Ambrose fecit, or, The peer and the printer
page: 0 (TitlePage) [View Page 0 (TitlePage) ] AMBROSE FECIT; OR, THE PEER AND THE PRINTER. BY THOMAS i)UiUN ENGLISH oil NEW- YORK: HILTON AND COMPANY, PUBLISHERS, No. 128 NASSAU STRERT. 1867. page: 0[View Page 0] Entered, according to Act of Congress, in the year 1867, BY HILTON & CO., in the Clerk's Office of the U. S. District Court for the Southern District of New York. AMBROSE FECIT; OR, THE PEER AND TIIE PRINTER. CHAPTER I., Which introduces a nice little girl, and an accident. I must have been about eighteen years old, or thereabouts, when, on a holiday in- June, I walked out, and strolled by the high road to the coun- try beyond Puttenham. The highway led me to a common over which it crossed; and there, musing over the commonplace events of the week, I wandered over the knolls of gravelly soil, and among the furze-bushes,watch- ing the donkies as they cropped the scanty blades of grass, and indulged occasionally in a tit-bit, in the way of a juicy thistle. Tired at length, I sat me down to rest under a thorn-bush by the road-side, and was thus seated when I heard the sound of voices. Looking up, I saw a man approach, who was leading by the hand a little girl who appeared to be about ten years of age. I was struck with the appearance of the couple, and so scan- ned them closely. The man was short, thick-set, and well-stricken in years. He was clad in a plain suit of black, considera- bly worn, and much dusted by travel; and he wore a black felt hat, with a very wide brim. His complexion was swarthy, and his eyes were keen and deeply set beneath long and bushy eye brows. On his face he wore a thick, grey moustache-a thing quite uncommon -in England at that time In fact, it was- the first I had ever seen off the stage of a theatre. Hip hair was jet black in color, streaked here and there with white, and fell in glossy curls to his shoulders; but when he removed his hat for a moment to wipe the perspiration from his fore head, I noticed that the hair in a wide circle over the crown was not over a half inch in length, as though it hat grown after having been recently shaved. His walk was slow and stea dy, and, although he occasionally threw searching glances around him his eyes were generally bent on the ground. My gaze, however, was riveted most firmly to the little girl. She was the very perfection of childish beauty. and I had never seen before, nor have I beheld since, anything so exquisite ly lovely. Her complexion was clear and delicate, with that thin. skin, in which the color comes and goes at every fleeting. emotion. Her features were of as perfect an outline as ever. poet imagined, or painter drew. There was but little color in the cheeks, but the lips were intensely red, and the lower one looked like a ripe, pulpy page: 6-7[View Page 6-7] cherry. Her form, well shown by a closely-fitting dress, seemed to be most symmetrical; and the mould of her ancles and feet would have delighted a sculptor. But her eyes were the most striking of all. Large, lustrous and passionate, in color of the deep- est hazel, with the iris floating in a sea of liquid pearl, they beamed with a mingled fire and softness from beneath their long, dark lashes, in a way to haunt the memory of the gazer for many days afterward. She was a mere child-a little, innocent, dreamy-look- ing girl; but I rose to my feet as she came forward, and felt an emotion of tenderness for the beautiful being, which, had she been older, could only have been inspired by love. As it was I was fascinated. The man saw me, stopped, removed his hat, and addressed me a question in a foreign tongue. I knew the lan- guage to be Spanish, for I had heard similar sounds once before; but I could not understand the meaning. I show- ed, this, doubtless, by my looks, for he replaced his hat, bowed slightly, and moved on. It happened, however, that the music-teacher of my adopted sis- ter, who was a Frenchman, had given me frequent lessons in his language, and having labored to acquire it dur- ing a whole year, I managed to speak it fluently enough, though with a de- fective accent. My admiration for the child made me forget this, and almost everything else; and it was only when the couple had turned, and the spell of the little girl's eyes had passed, that I recalled to mind my accomplish ment. Thinking the man might pos- sibly understand me, I called after him in French, and asked how I could serve him. He turned instantly, his coun- tenance expressing great satisfaction, and replied in the same tongue: "I should be glad, my son, if you could tell me the distance to the town of Puttenham." "Two miles from the milestone which stands at the mouth of yonder quarry, sir. You can see the town from the rising ground just beyond." As I spoke I joined them in their walk toward the town. The man re- sumed his questions. "How far thence is the ohateau of the Lord Landeeze?" "Landys Castle, I suppose you mean. The park commences about a mile on the other side of town, but the castle is at least two milesl farther, and stands back nearly a half mile from the high road. There is a near path which cuts off much of the dis- tance." "Is milord at home?" "I believe so." "He is a very tall, stately gentle- man, is he not? He has dark grey eyes, and brown hair, not unlike your own, in color I mean, for yours is straight and his is curled?" "No; you describe his second-cou- sin, the former earl, who died about two years since, and who rarely vi- sited the place. The present earl is stately enough, and tall; but he has light grey eyes,. and light, reddish, yellow hair, such as we call sandy." The man seemed staggered at this. "Dead!" he exclaimed, " about two years since 1" I nodded my head affirmatively. We walked for a few minutes in si lence. Then he turned suddenly and questioned me again. "How did he die?" "I can only tell you what is gene- rally believed here," I replied. "He had been absent from England for mar ny years, traveling restlessly all over the world. He was last heard from at Valparaiso; where he took passage in a schooner bound to Mazatlan, whence he intended to cross over- and to Vera Cruz, and to go thence by way of Havana to the United States. The vessel was wrecked near her port, and all on board perished, except his lordship's valet. He returned about a year and a half since, and brought the news of his master's death." He nuttered something in Spanish, and then resumed his questions. "And the second-cousin succeeded. Ah, yes I I know your English law- the nearest heir-male." "Not exactly," I replied. "His se- cond-cousin did succeed him, undoubt- edly; but as the nearest heir, and not as the nearest heir-male." "I do not understand the distinc- tion. "What is it?" "Because," I said, " the earldom of Landys is unlike many, and for all I know, unlike any other title in the peerage. It is of a very old creation, and the title and estates are entailed on the senior heir, without regard to sex. If a female, and she marries, the husband becomes earl through his wife's right, to the exclusion of the next of kin. The grandfather of the late earl was a commoner, but on his mar- riage with the young Countess of Lan- dys, entered on the wife's title and es- tate.- The late earl was childless, hav- ing never married, and so the next heir, the son of his father's cousin, succeeded." The Spaniard seemed to be revolv- ing something in his mind, and walked along for awhile in silence. I pleased myself during the interval by watch- ing the movements of the child, who tripped along, walking naturally and gracefully, as most girls of her age do. At length the man raised his head and inquired: "The present earl-is he married?" "He is," I replied, " and has a child about four years old, a son." The eyes of the stranger flashed an- grily, but the gleam of passion pass- ed, and was followed by an expression half smile and halt sneer. "What kind of man is the earl," he asked, "I mean as to mind and manners?" "That," I answered, "would be hard for me to tell. I have no oppor- tunities of judging of either." "I should have supposed," said the stranger, " from your familiarity with the family history, that you were a connexion or friend." I laughed at this, and said: "You will not be in Puttenham long before' you learn that the townsfolk are naturally interested in the Landys family, since the earl owns about one- half the town-the rest belonging,to old Sharp, the miser. My position de- bars me from any special intimacy with a peer." "Your position; may 1 ask, without offending you, what that is V' "Certainly. I am a printer's ap- prentice at your service-apprentice and adopted son of John Guttenberg, printer and stationer." "You I a printer?" "Nothing more sure." "Do printer's apprentices in this part of the world usually learn French?" "I believe not; but I have a taste for languages." page: 8-9[View Page 8-9] We had now reached the edge of the town, and my companion having ask- ed where he could obtain lodging, I directed him to the Crown and Angel, a respectable, middle-class inn,' situ- ated on the main street. He bowed formally, gave me a profusion of thanks for my courtesy, and so we parted. I stood and gazed after him and the lit- tle girl as she walked by his side, her budy gently swaying, and her glossy hair, which hung in unrestrained waves down her back, glistening in 'the sunshine. A turn of the street hid them from my sight; and then I walked to the lodgings of a friend with whom I purposed to spend the remain. der of the day. This friend was a young London art- ist, fastly rising into note in his pro- fession, who came annually to Putten- ham, and spent a couple of months' time there and thereabouts, partly to sketch, for there was some beautiful tscenery around the place, and partly to fish, for there was an excellent trout stream in the neighborhood. His name was Paul Baghy. We had met while I was spending a Saturday af- ternoon-a half holiday always allow- ed me-fishing on the banks of the Willowfringe; and, from the admira- tion I expressed at a huge trout he dexterously captured, we became ac- quaintances. He had his sketch-book with him, and I begged a sight at the drawings, which he was good enough to let me have. Finding that I ad- mired art and artists, he invited me to call at his lodgings, and I was glad to accept the invitation. Being John Guttenberg's adopted son, I had re- ceived a fair English education, and was not, in either manner or language, what the world expected to find in an ordinary apprentice-boy. Paul was struck by some boyish remark I made when looking at his sketches-its od- dity tickled his fancy-perhaps my unfeigned admiration for his, produc- tions tickled his vanity too-.and we became friends. He gave me -lessons in drawing, and during his stay would frequently come to the shop and beg a holiday for me that I might accom- pany him in his sketching rambles. -My master never refused this, for Mr. Baghy was becoming distinguished, and was patronized by the Landys fa- mily, the last fact, of course, a high recommendation to the favor of the townsfolk. . Beside this he was a very good customer to our circulating li- brary, taking out a fresh book nearly every day, merely to dawdle over a few passages, and then throw it aside. He was lively, made many queer remarks, and used to drop in at the shop along with the officers and others, and to tell all kinds of funny stories to Mrs. Guttenberg land Mary, who had charge of that part of the busi- ness. He was a great favorite with the family, as he appeared to be with every one else. But Baghy was not at home, having left in the morning on a sketching tour, and I turned to go elsewhere. Longing to have another look at the little girl whose childish beauty had so impressed me, I made my way to the inn, knowing that by taking a street which ran diagonally, I would reach there before the Spaniard and his daughter, who had taken the long- er and usual way. The Crown and Angel was in Char- ter street, which was the principal avenue of the town, and the house stood at the corner of the 'market square. By going through Billet lane I arrived at the inn first. On enter- ing the public room I called for a mug of ale, not that I wanted a drink, but because I desired a pretext for re- maining. The waiter sat it before me, and it was still untasted when I heard an uproar without, and ran to the door with the rest, to learn the cause. Two runaway horses attached tq. an empty phaeton were galloping furious- ly down the street, everybody getting out of the way, and no one attempt- ing to stop the infuriated animals. As they came near the inn, the Spaniard and little girl emerged from the cross street, and walked toward the Crown and Angel. A dozen voices called to them to go back; but the man, not understanding English, did not think the words to be addressed to him, or was probably so lost in thought as not to hear the noise. He still ad- vanced, the little girl accompanying him. I called to him in French to take care, and springing forward, dragged the child out of the horses' path. The man saw his danger, and leaped des- perately forward, but the hub of one of the wheels struck him on the hip, and threw him forward violently on his face. The horses, as though star- tled by the occurrence, stopped sud- denly, and were at once secured by the bystanders. The stranger was picked up insen- sible, carried into the inn, and a sur- geon sent for. The little girl was al- most frantic at first, but soon calmed when she recognized me as one whom she had met before, though only for a few minutes; and though she under- stood none of my words, I was ena- bled by soothing looks and gestures to reassure her. In a few minutes her father recovered his senses. but was evidently seriously injured, as the blood on his face denoted-even more seriously hurt than at first appeared, for when the surgeon came he pro- nounced the hip to be dislocated. The patient was at once removed to a chamber, and the dislocation with great difficulty reduced. The opera- tion was doubtless very painful; but the Spaniard, during its continuance, merely set his teeth firmly together, and did not even groan. So soon as the head of the bone resumed its pro- per position, he fainted, but quickly recovered, and in a short while, al- though the parts around the joints were much swollen, enjoyed compara- tive ease. The child would not be separated from her father, but obeyed every or- der given by signs to remain quiet-- keeping her large eyes fixed on the sufferer during the operation, and wiping the large drops of perspira- tion from his forehead. As I was the only person present who could act as interpreter, I was forced to remain nearly an hour. Dur- ing that time the Spaniard, who gave his name as Jose Espinel, requested me to tell the landlord that he prefer- red to remain there rather than to go to the public hospital, and that he had sufficient means to pay for the required accommodation. This I did, and at his further request made the landlord send by the carrier to the next town, Puddleford, for his own portmanteau, and his daughter's trunk, both of which had been left there. He explained to me that he could not obtain a convey- ance that morning, and, being anxious to get to Puttenham, had walked over, getting a lift for himself and the child page: 10-11[View Page 10-11] part of the way in a farmer's cart. He requested me to visit him often while he lay there, which I promised to do if permitted. I pressed his hand, pat- ted the child on the shoulder, and left the two together. When I got home I found that the news of the accident had preceded me -indeed by that time had been spread throughout the town. Captain Berke- ley, of the stationed regiment, was commenting on the zmatter as I enter- ed the shop, and complimented me as a "doocid plucky little fellah." Mrs. Guttenburg, who looked upon me as a kind of hero for having pulled the child out of the way of the horses, made a great many inquiries about the couple, and seemed very proud of the compliment paid me by the cap- tain. Mary asked if the little girl were pretty, and on my answering in the affirmative, said that when we grew up we would be married-as that was the way in all the novels and plays. As for John Guttenberg, he merely said that I had acted properly enough; and when I told him of the Spaniard's request, added that I might spend two hours with him during the day, and the entire evenings, if he de- sired it-a permission I was not slow to accept. CHAPTER II., Which is principally about a Baby, a Myste rious Personage in Black, and the Church- Clock. Thus far my story is plain enough; but the reader may possibly desire to know who I am, who John Gutten- berg was, and other matters. It is a proper curiosity, and shall be gratified. Who I am will be told in due time- what I was, and how I came to be, up to the commencement of the story, he shall hear at once. Mr. John Guttenberg, although born in England, was the grandson of a German printer, and was himself a master of the printer's art and mys- tery. He came of a race of printers, and boasted that from the time of his great ancestor, who had divided with Fust and Schoeffer the honor of intro- ducing moveable types, the eldest-born of the family had always been a type- setter. Mr. John Guttenberg was a staid, sober and respectable trades- man, the master of a well-conducted printing-office, and the publisher of a country newspaper at the town of Put- tenham, in the Southwestern part of England. He was also a book-seller, and kept a circulating library, whereof the officers of a marching regiment, quartered in the neighborhood, and all the people of consequence there, as well as many who were of no conse- quence at all, were patrons. Puttenham was a place having pre- tensions to size and respectability. It boasted of several public buildings, including a Retreat for Decayed Mal- sters, founded by the will of Gervase Thompson, a retired brewer; the Qoun- ty Jail and Court-house, for Putten- ham was the shire town; the stocks and public pound; a fine old church, planned by Sir Christopher Wren, and erected in 1701; three Dissenters: Meeting-Houses. each rectangular and- many-windowed; and a public square, highly-ornamented by the stocks, a pump and two long horse-troughs. The church had a most excellent clock, made by a famous clocklmaker in Lon- don, and had four dials, placed to face the four points of the compass. Of all these things, I insist more particularly on John Guttenburg and the town clock, since both have a deal to do with the early part of my life. To the one I am indebted for my rear- ing, and to the other for my name; and I hold both my benefactors in grateful remembrance. Mr. John Guttenberg, I repeat, was a staid, sober, and respectable trades- man Physically, nature had not been lavish of her choicest gifts upon his person, since he was but five feet five inches in height, but as he was nearly as rotund as one of his own ink-balls, the deficiency of length was compen- sated for by the extent of breadth; and in like manner, a brevity of nose was balanced by an extreme length of chin; and a mouth in shape and size like the button-hole of a great coat, - atoned for by a pair of ears whose length caused them to invade the do- main of the hat above, and encroach on that of the shirt-collar below. Men- tally, he was rather above the greater part of his neighbors, having energy, quick-sightedness in business affairs, and some concentration of purpose. Morally, he was well endowed, and in addition to a warm heart, possessed a fair share of honor, as he understood the sentiment, and an abhorrence of what he deemed a mean action. The robbers of old, those fellows who went robbing and ruffianizing over the country in sheet-iron coats and trou- sers, would not have recognized him as a chivalrous gentleman. Yet, I as- sert that John Guttenberg, tradesman as he was, and therefore by occupa- tion supposed to be devoid of such feeling, had as much of such chivalric impulse in his nature as ever shed its lustre upon the Knights of the Round Table orthe Peers of Charlemagne. It is true that he had some prejudices, and he evinced a slavish deference to those above him in social position; but these were common to the trades- man of that time and place, and, judg- ing from history, not incompatible with knightly acts. And if he were occasionally betrayed into a slight ex-. cess, it was only at rare intervals, and -upon great occasions. Two and thirty years ago to a day- I am writing this upon the third day of December, in the year of grace one thousand eight hundred and fifty-nine -the publisher of the Puttenham Chronicle, being a Councilman, attend- ed a meeting of the Corporation. Af- ter the council had closed its session, he accepted an invitation to dine with the Mayor, a wealthy soap-boiler of the town, and sat late with his wor- shipful host and friends over the wine and walnuts. Although, as he after- wards explained to Mrs. Guttenberg, he was exceedingly, sober when he left the Mayor's house, yet the sudden emergence from a warm to a cold at- mosphere, and the change from the bright, cheerful fire within, the more cheerful company, and the still more cheerful wine, to the coldness and quiet without, had a bewildering effect upon him. Instead of turning to the right, he turned to the left, and pursued his way for some distance before he dis- covered his error. He stopped and looked around him. It was difficult at first to find to what quarter of the town hee had strayed: At length he recognized a barber's pole, which stood before a low house at the street-corner, and thus knew that his nearest road homeward would be obtained by retracing his steps. Before he could turn he felt a page: 12-13[View Page 12-13] hand upon his elbow. He looked around and saw a tall, dark figure, with a coat closely buttoned up, and a heavy fur collar over its shoulders. All that he could discover about the face was a pair of flashing eyes that were fixed steadily on his own. "Well?" said the printer, enquir- ingly, and not without some appre- hension, lest his new companion might be a foot-pad. "Mr. John Guttenberg, I believe," said the other, in good enough Eng- lish, but with an accent that sounded foreign. "That is my name," was the reply. "You can do me an essential ser- vice." "I should be glad enough to do it," said the startled tradesman; "but it is rather late, and Mrs. Guttenberg will wonder what detains me so long beyond my accustomed hour. If you will call at my shop to-morrow, or ra- ther to-day, for it is now long past midnight, I shall be happy to hear what you may have to propose." The church clock struck two. "At this moment, or never," said the unknown. "When the day dawns it may be too late." John Guttenberg was about to re- ply, when the other seized his arm with a firm grasp, and urged his steps onwards in a direction opposite to his own house. Resistance was useless, and although the printer was rather startled, he saw no one to afford help, and so gave in to the will of his cap- tor. Fifteen minutes sharp walling, but through what streets he could not tell, sufficed to bring the couple to the outside of a dilapidated building in an unfamiliar place. Into its narrow and unlighted hall, and up its creaking stairs, the unknown led the trades. man. Before the. back-room in the third story, the stranger stopped, and without announcing his approach, en- tered, dragging his companion after him, and then closing the door. John Guttenberg, though greatly astounded at the whole matter, when he saw no personal harm was intend- ed to him, took a good look at the apartment into which he had been so unceremoniously thrust. The room was devoid of comforta- ble furniture. There was an old and creaking deal table, and a three-leg- ged, oaken stool. On the former was a farthing candle, inserted in an ordi- nary iron candle-stick. A scanty sea- coal fire glimmered at the bottom of the grate. In the corner something lay wrapped up in a pile of ragged clothes, over which a cloak was partly drawn. Near there, on the three-leg- ged stool, sat a woman, meanly clad, and, for the weather, insufficiently. She was handsome, though her skin was dark, almost tawny- her hair especially being of an unwonted black- ness and glossiness, and, from the mass gathered at the back of the head, ex- ceedingly luxuriant in growth. She turned her eyes on the new-comer, and seemed about to rise. The un- known raised his finger with a menac- ing motion, when she sank back in her seat, and covered her face with her hands. "You have the reputation of being an honest and humane man," said the stranger. "I hope so," said the printer. "You have, and I dare say it is de- served." The stranger paused a moment, and the woman sighed. John Guttenberg took a good look at both. The wo- man, though dressed so commonly, had a well-proportioned hand and wrist; and a portion of her undercloth- ing, which protruded from the bosom of her dress, was edged with what ap- peared to be costly lace. As for the stranger, he was tall, handsomely dressed, though without cloak or sur- tout, and wore around his neck a heavy collar, or rather a half cape of fur. His eyes were dark, but whether grey, black, or hazel, could not well be seen, for his hat was so slouched over his face as to throw them in shadow. He also wore a heavy beard and whis- kers. "'Take this child," he said; and as he spoke he lifted a young babe from the pile of clothes in which it had been snugly 'stowed. The woman made a motion as though to wrest it; but the stranger said something in a foreign tongue, when she shrank back. "Take it home with you," he conti- nued. "Here-this collar of fur will protect it still further from the cold. Here are fifty pounds. Do with the brat as you like. Make a printer of him-bring him up as you think fit-give him what name you choose. You shall hear from me again. Come, it is time for you to go home." "But," remonstrated the printer, holding the babe at arm's length, "I don't choose to-" "Ah!" said the woman, rising, and commencing to speak. "Diyum!" cried the unknown, an- grily. The woman was cowed, either by the strange word, which she appa- rently understood, or by his manner, for she resumed her seat, wringing her hands, piteously. The babe looked up in the printer's face, and smiled-at least, that contor- tion of the lips which passes for a smile in new-born babes made its ap- pearance. John Guttenberg, whose married life was childless, found him- self involuntarily pressing the little innocent to his bosom. "Come," said the stranger, "it is time to go." The woman darted forward, snatch- ed the child, and gave it a kiss-then returned it with a sigh. As she did so, she slipped into John Guttenberg's hand a small paper packet. "Come!" said the stranger again, and he led the bewildered printer, who seemed to have lost all power of re- sistance, out of the room, down stairs and along the streets-by what route it seemed impossible to say.-to the door of the latter's house. There the bearer of the child plucked up cour- age, and was about to return the charge thus thrust upon him, when he discovered that the other had turned the nearest corner and disappeared. "Oh, well I never mind 1" said the printer to himself, as he opened the door with his latch-key, "I'll send the little fellow to the poor-house in the morning." Mrs. Guttenberg had not retired to rest. She knew that her husband had dined with the Mayor, and expecting him to return a little flushed with wine, had prepared a series of moral observations, specially adapted to his case. To her great surprise his face had a look far more sober and me- lancholy than usual, and to her greater surprise she saw him unroll from a bundle of furs and clothing, a very little child. The babe, which by this time had grown hungry, began to wail, page: 14-15[View Page 14-15] "Bless me!" said the wife, " if the man hasn't a baby! Who's is it?" "That's precisely what I'd like to know," replied the husband. "But bow did you come by it?" "That's precisely what I mean to tell you, if it will only stop its whin- ing." Mrs. Guttenberg took the babe in her arms. It was dressed in a long frock of cross-barred muslin; but around one arm was a strip of yellow lace, of an exceedingly rare and cost- ly kind; and the short sleeves of the dress, with those of the silk and flan- nel underclothes, were looped up and joined together by two bracelets of turquoises, chained with gold after a quaint and peculiar fashion. Around the babe's neck was suspended by a coarse flaxen thread, a plain gold ring. Inside of this were some peculiar cha- racters. The letters M and T were to be made out distinctly; but the others seemed to be mere hieroglyphics. The inscription, which was deeply engra- ven, was as follows: F*M-.M TAW The fur in which the child was wrapped was of the richest Russian sable, and underneath it was a shawl whose material was afterwards ascer- tained to be true cashmere. The babe raised its large grey eyes to the face of the good woman, and, curling its little lip, renewed its piteous wailing. "I'm sure I don't know what to do with it," said the printer's wife. "It wants feeding, poor thing, and I don't believe there's a drop of milk in the house. Jane gave the last to the cat. before she went to bed." "Well, my dear, Jane has a baby herself, and-" "Dear me I so she has. I never thought of that. I'l wake her." And she did. Jane came. As she was about to take the child, it again indulged in that facial contortion which young mothers call a smile. "Why," exclaimed Mrs. Gutten- berg, " it is the sweetest babe. There, Jane, take care of him until morning. He seems to be very hungry." Jane experimented before reporting. "It feeds uncommon strong, mum," she said. "It's a rare, hearty babe, mum." And presently off went Jane, with the new comer in charge. John Guttenberg told his wife all that had occurred to him, including the fact that the apparent mother had slipped a packet in his hand; but when he came to that part of the story, for the first time he missed the paper. It was neither in his hand nor on his per- son, and, after an unavailing search, he came to the conclusion that he had dropped it on the way home. d What will you do with it?" inquir- ed the wife. / "Do with it I Give it up to the pa- rochial authorities along with the mo- ney. I think that is the proper course." "Is it like the man?" "I am not sure whether it is or not. He hid his face so that I cannot say. It's not like the mother, I'm sure. Its eyes are grey, and hers are the black- est I ever saw." "It's a pretty baby, John; a very pretty baby." "That's what you women say about all babies. It looks to me to have about as much expression as a sheet of brown paper. However, its good or bad looks don't concern us. The parish will have to take care of it." "John, we've been married four years come next May-day, and we have no children." "Well?" "It's a boy, John." "Is it? What then?" "Suppose we keep him." "No, indeed I I have no i(ea of supporting other peoples' babies-at least not to bring them up at my ex- pense." "But it seems like the gift of Pro- vidence; and then the fifty pound, and the lace, and the jewels, and the fur, and that beautiful soft shawl I It is not a poor man's child, you may de- pend on that, and I think it will bring good luck." "Do you really want to keep it, Martha?" "Indeed I do, John." "I should be annoyed to death with all kinds of ridiculous stories. People would invent all kinds of strange sto- ries, and some of them might even fancy-" "Well, let them fancy. 1 wouldn't believe that, nor any one that has eyes, for it isn't a hair like you; that's easy to be seen." "It won't do, Martha." "Well, just as you choose; but it's very hard that you won't grant a little favor like that, when I've taken a fan- cy to the child." "Little favor very little to be sure-to be kept awake all night by some other man's crying brat." "Do you hear it cry now?" "No, but-" "John, dear 1" "Oh, well!" exclaimed the printer, inwardly delighted at his wife's perse- verance in a whim which accorded with his own wish, "you can keep it, if you will. But what will you name the young fellow?" "Oh, I'll find a name, never fear." The church clock struck three. "There!" she exclaimed," there is a name now, and a very pretty one. You can see it any day on the north dial of the clock. We'll call him Am- brose Fecit." "Ambrose fecit! Why, my dear, do you know what that means?" "Of course, I do. It means that Mr. Fecit made that clock. And a very good clock it is, and a very pretty name too, and not very common either; for I never met any of the Fecits in the course of my life." "I dare say not," replied the hus- band,; nd he leaned against the bed- post-te latter part of the conversa- tion occurring as they were disrobing for rest-and laughed immoderately. And thus it was I had my name, and that was why I was bred a prin- ter. As for the unknown couple, no in- quiries could find them out, nor could John Guttenberg, in his after rambles through the town, ever recognize, the house from whence he had taken me. The after history of my life, up to the period when I met the Spaniard and his daughter, would show nothing remarkable. I was a healthy child and went through the perils of teeth- ing and the measles safely. John Guttenberg and his wife fulfilled their self-imposed task like good and con- scientious people. I was treated as though I were their own child, being duly lectured and birched when I was naughty, and cuddled and candied when I was not. When I was about four years old, Mrs. Guttenbarg pre- page: 16-17[View Page 16-17] sented her husband, greatly to his gratification -and her delight, with a daughter. Everybody- for people knew me to be a foundling, though they did not know the circumstances of my finding-declared that "my nose was put out of joint," and that I might now look out for neglect, if not positive ill-treatment. Everybody was mistaken. I was treated the same as usual. As for myself, I was too young to understand these predic- tions, of which I knew nothing until afterwards. But I was vastly delight- ed with the new-comer, on whom I used to gaze in the cradle with wrapt admiration. It was the dawning of an amiable weakness which followed me through life-a love and esteem for the opposite sex. As we grew up together I loved the little Mary more and more. I brought her home all my trophies in the shape of marbles and peg-tops; I expended my scanty pock- et-money in hard-bake and barley-su- gar for her particular benefit; and af- ter I had left school to be instructed in the mysteries of my protector's craft, I used to take surreptitious im- pressions of wood-cuts in colored inks, to ornamentherplay-house. I thought my sister-for such I believed her to be until good-natured strangers taught me better-to be the prettiest child in the world, my idea of beautiful eyes being those of a mottled, light hazel hue, and my type of symmetrical noses the pug. During the early part of my life, and more especially in the first year of my apprenticeship, I thought the Puttenham Chronicle to be the leading newspaper of the world; and I felt more awful reverence for Mr. Hincks, the editor, than I did for the Earl of 1 Landys, whose estate lay within a mile of town, or even the ady Oaro- line Bowlington, who came in her own coach once a year to make the Dowa- ger Countess of Landys a visit, and was the sole daughter of a Duke. For, did not Mr. Hincks handle not only Dukes and Marquesses without gloves, but even boldly attacked her Majesty's ministers-they being of the oppo- site party to ours? Did he not sneer at the French, who, to be sure, were not much, as they all wore wooden shoes, and lived on frogs, and spent the principal part of their lives in hair-dressing, and giving dancing-les sons to one-another-a poor, lean set of fellows, for any ten of whom a har- dy Briton was a match at any time? And did he not give, at times, a good setting-down to the Yankees, a nation of savages who spoke a kind of wild English, and scalped and ate their prisoners-whose women chewed to. bacco and spoke through their noses; a people who had behaved so badly that his Majesty, George the Third, after whipping them at Bunker Hill and Yorktown, and New Orleans, and I don't know how many more places, finally cast them off, and sent them about their own business, where they have been miserably ever since? Then there was my fellow-apprentice, Tom Brown, who set up all the leaders, and, in the absence of his master, even made up the form. My opinion of him was that he had great force of charac- ter, combined with great knowledge of the world, and had only to say the word, after he was out of his time, to be made a prime-minister, or a mem- ber of parliament, er a beadle, or some- thing else equally important. And the fishermen who came on market days, with fish from the little port of Puddleford, about five miles off, I re- garded as men who went down into the sea in ships, bold navigators who were ready to sail to the bottom of the Maelstrom, if needed; though I did find fault with them for not frequently hitching up their trousers by the waist- band, and imprecating their tarry top- lights, as the gallant sailor, who ap- peared in "Black-Eyed Seyeusan," when the players made their annual visit, invariably did. Having thus introduced myself to the reader, let us go back to the Spa- niard and the little girl. CHAPTER III., Wherein I become almost a Spanish Scholar, but lose both my Teachers. The next day Paul Baghy, having heard of my adventure, called at the printing-house. Learning that I was about to visit the patient, he volunteer- ed to accompany me, saying that in his two years' sketching tour on the Penin- sula he :had made himself a tolerable master of the Castilian. We found the Spaniard lying upon a couch, reading, while his little daughter sat near. He seemed glad to see me, and when I presented the artist, received him with all the courtesy that his constrained position would allow him to show. They entered into conversation in Spa- nish, at my instance, and while they were thus engaged, I watched the child, and noted the play of her fea- tures as she listened. Occasionally I joined in the conversation, Espinel ap- pealing to me at times in French. Their conversation, I found by this, had turned upon the Earl of Landys, who seemed to be a subject of deep interest to the Spaniard. The latter at length said to me in French: "Monsieur Baghy seems to admire milord Landees very much." "My faith 1" said Paul, in the same language, "the admiration is merely gratitude for patronage, of which I have received a deal through the Lan- dys' interest." "D'Alembert pronounced quite a pa- negyric upon Louis XIV., because the king sent forty arm-chairs to the Aca- demy," said the Spaniard. "Exactly," replied Paul, laughing, "I might have bought as many as forty sofas with the proceeds of Lord Landys: direct patronage, throwing aside the sitters he has sent me; consequently, common gratitude requires that I should admire him as much as D'Alembert did Louis XIV." "He is fond of pictures then. Has he many?" "Yes, and some very fine ones. His gallery contains a picture from every modern artist of note, with -some fine specimens of the masters. By the by, he has a picture painted by a foreign artist, the portrait of a monk, which, odd as it may seem, bears a striking resemblance to you, senior." "Indeed I by one of the old mas- ters?" "No; modern, undoubtedly." The surgeon now entered the room, and told us that the senior would not be able to go about for some days, as the internal injuries were severe. Bag- by translated this to the patient, who merely replied that it was unfortunate, as he desired to visit London at an ear- ly- date. Baghy now rose to leave, and I, promising to return in a few minutes, accompanied him down stairs. page: 18-19[View Page 18-19] "What do you think of the couple?" I asked, when we were fairly out of the room. "I think the child is the most beau- tiful creature of her age I ever saw," was the answer, "and I intend to paint her portrait. As for her father, he is no father at all, I fancy." "How do you come to that conclu- sion?" "A child always bears some resem- blance to each parent. It may be only such as those acquainted with those matters can point out; but it is always there. Sometimes the upper part of the head is that of the father, and the lower that of the mother, or vice versa. Then the face may be that of one pa- rent, when the back part of the head will have the configuration peculiar to that of the other, or the reverse. Again, there may be a mingling of the facial points. I have been studying the two with the eye of a naturalist, and the analytical habit of an artist, and the girl's face, head, and physical confor- mation, are totally unlike his, except in points that might be accidentally si- milar. Besides, he is a monk, or has been until recently." "How do you make that out?" "His head bears the mark of the ton- sure. The hair has been only suffered to grow a short while." "It may have been shaved through illness." "Not a bit of it. In that case the shaving would not have been so regu- lar, and scarcely on the top of the head. Then you must remember, that although she called him 'father,' and he address- ed her as 'daughter,' he spoke of her to me all through as 'this child,' 'this dear little girl,'-and so on." "But," said I, "he spoke of her to me as ' the child he was bound to pro- tect." "Precisely. It is not a parental ob- ligation, you see, on which a parent, taking it as a matter of course, would not insist. But you had better return to your Spaniard. I'll see you again, and we'll talk the matter over farther. Call on me to-morrow before you come here, and I will show you how far I have gone in the way of painting her." "Do you expect her to sit, then?" "Sit? No. A face so remarkable is easily painted from memory. I won't get its character and expression out of my mind for a twelvemonth." He left, and I returned to Espinel. The latter was reading when I came in, but put the book down. "Do not let me interrupt you," said I. "If you are interested, go on; but first tell me if I can order anything new for you of the landlord." "No; I am quite comfortable, and if you will, would prefer to talk." He then asked me a great many questions about the town and its vici- nity, more particularly about the Lan- dys family, all of which I answered as well as I could. At length he said: "How long since you commenced to study French?" "About a year since." "Are there many French people in this town?" "Only one that I know-the gentle- man who gave me less6ns-M. de Lille." "You must have great aptitude for acquiring languages. Your accent is defective in part, but wonderfully good to have been acquired during a year. How would you like to study Spanish?" "Very much." "Repeat this ;" and he uttered a few words in Castilian. I obeyed. "Very good; very good, indeed," said he, while the little girl clapped her hands in delight. "You have caught the accent perfectly. You would find the Spanish quite easy to master. Once learn the alphabetical sounds, and all after that is an effort of memory. I know most European languages, but not English. I have been thinking, as I have nothing better to do while fastened here, that I would like to change lessons with you. I could get along fastly, for I am familiar with the Low Dutch, which is nearly identical with the Low Saxon, one of the parents of the English tongue. You shall teach me English, and I will return it with Spanish." I acceded to the proposition, and the lessons began. We continued our studies all the time the Spaniard remained in Putten- ham. In a little time I had mastered the sounds of the Spanish language, and a good many phrases, as well as the forms of its verbs. I was less for- tunate as a teacher than pupil. Espi- nel found it very difficult to get over some of our peculiar sounds, and our exceptional orthography became a great stumbling-block. Fortunately there was in our printing-room a Spanish grammar and dictionary, kept to de- termine the proper spelling of Spanish words, when such had to be used in the Chronicle, and these books were of great assistance. It was nearly four weeks before Se- nor Espinel was able to rise and walk about the room. The shock had been a severe one to a man over fifty-six- for such he told me was his age-and his recovery was slow. So earnestly did I'labor during this time that I had acquired quite a smattering of Casti- lian, and managed not only to trans- late rapidly with the aid of the dic- tionary, but to keep up a brisk conver- sation on ordinary subjects. I found myself, however, better able to con- verse with the child than the old man. Her prattle, simple as it was, I readily understood, and my interest in her was so deep, that it became my greatest delight to talk with her. Zara, for such was her name, had by this time -grown quite attached to me, and would come and sit on my knee, and lay her head on my shoulder, while I told her some nursery ballad, or fairy story, in my imperfect Spanish; or would prattle to me in a curious mixture of her own language with English, which last tongue she acquired faster than Espi- nel. The Senor Jose, meanwhile, with a table wheeled up to where he sat, worked hard in translating some Eng- lish book, and occasionally interrupted Zara and me to ask me the proper form of some verb, or an explanation of a difficult idiom. How tenderly I loved that pure and affectionate child I How delighted I was with her growing at- tachment to me I At length the Senor Espinel was able to walk without serious difficulty, and managed to call on Mr. Gutten- berg, and thank him for permitting my attendance. My protector received him civilly enough, but did not feel prepossessed in his favor. This arose from the fact that Paul Baghy, then in London, had intimated, previously to his departure, that Espinel was, or had been a monk. With all his many good qualities, John Guttenberg had a strong sectarian prejudice. I left the Espineis one night about page: 20-21[View Page 20-21] ten o'clock, having shaken hands with Don Jose, and kissed little Zara, who always remained up from rest until I left. She said, as we parted: "Good night, brother Ambrosio. Some day Zara grow great big; then she spick English much gooder as now." I smoothed her hair with my hand, and turned to go. As I left the land- lord came with a letter which had ar- rived by the evening mail, directed to the Senor Jose Espinel. I noticed that it had the London mark. The next day, at noon, I went to see my friends as usual, and was told that the Spaniard and his daughter had ta- ken places the night before in the mail- coach for London, and had departed at daybreak. "He left this for you," said the land- lord. I tore open the letter. It was in French, and read in English thus: "I My dear young friend-A letter, received as you left us last night, called me direct to London, without an opportunity to bid you more than this farewell, or to express, as I ought, my sense of your kindness. Zara sends her love to you, and the enclosed sou- venir. May God have you in his holy keep- ing. "JOSE ESPINEL." Enclosed in the letter-was a packet, containing a lock of hair, which I knew at once to be Zara's. CHAPTER IV., Which details singular events, including a fresh Mystery, and introduces the Right Honorable the Earl of Landys. About two months after Zara and her father had left the town, Tom Brown, who had been over to the shop for copy, told me that a package ad- dressed to me had arrived by the car- rier from London. For I. must men- tion that our printing-house was a back building, in the rear of a piece of ground on which the book-shop and dwelling-house was built, and faced on a ten foot alley behind. I asked Tom what the package was like, and why he did not bring it with him. "It is thin," answered he, "and looks like a big atlas, wrapped up in brown paper. I'd have brought it in, Brosy, my boy, and charged you a pint of beer for carrying it, only they wouldn't let me. The Governor," mean- ing thereby his master, "said you were to come in the shop shortly, as he wanted to see you. He is in a terri- ble state of excitement, I can tell you, about the skeleton they picked up this morning, and has got the traps they dug out with it." "I'll go as soon as I fill my stick," said I. "What skeleton, and where did they find it?" "You know Sharp's old rookery, in the Ram's Horn?" The Ram's Horn was the cant name given to a crooked lane in the outskirts of the town, inhabited by the poorest class of people. "Yes," I replied, "it tumbled down during the last storm." "Exactly; very much tumbled; went all to crash. Sharp sold it a little while since to Bingham, who also bought the three next to it, and is about to build his new brew-house there. They've been clearing out ruins and digging foundations all last week. This morning, right in the center of what used to be the cellar of Sharp's house, they came across a skeleton, in some rotten clothes. Old Dr. Craig says that the bones belonged to a wo- man. The gold sleeve-buttons of the chemise were there, and a gold pin, with a sky-blue stone in it, and some queer-shaped letters on the back; the woman's name, I suppose." "What was the name?" "Queer-very-V. M. Taw. Mrs. Taw must have been made away with, and buried there; at least that is everybody's say-so. They found a dag- ger there, the rummiest kind of a knife, with a blade as crooked as a dog's hind-leg, and a carved wooden handle, partly rotten. The Governor heard of it, and he bought all the things. I think he means to keep 'em in the shop to draw custom. Old Sharp tried to get them for the Museum, but the Go- vernor was too quick for him. He is in a terrible pother about