wait." " Certainly, sir.'* She gave that short answer very quietly, with her eyes still on her plate. It was impossible to discover in what frame of mind she viewed the prospect of delay, involved in Mr. Keller's consideration for his sister. For the moment, Fritz was simply confounded. He looked at Minna — recovered himself — and favoured his father with another suggestion. " I have got it now !" he exclaimed. " Why not spare my aunt the fatigue of the journey ? Let us all start for Bavaria to-morrow, and have the marriage at Munich !'* "And leave the business at Frankfort to take care of itself, at the busiest time of the year!'* his father added ironically. " AVhen you open your mouth again, Fritz, put food and drink into it — and confine yourself to that." With those words the question of the marriage was closed for the time. When dinner was over, Mr. Keller retired, to take some rest in his own room. Fritz and his sweetheart left the house together, on an errand in which they were both equally interested — the purchase of the ring which was to typify Minna's engagement. Left alone with Mr. Engelman and the widow, I felt that I might be an obstacle to confidentiul conversation, and withdrew to the office. Though not regu- larly employed as one of the clerks, I had been admitted to serve as a volunteer, since my return from Hanau. In this way, I improved my experience of the details of our business, and I made some small return for the hospitable welcome which I had received from the two partners. Half an hour or more had passed, when some papers arrived from the bank, which required the signature of th^ JEZEBEFJS DAUGHTER. 137 firm. Mr. Engclman being still absent, tlie licad-clerk, at my suggestion, proceeded to the dining-room with the papers in his charge. IIo came bad' again imniediatelj, looking very much alarmed. " Pray go into '"- l-'^ing-room!" he said to mo. "I am afraid something is EL_^..oIy v/rong with Mr. Engclman." " Do you mean that he is ill f " I ashed. "I can hardly say. Ilis arms .ire stretched out on the table, a.nd his face is hidden on them^. He paid no attcnlion to me. I am almost afraid he was crying." Crying? I had left him in excellent spirits, ca^tiiig glances of the tcnderest admiration at Madame Fontaine. "Without waiting to hear more, I ran to the dining-room- He was alone — in the position described by the clorl; — • and, poor old man, he was indeed weeping bitterly ! I put my hand with all possible gentleness on his shoulder, and eaid, with the tenderness that I really felt for him : " Dear Mr. Engelman, what has happened to distress you ?" At the sound of my voice he looked up, and cauglit mo fervently by the hand. " Stay here with me a little while, David," he said. *' I have got my death-blow." I sat down by him directly. " Try and tell me what has happened," I went on. "I left you hero v.'ith Madame Fontaine " His tears suddenly ceased ; his hand closed convulbively on mine. " Don't speak of her," he cried, with an outbtn-r t of anger. " You were right about her, David. She is a false woman." As the words passed his lips, he changed again. His voice faltered ; he seemed to be frightened by his own violent language. " Oh, what am I talking about ! what right have I to say that of her ! I am a brute — I am reviling th^ best of women. It was all mj fault, David-^I have actc5 138 JEZEBELS DAUGHTER. like a madman, like a fool. Oh, my boy ! my boy ! — would you believe it ? — I asked her to marry me !" It is needless to say that I wanted no further explanation. "Did she encourage you to ask her?" I inquired. " I thought she did, David — I thought I would be clever and seize the opportunity. She said she wanted to consult me. She said : * Mr. Keller has asked me to stay here, and keep house for you ; I have not given my answer yet, I have waited to know if you approved it.* Upon that, I sai'.' the rash v/ords. I asked her to be more than our house- keeper — to be my wife. I am naturally stupid," said the poor simple gentleman; "whenever I try to do anything clever I always fail. She was very forbearing with me at first ; she said No, but she said it considerately, as if she felt for me. I presumed on her kindness, like a fool ; I couldn't help it, David, I was so fond of her. I pressed her to say why she refused me. I was mad enough to ask if there was some other man whom she preferred. Oh, she said some hard things to me in her anger ! And, worse still, when I went down on my knees to her, she said, * Get up, you old fool !' — and laughed — and left me. Take me away somewhere, David ; I am too old to get over it, if I stay here. I can never see her or speak to her again. Take me to England with you — and, oh, don't tell Keller!" He burst into another fit of tears. It was dreadful to see and hear him. I tried to think of some consoling -^yords. Before I could give expression to my thought, the door of the room was gently opened ; and Madame Fontaine herself stood before us. Her eyes looked at Mr. Engelman from under their heavy lids, with a quiet and scornful compassion. The poor wretch was of no further use to her. Quite needless to be on her best behaviour with him now ! " There is not the least occasiou, sir, to disturb yourself, ' JEZEBEUS DAUGHTER. 