something." "Who? Sharp?" "No; our old man. He and the mistress are holding a grand confabu- lation. I heard 'em mention your name as I went in." I finished my task, washed my hands, put off-my apron, and went to the house. Mary Guttenberg, a girl of fourteen, just turning into womanhood, was sewing in the back part of- the shop. Her father and mother were in- side of the counter. Before them were various articles, including the things Tom had spoken of. As I came for- ward, Mrs. Guttenberg pointed to the larger package. I undid the fasten- ings, and, after removing the wrapper, and two stout bits of binder's bands, placed on either side to preserve it from injury, I found a portrait, one-fourth size, of Zara Espinel. From the P. B. in the left-hand corner, I knew it to be the work of Paul Baghy. As I opened it I discovered a letter, addressed to me. When I had admired the portrait sufficiently, I opened the letter. Itwas from Paul, dated at London, and these' were the contents: "My dear little type-sticker: "Herewith you have a copy of my portrait of little Zara, whose untimely fate in being whisked away by a grim, grey-bearded ogre, you have so much lamented. I think that I have not only caught the features, but the whole spirit of her 'extraordinary face. I should like your criticism on that point, for you were so fond of her that her expression must be firmly fixed on your mind. "Apropos to Zara-who do you think Isaw in the Park yesterday? No other than that mysterious Don, the Senor Espinel., My conjecture concerning him was right. Don Jose is Fray Jose. He wore the suit of black, with the cut and style of the ecclesiastic. He was in a coach, with a coat of arms on the panel, but it drove off and past before I could make out more than a ducal coronet. I was on foot-what right has a poor devil of an artist to ride anything but Shank's mare? Our eyes met, and I bowed. ie looked at me superciliously, as much ao to say, 'And who are you, pray? It was a cut--cool as a cucumber-unless I am very much mistaken There seemed to me to be a twitching about the corners of his mouth, as though he en- joyed my discomfiture. I felt annoyed, and have made up my mind to pick up a quarrel with his reverence on the first opportunity. Zara was not with him. I should like to kknow where he has bestowed her. Would not you? "I have afamous commission. I am to make a series of paintings for a wealthy Yankee-at least he came from New York, and I presume he is an American. He wants a set of pictures, without limit as to number, of English life and scenery. He is a perfect magnific: o-as stately and proud as a baron of old-and has lots of tin. His name is Archbold. '* Give my compliments to the worthypub- lisher of that astounding print, the Putten- ham Chronicle, and teal the redabteur-en chef that ministers tremble at the thunders he hurls, and the world generally shakes at his fulminations as usual. I have three pictures ready for the exhibition of this year, where- from I expect great fame, unless the hanging committee treat me unfairly, and elevate my offspringforty cubits high. I have known vagabonds to do such things.' page: 22-23[View Page 22-23] The rest of the letter was filled with gossip. I put it down and turned to view the picture again, which Mary Guttenburg, who had laid down her work for the purpose, now held in her hand. "How pretty she is!" exclaimed Mary, and her father and mother echoed her comment. The likeness was won- derfully correct. The artist had caught the expression of tenderness peculiar to her face, the liquidity of her dark eyes, and all the poetry of her clouds of dark hair. He had brought to his task the whole force of his genius, and every resource of his art. "What a sweet face!" continued Mary. "Beautiful, indeed!" said a voice be- hind us. We turned, and to our astonishment stood the Earl of Landy's, who bowed slightly and apologetically. But the bend of his body was entirely wasted on a part of the by-standers. Mr. John Guttenberg was filled with all that servile deference to a peer which marks the true English tradesman, Had the Right Honorable John, Earl of Landys, ex-member of the Privy Council, con- descended to have thrown a flip-flap then and there-an outrageous impts. sibility to suggest, I admit-my worthy patron would have thought it in nowise incompatible with the dignity of the peerage. He would have gone into ecstacies at the agility of the noble- man, and would have avowed at once that no one below the rank of a mar. ques could have thrown such a flip-flap as that. He felt honored by the ill-bred peeping of the peer. All the Guttenburgs bowed pro. foundly; and the head of the family, with a smiling face and a rubbing of the palms of the hands together-a trick of his when desiring to be very courteous-inquired in what way he could have the honor of serving his lordship. "I called, Mr. Guttenburg," said the Earl, " to say I would like to have the last new novel, if it be in." I said to myself- "That is not true, my lord. You would have it sent you by the carrier from London; or, had you wanted it from us, would have despatched a ser- vant to obtain it. You have some other motive for this extraordinary visit." However, though I thought all this I said nothing aloud, of course, but merely stood there in a respectful atti- tude waiting to hear more. Mr. Guttenburg took down the book from the shelf, and did it up carefully in white paper, offering 'to send it by me, but the Earl said he would take it himself, and threw down the subscrip- tion-money. "Can I have the honor to serve your lordship in any other way?" inquired the zealous bookseller. '"Will your lordship condescend to accept a copy of this week's Chronicle? You will find your lordship's recent arrival at Landys Castle respectfully noticed un- der the proper head. Will your lord- ship deign to be seated?" But his lordship preferred to stand. ' Is that picture for sale?" he asked. "Of course, your lordship. That is, it belongs to my adopted son there, Ambrose, (pay your respects to :his lordship, sir,) and no doubt he would be glad to dispose of it if your lord- ship wished." And the bookseller con- torted his brows and looked at me as much as to say-" "Why don't you of- fer it to him at once?" But I was determined not to part with the picture at all and said- "It is a gift from a friend, and there- fore your lordship will see, cannot be sold." "It is a very fine picture. What artist?" "Mr. Paul Baghy my lord." "Ah, yes I I see his mark. I might have known his style. I would like to have a copy." "This is a copy, my lord. He re- tains the original." "Is it a fancy sketch or from life?" "From life, my lord." "Indeed I a very beautiful child then. I am much struck with the face and will write to Mr. Bagh y on the sub- ject. By the by, Mr. Guttenberg, what is this story about a skeleton having been found in the town? They tell me that you have some' curious relics." "Yes, your lordship," replied the printer; "and Mrs. Guttenberg and myself-let me have the honor of pre- senting Mrs Guttenberg to your lord- ship's notice-were discussing the mat- ter just before your lordship entered the shop. It is very singular taken in connection with the other circumstan- ces; very singular indeed, your lord- ship." "Is there a story, then?" "Yes, your lordship. Pray be seat- ed, my lord. I am pained to see your lordship standing. Mary, my dear, you may resume your former seat back there." Mary retreated to the rear of the shop, with a vexed expression on her coun. tenance; but she endeavored to listen as well as the distance would permit. "You see, your lordship, that my wife and I are of the opinion that the skeleton is connected with the history of this boy. If your lordship will deign to listen, you shall judge for yourself. Don't go, Ambrose," continued he as I made a motion to leave, "I intend to give his lordship your real history which you have never heard yourself.' e then detailed the circumstances I have before given to the readers of the events of the night in which I came into his charge, and displayed the jew- elry and articles received with me, dwelling on the fact that the pin or brooch recently found matched the bracelet before had, and bore an in- sciiption similar to that on the inside of the ring. I took up the pin as he spoke, and saw, deeply engraven on. the back: V M..TAAW "And was the package the woman gave you ever found 7" inquired Lord Landys, when the printer had finished his narration. "Never, your lordship?" "Your adopted son does you credit," said the Earl. 'I hear that he is a. young man of correct deportment and very studious, as well as proficient in two or three languages. If he desire it, he can have the use of mny library occasionally. I will speak to Mr. Os- born, my steward, to that effect on my return to the castle." I bowed my acknowledgment of the favor, and Mr. Guttenberg rubbed his hands and bobbed his head with great assiduity. "And this portrait, you say Mr.-- Mr.-" "Fecit, my lord." suggested Mrs. Guttenberg. page: 24-25[View Page 24-25] "Ah, yes! thank you. This por- trait you say, Mr. Fecit, is from life. Did I hear you mention the name of the party?" "Her name is Zara, my lord. She is the daughter of a Spaniard who was in this town some few months back, and who met with an accident which de- layed him for several weeks." "Ah, yes I I remember. You res- cued the child, I believe. I think I read some account of it either in, or ,copied from the Chronicle. I believe ;also, and here the nobleman fixed his eyes full on mine, "that this same Spaniard did me the honor to inquire iconcerning me." How did he know that? I had nev- wer mentioned it to any one. I felt a a little embarrassed, having no idea how far the queries might be pushed; but I answered: "He did make some inquires con- cerning matters of interest in the neighborhood, among the rest about your lordship's place and asked ques- tions about your lordship's family; but those were such as strangers are apt -to put." "May I ask who he was and what the was?" 'Senor Jose Espinel, my lord, I do not know his profession, if he had any; that is not beyond doubt," "You conjecture then?" "Another does. It has been sug- gested to me that he was a monk or something of that sort." "Was the child his daughter?" "I cannot say, my lord." "Will you do me the favor to des- cribe the man?" "I complied as accurately as I was able, for though I felt the querist was endeavoring to get from me all the in- formation he could, there was no rea- son why I should withhold what he wanted, and I was anxious to discover the cause of his manifest interest, and thought that full replies might lead to a probable conjecture on my part. The Earl mused a moment and then said: "Did you notice anything peculiar in his person or manner?" This was said carelessly, but at the lattea part of the sentence his voice, as I thought treiimbled a little. I watched him, therefore, curiously as I replied: "Nothing, my lord, in his manner, more than the profusion of gesture common to most foreigners; and noth- ing on his person except a blood-mark on his right wrist shaped like a cross." The Earl turned pale and shivered as though he were cold. He dropped the subject, and turning toward the counter took up the rusted and crooked dagger. "I recognize this kind of weapon," said he. "This is a krees, a dagger used by the Malays. I passed three months on the island of Sumatra, with my late cousin, years since, and be- came well acquainted with their lan- guage and costume. Indeed, one rea- son why I have proffered Mr. Fecit here the use of my library is that I learn that he is fond of the study of languages. Having some pretensions to be a linguist, myself, I sympathise with his pursuit." "May I presume, said my patron to ask your lordship a question?" "Do so." "The tall dark man of whom I told you, spoke to the lady in a strange lenguage. I remember one one word which seemed to have a powerful effect. It was, near as I can make out the sound, diyum!" "The word, I think, is Malay. It sounds very near the word for silence in that language." "Pray, my lord," said I, "is this in- scription in the Malay character?" and I pointed to the letters on the brooch. "No; these seem to be the rude at- tempts of some foreigner to form Eng- lish characters." After some general conversation, Captain Berkely and another officer came in the shop, and his lordship, af- ter nodding to them, turned to leave the shop, accompanied to the door by the obsequious printer. "Well, old fellah," said Berkely, when the printer returned, "what was Lord Toplofty doing here, eh?" "His lordship has been paying his subscription to the library, captain. Bless me, if his lordship hasn't left the novel. His lordship has only gone a few steps. Run after him, Ambrose, and hand it to him, with my respectful compliments." CHAPTER V., In which I meet with the Dowager Countess, and see a strange portrait. His lordship kept his word as a noble- man should. Mr. Osborne, the stew- ard, called at the shop a few days af- terward, and told me that I had per- mission to read in the library of the castle at suitable hours. These suita- ble hours I found, upon inquiry, were from three to six in the afternoon, while the family were there, and at any hours I might choose when the family were away. The time first named interfered with my duties in the composing-room, but Mr. Guttenberg looked upon the permission as an express command from an authority not to be contemned, and insisted that'I should spend the time set down for me among his loroshipl' books. I was readily obedient, for I thus had a field of study opened to me, otherwise far beyond my reach. I found the library to be a full one-the rarest and finest editions of new and old works occupying the shelves. It struck me that neither the earl nor his visitors ever troubled the library, unless per- chance to lounge there, since none of the works on the shelves bore traces of frequent use. My mind did not dwell on that fact. I thought only of enjoying the advantages which I pos- sessed. Among the volumes were grammars and dictionaries of all the European languages, and some of Asi- atic tongues, besides a few hundred of the writings of various foreign authors in the original. My fondness for ac- quiring languages found new stimulus and satisfaction, and I applied myself earnestly to a pursuit which some wiould have called a task, Time passed for several months with little incident worthy of notice. I heard nothing of Zara or her father in the meanwhile, and it was only at rare in- tervals that they came to my memory. I was lost in my rambles through a new world. My ordinary life was sim- ply monotonous, the same round of em- ployment in the printing-room or circu- lating library, and I made no acquaint- ance beyond our circle of patrons, with whom I was a favorite. The officers of the regiment, through Berkely, had me in to assist when they gave ama- teur dramatic performances, but this was only an occasional amusement. The servants at the castle got to know me very well, and often amused me by a bit of gossip concerning the family, or an anecdote of one of its members. To all these I listened, but made no page: 26-27[View Page 26-27] comments. I was naturally fond of talking, but I was naturally prudent. This was soon discovered, and I be- came gradually the depository of a deal of secret history, useless enough, but very amusing. Among other facts, I speedily learn- ed that the Dowager Countess of Lan- dys, the mother of the late earl, was nearly imbecile-so much so that she was constantly attended to by her maid, a woman who had been brought up in the family; and that the present earl suffered her to retain the apart- mnents she had occupied during her son's life-time. She was said to have become insane on receiving the news of her son's shipwreck; but the violent paroxysms ceased, leaving her mind in a state approaching idiocy, and giving rise to a few harmless peculiarities. Her cousin, Lady Caroline Bowlington, was the only one who had the power to interest her. During her short year- ly visit the countess seemed to rally, and her mind resumed its normal con- dition. On the departure of her cousin there was an apparent relapse. I also became well acquainted with the steward, Mr. Osborne. He was quite a fine gentleman in manners, and had the entire confidence of his noble master. Indeed it was remarked by many that the consultations between the two were conducted on a footing of equality, and that the manner of the steward to the peer was that of one who felt secure of his position under all circumstances. No one knew the origin of this Mr. Osborne. He came when the wearer of the title succeeded to the earldom, having been summoned from a distance. It was said that they traveled together abroad, and had been connected for many years. People wondered how the servant maintained such absolute control over the master, for it was evident that the smooth, smirking and dapper gentleman lost a portion of his deferential manner when conversing with his patron, and paid but little heed to the commands gene- rally put as suggestions of the latter. There was some secret in this which none had been able to discover. I made no effort to penetrate it. It was no af- fair of mine. Thus it passed until about a year af- ter the rescue of Zara, when, as I sat one day in my customary place in the library, Lord Landys entered. I rose to go, but he bade me remain and be seated. He took up the book I had been reading, the Deing Navodu Cres- keho, of Francis Palacky, and put me some questions as to its contents, pos- sibly to ascertain what progress I had made in the language in which it was written. At length he said: "Do you keep up communication with your mysterious Spanish friend still, Mr. Fecit?" "No, my lord," was my answer. "I have not heard of him or of his daugh- ter, for a long while." "I should have thought Mr Baghy would have kept you advised of their movements." "No, my lord. He never mentions them in the occasional letters I receive from him, and I suppose is as ignorant of their whereabouts as I." "Hardly since he painted the little Zara's portrait." "That was a sketch from memory, my lord. She has a striking face, apt to fix its features in an artist's mind." "You are to be free of your inden- tures in a couple of years, I believe," continued the earl. "Have you thought on your future pursuits?" "Not particularly, my lord. I shall be a printer, of course." "Your information and quickness," said he, and I rose and bowed an ac- knowledgment of the compliment, "lift you out of that sphere of life. There are few avenues for ambition in Eng- land, without the command of money and connexions, but abroad you might rise rapidly." "It is possible, my lord," I replied; "but it would require means there too." "Those might be found. I have in- fluence with the present ministry, and could procure you a creditable posi- tion in India. The road there to repu- tation and wealth is not yet choked up. At least, youth, health, talent and enterprise might remove all ob- stacles." "I thank your lordship, but I have no desire to abandon the land where I was born." "Are you sure that you were born here, at all?" was the quick reply. I was startled at the question, and the tone in which it was uttered. Be- fore I could frame an answer, he con- tinued-- "I do not mean to wound your feel- ings at all, but you know your own history, and you might have been born in France, you know. Think on my proposition well before you reject it. It gives you an opportunity which you can never have upon the soil of England. But perhaps you are deter- mined to remain here in order to in- vestigate the mystery of your birth." "No," I replied, "I have thought of that, but there seems to be no clue. The loss of the packet of papers by Mr. Guttenberg is irreparable. I shall not waste time in a fiuitless pursuit. When I come to grapple with the world I will do it boldly, and I will allow no vain object to weaken my efforts." "You are ambitious, then," said the earl, as he arose to leave the room "Think well on India-wealth and dis- tinction." Without reflecting any more on his offers, I resumed my reading, when he had retired. How long I read it is impossible to say, but I had certainly gone through a great number of pages, when I heard the rustling of silk, and, looking up, beheld a very old woman regarding me with apparent interest. There was something startling in the apparition. The features, from the indications presented, must at one time have been handsome; age had not entirely des- troyed their pleasing regularity of out- line; but the soul which formerly ani- mated them was clouded. In strange contrast with the brilliant black eyes, and the white hair which escaped in masses from beneath the laced cap, was the vacant expression about the mouth, whose puckered lips, slightly parted, disclosed the toothless gums. The old woman looked at me intently, and then muttered something which I could not distinguish. This was fol- lowed by the words, plainly uttered: "Her son I it must be; yes, look at the ear." I recovered from my astonishment at length, and, rising, bowed respect- fully; for I was sure that this was the Dowager Countess of Landys. She motioned me to resume my seat, and when I hesitated, sank in a chair, and waving her hand, said in a peremptory way: "Sit, sir 1" I obeyed, and she still kept her eyes fixed on me, the features lighting up, page: 28-29[View Page 28-29] and the vacant expression quite gone. I was meditating how to escape the painful scrutiny, when she spoke again, and this time in a voice of, ten- derness: "I have not seen you for many days, my son. Why do you mourn her loss still? She was not worthy of you. I told you in the beginning how it would be. Let her go." I made no answer. What could I have said? "He will come again," continued the Countess, now apparently .talking to herself. "I know it. He will come again. What the living promised the dead would do, were the body a hun- dred fathoms beneath the sea. The dead has never come, and the living will." The interview with one thus crazed became so embarrassing that I was about to escape it by flight, when the steward entered the room. The Coun. tess glared at him for a moment, rose, and walked with a haughty, and, for her years, a vigorous step from the li- brary. "Were you much disturbed, Am- brose?" inquired Osborne. "Yes, sir ; and in some fear, though she has been here but a few minutes. It is the Dowager Countess-is it not?" "Yes. It is singular that she said nothing to you. She is very apt to make queer remarks to strangers." "She did say something," I said, and repeated her words. "Do you understand it?" he inquir- ed. Now, why should he ask that? Why should I understand it? Is there some secret here they fear I may fathom? These were the questions that I in- stantly put to myself. Buttto Osborne I merely gave a negative to his ques- tion. "She sometimes eludes the vigilance of her attendant," he said, " and goes wandering about in this strange kind of way, startling visitors with all kinds of queer sayings. She often fancies if she meets with a stranger that he must be her son. She has never recovered the late earl's loss." "Her ladyship seems to be very old," I said. "Yes; but I merely came to get a book, and will not disturb you." Mr. Osborne selected a book from the shelves, and left the room. I resumed my study, but was doom- ed to another interruption. I heard the door open, and on looking around, saw another stranger. The last intruder was a woman, neat- ly clad in black, apparently a kind of domestic. She was about forty years of age, with bold, strong features, short in stature, rather stout, but not fat. Her eyes were grey, and were fixed on me in some surprise. "I beg pardon, sir," she said, "but I have missed the Countess Dowager, and looked to see if she were here. She sometimes comes in the library-" "Ah I you are her attendamntthen?" "Yes, sir." "She was here, but left when Mr. Osborne came." "She does not like him-who does? I hope you won't think me imperti- nent, but pray who are you, sir?" "My name is Ambrose Fecit. I am Mr. Guttenberg's apprentice and adopt- ed son." "A printer's boy I How singular 1" I was amused at the tone in which the words were uttered, and the look of wonder in her face. "Pray," I inquired, " is it singular that I should be a printer's apprentice, or that, being a printer's apprentice, I should be seated here?" "No, it was not that; but the like- ness was so strong." "What likeness?" "Yours; you look like the portrait in the north gallery." ' Whose portrait?" I'm sure I don't know. The butler says he was a pirate. It has hung there for years. The late earl brought it here. Would you like to see it?" "Very much," I replied. "Come with me, and I will show you." "But," I said, "I have only the pri- vilege of the library, and doubt if that permission extends to any other part of the castle." "Oh, the north gallery is a show- room?" "But the Countess may want you." "No, she always keeps herself alone for an hour or so after she meets a stranger." I was curious to see the portrait, and so, without farther objections, I accompanied the woman, who told me that her name was Gifford. She led me to the north gallery, and there pointed out the portrait. Certainly the features on the canvass and my own were strikingly alike-at least as far as the upper part of the face went; but the mouth in the por- trait was broader, and the chin heavier and squarer than mine. The portrait was a full length like- ness of a man apparently about twen- ty-five. The costume was oriental, but of what particular country in the east I chuld not say. "You say this was a pirate," I ask- ed, after I had looked at it well. "The butler, who served the former earl, says so," answered she. "For my part, I know nothing about it. He was a foreigner of some kind. My lord sent it home from abroad, when he was a young man. Before he went away f6r the last time he would stand before the picture for hours, or rather he would walk the gallery for hours, and stop every now and .then before the picture, and look at it. He did not appear to be fond of the man it was like, either. He would scowl at it in a way that was fearful. The servants say"-and here she looked around cau- tiously-" that every year, on the day my lord was born-that is the late earl-the picture walks." I laughed. "It is silly, I know," she said, " but there is one thing quite certain; I saw that faceonce--whether a ghost or alive, I don't know. It was the year before my lord came back the last time. I had to cross the gallery late at night. I had a candle in my hand, and stopped to look at the picture as I passed. I went on, after I had-taken a look, and just as I reached yonder door, which was my lord's chamber, it opened. As the door was kept locked always dur- ing my lord's absence, it startled me a deal. I turned to look, ahd saw a fig- ure wrapped in a dark cloak. My light fell on the face." "Well?" said I, for she paused. "It was the face of the picture," said she. "I could not be mistaken. I dropped the light and ran. The house was alarmed, and when all gathered there, the door was found locked. It was opened, and as no trace could be found of any one, they all said I dream- page: 30-31[View Page 30-31] ed the matter." "What did the earl say to it when he came back?" "He never knew it. My lady, his mother, forbade any of us to tell him. But I must go, lest my lady want me. You do look like the picture-very much-especially that look from the eyes." And Gifford left me alone. I looked a little while longer at the portrait, and then returned to the li- brary, where I sat down, and began to think. According to Guttenberg, the man who gave me in his charge was a foreigner. Could this be he? His likeness to me, too Could he have been my father? How was I to learn more of this strange portrait, and the name of the original? While I was engaged in these reflections, the steward came in to replace the book he had taken away. "Has the Countess. Dowager been here since?" "No," I replied, " but her attendant has." "Ah!" he ejaculated. "A strange creature is Gifford-a woman of strong prejudices. I have had to talk sharply to Gifford, once or twice, and she don't like me much." '"Mr. Osborne," I said, looking him full in the face, "there is a portrait in the gallery yonder, which is said to be that of a pirate. May I ask who he was?" "Did you see it?" "Yes." "Well, it is nobody; a mere fancy piece. The servants have an absurd notion that it represents a pirate." "Does it not, then?" "No more than it does his lordship, or his lordship's son, or me. It was picked up abroad by the late earl, I believe, at a sale' somewhere on the continent. It is a very odd picture, but is said to be a very good piece of painting." "The likeness to me, then, would ap- pear to be accidental, after all?" "Entirely so." I did not believe him, and for a plain reason. The gay cloak or robe on the picture was fastened by a belt, clasped by turquoises; the striped jacket was buttoned at the neck, with a brooch exactly like that found in the old house in the Ram's Horn ; there was a crook- ed dagger in the sash around the waist; and on the dagger's handle were several characters similar to those on the inside of the ring which had been found suspended from my neck. CHAPTER VI., Wherein another Chip is thrown into the current of my Life, and I hearfrom Zara. All these events began to shape themselves into a problem. "Who am I? What am I?" were the questions to be solved. Thus it was that I fre- quently reviewed the incidents con- nected with my life, and wondered whether the missing links in the chain would be supplied. The facts might be connected with a common-place ori- gin-perhaps a base one, after all; still there was an air of romance about them, and I was at an age when ro- mance had full control over the mind. There was first a child with certain tokens, delivered to a printer in the town of Puttenham. One of these to- kens was a wedding-ring, with a sin- gular posy; the other, a packet. The packet, which I conjectured to contain the proofs of a marriage, was gone, but the ring remained. Then in the house that would seem to be the one where the child had been entrusted to the printer's care, certain relics were found, one of which contained letters similar to those in the ring. Then the portrait in the gallery, with its strange resemblance to me, and with the same sort of mysterious letters on the dagger-blade; and the singular appearance of the original to Gifford. The bones in Sharp's house-were they those of the woman? Was she my mother? Had she been murdered? Admitting the packet to contain evi- dences of marriage-a conjecture-and that it were ever recovered-a remote possibility-how to identify me? These questions, and others as use- less, frequently occurred to me. To what end? The packet was gone ir- recoverably-trampled in the snow of that night-utterly defaced; the mo- ther dead; the mysterious stranger dead too, perhaps, or interested in keep- ing silence. Suppose all elucidated. I might prove after all to be a-my face red- dened then. Better to be a child of mystery than of shame. And yet the questions would come again-"Who am I? What am I?" Time went on in the meanwhile. I studied hard at the earl's books, and each step made the next easier. The people of the town thought me a pro- digy of learning, and I was not dis- pleased with the vulgar admiration. I had vanity-who pas not? and it was tickled. No foreigner, high or low, ever entered the town, but my name was mentioned to him, and we were i speedily brought in contact. I was, beyond dispute, the great linguist of / Puttenham. This was of service to me. I acquired greater colloquial in- tercourse with several modern lan- guages, and ease of manner. The mu- nicipal dignitaries honored me with their nod; and even the proud Earl of Landys condescended to speak of me as a remarkable boy. With the mill tary officers, and the patrons of the library, I still continued to be a favor- ite. As I was tall for my age, well- knit, and with handsome features, the young ladies of the place looked on me pleasantly, and the matrons with a for- bidding air. For you see I was no- body; my very name was notmy own; and, though Mr. Guttenberg had adopt- ed me, I might not be co-heir'with his daughter after all. I was not a desira. ble match in the eyes of prudent mo- thers, among the trades-folk of the town. A strange kind of friendship sprang up between me and Gifford. She would often slip into the library when I was there, and interrupt my reading with reminiscences of the Landys fa- mily, of whose history she was a walk- ing chronicle. I asked her but few questions, contenting myself with play- ing the part of a listener; but there were two points on which I wished to be enlightened. One was about the portrait that Baghy mentioned as re- sembling Espinel; the other what the dowager countess meant, if there was any meaning to the words, by saying: "The dead has not come, and the liv- ing will." Gifford readily answered both ques- tions. "I know nothing about the picture. I recollect there was one in my lord's chamber, such as you describe, but it has been removed, I think. As for her page: 32-33[View Page 32-33] ladyship's words, they refer to a pro- mise of her son. The old lady believes in spirits coming back to this world and appearing to their friends, if they want to. Why shouldn't she? You do, don't you?" As Gifford evidently did, and I had no desire to discuss the point, I said evasively: "Oh, that point is settled among all sensible people; but I don't see what that has to do with the words." "Why, you see, the late earl was very fond of his mother, and she of him. Somehow he never believed in ghosts and such things-though there was a spirit in the family once-I'll tell you about that some other time; and they used to dispute about it a good deal, only in a good-natured way. I was busy doing something one day in the countess's chamber, and her son was there, and they'd been talking over the matter. Said his lordship, said he: "' We'll settle the matter practical- ly, mother. If I die before you, and am able to do so, I will come to see you after death, and let you know how I like the other world; and you shall do the same with me.' "The countess she spoke up and said, says she: "'That I solemnly promise to do, George.' ' Now as he has never made his ap- pearance to her, and she knows he would keep his word, that's what she means by saying that the dead hadn't come, and the living would." "But," said I, " there can be no doubt of the earl's death." "It seems not, but her ladyship don't believe it." One thing Gifford was not communi- cative upon-her own history; but I learned that from others. She was an orphan child, reared by the dowager countess's direction, and in due time promoted to be her maid. Despite her apparent love of tattling, she was close in regard to some things, and was, be- yond doubt, the confidante of her noble mistress. What she said to me, there- fore, I at once divined was not meant to be a secret, at least from me. Beside Gifford, I made another friend, and a very singular one, about this time. The reader will remember that the old house in the Ram's Horn be- longed to one Sharp. This Sharp, whose Christian name was Abner, was a singular character. No man was more generally execrated and abhorred by his townsmen. He was a thin, pinched, cadaverous old man, appa- rently about sixty, with a high and narrow forehead, a thin nose, orna- mented with a knob, like a mighty pimple, at the tip, and a round, long chin. His eyes were small, keen and restless, keeping up an uneasy motion all the while; and he had a remarka- ble and noted habit of casting alarmed glances from time to time over his shoulder. He was said to be enor- mously rich, owning houses upon houses, holding bonds and mortgages innumerable, and loaning money at usurious interest. Yet he was so par- simonious that he denied himself ne- cessary food and proper clothing; and he lived in the garret of one of his own houses, the other floors being let to the poorest class of people. This Sharp I knew by sight very well, as did every one else in town, and I had had at times some conversation with him. He owned the house and premises which Mr. Guttenberg occupied, and used to come on quarter-day, exactly on the stroke of twelve, to receive his rent. He was also the proprietor of the Mu- seum of the town, a place got up by a Yankee speculator, as a resort for the people of the surrounding country, on holidays; but which proved to be a failure. However such a thing might do in America, itfailed here; but Sharp had taken it in lieu of a debt, and it be- came his only apparent delight. He used to gloat over its quaint treasures, its mummies, stuffed beasts, stones and butterflies; its pickled heads of New Zealanders, birds and wax figures. Nay, he even expended money on it; not only buying any double-headed calf, or four-legged chicken that came along, but absolutely going to some expense by advertising each new pos- session in the Puttenham Chronicle, and having placards printed to post upon dead walls and pumps, and to place in the tap-rooms. Through his visits to the printing-room, I came to know Sharp tolerably well, and as I treated him'with a sort of patronizing deference, we became quite familiar. The truth is that I pitied the poor wretch in spite of his large posses- sions, and felt commisseration for the miserable being who, in the midst of wealth, felt the pangs of poverty. He returned this by a number of parsimo- nious proverbs, and much good money- making advice. There was no obliga- tion incurred on either side. Each could well spare what he parted with, and the gifts given were not of the least use to the recipients. A striking incident made us quite in- timate. One day in winter, the quarter-day, Sharp came to collect his rent. The weather was more damp than cold; the snow which had fallen the night before had melted, and when Sharp en- tered he presented a pitiable -sight. His face looked blue, with the excep- tion of his nose, which glowed like the tip of a carbuncle, and he trembled with weakness and cold. He was thin- ly clad, as usual, without a great-coat, and his patched shoes had evidently not kept out the snow-water. I offered him the loan of my great-coat, but he declined it, saying that he had a very excellent wrapper of his own, which he had forgotten to put on in the morn- ing. Toward night-fall he came to the printing-room again, on his way home, and stood by the grate to dry his feet and warm himself. He looked even more ill than before, and I renewed the offer of the great coat. "No l" he answered sharply, "I've one of my own, I tell you. "Besides," he added, more pleasantly, " you might want to go out to-night; and I might injure your coat too." "Nonsense 1"I said, "I know you'll take care of it; you never injure any thing that costs money, and as I'm not going out to-night, I shan't want it. You'll be ill if you don't take it; and if you do wear it out a little, that's no matter. As I'm not quite so rich as you, I'm not so close." "Ah!" he muttered, "wilful waste makes woeful want. If I were to be as extravagant as you I'd soon be a beggar. It's very comfortable though," he continued, as he put it on, "and wadded, too. A printer's apprentice with such a coat as this. Dear me I West of England cloth, at that. Why don't you wear shoddy? Your master allows you this, eh? He'll never be rich-never!" And off he went, -grumbling. That night at supper I mentioned page: 34-35[View Page 34-35] the occurrence laughingly to the fa- mily. "Dear me!" exclaimed Mrs. Gutten- berg, "what a mean man he is; and so rich. To be sure, he was poor enough once-a wild spendthrift." "He a spendthrift, mother I That's the last I should expect to hear of him. Why he might stand to a sculptor for a model of Avarice. It seems to have been born with him." "It was in the blood, that's a fact," said the old woman, "but he was a spendthrift at first; and his father threatened to disinherit him. The old man would have done it, too, everybody said; but he died suddenly, and there was no will found, so, as Abner was an only son, he fell heir to about ten thou- sand pounds." "Which he has screwed and scraped, and swelled into a hundred thousand at least," said Mr. Guttenberg. "When his father died he cut loose from his riotous companions, and for forty years he has been a miserable, sordid, grip- ing miser, without a friend in the world." "He is much to be pitied then," I said. "I do not pity him," said Mary. "He is a mean old hunks; and I don't believe you'll get your coat again, Am- brose." "He was wiser in one thing than you, my boy," said Mr. Guttenberg, "for you really will want your coat to- night. He signed the receipt I wrote for the rent, and by mistake I have made it up to the end of the coming quarter. It is very odd that he did not notice the blunder. I wish you would go to his lodgings and have the error corrected at once. Here is the old receipt, and a new one stamped. You can run along fastly, so you wont need any overcoat while you're going; and you can get your own to return in." "Won't the morning do as well?" inquired his wife. "Oh, no I As the old fellow would say himself, 'never put off till to-mor- row what you can do to-day.' Ambrose rather likes the errand, I dare say." "Of course I do," I answered. "I want to see how the old miser lives at home." And without further words I took the receipt and started. I cantered along briskly through the sloppy, half-melted snow, to the house where old Sharp had his den. Like many other of his buildings, it was in a dilapidated condition. I knocked at the door, and after considerable delay it was opened by a half-grown girl, who held a flaring tallow candle over her head with one hand, while she kept the door half closed with the other. "What do you want?" she inquired. "I wish to see Mr. Sharp on parti- cular business," I answered. "I don't know that he'll want to see you. He never does business after dark. Who are you?" My name is Fecit, and I come from Mr. Guttenberg." ' Oh," said the girl, after scrutiniz- ing me closely, "I know you. You can go up to his room, but I don't think you'll get in. He bolts up at dark, and won't speak to any one. It's the topmost room of the house. You can't miss it. You can take this light, and leave it on the stair-head." I took the candle, and made my way up the creaking staircase to the gar- ret. I knocked at the door, but there was no reply made. I tried the knob, and to my surprise the door opened. y I entered. I had never seen a room so meanly furnished containing so many tokens of wealth There was a heavy iron box, a wooden chest of drawers, a ta- ble covered with papers, jewelry and money, and a pallet. The windows were furnished with iron bars, and there were three bolts to the door, and a chain. Around the room in a con- fused litter were articles of vertu, piles of handsomely bound books, beautiful pictures, and an .old suit of armor. Hanging on hooks in the walls were several curious swords and two pairs of pistols, richly mounted. Upon a large silver salver, which lay on the chest of drawers, were a number of pieces of plate, and on the corner of the table lay a diamond-studded snuff- box. As a sort of mockery of the va- luables, there was a wooden platter in the midst of the table, containing a crust of bread and a red herring. The supper had been untouched. I turned toward the pallet. Sharp, still wrapped in my great-coat, lay upon it, breathing heavily. I shook him, but there was no answer. He did not recognize me. I felt his pulse-it' scarcely beat. His head was hot, but his feet were cold as ice. I ran to the door and called down the stairs. Some of the inmates of the rooms put their heads out from their doors, among the rest the girl who had admitted me. "Send some one for the nearest doc- tor," I said, "Mr. Sharp ia quite un- well. And bring me some hot water, somebody. I'd be obliged to any one who'd go for Mr. Guttenberg." They were all for entering the room, but I kept them back. As soon as I had pacified them I threw some old clothes over the money and valuables that were exposed to view, so that when the girl came with the hot water there was nothing in sight of which she could babble to excite the cupidity of her hearers. I removed Sharp's shoes. His feet were icily cold. I propped him half upright in the pallet, and placed his feet in the hot water. I then opened the dormer window, and obtaining some snow from the roof, made a tem. porary bag of my handkerchief, and placing the snow in it, applied it to his head. These simple measures soon had their effect. -The pulse began to beat more quickly and firmly ; the tem- perature of the body became more even, and the breathing grew natural. At length Sharp recognised me. "What are you doing here?" he ask- ed, endeavoring to rise. He was too weak, however, and fell back again. "You can let him lie down now," I said to the girl who was aiding me. "Go down stairs, and when the doctor and Mr. Guttenberg come, show them up at once." The girl left the room. Sharp looked at me in wonder. "What do you mean?" he asked. "I don't want a doctor. He'll ruin me." "Pray be quiet," I said. "You are very ill, and must have a doctor. He'll be here presently." "I won't pay him. I didn't send for him-mind that." "Very well; we won't quarrel on that score. A doctor is necessary, and if you won't pay for him I will." "You can't; you havn't the money; you're only a prentice boy. What's your business here, anyhow? Do you think you'll get any money from me?" I was thoroughly provoked, but I page: 36-37[View Page 36-37] kept my temper, as there was no use of quarreling with such a madman- So I told him my errand there. It seemed to calm him at first, but at the next moment he glanced uneasily at the table. "All right," I said, in answer to his look. "I threw those clothes on the table and chest, that the girl's prying eyes might not fall on the money and plate you had left exposed." "It was thoughtful," he said, after a moment's pause. "I must trust some one-why not you? Take those keys from under my pillow ; there, pick only the second-sized one from the bunch; open the chest, and put the money and jewelry away." I obeyed him, locked the chest, and returned the key. I had scarcely done this when the doctor entered, closely followed by Mr. Guttenberg. The doc- tor wasn't a physician; he was not a regular M. D., but what in Ptttenham is called an apothecary. In London he would have styled himself a gene- ral practitioner. He was of some emi- nence in his profession, and bore the reputation of being a very worthy man. "I didn't send for you," said Sharp, when he saw him. "Remember, if you prescribe I won't pay you. I call Mr. Guttenberg to witness." Mr. Gray, the doctor, smiled, and asked me the history of the case. I told him how I had found the old man, and what I had done. "You couldn't have done better if you had been the whole Royal College of Surgeons," said Mr. Gray. "You have probably saved his life. Without your prompt action, the congestion of the brain might have been fatal." Do you think he saved my life?" inquired Sharp, leaning on his elbow,. and peering in the doctor's face. "I think it very probable." "Well, well i" exclaimed the miser, "I suppose I ought to be much obliged to him. But he isn't a regular prac- titioner; he can't make me pay." The air of the old man as he said this was so absurdly earnest, that we all burst into a simultaneous peal of laughter. Sharp looked annoyed, but the next instant his features relaxed into a faint smile. "I am well enough now, at all events," said he, " and 1 don't want any one here now." The doctor told him that he was not well enough at all, and that it was ne- cessary some one should remain with him during the night, to carry out the directions left. "-I won't have any one here," per- sisted Sharp. "But you must," reiterated the doc- tor. "If Ambrose will stay, he may; but I'll have no one else," returned the mi- ser. I looked at Mr. Guttenberg inqui- ringly. He nodded his head. "Very well," I said, " 'll stay." Mr. Gray told me what medicines he should send, how to administer them, and what to do in case certain unfavorable symptoms came on. Then off he went, and Mr. Guttenberg with him. Previous to the departure of the latter, he handed me a letter. "This came," said he, " during the afternoon. I forgot to hand it you at supper. We'll keep your breakfast ready for you in the morning." I was left alone with my strange charge. I turned towards him. He was fast asleep. I found a couple of tallow candles in a tin box, and laid them in readiness by the candlestick; put some of the books that were scat- tered about on the table to read during the night; took the medicine from the doctor's boy, who had now come, awa- kened my patient and gave him the powder according to directions, and then sat down to read my letter. It was from Paul Baghy, and read as follows: "My dear Ambrose:-Read this letter as carefully as you like, and then--burn it. "Zara is in my charge-where you will learn some day by word of mouth. I dare not, for her sake, write it, lest some accident should befall this letter. "Espinel, who is a Spanish nobleman, and her uncle, has disappeared. He has been either killed or abducted; which I cannot say. "Keep all this secret. What I desire you to do for me, and for Zara's sake, is to ascer- tain, without provoking remark, if Mr. Os- borne left the castle recently. If so, when, how long he was absent, and whether he has now returned. "The blow at Zara comes from that quar- ter. I would like to tell you all; but this is not the proper place nor time. I shall see you shortly if I can leave London. "Make some excuse for examining the re- cords of the parish-church of St. Stephen. See the marriage-register, and get me the exact date of the marriage of the present Earl of Landys with Miss Ansleigh. I wish to see if it corresponds with the statement in Burke's peerage." I read the letter twice, and tearing it in strips, consumed them one by one in the flame of the candle. CHAPTER VII., Which contains singular revelations, and tells of the growth of an odd friendship. I was musing over the contents of the letter, when I heard Sharp speak. I went to the pallet. The old man's e-es were staring wildly, their whites injected with blood, and his face deep- ly flushed. The fever, as the doctor had warned me, had evidently come on. It' was with some difficulty I could get him, to swallow the draught sent for such an exigency. He lay there, restlessly tossing about, while I paced up and down the room, striving to keep myself warm. ;There was a grate, indeed, at the chimney- place, but it was quite empty, and it was too late in the night to order coals. All I could do to defend myself against the cold was to keep myself in motion. The rustling noise of Sharp's move- ments stopped. I turned to look at him. He was sitting erect on the bed, his eyes dilated and almost starting from their sockets with terror. "Ah "- he cried, in a tone of 'horror that made my very flesh creep, " there he is, cold and stiff; and he is my fa- ther I ave I murdered him? Take him away! Take him away!" Was this, then, the terrible secret of the old man's life, or was it the crea- tion of the fever? "There I there!" he said, "they are coming-for me I There is the gallowsl and the rope--how it dangles and swings I The hangman-I see him! and;,the crowd how they yell and -howl Oh, God I how'they yell!" This, then, I thought, was the cause of those watchful glances which he cast. over his shoulder from time to time as he walked-this was the spectre that haunted him. I hoisted the window again, obtain- ed some snow, and applied it to his head. "Heavens!"I said, as I was thus engaged, "is this miserable old man a parricide?" He caught at the word. page: 38-39[View Page 38-39] "Parricide!" he exclaimed. "No, my lord, and you, gentlemen of the jury, I did not mean to murder him. No; mean and cold and cruel as he was to me, he was still my father. Mur- der!