139 Blie said. " It is my duty to leave tho house — and I will do it." Without waiting to bo answered, sTio turned back to the door, and left us. CHAPTEIL XXIL " Foil heaven's sate, sir, allow me to go 1" " On no account, Madame Fontaine. If you vv^on't remain here, in justice to yourself, remain as a favour to me." ^Vhen I opened my bedroom door the next morning, the rridow and Mr. Keller were on the landing outside, and those were the words exchanged between them. Mr. Keller apj^roached, and spoke to me. " What do you know, David, about the disappearance of Mr. Engelman?'* "Disappearance?" I repeated. "I was with him yes- terday evening — and I bade him good-night in his own room." " He must have left the house before the servants were up this morning," said Mr. Keller. " Eead that.'* He handed me a morsel of paper with writing on it in pencil : — " Forgive mo, dear friend and partner, for leaving you without saying good-bye ; also for burdening you with the direction of business, before you are perhaps strong enough to accept the charge. My mind is in such a state of con- fusion that I should be worse than useless in the ollice. While I write this, my poor weak head burns as if there was fire in it. I cannot face lier^ I cannot face you — I must go, before I lose all control over myself. Don't attempt to traco me. If change and absence restore me to myself I "vvili return. If not, a man at my age and in my state of mind is vfillincr to die. Please tell Madame Fontaine that I ask her UO JEZEBELS DAUGHTER, pardon with all my heart. Good-bye — and God bless aniJ prosper you." I was unaffectedly distressed. There was something terrible in this sudden break-up of poor Engelman's harm- less life — something cruel and shocking in the passion oi love fixing its relentless hold on an innocent old man, fast ncaring the end of his days. There are hundreds of examples of this deplorable anomaly in real life ; and yet, when we meet with it in our ovrn experience, we are always taken by surprise, and always ready to express doubt or derision when we hear of it in the experience of others. Madame Fontaine behaved admiral^ly. She sat dov/n on the window-seat at the end of the landing, and wrung her hands with a gesture of despair. ** Oh !" she said, " if he had asked me for anything else ! If I could have made any other sacrifice to him ! God knows I never dreamed of it; I never gave him the smallest encouragement. TV"e might have all been so happy together here — and I, who would have gone to the world's end to serve Mr. Keller and Mr. Engelman, I am the unhappy creature who has broken up the household !" Mr. Keller was deeply affected. Ho sat down on the window-seat by Madame Fontaine. " i\Iy dear, dear lady," he said, " you arc entirely blameless in this matter. Even my unfortunate partner feels it, and asks your pardon. If inquiries can discover him, they shall be set on foot immediately. In the meantime, lot me entreat you to compose yourself. Engelman has perhaps done wisely, to leave us for a time. He will get over his delusion, and all may be woll yet." I went downstairs, not caring to hear more. All my sympathies, I confess, were with Mr. Engelman — though he was a fat simple old man. Mr, Keller seemed to me (here is more of the " old head on young shoulders !") to have gon9 JEZEBEVS DAUGHTER. 141 fi'oin one extreme to the other. He had begun by treating the widow with unbecoming injustice ; and he was now flattering her with unreasonable partiality. For the next few days there was tranquillity, if not happi- ness, in the house. Mr. Keller wrote to his sister at Munich, inviting her to mention the earliest date at which it might suit her convenience to be present at the marriage of his son Madame Fontaine assumed the regular management of our domestic affairs. Fritz and Minna found sufficient attraction in each other's society. The new week was just beginumg, and our inquiries after Mr. Eugelman had thus far led to no result — when I received a letter containing news of the fugitive, confided to me imder strict reserve. The writer of the letter proved to be a married younger brother of Mr. Engelman, residing at Bingcn, on the Ehine. " I write to you, dear sir, at my brother's request. My wife and I are doing all that we can to relieve and comfort him, but his mind has not yet sufficiently recovered to enable him to write to you himself. He desires to thank you heartily for your sympathy, at the most trying period of his life ; and he trusts to your kindness to let him hear, from time to time, of Mr. Keller's progress towards recovery, and of the wellbeing of the business. In addressing your letters to me at Bingen, you will be pleased to consider the infor- mation of my brother's whereabouts herein afforded to you as strictly confidential, until you hear from me to the con- trary. In his present frame of mind, it would be in the last degree painful to him to be made the subject of inquiries, remonstrances, or entreaties to return.'* The arrival of this sad news proved to be not the only noteworthy event of the day. While I was still thinking of poor Mr. Engelman, Fritz came into the office with his ha I in his hand^ 142 JEZEBEL'S DAUGHTER, " Minna is not in very good spirits this morning," he said ** I am going to take lier out for half an hour to look at tba shops. Can you come with us?'