-me! Why I would not harm a worm. I meant to rob; yes, I meant to help myself from his hoard ; for she-she was starving-dying of want-and he spurned me from him- he would not give me a farthing to save her-her my poor Margaret! Yes I I was a spendthrift-a reckless young man; but I was a husband I I thought to make him sleep the sounder that I might get the keys. He slept, and he never awoke again. Ah the money came too late I too late I my poor Margaret was dead 1" I still applied the snow, and he calm- ed under it, but his fancies were busy with him. "Yes! I know-he died of disease of the heart-they said his death was sudden; but did not the laudanum has- ten it? He comes at night," he mur- mured, " at night, when all is still, and sits and looks at me with his cold eyes and pale face; he tells me that I have his money; but I have no Margaret- and then he goes to only come back again-again-again. You are thbre now, and your touch is cold as ice." "It is I, Ambrose Fecit," I said. "Don't you know me?" "But I wonder what is in the pack- et," he continued. "Shall I open it? I think not." I renewed the snow application to his head. "My poor Margaret!" he said. "She is dead, and I have nothing to love now but gold-gold-gold I I am rich -they do not know how rich I am; but I atone; yes, I atone. Men hate and despise me for a miser. They'll never know me better; but the grave will cover me, and then the worms will find it out-ha I ha I the worms will find it out!" It was a trying position for one of my age to fill-alone in a cold and cheerless room, in the dead hours of the night, listening to the ravings of a remorseful man, whose sensitive con- science, excited by disease, exaggera- ted his crime, and unmasked his soul to a stranger. What he meant by say-. ing that he atoned, I could not even conceive. His sordid life, his denial of pity and kindness to others, and even to himself, was a worse crime than the robbery of his father. The one was prompted by the suffering of his wife; the other had no palliation. But with these and other thoughts within me, I still sat there applying the cooling snow to his head, and administering his hourly draught. Two or three hours more of raving and delirium passed, and then he sank into an un- easy slumber. I gathered what spare clothes I could find around, and muf- fling myself in these to secure a portion of warmth, I took up one of the books on the table, and sat down to read. With the exception of once, when he awakened, and took the draught ready for him, I remained thus until long af- ter the grey streaks of dawn had sto- len through the dusty window-panes. He did not wake until after nine o'clock. He was evidently much bet- ter; his skin was moist and his mind clear, though his body was weak. He looked at me curiously. "I have been very sick, have I not?" he inquired at length. "Yes," I answered, "you have had a high fever during the greater part of the night, talking all sorts of nonsense, and seeing all kinds of dead people." He looked a little alarmed. "What did I say?" "Oh, you saw your father, and told me all about him." I fixed my eyes on him closely and curiously as I said this. He did not seem so discomposed as I expected. "Tell me what I said." I repeated it nearly word for word. "Well," he said, when I had done, "do you think me a murderer, or was it the fever?" "I am willing to put down two- thirds, at least to the fever." He raised himself up. "Is it possible," said he, "that you've been sitting there without fire all night, and your great coat on me? Why didn't you get it?" "I couldn't well disturb you for such a purpose. I got along very well." "Help me off with it now. There, there; You ought to whisk it well. It is full of lint. The brush never injures clothing so much as dust. Remember that. You should never have suffered me to lie in your coat. It injures a coat very much. You'll never be rich, if you're so extravagant." "Why, you miserable old man "I exclaimed, provoked at his folly, "do you suppose great coats were not made to be of service? I wouldn't have your feelings for ten times your mo- ney." "And the doctor said you saved my life; I remember that. And yet you despise me." "You despise yourself. As for me I only despise your parsimony. Do you-think people can respect any man who walks through life alone, doing no good to kin or kind?" "I have no kin, and men are not of my kind." "God forbid they were," I said to myself. He seemed to read my thoughts by his remark. "Shall I tell you my secret, then?" "As you choose about that. I covet no more confidence than you have al- ready given me without intending it." "I will tell you. I have watched you before this. You have prudence and discretion beyond your years ; and I would sooner trust you than graver and older men. Your feelings are fresh yet-you will understand me." The old man evidently could not re- press the desire to pour out his whole history, and I sat there and listened. Parsimony ran in the blood. His father, Jacob Sharp, had acquired a fortune of twenty thousand pounds, by saving and pinching. Abner was brought up to his father's trade, that of a silver-smith, and became an expert workman; but the family taste for hoarding did not at first betray itself in him. On the contrary, his vice ran the other way. Young Abner spent as fast, and faster than lie earned, to the great disgust of the father ; and to add to the chagrin and anger of the latter, the son fell in love and married a poor orphan girl. The elder Sharp grew furious at this last act of folly, turned his son out ot doors, and swore he ne- ver would see his daughter-in-law. Abner grew more prudent in money matters, but an accident to his right hand threw him out of work, his sur- plus means were soon exhausted, and. he and his wife were reduced to want.. She, indeed, obtained a pittance by sewing, but fell sick, more through hunger than disease, and languished. page: 40-41[View Page 40-41] Abner made up his mind to rob his fa- ther of a sufficient sum to pay the pas- sage of himself and wife to America, where he believed he could get employ- ment. Now, old Sharp, in spite of his avarice, indulged in one luxury, name- ly, a night-cap of old ale before he went to bed. Into this night draught Ab- ner managed to pour some laudanum, a dose of which he had in the house. It was not an overdose by any means, but it set the miser soundly asleep. The son obtained the keys, helped him- self to sufficient money from a spot ,where he knew it would not be missed for awhile, and left the house. The next morning, while he was preparing to leave for Liverpool, word was brought him that his father had been found dead in his chair. The coroner's jury, on the evidence of the surgeons who made a post-mortem examination of the body, rendered a verdict of "Death from disease of the heart ;" but Abner was filled with the belief that the dose of laudanum had hasten- ed his father's death. Hence the re- morseful feelings which embittered his life. He succeeded to the father's pro- perty as heir-at-law, but all the money came too late for his wife, who died the day after his father. From that time the family propensity broke out on him fiercely; he gave himself up totally to the accumulation of money, and for forty years had devoted his energy, backed by unmitigated parsi- mony, to gain. "Young man," said he, when he had closed his story, "I owe you my life. I am not ungrateful. I will show you more of myself than the world knows. You shall not entirely despise me. Hi- therto I have had no particular care for one human being beyond another, and no one has cared for me; but I cal confide in you.. I like you. If you will promise not to reveal it, I will ac- quaint you with a secret." "As you choose. I do not covet your confidence, as I told you before but if your secret be one I can honor ably keep, I'll hear it." He arose, and I assisted him to ar. range his dress. He went to the iron chest where I had placed his money and jewelry, and took out a book. "No one but myself," said he, "has ever looked at these entries. The book will be destroyed when I feel death approaching. Before you examine it, let me tell you something. You re- member that James Meadows, the car- penter, was burned out last spring?" "Yes." "His tools, his household furniture, the clothing of the family, everything he had was destroyed. He and his family barely escaped with their lives. They were in great distress. Every one pitied them, and the pity took the substantial shape of one pound, four- teen shillings and nine pence." "You are mistaken," I said, "fifty pounds were sent by an unknown hand from London. On this Meadows com- menced his work again, and is doing well. There was one good Samari- tan." "No; it was merely the payment due from discriminating wealth to honest industry crippled by misfortune. Mea- dows was an honest and industrious man, and the fire came through no carelessness of his. He was my ten- ant, and I lost a house by it-a loss only partly made up by the insurance. The money came from me through my London bankers." "From you!" "Yes, from me. I sent it with a written charge to Meadows that he should repay the unknown lender, by sending anonymously, from time to time, as he could afford it, small sums of money to poor and honest persons in distress. I hope and believe that he will be honest enough to pay the debt in that way." I was much astonished at the state- ment, but more so when I glanced over the book which he placed in my hand. It was a record extending over many years, of sums secretly sent to needy persons, running from hundreds of pounds down to a few shillings, and amounted in the aggregate to a heavy sum. How the world misjudged this man I But it was not the world's fault. I handed him back the book. "You have promised to keep my se- cret," said he. "I spend nothing on myself; but I have on others for many years, wherever I think it deserved. It is my only relief from the terrible remorse that weighs me down. But it makes no diminution to my income. Everything I touch prospers. Even that ridiculous Museum, which ruined its former owner, yields me a hand- some profit. By the by, you must visit that. Your name will be left with the doorkeeper. You will find a deal to interest you there. Come when you like-but not if it wastes your time. Time is money-remember that." The doctor came, pronounced the pa- tient all-right, and so I went og to my breakfast, leaving Sharp, for all I knew, to luxuriate on the red herring left from the night before.. From this date began my intimacy with old Sharp. Every one was amused and amazed when they heard of it, attributing it to the fact of my nursing him all night through his ill- ness. People thought that the "old wretch," as they called him, had one redeeming trait in his character. Cap- tain Berkeley told me, before a crowd of the officers, that I had bound myself apprentice to Sharp to learn the art of making money; and Tom Brown called us "Sharp & Co;"But all that wore off, and people found other topics for discussion. I used occasionally to drop in at the Museum, and some- times I would meet the old man there. Then he came to the printing-room more frequently. One way or other I saw a good deal of him. He never lost an opportunity to im- press on me lessons of economy, or modes of making money, all of which I listened to without reply.- One piece of advice I took, however. I was looking at the collection of minerals in the Museum, during a half hour's lei- sure at noon, when he came in. "Do you understand mineralogy or geology?" he asked. "No I I scarcely know one mineral from another." "Learn both those sciences. The knowledge might be profitable some- time. Even a smattering is better than nothing. I picked up some knowledge of the kind when I was working at my trade, and that enabled me to tell gozzin when I saw it, and so I was led to buy the Bury property. I afterwards sold the mining right for twenty-five thousand pounds." I never expected to find a copper. mine, but I had a thirst for knowledge of all sorts; and, aided by elementary works, with the collection at the muse- um ,and the geological features of the page: 42-43[View Page 42-43] surrouning country, I soon managed to make myself very well versed in mineralogy and the structure of the earth. I may as well mention here that I sent ]Baghy the information that he required. The date of the marriage had, however, been written over an erasure, and so I wrote to him. CHAPTER VIII., Which tells of the Entertainments at the Castle, and of a Finale not Rehearsed. It was within a few weeks of the term of twenty-one years from the time I was first placed in the hands of John Guttenberg, when the events occurred which I am about to relate. There were always a large number of visitors at Landys Castle during the Christmas holidays, when the family was there; but this year there were even more than ever before,for the Coun- tess, an invalid, was in much better health than usual, and sometimes drove out to take an airing accompa- nied by her little boy. I had frequent- ly seen her at the Castle, a pale, thin young lady, who had been a blonde beauty, but who was wrecked by ill- health. Her ladyship had recently so far recovered her strength as to occa- sion great rejoicing among her friends; and the Earl, who appeared to be a fond husband, did his best to minister to her amusement. Among other mat- ters devised to add to the pleasure of the season, it was proposed to get up an amateur dramatic performance, and the manager of a circuit of provincial theatres not far from London was sent for to supervise the affair. It was found, however, even after obtaining the aid of the army officers in town that there was not available material for ,casting a tragedy-a fortunate thing for the tragedy and the audience -so they settled upon the old comedy of "The Poor Gentleman," which they fell to rehearsing with great earnest- ness. The little programmes of the play were printed at our establish- ment, and I noted that Captain Berke- ley, a very clever amateur as I knew, was set down for the part of Frederick Bramble; the Honorable Mr. Wickham, and M. P. for the county, as Doctor Ollapod, and the Honorable Mrs. Leigh for Emily Worthington. The Emily of the occasion was a young, rich, and fashionable widow, very popular in the town, on account of her beauty and affability, and the dextrous manner in which she drove her own phaeton through the streets on her visits. I knew, as 1 said, that Berkeley was clever, but I marvelled at his choice, Dr. Ollapod being his specialty, as Frederick had been mine, but I saw that it was done to oblige his noble host. I, of course, never expected to witness, much less to partake in these performances; for I would not stand among lackeys, and though the proud Earl of Landys might allow a printer's boy the use of his library, to receive him as a guest was another matter. And yet I did participate, neverthe- less. The day before the evening set for the performance,Captain Berkeley came to the printing-room in company with a stranger whom he introduced as Mr. Haresfoot, the manager. This new acquaintance was a man about forty years old, tall and inclin- ing to stoutness, with a rubicund' face, a slightly pompous manner, and a shuffling walk, as though he were mov- ing about in Turkish slippers. He had a ridiculous habit of emphasizing or rather punctuating his sentences, by closing and opening first one eye and then the other, like a sportsman taking aim at his game from either shoulder alternately-a curious feat, which I tried afterwards to imitate by way of amusement, but found it to be to me physically impossible. Mr. Hincks was absent and I was managing the Chronicle in his stead- having been sub-editor for some time. I was knee-deep in a pile of newspapers, from which I had been clipping and arranging paragraphs; but 1 gave my visitors seats when they entered, and waited to hear what they had to say, for their manner spoke of business. Captain Berkeley introduced his com- panion. "Happy to make your acquaintance, sir," said Haresfoot, winking his left eye. "I have come down here to act as director to the amateur entertain- ment at the castle, at Captain Berke- ly's request"-here the right eye was put through its exercise-" but we find ourselves at the last moment in some trouble, from which I am told you can extricate us." And then both eyes opened and shut alternately. I looked my astonishment. "You must know, then, Ambrose," said the Captain, " we cast the 'Poor Gentleman' very nicely indeed, and 'were getting along famously, when Wickham receives news of his uncle's alarming illness in Yorkshire-" "The said uncle personating twenty thousand a year," interrupted Hares- foot, "and valuable props." "And off he posts," continued Ber- keley. "I am up in Ollapod"- "And down on it," again interrupted the manager. 'Oh, be quiet, will you i We have nobody to play Frederic, and reading a part is a bore. You have played it for us more cleverly than I should. I mentioned that to the Earl and ladies, and told them I thought you might be induced to do it, under the circum- stances. So Haresfoot and myself were commissioned to say they would feel obliged if you would oblige them." "Captain," said Haresfoot, "that was very well done. If you sell out and want employment come to me. You shall announce all the new plays, and make apologies to the audience when my leading man has set too late to dinner, and my leading woman has a fit of the sulks." "Oh, bother!" cried the Captain. "What do you say?" "Well," I replied, "I'd be very happy to do so; but why couldn't Mr. Hares- foot fill the gap?" "Oh," said the manager, winking his left eye, "that would never do." Snap went the right eye. "I should only mar the-well, the unity of the performance." Berkeley laughed. "That, translated into plain En- lish," said he, " means that he thinks we are a set of muffs. Won't we show him? But what do you say, my fine fellah?" ".My time is not at my own dispo- sal quite. You must ask Mr. Gutten- berg." "Oh, if that's all, we'll expect you at rehearsal at twelve o'clock to-mor- row-twelve o'clock, sharp I Not your friend of the money-bags, though." The chuckle that broke from Hares- foot at this miserable attempt at pleas- antry by -Berkeley, showed' that the lat- ter had been talking to the former about me, and served to embarass me page: 44-45[View Page 44-45] a little. After some little conversa- tion on indifferent subjects, they bid me good-day, and with a nod to Tom Brown, now our foreman, who had just come in with some proof-slips, left the room. Tom had an enquiring look on his face, so I told-him their errand. "Now there's luck P" cried he envi- ously. "Here you, a prentice, get an invitation to the castle among the nobs; and I'm a journeyman, and a ten times better actor than you, and get none." And Tom went out again feeling perfectly aggrieved at my good-fortune. For my part I heartily wished he could take my place. I felt myself to be in no pleasant position. Not being among my equals in rank, I expected to be unnoticed except when wanted on the stage ; and not being a profes- sional actor I should not even have the privilege of sneering at the bad acting. Of course, Mr. Guttenberg was only "too happy to oblige his lordship," and thought "you ought to be keenly sensi- ble of the honor, Ambrose," though Ambrose was not. But when did a true, manly and independent British tradesman not feel delighted at a ser- vice demanded by a peer of the realm? That evening I saw Sharp, and men- tioned to him my proposed participa- tion in the performance at the castle. "Umph!" he growled. "Don't let them look down on you then. They're no better than you, blood or no blood. You owe no man anything, while they're in debt, every one of them." "'ot the Earl?" 'Yes; he too. That Mr. Wickham owes me nearly ten thousand pounds, spent in his last election. It's well se- cured, though-well secured, or he wouldn't have had a ha'p'ny from me. If his uncle dies there's a nice windfall. Your Sir Robert Bramble- Mr. Willoughby, Lord Willoughby, D'Erncliffe's brother, is in my debt a pretty penny. In fact, I've had deal- ings with every one, ladies and all, who are to play with you, except the Honorable Mrs. Leigh and Captain Berkeley." "Captain Berkeley is very prudent about money-matters," I said. "No, he isn't. He's a wasteful dog -buying all sorts of nick-nacks just because the expense don't go beyond his income. 'Many a mickle makes a muckle,' as the Scotch say, and he'll want his money some day. But you've no furred coat-you want a furred coat in order to play Frederick." "Oh, I can trim an ordinary surtout with a little plush. That will answer very well." "No, it won't. Those fellows shan't sneer at you. I have a furred robe that has lain in tobacco these three years. It is trimmed with the finest sable-none of your catskin humbugs, and belonged to a gay, young attache of the Russian embassy. Mary Gut- tenberg can take the fur off carefully, and sew it on the edges of your coat." "I'm very much obliged to you, I'm sure." "Yes; you ought to be-the fur might get injured. But I'm getting extravagant-like a fool. I shouldn't wonder if I came to want yet. To- day I was silly enough to waste my money. Yes; there was a little brat spilt some milk from her pitcher-spilt it all, in fact. She was crying. I took hold of her pitcher to look at it. As there was nobody looking I slipped a sixpence in her pitcher, gave it back to her, and went away. I watched her from round the corner. She found the money presently, and-well it was right funny, I declare, to see her tears dry up, and a grin get on her dirty face, and then see the puzzled look that followed. I was a fool." "I think not. The enjoyment was certainly worth the sixpence." "Yes; but don't you see," returned Sharp, argumentatively, "she only lost a pen'orth of milk. Now, if I'd put in a penny she'd have been just as de- lighted, and I threw away five pence. Five pence at compound interest for fifty years-" "Mr. Sharp," I interrupted, "you'll allow me to say that it isn't Abner Sharp whom I know, that is talking 'now, but the Abner Sharp the public know; and I prefer my own acquain- tance to the public's a good deal." "You're an impudent boy," retorted Sharp. "But let me get you the coat." I pass over the details of the re- hearsal. They were spiritless, of course, as all such things are, whether amateur or professional. Mr. Hares- foot was nearly driven frantic by people persisting in coming on at the wrong cues, and going off by the wrong exits. The ladies were even more provokingly stupid than the gentle- men, and every few minutes the voice of Mr. Haresfopt, saying-"That is not the entrance, my dear!" interrupted the business. "Pray, Mr. Fecit," asked our Emily Worthington, "what does the man mean by 'dearing' me so absurdly?" I explained to her that it was a technical term applied by all -stage- managers to all females, old or young, during rehearsal, and that Mr. Hares- 4\- foot was merely following a profes- sional habit without reference to the different position of the parties ad- dressed. "You will observe, madam," I said, " that the more he is vexed the stronger grows the emphasis on the term. If he should murmur 'my dear," very tenderly, he is extremely put out; and when he brings it out with unc- tion, 'my d-e-a-r 1' he is in a terrible passion." Mrs. Leigh laughed heartily. "He is a very singular person," she. said. "What a ridiculous habit the man has of winking both his eyes." "That, madam," I observed, is the the language of Nod, and means- ' Good characters are to be murdered to-night.'" "Pray, answer for yourself, sir," she cried, gaily. "I intend to play with spirit; that is, if I have a Frederick who will make love to me properly- on the stage--as he is in duty bound to do." -At length it was all over, and I was about to go, when a footman informed me that the ladies wished to speak with me in the drawing-room. I fol- lowed him and he ushered me into the presence of the Countess of Landys, Mrs. Leigh and several others. "Mr. Fecit," said Mrs. Leigh, "we have arranged some tableaux, to be shown after the play. We are desir- ous of adding another-Conrad and Medora. You have such a charming piratical look about you" (here she laughed gaily and I bowed ironically) "that I have ventured to request you to be my Conrad for the occasion." "With great pleasure, madam. But, I am at a loss, on so short a notice, for the costume." "We have discussed all that, sir," page: 46-47[View Page 46-47] said Lady Landys. "Gifford, the dowager's maid, to whom we mention- ed it, tells us that there are a number of dresses in the lumber-room, and among them one that will answer. I have directed her to have it properly aired, and sent to the dressing-room for you this evening." I thanked her ladyship and bowed myself out. At night we assembled in one of the drawing-rooms, used as a tempora- ry green-room, awaiting the call, and I slipped out for a moment to get a view of the theatre that had been im- provised for the occasion. The stage had been arranged at one extremity of the great hall, and the part reserved for the spectators had been fitted up with seats very neatly. The scenery and appointments, which had been pre- pared under Haresfoot's supervision, were very complete. Peeping through a hole in the curtain (however new it may be every theatrical curtain has a peep-hole) I saw the audience gradu- ally gather in, and presently they were all seated. On the extreme right sat the dowager Countess, attended by Gifford; and in the centre were the Earl and Countess of Landys, attended by their intimate friends. In the back- ground stood the servants. Mr. Os- borne, whose position was intermedi- ate between servitude and equality, stood a little apart leaning against the wall. I took in this survey, and then returned to the green-room. Mrs. Leigh chatted with me while I was waiting for the call, and when she was not on the stage herself. I readily saw through her purpose. She had noted that I felt isolated, and in the kindness of her heart endeavored to set me at ease. I knew that my histo- ry had been told to the guests, and that I was the subject of observation and curiosity, perhaps pity-a still more galling position for me to take. These reflections caused me a deal of embarrassment at first, and when I made my appearance in the third act, I did little to justify the panegyric on my histrionic ability which Berkeley, as I learned by Mrs. Leigh, had given to the party. This did not last long. The excitement of the scene soon roused me up, and I dashed out vigor- ously. The part itself is not much; but as Humphrey and Sir Robert were but poorly represented, and as Emily supported me well, the part stood out strongly in relief. The audience be- gan to warm, Ollapod was very quaint and funny, and the curtain fell on the final scene amid the applause of the noble and aristocratic spectators. Everybody complimented me-even Haresfoot condescended to say that it was a very clever performance (sinis- ter eye winking) for an amateur, (dex- ter eye snapping); and if I ever chose to go on the stage he would find a vacancy in his company for Ire; the whole of which was emphasized by at least three double winks fired off with the utmost rapidity. The stage was now cleared for the tableaux, and I went into the dressing- room to prepare for my share of the clos- ing scene. I found a bundle there with a note sent by Sharp, the latter stating that having heard that I was to appear as Conrad in the closing tableau, he had sent me something I might need. I examined the bundle and found it to contain a Turkish yataghan and pis- tols and a dagger, which I recog- nized as similar to the Malay krees found in the old house, but longer, and with the guard at one side, extremely wide. The dress laid out for me was not Turkish, however, nor could I tell of what nation. It consisted of a red cap, shaped like a brimless hat, a long full embroidered robe, red trousers trimmed like the cap, and a black, gilt-edged belt. The hat, jacket and trousers were very well, but I could not arrange the robe to my satisfac- tion. At length I girt it around me with the belt, and let it fall to my feet. When I had done so, I looked into the mirror to try the effect, and started in surprise. I was made up to look exactly like the portrait of the pirate in the gallery, and the resemblance was certainly striking. This was a trick of Gifford, but I had no time to- conjecture her object, for the call-boy run his head in the door and called out: "Mr. Fecit for the last tableau!" and I ran down stairs to take my place in the final scene. Mrs. Leigh looked at me and said: "That is a very becoming dress, cer- tainly, Mr. Fecit; but it doesn't be- long to Conrad." I agreed with her, but what was I to do? The bell tinkled and the curtain rose. Mrs. Leigh was seated at my feet, lute in hand, and my head was turned nearly full front to the audience. As the curtain went up I could see the Earl rise slowly, as though in perfect amazement. The elder Countess leaned forward with an expression of wonder and dismay overspreading her countenance. The next moment she raised herself from her seat, and with the words, shrieked rather than spok- en: "He is alive I Bugunda Jawa l" fell back in violent hysterics. All was confusion in an instant, the tableau became alive at once; and the guests were gathered in groups, won- dering at the circumstance, as they bore the dowager Countess to her apartment. I knew nothing of that until afterwards, for when the curtain had suddenly fallen I hastened up stairs, resumed my Frederick dress, which I had worn to the castle, and taking the bundle containing the arms, came down to leave. As I reached the stair-foot I met Mr. Osborne. "Youngster," said he, "what did you mean by putting on that dress? Answer me that." "Mean!"I retorted, "What should I mean, Mr. Osborne? It was the dress left out for me and I put it on. What do you mean, sir, by addressing me in that tone?" "Where did you get it?" "Her ladyship had it sent to me; Lady Landys." "How did she know of it?" "Gifford pointed it out, I believe." He left me suddenly, coupling Gif- ford's name with an expression too profane to print. CHAPTER IX., Which describes a bold Stroke of the Peer and his Steward. When Mr. Guttenberg learned of the occurrences at the castle he was alarmed lest the Earl might be vexed, and withdraw his favors and patron- age from our circulating library and printing-rooms. This would have been a serious blow, for although directly these were not much, yet as his lord- ship, by virtue of his title and proper- ty set the fashion in those parts, indi- rectly they were a great deal. "It's a very sad affair, Ambrose,? page: 48-49[View Page 48-49] said he, " very stupid on your part to get yourself up in that way. I am astonished at you." "But it was not my fault, sir. How could I help it? The dress was pre- scribed for me, and I took it. It is no great matter for complaint that an old lady should take a whim into her head and go off in hysterics. And it's no great matter, sir, I should think, to the Earl, who must be used to her ec- centricities." "Yes, it is. His lordship don't like to have an occurrence which will set every one to talking. And then you mustn't call her an 'old lady.' It isn't proper." "Isn't she an old lady, sir?" "An old lady Good gracious! Why her husband was a peer of the realm!" "It was not my fault, I am sure, sir. I did not invite myself to the castle." "Now, hush I I am ashamed of you. It was an act of condescension to ask you. You ought to feel it deep- ly, and your remark sounds like in- gratitude." And very ungrateful the bookseller thought me. However all my adopt- ed father's fears were dissipated on the following day by a visit from Mr. Os- borne, who came to thank me for hav- ing assisted at the play, and to say that I was expected to visit the libra- ry while the guests were in the house, as usual. He said the dowager had recovered from the events of the night before; her momentary insane fit had passed apparently away; and added that the ladies thought me a veryin- teresting young man, with manners above my station." I chafed under this. This man who talked about "my station," was only one remove above a lackey, and I felt con- vinced that his language was his own. I preserved a contemptuous silence until he had gone, and then I broke into a torrent of wrath, innocent of ef- fect, as there was no one to listen but Mr. Guttenberg, and he thought me mad. It had one good effect, howev- er, it relieved me of my suppressed vexation, and next moment I smiled at the consternation of the printer and my own folly. Berkeley came into the printing. room during the afternoon. "Ambrose," saidhe, "your'e a doosid lucky fellah you've made a sensa- tion. The whole town is talking about you. You're the observed of all ob- servers. The ladies declare there nev- er was such a printer since types were invented. The Honorable Mrs. Leigh raves about you and declares you are a young eastern rajah in disguise." "It's all very annoying," I said, picking away at the letter, for I was at work at the case. Tom Brown and the two apprentices (for we had two new ones) laughed. "I'd like to have been in his place," said Tom. "Would you?" "Wouldn't I?" "Sensible fellah, Thomas, you i" an- swered the Captain. "Annoyed, eh! If 1 could have made half the impres- sion I'd have been content to have' put types in that what-d'ye-call-it-there for the remainder of my existence. You're famous, I tell you. Your friend Sharp would do a good business to exhibit you at the Museum along with the nick- nackeries. By the by, where did you get that magnificent sabre you wore in the tableau?" "Mr. Sharp was kind enough to send the arms for me," I replied, "when he found I was to stand in the tableau." Berkeley whistled. "And that magnificent fur on your surtout-was that from Sharp too?" "It was." "Worse and worse; or, rather, bet- ter and better. Stranger than the Sphynx, by Jove I Old SWarp was never known to do a kind tling to any one before. I am quite sure he would never have loaned that sword to me without twice its value left as collat- eral security. Your power over him is very odd. Do you know they say when he gets in company with you, he is absolutely genial I What is your secret? Are you Dr. Faustus come back, and in league with the old gen- tleman below?" The Captain ran on for some time in that way until he remembered an en- gagement to dine, and left with the quizzical caution not to run off with the Honorable Mrs. Leigh, as he had designs matrimonially on that lady himself, a id should certainly kill and eat his successful rival. To satisfy Mr. Guttenberg, I resumed mny visits to the library. The visitors to my Lord Landys were not of studi- ous habits, and I seldom met any of them amid the books. When I did it was because they dawdled in there for a partial refuge from ennui; and then in a little while dawdled out. On Monday after the performance I was at the castle. I had not been seated a minute after hanging up my overcoat, before Gifford came in. "I have been watching for you," said she. "Pray come to my lady." I followed her, and she ushered me into the presence of the Countess dow- ager. The old lady half rose as I entered, and pointed to a chair. I seated my- self. "Gifford," she said, "see that no one disturbs us." The waiting-woman retired. "Now, young gentleman," said the Countess, "I have heard something of your history, but notfully. Will you do me the favor to recite it so far as you can." I told her all I knew or had heard- at least the essential parts of it. She listened attentively, and when I had concluded, came towards me, scanned my features carefully, laid her hand on my ear, and then resumed her seat, much agitated. "It is very singular," she muttered, "and it cannot be. Yet that peculiar mark. Does Mr. Marston know your history?" "Mr. Marston?" "Oh, I see. You call him the Earl of Landys. I had forgotten. But the true earl will return-yes, he will re- turn. He is not dead or his spirit would have come to tell me. But what did I ask you? I forget; for my brain wanders sadly of late." "If the present Earl knew my his- tory. He knows as much as I have told you," I replied. Have a care then. He suspects you, and will do you a mischief. And be- ware of Osborne. I may send for you again. Will you come?" "Should I receive your ladyship's message, I will strive to obey it," I answered, as I bowed myself out. I returned to the library and had not been there long before the Earl page: 50-51[View Page 50-51] came in. He smiled as he returned my bow. "We had quite a scene the other night, Mr. Fecit." "Yes, my lord." "The Dowager Countess's infirmity gives her strange fancies. Your per- fornance of Frederick was very spirited." I bowed my acknowledgments. "Be seated. Have you thought on what I suggested once concerning In- dia?" This was the third time during the year that he had asked me a similar question, and it was to be the third time I was to make him a similar answer. "I am sincerely obliged to your lordship for the kind offer, but for the present I have determined to remain here, and find employment at the busi- ness which I have been taught." How we sin through courtesy and the rule of the world! I was by habit and principle opposed to falsehood; and yet I here caught myself lying outrageously. I was not sincerely obliged to his lordship at all; on the contrary I was angry at the persistent offer. Nor did I think it kind, for I believed it to be prompted by some sinister motive, the nature of which I could scarcely conjecture. His lordship took snuff and laid the box on the table. "Don't let me interrupt your studies," said he, and took up a book. I resumed mine, not to study but to think. On looking up a few minutes after I found the Earl had gone. His gold snuff-box lay on the table. I thought it a piece of forgetfulness, but went on with my reading, and just then seeing a passage which I wished to note, opened a box lying near me to get a sheet of paper. The lid of the box was lined with looking-glass, and it remained up and slightly back from the perpendicular. While I was writ- ing before it Mr. Osborne came in. He bade me a good day, and went to the book-case, selecting and rejecting books. I read on, and on turning a page my eye rose from the top of the book, and fell on the lo4king-glass in the lid of the paper box. It chanced to be that angle which brought the right side of the room before me. My very flesh crawled. What infamous work was this! I distinctly saw Mr. Osborne with the gold snuff-box in his hand, with his eye fixed upon me, advance to where my great-coat hung, and, after slipping the snuff-box in the breast- pocket, gather up a couple of books from the table and make a noiseless de- parture. I arose in alarm and excitement, but my course of action was decided on at once. I removed the box, and placing it on a small table in the farthest cor- ner of the room, threw a newspaper carelessly over it. I sat there for a little while, but no one came. The warning of the old Countess recurred to me. What could it all mean? At length the anxiety became insupportable. I rose and put on my great coat in order to go out. I trembled with excitement, and was steadying myself for a moment against the chair, when the Earl ac- companied by Brewis, his butler, en- tered. "And so, Mr. Fecit," said the peer, "you won't go to India? Why, where is my snuff-box? I left it on the ta- ble. Didn't you see it here, Mr. Pecit." "I did, my lord; but it has not been here since Mr. Osborne left. Perhaps he took it to hand it to your lordship." I said this in order to see if his lord- ship were a party to the affair. "No, I met him this moment. He would have told me, you know It is very singular." "Very," I said, playing with him. "I am quite sure I left it on the table. Has any one else been here?" "No one but Mr. Osborne." "It's very odd; and I don't know, but-" It's coming now, I thought. "I am quite sure you couldn't have taken it, of course, but, as a matter of form, you had better allow Brewis here to examine your pockets. It will prevent false reports, you know." He felt his degradation, I was sure. He looked meanly. I put my hand to my breast pocket for the express pur- pose of leading him on as I said: "No, my lord. I allow no man, un- der any pretext, to thus degrade me." "Brewis, do you hear?" asked the peer. "This is extraordinary. If you, know nothing of the box, why do you object to being, searched? Under such circumstances I shall insist on it." "Pray," said I, "did it never occur to your lordship that you might have left your box elsewhere in the room?" "No! for I am positive that I left it here." "Brewis," said I to the butler, "do me the favor to lift the paper on yon- der table." Brewis obeyed me, and revealed the box. "Is that what you seek, my lord?" His lordship reddened, but took the box without a word. "I ask your lordship if that be the box?" The Earl muttered "Yes!" "I owe you a thousand apologies, Mr. Fecit," he said after a pause. "The mistake was mine, but your manner-" I might have affected to believe him, though I knew it to be a lie. But I was young and hot-headed, so I inter- rupted him at once. "I would like to believe that your lordship was not engaged in a plot that would disgrace the lowest minded man in the world. But you were. What your motives may have been I can't tell; but you have the comforting reflection of knowing that you have failed." "Do you dare to accuse me, you beggarly brat?" he demanded angrily. "Fine language for a peer," I re- plied. "Do you see that mirror, my lord? Seated before that, I saw your tool at his dirty work, and I have baffled him. I see through you and despise you." The stupid surprise on the butler's features satisfied me that he, at least, was not in the conspiracy. The con- tents of Paul Baghy's letter came to my mind and I could not refrain from a parting shot at random. "Let me tell your lordship one thing. I am more prudent than Don Jose Espinel." The shot told. The Earl's features grew livid with rage and apprehen- sion, and with a laugh I turned on my heel and left him. page: 52-53[View Page 52-53] CHAPTER X., 'Whrein the Storm becomes so fierce that 1 Scud before it. I went home immediately from the castle, and entered the printing room in no pleasant frame of mind. I felt that I had been led by my passion into a serious error. The allusion to Espi- nel's abduction, or murder, whichever it might be, was entirely wrong-not only unnecessary of itself, but a breach of confidence. The Earl would know very well the source from whence I had my information, and thus I had compromised myself. The attempt against myself I could trace to nothing but a belief that I was acquainted with the secret of Espinel; and un- founded though that belief was, the boast would confirm it. In any view of the case I had let my resentment get the better of my prudence-no very wonderful position for a youth to take. Tom Brown expressed surprise at my quick return and commented on my fretted countenance; but I parried his thrusts and answered his questions by evasive monosyllables. I took my composing stick in hand and com- menced to set up one of Mr. Hinck's ponderous leaders. But I was too moody and restless, and emptying my half-filled stick on a galley, I left the copy on the case, threw off my apron, and started for the shop. Here I found Mr. Guttenberg behind the counter serving some customers with station- ery. "You are soon back from the castle to-day, Ambrose." The fact that I went to the castle regularly by invitation of the Earl was a matter of pride with the printer, and he was fond of alluding to it before strangers. I answered him in the affirmative and passed on to the back room. As I did so I heard him say, in reply to some remark made by one of the cus- tomers- "Oh, yes I a great favorite with his lordship." "Why, dear me, Ambrose " ex- claimed Mrs. Guttenberg, looking up from her work as I entered the apart- ment where she was engaged in sew- ing, "you look quite ill. What is the matter? Are you sick?" "Heart-sick, mother," I answered; for I often called her mother, though I never called her husband father; "heart sick." "What's the matter now, Brosy? inquired Mary, "you are pale as a ghost." I "Mary, I want to ta3k to your father and mother a while. Suppose you go into the shop and ask your father to come here when he is disengaged. You can take his place awhile." "What's it all about? Can't I know too?" "Do as Ambrose bids you," said her mother. Mary went out pouting, and in a few minutes Mr. Guttenberg came in I told the couple all that had occurred between me and the Earl, with the ex- ception of my own parting speech. "The vilewretches 1" exclaimed Mrs. Guttenberg,. indignantly. But Mr. Guttenberg only looked grave. "There seems to be no doubt about Mr. Osborne," he said; "but you did wrong to insult his lordship. He no doubt thought you did take the box. It was natural enough under the cir- cumstances, he not knowing yoo well." "Why," said I, "he was in the plot." "That can't be," was the rejoinder. A peer of the realm I Impossible -" "A peer of the realm may be a rascal as well as a peasant of the soil." "But he could have no motive." "He has one, depend on it. I have reason to suspect it, and know why; but it is quite enough, I think, to re- call the warning of the old Countess." "She is half crazy-wholly so at times. You look at it wrongly." We talked the matter over without coming to any agreement. While still engaged in the discussion, Mary came in to tell us that a footman was at the door with a message from Lord Lan- dys who desired to see Mr. Guttenberg immediately, and his lordship's own carriage was in waiting to convey the stationer to the castle. "To see me I Bless me!" exclaimed the tradesman, in a flutter of excite- ment. "Get me my best coat, Mrs. Guttenberg. Mary, tell the servant I'll be ready presently. His lordship's own coach! What an honor! Thank' you, my dear. Tidy my cravat a lit- tle, Mrs. Guttenberg. It's all about you, Ambrose. I'll be conciliatory, but firm." Firm! a tradesman with an earl! "There, my dear, that will do. Am- brose, take charge of the shop till I return." When we left the back room we found Berkeley and the lieutenant- colonel of the regiment, a gray-haired, ramrodish individual, named Carden, chatting with Mary. "Excuse me, gentlemen, but I have to go to the castle on a little business. His lordship has sent for me, and his lordship's coach is waiting, and Am- brose and Mary will attend to you"- and with this off went the delighted printer, riding grandly for th first time in his life, in a coach witlia coro- net on the panels. "He's in a doosid hurry, to be sure,' said Berkeley. "Miss Guttenberg, the Colonel wants that novel I had yester- day. Is there a copy in?" "Two'of them, Captain. Which will you have, Colonel?" "Whichever you choose." "Take care, Colonel," laughed Berke- ley. "One is dog's-eared, and the other mortally wounded in the last leaf. Now, the question is, dog's-ears, or the veteran." "The complete one, by all means, then." While the Colonel was examining some stationery, I took .the Captain aside. "Are you engaged to-night?"I ask- ed. "No-at least to nothing which can't be put off. Why?" "Can you spare me a couple of hours?' "Yes." \ "Then meet me at the Crown and Angel at seven." "Of course, my boy, if it will oblige