* This invitation rather surprised me. " Does Minna wish it ?" I asked. Fritz dropped his voice so that the clerks in the room could not hear his reply. " Minna has sent me to you," he answered. " She is uneasy about her mother. I can make nothing of it — and she wants to ask your advice." It was impossible for me to leave my desk at that moment* We arranged to put off the walk until after dinner. During the meal, I observed that not Minna only, but her mother also, appeared to be out of spirits. Mr. Keller and Fritz probably noticed the change as I did. We were all of us more silent than usual. It was a relief to find myself with the lovers, out in the cheerful street. Minna seemed to want to be encouraged before she could speak to me. I was obliged to ask in plain words if anything had hapj^ened to annoy her mother and her- self. " I hardly know how to tell you," she said. " I am very unhappy about my mother." *' Begin at the beginning," Fritz suggested; "t.pll him where you went, and what happened yesterday." Minna followed her instructions. " Mamma and I went to our lodgings yesterday," she began. "We had given notice to leave when it was settled we were to live in Mr. Keller's house. The time was nearly up ; and there were some few things still left at the apartments, which we could carry away in our hands. Mamma, who speaks considerately to every- body, said she hoped the landlady would soon let the rooma again. The good woman answered : * I don't quite know, madam, whether I have not let them already.' — Don't you think that rather a strange reply?" JEZEDEDS DAUGBTER, I43 " It seems to require some explanation, certainly. What did the landlady say ?" " The landlady's explanation explained nothing," Fritz interposed. " She appears to have spoken of a mysterious stranger, who had once before inquired if Madame Fontaine was likely to leave the lodgings — and who came yesterday to inquire again. You tell him the rest of it, Minna." Before she could speak, I had already recognised the suspicious-looking personage whom Mr. Engelman and I had some time since encountered on the door-step. I inc^uired what the man had said when he heard that the lodgings were to let. " There is the suspicious part of it," cried Fritz. " Be very particular, Minna, to leave nothing out." Fritz's interruptions seemed only to confuse Minna. I begged him to be silent, and did my best to help her to find the lost thread of her story. "Did the man ask to see the lodgings?" I said. "No." " Did he talk of takinc: the loclfrini?s ?" " He said he wished to have the refusal of them until the evening," Minna replied ; '' and then he asked if Madame Fontaine had left Fraukfort. When the landlady said No, he had another question ready directly. lie wanted to know in v/hat part of Frankfort Madame Fontaine was now living.' " And the old fool of a landlady actually told him the address," said Fritz, interrupting again. " And, I am afraid, did some serious mischief by her folly," Ttliuna added. " I saw mamma start and tuni pale. She Eaid to the landlady, ' How long ago did this happen ?' ' About half an hour ago,' the landlady answered. 'Which way did he turn when he left you — towards Mr. Keller's house or the other way?' The landlady said, * Towards Mr. Keller's house.' Without another word, mamma took Ui JEZEBEL'S DAUGHTER. me by the arm. * It's time we were liome again,* slie said— and we went back at once to tlic house." "You were too late, of course, to find the man there?*' " Yes, David — but we heard of him. Mamma asked Joseph II p„ny one had called while we were out. Joseph said a stranger had called, and had inquired ii Madame Fontaine was at home. Hearing that she was out, he had said, ' I think I had better write to her. She is here for a short time onlj, I believe ?' And innocent Joseph answered, * Oh, dear no ! Madame Fontaine is Mr. Keller's new housekeeper.' * AYell r' mamma asked, * and what did he say when he heard that ?' * He said nothing,' Joseph answered, ' and went away directly.' " " Was that all that passed betv/een your mother and Joseph ?" " All," Minna replied. " My mother wouldn't even let me speak to her. I only tried to say a few words of sympa,thy — and I vras told sharply to be silent. * Don't interrujpt mo/ she said, ' I want to write a letter.' " " Did you see the letter?" *' Oh, no ! But I was so anxious and uneasy tha-t I did peep over her shoulder while she was writing the address." " Do you remember what it was ?" **I only saw the last word on it. The last word was < Wiirzburg.' " " Kow you know as much as we do," Fritz resumed. " How does it strike you, David ? And what do you advise ?" How could I advise ? I could only draw my own conclu- £icn3 privately. Madame Fontaine's movements were watched by somebody ; possibly in the interests of the stranger v/ho now held the promissory note. It was, of course, impossibltj for me to communicate this view of the circumstances to either of my two companions. I could only suggest a patient reliance on lime, and the presorvation of discreet silence o~ JEZEBELS DAUGHTER. 