you. What's up?" "I'll tell you then." Out went the brace of officers. I went to the desk and wrote a note to Sharp, requesting him to meet me at the Crown and Angel at seven, if he were at all interested in a matter that concerned me very much. I gave this to a neighbor's boy, with directions to hunt Sharp up, and get a verbal an- swer. In about an hour the lad re- turned with the reply that he would attend to it. page: 54-55[View Page 54-55] Mary was on nettles all the time to know what was going on. It was quite late in the day when Mr. Guttenberg returned in the noble man's coach. He was filled withnews, and called me into the back room, where Mrs. Guttenberg impatiently awaited us. "I have arranged it all properly," he said. "It was all as I conjectured. His lordship has been very much de- ceived in his steward, whom he has discharged. His lordship is very much hurt at what you said to him, but sends his regret at having suspected you even for a moment; though I must agree with him that, under the circum- stances, the suspicion was not unna- tural. Of course I promised that you would apologize for your very rash, and, I must say, notwithstanding the provocation, very offensive words." "This I cannot do, sir. His lordship was a party to the whole affair." "How unreasonable and absurd you are, Ambrose; and after his lordship, a peer of the realm, has condescended to make the first advances, too. He a party I Why he is perfectly furious against Mr. Osborne 1" "Is he? Will he have his steward arrested for his attempt to fasten crime on me?" "He has sent him away." "He will bring him back in good time." "Now, my dear boy, you surely won't refuse, when I've made a pro- mise. There's nothing disgraceful in a frank apology for such words to a superior." "True, sir; but here the apology would involve a falsehood. I am not the least sorry for my conduct, which was proper enough." "Ambrose," said Mr. Guttenberg, "I need not remind you that I have always done my duty by you. I have treated you like a son. Can you re- fuse me a favor, and not only lose me a patron, but gain me an enemy?" I was a little affected by this ap- peal, but none the less firm. I an- swered promptly: "I am grateful to you-I would serve you in almost anything; but I will not apologise to Lord Landys, and certainly will never hold any inter- course with him. He is an unprinci- pled man, and my enemy." "What nonsense I He's your friend- spoke of you in the warmest manner, said you were a young man of the highest promise; ;and even offered to have you appointed to a post in India, and to advance a thousand pounds for your outfit. A thousand pounds I Think of that 1" "Yes, for some motives of his own he is quite anxious to exile me to In- dia." "Motives I What could he have?" "I do not know; but I do know that he's a scoundrel." "Goodness! the boy is mad I A scoundrel! An earl 1 a nobleman that will be a'duke when his grace of Sel- linghourne dies-a scoundrel I What folly I I tell you what, Ambrose, you are standing in your own light. You will be of age in a few days. I have the papers drawn up, all ready to sign and seal, making you a full partner, not only in the printing and 'station- ery business, but in the Chronicle. I had always meant you should share equally with Mary, as though you were my own son; and now you make me go back of my word." "I am very sorry, but I can't help it." "Then there'll be no Guttenberg & Fecit, I can tell you. No, sir I you'll be no partner of mine-no anything here. You shall leave this house. I'll have no further to do with you i" "Oh, don't say that, John," sobbed his wife. "Give him time. He won't be so obstinate if he has time to con- sider." I shook my head. "I'll give him twenty-four hours, and not one moment more. Let him make up his mind by this time to-mor- row. If he chooses to sacrifice his home and his prospects, and to repay me with ingratitude, all through his selfishness and obstinacy, let him do it-that's all." Off flounced Mr. Guttenberg into the shop, really believing himself a much-injured man, and I absolutely and positively heard him speak snap- pishly to a customer. Mrs. Gutten- berg cried, and pleaded with me. I answered the good old soul kindly and affectionately, but I was determined, nevertheless. Mary came in and look- ed on in double distress-a two-head- ed misery on her part-firstly, on ac- count of the general unhappiness, and secondly, because she couldn't tell what it was all about. That night I went to the Crown and Angel, called for a private room, and directed the waiter to send in those who inquired for me. Captain Berkeley came in about ten minutes before seven. "Here I am, old fellah," cried he, "in advance of time. Now, what is it?" "Wait awhile, Captain. I don't want to tell the same story twice." "A council of three, eh? Who's the third?" "Mr. Sharp." "Whew 1" whistled Berkeley. "Old money-bags, eh? This will be a queer confabulation." "You won't have to wait long, Cap- tain, for there goes the first stroke of my godfather." The last peal of the great bell of St. Stephen's was still echoing when a tap at the door announced the servant who came to usher in old Sharp. The latter stared in surprise at Berkeley, and then, recovering himself, said: "Well, what is it, Ambrose? Don't keep me waiting. Time is money." "I wish the bankers agreed with you, old fellah," said Berkeley, gaily. "Pshaw!" I hastened to prevent a threatened explosion by telling the story of the Earl's attempt, as I had told it before to the Guttenbergs. I did not give my own history-it was not needed. Had I done so it might have saved me tome after trouble. But who knows his future? "Now," said I, when I had finished, "the question is-what shall I do?" "The Countess is mad, and the Earl is madder, and Guttenberg is mad- dest. Mad or no mad," said Berkeley, "he wants to get you out of the road, for some reason best known to him- self. It is quite clear to nIy mind that if you don't go he'll do you a mischief. My advice is, cut and run. What do you say, Mr. Sharp?" "The Captain is right,- Ambrose. You must leave Puttenham for the present, and quickly." "But how, and when?" "At once. Four wagons start for London at two to-morrow morning. One of these will take you. The wag- oner will not disoblige me; he owes page: 56-57[View Page 56-57] me nine pound five shillings nop'nse ha'penny. You can get into the wagon just out of town, and I'll instruct him what to do. Don't attempt to leave the wagon for the mail, no matter how slowly you go. When you get to Lon- don-but have you any friend there?" "Yes; one I can rely on, I think, Mr. Paul Baghy." "Well, go to him, and keep quiet. Have you any money?" "About five pounds; that will last me until I get employment in some printing-house." "Let me give you some money, or you may get into trouble." Berkeley raised his eyebrows at such an offer from Sharp, and then a second time when I declined it. "Very foolish," muttered the old man. "Better lean on a friend's staff than be struck by an enemy's cudgel. However, I'll give you a sealed letter to my bankers when you leave, and you must promise to avail yourself df it when you are in need." I promised. "Now, go home," said Sharp, "get what you want at home; but don't encumber yourself with a large bun- dle. Light load, more speed. Slip out unobserved, and meet us at the Reindeer an hour after midnight." "But this looks like flight, and I am not sure-" "Not a word," said Berkeley. "You asked us to do your thinking, and we have done it. The enemy is too strong, and you must retreat. Leave us to cover your rear." I could see no help for it. It was a choice between going at once of my ovyn accord, or of being kicked out the next day by Mr. Guttenberg. So I returned home, and when the family had retired, made a bundle of a spare suit and some shirts, took the ring and other tokens connected with my history, rolled up Zara's portrait, whioh I cut from its frame, and at a few mi- nutes after one o'clock, let myself quietly out into the street. I found the Reindeer. There were several large wagons in the yard. I was about to go to them, when some one tapped me on the shoulder. It was Berkeley, cloaked. He whispered to me: "Keep from the wagon. We have talked with the wagoner, who will take you up at a distance from town.' You know St. George Clyst." This was a church on the high-road, nearly five miles from town. "Yes." "Well, walk on, and remain in the by-road there. The wagon has one grey horse in the lead; the rest are bays. There are three other wagons, and yours will start last. When you see it approach the mouth of the bye. road, step up to it, and say to the driver, 'fine night for a race.' He'll tell you to get in. Keep close until you arrive in London." Sharp, who had come forward dur- ing the utterance of these instructions, slipped the promised letter into my hand. They both wished me good- speed, and I promised to write to them, and give them the name I should as- sume, for it was not deemed advisable to retain my own in London. We shook hands and parted, and I pushed on to the place of rendezvous. I waited at the spot pointed out for a long while. At length I heard the jingling of bells, and watched first one and then two other wagons pass as I lay in the shadow of the wall. The fourth, with the light horse in the lead, came according to promise in its turn. The wagoner was walking with his horses, evidently expecting some one. I advanced, spoke as had been agreed on, and was helped into the wagon, which only contained hay and a cou- ple of bags of feed. The train was returning empty. I buttoned my great coat closely around me, and was soon fast asleep. I waked up about an hour after day- dawn. We had stopped at a road-side tavern, called the Fair-Mile Inn, and here the wagoner secured me a lunch. The second night I got out of the wag- on before we arrived at our stopping- place, and took lodgings as though I were a foot-passer. In the morning I went out before the starting of the wagon, which picked me up two or three miles farther on. And this was the daily manner of the journey. 'On the fifth day after our departure for London, when within two miles of the town of Coppleton, the fore axle- tree broke short off in the middle, and our progress was suddenly checked: After a consultation between the wag- oner and myself, it was agreed that I should walk to the town, and send back a wheelwright. I did so, although I had some trouble to find an artizan disengaged, and more trouble to induce him to go so far. As I was now with- in forty miles of London, I concluded to remain in the town a few days to recruit myself after my five days' shaking. So I took lodgings at a quiet looking inn, sent for my scanty lug- gage, and bestowed it and myself in a snug' apartment, where I passed a very pleasant night. CHAPTER XI., In which lfind aformer acquaintance, and make new ones. The town of Coppleton is of modern growth, and owes its importance prin- cipally to its glove manufactories, and two large establishments for the manu- facture of chemicals. In the morning I took a stroll through it, to see what was most worthy of note. As I roam- ed up one street and down another, my eyes frequently rested on flaming placards, announcing that the theatre would open on the following Monday, with a new and efficient company; and that the performances, by com- mand of his worship the Mayor, would be "Speed the Plough," and "The Turnpike Gate." I concluded that the performance would be as good, at all events, as any I had hitherto seen in Puttenham, and so I said, thinking aloud: "I think, if I remain here so long, I'll go. Why not?" "Why not, indeed?" said some one at my elbow. I turned. My echo was a broad- shouldered man, rather over the mid- dle size, with a square chin, large mouth, and deeply-set eyes. He was rather shabbily dressed in an old body- coat, buttoned closely up to the chin, trousers polished on the knees, boots, long guiltless of Day & Martin's ma- nufactured lustre, and a hat garnished with brown on the edges of the crown. The presumption was that he wore a shirt, that being supposed to be a ne- cessary part of an Englishman's ap- parel, but there was no ocular evi- dence of the fact. I made up my mind as to his profession, from his tone of voice and manner, and rejoined: page: 58-59[View Page 58-59] "One of the company, I presume?" "Sir, I have that honor. My name is Fuzzy-Oliver Fuzzy. You will ob- serve my name in large letters on the posters. I lead the business on this circuit-play the Hamlets, Richards, and others-and occasionally dc lean myself by assisting in a broad-sword combat between the pieces. However, that keeps my hand in for Richard and Macheth, and 'I dare do all that may become a man; who dares do more is' not Oliver Fuzzy. For all of which old Hare, the Gov., allows me a miser- able sal., when we are playing, and nothing and nopence a week when we are not.' "You have a prominent position, Mr. Fuzzy, and it ought to be profita- ble." "'I do believe your grace,' it ought to be, but it isn't. We don't play here till next week, and as I'm up in every thing we do for the first fortnight, I have nothing to study, and so I am roaming through the town, ' a looker- on here in Vienna,' cogitating on the ways and means of raising a pot of 'arf-and-arf." Here was a character, and 1 resolv- ed to study it. "Suppose you join me in a pot," I said. "I have played a little myself en amateur, and have a sympathy with the profession." "Will I? 'Come on, Macduff."' "But you'll have to point me out the proper place, for I am a stranger here." "Point I nothing easier, as long as you'll point when we get there. '1 do remember me that hereabouts there lives,' not 'a starved apothecary,' but a well-fed publican, who deals in most excellent potations. Shall I attend your grace?" "Lead on; I follow," I said, catch- ing his humor. We soon found ourselves in a little, quiet ale-house, in an alley just back of a plain and dingy-looking building, which my companion informed me was the theatre. By the numerous portraits of leading actors on the walls, as well as from its proximity to the play- house, I inferred that the place was a resort for actors and their fiiends. A couple of pots of half-and-half were soon foaming before us, and Mr. Fuz- zy, blowing off the froth, and exclaim- ing, "Off with his head I So much for Buckingham," took a hasty draught, and replaced the half empty pot on the table. "With some bread and cheese, and a pipe to follow," he said, " this were a banquet for the gods." "Wouldn't a chop be better?"I ask- ed. "Chop I if there be anything for which this house is famous, outside of its malt liquors, it is a chop." So I ordered the chops, and while they were preparing, I asked him con- cerning the actors. "A very fine company, sir," said he. "It's true that our juvenile man is ra- ther shaky-the Governor goes in for that line himself, aind he's past it now -fifty if he's a day; but juvenility is his weakness. Then he chews his words like Charles Kean-that young man'll never make an actor; I know it. I've seen him. Otherwise the company is tip-top, for a poor circuit. Cripps is our low comedy man-more than passable; we've a very honest fellow who makes an admirable vil- lain; and then there's Finch-a good old fellow is Charley Finch-he does everything well, and has to do every- thing, second old man, heavy fathers, high-priests, eccentric comedy, and so on Then there's myself-well, I don't boast; but I could have trod the Lon- don boards before now. Lots of city managers have made me offers; but my health, my health, you see-here's to you, sir?" "And the women?" "The ladies of the company are cle- ver-one especially-Cecilia Finch. She's a prodigy ; the best little juve- nile, the best daughter, and in cham- bermaids-well, they haven't anything in London can hold a candle to her. Ah, she's a gem I and everything she does is-done to a turn, I declare." The last observation had reference to the chops, which the waiter then placed upon the table, and which my new friend attacked with a vehemence and vigor highly complimentary to the grazier who fed the sheep, and the cook who prepared the meal, not ne glecting his speech in the intervals of mastication: "We have a vacancy in the com- pany, though; we want a light come- dy man. We had one engaged, but a screw's loose somehow. I suppose the Governor will scare one up somewhere in time. And here he comes, and Charley Finch." I looked up, and there was my old acquaintance, Haresfoot, in clmpany with a slender, pale and gentlemanly old man. Haresfoot caught my eye, and recognized me at once. "Pray, my dear sir," said he, shak- ing me by the hand, "what lucky wind has blowu you to our coast?" "An accident," I replied; "but I am right glad to see you. You're the ma- nager, I see." "Yes, and a very troubled one just now. The most unfortunate thing in the world. I've announced 'Speed the Plough,' and here my light comedian sends me word three days before we open, that he is laid up with a rheu- matism which will prevent his play- ing for two months-" "Very unfortunate." "Unfortunate I ruinous!" And here the manager fired off his peculiar winks, right and left, with startling rapidity. "By-the-bye, are you up in Bob Handy?" "I've done it a good while since." "Do it again. I'll announce you as a distinguished amateur; give you every chance. They're a most dis- criminating and fashionable audience, the wealthiest glovers in all England; fine women too; set 'em all crazy. It's a chance that only occurs once in a life-time." I thought over the matter a little while. There was a love of the stage in me. I liked the experiment of the thing, and had never any of its rough experiences, and I consented. Mr. Haresfoot was in a state of de- light at once, and fired off his double winks more rapidly than ever. It was arranged that I should appear on the Monday following, and if I made a hit a permanent engagement was to follow, at a salary about equal to what I could earn as a journeyman printer, with two one-third benefits during the year. It was also arranged that my stage name should be Neville, that of Fecit not being considered eligible; and as Mr. Neville I was formally in- troduced to Mr. Finch and Mr. Fuzzy, page: 60-61[View Page 60-61] over a pot of porter a-piece, which Mr. Haresfoot insisted on providing in ho- nor of the occasion General conversation ensued, in which old Finch bore his part, and I was struck with the manner and spirit of the old man's remarks. He was evidently a man of education, and the style of his conversation and move- ments betokened the gentleman. How such a man could ever have become a strolling actor was a mystery, and I determined to fathom it if possible. Finch was a stage name; what his real name was I felt certain I would yet know. I was not of a curious na- ture, in general, but here there was something that provoked prying. I pass over our conversation. As soon as it closed I accompanied the party to the theatre, where rehearsal was about to begin, and was there in- troduced to Billy Nuts, who combined in his person the offices of prompter, property-man, and wardrobe-keeper to the rest of the company, male and fe- male. The rehearsal commenced. As it was manifestly to the interest' of every member of the company that I should succeed, one would have naturally supposed that I should have received every assistance and encouragement. But actors have a contempt, generally well founded, for amateurs; and do not believe that any one can ever leap to a position in their profession. They think that the only way torattain emi- nence is to climh the ladder, round by round; a belief in the main correct enough, although, those who have self- possession, occasionally form excep- tions to the general conclusion. I knew of this feeling, and was there- fore careful to make no attempt at act- ing during rehearsal, but walked through my part in the most hurried and business-like manner. Modest as was my demeanor, it did not save me from sneers and contemptuous looks from every one on the stage except from Finch and his daughter. Instead of daunting me, this put me on my mettle, and I took no apparent notice of it, much as I chafed under the ma- licious looks and words of my col- leagues. The announcement of " a distin- guished amateur, his first appearance on the regular stage," set the good people'of Coppleton in a fever of ex- citement, and to the great delight of the manager, every- seat in the lower tier of boxes was taken in advance. The treasurer informed me as I enter- ed the theatre on Monday morning for the last rehearsal, that the box-sheet presented "a be-yu-tiful appearance," and Billy Nuts said to me, as I came on the stage: "'Ere's a go I Coppleton's waked up I There'll be a crushin' 'ouse, and if youfail after hall this blowin', my heyes I won't there be a jolly row!" - When the night came, the 'little house was jammed long before the curtain rose, and on my appearance I was warmly received, my stage-pre- sence being rather striking, and my features prepossessing. But, to my utter dismay, a powerful stage-fright took possession of me; the audience seemdoa to' be sitting in a mist, my tongue refused to move, and my knees trembled so much that I was scarcely able to stand. A dead and painful si- lence fell over the house like a pall, interrupted by a titter from one of the side-boxes. I was about to turn and flee from the stage, when I caught a glimpse of the face of Fuzzy, mali- ciously triumphant, at the wing. It recalled my powers instantly. The stage-fright left me as suddenly as it had come. Through the part I rattled vivaciously, my spirits rose with every scene, never was I more mercurial; and every fresh round of applause gave me new spirit. The curtain dropped on the epi- logue amid a deafening shout of the audience, and I was called before the curtain (a rare compliment in the town) with the utmost enthusiasm. I was announced to re-appear in the same character on the Wednesday following, to the apparent delight of the house; and the performers crowd- ed around me on the stage to offer their congratulations on my success. "Hit's the greatest 'it, sir," said Billy Nuts, "has 'as been made 'ere, by hall hodds. You're no hamachure; you're a hactor." And Billy, in the exuberance of his. delight, qualified his assertion by an expletive more earnest than pious, and quite unnecessary to repeat. CHAPTER XII., Wherein Selgrove quite undoes the work of Appleton, until te set two Richards in the f * eld. Our season at Coppleton was a great success. I became the fashion, and it was considered high ton among the glove-makers to witness the perfor- mance of Mr. Neville, "an artist," as the Coppleton Journal observed, "with- out a peer in his line of business.' This should have been true, as Hares- foot was an undoubted judge of act- ing, and as he wrote the puff and paid for its insertion, it was naturally to be presumed that such was his unbiased opinion. But the plain truth was mere- ly that I was no actor at all, and owed my success to a fine figure, a rather handsome face, a strong verbal memo- ry, and a full flow of animal spirits. So long as I pleased the public, the manager did not care to enlighten me as to my deficiencies; and because I pleased the public, my fellow-actors did not dare to; and so I believed myself to be a capital performer. I know better now; but fortunately I did not know then; and the occasional sharp criticism of the judicious few fell from my self-love as harmlessly as the rain-drops from the back of a wa- ter-bird. I did not forgive these can- did critics, nevertheless, for I believ. ed, as a matter of course, that each had an especial spite at me, and look- ed at my performance with the eyes of envy and hatred. I became intimate with none of the company except Finch and his daugh- ter, both of whom interested me very much-wonder mingling with the in- terest in his case, and delight ming- ling with the interest in hers. Cecilia Finch was at that time about the age of seventeen, and though her features were neither classical in their outline, nor striking in their general effect, they were nevertheless beautiful from their sweetness when in repose, and their archness of expression when lit up by conversation. I have said that her features were not regular, her nose being too small and her forehead too high; but she had clear, hazel-grey eyes, large and lustrous, and a pair of lips that were delightful to look at in repose, and were highly mobile under emotion. In general her manner was extremely quiet; but on the stage she was dashing, without being bold, and page: 62-63[View Page 62-63] piquant without being pert. She was a deserved favorite with the public, for she had a deal of talent, capable of still further development, while she was respected by the actors in the compa- ny, and petted by the actresses. This popularity was not courted. She kept herself apart from the rest, and de- voted herself to her father, to whom she was a shadow-seeming never more cheerful than when with him. That Finch had been born, or at least bred a gentleman, I had no man- ner of doubt. His manner, language, and evidently liberal education, be- trayed the fact. It was not very long before I became sufficiently intimate with him and his daughter to gain his confidence, and, little by little, I ob- tained the leading points of his histo- ry. He had been the son of a man of wealth and family, and at the age of twenty had gone off to join. a company of strolling players. His father, after endeavoring to reclaim him in vain, had left his whole estate, which was not entailed, to the young- er brother, and shortly after died. Finch married a member of the com- pany to which he was attached. This completely severed him from his fami- ly connections, and his lot in life was fixed. I should have said, however, that my intimacy in the company extended to one more. I became well acquaint- ed with Billy Nuts, necessarily; for Billy was the ubiquitous and energe- tic factotum of the company, and whe- ther he prompted the performers, painted scenery, made properties, picked out dresses, or murdered the King's English, he did it with a tho- roughness quite his own. I soon grew to be a great favorite with Billy, prin- cipally, I believe, because I admired hugely a new scene-an interior- which he painted for us at Coppleton, and which, especially when we consi- der the scanty materials at his com- mand, was a really clever bit of art. Billy was full of stories, too. He had been nearly everywhere, had tried al- most every line of life, and had a yarn apropos to every occasion. I used to spend a deal of time, after rehearsal, in the paint-loft, where Billy, when he had nothing else to do, would patch and re-vamp the old scenery, chang- ing a worn-out English landscape, by the introduction of a palm-tree here and a pyramid there, with divers daubs of ochre and amber, into a passable oriental view ; and by a few upright strokes, surrounded by zig-zag lines, and some harlequin patches of' color, converting a plain English interior in- to a Moorish palace. In all this my former intercourse with Paul Baghy enabled me to give Billy a hint or two at times, which seemed to increase his respect for me amazingly. Finch, who had a taste for the fine arts, used to climb to the paint-room occasionally, and there we three held confabulation on various matters to our hearts' content. I had been about two months in the company, and our season at Coppleton was about to close, when I learned the cause of Finch's continued melancholy. Tqe poor man had been doomed to death by his doctor, who informed him that he labored under a disease of the heart which might take him away at any moment. This was the spectre that haunted him night and day ; that clouded his life with a darkness the most terrible, and which ,neither the regard of those around him, nor the affectionate ministrations of his daugh- ter could for a moment disperse. If it fostered melancholy, however, it begat gentleness; and Charles Finch had never had a harsh or unkind word for any one, and never appeared, under any circumstances, to lose either pa- tience or temper. The very day after I had obtained these facts from Finch, we were in the paint-room, as usual, and I was sketch- ing out a scene in charcoal on a flat, for the use of Billy, when the latter said: "That's a werry good idear, Mr. Ne- ville; Spanish, is it not?" "No, Billy; it is a sketch of a spot where I was bred." "It looks Spanish. Lord bless you, we haint no scenery here can hold a candle to some in Spain. That flat the Governor's so fly on, I painted from memory, but it don't come up to the real thing. If I could draw like you now, I'd show 'em some paintin'." "So you've been in Spain, too?" "I was a walley, sir, to a gent as traveled in the Peninzelay-an' that minds me of an event. I've been puz- zlin' my 'ead hever since you've-been with us, about your face, which I know'd I'd seen afore-and now I know why. I seed a young 'oman as looked as like you as two peas-let me see- the matter of twenty odd year ago. My master, Mr. Teignham an' I was in Cadiz." Finch started, and colored, for some unexplained reason, but resumed his self-possession in an instant. Nuts went on with his story. "One night, he sez to me, sez he, 'Villiam, we're goin' to the Consulate.' 'Wery veil, sir,' sez I. Ven ve got there I found he yos to be a vitness to 1 a veddin'. I seed the marriage myself. I didn't know their names; but the young 'oman vos the von as resembled you. There; that kind o' startled look you put on brings her face back to me right away." "What kind of looking man was the bridegroom?" "Vell, a tall, dark-complected man; a %eetle stiff, but a nob, every hinch of 'im, or PI'm no judge." "Were they Spaniard's?", "I think not. They vouldn't 'a been married at the Consulate hunless they vos Henglish." The conversation soon changed, but I thought over it for some time. Was I always to be reminding every one of. somime one else, and never toknow even the names of the party to whom I bore so strange a resemblance? Other matters drove the conversa. tion away from my mind. Our season at Coppleton closed, and we next went to Selgrove. We had no regular the- atre there, merely a temporarily-fitted room, used at other times for concerts and assemblies, spacious enough, how- ever, and likely to afford ample room1 for our audience. For althpugh Sel-2 grove was a theatrical town', the resi- dence of a population fond of amuse- ments, circumstances robbed us of our power to attract. A religious revival had taken place just before our ad. vent, and the clergymen of the place preached furiously against the drama. In spite of the reputation I bore from Coppleton, in spite of the most flaming placards, and the most labored adver- tisements, our houses were meagre at the commencement, and fell off visibly every night, until an audience of six, all told, caused the utmost consterna- tion to both manager and actors. page: 64-65[View Page 64-65] Well might we be alarmed. The time for opening at Potterburn, our next town, was not for three months, and as all of us, except Finch, were rather improvident, there was but a gloomy prospect. Haresfootmanaged adroitly enough, changing the pieces every night, and trying every expe- dient his wits could invent; but all was in vain. The theatre had been ta- booed, and the people would not come. The treasury was soon emptied of the surplus gained at Coppleton, and though half salaries were submitted to, the houses did not afford even these. At length a council was held to deter- mine some plan by which we might retrieve our losses, or fight our way until the time announced for opening at Potterburn. A most forlorn and distressed set of comedians, to be sure, gathered in council upon the stage one Saturday morning. Some had been confined for a week to a single meal a day, others were in debt for their lodgings, and none knew what to attempt." "Now, gentlemen," said Haresfoot, ,when we had all assembled, " the trea- sury is barren. Unless some one can suggest a movement likely to be pro- fitable, we shall have to suspend our performances until the season at Pot- terburn opens." "I can think of nothing but an emp- ty belly," growled Fuzzy. "I've been living for the last week off a pair of boots, and I can get through next week on a coat; but I can't eat everything I have on my back, you know." I was aghast at this for a moment. I had read of people who had eaten leather and cloth in shipwrecks, but such a thing was strange in civilized England in the nineteenth century. The explanation soon flashed over my' mind that the articles had been sold and the money devoted to the purchase of food, and I grew easier. Then, as no one had any plan to propose, I spoke up myself and said: "Have you ever given an entirely new local piece on the circuit, Mr. Haresfoot?" "No, sir, never. In the first place there is never any occurrence here to dramatise, and in the second place the London play-wrights ask too high for their pieces." "Why," I said, "the occurrences may be invented, and as for the piece, fudge something out of six or seven forgotten plays, give the thing a local name, paint new scenery, with views of all the principal places in town, an- nounce it with a flourish of trumpets, and the thing is done." The suggestion was hailed raptu- rously by all save Billy Nuts. "Hit's all wery fine," said that wor- thy, " hit's a hidea; lots o' tin in it, I dessay; but where's the money to come from to paint the scenery? I can't daub up with nothin'. Prooshin blue and chrome yaller, an' rose pink, costs money. There's ten pound o whitin', an' a paper o' lampblack, an' a pound o' glue in the paint-loft; an' them won't do. Mebbe Mr. Neville 'll show us how to make paint, as he's so clever." "There's a chance to get money to mount a piece," said Haresfoot, "tho' I don't like the way. You know young Phipps, the butcher, That young man is bent on making an Edmund Kean or a Judy of himself, and he offers twenty pounds to let him play Richard for one night. It will be a sorry ex- hibition; but the money is tempting. Still, Richard by Phipps-ugh!" We all laughed but Fuzzy; he was indignant. "Richard!" exclaimed the trage- dian. "Why, who's to play Rich- mond?" "We expect you to do that," answer- ed the manager. "Me I I'm only to play second to a London star, you know." "True, Mr. Fuzzy, but under such circumstances, and on an occasion-" "Occasion me no occasions, Mr. Haresfoot. Second to a butcher 1 Ne- verI Its a desecration of the drama- tic temple--an insult to the memory of Bill Shakspeare. My love for the glorious art will not stand it. Be- sides, Richard falls to me as the lead- ing man." "We can arrange all that," replied Haresfoot. "You two can play scene for scene alternately; and then all you have to do is to play him down." "Yes, play him down," we all cho- rused. "Well, I rather like that. I'll do it," shouted Fuzzy; "but I must have the combat scene." "Unfortunately, Phipps, to whom I have already suggested the doubling, insists on being killed by Richmond. Mr. Neville is to :revenge the murder of the tyrant, Gloster, on his repre- sentative, and butcher the butcher." "That can all be arranged," I inter- posed, for a mischievous idea entered my head. "I'll undertake to bring Mr. Phipps to reason. Let us consider that as all settled, and now we'll sketch the plot and incident of the piece. The first point is the title." "It'll have to be a taking one." growled Fuzzy, "or the jailor of Sel- grove will take us." "The very thing!" exclaimed Finch. "The Jailor of Selgrove-a superb ti- tle." "Who is to be a miser and a ruf- fian?"I said, "and yet neither one nor the other. Supposed to be cruel to his prisoners, he is really studious of their comforts; and supposed to be a sordid miser, he spends the money he amasses by economy in secret charities to the deserving." Haresfoot laughed, for he recognized the prototype of my character. "And aids a young man," said he, "who is poor and deserving, and in love with a duke's daughter, who looks down on him." "The young man turns out to be his nevvy, to whom he leaver lots o' tin," suggested Billy Nuts. "And the jailor an eccentric noble- man, who takes the position in order to effect good," chimed in Finch. "And the young man is charged with murder, with the evidence strong against him; but it is all cleared up in the last scene," put in one of the com- pany. "The murder being really commit-. ted by his rival, a gloomy baronet, who commits suicide in the last scene but one, and, by way of atonement, leaves half his fortune to the young man aforesaid, and the other half to found a lunatic asylum," added ano- ther. "With a screaming funny man," said our low comedian, "the miser's half-starved servant, who has two com- ic songs, and a hornpipe in fetters." "And a duett with the lively maid of the duke's daughter," I said. Thus suggestions were thrown in and noted down; incidents were sto- len from other plays, and held ready page: 66-67[View Page 66-67] to be dovetailed in. Haresfoot and Finch agreed to put the thing into pro- per shape; I was to make sketches of the interior of the county jail, the mar- ket place, the main street, and other spots of interest, and Billy was to paint the new scenery.. The next morning "the first appear- ance of a young gentleman on any stage, in the character of the Duke of Gloster," was duly announced, and the bills were all underlined with the an- nouncement of the new piece, " a start- ling local drama, to be produced with entirely new scenery, costumes, prop- erties and effects." The bait took. Selgrove woke up. The old taste for theatricals revived. There was every prospect that in addi- tion to a crowded house to witness the debut of Phipps we would have a per- fect jam on the first night of the new piece. As to Phipps's night, it was soon placed beyond doubt, for bvery availa- ble place was bespoken long before, and when the doors were open, the check-taker was kept busy for over an hour without intermission, and long before the rising of the curtain a large board, with the words chalked upon it, "No MORE STANDING-ROOM," had to be placed at the door. Matters did not go so smoothly on the stage. Phipps had expected to be furnished with the proper costume, and was quite astounded, when he waited at the wardrobe, to be shown a red re- gimnntal coat and buff breeches, as the dress assigned. "Oh, come!" said he, "that won't do, you know. I want my ten pounds' worth." "Ain't you goin' to git it?" inquired Billy. "What have you, or any man, got agin that dress, I'd like to know?" "Why, that's a soldier's coat/' "Vell, vosn't King Richard a sol- dier? That's the hidentical coat that Garrick vore. I 'ope you don't think you're a better hactor than Garrick, Mr. Phipps." "Yes-that's all well enough; but Richard was king." "So he vos; in course he vos. And didn't his late majesty vear a red coat an' bluff breeches? An' vosn't he a king? In course he vos." ' But look at the dress you've given Mr. Fuzzy." "Fuzzy peuwides that hisself; and if he's goin' to make a fool of hisself, by puttin' on such crinkums, that's his business." There was no help for it; Mr. Phipps was obliged to don the regimentals, or go on in street costume. Of two evils, he wisely chose the least. He came to me with his troubles, and I comforted him by asserting that the costume was a minor matter, and that spirited acting would replace any de- ficiency in that line, especially among among an audience made up largely of his personal friends. The summons of the call-boy cut short our discus- sion, and at it we went. I had seen a few performances be- fore, and. a great many since; but I never beheld any so peculiar as that I witnessed on that evening. Phipps was not only an untaught amateur, bathe had not a particle of natural genius, and bellowed, stamped and roared after a fashion which beggared description. The alternation of scenes made it worse, by contrast; for Fuzzy was an actor, though a poor one, and did not outrage all the proprieties by his performance. As a large number of Phipps's friends were in the house, the hisses were always drowned by a storm of applause; but the whole scene was the most laughable ever witnessed there; a hilarious tragedy. The final scene was too much, howe- ver, for the most staunch friend of the debutant. Both performers expected to have a monopoly of the last scene, and simul- taneously made their entrances. The audience stared, and when the two fran- tic Richards demanded each a horse, some mad-cap in the audience shouted out: "Better take a coach and pair!" At this the house burst into a loud guffaw; but the Richards were too bent on their business to notice it. Besides, the blood of each was up, and they were determined to play each other down. When they simultaneous- ly told me that they hated me for my blood of Lancaster, I was well satis- fied that they hated me for something else, and so vigorously did they assail me, that I had some difficulty in pre- serving my head from being cut open by the foil of one or the other. How- ever, I fought vigorously, the audience cheering at the unusually prolonged combat, until my arm grew tired, and I was forced to run for it. This they did not mean to let me do; both had their blood up at the trick I had play- ed them, and assailing me from sepa- rate sides, cut off my retreat. Finding my strength failing, I dodged between the two, and overleaping the narrow orchestra, sheltered myself amid the audience in the pit. The two Richards would have followed me to wreak their revenge, but the fiddlers drove them back, and they attacked each other. How long they would have continued amid the cheering of the audience, it is impossible to say, but an accident changed the character of the combat. Fuzzy's foot tripped on the edge of a trap-door which had not been entirely closed, and falling for- ward, his head struck Phipps full in the stomach. Both fell, and their- swords flying out of their hands, the curtain fell on the rival crookbacks engaged in a supine position, in a game of fisticuffs. To prevent the house from being torn down by the excited audience, the rival Richards were forced to appear before the curtain ; Richard No. 1 with his left eye in mourning; and Richard No. 2 with the, blood streaming from his royal nostrils, while the Earl of Richmond looked upon his late antago- nists from his sure refuge in the cen- tre of the pit. CtIAPTER XIII., Which, after a brilliant success, brings about a catastrophe and a warning. The performance of Richard, which I have described in the last chapter, was not only unique in itself, but ser- viceable to the company, since it drew attention to the theatre, and set the good people of Selgrove a-gog in re- gard to the new piece. I received no gratitude, however, but a deal of ill- will, in return for my share in this de- sirable result.. The manager declared my conduct to be highly unprofession- al, as no doubt it was, and took me roundly to task for having compro- mised the dignity of the stage, and the reputation of the theatre. Fuzzy was sulky and morose, and laid his bruised nose at my door.' The offended amateur, whose friends informed him that he had been made a butt of, threat- page: 68-69[View Page 68-69] ened vengeance, and endeavored to organize a cabal for the avowed pur- pose of hissing me from the stage. A nice piece of hot water I had dipped in, to be sure; and though I was un- der no alarm as to. consequences, I mentally resolved to allow my love of mischief less rein in the future. Finch spoke to me very sensibly on the sub- ject, and pointed me out that the con- sequences of such freaks was to raise me up enemies who might at some in- opportune moment do me an evil turn. At the same time he admitted the temptation to have been great for a lover of the ludicrous. Partly to avoid expense, and partly to impress the public with the extent of our preparations, the theatre was closed for a week previous to the pro- duction of our new play-the actors, when rehearsal was over each day, lounging in knots on the steps, or be- taking themselves to Such porter- houses in the neighborhood as were liberal of their credit. As for me, I divided my hours between the pursuit of my favorite study of languages at home, the yarns of Billy Nuts in the paint-loft, and the conversation of Finch and his daughter at their lodg- ings, which I frequently visited. In the last case Finch was the main at- traction, for though I was young, and Cecilia agreeable, I was not in the least in love with the young lady, nor had I the most remote reason to sus- pect that she regarded me in any other light than that of a pleasant acquain- tance. The new piece was announced for Monday night. The Saturday night previous I climbed to the paint-loft to watch Nuts give the finishing touch to the great scene of the Market-place of Selgrove. Billy was as loquacious as usual, and Finch, who was there, more melancholy than ever. After Billy had got off one of his most marvel- lous yarns, he turned to me and said: "An' that minds me, Mr. Neville, that there vos a gent as inkvired wery pertickler arter you yisterday." "Ah I who was he?" "That's vot I don't know. He's a gent as seed me lookin' unkimmon dry, an axed me to vet my vissle. I know'd he vos a gent by his behavior as sich." "What did he ask?" "Vy, he said you vos a clever young hactor, an' ax'd if you 'adn't some other name besides Neville, an' vere you come from, an' vere you lodged, an' if you were steady or fond of a drop. 'Vell,' sez I, 'most young hactors takes fancy names; but vere Mr. Neville comes from I never ax'd, an' vere he lodges you'll git from the box-hoffis', sez I, ' an' has for his stea- diness, there haint a steadier or a pro perer-behaved young man in the per- fession', sez I, 'though Mr. Fuzzy does think he's a leetle too fond of a lark.'" "What kind of a looking man was the questioner, Billy?"I inquired. "A short, stout gent; kvite the gent in his dress an' manner he vos too; kvite nobby." Finoh said to me: ' When you have been in the pro- fession as long as I, you won't mind these sort of inquiries. Some people take an absurd interest in the history of actors, and their sayings and do ings off the stage, especially if they be popular favorites. It's only a trou- blesome way of showing their re gard e "A very impertinent way." "The penalty of popularity; nothing more." I thought that probably the conjec- ture of Finch was correct; but the circumstance gave me some uneasi- ness, neveitheless. This was momen- tary. Finch left the paint-loft, and I followed and joined him on his way home, as I had promised to take tea with him at his lodgings. On our way Finch said: "I have a trust for you, if you will execute it." "Certainly; if T can." "I have been troubled with a diffi- culty of breathing for several days past, and so I consulted a doctor about it." "And he told you that you, had the phthisic, I suppose," I rejoined. "Nothing of the sort, I am sorry to say. He sings the same tune with the rest. He says that-well, I can't re- member medical jargon, but it is some- thing about valves and auricles-and the long and short of it is that I shall not last long." "That has been the doctors' pro- phecy for a long while, hasn't it?" "Yes; and a true one it will prove. I am prepared for the worst. I have endeavored to do my duty, and the old stroller. is ready to have his bones laid in earth whenever it pleases Provi- dence to so order it. I have looked death so long in the face that he has no terrors for me. But Cecilia-" "Have no fears for her, my friend. She has talent, determination, and good sense, and there is no one in the com- pany who would not guard her from harm." "True; but she is young, and I have the fears of a father. I do not wish her to remain on the stage. If any- thing should happen to me, there is a slight favor that you can do me." "Name it." "Here is a letter which I have pre- pared. It is addressed to Adolphus Teignham, Esquire. Here is his pro- per address on this card. If I should be carried off suddenly, enclose it in one announcing my death, and post it as soon as possible. It is addressed to my younger brother. He is a wi- dower, but has no children; and I think he will take charge of Cecilia, from pride of blood, if not from affec- tion." I took the letter and gave the pro- mise required, though at the same time I tried to disperse the cloud of fears which hung so heavily on the old man. It was a vain attempt. The night for the new play came, and the theatre was crowded. As a drama the piece was good for nothing, having neither unity of plot, cohe- rence of incident, nor novelty of cha- racter; but the local scenery which illustrated it, and the telling hits which had been ruthlessly plundered from all authors, tickled the public fancy, and won a. complete success. For weeks and weeks it filled the house nightly, until the close of the season, when the final performances was marked by a tragic incident. The drama closed with the discovery of the jailer's true character, the frus- tration of the villain, and with all those who were good being made hap- py, and all those who were bad being made miserable-a most conventional ending. Finch played the old miser, while Cecilia and myself were the lovers of the piece. The last words of Finch, which page: 70-71[View Page 70-71] brought down the curtain, were: "I owed my self-mortification to the past. I have endeavored to atone for my former follies, by a course of good to others. How I have succeeded is for the future to determine; but for to-night it is enough if our kind friends are pleased with the Jailer of Sel- grove." During the entire performance Finch had hesitated several times, and seem- ed to find difficulty in utterance. In the last scene he had got so far as the words "for the future," when he stop- ped, burst into tears, and staggered. I caught him on the instant. His fea- tures were convulsed-he repeated the words " the future," and then uttering with great difficulty, "the letter," fell back. Cecilia sprang forward shriek- ing, and clasped his hand. He smiled on her, and tLe next moment was dead. The stage was in confusion in an in- stant, and the house, which divined the event, was hushed to stillness, as the curtain fell. Haresfoot went in front and announced the unexpected trage- dy, when the audience quietly dis- persed. That night I posted the letter to Mr. Teignhaln, and in forty-eight hours Cecilia's uncle arrived. He took clarge of Finch's, or rather Frederic Teign- ham's body, which was to be. interred in the family vault at Staffordshire ; at once acknowledged his niece, thanked me for my attention in a polite but cold way, and left on the following day. The morning of Mr. Teignham's ar- rival, I received by mail, bearing the Puttenham post-mark, the following letter: "Honored sir-I have learned from a conversation which I have over- heard, the place you are at, and the name you bear, and that some harm is meant you. My lady, to whom I told it, has ordered mle to write and letyou know. So no more at present from yours to command." The epistle had neither date nor sig. nature, but I felt well assured that it came from Gifford. The inquiries, then, had been made with an object, and probably by an agent of the earl, or Osbprne. After reflection, I con. eluded the best thing for me to do was to seek my original destination. I sought Haresfoot in order to tell him my determination, and found him not in the best of humors. "Here is a nice piece of business, to be sure," said the manager. "They have made Miss Finch break her en- gagement, and here I shall have to open at Pottenbury with no chamber- maid nor juvenile lady. Who's to fill her place, I wonder? There's Parker, whose place you took, wants an en- gagement; but he's no lady." "I'm glad to hear you can get him," I answered, "as I will have to leave." "What I what!" exclaimed Hares- foot, firing off a dozen winks in his dismay. "You going too!" "I shall be obliged to. I am glad that my going won't inconvenience you." "But I don't choose to have you leave in that way. If I suffer every one to violate engagements in that kind of way, I shall be at the mercy of the company." I explained my reasons as well as I could without letting him know too much of my history; and as Mr. Park- er was really the better actor of the two, left him mollified. My affairs were soon arranged, and in a few hours I was in the city of London. CHAPTER XIV., Which brings back little Zara, and introduces a real Diuke. The sensations of a provincial on his first entry into the metropolis, soon change. At the beginning there is an impression of vastness, of hurry, of bewilderment, and the apprehension that his dress, person and manner, are the subject of the crowd's contemptu- ous observation; but this is soon fol- lowed by asense of dullness, the no- velty wears off, indifference follows, and the self-assurance that the glances around have no meaning, and that he is in some measure invisible to those who have no time to spare from their own affairs by wasting a thought on him. 