14^ Minna's part, until lier mother set tlic example of returning to tlie subject. My vaguely-prudent counsels were, naturally enough, not to the taste of my young hearers. Fritz openly acknowledged that I had disappointed him ; and Minna turned aside her head, with a look of reproach. Her quick perception had detected, in my look and manner, that I was keeping my thoughts to myself. Neither she nor Fritz made any objec- tion to my leaving them, to return to the office before post- time, I wrote to Mr. Engelman before I left my desk that evening. Recalling those memorable days of my early life, I remem- ber that a strange and sinister depression pervaded our little household, from the time when Mr. Engelman left us. In some mysterious way the bonds of sympathy, by which we had been hitherto more or less united, seemed to slacken and fall away. We lived on perfectly good terms with one another; but there was an unrecognised decrease of confi- dence among us, which I for one felt sometimes almost pain- fully. An unwholesome atmosphere of distrust enveloped us. Mr. Keller only believed, under reserve, that Madame Fontaine's persistent low spirits were really attributable, as she said, to nothing more important than nervous headaches. Fritz began to doubt Avhcther Mr. Keller was really as well satisfied as he professed to be with the choice that his son had made of a portionless bride. Minna, observing that Fritz was occasionally rather more subdued and silent than usual, began to ask herself whether she was quite as dear to him, in the time of their prosperity, as in the time of their adversity. To sum up all, Madame Fontaine had her doubts of me — and I had my doubts (although she had saved Mr. Keller's life) of Madame Fontaine. From this degrading condition of dulness and distrust, wo were roused, one morning, by the happy arrival of Mrs. Wagner, attended by her maid, her courier — and Jack Straw. 146 JEZEBEL'S DAUGHTEIL CHAPTER XXIIL CiRCTJMSTANCES Had obliged my aunt to perform fbe last stage of her journey to Frankfort by the night mail. She had only stopped at our house on her way to the hotel ; being unwilling to trespass on the hospitality of her partners, while she was accompanied by such a half-witted fellow as Jack. Mr. Keller, however, refused even to hear of the head partner in the business being reduced to accept a mercenary welcome at an hotel. One whole side of the house, situated immediately over the offices, had been already put in order in anticipation of Mrs. Wagner's arrival. The luggage was then and there taken off the carriage ; and my aunt was obliged, by all the laws of courtesy and good-fellowship, to submib. This information was communicated to me by Joseph, on my return from an early visit to one of our warehouses at the riverside. When I asked if I could see my aunt, I was informed that she had already retired to rest in her room, after the fatigue of a seven hours' journey by night, " And where is Jack Straw ?" I asked. " Playing the devil already, sir, with the rules of the house," Joseph answered Fritz's voice hailed me from the lower regions. "Como down, David; here's something worth seeing!" I descended at once to the seiwants' offices. There, crouched up in a corner of the cold stone corridor which formed the medium of communication between the kitchen and the stairs, I saw Jack Straw again — in the very position in which I had found him at Bedlam ; excepting the prison, the chains, and the straw. But for his prematurely grey hair and the strange yello\l pallor of his complexion, I doubt if I should have recognised him again. Ho looked fat and happy j he was neatly and JEZEBELS DAUGUTER 147 becomingly dressed, with a flower in his button-liole and rosettes on his shoes. In one word, so far as his costume was concerned, he might have been taken for a lady's page, dressed under the superintendence of his mistress herself. " There he is !'* said Fritz, " and there he means to remain, till your aunt wakes and sends for him." " Upsetting the women servants, on their way to their work," Joseph added, with an air of supreme disgust — " and freezing in that cold corner, when he might be sitting comfortably by the kitchen fire !'* Jack listened to this with an iro:iical expression of approval. " That's very well said, Joseph," he remarked. " Come here ; I want to speak to you. Do you sec that bell ?" He pointed to a row of bells running along the upper wall of the corridor, and singled out one of them which was numbered ten. " They tell me that's the bell of Mistress's bedroom," he resumed, still speaking of my aunt by the name which he had first given to her on the day when they met in the madhous?. " Very well, Joseph ! I don't want to be in anybody's way ; but no person in the house must see that bell ring before me. Here I stay till Mistress rings — and then you will get rid of me ; I shall move to the mat outside her door, and wait till Bhe whistles for me. Now you may go. That's a poor half- witted creature," he said as Joseph retired. " Lord ! what a lot of them there are in this world !" Fritz burst out laughing. " I'm afraid you're another of them," said Jack, looking at him with an expression of the eincerest com- passion. " Do you remember me ?" I asked. Jack nodded his head in a patronising way. ** Oh, yes — Mistress has been talking of you. I know you both. You're David, and he's Fritz. All right ! all right !" "What Bort of journey from London bave you had?" I inquired next. 143 JEZEBEUS DAUGHTER. He str etched out liis sliapelj little arms and legs and yawned. "Oh, a pretty good journey. We should have been better without the courier and the maid. The courier is a tall man. I have no opinion of tall men. I am a man myself of five foot — that's the right height for a courier. I could have done all the work, and saved Mistress the money. Her maid is another tall person ; clumsy with her fingers. I could dress Mistress's hair a deal better than the maid, if she would only let me. The fact is, I want to do everything for her myself. I shall never be quite happy till I'm the only servant she has about her." "Ah, yes," said Fritz, good-naturedly sympathising with him. " You're a grateful little man ; you remember wbat Mrs. Wagner has done for you.'* " Remember ?" Jack repeated scornfully. " I say, if you can't talk more sensibly than that, you had better hold your tongue." He turned and appealed to me. " Did you ever hear anything like Fritz ? He seems to think it vv'onderful h's disgust, behind Mrs. Wagner's chair. " Nobody waits on Mistress at table," he explained, " but me. Sometimes she gives me a bit or a drink over her shoulder. Very little drink — just a sip, and no more. I quite approve of only a sip myself. OL, I know how to behave. None of your Avine-merchant's fire in my head ; no Bedlam breaking loose again. Make your minds easy. There are no cooler brains among you than mine." At this, Fritz burst into one of his explosions of laughter. Jack appealed to Fritz's father, with unruffled gravity. *'Your son, I believe, sir ? Ha ! what a blessing it is there's plenty of room for improvement in that young man. I only throw out a remark. If I was afflicted with a son mvself, I think 1 should prefer David." JEZEBEL'S DAUGHTER. 161 This specimen of Jack's method of asserting himself, and other similar outbreaks which Fritz and I mischievously encouraged, failed apparently to afford any amusement to Madame Fontaine. Once she roused herself to ask Mr. Keller if his sister had written to him from Munich. Hearing that no reply had been received, she relapsed into silence. The old excuse of a nervous headache was repeated, when Mr. Keller and my aunt politely inquired if anything was amiss. When the letters were delivered the next morning, two among them were not connected with the customary business of the office. One (with the postmark of Bingen) was for me. And one (with the postmark of Wiirzburg) was for Madame Fontaine. I sent it upstairs to her immediately. When I opened my own letter, I found sad news of poor Mr. Engelman. Time and change had failed to improve his spirits. He complained of a feeling of fulness and oppression in his head, and of hissing noises in his ears, which were an almost constant annoyance to him. On two occasions he had been cupped, and had derived no more than a temporary benefit from the employment of that remedy. His doctor recommended strict attention to diet, and regular exercise. He submitted willingly to the severest rules at table — but there was no rousing him to exert himself in any way. For hours together, he would sit silent in one place, half sleeping, half waking ; noticing no one, and caring for nothing but to get to his bed as soon as possible. This statement of the case seemed to me to suggest very grave considerations. I could no longer hesitate to inform Mr. Keller that I had received intelligence of his absent partner, and to place my letter in his hands. Whatever little disagreements there had been between them were instantly forgotten. I had ntver before seen Mr. Keller so distressed and so little master of himself. M 162 JEZEBEL'S DAUGHTER. " I must go to Engelman directly," he said. I ventured to submit that there were two serious objec- tions to his doing this : In the first place, his presence in the office was absolutely necessary. In the second place, his sudden appearance at Bingen would prove to be a serious, perhaps a fatal, shock to his old friend. " What is to be done, then ?" he exclaimed. "I think my aunt may be of some use, sir, in this emergency." " Your aunt ? How can she help us ?" I informed him of my aunt's project ; and I added that Madame Fontaine had not positively said No. He listened without conviction, frowning and shaking his head. " Mrs. Wagner is a very impetuous person," he said. " She doesn't understand a complex nature like Madame Fontaine's." " At least I may show my aunt the letter from Bingen, sir ?'* " Yes. It can do no harm, if it does no good." On my way to my aunt's room, I encountered Minna on rhe stairs. She was crying. I naturally asked what was the natter. " Don't stop me !" was the only answer I received. " But where are you going, Minna?" " I am going to Fritz, to be comforted." " Has anybody behaved harshly to you ?" '* Yes, mamma has behaved harshly to me. For the first time in my life," said the spoilt child, with a strong sense of injury, " she has locked the door of her room, and refused to let me in." " But why ?" "How can I tell? I believe it has something to do with that horrid man I told you of. You sent a letter upstairs this morning. I met Joseph on the landing, and took the letter to her myself. Why shouldn't I look at the postmark ? JEZEBELS DAUGHTER. 