'I found no trouble in regard to lodg- ings, readily engaging a scantily fur- nished room in an obscure and quiet street. After making the necessary arrangements about coal and candles, I went to bed early, and enjoyed a quiet sleep. I started early in the morning to seek employment. I found printing- houses enough, but no vacancy at a case, and became rather disheartened. As I was wandering along I came to Rathbone Place, and looking up saw that I was at No. 38. I saw the sign of Winsor & Newton, the leading art- ists' colormen in London, and in fact in all Europe. As I knew that Paul Baghy used their tube colors in pre- ference to all others, it occurred to me that he might deal there direct, so I went in and asked his address. One of the shopmen was kind enough to write down the street and number for me, and to tell me the distance, and by what omnibuses I would reach near- est the spot. I set off, and in the course of a half hour was at Paul's studio. It was situated on the first floor of a rather handsome house, in a fashion- able thoroughfare. I climbed the stairs, and seeing the words, "Mr. P. Baghy, Artist," on a door, knocked. The summons not being answered, I repeated it, when the door suddenly opened. A tall man, his face nearly covered with a thick beard, .grasped the door-knob with one hand, and held his palette, brushes and mahl-stick with the other. The bearded gentleman, whom I did not at all know, inquired my business by the monosyllable, sharply uttered, "Well?" I was about to apologize, and state whom I expected to find there, when he released the door-knob, grasped me by the hand, and dragged me into the room. "Why, what wind blew you here, Ambrose?" he asked, as we mutually recognized each other. "You're the last one I expected to see." "1'll tell you that," I answered,. "when I am quite sure this is Mr Paul Baghy, and not el Conde O'Samayer." He lauglled. "All your provincial friends shave, I suppose; but London just now is visited with an overflow of beard. Esau is a man-about-town. But you shall dine with me to-day. As the din- ner hour is some time off, we'll have a famous confabulation first." He turned the key in the door. "There, bring yourself to an anchor in that easy chair. I won't see any one until we've had our talk out, that's page: 72-73[View Page 72-73] lat. Tell me what brought you here, and I'll listen while I work away on the face of this fat dowager. It would be a superb portrait, only it lacks co- lor-on the nose. If I only dared to *paint her grace's proboscis in all its radiant glory, it would it would illu- minate the place like ten wax candles. But, proceed. As my Yankee friend and patron, Archbold, would say, 'Go a-head!" "Do you know my early history?" "Bits of it. Found like Moses in the bulrushes, or something-wasn't it?" "I'd better begin at the beginning, so you'll understand what follows " "By all means. Begin at the be- ginning, and Cousin Sally Dilliard it as little as you can." "W hat's that?" "Oh, one of Archbold's queer stories. I'll recite it for you at another time. -Comnencez. mon ami!" I narrated briefly the main points of my life, he commenting from timq to time. When I came to my parting shot at the earl, and expressed my re- gret at my folly, he said: "Don't concern yourself. He and I -are no more friends, and I defy him." "Now," said I, when I had closed, ' What do you think of it all?" "Think I why that you would have been a mine of wealth to Mrs. Rad- cliffe. You are no doubt the long-lost heir to the crown of China, and I ex- pect, on your accession to the throne of your august ancestors, to be ap- pointed court-painter, with an income of a million a minute. Seriously, I see no mode at present of fathoming the mystery. If we had that packet. As this new play of Richelieu says, 'your witness must be that same dis- patch.' But I can possibly assist you a little. Have you a copy of those in- scriptions with you?" "I have the things themselves with. me, that is, the ring and brooch." Very absurd that; leave them here or you may lose them. Let me see- yes, copy them on that slip of paper for me. I remember 'Bugunda Jawa' -let me have the others. I know a sort of Dr. Dryasdust who knows sev. eral times more languages than you- can talk fluently in fifty tongues or more, and yet in general he hasn't words enough to throw at a dog. I'll make it my special business to see him to-night, and force him to translate. But where are you staying?" I told him. He knew the place very well, apparently, for he curled his lip, and said: "Miserable locality. You must have better lodgings." "They're fully as good as prudence warrants at present." "Oh, no, they're not. Bring your traps-they're portable enough, I fan- cy-here. There is a good bed in the other room, which is principally used by friends of mine-late gentlemen, benighted on this side of town. There is a chest of drawers for your clothes, a small drawer in it, with a lock and key, for your papers and trinkets. Stay with me until you get settled em- ployment, and as long after as you like." "You are very kind, and I thank you; but a poor printer shouldn't lodge, with a fashionable artist." "Printer! why, man, it is an art imperial; the monarch of all crafts and mysteries.. If I were not an art, ist, I would be a printer. Then, you're the heir to the empire of China, you know and, if your majesty will deign- but you must come. If you don't, you shan't see Zara." "Zara!" "Ha!"I thought I should bring you. Fetch your things to-morrow, and take possession, and you shall see the pret- ty Spaniard." "Where is she? Tell me about her -and him." "About her-very easy. About him -impossible I Zara is at a ladies' school in the suburbs-a parlor board- er. She is under the joint guardianship of another and nmyself. Several months after I saw Espinel in the Park-as I wrote you, you know-I met him at a conversazione. I found that he was very intimate with the Duke of Silling- bourne, one of my patrons. He de- clared that he did not recognize me, when he saw me in the Park, and I had no reason to doubt his word. We be- came intimate. I soon learned that he was a Spanish nobleman, and had been a monk, but had been released from his vows, for family reasons, shortly before he came to England. I cannot tell you his object here, nor who Zara really is; for that is a secret confined to two others beside himself-that is, to the Duke and me. All that I can tell you is, that she is his niece." "Then your old conjecture proved to be right after all." "Precisely so. Just previous to my last letter to you, Espinel went from his lodgings one day for a stroll, and never returned. We have traced him to a certain part of London, where he was met by a person, whose descrip- tion tallies with that of Osborne; but your information that he was so many miles off on that day has relieved him,? "I am not so sure," I said, "but what, from my friendship to you, the object of my inquiries, carelessly made though they were, may have been suspected; and I may have been intentionally mis- informed." "That must be looked to. I thought you wrote to me from personal knowl- edge. But come here early in the morning, and we'll see Zara." About ten o'clock next morning I re- moved my scanty luggage to Paul's apartments, and took possession of the chamber assigned to me. I had no more than locked up Sharp's letter and my trinkets in one of the drawers, be- for Paul called me into the studio. There I saw a tall, thin and sickly- looking, but nevertheless commanding old gentleman, who scanned with ear- nest but not offensive curiosity. "Ambrose," said Paul, "I wish to present you to the Duke of Silling- bourne. This, your grace, is Mr. Fecit, of whom I spoke." The Duke shook my hand. "I am glad to meet you; young gen- tleman," said his grace. "I may as well mention that it is not merely your singular history, which Mr. Baghy has confidentially mentioned, which inter- ests me; but the acquirements which he tells me that you possess, and your general character." I bowed; I, a poor young printer, and a foundling, complimented by a duke. It was like a dream. "I have had my (Edipus at work on your riddle," said Paul. "The words of the Countess were Malay. 'Bagan-. da Jawa,' mean literally, 'The Prince of Java.'. The inscriptions, the Pro- fessor says, are in the Korinchi cha- racter, though they give Malay words. The Malays, it appears, use the Ara- page: 74-75[View Page 74-75] bic characters, but it is supposed that they formerly used the Korinchi let- ters. The words on the ring are, 'chinchin baganda,' meaning 'the prince's ring ;' and the letters on the brooch stand for ' piniti baganda,t 'the prince's pin.' After all, it does not amount to much." "It is a step in the investigation," remarked the Duke. "Can it be possible," I inquired "that I am Javanese?" "Quite impossible, 1 should say," an- swered Paul. "The Javanese face be- longs to a peculiarly marked race; its features are as distinctive as those of the Mongolian or African. Yours bears no resemblance to it whatever. Your face is as thoroughly European as mine. But we must visit Zara, and you had better get ready." It was not long before I made the necessary changes in my dress, and rejoined them. As we were going down stairs, I said apart to Paul: "Do you know that I have been thinking a deal about the old Countess noticing my ear." "Poh! don't let that mislead you. Your ear is slightly malformed; the back of the lobe is drawn tightly to the jaw. She has a quick eye, and was attracted by an unusual trifle. The oddity of the thing struck her- that was all." "The Earl, you know," I suggested, "asked me if I were quite sure I was born in England." "Merely because he didn't know what else to say." I had great confidence in Paul's judgment, but I weighed all these lit- tle things in my mind a great deal. We soon reached the "Home Semi. nary," and on sending up our names, the principal, a formal and precise mid- dle-aged maiden lady, joined us. With a triple air, compounded of deference to the Duke, courtesy to Paul, and gra- ciousness to me, she engaged us in con- versation while Zara was summoned from the school-room. Presently the door opened-Zara made her appearance, hesitated at the sight of a stranger, and then advance ing, laid her hands in those of the duke and Paul. She had grown in height, bit had not changed in features. Though not yet fourteen years of age, she had reached the height of woman, and had a woman's form, although lacking in roundness of outline. And she was so beautiful. I fairly drank in her wondrous beauty, as I had done be- tween three and four years before on the high road to Puttenham. "You don't recognize old friends, Zara," said Paul, smiling. "Have you forgotten Ambrose Fecit?" Her eyes dilated, the blood rushed to her face--a single glance, and she sprang to me impulsively, and grasp- ing both of my hands, carried them to her lips. She recovered herself presently, and seeing the scandalized look of the lady principal, said, with the slightest amount of foreign accent in her speech: "It is my good adopted brother, Madame; and my dear uncle loved him so much." "Come, Mr. Baghy,', said the Duke, "we will leave these youngsters to talk awhile. They havn't seen each other for so long, that an hour will be little enough for their conversation. Miss Myrtle, I have heard much in praise of the perfect arrangement of this in- stitution. Will you honor me by tak- ing my arm, and accompany us over the house and grounds?" Miss Myrtle was only too much de- lighted to oblige his grace, and so Zara and myself were left together. It was delightful to sit there and listen to the dear child, as with her dark, lustrous eyes beaming with plea- sure, she told me the simple story of her life from the time we parted until then. I returned this with much of what had happened to me, and there we both chatted with full hearts-both children of mystery-both feathers blown hither and thither by the brseze, ignorant of our origin, and uncertain of the future. What a dear memory that hour is even now I We could scarcely believe our hour had passed when the Duke and Miss Myrtle, fol- lowed by Paul, returned. "Now, Zara," said his grace, "I have made arrangements with Miss Myrtle, by which Ambrose will spend an hour with you bn every Saturday afternoon; and you must continue to be a good girl as Miss Myrtle says you have been hitherto." "She is very docile, your grace, and all her teachers and school-mates are delighted with her. I hope, the Count, her father, is well." The Duke bowed to avoid an answer, and Zara's lip quivered. She knew, then, of her uncle's disappearance. As we retired, Zara and I were some- what in the rear of the others-Miss Myrtle relaxing her dignity so far in favor of a duke as to attend his grace to the door-and I bent over and ki;s- ed Zara on the forehead. She drew down my head gently, pressed her lips to my cheek, and then, frightened at her own temerity, glided blushingly away. Miss Myrtle was horrified to find that Miss Espinel had gone in without bidding her noble guardian a respect- ful farewell. The Duke undertook to set us down at the studio. On our way there, he said to me: "Mr. Fecit, you must really aban- don your tr-- business for the pre- sent." "How shall I live, your grace, with- out a mortifying sense of dependence on others?" "That is easily arranged, sir, with- out the necessity of your incurring any obligation. I have at present no secretary. It is the situation of a gen- tleman. We shall not disagree about the amount of salary attached. Will you accept the position?" Young as I was I had the power of prompt decision, but the proffer was one'I could not well refuse; so I an. swered: "I think I understand your grace. I accept your kindness gratefully, and shall not forget the obligation." I was soon installed as his grace's secretary. It was merely a delicate way of providing for my support. The Duke had very little correspondence, was not in public life beyond his du- ties as a peer of the realm, and lived retired from the busy world. His finan- cial affairs were under his steward's supervision, and I had next to nothing to do. The greater part of my time- was spent with Paul Baghy, in whose charge my papers and trinkets remain- ed, with the exception of hours de- voted to my favorite study, and the pleasant ones passed with Zara on the afternoon of each Saturday. \L page: 76-77[View Page 76-77] CBAPTER XV. Introducing a new acquaintance and more mys- tery. In despite of the privacy of life sought by the Duke, his grace had nu- merous visitors. While I was nomi- nally acting as secretary, although my years and station gave me no intimacy with these, yet the contact with so many of high rank and position was likely to be useful. Paul pointed out to me the chance that this speaking acquaintanceship with distinguished personages might turn to account at some time. I did not build on that, but I felt that the casual conversations I held with these men, all of them well- bred, and the insensible example of their manner, served to give me great- er personal confidence, and ease of de- meanor. My intimacies ran in another way. Among Paul's many acquaint- ances I found some who, without being entirely congenial, attracted me. These were artists and literary men half way up the ladder of reputation-men who had undergone a deal of privation on the road to distinction, and who had a certain gay and almost reckless man- ner which amused me exceedingly Now and then some of them seemed to remember that they had a body to care for in this world, and even a soul to care for in the world to come; but the majority lived for to-day solely, taking good and ill-fortune with philsophical indifference. Paul, at first, was rather uneasy at my taking so kindly to these roistering fellows; but he possibly re- flected that 1 had no inclination to se- mi-vagabondism, that I drank but spar- ingly, and had the habits of quiet life, for he soon ceased to trouble me with advice about my companionship. One afternoon I had been dawdling about the studios of several artists, and wound up by a visit to Paul's apartments. The first thing that I no- ticed there was a sketch in oil, which I knew was not in Paul's style. It re- presented a scene in an eastern court, showing the audience given by the ruler. So far there was nothing strik- ing about the composition. But what was surprising was the fact that the face and costume of the vizier beside the throne was unmistakably that of the Baganda Jawa, having even the very pose of the figure in the portrait at Landy's Castle. "Wonder away, old fellow!" said Paul, as he caught my eye, "you can't possibly wonder more than I do." "But where did you get it, and what does it mean?" "I'll tell you where I got it. I re- ceived a note yesterday from a Ger- man artist, named Diemer. I never heard of the man before. He said that he was a stranger here, and in distress; that he knew me by reputa- tion, and thought if I would call that I could render him a service with little inconvenience to myself. Well, I went. He has miserable lodgings enough in a house over in Milton street, up three pair back. I found him in bed. He said that he was subject to sudden at- tacks of paralysis of the lower limbs, accompanied by neuralgia in the face. He had been taken off his pins the week before, but expected the disease would pass off in a day or so. He had come to England from Dusseldorf, hop- ing to find sale for his pictures, of which he had two comyleted, together with the studies for several more. The pictures were not much-a little cle- ver, perhaps-both bearing the Dus- seldorf stamp, and both in entirely different styles of treatment. This sketch struck me more than the pic- tures. He says it is a mere fancy pic- ture, but I don't believe it. I borrow- ed it to show you. I tried to pump him, but failed. And now you've had the whole story." ' I should like to see him." "So you shall. I am going to re- turn the sketch, and you can accom- pany me. You must wait awhile, how- ever, as he prefers to receive visitors at night it seems." At night-fall we started. The Ger- man was found in a chair, into which he told us he had been helped, and was seated before an easel, on which was an unfinished picture, with the paint dry, as though no one had worked on it recently. I did not notice that particularly then, but I recalled the fact afterward. The artist himself made a rather queer picture. His face and jaws were muf- fled up in cloths, to sustain the ano- dyne applications, as he told us, that were necessary in his case. From these his hair escaped in one or two places, but all the features of his face that were visible were his eyes, his beard and heavy moustache, and a huge, red nose. The face, or what lit- tle we could see of it, was strange; but the eyes seemed wondrous fami- liar, though I could not tell where I had seen them before. I addressed the man in German, but he spoke a kind of patois; very diffi- cult to make out. His English I could understand better, so we used that. Our conversation turned upon the strange similarity between the face of the vizeer in the sketch and mine. He told me so often that this similarity was entirely accidental, that I felt quite sure it was not. I offered to buy the sketch, but he replied that it was a study-the base of a picture in which other figures would be introduced to complete the story. Hence it was not for sale. I asked him the locality intended. He hesitated, looked at the sketch, which we had brought back with us, and said, "Persia." "You'll have to alter the costume, then," I remarked. "The dresses are Javanese." "Do you think so?" he inquired. "I am sure of it," I said; "you will find them in the quarto book of plates appended to Sir Stamford Raffles's book on Java." He made no answer to this, and af- ter a little more conversation we left. As we were going he specially invited me to come speedily again, which I promised to do. "How did you learn, about the cos- tume?" asked Paul, as we were going homeward. "By inspection. The book I cited is in the Duke's library." "What do you think of my Ger- man?" "I don't know what to think; but I intend to visit him. Perhaps he may drop something at some time or other." "Do you know, Ambrose," resumed Paul, after we had walked some dis- tance further in silence, "I think I have seen this Herr Diemer somewhere before." "I have seen his eyes," I rejoined, "though I can't tell where. I intend to find out." And so I did, but not in a hurry, nor in the way I expected. I could learn page: 78-79[View Page 78-79] nothing at my various visits, for I call- ed on him frequently during evenings, but I patiently waited. I noticed one thing more, namely, that though the palsy went off, the neuralgia remain- ed, for the head of Herr Diemer was kept muffled, and some kind of tincture freely applied. One evening when I called I found him in bed. He told me that he had just experienced another attack of pal- sy in the legs, and 9 ked me to re- main awhile. I had gotten to be quite familiar with him, but on that night I found him even more communicative than usual. I drew him on, and at length brought up the subject of the sketch. "I can tell you now," said he, "where I must have caught the face so like yours. There, hand me down the bot- tle of Rhine wine from yonder cup- board, and a couple of glasses. Do you ever drink Rhenish?" "Rarely," I answered. "It is good for the health. Try it." I sipped it, and told him that it had a peculiar flavor which I did not like. "It will change when you drink the first glass," he said. I drank a glass as he desired, but it seemed to me as though the taste grew stronger at every mouthful. He went on, meanwhile, to tell me how he had been in England some years before, and while in the southwestern part had visited the various show-places, among the rest, Landys Castle. The narra- tive, though tedious, and full of digres- sions, was interesting, because I was trying to detect where the falsehood lay; but I felt all the while a drowsi- ness stealing over me. "The wine has affected you," he said. "It is headier than it seems, but it will pass away." It did not, however. I grew drow- sier every moment. "I can remedy that," said he. "Pray hand me that bottle and sponge from the table. It contains ammonia and other things that I use to clear the head in such cases." He poured out a liquid, with a pecu- liar, penetrating odor, on the sponge, and loosely folded it in a napkin. "There," said he, "let me hold that to your nostrils. Draw it in strong a few times." I obeyed him, for I was desirous of getting to the end of his story. I felt my head soothed, but not cleared. I grew more drowsy, and made an inef- fectual attempt to remove the sponge. He held it firmly, and I struggled slightly. As I did so the cover and false nose fell from his face. I recog- nized Osborne, and at the same mo- ment lost both sense and motion. CHAPTER XVI., Which tells of close confinement, a mysteriwus gnawing, and how we all scampered. My return to consciousness showed me that I was lying in bed. There was a dull light around me, which came apparently from a round hole at a short distance. I felt for the edges of the bed. One was clear, the other was bordered by a cold wall. I arose, and stepped on the floor As soon as I could determine the point, I found that I was in a narrow room, and that the hole was in the door, immovable, and apparently fastened from the out- side. I shouted aloud, but received no answer. At length, I heard a num- ber of cries, confused and smothered, with a dull echo, as though they came from a number of apartments opening on a common corridor. I thought it must be all a dream; but a second thought showed that it was real, for in a dream we never doubt whether we are dreaming or not. Where, then, could I be? By the dim light I saw the apart- ment was narrow, high, and arched. The narrow bed on which I had lain was a hard mattress, resting upon a frame, or lattice-work of strips of iron, and let into the wall at the head and foot. There was no other furniture in the place, not even a chair. Back of the bed was a door which would not open. I tugged at it, when it slid, and showed a private closet about two feet square. Though there was no trace of fire-place, furnace, nor flue, the temperature of the apartment was mild. Could it be the cell of a prison? I thought not. There was a grated win- dow high up and beyond my reach, over my bed; but the grating was not made prison-fashion, being merely a piece of ornamental iron-work. I tried again to call the attention of some one, but received no response. I put my hand to my head in thought, and to my surprise -and dismay, disco- vered that my head had been shaved close. In an instant the truth flashed over me. I was in a lunatic asylum. I shuddered, and felt a sickening sensation crawl over me. All the sto- - ries I had read concerning unhappy victims who had been buried in these horrible bastiles, recurred to my mem- ory. I staggered to the bed, yielding to a nervous prostration, and cried like a child-no, not like a child; but with the noiseless, burning, bleeding, ago- nizing tears of a man. Those tears relieved me. My mind grew clearer, and I sat myself down to deliberately shape some plan of ac- tion. I could see no way visible, nor even conjecture any. I drew the coun- terpane over me, and lay there. Sin- gularly enough, it was not long before I fell fast asleep. It must have been near day when I awoke. It was several minutes before I could realize that I was shut up in a cell, a helpless prisoner. The glim- mering light still came through a hole in the door, showing that there must be a light burning all- ight in the cor- ridor, and I looked at it as a sort of comfort. Close by the head of my bed there was,a rat gnawing in the wall. It seemed a singular taste of his, too. I could- hear his teeth working away at the mortar between the bricks. If I could only pick so! But I had noth- ing-not even a rusty nail. Ha I my pocket knife I I felt around. Clothing was on the bed, but not mine. It felt as though made of some coarse cloth. They had stripped me while I was insensible, and left me these instead,. I laughed convulsively at my own folly. Why, of course they would leave their pri- soner no tool, no weapon-they were too wise for that. Still the gnawing went on. How I envied the rat his sharp teeth I Day came at length,the light in the corridor was extinguished, and the sun- light, crawling in through the grating in the upper part of the cell, met and wrestled with the colder rays that crept in at the little hole in the door. I could see the cell very clearly then. page: 80-81[View Page 80-81] It was about six feet by eight; the walls were naked, plastered rough-cast in mortar, and washed with lime. I examined the closet to see if I could communicate with my fellow-prisoners by that way, but the iron drain-pipe ran outwards and downwards, and was set firmly in cement. The rat stopped his gnawing with the approach of light. About an hour after day-break, the light before the round hole was dark- ened, a key turned in a lock, a square portion of the door below the hole was let down, forming a kind of shelf, and a tin can, with a square ingot of bread was placed upon it. A face appeared at the aperture, the features stolid, coarse, and by no means well-favored. "Breakfuss " growled the new- comer. "Pray," said I, " why am I here, and what place is this?" "You're a new man, an' doesn't know the rules," was the reply. "No talkin' of payshins to attendins, nor wisy warsy, which I doesn't mean to explain to you no more. I'm a goin' of my rouns. If the tin's here empty when I comes back, I takes it away. If the wittals is here, why I takes them away. Them's the rules." The face disappeared. I reflected a moment. Now, I had not much appetite under the circum- stances, yet it would be rank folly to starve myself; I might want all my strength. I tried the bread-it was not unpalatable. The tea was liberal- ly qualified with sugar and milk-it was of a fair quality. I ate the one, and drank the other-a meagre break- fast, quality considered, but sufficient in quantity. I laid the tin cup on the shelf, and looked through the aperture. The hall was about six feet wide. As far as I could see, there appeared to be no rooms on the opposite side, and there were certainly no doors there. I put my head through the aperture- the man was returning, and I with- drew it. He came up to take the can. "Sqe here," said he, "keep your head inside, or I'll punch it. It's agin rules." "To punch my head?"I inquired. The man grinned, and closed the aperture. As he locked it, I heard him mutter to himself: "Rum young chap that; werry," I put on the clothes which lay on' the bed-a loose, grey jacket, with strings instead of buttons, and loose, wide trousers-and then sat down. I reflected carefully on the whole affair, and at length came to the conclusion that the best thing to do was to remain quiet, and let events take their course. In fact nothing else could well be done; but men under such circumstances are not always rational in act. I took the common sense view of the case, and acted accordingly. Had I screamed, yelled or raved, it wouldn't have been an unusual thing to have done; but I mastered all impulses of that kind. My first attempt would be to gain a gradual intimacy with my grim jailor. I did not hope much to soften him.- He would scarcely have been placed there if made of penetrable stuff; but I hoped to throw him off his guard, and by that means pick up something as to the place of my detention, and the, object of my imprisonment. I was not without conviction as to who was the author of my confine- roent. That was easy enough., Mr. Osborne was, of course, the Earl's I agent, and as he had been concerned fin putting away Espinel, who might, indeed, be there under the same roof with me, the cause of our imprison- ment was similar. Espinel was evidently the master of some secret highly'dangerous to the Earl of Landys, and his lordship thought me to be privy to it. I as- sumed that his mistake would be dis- covered, and that my release would come at some time, and all I could do meanwhile was to wait. At noon the same face made its ap- pearance; a pan of soup was put on the shelf, and a horn spoon and large slice of bread placed alongside of it. It was not part of the system to starve me, at all events, for the soup was good, and there was enough of it. I kept up my plan of amusing my keeper, and as he was taking away the pan and spoon I said to him, in a mock dramatic style, " remove the ban- quet." He grinned again, but said nothing. Supper was similar to breakfast; but a tin full of water was added, which I retained, understanding it to be for drink during the night, and the remain- der for ablution in the morning. I lay down to sleep that night with a terrible sense of loneliness and wea- riness. About midnight I awakened, and felt no more disposition to sleep. The rat had resumed his work at my bed-head. I lay and listened to him, or got up and paced the narrow limits of my cell, and thus the dreary night passed away. The solitude and want of occupation threatened to make me really mad. So on the third day I asked the attendant, as he brought my dinner, if I could have a book. "Talkin' to attendins is agin the rules," he answered. "Oh, very well," said I. "All right; but if anybody calls, send up their cards." He grinned as usual, and left. So then I was to be buried alive there; no companionship, no books, no relief. I sat on the bed-side and thought of my early days; of honest old John Guttenberg and his wife, of Mary, of my schoolmates, of the heaths and fields on the outskirts of Putten- ham, and of my meeting with Espinel and Za ZaraZara at the thought of her, and the pleasant life I had led for a short while before, my tears flowed again. Those tears seemed to save me from frenzy. There were two spiders, rivals in trade, who had established fly-traps far up in the cell, in opposite corners. I watched them curiously, and specu- lated as to what kept them awake at that season, and alive at any time, for the place was too gloomy for flies. Then I got in the habit of dozing by day, and lying awake at night, wait- ing for the rat to begin. There was companionship in him: 'About mid- night he would commence work, and keep on indefatigably until day-break. He was an industrious rodent. I tried to make a calculation how long it would be, admitting that he wore off the thousandth part of an inch from his teeth' every night, before he would get them even with his jaw, and so perish miserably.. Then I should lose the companionship of his'labor, and have neither company nor amusement. I grew very anxious to see that rat. About six weeks had passed away in the same monotonous round. Once a week, however, my attendant thrust page: 82-83[View Page 82-83] a brush and narrow dust-pan through the square aperture, just after break- fast, with the words: "Sweep your room 1" That was a great luxury. I used to protract the operation as much as pos- sible. The day after the sweeping, the coarse bed linen was changed. I made my bed, as the door never opened. About six weeks had passed, as I said, when I thought I had secured a sufficient amount of my jailor's good will by my forced fun, to get him to listen to me. So when he came that day to remove my dinner dish, I whis- pered: "The Duke of Sellinghourne would give a hundred pounds to find where I am." The man chuckled, and before he closed the aperture, put his thumb to his nose, and waved his fingers in a derisive motion, classic through age, but not picturesque. I thought the bait might still be swallowed; but when one, two, three, four weeks had gone, and he did not in any way al- lude to the offer, I began to despair. At length,one night it struck me that my rat had nearly gnawed his way through, the sound of his teeth grow- ing plainer and plainer. I listened, and heard sHall pieces of the plaster falling to the floor. I leaned over the bed and tried to peer underneath, but the light from the corridor was too dim. Suddenly the truth flashed upon me. Some one from the next cell was breaking into mine. I was startled. This might be a real maniac, desperate and dangerous. Should I cry out? It might be a fel- low-prisoner trying to escape. And yet what folly, merely to get from one dungeon into the next. I determined to wait and watch. The loosened bricks were cautiously removed. Some one was coming through. I bent over and grasped the intruder by the shoulder, saying: "Who are you? What do you want?" The only reply was a despairing groan. I spoke again. "Tell me who you are. I am im- mured in this cell. Are you a prisoner too?" A hoarse whisper answered me: "Yes. Santa MariaI is there ano- ther cell yet?" "Come through," I whispered, for I thought I recognized the voice. The man crawled in, and we were presently standing together on the floor of the cell. "Who are you?" he whispered. "Ambrose Fecit." "Cosa rara! Caspita I I am Espi- nel." We hurriedly consulted together. He had been under the hope that the one left was the last cell on the range, and had worked through his own and the others succeeding, which happened to be vacant, by means of a strip of iron which he had detached from his bedstead. He had been at work for over four months; but a part of the time his labor had been interrupted by the tenancy of an intermediate apart- ment. He thought, if mine were the last cell, we could get through in four to six weeks more. "But why," I inquired, "did you not try the outer wall, the back part of the cell?" "Because I know the plan of the building. It is an oblong quadrangle, the cells backing on a garden well- hole, from which there would be no escape There is a corirdor completely around, and we can get into it at the end without attracting observation. Then we must fight, if necessary." I was too impatient to wait for this slow burrowing, and struck on a bold- er plan. "Do they ever open the cell doors?" I asked. "I think not," he answered, "unless you are sick. I was unwell the week after I came here, and the doctor, the keeper of the place, I think, came and prescribed for me. That was the only time my cell has been opened." "We might seize him, and force our way." "No! he is always armed, and they are continually on the watch." "Armed I so much the better. With his arms we can fight our way out." "But how to take them." "I will be sick to-morrow. Watch, and when the attendant goes to bring the doctor, arrange your bed clothes so that a passing glance would make any one think you were lying there, remove the bricks and come to me at once." "And then?" "And then I will show you on the instant what to do., Now go, and re- place the bricks carefully." He left, and I quietly went to bed, where I lay awake, quietly maturing my plan, and leaving it to be modified by circumstances. I fell asleep at length, but woke at day-light. I did not go to the grate when the attendant came, but lay under the co. vers with my clothes on, tossing and moaning as though in great pain. "Sick?" inquired he. I muttered that I was dying-a doo- tor. He removed the victuals, and I heard him hurry off. In a couple of minutes Espinel was in my cell. It was the first time that I had seen him since our imprisonment by day-light, and a very bearded savage he was, to be sure. The door of the cell was not in the centre, but a little to. the right. I placed Espinel on the side next its hinges, close against the wall, and crouched down. Presently, some one came to the door, and H resumed my tossing and moaning. I heard the at- tendant say: "Shall I wait, sir?" The face of the doctor placed itself at the hole. "No," said a strange voice, "I shan't want you, Bill. If I do I'll call. Go on with your rounds." As he opened the door I rolled in a fresh,paroxysm of simulated agony, so as to draw his gaze on me. He came' forward to the bed, and said, sharply: "Now, then, Number Twenty-eight, what appears to be the matter with you?" The answer was given in a startling way. Espinel leaped upon him like a tiger, and clasped his throat so tightly that not only could he not cry out, but was in imminent danger of strangula- tion. His face began to blacken, his tongue protruded, his eyes seemed bursting from their sockets, and his arms made convulsive efforts to free himself from that fearful grasp. I -passed my hands over his person. There were a pair of small pistols in his skirt-pockets, and a short club, like a constable's mace, in his bosom. As I secured these, he fainted. We saw that he was not dead. Espinel re- page: 84-85[View Page 84-85] leased his throat. We gagged him with a rude contrivance made of the piece of broken iron brought by Espi- nel, and his own cravat; and hastily tying his hands and feet with strips torn from the sheets, we threw him on the bed, and covered him with the counterpane. I then went to the door and peered out. The attendant was delivering food at the cell doors. I imitated the doctor's peremptory tone as near as I could, and called out: "Bill." He came at the summons. As he neared us I handed a pistol and the club to Espinel, and with the other pistol cocked stood waiting. As Bill came, I sprang out, and my left hand was on his collar, and my right had the re- maining pistol at his head in an in- stant. He was too much petrified by terror, which intensified at the sight of Espi- nel, to make any attempt at escape. "Silence!"I said sternly, "if you value your life. You know what this pistol holds; it is cocked, and my fin- ger on the trigger. A cry, a motion more than I bid you to make, and I spatter the floor with your brains. We will not be retaken alive. You must lead us out by the shortest and safest way. Attempt to betray us, and Ikill you on the spot. Now, lead us out." "I hadn't the keys of the private doors, sir; the doctor has 'em," he re- plied, trembling. "Espinel, get them." The Spaniard re-entered the cell to rifle the doctor's pockets, and soon re- entered with the keys. "Now," said I, "quickly and silent- ly." With one hand on the collar of his coat, and the other grasping the pis- tol, I followed him down stairs to a private entrance, with a double door. Espinel opened these, and by my direc- tion, closed and locked them after him. -It was well to take this precaution, for no sooner had we done so than a thun- dering upon them from the inside showed we were pursued. We emerged on a back street, and led our man to a corner where we dismissed him. He needed no advice to hurry off. We were now in a crowded thoroughfare, where our strange, wild figures, no less than our dress, drew a mob around us. Fortunately a policeman was near, and came up. We surrendered ourselves to his custody, and desired to be transferred to Bow street. It was not long before we were safe un- der the guardianship of the magis- trates. Our story was soon told. Police- men were at once sent to the asylum, and messengers despatched to seek the Duke, the Spanish minister, and Paul Baghy. The former came back to report that the doctor had escaped, but that the attendants were in custo- dy. No direct charge was made against them-they were mere hire- lings-but they were held to testify. The messengers from our friends re- turned, followed by Paul Baghy, and an attache of the Spanish legation. These identified us at once. Our pa- role was taken to send sureties for our appearance against the doctor, if he were apprehended; a coach was pro- cured; and we were driven, amid the parting cheers of the crowd, to the Duke's house. CHAPTER XVII. Wheeien, after a debate held by all parties con- cerned, 1 takeflight again. We were soon re-clad, and otherwise rendered fit for decent society. How pleasant the street looked from the window of the chamber 1 How deli- cious was the disorder that followed I Commend me to confinement as a pre- paratory course to the pleasures of freedom. It was not long before the Duke, who was at the House 'of Peers when our message came, arrived to welcome us, and congratulate us on our escape. A consultation followed about the course proper for us to pursue under the cir- cumstances, and at this none were pre- sent beside the Duke, Espinel, Paul and myself. "Of course," said the Duke, "we must avoid the prosecution of Dr. Leeds, since that /would produce an unpleasant scandal." Dr. Leeds, it appeared, was the name of the person in whose private asylum we had been confined, and whom' we had so unceremoniously put to bed in dayl ht. fC course," echoed Paul and the Cou "Sureties can be sent, as Ambrose a the Count have promised; but if the doctor is apprehended, he can pay te forfeited recognizances, and that will dispose of the matter." "It is the only mode," agreed Bag- by. "Excuse me, your grace," I said, I "but I see no reason why the matter should stop so. I cannot so easilyfor- r get my loss of liberty, and the person- al indignity I encountered. The Count c may exhibit forbearance if he chooses; I I find no fault with him for that; but I prefer to act differently." "But, don't you see that you may strike at some one behind him-the Earl of Landys, probably," suggested the Duke. "That is precisely what I most de- sire. I care less to break the tool than to paralyze the hand that wields it. The disgrace and punishment of the Earl is what I intend; and I fancy, if I cin bring it home to him, a British jury, or his peers, if he avail. himself of his privilege, will punish him and his co-conspirator, though he were twenty times an Earl. I will be satis- fied with no civil suit. Your grace 'seems impatient. Can you give me any reasons why I should forbear?". "I can give you one which I hope may have some influence over you- the Earl is my kinsman. It is a pity that such is the case, for he is a scoun- drel but it is so. His disgrace would attach itself to me. He is the next heir to the dukedom and its estate, which is entailed. As I have no male children, he will necessarily succeed me. It would be to me the most ter- rible of calamities if our house, unti' my time, at least, so glorious in the an- nals of the realm, should have its es- cutcheon tarnished. I have not much claim on your regard, Mr. Fecit; will you let me urge your silence as an act of kindness?" "My lord duke," I answered, "I feel under obligations to you, and if it were this kidnapping alone, I might smother my resentment. You do not know all. That scoundrel-for your grace has rightly named him-endeavored to fix the brand of felony on me ; and it was only by accident, perhaps I should say by the kind favor of an overruling page: 86-87[View Page 86-87] power, that I was enabled to avert un- merited shame." "I do not understand you." I told the story of the snuff-box. His grace shook his head. "The man is worse than 1 thought him," he said ;i," much worse; but das- tardly as his conduct has been, it will never do to make it public." But my resentment was too bitter to allow me to have the affair hushed up. "Allow me," said Paul, "to talk to Ambrose apart." He took me to a recess, and conti- nued: "Do you believe me when I pledge my honor to the truth of a statement?" "Implicitly." "Do you regard little Zara much?" "Much I I love the child dearly." "And to spare her pain you would sacrifice something?" "Something I almost everything." "Listen, then. Circumstances which we cannot show you now, are such that you cannot strike a blow at Lord Lan- dys without injuring Zara very much. Now, will you go on, or not?" "Are you sure of this?" "Positively and absolutely sure." "I have changed my mind," I said, coming forward. "I shall be guided by your joint advice in this matter." "I am your debtor, then," said Es- pinel. ,- "And I," said the Duke. "And now about yourself. I saw the Earl in the house to-day. He will soon hear of this affair. In spite of my pains to hush it up, some account of 'the escape will get into the journals; or if not, Dr. Leeds has appealed, or will appeal, to his partner for safety. The Earl is rather desperate, and for some un- known cause seems to have taken a personal dislike to you. You are not safe here, and I think you had better leave the country and go to Francefor awhile. As your journiy is for my advantage as well as yours, you must permit me to defray your expenses abroad." "Allow me to say that the continent is too near England," said Espinel. "America?" suggested Paul. "The very place," replied the Duke. I was annoyed at this summary dis- position of my movements, and spoke up sharply. "You will excuse mei but I see no reason why I should leave at all. Now