1G3 Where was the harm in saying to her, * A letter, mamma, from Wiirzburg ?' She looked] at me as if I had mortally offended her — and pointed to the door, and locked herself iti. I have knocked twice, and asked her to forgive me. Not a Vv'ord of answer either time ! I consider myself insulted. Let me go to Fritz." I made no attempt to detain her. She had set those ever- ready suspicions of mine at work again. Was the letter which I had sent upstairs a reply to the letter which Minna had seen her mother writing ? Was the widow now informed that the senile old admirer who had advanced the money to pay her creditors had been found dead in his bed ? and that her promissory note had passed into the possession of the heir-at-law? If this was the right reading of the riddle, no wonder she had sent her daughter out of the room — no wonder she had locked her door ! My aunt wasted no time in expressions of grief and sur- prise, when she was informed of Mr. Engelman's state of health. " Send the widow here directly," she said. " If there is anything like a true heart under that splendid silk dress of hers, I shall write and relieve poor Engelman by to-night's post." To confide my private surmises, even to my aunt, would have been an act of inexcusabla imprudence, to say the least of it. I could only reply that Madame Fontaine was not very well, and was (as I had heard from Minna) shut up in the retirement of her own room. The resolute little woman got on her feet instantly. ** Show me where she is, David — and leave the rest to me." I led her to the door, and was dismissed with these words — • ''Go and wait in my room till 1 come back to you." As I retired, I heard a smart knock, and my aunt's voice an- nouncing herself outside — " Mrs. Wagner, ma'a,m, with some- thing serious to say to you." The reply was inaudible. Not 164 JEZEBEL'S DAUGHTER, so my aunt's rejoinder; "Oh, very well! Just read tliat letter, will you ? I'll pusli it under the door, and wait for an answer." I lingered for a minute longer — and heard the door opened a.nd closed again. In little more than half an hour, my aunt returned. She looked serious and thoughtful. I at once anticipated that she had failed. Her first words informed me that I was wrong. *' I've done it," she said. " I am to write to Engelmau to-night ; and I have the widow's permission to tell him that she regrets her hasty decision. Her own words, mind, when I asked her how I should put it !" " So there is a true heart under that splendid silk dress of hers ?" I said. My aunt walked up and down the room, silent and frown- ing — discontented with me, or discontented with herself ; it was impossible to tell which. On a sudden, she sat down by me, and hit me a smart slap on the shoulder. " David !" she said, " I have found out something about myself which I never suspected before. If you want to see a cold-blooded wretch, look at me !" It was so gravely said, a,nd so perfectly al>surd, that I burst out laughing. She was far too seriously perplexed about herself to take the smallest notice of my merriment. " Do you know," she resumed, "that I actually hesitate to write to Engelman ? David ! I ought to be whipped at the cart's tail. I don't believe in IMadame Fontaine." She little knew how that abrupt confession interested me. *' Tell me why !" I said eagerly. " That's the disgraceful part of it," she answered. " I can't tell you why. Madame Fontaine spoke charmingly — vrith perfect taste and feeling. And all the time some devilish spirit of distrust kept whispering to me, ' Don't believe her ; she has her motive I' Are you sure, David, it is only a little •llness tha.t makes her shut herself up in her room, and look JEZEBELS DAUGHTER. 165 go frightfully pale and haggard? Do you know anything about her affairs ? Engelman is rich ; Engelman has a position. Has she got into some difficulty since she refused him? and could he, by the barest possibility, be of any use in helping her out of it ?" I declare solemnly that the idea suggested hj my aunt never occurred to me until she asked those questions. As a rejected suitor, Mr. Engelman could be of no possible use to the widow. But suppose he was her accepted husband ? and suppose the note fell due before Minna was married ? In that case, Mr. Engelman might unquestionably be of use — he might lend the money. My aunt's sharp eyes w^ere on me. " Out with it, David !" she cried. " You don't believe in her, either — and you know why." " I know absolutely nothing," I rejoined ; " I am guessing in the dark ; and the event may prove that I am completely at fault. Don't ask me to degrade Madame Fontaine's cha- racter in your estimation, without an atom of proof to justify what I say. I have something to propose which I think will meet the difficulty." With a strong eff'ort of self-restraint, my aunt resigned herself to listen. " Let's hear your proposal," she said. " Have you any Scotch blood in your veins, David ? You are wonderfully prudent and cautious for so young a man." I went straight on with what I had to say. *' Send the widow's message to Mr. Engelman, by all means," I proceeded ; " but not by post. I was with him immediately after his offer of marriage had been refused ; anJ it is my belief that he is far too deeply wounded by the manner in which Madame Fontaine expressed herself when she rejected him, to be either able, or willing, to renew his proposal. I even doubt if he w^ill believe in her expression of regret. This view of mine may turn out, of course, to be 166 JEZEBEVS DAUGHTER. quite wi'ong ; but let us at least put it to the test. I can easily get leave of absence for a few days. Let me take your letter to