that I know I am subject to be way. laid, I shall be prepared to defend my- self against both kidnapping and as- sassination." "The same reasons," said Paul, "which I gave you a few moments since will apply here." 1 gave in finally. "But," I said, "I believe I have means enough at my command without troubling your grace. -I have a letter from a friend to his bankers in London. I believe it is a letter of credit, and I prefer being under obligation to him." "Od Sharp?" inquired Paul. I nodded assent. "There is another mystery about Ambrose," gaily said Paul, " which is more puzzling than all the rest. There is a mall-no, a walking money-ba-- in Puttenham; a miser so mean that he would go-down on his knees in the mire to pick up a crooked pin without a head; and over this man Ambrose exercises a singular control." "You are mistaken," I retorted. "He would have sense enough to balance the impending wear and tear of the knees of his trousers against the value of the headless pin, and keep erect. That he is not the miser you and others think him, this shows-he pressed mo- ney on me for my journey to London, and when I refused it, insisted on my taking a letter to his bankers, to be used whenever I had occasion." '"For ten pounds, I suppose," said Paul. "Well," said the Duke, "if the amount it obtains you be not amply sufficient, you must put me under obli- gations by permitting me to furnish the rest." "I promise your grace to do so; but you must not be misled in your esti- mate of Mr. Sharp. He is a singular being, I admit, but a different man, and a far more liberal man than Mr. Baghy believes." "Oh, I believe anything," cried Paul, laughing. "After the way in which you seem to manage him, I can doubt no more." It was settled that I was to call on Zara the next day to bid her farewell, and as Paul was well acquainted with the junior partner of the house to which Sharp's letter was directed, he was to go with me first to make them sure I was really the Ambrose Fecit named. It was further settled that I was to sail in the first vessel that left for the United States, and that abroad I should take the same name to which my letters from Puttenham had been directed-Mr. Andrew Brooks. That night I read the letters that had come for me during my absence- one from Captain Berkely-the other from Sharp. The Captain detailed the alarm and annoyance of the Guttenbergs at my departure. Mr. Guttenberg found my absence to be a serious disadvantage to his business, was sorry that he had spoken so harshly to me, and was wil- ling that I should come back on my own terms. Mrs. Guttenberg mourned me very much, and feared that some- thing would happen to the poor boy. The Earl had gone to London to at- tend Parliament, and, as I had pre- dicted, Osborne had come back to the Castle. Sharp's letter was principally filled with good advice about money mat- ters. He presumed I was doing well, as I had not been to his bankers; but advised me if I could see an opportu- nity to buy half or third of a well-es- tablished printing business to do so, but to be careful and investigate its value and stability first. "Be not too ambitious," said the let- ter. "Creep before you fly. Little. strokes fell great oaks. A concern of which a thousand pounds will get half is enough for a start. Prudence and economy, with the other half of your capital in reserve, will build you up a fortune. Dress well--it is economy for a tradesman to dress well. By that, I mean to dress in the best of' materials, plainly made, not in the height of the mode, as young men are apt to do, but enough like others not to be singular. This looks as though you were thriving, and looks are a great deal. And always brush, your coat well when you take it off, and put it away carefully. The bristles injure the texture less than (dust." And so the letter went on, much to my amusement. He wrote as though I had capital. He might as well have cautioned me against buying the Pitt diamond, as not to expend more than a thousand pouh'ds in business, As I could not suspect him of jeering page: 88-89[View Page 88-89] me, I concluded his mind wandered oc- casionally. The next morning Paul and I were driven into the city. We entered the house of Lent & Co., bankers, to whom I was properly introduced. After glancing at my letter, the junior part- ner broke the seal, and reading it, said: "I hope you will keep your account with us, sir. Shall we place it to your credit, or will you draw?" I was astonished, and asked to see the letter. It contained a check, drawn to my order, for two thousand pounds, and a few words saying that any fa- vors I might need to the like amount, in the course of business, might be placed, from time to time, to the writer's account. The money was so much more than I ever dreamed of possess- ing, that I half hesitated, but finally took it in the shape of a draft upon a New York banker. On my way to see Zara, Paul was full of this affair, which astonished 'him, and declared that either Sharp was John Howard re-born, or that I was undoubtedly the Emperor of Chi- na, and Sharp my Chancellor of the lExchequer. Zara, from whom her uncle had part- ed but a short while before, was de- lighted to see me, and cried over my approaching departure. I consoled her as well as I could, though I felt like crying myself, and so we parted for a long separation. On my return home I found that the Duke had sent a dispatch to engage me a passage under the name of An- drew Brooks, in the good ship Mary Perkins, an American liner that was to sail from Liverpool in four days' time. I bade the Duke farewell, and hurried down with Paul, after having provided myself a hasty, though com- plete outfit. On our arrival there, Paul found his friend and patron, Mr. Archbold, among the passengers, and introduced me to him not only by my traveling name, but confidentially by my own. The manner of the Ameri- can pleased me very much, and I could see that he was fond of Paul, and would take to me warmly on his account. My voyage promised, therefore, to be a pleasant one, and though I regretted parting with my friends, yet I was young, the world was before me, I was going to see a strange country, and I parted with Paul with rather an exu- berance of spirits than otherwise. Still, when I saw the shores of old England fade away in the distance there was a lingering sadness, and I thought for a moment mournfully of Zara, and the others I had left behind. CHAPTER XVIII., Which contains a queer story, which the reader had better make a note of. The, early part of our voyage was, I presume, what all sea voyages, at their outset, usually are-namely, a disa- greeable sea-sickness, followed by won- der and dissatisfaction at the vague waste of water on every hand. After the first sensation of novelty and nau- sea had passed, I either spent most of my time on deck, listening to Arch- bold's stories, or in rambling over the vessel pestering the sailors with in- quiries. This grew wearisome, too, and then, to further break the monotony, I took to studying the officers and crew. At night, my thoughts went back to Paul and Zara, and things of the past. The master of the vessel-captain, as every one called him-was named Peabody. He was a slender little man, with a superabundance of light whis- ker around his cheeks and throat, clear, blue eyes, and a pleasant, genial, and open countenance. He had started in sea-faring life on board of a whaling- ship out of New Bedford, and had fought his way up, until, at thirty-two years of age, he had, along with the reputation of being a thorough sea- man, the command of one of the finest of the American packet-ships. He had accumulated a little fortune, which was invested'in two houses in the city of New York. In the smallest of these his wife and children resided-the rent of the other serving for their support during his absence, while the great- er part of his pay was accumu- lating. He had views of a different life, too, for I heard him one day observe in con- versation with Archbold: "Yes, sir, this is to be my last vy'ge. I ain't tired of the sea, which I've lived on about twelve years-out of the last-sixteen; but I want-to be athome more with my family. So I've made up my mind to throw up my command; my owners don't know it, and won't till I return-sell my two houses, and buy a little farm in the Jarsies, some- where in Monmouth or Middlesex, where I can look out on the salt water and sniff the sea-weed; and there I'll raise my own pigs and potatoes. You see I'm kind of used to farming-I was brought up to it between vy'ges, when I was young-used to tend a spell on father's farm when I'd come home from whaling. It'll all come back, sir, with a little practice." Archbold said to me afterwards, re- ferring to this idea, that there was al- ways'an itching among two classes of people to turn farmers, namely, sea- faring men and actors. The shipmas- ters generally did very well, and seem- ed to plow the land as easily as they previously had the ocean; but the ac- tors found their agricultural life too monotonous. Of the first mate, Mr. Lansing, we saw little. He was taken ill on the first day of our voyage out, and so se. verely as to be confined to his berth. The second mate, Van Kline, a native of New York city, was a short, stout man, about forty-five or fifty years old, tanned and grizzled; moody, sullen, and taciturn, but known to be exceed- ingly temperate, and a fair officer. He had followed the sea unremittingly from his boyhood up; but though a good sailor, never rose above the third po- sition in a ship. This had apparently soured him, and though attentive to his duties, his manner made him no fa- vorite with either passengers or crew. There were but five cabin passen- gers, Mr. Archbold, a New Yorker named Rapelje, and his two sons, and myself. The three Rapeljes, pere etfils, were very proud of their Dutch ances- tors-the original emigrant to Ameri. ca, by the bye, had been a worthy tail- or-and were very exclusive and top- loftical. They had made the tour of Europe in three months, traveling post haste from London to Paris, from Paris to Berlin, from Berlin to St. Peters- burg, from St. Petersburg to Vienna, from Vienna to Constantinople, from Constantinople to Rome, from Rome to Gibraltar, and from Gibraltar to Lon- don, having seen everybody, every place, in short, everything worth see- ing all over the world. They kept page: 90-91[View Page 90-91] close to their state rooms during the voyage, except at meals; or if they occasionally emerged to the deck, held no communion with any one but them- selves, which, as they were not a live- ly party, was rather a comfort than otherwise. Archbold was a tall, dark, loosely- jointed, but, nevertheless, rather distin- guished man, about the middle age of life. He belonged to the eastern shore of Virginia-at least he had a large plantation there-and he had a hand- some dwelling-house, I was told, in the town of Richmond; but neither of these localities saw him more than once in two or three years. There seemed to be no rest for the sole of his foot. The man was a citizen of the world. If he had any places particularly his favorites, they were London, Paris, and New York, between which he vi- brated with tolerable regularity. He had been -in the American naval ser- vice but when he had risen to the rank of lieutenant, resigned, ostensibly be- cause promotion was too slow, but really because he had too much money. He was exceedingly good company, full of fun, told a good story well, sung a good song passably, and did not think it beneath his dignity to stroll to the forecastle on a pleasant night, and listen to the tough yarns spun there. He was a great favorite with the sailors, one of whom, Ben Ward, had served on a cruise with him aboard -a United States sloop of war. Of the crew, but one was worthy of particular note, and that was this same Ben Ward. He was an old man- o'-war's man, nearly sixty years of age, but active as most men at thirty; knew his profession well, and was proud of the knowledge, and rather thought he had compromised his dig- nity by entering the merchant service. He took a great fancy to me, taught me the names and uses of the various ropes and spars, and told me very fun. ny stories of his scrapes and adven- tures, all of which would make very agreeable reading, no doubt, if this were the proper place to reel them off. Nothing occurred of note until we were out about four days, when the first mate suddenly died. The cere- mony of a burial at sea has been so often described, that I need not attempt it here, though the scene made a great impression on me. Mr. Archbold, at the captain's request, read the funeral service; the body, sewed up with a piece of kentledge at its feet, in lieu of round shot, was sent overboard, and the next day all appeared to have been forgotten. Van Kline kept the dead man's position on board, and every- thing went on as before. The weather was not so stormy for a couple of days after Lansing's death as it had been, and Archbold and I, during the fifth afternoon, were lean- ing over the quarter chatting, when my companion suddenly said: "Do you know I've been trying to place you, as they say, ever since I saw you? I had seen some one with your cast of features before, and I couldn't tell who it was, or where it was, for the life of me. But now I have it; and it implies quite an odd story too. Shall I tell it?" "By all means," I replied. "I have been told so often that I look like some- body else, that I shall begin to think efter a while my face bears a resem- blance to every tenth man in the world." "f Well, my boy, you can believe it or not, but the man I speak of had a great resemblance to you, though he was a great deal older, and it is not long since I saw him, not over eighteen months." "Where does he live, and who is he?" "He is nobody now, and don't live anywhere, for he is dead; but he was Don Estevan de Cabarrus, one of the wealthiest land-holders and cattle-own- ers in the north of Chihuahua." "A Mexican, eh?" "No, a native of old Spain; but he spent the greater part of his time on his Mexican estates-in fact he had lived there for several years, and was a naturalized citizen. I came over- land from Mazatlan, through Durango, just before going to England, and- well, it is a long story, but it is quite enough that I was there, and the Se- nor de Cabarrus, whom I had met at Cadiz years ago, invited me to remain awhile. I did so. He was a widower, and had two very handsome daughters, one of whom, Juanita, was the belle of that region. The Senor lived en prince. The ranchero was a place of importance, a little town. The hacien- da where he dwelt was the abode of a number of his farm-laborers and herds- men, whose adobe huts made a respect- able-sized village. In the centre was his own mansion. You wouldn't call it much of a mansion, I fancy, seeing it was only one story high, and built of wood, on a stone foundation; but it -was a great house for that quarter of the world. "Don Estevan passed his time in the country, partly in superintending his estate; he had several thousand horses to take care of." "Several thousand!"I interrupted. "Several thousand," repeated Arch- bold, coolly. "You must recollect that there are large prairies in that quar- ter, and that cattle and horses are turned loose in vast numbers, breed rapidly, and when wanted are cap- tured, or driven into great pounds.- A thousand there are about equal to ten here, and cost less to rear. He passed his time in taking care of these, and amused himself in that, philosophical experiments of one kind or other, and reading. He had a large library, and a complete set of philosophical instru- ments, and among others a large elec- trical machine, of London make. Keep your eye on the electrical machine, for there's the nub of the story. "The Indians, Navajoes, and what not, used to come down in that quar- ter, plundering and slaying; but at the time I staid there, they had not honor- ed the place with a visit for years. Consequently, nobody looked for them; but one night, or rather one morning, just before day, about a hundred of the vagabonds dashed in on us. In fact, if it had not been for some of the curs who commenced a furious barking at' their approach, the first tidings of their presence would have been the break- ing in of the doors. We were roused up suddenly, and made as good fight as we could, but they were too many for us, and we were soon prisoners at their mercy. "Senor Estevan fared badly. T was overpowered at the beginning, thrown down and tied. Don Estevan made more resistance, and was beaten down. The Indian was about to finish him- the red rascal's blood was up, you see -when another savage interfered, and saved him partly. The blow fell, and my host was seriously wounded, but page: 92-93[View Page 92-93] the force of the blow being interrupt- ed, did not finish him outright. I was not a little astonished, when this new- comer spoke to me in very good Span- ish, and said: "'Keep yourselves still, and I will manage to save your lives.' "I could not do anything else but keep still, for there I was, pinioned- trussed like a turkey for the spit- and they bundled us all into the libra- ry, while they rummaged the house. There we were, the Don lying wound- ed, the two daughters with their hands tied, sobbing, and expecting to be car- ried off prisoners ; and I, bound hand and foot, waiting patiently the conve- nience of my captors to have my brains knocked out." "You were in a bad way," I ven- tured. "Yes, rather; but not so bad as the Don. For you see, whie' we were ly- ing there, a big, hulking savage, his name, as I learned, in his own lan- guage, meant the Bear, came in and offered some indignity to Juanita. I shouted at him, but he paid no atten- tion to me. The father endeavored, wounded as he was, to defend the girl, and the Indian stabbed him. At that moment the same man who had saved him before entered, and interfered. The Bear and the new-comer jabbered awhile in their own dialect, and it end- ed by the Bear going out very sulkily. The Don had been stabbed in the arm. The friendly savage-at least he was dressed in their costume-made an ex- tempore tourniquet, and stopped the flow of blood, and turning to the girls assured them that they should be pro- tected from farther insult. "'You must all keep as quiet as you can," he said. 'My power over these men depends on their superstition; but the one who has gone out is the chief of the expedition, and hates me. I an Englishman, a captive among these wretches, though nominally one of the tribe. He has gone out threatening to rouse the rest against me, and it will require dexterous management; but I think I can save you, especially as I see the means here.' "He pointed to the electrical ma- chine, and bidding one of the girls to watch the door, loosened me. Ve both set to work to charge the ma- chine, and by the time the Bear got 'back we had filled a couple of Leyden jars, and I was seated quietly in a cor- ner. Are you getting tired?" "No, I am quite interested. Pray go on." "Well, the Indians swarmed in, and gravely seated themselves around the room; on the floor. It was a sort of extempore council, and in spite of the terrors of the occasion, the scene was attractive. The gloomy faces of the savages, streaked with their war paint, peered out of the darkness, for there was but a single lamp lit in the place; and in contrast with their threatening looks, and the alarmed faces of the Don and his daughters, was the calm look of our semi-savage Englishman, as he stood leaning against the frame of the electrical machine." "What a picture for a painter!" "I dare say; but if you had been in the middle of it, you would have seen nothing in it but a band of blood- thirsty savages debating about your fate. You'd have found it too interest- ing to be agreeable. "Presenlty the Bear got up, and spread himself for a speech. I couldn't tell what he said, but as the deaf man said of Prentiss, a famous orator of ours, he went through the motions splendid. He was evidently pitching into our benevolent English friend, whose conduct, seen in an Indian light, had been rather irregular; and from the glances cast from time to time by the dusky warriors, I was very much afraid that the chance of the whites was a poor one. When he sat down there was a general grunt of approval in the council that boded no good. "But the Englishman did not mind it. By Jove I he was as cool as an iceberg. He mounted the insulating stool, and, with the connecting-rod in one hand, he began to make his speech. As he talked Indian of course, I could not tell what he said. At first, I could see that it made no impres- sion; but he wound up with some proposition that evidently startled them. There was a general look of dismay among the party, but they came up to the scratch with the Bear at their head, and I partly found out what the proposition was, and got it all after- wards. "He had been inviting them, if they doubted he was a great magician, to touch his hand, when they would feel their stout hearts tremble, and their frames shake at the stroke of his an- ger. They came toward him with some misgivings; and athis direction joined hands, he taking that of the Bear. I saw what was coming. The jar that he touched was a heavy one, and full charged. The shock was strong enough to bring the Bear and most of his companions to their knees, and as soon as they had recovered from it, they slunk off one by one, leaving the Englishman triumphant." "But who was he?"I asked. "That's more than I certainly know," said Archbold; "he said that the sa- vages called him 'The Great Mystery Man,' but he gave me no English name." "No doubt they thought him a great medicine," I said. "He enlightened me on that point some, in a conversation I had with him aTter. He said that what we translate 'medicine,' should be 'mystery.' The Indians are ignorant and superstitious. Whatever they don't understand they call 'mystery.' He had been taken captive, and would have been put to death, but some feats of legerdemain, something like ordinaryjuggler's tricks, which he had done to amuse one of the squaws, made them think him a pow- erful magician, and they saved his life. Iis last feat eclipsed all the others." "I should have thought, as a civil- ized man, he would not have gone on their expeditions." "He went to save the whites from being carried off, and always succeed- ed, except with the peons' children. He never intended to save them." "Why not?" "Well, he gave a very fair reason. He said they were better off as prison- ers among the savages, if adopted in- to the tribe, than at home; and as to the lack of Christian education, the Christianity of the peons was only a modification of Paganism." "And what else happened?" "The most singular of all. By this time the daylight was on us, and our preserver turned to the Don to look at his wounds. They both appeared to recognize each other at the samre mio ment. Don Estevan said nothing-he looked alarmed; but the Englishman made use of an expression which puz- page: 94-95[View Page 94-95] zled me at the time: He said, half in wonder, and half triumphantly: "So, so I Bugunda Jawa?'V I started as Archbold repeated these words. Was 1 then to find the solu- tion of the mystery, in an' occurrence far out in the wilds of Mexico? "The two men," continued Archbold, "regarded each other silently for awhile, and then the Don said: "'I owe you something, Scnor, and I will pay it better than you think. I am mortally wounded; I am sure of it; but I may last some time yet. Let us two be alone for awhile.! "Well, 1 led out the girls; and go- ing out sent for the nearest surgeon. Before he came, the interview between the-two closed, and the Indians, with the stranger at their head, rode off, driving with them the best of the horses, and carrying all the portable plunder they could. I never saw tne Englishman again, and suppose he is with them yet; though he told me that he intended to escape to civilization when he could do it safely." "And this man whom I resemble- what more of him?" "He died il about three days," an- swered Archbold. "He told me that he had done a very grievous wrong to the other once, under the belief that he was his enemy; but the interview had cleared matters up." "Did he give you any of his own history?" "Yes, a good deal. It appears that he was a Spaniard of good family, the son of a Marquis, in fact a Marquis himself, although he had abandoned the title. When young, his family being poor, he went to the East to seek his fortune. From Manilla, he wan- dered to Java, and found his way to the court of the Susuhunan, or Emperor of Java, at that time at Sura-Kerta, on the Solo river. This prince was rather partial to foreigners who had either birth or parts to recommend them, and Don Estevan, not being troubled with two much conscience, turned Mahum- madan, and finally rose to be the Ra- den Adipati, or chief minister of state. The other came there too, a traveling Englishman of rank, and the two at first were very friendly. But circum- stances occurred which made the min- ister think the Englishman intended to supplant him. So fixed did this im- pression get that the Spaniard hired ruffians to assassinate his pld friend, but the attempt failed." "Pleasant," I said. "Very ; but that is Eastern politics. Their hatred got intensified afterwards, I believe, when the Spaniard had left Java, being a disgraced minister, and he met the Englishman elsewhere. There were some family difficulties, if I understood rightly; but I didn't get the particulars. I've given you all I know." I pondered a good deal on this story, though it appeared to me that I was only getting deeper in a labyrinth of conjecture. I determined, however, to let Paul know it, and wrote a letter to be sent to him either by the first vessel that crossed us, or' on my arrival at New York. CHAPTER XIX., Giving nautical incidents, and an interesting nautical manceuvre, not to be told to the ma- rines. Two nights after Archbold had told me his Mexican adventure, the wind was blowing fresh, and we were scud- ding under close-reefed top-sails, when, as we two were leaning on the bul- warks, looking into the darkness, the captain passed us on his way aft. He paused a moment opposite to us, and said: "If this breeze holds, it won't be many days before we'll sight the Hook, Mr. Archbold; and Sally and the chil- dren 'll sight me." Archbold made some indifferent re- ply about the old barky having a bone in her teeth, or something similar, and the captain passed on. As we stood there talking, we heard a sudden, sharp cry. Archbold knew the sound, and yell- ing out "man overboard," ran aft. I followed, the ship was brought to, the deck was in an uproar, lights flew about, and various articles were toss- ed over for buoys. Van Kline came running toward us, and as I flashed over him the light of a lantern which. I hat taken from one of the men, I no- ticed he was deathly pale. "My God 1" he exclaimed, "it must be the captain. He was aft a few mi- nutes since, and he didn't pass coming back." The night was dalik-it was useless to attempt to lower boats; we listened, but could hear no call. After an hour or so, we resumed our course, the winds singing through the tops the dirge of the dead commander. "Port, hard 1" cried Archbold, sud- denly. The man at the wheel, Ben Ward, mechanically answered, "hard it is, sir; hard!" the vessel changed her course, and just at that moment a white mass sprang out of the darkness, and shot past our starboard quarter. "Ibeg your pardon, Mr. Van Kline," said Archbold, "but it was touch and go." The man overboard proved really to have been the captain. It was a fear- ful accident, for which no one could account, and impressed us all sadly. It seemed to fall on Van Kline with more force than any one else, and he appeared to have been more attached to the captain than we supposed. He grew pale and trembled excessively whenever Peabody's name was men- tioned, and used to pace up and down the deck muttering to himself. I over- heard him once, and the words were: "Overboard 1 drowned!" uttered in the most piteous tone. He took com- mnand, of course, but his habits of life changed. Hitherto remarkable for his sobriety, he now drank to excess. The suddenness of the accident to the cap- tain had so unsettled his nerves that he resorted to the bottle to steady them, and as usual in such cases, used his remedy too freely. Day by day this grew worse, and for the last few days of our voyage, he was scarcely ever sober after dinner time, theduties of command devolving upon the new acting-mate-a very clever young man, in the American sense of the. term, but utterly incapable as a seaman to fill the position. The crew were very much disturbed about this, but the new mate was guided a good deal by Arch- bold, in whom the men, through Ben Ward, had .confidence, and as to sea- manship, we got along very well. It was well, however, the voyage was so near at an end, since there would have been a mutiny else. Van Kline, when sober, that is, during the early part of the day, was so harsh, capricious, and tyrannical, that the men gave audible page: 96-97[View Page 96-97] murmurs of dissatisfaction, and only submitted because of the prospect of an early release. "It is a shame, though, and sing'ler too," said Ben Ward to me, in regard to the new, captain. "Mr. Van Kline never used to drink a drop afore, that any one knowed on, and what's got in- to him, isn't clear, accordin' to my reckonin'. Maybe his unexpected rise has oversot him; but I thought he had more ballast. He 'peared to be stiddy al'ays. There's one thing certain-if he's in a drunken fit when a storm comes up, Sam Perkins aint to be re- lied on, and Mr. Archbold 'll have to turn skipper a spell." No storm, however, did come on; but nevertheless it did so chance that Archbold had to assume command of the ship, and a very narrow escape we had; an escape attributable solely to the Virginian's nautical education. It was rather early in the morning; the breeze was a little fresh, and we were sailing by the wind, with royals in. Mr. Archbold had been keeping reckoning for his own satisfaction, and he made us farther to the north and east than Van Kline did. The conse- quence was that he was uneasy, and had kept a sharp look out. There was a little haziness in the distance, and land was reported, which Van Kline, who was standing aft, not recovered from the previous night's debauch, thought was Sandy Hook. "We're many miles from that," mut- tered Archbold to Ward, who was at the wheel. Van Kline still stood there, with a sodden, imbecile look, and overheard him. He chuckled out his disbelief. The haze lifted a little, and we heard the cry forward: "Breakers on the lee bow." Every one looked at Van Kline, who gave the laugh of a man half silly from the effects of a previous fit of in- toxication, and said: "What fool says that, and we twen- ty miles west of a sandy beach?" We could see the breakers plainly enough, not a dozen lengths from us, apparently, and we bearing down on them; but there stood Van Kline, with an idiotic smile of confidence on his face. The men moved here and there un- easily, and some kicked off their shoes- Archbold sprung to Ward suddenly: "Stand by me, Ben," said he. "Am. brose, look to Van Kline. If he touch- es the wheel, or interferes, floor him." Then raising his voice, he sung out, "All hands ahoy, there!" The men recognized his voice, and replied with a general " ay I ay!" "Man the main clew-garnets and buntlines!" he cried. "Let goa the tack and sheet. Up mainsail!" The men went to work with a will, and the mainsail was taken in. "Jump aft to the spanker brails 1" he continued. "One of you clear away the sheet I Brail up 1" The spanker was taken in in a hur- ry. Archbold turned to Ward: "Put your helm hard-a-lee 1" "Hard-a-lee it is, sir," growled Ward. "Fork's'l there 1" "Sir!" "Man the weather fore clew gar- nets!" "All manned for'd, sir." "Let go all your bowlines forward I Haul up I Lead out the main and cross jack braces I Let go your bowlines, and catch a turn with the lee-braces when the sails shiver., Brace in!" The wind was thus being taken out The wind was thus being taken out of her after sails, and the pressure that was driving her' to leeward was les- sened evidently. "Lead out your head braces, and keep them manned," continued Arch. bold. The sails on the foremast began to flutter from being pointed in the direc- tion of the wind, and the ship was slowly veering round. "Brace up 1" cried he. The head sails began to catch the wind and belly out, and Archbold roar- ed in stentorian tones: "Man the main and cross braces I Brace in I Catch a turn at the square mark. Well that. Belay!" Turning to Ward, he said: "Meet her with the helm. Steady so!" "Steady it is, sir!" growled old Ben. The head sails were now full, and Archbold gave his orders rapidly, the men obeying with confident alacrity. "Lay aft to the braces I Trim the after yards by the fore. Sharp up I Belay every inch Let go your lee- fore-clew-garnet, and man the sheet. Haul aboard 1 Haul aft all the head- sheets I Man the main-tack and sheet! Let go, and overhaul the clew-garnets and buntlines I Haul aboard I Man the spanker sheet 1 Let go the brails! Haul out 1" The ship was now brought on the opposite direction, braced sharp up, with sails set, and leaving the - break- ers astern farther every minute. "Couldn't ha' done it better on old Ironsides," said old Ben to me, confi- dentially. I knew nothing about that; but I saw we had been in some danger, and had escaped from it, and that was quite enough for me. We had, as Archbold had reckoned, got far above Long Island, instead of below it, and came near being wreck- ed, in daylight, and with a fair wind, on the Rhode Island coast. Not car- ing to try the Hell Gate passage, Arch- bold changed our course, turned Long Island, and kept charge until we had come near enough the Hook to take a pilot aboard. Van Kline made all kinds of fierce threats to punish this mutiny of passengers and crew; but no one paid the slightest attention to him, and he went below to drown his grief and insulted dignity in the bot- tle. CHAPTER XX., Which brings me to .New York, where I find employment, and mak3 a new acquaintance. New York has a bewildering effect on a European. Its size is not so great as. that of London; but its bustle and life are scarcely inferior; and the ha- bit of the place, of interminably tearing itself down and building itself up, pre- vents any familiarity. The New York- ers seem like children with their card- houses. So soon as one fabric has been erected, they throw it down and commence building afresh-each suc- ceeding erection being of a more ab- surd and impossible order of architec- ture than the one before. The stranger runs the gauntlet of mortar-beds and sand-heaps, finds temporary bridges over the sidewalks at every step, ad- mires the mixture of the useful and or- namental which garnishes piles of bricks with many-colored placards, and gains great dexterity of move- ment and quickness of eye by dodging page: 98-99[View Page 98-99] falling fragments of brick and stone. Should he leave it on a visit to the provinces, and remain six months, he finds on his return new houses, new streets, and apparently a new popula- tion. New York is among cities what the English tongue is among lan- guages-it is made up of the natives of every part of its own land and of the world at large. At least one- half the population is foreign, and of that half the greater portion comes from the British islands. So I had no difficulty in making the acquiltance of a number of my own countrymen. These were mostly those who had re- sided there for a number of years, and who would probably die there, but who did not think so. There were some peculiarities about these New York Englishmen which struck me as being odd. These oddi- ties arose from their nationality of thought, and its opposition to sur- rounding circumstances-the conflict of sentiment with fact. The Englishman, and American too, I fancy, only leaves his native place with the expectation of returning to it next month, or next year, or possibly when he has accumulated a fortune. The Irishman, or German, leaves his home to find a new world, and leaves it never to return. The Irishman is content with his creature comforts, and his political equality, and at once iden- tifies himself with the natives of the country he has chosen; the German brings fatherland along with him, in the shape of lager bier, singing so- cieties, and impracticable theories of government, and is content. The Eng- lishman cannot carry with him his juicy mutton, and his moist atmos- phere, no more than the American could his oysters and canvass-back ducks, and so sighs for his old comforts. But my new English acquaintances were all married and settled-married chief- ly to the natives of the country-most of them had children who were tho- roughly fast young Americans, look- ing at their fathers as foreigners; they had acquired property, some less and some more; and they had acquired with the last, though profoundly igno- rant of the fact, a grumbling attach- ment to the country. They growled at the usages around them, none of which they would have changed had they the power; and sighed for Lon- don, which, had they once got there, they would have left in a month Though their cry was, "There's no place like old England," the attach ment it implied was theoretical. After I had been in New York some time, I parodied Alexander's declaration about Diogenes, and said, "If I were not an Englishman, I would be an American;" but most of these ridiculing America at the outset, became practically Am- ericans before the end. True, to an American they would disparage the country; but let a newly-come Eng. lishman poke fun at anything around him, and they would fall on him as fe- rociously as the most furious Yankee patriot could desire. Had there been any suspicion in my mind that the Earl would endeavor to reach at me over the Atlantic, I should have kept clear of my countrymen in New York, as one means to baffle dis- covery; but I was well satisfied that the enmity arose solely through my supposed connection with Zara. and Espinel, whom he had some unknown cause to either fear or hate. Hence his desire to get me to India; and were he to discover that I was in the United States, it was probable he would be well contented so long as I remain- ed there. As I did not intend to draw on Sharp's money, if possibly to be avoid- ed, I deposited it in a bank pointed out tome by Archbold, and then, leav- ing my hotel, went to lodgings. I found a third story back room, plainly furnished, at the house of a French- man, a jeweler, for three dollars a week. There I had my own breakfast and supper-the arrangement including hot water and attendance-and I took my dinner at a cheap eating-house in Nassau street, kept by a man named Gosling. I sought for something to do, and after a few weeks was fortu- nate enough to find employment as compositor in the "printing office," as they called it,.of a Sunday newspaper- so called because -dated and sold on the Christian Sabbath, though all the work upon it, except the delivery to the readers, was done before the mid- night of Saturday. There were nine others at work in the office-six regularly, and three on Fridays and Saturdays. As I was what is called a fast workman, and could set nearly one-half as many more " ems" of type per day than any of the others, my only concern was to secure a sufficiency of copy, with as much "fat"-that is, as much blank space in the matter-as possible. My fellow- compositors were mostly agreeable r companions, and with the exception of one of the number, very well-informed, as well as very steady men. They were all Americans, and felt disposed I to have some practical jokes at the ex- m pense of the only foreigner among 1 them; but I took these attempts so t] e good-naturedly, that they soon left it off, voting me "a good fellow." Thus - we got on together without mishap or misunderstanding. I Among the compositors I have said - there was one not so well-informed as I the rest--in fact he knew little more than how to read or write-and yet I grew more intimate with him than with any of the others. He was a chunky" young man, with a great t head of fiery red hair, and was named John McManus. His father was an Irishman, who had settled in the United States about-thirty years before, and there reared a brood of stout young Americans. The elder McAanus had been successful in various street con- tracts, and was in comfortable circum- stances ; butinsisted that his children, when grown, should take care of them- selves. The younger McManus, the only son among seven children, was married, fond of his home and his pretty wife, and an occasional frolic. There was not a particle of sympathy in our tastes, or similarity in our habits, and yet we soon became fast friends. His jovial, off-hand manner and broad jokes, diverted my melan- choly thoughts, and came to be a kind of necessity. During all this time I never saw Archbold. I p*sumed that he was wandering somewhere as usual. I heard occasionally from Paul, but he gave me nothing of importance; and received one letter from Sharp, barren of all details about affairs in Putten- ham. One day, about ten months after I had been in the printing office, and to- ward the latter part of February, Mc- Manus invited me to visit his lodgings that evening. page: 100-101[View Page 100-101] "The old woman," said he, meaning by that term his young wife, " gives a tea-fight to-night, and there will be lots of calico on hand. Do you dance?" "A little," I replied. "You're the man for the crisis,':.he said; " but, nota bena, you'd better oil your shanks, and put a solid inch of injy-rubber on your boot-soles, for some of the girls are terrible dancers, and if you don't take care you'll come away with two short stumps sticking to your body." I promised to use proper precau- tions to prevent the abbreviation of my legs, and taking his address, went home when we were through work, to get ready. He had named seven o'clock, but I thought it better to be late than too early, so I did not start until eight. He lived in Sullivan street, occupying the first floor of a house, the basement of which was used as a corner-gro- cery-that is, a shop where they sell sugar, tea, salted meats, vegetables, coals, beer and whiskey, in short, any thing that can be taken, drank or con- sumed about the household. I forgot the name of the cross street, and it was some time before I could find the place. At length I; observed lights and heard the sound of a piano in the second story of a house over a gro- cer's shop, and on inquiry found it to be the place I sought. I knocked at the door, but no one answered. There were three bell handles, one above the other, at the side of the door, and I pulled the upper one briskly. In a few minutes a young woman came to the door and inquired my business. "You've rung the wrong bell, sir," she said; "Mr. McManus lives in the second story." She sighed as she spoke. I noted by the dim light of the hall lamp that she was pale and care-worn. I thank- ed her for the information, and pro- ceeded to the second floor, and there knocked at the door. McManus him- self answered my rap, appearing ar- rayed in a black frock coat and trou- sers, with a waistcoat of gorgeous pattern, and a green silk neck-tie, studded with golden sprigs, in which his red face and flaming hair reposed like a gigantic peony. He dragged me in with boisterous welcome, and in- troduced me generally to the company and specially to his wife. Mrs. McManus was quite a present- able person indeed-young, handsome, with a self-possessed air, and a style quite different from what I had antici- pated. I have seen many women since, in what are called the upper circles, by no means so distinguished in their appearance, or so faultless in their style, who were considered models of taste and deportment. How she could ever have fancied her rude and bois- terous husband I could not divine-but so we say of many other wives every day. She put me at ease at once, and after a short chat, introduced me to a partner. I stood up in a quadrille, intending to walk through it, but found that I was expected to dance, and that right vigorously. As I had come determined to make myself as agreeable as possi- ble, I fell into the spirit of the affair so earnestly that when the music stop- ped, I was nearly knocked up. I led my partner to a seat, said to her some of the complacent nothings customary on such occasions, and presently re- joined the mistress of the place. McManus himself came up to us, with a moist countenance and humbled shirt collar. "What kept you so late?" he ask- ed, "I had given out that you'd be here, and then I'd given you out." I explained the cause of my delay, and then mentioned my mistake in ringing the wrong bell, and how the girl came from above. "Yes," he said. "That was poor Mely Van Kline. My wife would have asked her here to-night, but I don't think she had a dress fit to wear. I expect they've pawned nearly every- thing they have. By thunder! that Van Kline ought to be hung i" "Don't say that, John, please," in- terrupted his wife. "You forget the poor man is in the asylum." "No I don't. He ought to have been in a worse place long ago." "Who is the father?"I inquired, the name glimmering over my memory. "He was a sea-faring man," answer- ed M'Manus, "the second mate of a liner, and would have been captain only he drank so that the owners dis. charged him. Now he's gone clear crazy, and there's his family suffering. It's a pity for them,.but it's a judgment on him." "Don't talk that way, John, please." "But I will talk that way, Bell, please. It's just what I mean. I went up there the time he had the horrors on him, and he let out enough to make me sure he'd knocked the captain over- board one dark night; and no good come of it, That's what made him a bummer, and served him right." "But a man's crazy fancies, John--" "Are about as apt as anything, Bel- la, to be a crazy man's memories, espe- cially when he's run, crazy. It was his deed preying on him that drove him crazy." "That explains it, then i"I exclaim ed, as I thought of Van Kline's pallid face, on the night I flashed helight upon it. They both looked at me inquiringly. I told them how I was aboard the ves- sel on the night of Captain Peabody's disappearance; and M'Manus plied me with questions which I could not avoid answering. "Well," said Mrs. M'Manus, "Ame- lia is to be pitied." "Yes," admitted John, "I'll own it's a pity for her. Her mother is sick, and she supports her by sewing for the slop-shops-starves her, I guess. They havn't p'aid any rent for some time, and the agent says if the next month isn't ready, he'll turn 'em out." "Oh, Mr. Brooks," said the wife, "don't you want some linen made up, or some work of that kind done? Ame- lia is a capital seamstress-I have seen some of her work-and any em ployment of that kind would be of great assistance to her. It would give her the profit that would other- wise go to the shop-keeper." "Why," said I, "I am not too well supplied, and I will get the materials and send them with the measure to you. You can make the proper bar- gain with her, if you will be kind enough to undertake the commission." Another quadrille was formed, in which-I took part. I passed a very pleasant evening. The guests were hanesth well-meaning working-people, page: 102-103[View Page 102-103] who had met to enjoy themselves, and did it without restraint. I went home late to my lodgings, thinking of the poor girl who was striving to support her mother and herself on a pittance, and the terrible fate of the murderer. I was impressible, and all that night the pallid face and mournful eyes of Amelia Van Kline looked on me through my dreams. The next morning I acted on im- pulse, and enclosing forty dollars, which was the amount of rent that Mrs. M'Manus had said was in arrears, in anenvelope, along with the words- "A loan from a shipmate of your fa- ther," I directed it to Amelia Van Kline. As I feared to trust it to the care of the penny-post, I hired a boy to deliver it at the house. I stood at some distance off, saw it taken from his hand, and after he bad told me that he had given it to " a gal in a brown an' white striped caliker," gave him the promised dime, and went on my way rejoicing. CHAPTER XXI., Wherein I cultivate Amelia's acquaintance, and get a nurse. I was informed by M'Manus, two days after, that Amelia had paid her rent, some unknown friend having sent her the money. He supposed it to come from the owners of some vessel in which Van Kline had formerly sail- ed. I did not undeceive him, and there the matter rested. My life for some months more was a monotonous one, with little to interest or excite me. I went to the office re- gularly each day, received my weekly pay on every Monday morning, and was soon able to replace the amount I had used out of Sharp's two thou- sand pounds. I generally spent my surplus earnings after, that in my old pursuit of acquiring languages, but occasionally went to a concert or a picture-gallery with one of my English friends. I was by no means fond of society, and my intimacies were few. My exile had grown irksome, and I was desirous to terminate it; but Paul, to whom I had written on the subject, ad- vised me to remain for the present where I was. The Earl of Landys still vibrated between his country residence and London; Mr. Osborne lorded it over the castle as usual; no farther attempt had been made against Espi- nel, who had gone to Spain; and Za- ra, who was under the joint guardians ship of the Duke and Paul, always de- sired to be remembered to me, and was growing into a fine woman. The Gut- tenbergs, it appeared, were well and flourishing, and Mary was about to be married to Tom Brown, whose uncle, a London grocer, had left him a smart sum, and who, on the marriage, was to have an interest in the Chronicle. Old Sharp, by all accounts, was about the same, only richer, as the leases of many of his houses had reverted to him, and the rise of property in the suburbs at Puttenhamn had ad4ed im. mensely to his wealth. Capt. Berkely, promoted to a majority, had been order- ed to India shortly after my departure, and had distinguished himself in a dif ficulty with the Affghans, when he was by seniority the commanding officer of a division which had been attacked by the enemy; and Paul himself, as I judged more from the newspap ers he had sent me than by his letters, was growing in reputation as an artist. Once, too, he hinted at his forthcoming marriage, but did not name the lady. Sharp wrote me occasionally, but he gave me no news, confining himself to advice, and minute inquries as to my doings. My friend M'Manus continued all this while to be as boisterous as ever, and did not seem more subdued by an addition to his household, which was made seven months after I first visited his Luse. This came in the form of a youngster whose face gave indications of duplicating the father's, whenever it took a decided outline-a lusty, healthy boy, with vigorous lungs, eyes of great concentration of gaze, whe- ther upon a- stranger or the tip of his own nose, and hair of a tendency to- ward the color of a badly-burned brick. At one of my visits to this fellow and his parents I first met Amelia Van Kline. I felt a strong interest in this girl, though her father was a murderer, and admired the quiet heroism with which she was fighting her way through the world. I saw she was not so hand- some as I thought her when we first met. Her cheek-bones were high,- her skin was inclined to coarseness, and her nostrils were rather too narrow; but she had large, intelligent grey eyes, very small and well-shaped hands; and a good figure. She had a low- toned voice; and an occasional smile relieved the prevailing sadness of ex- pression, and lit up her features plea- 'santly. She was shy of me at first, but I gradually drew her out. I found that she had received little education; but possessed a naturally clear mind; and her conversation, though feminine in expression, was masculine in tone. Some of her remarks were striking, and even epigrammatic. The com- monplace phrase, "she talks like a book," would give some idea of the style of her conversation, and yet she had evidently read few books. She struck me as a very estimable young woinoan, with a deep sense of duty. a kind heart, and a strong regard for real propriety and right, without re- gard for conventional rules. Little as I had been thrown into female society, she made for me an attractive and sin- gular study. As time passed away, and we met more frequently, we grew tolerably in- timate, and sometimes I would take her to a concert, where she would sit with her grey eyes fixed on the musi- cians, and her ears drinking in the sounds greedily. It was a pleasant thing to watch her wrapt and intense enjoyment on such occasions. It was a long time before I knew that she herself had a fine voice, and that she could read music accurately, singing at sight with facility. Mrs. M'Manus, though but an ordinary performer, clothed herself and made her own pock- et money, by giving lessons on the pi- ano; and one evening when Amelia was there brought out a new song, and asked her young friend to try it for her. When she complied I was astsn- ished by the ease of her performance and the quality of her voice. I was not a profound judge, of course, but I could not mistake the fact that dle liad an organ of great compass, flexibility and volume; and I thought it sad that one so gifted should drag along exist- ence in earning with her needle barely enough for the support of her mother and herself. An opportunity occurred for me to serve her in that respect, and I em- braced it. There was a German by the name of page: 104-105[View Page 104-105] Froebel, an organist in one of the fash- ionable up-town churches, with whom I had a dining acquaintance. I had met him at the eating saloon where I took my dinner, and finding that he was a native of Berlin, and a fine scho- lar, took the opportunity of getting him, from time to time, to correct the accent of my. German. In the course of our conversation one day, as we sat at our table together, I observed to him that he seemed to be vexed. "Ach Himmel, yaes I I have trouble, my goot friend. My quire has near kill me. It is go from bad to worse, and now my contralto have- married and gone South, and she un- der contract for one year, which she ought not to do. I can buy contralto all round, very plenty; but I have not the means. The stingy fellows; they allow me two hundred and fifty dollar only for contralt, and expect angel that sing at sight, and have fine voice, for so little money. Ach!" "Is it necessary that she should know the church service thoroughly?" "It is better so. But give me good ,reader of music, and good voice, and I can make all the rest her to know my- self." "I think I can find you a contralto that will suit you." "Can you? You shall have taken much trouble from me. A country- man, musician, came to hear us last Sunday, and he say I have quire of wild beast. Ach t" I mentioned to him Amelia's name and address, sending him to Mrs. Mc- Manus with a note. The German went, was delighted, took Amelia in the choir on trial, and at the end of three weeks she was engaged perma- nently. "Ah, mine friend!" said Froebel, on meeting me afterward, "I was much obliged. That was fine contralto, in- deed I Herrmann shall say now if my quire be wild beast." I used to go to St. Martin's church nearly every Sunday after that, and I am ashamed to say, less on account of the service than the music. Froebel was a capital organist, and understood his profession thoroughly. The choir soon gave evidence that it needed only a capital contralto to balance the voices, and a perfect quartette was the result. I used to sit there and listen to the mu- sic in great delight, and when the ser- vice was over would quietly go home. Sometimes, it is true, I walked home with Amelia, but as a general thing I left her under the guardianship of the tenor, a pale, slender young man, with a remarkably long, tawny impe- rial, which hung from beneath his low- er lip, twisted and particolored, like the string of a tobacco pouch. It was after one of these visits, on a Sunday afternoon, that I felt a certain dizziness in my head as I walked along, so much so that I staggered, and came near falling once or twice. This was accompanied by a violent pain in the head and back. I reached home and went to bed. where I passed an uneasy night. In the morning I found that I had a high fever, and there were little splotches here and there on my skin. It was not long before these assumed a pustular form, when I managed to let the girl know that I wanted a doc- tor. He came, shook his head, and said I must have good attendance. That night, however, I must have gone off in delirium, for I remembered no, more except a faint conversation with somebody, and the taking of some me- dicine, until I found myself in old Sharp's garret inthe town of Putten- ham. Sharp, it seemed to me, was lying on his pallet, as I had seen him the night I watched with him. I thought there were coals in the grate, and that I wanted a piece of paper to light the fire. I looked around. There was a portfolio on the table-I observed its color, shape, and general appearance distinctly. There were. some loose ends of papers peering out at the edges, and I opeued it to see if any of them could be burned. On their top I no- ticed a small packet, soiled and stain- ed. It was directed in Spanish to "el Conde Lan Diez." I was about to open it, when Sharp arose from the bed, and with the words, " wait until I am dead," took it way. I was about to remon- strate, for I felt that this was the pack- et originally delivered to John Gutten- berg, when I felt some one lightly touch my head, I looked up. It was Amelia Van Kline. "Ameliat I said. "Oh, doctor 1" she exclaimed, "he's better. He knows me." I looked around. I was in my own room, which was partially darkened. Amelia was standing over me, and with her was an elderly man in black. "How do you feel?" he asked. "Very well, but rather weak and thirsty. This is Doctor Pascoe?" "Yes." "What is the matter with me?" "You have had the small-pox, but you'll do very well now; but let me caution you to keep your fingers from your face, when it begins to itch, or you'll mark yourself. You have been very well attended, thanks to your friends, and to the care of this young lady." "I am sure I am grateful-and to you also." "Oh, as to me, my attentions have been professional, and need no thanks. Besides, I should take some interest in you, for you are a countryman." "You are an Englishman; may I ask from what part?" "Leeds last; though I practiced once in Puttenham." "Did you? That's my native town." "Indeedl I made the largest fee there I ever received; and a singular case it was, too. Lie quiet; you want a little conversation, and if you will keep still, I'll tell you the circum- stances." "Do so." "It was in a snowy night in 1827, when about ten o'clock in the evening I was getting ready to retire to my bed. A rap came to the door, and I went down myself to answer it. A tall, dark man stood there, wrapped about the shoulders in a fur cape. He had his face muffled up." "In 182--a tall, dark man-fur cape-pray, go on." "Well, the man told me I was want- ed at once to attend a lady, and I pre- pared to go, but he stopped me." "'There's one thing preliminary,' he said. 'At a certain street you must be blindfolded, and let me lead you to your patient.' "' Fiddlebticks I' was my reply. ' I shall do no such thing.' "'You will,' he continued. 'To show you that no harm is intended, here are thirty sovereigns. Examine them, leave them behind you. There are reasons why this matter should be page: 106-107[View Page 106-107] private. Time presses; accept or re- ject my offer.' "I reflected a moment. It was the outset of my practice. The sum, to me, was enormous just then. I had no enemies that I knew of. "'Can I arm myself?' I asked. "' To the teeth, if you desire it.' "'Well,' said I, ' I will go, and with- out arms.' "And go I did. I was blindfolded, at the point agreed on, and led what I supposed was a circuitous route, taken up crazy old stairs into a half-darkened room, where I found a lady in bed, with a female attendant. I soon dis- covered that the lady was in danger, and that I could not save her. The end of the story is, that a fine male child was born, and the mother died. I was blindfolded, led down the stairs, and to the spot where I was blind- folded at first; the bandage was re- moved, and my conductor disappeared. And that, I assure you, was the largest fee I ever received." "Did you ever see the man again?" "Never. I think I would know him again, though, for I saw his face very plainly for a moment. But I'll leave you now to take a nap; be careful about scratching your face, and you'll do very well." And the doctor, accompanied by Amelia, left. I lay awake for a long while. Sin- gular, I thought, that three thousand miles from the spot where it occurred, I should find a witness of my birth. And yet what could that matter? The fact availed nothing. Looking at it in its most favorable light, it did not seem to throw a ray of light upon the affair. The mystery was deeper than before. CHAPTER XXII. Containing divers matters, and ending with a live ghost. It was not long before I was able to leave my chamber, but the disease, which left no marks beyond a light pit upon one cheek, was succeeded by languor and lassitude, which kept me from doing anything for several weeks. Slowly and by degrees I recovered my strength, and was able to walk to the printing-office and back; but the fa- tigue of standing at the case was still too much for me, and I was only able to make half my usual day's work. I was told by M'Manus all that had occurred during my illness. The dis- ease, in my case, had assumed great virulence, but the doctor thought I might recover with careful nursing. The landlady, fearful that her lodgers might take alarm and leave the house, kept the nature of my sickness a se- cret from even the servant girls, and sent her husband to M'Manus, whom she knew by sight, to come and see her. She explained to him the case, and the difficulty which she expe- rienced of finding a proper ,nurse. M'Manus mentioned this at home, and Amelia, being his wife's next friend, was informed of the matter. She vo- lunteered to assist, M'Manus and some of the compositors agreeing to take turns at night. Mac, as we called him, had no misgivings about the dis ease, which he had suffered; but his wife, from a prudent regard for the younger Mac, trundled herself and the baby to her sister's, over in New Jer- sey, and remained there until after I had recovered. I was well attended among them all, and the doctor said that the careful nursing was of great service. When able to visit her, I called at M'Manus's apartments, and saw Ame- lia-for it must be known I had never visited her in her own rooms, her mo- ther being an invalid, to whom a sttan- ger's presence was irksome. I ex- pressed my grateful sense of her kind- ness. "You owe me no thanks," she said. "I owe you too much still; not only the situation which has enabled me to keep my poor mother from want, but-a loan which you must let me repay you before long." How had she discovered the last? I looked my astonishment, and she re- plied to it. "Some loose papers lay in your room," she said, "and as Mrs. Lemai- tre and I were putting them to rights, I recognized the handwriting. I saw then that it was toyou I was indebted for the loan of the money. Ah I if you could know from what a gulf of horror and despair your kindness saved me I Everything that we could spare, and' much that we could not, had been sold or pledged, and we had no prospect but starvation or the alms house. I had kept up my courage till then; but when the agent threatened to turn us in-the street, I was on the verge of madness. That money saved the lives of two. My mother would not have long lived after the humiliation of pub- lic relief, and I was in that state of mind that I could not have long sur- vived her." She paused, but I was too much af- fected to reply. She went on. "It was part selfishness which made me insist on nursing you alone; for I remained with you as much as possi- 1 ble,-keeping the men, when I could, in f the outer room. Duringyour delirium. you said enough to make me fear to have your words heard by other ears than mine. I excepted M'Manus, for he already knew the terrible secret." "I can not tell what-" "I refer to Peabody's death. Yes! your ravings, and my poor father's, told the story." "But," I said, "is it not possible that we may both be mistaken? May it not have been a diseased fancy of your father?" , She shook her head. "I have thought it all over, day af- ter day. I have laid awake-thinking of it, night after night. I have striven to reason myself out of the conviction, but it is here-ere. If you knew all you wocld pity him, guilty as he is. For years he had toiled and struggled, none more honest, none more sober, none kinder to his family-toiled and struggled, never to rise higher than the berth of second mate. Discontent grew to be a fatal disease; the fatal opportunity came:; and then--oh I it is horrible to think of it, but I thank hea- ven that he is deprived of reason, for, if it should be fonnd out-if--" "No cause for alarm," I interrupted. "Even if he did it, which is by no means certain, there are no human witnesses." "Human!"She shuddered. "If he should die, and unrepentent! Oh, my father I my father!" and her feel- ings found vent in tears. "Amelia," said I, "you cannot tell what agony cf penitence your father has suffered. It was his very remorse that caused the change in his life; his madness comes from that. Depend upon it, he has repented, and fear- fully." "Upon my word," exclaimed Mrs page: 108-109[View Page 108-109] M'Manus, who was passing from one room to another, and stopped for a mo- ment to regard us, "you two are hold- ing earnest conference. I wonder what Joseph Peabody would say." Amelia sighed. "Mr. Brooks," she said, in a low voice, "you have given me a brother's kindness, and I will return you a sis- ter's confidence. I was engaged to Captain Peabody's brother Joseph." "And he has cast you off on account of your father's ruin?"I asked bitter- ly. "You are well rid of any man so base." "Do not say so, Mr. Brooks. You wrong him--very much wrong him. He never cast me off. He implored me to marry him, and he declared that he never would consider it other than a pleasure to support my helpless pa- rents, and I believed him. Yes 1 he is honor and truth, and kindness, and I-" "What then? How is it that you did not accept him?" "--ahl I am a murderer's daughter -the man who murdered his brother is my father. Could Hdare I marry him? No I I refused; he does not know why; he will never know, I hope. He thinks I am fickle and base; he scorns me; he hates me; and H oh, what is left for me?" It was useless to attempt consola- tion for a grief like her's-a grief over young hopes, fond passion and maiden peace, all hoplessly wrecked. I said but little; what could I say? but with a sympathizing pressure of the hand left her. I walked slowly to Broadway, and from thence down town, thinking of Amelia Van Kline and her suffering, and paying no attention to those on either side, when I was startled by a voice at mly ear: "Well, fellow-voyager, is this you or your shadow?" I looked up and saw Archbold. I shook his hand, and asked him when he had returned to the United States. "When returned I I haven't been away. I've just returned from St. Louis. I've been spending the last three years in the Indian country-. been among the Arrapahoes, and so on. I only came from St. Louis last week. But what makes you so miserable? Been sick?" "Yes-but just recovered." "Why don't you try the country? Go out to the mountains, and brace your- self up." "It would be very agreeable, I dare say, if one had pleasant company." "Tile best of pleasant company- me. I'm going to Western Virginia in a week, to look after some land of ' mine there. Come along. Know any. thing about ores?" "Yes; something." "Well, may be we'll find a gold mine. Atall events, the jaunt will do you good, and it is the cheapest trav- eling in the world. Think of a coun- try where chickens sell at a New York shilling per pair, and eggs at five cents a dozen-a country where there are deer and black bear, with countless turkeys-the land of Canaan, flowing with milk and honey--the land. of mountains and forests, and waterfalls, my boy. Come along." "You tempt me." "That's my aim; I want company; come with me to Delmonico's. We'll dine together, and talk the matter over. There was no resisting his pressing and to Delmonico's we went. My com- panion got at once into the mysteries of the carte, and was only fit to discuss proper dishes. When we had made our selections, he broke out again: "You should have been with me at St. Louis Who do you think r met there? Can't say, of course. Do you recollect the story I told you once of my adventures in northern Mexico, and the strange Englishman with the savages?" "Yes." "Well, I saw him. He had escaped from them at last, and got to St. Louis.' "What was his name?" "I never asked him. I heard some one call him Doctor Bull. He came from the southwest of England, and is going home in two or three months, as soon as his drafts come back, he says." ' Southwestern part of England I why that is my native place. At least I was born there. Did he name the county?" "' Yes, but I forget. I remember the county town, the court-house as we say in Virginia. Puttenham he called it." "That's my town; but I remember no Dr. Bull." "Oh, that's the town. He invited me to spend some time at his place there; and if I go over in two or three months, as I may, I'll run down to him." "See here," said I, feeling quizzical, "don't be too sure you will. I know the name of every landholder in that county, of any position, though Idon't know them personally, and Hwell, are you sure your friend isn't a tin- ker?" "Pshaw 1" "Because the only Bull I know is Ralph Bull, and he is in the tin-repair- ing-line." "Poh nonsense I the Doctor is a gentleman, by three descents, at least. It breaks out all over him. He's blood to the bone, as the jockeys say. But what makes you stare that way? Heavens I man, are you ill?" I was looking at another table. There sat, bolt upright, looking us both straight in the face, clearly, un- mistakably alive, Captain Peabody, for- merly master of the good ship Mary Perkins. CHAPTER XXIII., Which clears un the close of the last, and takes the reader to the dismissal of characters in one of the by-plots. Captain Peabody, no ghost at all, very living, and very tanned, came forward and shook my hand. Archbold enjoyed my surprise ex- ceedingly. "I thought you knew all about the Captain's escape and return," said he. "Knew no I I can scarcely con- ceive of his being alive, even now. I thought the sea had swallowed him. How did you escape, captain?" "It's a long story," said the captain. "I have been at home two weeks, and would have been at home two or three years sooner, only after escaping being drowned, I suffered shipwreck. Boy, bring my plates and things here-we'll mess together this hitch, and I'll spin my yarn." The captain's story was a rather long one, and I shall give only the main particulars. He had gone aft that night, and was looking out into the distance, when he thought he made out a vessel on the larboard quarter. He page: 110-111[View Page 110-111] stepped on the bulwarks, just at one of the davits, to take a better look, when he was suddenly jostled, and losing. his footing, fell overboard. The whole thing was done so suddenly, that he had not only no suspicion who his assailant might be, but no time to do more than utter a sharp cry, before he touched the water, and went down. When he arose to the surface the ship was already some distance off. He was a good swimmer, and desperately kept himself up, though with little hope to escape death. He swam on in the wake of the vessel, hoping his loss would be discovered, and something thrown over as a buoy. Presently something came sweeping against him and he grappled it. It proved to be one of the hen-coops that we had tossed over, and it gave him courage. The support rested him, and he managed to take off his cravat with one hand,tie it to two of the slats of the coop, and make a kind of becket, into which he placed his left arm. Thus supported he hoped to float until daylight, when possibly some passing vessel might hear his hail, and pick him up. He got occasional glimpses of the light of some ship, which he supposed to be the Mary Perkins, as it really was, re- tracing her track in search of him, but she was too far to leeward to hear or see. He lost all sight of this at last, and judged that she had given him up. At length there caine the lights of a large vessel almost bearing down on him, and he sung out lustily. The wind had lulled somewhat, and by a mere apparent chance, they heard- his cry. Thee*ssel was hove to, and a boat was lowered, though it came near being swamped, and he was ta- ken on board. The vessel was the Maubila, from Boston to Calcutta, with a cargo of ice. She reported having passed a large vessel a short time be- fore, with which she nearly came into collision, and it was the narrow escape from this accident which made her string the lanterns the captain saw. The master of the ship told him that they intended to stop at no port on their way out, but he would put him on board some homeward-bound ship, if possible. They passed one or two, but the sea was so rough that commu- nication was impracticable. They next hoped to meet with'some vessel, under better circumstances, when they weath- ered the Cape. This they did not do, for the vessel he was in was wrecked off the coast of Zanguebar, and al- though the crew, with the exception of one landsman, was saved, the ship and cargo were entirely gone. The wrecked people were treated better by the natives than they expected, being only plundered of the lighter articles on them, while their clothes were left untouched. There they remained, pri- soners among a set of savages, for over three years. During this time se- veral of the party died. At length an English man-of-war, cruising in those waters, heard by some means of Chris- tians and white men being prisoners, and sent on shore to demand them. After some quibbling, the survivors were given up. Taken on board the frigate, they were all conveyed to Cal- cutta. From there he took passage to England, and so got home. The conduct of Van Kline on ship- board, and his subsequent madness, had been made known to Peabody, and though the evidence was not con- clusive, he had no doubt as to who it was that had shoved him overboard. He said that but for the insanity of Van Kline he would have been arrest- ed. Now he intended to keep the mat- ter as quiet as possible,. for the sake of his younger brother, who was "sweet" on Van Kline's daughter. I told him that I had some facts to com- municate which I thought would inter- est him and his brother too, if they would meet me at an hour fixed on the following morning. He agreed to that, and after I had arranged for my start for Virginia with Archbold, which was to take place the following week, we all parted. Punctual to the hour next day, the captain came, bringing with him a young man about twenty-eight years old, a plain, matter-of-fact looking per- son, whom he introduced as his bro- ther Joe, and whom I found was a ship- builder, with a very fair run of cus- tom. We three sat down, and I proceeded to tell them of my acquaintanceship with Amelia, of her character, her struggles and her sufferings. This in- volved, necessarily, an exposition of her father's temper and temptations, the progress of his remorse, and the insanity which' had resulted. I did not spare even what she had said to me with regard to herself, which other- wise I should have regarded as a con- fidential communication. I told all I knew, and gave my own views with 1 regard to it. When I came to that 1 part referring to the rejection of him, ' and her motives for it, tears stood in the eyes of the younger Peabody, and 1 even the elder brother was visibly af- fected. "The question is now, Captain," I t said, "whether you will let your natu- ral resentment at the wrong you have f endured, and the captivity and suffer- - ing it has caused you, stand in the way - of the peace of a young woman so sin- gle-hearted, upright and courageous as Amelia Van Kline?" "And of mine too, brother," added Joe. Capt. Peabody thundered out, "No, by,----" I won't write the last word, for the captain was excited, and was not of pious habits. "No," he continued, "but what must I do?" "The very eight of you would be a balm to her ; for your existence re- lieves him of the evil act, whatever may have been his intent-; but your forgiveness of him would complete the good work." "I do forgive him," exclaimed the seaman, " for that girl's sake, from my very soul." The younger, brother grasped his hand, and wrung is with both his. I took things more coolly; but then I was not in love with Amelia, and I wasn't given to enthusiasm. It was arranged between us that I was to call on Amelia first, to prepare her for an interview, and the rest were to be within hail. When I came to the house, I found Mrs. M'Ianus ready for a start. "Where away," I asked, "and where is Amelia?" "She is getting ready to visit her father, and I am going with her. He has been very ill for some time, and has entirely recovered his reason." "So I the flashing up of the wick before the candle goes out." "Yes; they have sent word that he may not probably live this night through." "And his wife?" "She is not in a fit condition to be page: 112-113[View Page 112-113] carried to him, and we have concealed the fact of his danger from her. It would only fret her, and it will be as easy if he dies to break the news to her. A neighbor, whose discretion we can confide in, remains with her till our return." "Have you any objection to my using your parlor for an interview be- tween Amelia and a couple of her friends?" "Certainly not." "Then, when she comes down, leave the room to her and me for a few mo- ments. I will explain presently." When Amelia entered, Mrs. M'Ma- nus left as I had requested. "Amelia," said I, "may I go with you?" "Surely." "And take two friends along?" "Friends!" "Yes. I have some news of Cap- tain Peabody." "Captain Peabody!" "Yes; can you bear good news? The Captain is not dead!" She would have fallen, had I not caught her. "Sit down," I said, "and compose yourself. The Captain is not dead. Wait awhile." I joined Mrs. M'Manus in the next room, and beckoning from the window to my companions, who were in sight, and anxiously awaiting my signal. I then hurriedly explained matters to Mac's wife. We two heard the door of the outer room open; a half scream; some sob- bing; low murmured words which grew higher, and then Captain Pea- body came into the room rubbing his hands. The Captain's eyes were very red, but there was a pleasant smile on his face as he said: "Excuse me, ma'am, for intruding here; but that couple have a good deal to say to each other, and a little time to say it in, and I reckon I'm ra- ther in the way." The captain rubbed his hands. A happy man was the captain. Mrs. M'Manus overflowed with delight. "Captain," she said, "you're an an- gel." "Thank 'ee, ma'am," said the cap- tain, "of a Dutch build, strong and stout." "I wish John was here," said Mrs. M'Manus. I fancied John's honest face when he would hear the particulars, and wished he were there also. We talked over the matter awhile, and then interrupted the lovers; even Amelia, fond daughter though she was, having grown oblivious of time. Jo- seph started to get a couple of coaches, and we were soon on our way, the captain and I in one coach, and Joseph and the two ladies in another. On our arrival at the asylum, I ask- ed for the chief resident physician, a man as noted for his genial manners as for his skill. I inquired from him Van Kline's condition "Very. bad," he answered. "The chances are very 'much against him, unless we have something pleasurable to excite him. Who have you with the daughter and her friend?" "You have heard of Captain Pea- body. The elder is he." "The man whom Van Kline fancies he drowned." "Yes; can he see him?" "In his present condition, no. 'He is very weak, and it may do mischief." "Pardon me," I said, "-but- I may mention in confidence that Van Kline had some reason for supposing he had drowned the captain." "Ah!" that is a diffeient affair. He may go in." Amelia and I entered the apartment first, it having been settled that we should prepare him. He did not recog- nize me. I spoke to him. "Mr. Van Kline, don't you remember me? Don't you remember Mr. Brooks, who came passenger with you on the Mary Perkins?" He stared on me in fear, and his sunken eyes lit up. I was afraid lest the insane fit would return, so I hur- ried. matters. "They-tell me," I said, "you fan. cied when you were sick that you had pushed Captain Peabody overboard, though he's in the next room, alive and well." He raised himself in bed and trem- bled. "Then you know it too. Well-ah, dead I dead! drowned 1 drowned!" "Drowned I nonsense P"I rejoined, as I went to the door. "Come in, Captain. Here is Van Kline, who will have it that you were drowned at sea, whether or no." Peabody entered, walked forth to the mate's bed, and put forth his hand. Van Kline turned pale, and crouched back, looking up suspiciously from un- i der his eye-brows. } "Why, Van," exclaimed Peabody, f "won't you take your old Captain by the hand when he comes to see you?" Van Kline shivered, put forth his hand tremulously, and touched the Captain's palm. The next instant he I grasped the other's arm, felt it over, and with a shriek, followed by a fit of ' loud laughter, fell forward on his face. We raised him at once. I thought he was dead, but he had only fainted. When he recovered, he saw his old commander again, and we awaited the result with anxiety. "Alive!" he exclaimed, "alive I Thank God 1" Every heart echoed the words, ex- cept that of the doctor. He was not much given to impulse, or perhaps was too much accustomed to such scenes. He was watching the case with a cu- rious and professional eye. "Leave us alone together," said Van Kline. "Stand back, that we may talk without being heard." We drew back, and the two talked together a long while in low, earnest tones. Whatever it was passed be- tween them, it seemed to satisfy Van Kline, who looked grateful, and pressed the other's hand. Amelia went forward, and Captain Peabody joined us. The doctor went forward too. "Hold on, messmate l" said the Captain; "let the girl get her father's dying blessing, and hear his last words alone." The doctor paid no attention to the remonstrance, but went forward, felt the sick man's pulse, and asked him one or two questions. "Dying!" said he. "Not a bit of it. All the faculty could hardly kill him," he continued, smiling. "He'll get well, and quickly too." And so it proved. Van Kline ral- lied from that out, and finally recov- ered. As I never saw him again, I will content myself with telling the rest of his history. He lived after- page: 114-115[View Page 114-115] 'wards with his son-in-law, Joseph Pea- body, and died, I learn, about three years since-his wife having long pre. ceded him-his son-in-law and daugh- ter, with their three children, standing around his death-bed. CHAPTER XXIV., Wherein we travel to the mountains, and I tell what we meet there. I certainly enjoyed my Virginia trav- el vastly. We stopped a week at Rich- mond, where I received the bachelor hospitality of Archbold, who had a big house, and supported a dozen or more of black bond-servants, in lazy inde- pendence. From thence we went by the canal-packet to Lynchburg, a queer old town, picturesquely imbedded in a knot of hills. From that place we traveled by mail-coach to the South- west, stopping to breakfast at Buford's, where the inn-keeper welcomed us with peach-brandy, and to look at the Peaks of Otter. After several days of travel over the most execrable roads, since that time replaced in use by a railway, we arrived at Evesham, the shire town of Wythe. Here I was heartily glad to learn that we should pursue the re- mainder of our journey on horseback. After purchasing a couple of short rifled guns from a gunsmith in the vil- lage, with their accoutrements, and dispatching them before us, we looked about for horses. A written notice, posted on the inn door, brought to our view, in a few hours, a choice collec- tion of all the halt, blind, and aged hacks for miles around, and served to display the eloquence and acuteness of the sharpest horse-jockeys in the world, those of Yorkshire not except- ed. So soon as we had dismissed them, a better kind of horses made their ap- pearance, and we finally obtained two very decent cobs, at a moderate price, the one I was to ride being held at six- teen pounds, English money. We crossed several mountains on the following day, and arrived at even- ing, after a ride of forty-nine miles, at the county town of Tazewell. The next day we dined in Abb's valley, a narrow depression in the hills, and en- tered upon the sandstone country, a wild and picturesque region watered by the branches of the Guyandotte and Sandy rivers. Before us, as we topped the summits of the hills, we could see a countless succession of tree-clad ridges, looking like the waves of some sylvan sea. The inhabitants live there in primeval simplicity, a race of hunt- ers, unlettered but shrewd, whose knowledge of agriculture is chiefly confined to the cultivation of maize, or corn, as they call it. These hills and valleys are the resort of vast amounts of game, principally deer and wild turkeys, and the streams are stocked with the finest fish. We re- sisted the seductions of hunting and fishing on our route, and pushed on to the waters of Coal river, a tributary of the great Kanawha, where Arch- bold's property lay. It was a noble but wild domain he had, although of little value in money. Ten thousand acres of hill land, streak- ed with numerous streams, running through narrow, but highly fertile val- leys, and without a dwelling to invade the wilderness. We found lodgings at the house of a mountaineer, on Coal river, a squatter who had but one - room in his house, but managed to give us food and a bed. So soon as breakfast was over on the following morning, we started to examine Archbold's tract, haying a surveyor's map of the property, and being furnished with minute directions from the man of the house. We had a fine ride, working our way along cat- tle-paths and deer-tracks, through the woods and over numerous low gaps, and it was not until nearly night-fall that we turned to retrace our steps. Unfortunately, fiowever, we missed our path somehow, and got farther and f arther into the wilderness, and night-fall found us at. the head of a brawling branch without any appa- rently defined path. We had taken our dinners with us, and a sufficiency of oats in our saddle-bags to, give our horses one meal, but expecting to re- turn to whence we had set out, had made no provision for supper. After wandering and stumbling through the woods for some time, and getting tho- roughly wet by crossing the brook at a deep hole, our horses suddenly stopped, and refused to budge any further, a hint not lost on us. After a consultation, we determined to stop where we were until morning, a sensible conclusion, since we could do nothing else. Tying our horses to saplings, we stripped them, and then groped about to find dead wood, which we placed against a trunk of a fallen tree, and kindled by means of dry leaves, and some matches which Arch- bold carried for the purpose of light- ing his pipe. The blaze of the fire cheered us, and by its light we were enabled to gather a sufficiency of dry i wood to replenish it during the night. We had brought our rifled guns with us, so that we are in no danger of wild beasts, though there were really none to fear, except possibly a stray panther, and him the light of the camp fire would keep away. And the fire itself began to increase its brilliancy at length to such a degree as to aston- ish me, until I found the light was due to other causes than the wood. We had kindled it between what I sup- posed were two great blocks of stone, but these proved to be some species of coal. By the light this made I gath- ered some more lumps of like nature, and our light grew exceedingly gay, our spirits grew exceedingly high, and despite the fact of our being supper- less and hungry, we indulged in a deal of fun at our mishap. We had been thus camped out about a couple of hours, and were preparing to lie down on a rude bed made of hemlock boughs, when we found we had a visitor. We heard something crackling through the underbrush, and over the dead limbs, and supposing it to be some wild beast, raised ourtrifles. As we did so, a tall, gaunt figure came out of the darkness, and addressed us: "Good evening, gentlemen. Camped out, I reckon." The language was the patois of the section, but there was something in the tone and manner which assured me that the speaker was an English- man. "Yes," answered Archbold, "we lost our way." "I saw your light from my house, and came out to see what it was. I reckon you could lodge with meif you felt so disposed We gladly accepted the proffer, and under the man's guidance found his cabin, not quite half a mile down the creek, as the brook is there called. The house of our entertainer was of more pretension than any we had page: 116-117[View Page 116-117] found in that region. Though built originally of hewn logs, it was not only covered externally with boards, but wainscoted in the interior. It had several apartments, or rather there were several small cabins built one against the other. The apartment which we entered was neatly though rudely furnished, and there were some evidences of cultivated taste. The two windows were hung with chintz curtains, and a mantel-shelf was adorn- ed with the blossoms of the rhododen- dom set in neat china vases. A few colored paints, in plain frames, hung upon the walls. A dark-complexioned woman was in the room, and to her our host spoke as his wife, urging her to prepare us a supper. We deposited our guns in one corner, and went out to see that our horses were properly bedded and fed. This was soon done, and after hanging our saddles and bridles on pins high up under the porch, we entered the house, ready to eat our supper whenever it was ready for us. The woman was taciturn, and quiet- ly busied herself in preparing the food and setting it on the table without ut- tering a word. The husband was talk- ative, and asked us our names, from whence we came, whither we were go- ing, and what was our business, all of which we imparted to him frankly, since not to be communicative in that quarter leaves the reticent traveler un- der the ban of suspicion. As in ancient Mercia, the traveler is obliged to blow his horn on coming into the country, and he who refuses to give a full ac- count of himself is supposed to have evil designs. "From New York, eh?" said our host. "You wasn't raised there, I reckon," he added, addressing himself specially to me. "No"I replied, "I was bred in Eng- land." "I allowed so," said he, "when I first heard you talk. I was raised in the old country myself, but I've been here so long, that I've fallen into their ways, and pretty much talk their lan. guage. Queer place, isn't it?" "A little so to a stranger, but a fine country, nevertheless." "What part did you come from?" "The south-west-the town of Put- tenham." The woman, who was carrying a dish to the table, started and dropped the. vessel to the floor, shattering it to pieces. "Why, wife," said Simon Potter, for such he had told us was his name, " it seems to me you're mighty narvous." The woman made no answer, but swept the pieces into the hearth, and then returned to her work. She soon had everything ready, and seated her- self at the head of the table to pour out the coffee, without which no meal is considered complete among these mountaineers. "Set up, men," said Potter. "Draw your cheers." We drew up our chairs to the table without a second invitation. It was certainly a tempting meal. 