Biugen to-morrow, and see with my own eyes how it is received." At last I was fortunate enough to deserve my aunt's ap- proval. ^ An excellent suggestion," she said. " But — I believe I have caught the infection of your prudence, David — don't let us tell Madame Fontaine. Let her suppose that you have gone to Biugen in consequence of the unfavourable news of Engelman's health." She paused, and considered a little. " Or, better still, Bingen is on the way to England. There will be nothing extraordinary in your stopping to visit Engelman, on your journey to London." This took me completely, and far from agreeably, by sur- prise. I said piteously, "Must I really leave Frankfort?" " My good fellow, I have other interests to consider besides Engelman's interests," my aunt explained. " Mr. Hartrey is waiting to hear from me. There is no hope that Engel- man will be able to travel to London, in his present state of health, and no possibility of Mr. Keller taking his place until something is settled at Frankfort. I want you to explain all this to Mr. Hartrey, and to help him in the management of the business. There is nobody else here, David, whom I can trust, as I trust you. I see no alternative but to ask you to go to London." On my side, I had no alternative but to submit — and, what is more (remembering all that I owed to my aunt), to submit with my best grace. We consulted Mr. Keller ; and he entirely agreed that I was the fittest person who could be found to reconcile Mr. Hartrey to the commercial resjwnsi- bilities that burdened him. After a day's delay at Bingen, to study the condition of Mr. Engelman's health and to write the fullest report to Frankfort, the faster I could trave^ afterwards, and the sooner I could reach London, the better. JEZEBEL'S DAUGHTER. 167 So hard necessity compelled me to leave the stage, before the curtain rose on the final acts of the drama. The mail- post started at six in the morning. I pack d up, and took leave of everybody, over-night — except Madame Fontaine, who still kept her room, and who was not well enough to see me. The dear kind-hearted Minna offered me her cheek to kiss, and made me promise to return for her marriage. She was strangely depressed at my departure. ''You first con- soled me," she said ; " you have brought me happiness. I don't like your leaving us. Oh, David, I do wish you were not going away!" "Gome! come!" my aunt interposed*; " no crying, young lady ! Always keep a man's spirits up when he leaves you. Give me a good hug, David — and think of the time when you will be a partner in the business." Ah ! what a woman she was ! Look as you may, my young friends, you will not find the like of her now. Jack Straw was the one person up and stirring when the coach stopped the next morning at the door. I expected to be amused — but there was no reckoning with Jack. His farewell words literally frightened me. " I say !" he whispered, as I hurried into the hall, " there's one thing I want to ask you before you go." " Be quick about it, Jack." " All right, David. I had a talk with Minna yesterday, about Mr. Keller's illness. Is it true that he was cured out of the blue-glass bottle ?" " Perfectly true." " Look here, David ! I have been thinking of it all night. I was cured out of the blue- glass bottle." I suddenly stood still, with my eyes riveted on his face. He stepped close up to me, and lowered his voice suddenly, " And I was poisoned," he said. " What I want to know is — Who poisoned Mr. Keller?" BETWEEN THE PAETS. MR. DAVID GLENNEY PP.ODUCES HIS CORRESPONDENCE, AND THROWS SOME NEW LIGHTS ON THE STORY. I. Be 2)leasecl to read tlie following letter from Mr. Lawyer's- Clerk-Schmuckle to Mr. Town-Gouncillor-Hof : *' My honoured Sir, — I beg to report that you may make your mind easy on the subject of Madame Fontaine. If she leaves Frankfort, she will not slip away privately as she did at Wiirzburg. V/herever she may go now, we need not ajjply again to her relations in this place to help us to find her. Henceforth I undertake to keep her in view until the promissory note flxlls due. " The lady is at present established as housekeeper in the employment of the firm of Wagner, Keller, and Engelman ; and there (barring accidents, which I shall carefully look after) she is likely to remain. *- 1 have made a memorandum of the date at which her promissory note falls due — viz., the 31st December in the present year. The note being made payable at Wiirzburg, you must take care (in the event of its not being honoured) to have the document protested in that town, and to commu- nicate with me by the Scame day's post. I will myself soa that the law takes its regular course. *' Permit me most gratefully to thank you for the advance on my regular fees which you have so graciously trans- mitted, and believe me your obedient humble servant to command.'* II. I next submit a copy of a letter addressed by the late Chemistry-Professor Fontaine to an honourable friend and colleague. This gentleman is still living ; and ho makes it a condition of supplying the copy that his name shall not appear :— 172 JEZEBEDS DAUGHTER. *' Illustrious Friend and Colleague, — You will be surprised at so soon hearing from me again. The truth is, that I have Bome interesting news for you. An alarming accident has enabled me to test the va,lue of one of my preparations on a living human subject — that subject being a man. " My last letter informed you that I had resolved on making no further use of the Formula for recomposing some of the Borgia Poisons (erroneously supposed to be destroyed) left to me on the death of my lamented Hungarian friend — my master in chemical science. " The motives which have led to this decision are, I hope, beyond the reach of blame. " You will remember agreeing with me, that the two speci- mens of these resuscitated poisons which I have succeeded in producing are capable — like the poisons already known to modern medical practice — of rendering the utmost benefit in certain cases of disease, if they are administered in carefully regulated doses. Should I live to devote them to this good purpose, there will still be the danger (common to all poisonous preparations employed in medicine) of their doing fatal mischief, when misused by ignorance or crime. " Bearing this in mind, I conceive it to be my duty to provide against dangerous results, by devoting myself to the discovery of efficient antidotes, before I adapt the prepara- tions themselves to the capacities of the healing art. I have ^ad some previous experience in this branch of what I call preservative chemistr}^, and I have already in some degree succeeded in attaining my object. " The Formula in cypher which I now send to you, on the slip of paper inclosed, is an antidote to that one of the two poisons known to you and to me by the fanciful name which you suggested for it — * Alexander's Wine.' * With regard to the second of the poisons, which (if you remember) I have entitled — ip anticipation of its employment JEZEBEL'S DAUGHTER. 173 as medicine — 'The Looking-Glass Drops," I regret to say that I have not yet succeeded in discovering the antidote in this case. " Having now suiTiciently explained my present position, I may tell you of the extraordinary accident to which I have alluded at the beginning of my letter. " About a fortnight since, I was sent for, just as I had finished my lecture to the students, to see one of my servants. He had been suffering from illness for one or two days. I had of course offered him my medical services. He refused, however, to trouble me ; sending word that he only wanted rest. Fortunately one of my assistants happened to see him, and at once felt the necessity of calling in my help. " The man was a poor half-witted friendless creature, whom I had employed out of j^ure i)ity to keep my laboratory clean, and to wash and dry my bottles. He had sense enough to perform ^ucli small services as these, and no more. Judge of my horror when I went to his bedside, and instantly recog- nised the sym2)toms of poisoning by * Alexander's Wine !' " I ran back to my laboratory, and unlocked the medicino- chest which held the antidote. In the next compartment, the poison itself was always placed. Looking into the com- partment now, I found it empty. " I at once instituted a search, and discovered the bottlo left out on a shelf. For the first time in my life, I had been guilty of inexcusable carelessness. I had not looked roun^ me to see that I had left everything safe before quitting the room. The poor imbecile wretch had been attracted by the colour of 'Alexander's Wine,' and had tasted it (in his own phrase) * to see if it was nice.' My inquiries informed me that this had happened at least thirty-six hours since ! I had but] one hope of saving him— derived from experiments of animals, which had shown me the very gradual progress of the deadly action of the poison. 174 JEZEBEL'S DAUGHTER, ""What I felt when I returned to the suffering man, I sLali not attemi^t to describe. You will understand lio\r completely I was overwhelmed, when I tell you that I m^janly concealed my own disgraceful thoughtlessness from my brethren in the University. I was afraid that my experi- ments might be prohibited as dangerous, and my want oi common prudence be made the subject of pubhc reprimand by the authorities. The medical professors were permitted by me to conclude that it was a case of illness entirely new m their experience. " In administering the antidote, I had no previous experi- ments to guide me, except my experiments with rabbits and dogs. Whether I miscalculated or whether I was deluded by my anxiety to save the man's life, I cannot say. This at least is certain, I gave the doses too copiously and at too short intervals. " The i^atient recovered — but it was after sustaining some incomprehensibly deteriorating change in the blood, which destroyed his complexion, and turned his hair grey. I have since modified the doses ; and in dread of losing the memo- randum, I have attached a piece of notched paper to tbe bottle, so as to render any future error of judgment impos- sible. At the same time, I have facilitated the future administration of the antidote byaddiug a label to the bottle stating the exact quantity of the poison taken by my servant, as calculated by myself. "I ought, by the way, to have mentioned in the cyplior that experience has shown me the necessity, if the antiJocO is to be preserved for any length of time, of protecting it in blue glass from the influence of light. " Let me also tell you that I found a vegetable diet of use in perfecting the effect of the treatment. That mean dread of discovery, which I have already acknowledged, induce