'he rude white-wood table had been jcovered with a clean white cloth, add there were plates of smoking, light biscuit, honey in the comb, fresh venison cut- lets, fried chickens, preserved peaches, slices of wheaten bread, and rich, yel- low butter. These two last were es- pecially welcome, since we had eaten only maize-bread for several days past, and flavorless white butter, and we fell to work heartily. In a few minutes I had taken the edge off my appetite, and was debating what I should attack next, when I raised my eyes, and saw those of the woman fixed on me, with, a strange, startled expression. I looked at her in some astonishment. She was about forty-five, perhaps, and had no doubt been very good-looking in her day; certainly she still had fine eyes, which retained the fire and lustre of early womanhood. Her gaze fell, and she muttered something to herself indis- tinctly. Nothing more occurred wor- thy of remark during supper, and we finished our meal in silence. After having satisfied our appetites, we intimated to our host that we would like to retire. As Potter was arrang- ing the rude lamp, and preparing to light it, the woman came close to me, and with an accent evidently foreign, whispered to me: "Let me see you alone in the morn- ing before you go away. Do not fail." I nodded assent, of course, though I firmly believed at the moment that the woman was mad. She seemed to be -satisfied, and went to the fire-place, and leaned against the wall, still watch- ing me. The husband led us to our apartment, and bade us good night. As we were getting into bed, I told Archbold of the matter, and he pro- posed to occupy Potter's attention in the morning, so that I could hold the interview with the woman without in- terruption. CHAPTER XXV., Which tells of a Discovery, not such as Ide. sired, but which turns out to be profitabe, and of news from home. The next morning I arose before my i companion. I found Potter and his wife-busy, the latter about household matters, and the former in-doors and out.; but as there was no oppqrtunity for the desired conference, I left the house and walked up the stream, to the spot on which we had camped the night before. I went to the fire, which still smouldered, examined the ashes, and then looked for more lumps of the coal. I found these scattered in every direction, having been washed from the hills by floods. It proved to be an exceedingly fat cannel-coal, a mineral I was not then aware was to be found in the United States. I next endeav- ored to discover it in its original situa- tion, and soon found it where the stra- tum crossed the brook, and ,had been washed clean by the flow of water. I measured the seam by my hand, and estimated it to be nearly four feet from roof to floor. The seams of cannel- coal in Scotland are much thinner than this, and yet are profitably worked. I thought the discovery might possibly be turned to account, and walked quiet- ly back. Breakfast was ready when I return- ed, and Archbold had arisen. We sat down, and while eating engaged in conversation. "How much land do you hold here?" I asked. "Eight hundred acres, and about forty of it first-rate- bottom land," was the answer. "But if I could sell out, I'd go back to the old country again, for I've picked up something by rang- ing cattle in these hills, and I could 'live,snugly enough on it in Lincoln- shire. I've got neither chick nor child, both my sons are dead, and I'd like to lay my bones in the old church-yard at home." page: 118-119[View Page 118-119] "What do you hold your land at?" "Well, the bottom land is worth, with the improvements, say thirty dol- lars an acre, and cheap at that; and the hill land about a dollar and a-quar- ter. That's-let me see--over twenty- one hundred dollars, but I'd take a lit- tle less for cash. That's the worst of it, for you can't sell here, except for long credits." "How far up this creek do you go?" "About a mile, and down clear to the mouth, with a- narrow strip on the river." "I think I might buy myself, if we could agree," I said. - "You think of settling here, then?" "No, but I'd like to own it. I've taken a fancy to the place." "You'd have to declare yourself a citizen, or you couldn't hold it, I think. I don't know much about the law, but I think that's the case." I looked, I suppose, disappointed. "Oh," said Archbold, "if you really want to buy that can be arranged. I believe he is right that an alien can't well hold real estate in this Common- wealth, or at least can't transmit it; but an enabling act could be got through the Legislature easy enough. It often passes such bills; and in the meanwhile you could take a covenant title. I tlink, by the by, some of the larger tracts are held abroad by spe- cial act." "Oh, that will answer. What is the lowest you could take in cash?" "Well," said Potter, reflectingly, "if you really want to buy, I'd take two thousand dollars, and you to pay for drawing the papers, and not a cent less." "I'll take it. Here's ten dollars be- fore witness to bind the bargain. We'll have the papers drawn to-day." And I handed Potter a gold coin. "You're pretty quick," said he, "but it's a bargain. And as you were talk. ing about your tract, Mr. Archbold,' he added, "I can tell you your line joins mine. I can show you one of your corner-trees about a mile from this, a poplar, up a dry branch. So your friend and you will be near neigh- bors." "Suppose you show it to me this morning," said Archbold, seizing the opportunity to afford me the promised interview with Potter's wife. "Agreed," said the other. In the course of a half hour the wo- man and I were alone together. "Now," said she, "I speak bad Eng lish. Do you speak Spanish?" "Yes." She addressed me then in the lan- guage of the Peninsula. "Why do you change your name to Brooks? Is your father alive?" "That is more than I can tell," I said, "for I do not know who he is." 1 had thought her crazy, but there was not a little method in her mad- ness, if she were so. "Do not know!" she ejaculated. "What do you mean? What is your real name, then?" "Fecit. At least that is the name given me, because they had no other at hand, I suppose." "I must be mistaken, and yet-your face-it is too marked. . If your iather be dead, you should have succeeded to his title. What is your history? Who are you that comes here into the wild forest, and brings up with that face and-tone, the memories of the past? Speak 1" Should I tell her? It would do no harm, I thought. What should I care for this stranger in the woods of Vir- ginia? If she were mad, what then? I briefly narrated the story of my hav- ing been placed as a babe in the hands of Mr. Guttenberg. "Yes, I know all that," she said when I had closed, "but did not the valet keep his promise?" "I'm sure I don't know. Explain yourself." "I will explain when we meet in England. Buy this place. Then my husband will go; but do you follow us there." "I have bought it, but I can't go home because-well, you don't know him, but I have unwittingly incurred the ill-will of the Earl of Landys; and I had better keep out of his way?" "He I why should he injure you?" "That is what I cannot tell." "He 1 impossible! But go to Eng- land. There has been wrong done to you somehow. It shall be righted." All farther I could get from her was the injunction to go to England as speedily as possible, and wait for her. Presently Potter and Alchbold return ed, and with them a stranger. "As you seemed in a hurry," said Potter, "I thought I'd bring Squire Adkins to draw them papers." "Thank you," said I, "I'm quite ready." "' The covenant to convey was drawn, executed, and duly witnessed, and it was arranged that the money was to be paid, the title perfected, and the deeds made to me or my assigns, with- in three months. We- shook hands with our host, who would accept no pay for our entertainment, and, bow- ing to the wife, we mounted our horses and rode away. "You have some strong motive in buying this mountain land?" was Arch- bold's question, as we rode along. "I have," I answered, and then gave him the secret. When we came to the bare stratum in the creek bottom, I pointed it out to him. "Do you think it so valuable, then?" -he asked. "Certainly. It is worth much more than the other coal, and will cost less to mine and transport. Coal River can be readily made navigable by a company, and Kanawha is already fit for coal barges during more than half the year. Wait awhile, and you will see." "By Jove 1 if that should prove to be as you assert; I am the better off for it, for by the bearing of this stream it goes right through a corner of my tract. I must see to it." We remained in the neighborhood for several days, quite long enough for Archbold, under the pretence of hunt- ing, to see that'he had a goodly share of the benefits of my discovery; and after boxing up some specimens, and sending thein by wagon to Kanawha to be shipped to New York, we started for home, by the way of the White Sulphur Springs, first selling our horses at the town of Charleston, on Kana- whal When we arrived at New York, Archbold brought a noted speculator into our counsels, who undertook to engineer the matter through, for a per centage on the nctt proceeds. So sys- tematically and energetically did he go to work, having paragraphs inserted in the journals, and capitalists ap- proached in various effective ways, page: 120-121[View Page 120-121] that he soon had a fever among monied men. Nothing was talked of in Wall street but cannel coal, and the possi- ,bility of supplying the population of the Mississippi valley from a single seam. A geologist was sent out, and -a chemist employed to analyze the coal. On the favorable report of these a com- pany was formed. The stock was ta- ken rapidly, and my eight hundred acres, with seven hundred from Arch- bold's tract, was transferred to the new corporation. In nine week's time I had received, as my nett profits, af- ter our broker's commission had been -paid, the sum of seventeen thousand 'dollars in cash, and an equal sum in ;stock of the new company, which I at -once sold at ten per cent. discount. This realized me in cash over thirty- two thousand dollars. I felt, however trifling the amount might he to million- aires, with such a little fortune at my command, I would be considered well- to-do-in-the-world at home. I wrote at once to both Sharp and Paul an account of my good fortune, and was in a state of bewildered de- light for some time. About a week after I had written home, I received the following letter: "MY DEAR AMBROSE :-You have been nearly four years absent from Eng- land, and I have done my best to send and keep you away. Now, I write to you to urge you to come back. "The Earl of Landys died at his place near Puttenham last week. Ac- cording to that veracious sheet, the Chronicle, ' the deceased earl has closed a life of public usefulness and private worth, to the great regret of his friends, and the irreparable loss of his tenantry and dependants. His late lordship will be succeeded in his title and estates by his only son, Francis, a minor, who is under the guardianship of his noble mother.' "Much reliance to be placed on the newspapers, to be sure I You know what his private worth amounted to, and you may judge how much his loss will affect his tenantry; but as to the succession you don't know. A new claimant has arisen to the title and estates, and I think there can be no doubt the new-comer will win. That is the only legitimate daughter of the late Earl, with his lawful wife-tosum up shortly-our little Zara. "And now you will want to know all about it. I have sat down for the purpose of writing you the points of this singular case. "It appears that eighteen years ago the Hon. Mr. Marston; then only a com- moner, was in Spain, where he had been traveling over. a year. At the commencement of the term of travel, he had become acquainted with the. Conde de Espinel, a wealthy nobleman of high political influence, and was his invited guest. The Count had a son, Silvan, and a daughter, Zara. He had also a younger brother, Jose, who was in orders, and was a friar, and the head of a religious house. Mr. Marston fell violently in love, or fancied he did, with the daughter, who returned his passion. The father acceded to the match. The son, who was weakly in constitution, and a bigoted devotee, objected to it on the ground of a dif- ference of religion in the parties, but really because he hated Marston. The Count fell from his horse, and died from the effects of the fall. Silvan, now the head of the house, withdrew the consent for the marriage. The custom- ary steps on the part of the lovers fol- lowed. The uncle, won over by the tears of his niece, of whom he was very fond, married the two secretly, after they had been previously married by the chaplain of the British Embas- sy. The marriage was kept secret, but the birth of a daughter, little Zara, revealed it, and Count Silvan was in- dignant. He declared the couple should never come together, if he could help it; and Marston seemed anxious to aid him, or was tired of his wife, for he left Spain and was heard of no more. His wife was fragile, and the double blow of her husband's desertion and her brother's cruelty proved too much for her. She went into a rapid decline, and died, leaving Zara under her un- cle's charge. She was taken care of, h6wever, though grudgingly. Her fa- thee never appeared to claim her, and it turned out afterward that the mes- sage sent to England, in regard to the mother's illness, had been misinter- preted into the death of both mother and child. In the meanwhile Marston was much embarrassed in his affairs he had obtained no money from his marriage, and tempted by the fortune of a wealthy heiress, he married again. Unfortunately for himself, the new marriage was performed a week before his wife really died. "Don Silvan died about nine years after, and through political influence, Don Jose, his uncle, was released from his vows, and succeeded his nephew as the next heir. He pitied Zara, for his dead niece's sake, and determined to have justice done her. He came to England, and his visit to Puttenham startled the new Earl of Landys, who had long before discovered his invo- luntary bigamy. He discovered the presence of his daughter also, and af- ter consulting with Osborne, it was :determined to put Espinel out of the way on the first opportunity, and ob- tain possession of Zara,-who was to be 'educated at some convent abroad, in ignorance of her true, birth. In the meanwhile he must have caused the alteration of the church register, post- dating his marriage. "Espinel was desirous, on account of Zara, to disgrace her father as little as possible, and, after consulting with the Duke of Sellinghourne, whom he had known while the latter served as Ambassador to Spain, it was agreed to put the evidence in such a shape as to secure Zara's rights on her father's death, and then leave all to time. The Earl was unaware of his noble rela- tive's intimacy with the facts, and pur- sued his own plan against Espinel. He finally succeeded in having the lat- ter taken to the lunatic asylum, where he thought he would be buried for life. You were taken -also, partly because he thought you involved in the secret, but partly, it appears, for another rea- son, though we have not been able to quite fathom that. He was preparing to seize Zara when the escape occur- red. A message was now sent him, that any farther attempts would be followed by a public exposure of the facts, bigamy and all, but if he refrain- ed the secret was safe during his life- time. This communication came from, and was signed by the Duke, with whom the Earl did not think it prudent to wage war. So he suspended opera- tions, content with the assurance, which, coming from the quarter it did, was to be relied on. "His intentions with regard to you, which were discovered by Gifford, who had overheard himand Oaborne talk it page: 122-123[View Page 122-123] over, were to get you out of England, by fair means or foul, for it appears that the mysterious portrait had af- forded you a clue which it was not ad- visable for you to be permitted to fol- low. The snuff-box business was not probably meant to cover you with in- famy, but as a means to force your de- parture. There is a mystery about that business apparently impenetrable. At all events, it baffles my ingenuity. "Immediately on the Earl's death, a claim was laid to the Earldom and es- tates-a possible female inheritance by creation-on behalf of Zara Mars- ton, daughter of the late Earl of Lan- dys and Zara de Espinel. The fair claimant is now at the house of the Duke of Sellinghourne, whose daugh- ter, Lady Caroline Barre, formerly Lady Caroline Bowlington, is there with her. The land title, involving, in its result, the title to the peerage, will come off before very long. The relatives of the younger Countess of Landys affect to believe it to be a trumped-up case, and fight fiercely for the right of the son. The late Earl evidently knew better, for before his death he had invested all the money he could obtain in the hands of trustees, for the son's benefit. "Thus you have all the facts in this singular case; and now-come home. You have no reason to stay, unless you have picked up an American wife, with a copper skin, bells on her fingers, and rings in her nose. I have been mar- ried myself since I last wrote, and my wife, who knew you well once, sends her regards to you. So does Espinel. So does a certain little, dark-eyed lady whom I saw yesterday. So does also Captain Berkeley-Captain no more. He is back again--has been married to what he calls a 'doosid fine woman'- is a Lieutenant-Colonel, to be farther promoted, they say, to a Baronet, and a Companion of the Bath. He has picked up lots of 'loot' in India, and, horrible to relate, is growing fat. "Yours ever, "PAUL BAGBY." During the following week I started for England. CHAPTER XXVI. Wherein we have a little love-making and other miseries. The arrival of the steamer at Liver- pool having been telegraphed, Paul Baghy came down by mail to meet me. I shook his hand warmly, and he con- gratulated me on my general appear- ance, and the good fortune'I had met with among the Yankees. "My wife is with me," said he, "and is quite anxious to see you again." "You said in your letter that she was an old acquaintance. Pray, whom did you marry?" "Come and see. I have engaged seats within the hour, for London ; and my wife is already at the station, in charge of a friend. Leave your lug- gage; they will send it by another train; I have seen to that, and start at once." I followed him to the station, and there met-Cecilia. I was delighted. It appeared that Cecilia's uncle was dead, and had made her his heiress. Paul had met her while on a visit to Staffordshire ; my name had accident- ally come, up, and finding Paul was my intimate friend, conversation about me ended in an intimacy, intimacy came to love, and love culminated into mar- riage. It bad all come about in the most natural manner in the world. The run up to London was very pleasant. On arriving at the termi- nus, just as we were about to get into the Duke's carriage, which was in wait- ing, Major-General Sir Charles Berke- ley came up, and shook hands with me. "Allow me to congratulate you, Am- brose-I beg pardon, Mr. Fecit, both on yuur return and the good fortune I am told you met with abroad. When you get leisure call at my house, where Lady Berkeley will be glad to see her old acquaintance." And the gallant Baronet, who was still suffering under the effects of a wound he had received in India, limp- ed off. "My old -acquaintance!" said I, to Paul, "here's another mystery. Pray whom did he marry?" "The Honorable Mrs. Leigh," an- swercd B:ighy. My welcome by the Duke, and by Espinel, who had returned from Spain to attend to the interests of his grand- niece, was a warm one. "Zara will hardly know you," said the Count, "you have altered so much in appearance." "Zara does not forget her old friends easily," said a voice at my elbow. I turned. It was Zara herself. -What a marked change Was this then the little girl who used to sit on my lap-this lovely, stately woman? Her beauty was matured early; she had the ease, dignity, and self-posses- sion of a woman, grafted on the grace of early girlhood. The laughing words that rose to my lips died away; my hand, already half extended to grasp her's, fell to my side, and I bowed re- spectfully. I felt the distance between us; I saw the impassable gulf that yawned between the future Countess of Landys in her own right, and the foundling-ap- prentice, the parvenu; but I felt also, on that first glance, that I loved her madly, ardently, and, my reason told me, hopelessly. I felt, as I looked upon her glorious beauty, and saw the lus- trous depths of those dark eyes, far more wretched to think she could ne- ver be mine than glad to see ler again. And yet it was almost a rapture to look at her, to see her move, to hear her voice. Zara was evidently ignorant of the feelings contending within me, and disposed to regard me as her old teach- er-playmate; for after the embarrass- ment of the moment had somewhat subsided, she resumed more of her girlish manner of old, and expressed a curiosity to hear of my adventures during my absence. The Duke and Espinel concurred in the wish, and Lady Carolinee Barre, to whom I was introduced, added her request to the others. So we sat down, and I told them all to the moment of my return, interrupted now and then by comments and questiors, more especially when 1 told-of my mysterious hostess in the mountains of Virginia. "And you never wrote to me," said Zara, when I had done. "I would have written to you, but my uncle here forbade it, unless you wrote first. As though that made any difference I Eti- quette between my old teacher and his pupil I How absurd 1" I felt that this was a quiet way of reminding me of our relative positions, which was quite unnecessary. I felt the distance between us enough al- ready. ' There is another lady desirous of seeing you," said the Duke; "but she is an invalid, and you must wait on page: 124-125[View Page 124-125] her. Robert,"he said to the footman, for whom he rang, "Show Mr. Fecit to her ladyship." I was ushered into the presence of the Dowager Countess of Landys, whom I found attended by Giffoid. The old lady was much changed. She was very feeble and attenuated, but she rose as I entered, and bade me be seated. "You have been long away, young gentleman," she said, "but you have come back." "Yes, your ladyship." "My son has been long away, but he will come back. Yes, I am sure of it. Sit still, sir. You are a foundling. Have you never discovered your pa- rents?" "No, your ladyship; but I have hopes from some recent occurrences." "May I ask what they are?" I told her of the words of Bridget Putter. "It may be; but take my advice. Probe this matter no farther. The dis- covery may not please you. You are young, high-spirited; you will advance yourself in the world. Do not seek to disperse a mystery which may result in your own mortification. But let me see you sometimes. I like to hear your voice. It has a familiar sound. Yes! why should he know? Better let him remain in ignorance." 4 The last words were spoken to herself. She seemed not to be aware that I was there. I arose and bade i her good day. She made no reply. I took it for a tacit consent to my de- 1 parture, and left the room. E I ran down to Puttenham the follow- t ing week, in company with Paul, and C met with a warm welcome. An ex- 6 aggerated story of my good luck had , gone abroad, and it was reported that o I had succeeded to a princely fortune. Mr. Guttenberg, who showed the pre- f vailing delirium, would have bowed unceasingly had I permitted it; :-and his wife flung her arms around my neck and kissed me, a familiarity which evidently horrified the printer. I gave the dear old soul a very old-fashioned and vulgar hug, and kissed her back again. She had always given me a mother's care, and I felt for her a son's affection. Mary giggled, and dragged forward her husband, my old friend, Tom Brown that was, to whom my ie- ported riches rendered me a rather aw- ful personage. I shook him heartily by the hand, called him by his Chris- tian name, and he was as delighted as any one. This interview over, I sought Sharp. I found him at the Museum. He look- ed frail and care-worn 5 but my pre- sence seemed to cheer him up. "You're not going away any more," said he. "No; I shall stay in England.' "That's right. And don't make ducks and drakes of your money; mind that." "I shall be prudent, be assured. What's going on in town?" "As usual; one half of the town cheating and swindling the other half; everybody lying about everybody else, and fools wasting their money." "What are they doing at the cas- tle?" "That fine gentleman, Osborne, is lording it over the place, as usual. Some people say he is going to marry the Countess, but that's a silly lie. Countess 1 If this new story's true, she's the Countess of Lackland." "Mr. Sharp," said I, "I had a sill- lardrbaml;," and I told him my old vi- sion li my delirium, during the' attack- of small-pox. He listened to it with the greatest of intorest. "Singular," he said. "I did find just such a paper as you describe, in the street, one winter morning, twen- ty-five years ago. It was marked with the name of the Earl of Landys. I intended to give it- to him, but he was away. The packet got mislaid, and I never found it until after the Earl was lost. He sent me a polite note, saying that it was of no impor- tance, but he was obliged to me for miy attention. That was all the cor- respondence that passed between us." "How long since was that?" "About six years." I felt disappointed. The packet was no doubt long since destroyed or lost. "I have one thing to request of you, Ambrose," said the old man. "I am told that I have an affection which may take me off at short notice-that is no matter-but I want you to pro- mise, if you are not in Puttenham when I am attacked, you will come to me at once if I send for you." I promised. Te- next day I return- ed to London, and by Paul's invitation took up my temporary abode at his house. I visited at the Duke's on va- rious pretexts. I was anxious to see as much of Zara as possible. It was pleasunt to look on that fair face, and sun myself in that smile. So I was with her day by day, almost, on some transparent excuse or other, both the Duke and Espinel apparently blind to \ my feelings. And thus the time passed until-the day set for the trial of Zara's cause was near at hand. During'this interval it seemed as though Zara had begun to suspect my love for her, and meant to check or re- buke it; for she grew cold in her man- ner toward me, at the last, and'met me no more in her frank, artless way. Her address, as well as manner was formal. I was no longer Ambrose with her. Unless inadvertently, I was ad- dressed as Mr. Fecit. But I said to myself, " while there is even a ray of sunshine, let me en- joy it" Three days before the time fixed for the hearing of the case, I received a telegraphic message from Paul Baghy, who was in Puttenham, aiding the law- yers in preliminary business, or rather perhaps indulging in his anxiety in at tempts to be useful. ' It was short, and to the effect that Sharp was very ill, and was anxious to see me at once. I booked my seat in the train-there was a railway now to Puttenham--aand started to inform my friends of my in- tended absence. They were absent, but Zara was at home alone. It seemed to me that she was kinder in her manner than usual. Our conversation gradually went back to the time when we first met, when I saw her on the high road near Putten- ham, and the pleasant days that fol- lowed. "Who would have thought then," she said, "that I would be the claim- ant for a title and estates in England?" "Or that I would be the friend of a Duke; a Count, and a young Countess?" I rejoined. "Ah " shb exclaimed, "you speak of a certainty. My friends are all san- guine of my success; but I have a conviction that I shall never be Coun- tess of Landys in my own right. I am sorry the suit has ever been brought.' page: 126-127[View Page 126-127] "Why?" "Can you ask? He was my father; and why should his daughter, for the sake of a paltry title, expose his er. rors? All these proceedings I object- ed to; but the Duke and my uncle have overruled my will. I wish it could be recalled; if they would be guided by me, it should be even now." "It is but plain justice that you should have your right," I said. "Your friends have acted properly, and as to the result, I feel confident. You will certainly be the Countess of Landys. And then," I added sadly, " will forget Ambrose." "And then," she retorted gaily, "I will never forget Ambrose." "Ah, if you were only a nameless girl, poor, unfriended--then indeed-" An impulse came upon me which I could not resist. I bent over her and taking her fair cheeks in my hand, leant down and kissed her forehead. She burst into tears. I forgot all then, our inequality of birth, everything but the passion of the present, and I pour- ed out my feelings in impulsive words. "I love you, Zara, from my soul. The passion has grown with me; it grows deeper and stronger day by day Yes I I, a wretched foundling, without kin, without position, without a name that I can call my own, love you fond- ly, madly, and dare to tell you so. But I do not dare to hope. This has burst from me unawares; I will never so of- fend again. Let me be your friend, your brother; I ask no more. Forget this mad outhurst-this worse than folly; I will never repeat it. Forget it, and forgive me." I turned; I could not bear the ago- ny of the moment; I could not wait to hear her words of scorn and re- buke; but dashed wildly from her pre- sence. CHAPTER XXVII., Which makes me and breaks me, and blows Zara on a lee shore. I was not a little surprised, on get- ting into the railway carriage, to find Archbold already seated. "Well," said I, when our greetings were over, "are you going to to your- friend the tinker-doctor, alias Ralph Bull?" "That was a very absurd mistake as to his name," replied Archbold. "It appears he had answered some imper. tinent querist that he was a John Bull, which, with something he said about a sick horse, led to the ridiculous blun- der." "Oh, then, he's a horse-doctor." "Upon my word, you are incorrigi. ble. To punish you for your absurd quizzing, you shall not know his real name until after you have gone to Put. tenham. But one thing I will tell you. Our neighbors of the mountains; the Potters, came to England in the same ship with me, and are now on one of the second-class cars on the train." I recalled the woman's promise. She evidently believed what she had said. Could she be deceived? I thought'a deal on the matter all the way down; and Archbold rallied me much on my absent-mindedness. Baghy met us at the Puttenham sta- tion. He was in a great state of ex- citement. "You are too late; Sharp is dead," he said. "But you are wanted never- theless. Can you bear good fortune well?" "I hope so. What is it?" "Simply that you are enormously wealthy. Sharp, with the exception of a trifling legacy to me, has bequeathed you his entire fortune." "You jest." "Do I? It will be a very pleasant joke to you, I dare say. This little windfall is variously estimated at from one hundred and eighty to two hun- dred thousand pounds. Sharp's law- yer, tolerably well acquainted with his affairs, says it will go over the highest figure they name. A jest, is it? Only let me be the victim of such a one, and you'll see how I'll laugh." I'was astounded, and received Arch- bold's congratulations mechanically. Two hundred thousand pounds I I for- got all about Mrs. Potter and her in- tended revelations. Here was some- thing substantial. Puttenham was in a state of great excitement, though not on-my account. The bequest of Sharp was not so un- expected, for many had predicted that the old man would make me his heir; but the great Landys case was about to come off, and it was the general to- pic of conversation. The town was crowded, the inns and lodging-houses were all filled; and all those out of town who could claim any acquaint- anceship with the dwellers, had invited themselves to be, the guests of the townsfolk. As I had nother resource, I went to the Guttenbergs. The prin ter was exalted at the honor done him, for was I not a millionaire? and Mrs. Guttenberg felt sincerely glad to have me again under her roof. I had not been long domiciled with my former master before a footman rode up to the door with a note for me. It came from Sir John Peareath, a ba- ronet of an old family, and one of the magistrates of the county, who desired I would call on him at his residence between the hours of four and five the next day, partly to dine, and partly to transact some business. A .similar note came to Mr. Guttenberg. "Bless me!" said the printer, "this is an honor. My dear, I am invited to dinner with Sir John Penreath. The Penreaths were baronets long before the Marstons were esquires. To think of Sir John inviting me!" The burial of Sharp followed, and after qualifying along with Baghy, as joint executors of the will, the lawyer, Mr. Blodgett, desired to have a conver- sation with me. "You will excuse me, sir," said he, "but Mr. Sharp, before he died, spoke to me of the mystery of your birth, and desired me to say to you that he wish- ed me to investigate it. Will you tell me, if you please, what facts you know concerning it?" I gave him the required information, and he noted it down. When I had concluded he read me the summary. "There are links wanting," said he, "but they can be supplied, even if this woman should turn out to be mistaken. There are few mysteries but what can be ferreted out, if they are systemati- cally attacked. By the by, are you acquainted with the young lady who is claiming the Landys title?" "Yes." "I am sorry for her, for she will be doomed to disappointment." "What do you mean? How can you tell that? Do you know all the evidence? She is certainly the daugh- ter of the late Earl." "Possibly the daughter of one who was considered so; but there is no late page: 128-129[View Page 128-129] Earl at all; the former Earl is. alive, and has returned. He is. now in the country, though it is known, only to a few, and hence I. say that the young lady, whom I learn has just arrived and taken lodgings at the hotel, is doomed to disappointment." "If that be so-" "It is so, I assure you. I have seen the Earl, and know him. I was for- merly his Lordship's solicitor, and will be so again." "It is not manly on his part to lie concealed, and leave her to such hopes. He should have avowed himself" "She has been or will be made ac- quainted with it; but his concealment was necessary for another purpose." I went at once to the hotel where Baghy was lodging, and where he had taken apartments for Espinel and Za- ra. Sir Charles and Lady Berkely, who had come down to be present at the trial, were also there. I found the whole party in earnest conference. They had been informed of the unex- pected re-appearance of the Earl. "Do you think it is true?" asked Lady Berkely of me. "I have no doubt of it. My lawyer was formerly his lordship's solicitor, knows him, and has seen him person- ally." "We have been all invited to meet the Earl to-morrow," said Espinel. "There is one comfort, however,', said Lady Berkely. "The Earl is child- less, and not likely to marry. Zara is still the next heir." "And how does Zara bear this un- expected change in her prospects?"I inquired. "Oh, it seems to make no difference to her. By the by, she is in the draw- ing-room,"-the conference had taken place in Sir Charles's apartments-- "and bade me say she'd like to see- you when you came, to congratulate you on your good fortune." I sought and found Zara. She was leaning with her face on her hands when I entered. She raised her face, and I was shocked at its paleness. "Miss Marston," I said, "I see no cause for- depression. It is true that you do not succeed now, but ultimate- ly-- "And do you think the failure of the suit costs me a pang?" she inquired. "Miss Marston now-it used to be Za- ra; but these fatal claims seemn to have made a fearful gap between me and my friends." "No,. no, Zara, you mistake; but it is proper that our relative positions should be maintained." "I am very wretched," she said "Your unkind words in London"- "Forgive me," I said, "I shall never so offend again." "Offendl Oh, Ambrose! why will you misunderstand Zara, and torture yourself?" She took my hand timidly, and look- ed at me from- under her half closed lids. Her face was working with some internal conflict of feeling. "You distress me," I said, "beyond measure. Tell me-I do not ask it as a lover, but as a brother, a friend-- what is the cause of this agony? Can I give you sympathy, aid, counsell?" She burst into tears, and dropping her head on my breast, spoke in low tones, but my heart heard every word. "Ungenerous Ambrose," she mur- mured, "you know that as a child I loved you; when you were away I loved you; and now-" She. paused and looked up'timidly in my face; a strange, lustrous light was in her eyes, flashing through the tears. I bent forward eagerly; our lips met; yes I she loved me; she I my beauti- ful, my darling, my Zara I We stood there, forgetful of all but the present, with no word spoken to still the wild current of joy, when a shadow fell upon us. I turned; it was Espinel. He looked at us, not un- kindly, but with a grave, sad expres- sion. "Count," said I, " do not wrong me even in thought. I love Zara, but the avowal of my love and its return, sprung from the impulse of the mo- ment, and not from calculation. It is all over now, and I do not presume to ask her at your hands. I know the madness of attempting to mate with her. I do not seek for a wife of the best blood of England and Spain. I, with a cloud upon my birth. No 1 I will not so insult you and her; but at least let me be the friend of both." Zara clung to me, and looked up im- ploringly in her grand-uncle's face. "I am to blame for this, Mr. Fecit," he said, at last, "I should have known better. Zara has loved you from her childhood up, and that attachment has grown with her. I saw it early, and should have kept you apart; but I thought it a child's fancy, to be dissi. pated by years. It is not mere pride that makes me refuse my consent now to your marriage. No; it is tender- ness for you both. The cloud that hangs over you would be a heritage of woe for yours, if not for you. Letthat be cleared up, and though you prove to be the son of the poorest man in England, the meanest day-laborer, so you have no cause to blush for your birth, Zara, if you still love each other, shall be yours. Till then-- "Till then, Count," I interrupted, "I will not abuse your confidence. With- out your full and free consent, I will never speak to Zara of love again. Nay, Zara, no tears, dearest. Your uncle's views are just, as the law of the world goes. I will not, for your own happiness, create discord between you and your kin. Wait; all may prove right. If not-if not, Count, though my heart break, I will keep my pledge." "I believe you," said he, "thorough- ly and frankly. I have watched you well, Ambrose, and I love you well too. You have honor, and I trust to your word." As we stood thus, the remainder of our party entered the apartment. We controlled our emotions so well, that none suspected what had passed be- tween us. CHAPTER XXVIII. In which the ship of the narrator sails unex- pectedly into port, twth the usual cargo. Sir John Penreath was a connection, though distant, of the Marston family. He considered that the Marston family were much honored by the fact. For the Penreaths went back for their ori- gin to a date long anterior to the con- quest. The Penreaths were Penreaths in the time of Canute. The royal fa- mily of England, alongside of the Pen- reatlis, were mere upstarts. 'Sir John was duly impressed by the honorable antiquity of his house. 'The Penreaths came out of the antediluvian world with Noah, no doubt, but in that case they had a cabin passage in the Ark, during its voyage to Mount Ararat. Honest, punctilious, and slightly pom- pous was Sir John. That he should page: 130-131[View Page 130-131] have invited the Count and Zara, Sir Charles and Lady Berkely, was not to be wondered at; that he should have tolerated Paul Bagy was not astonish- ing, since Paul was of an old family; but to aok a parvenu like me, and a tradesman like Guttenberg, to his ta- ble, was so extraordinary that no or- dinary motives could have prompted it. So I was not at all surprised on my arrival at Penreath Hall to find myself treated with the same frank -cordiality accorded to the other guests. But why? 'hat was soon to be solved. When we were assembled in the drawing- ?room, where I found Archbold, Sir John addressed us. "I have had the honor of your pre- sence, ladies and gentlemen," said he, "through the request of my kinsman, the Earl of Landys. His lordship is tolerably well convinced that he has a near kinsman in in this young gentle- man, Mr. Fecit; and desires to inves- tigate the fact, and acknowledge him in your presence. All present, with the exception of Mr. Blodgett, his lord- ship's solicitor, and myself, have known Mr. Fecit for some time, and it is to be supposed are naturally interested in the inquiry. "His Lordship is coming now," said Mr. Blodgett, entering, and the Peer followed him into the room. I had seen the Earl once before in my boyish days, during a short visit he had made to England after a long absence, and I remembered him very well. Time had changed him but very little. His complexion was darker through long travel; there were a few deepened lines about the mouth and eyes; and here and there some silver streaked his locks; but he was still the same erect, dignified nobleman, with the same grey eyes and squarely cut chin that remained in my memory. He greeted the guests courteously, as they were presented. I was the last, and I trembled, for was not the mys- tery of my birth about to be probed, and it might be laid bare? The Earl smiled kindly as he took my hand, which he retained a moment with a gentle pressure. "My return," said he, "I find is look- ed upon almost as a resurrection. Yet there is nothing very startling, except in the fact of my return at all, from my long absence. I was shipwrecked on the Mexican coast, near Mazatlan. My servant and I alone escaped. It was found that the ship could not be saved, and she was let drive bow and quarter on, the masts cut so as to fall to shore. An attempt was made to get the pas- sengers and crew to shore by means of boats; these were swamped, and. my servant, who must have found something afloat from the wreck, and clung to it, alone escaped. I was too ill to take my place in the boat, and was abandoned in the most cowardly way. The abandonment saved me. The gale subsided, and after twenty- four hours the vessel, or rather the fragments of it, was beached high and dry.. I crawled out of my state-room, and with an energy created by peril, found the use of my limbs. I let my- self down into the low water, made my way to shore, and along the beach, and finally found a spot where the rocks were less steep. I climbed these and after a rest at the top made my way to a rancho. The ranchero and his wife took good care of me, and I remained with them three weeks, scarcely able to stir. I was indifferent as to the result, but with returning health came a renewed love of life. After considering over the matter, hav- ing no care for home, for reasons which you will presently see, I determined to remain and explore that portion of Mexico. My proper course was to have gone to Mazatlan, written home from thence to my friends, and drawn through the Consul for funds. But I happened to fall in with a company who were going overland to the new Mexico country, and thoughtlessly I accompanied them. We were captured by a band of Navajoes. I was the only survivor, and some trifling feats of legerdemain which I showed the head chief caused my life to be spared, and ensured my adoption into the tribe. I was with them many years, and my escape from them, in company with some traveling traders, was of only recent occurrence. That is my story; but Mr. Blodgett will give you the facts on which I have requested your presence." Mr. Blodgett, thus appealed to, after the customary preliminary ahem, began his statement. "On the third day of December, 1827, a male child, newly-born, is delivered into the charge of Mr. John Gutten- berg, printer and stationer, in the town of Puttenham, in a mysterious manner. By Mr. Guttenberg he is reared to man- hood. With this boy there are certain tokens, a packet, unfortunately lost or destroyed, a pair of bracelets, and a ring, containing an inscription in the Malay language. Subsequently, the bones of a human being, pronounced to be a female, are found in the cellar of an old house, answering the descrip- tion of the one in which Mr. Gutten- berg received the child. To identify this more surely, Mr. Guttenberg re- members that there were two breaks in the plaster in the room, one near the door, and half way up, and a larger one in the adjoining corner, extending to the ceiling. The late Mr. Sharp, just before his death, assured me that such was the case in the back room of the third story, in the house he sold to Bingham. - The house has been re- moved, but others can prove the fact. With the remains in this house were- found a Malay dress, a pair of sleeve- buttons, and a pin, matching the brace- lets, and having a similar inscription to that in the ring. Now, it appears that in Landys Castle there is a por- tait, sent home by his lordship from Java, of Don Estevan de Cabarrus, at that time Prime-Minister to a native Prince, and his lordship's friend. To that portrait Mr. Fecit, in some res- pects, bears a strong resemblance. Circumstances occurring from time to time, which I have in this paper, but which we will pass over for the pre- sent, have led this young gentleman to believe himself the son of Don Este- van, known among the Malays as Ba- ganda Jawa, though his title from his office was Raden Adipati." Here Mr. Blodgett paused to take breath; and the Earl took up the thread of the revelation. "'From 1823 to 1828, I traveled abroad," he said, " roaming over the Eastern Archipelago, and coming home by the way of Spain. In Spain I fell in love with a young lady, the daugh- ter of a nobleman of ancient family but decayed fortune, residing near Ca- diz. I married her. The marriage has never appeared in Burke's Peerage, but we were married, nevertheless, in both forms. I had unfortunately incurred page: 132-133[View Page 132-133] the ill-will of the brother, whom I had met while at the court of the Susuhu. nan, in Java, where he was chief min- ister, and for a time my warm friend. He was disgraced by that sovereign, and erroneously attributed his dis- grace to my machinations. On his re- turn, which occurred three months af- ter our marriage, I inadvertently be- trayed the fact that he had apostacised from his religion while in Java, which drew on him the censure of the church, and the reproaches of his friends. He vowed revenge, and he soon found an instrument for the purpose. "Osborne, whom you know as the steward of my cousin, was at that time my confidential valet. I had picked him up at Calcutta, when my former body-servant died, and had taken him on the representation of an army offi- cer there. He was bold, dexterous, and without scruples, and was pos- sessed of the faculty of imitating, suc- cessfully, any hand-writing that he had ever seen. I had no reason to doubt his fidelity, but still he betrayed me; under what inducement, or for what reason, I have been unable to learn. "The plan of the conspirators was soon laid, and it succeeded. "I received a letter one day, dated at Madrid, from a friend whom I knew to be in Spain, informing me that he was in trouble there, and desiring me to set out for his relief. The letter was urgent, but said nothing of the nature of his difficulties. He was an old 'col- lege-friend, and without further ado I j set out at once for Madrid, leaving my wife in charge of her family, and leav- ing Osborne, who feigned to be too t sick to travel, behind also. c "When I arrived atMadrid, I found the letter was a forgery. My friend I I had gone to Paris two weeks before. I set out on my return, anxious to see my wife, for though I had been ten months a husband, I was fond as ever, and beside, I was about to take the Countess to England, and my journey had been undertaken in the midst of our preparations for departure. "On my return I found that my wife and valet had gone. I found a letter addressed to me, and signed by my wife. She said in this letter that she found she did not love me, and had abandoned me forever under the pro- tection of one for whom she had more regard. Her brother, to whom I show- ed the letter, said that he had noticed her in conference with Osborne the night before they disappeared, but thought nothing of it then, and swore he would pursue the fugitives, and wipe out the dishonor in their hearts' blood. Don Estevan and I came to London to intercept the vessel. We failed in our object; for the ship had parted with her passengers at Puddle- ford. where a sloop for Havre had put in for repairs, and the couple took pas- sage in that for France. It was use- less to pursue them. I sought my home for a day only, bade my mother farewell, and departed to be absent, with rare intervals, for many years. "You cannot wonder, any of you, after this, that I never cared to ac- knowledge the marriage. I never en- deavored to discover the after fate of my wife, for she was dead to me, and forever." 8 "You did right, beyond doubt" said Sir Charles Berkely, at length, when the silence of the Earl seemed to invite comment. I felt relieved by the close of the narrative, for before it closed I had be- gun to have a horrible suspicion. The Earl went on. "I did wrong, Sir Charles, but I was deceived. My wife, like myself, was the victim of a base plot. She had re- ceived a letter the day after my depar- ture for Madrid, dated on the way-it was a forgery of my handwriting-in- forming her that I had meddled with Spanish politics, and my only hope of escape from trouble was to fly the country. It directed hor to place her- self in charge of Osborne, who would conduct her to England, where I would meet her. A vessel was to sail from Cadiz that week, and Osborne engaged passage for her and her maid, and they left under cover of the night; the un- usual proceeding being covered by some story to the master of the ship, invented by Osborne. Unknown to his sister, Don Estevan was cognisant of the plot, a party to it, and to wreck my happiness, did not scruple to blast the reputation of his sister, or at least to run the risk of her disgrace. "The ship was bound to London, but sprang a leak in the channel, and was obliged to put into Puddleford. Here Osborne, after misleading the captain with atstory of taking passage 1 in the sloop to Havre, took a convey- ance to Puttenham, and hired Sharp's house, one room of which he furnished for my wife's accommodation, leaving i her there, while he sought lodgings for - himself at an inn. My unfortunate a wife, excited, not knowing the lan. t guage, in effect, a prisoner, was taken with premature labor, and gave birth j to a son. That birth, Ambrose, cost d your mother her life." There was a general murmur of sur- a prise when the Earl concluded, and I was congratulated on 'the discovery of to e my birth. The Earl went on to say- "Here is the portrait, in miniature, s of your mother, and all can see that the s resemblance between you and her is striking. Her brother and she were - very much alike. Besides, the ring t and trinkets were gifts of mine to her; - they were made for me in Sumatra, and the letters were put on by the jeweler, f without my knowledge,. he supposing D that as a great English nobleman I must be a prince in my own country, at least. I am convinced that you are my son; the story of Don Estevan, whom I met in Mexico since, confirms it; but I desire to make it surer. Bring Mr. Osborne in." Osborne was brought into the room in charge of two constables. I ex- pected to-see him crest-fallen. On the contrary, he was apparently triu - phant. The Earl addressed him- "Osborne, you know what charges are against you for peculation, con- spiracy and forgery. The evidence is sufficient to convict you, and yon can. not escape penal servitude, except through my mercy. I am willing to abandon these charges and set you free, if you answer me a few questions truly." "I may not choose to do that?v "We shall see." At that moment a messenger came in with a note for Sir John Penreath, who left the room. The CountessDow. ager and Gifford entered at the same time. "Now," said the Earl, " what was your motive for betraying my confi- dence?" "I will answer that question last of all." "Verywell. The next is, Mr. Gut- tenberg received from you a male in- page: 134-135[View Page 134-135] fant. Whose child was that?" "I can answer that readily. It was that of Brigida, your wife's maid, and the father was said to be Don Estevan de Cabarrus. Your wife's child was still-born." This was an unexpected answer, and accounted for the likeness. I felt my heart sink, but at the next moment the story of Dr. Pascoe came to my recol- lection. I broke the silence. '; Mr. Osborne," I said, "I have not hitherto meddled in this investigation; but I have something to say and some- thing to ask. Dr. Pascoe attended my mother. Shall I summon him to des- cribe his patient? If I am only the offspring of a servant, why was the packet given to your fellow-conspira- tor, and, referring to me, destroyed?" "Your story is false," broke in the Countess Dowager. "This young gen- tleman has the Marston ear. That mark is peculiar to our family. Iknew him from the first; but I never be- trayed my knowledge, for I thought his mother had dishonored my son and herself. Now that her honor is clear- ed, I own him for my grandson, for such I am assured he is." "Those who desire to deceive them- selves can always find enough evi- dence," retorted Osborne. "What have I to gain by a lie? His lordship has trumped up charges against me that it may be difficult to disprove. I have only to speak as you wish-to satisfy your desire-and I am free. 1 do not choose to lie, even to save my- self." It looked reasonable enough, and doubt began to crawl into the minds of all. Sir John had entered the room meanwhile, accompanied by a female strange to all but Archbold and my. self. Osborne leaned against the back of an easy chair, cool, self-possessed and triumphant. The strange female -it was Potter's wife-confronted him. "How," said she, in Spanish, "Se- nor Osborne, does it come that you did not give the child to his father, as you promised? I would not consent to leave England for Spain until you swore solemnly to undo the wrong thus far, in a year's time. Have you done it? Yon talk of him being my child. Liar I My husband shall strike you to the earth, and choke the falsehood out of you 1" "Brigida!" "Yes ; Brigida Mejia that was; Bridget Potter now. You thought me dead. Earl cf Landys, the babe de- livered to the strange Englishman in the old house-yonder he stands-is your lawful son. I am ready to swear it on the Evangelists of God. Base dog, Osborne, instead of sending me to Spain, as you promised, you put me on board of a vessel bound to Ameri- ca. You thought I would never come back, Senor Osborne; but I am here to confound you. -My son, indeed I Liar 1" "It strikes me," said Mr. Blodgett, "that with this evidence we have no other use for this fellow. Officers, re- move him." "One moment, if you please, Mr. Blodgett," returned Osborne. "I have a word to say to you, Earl of Landys. You asked me a question just now I will answer why I betrayed you. I loved Carlota de Cabarrus-loved her, my lord, as you, with your cold heart never did, never could have loved any one. I would have won her too, but for you. I had served you faithfully: I had a chance of bettering my for- tune-of taking the position of a gen- tleman, to which my culture and my talents entitled me-yes, and my fa- mily-for though I took menial ser- vice, my connections were good as your lordship's own. But you stepped in as my rival Your wealth, your ti- tle, outhid me; but I vowed revenge, and I had it. I sent you a wretched man, to wander for years. You came back to find your fortune impaired too. Your broad acres are there-I could not destroy them. But the personal property, the heir-looms of the family, the jewels, the plate, have all been sold, and the proceeds are placed where you- can never reach them. I have taken good care of that. And you can transport me-possibly. I take with- me one comfort-the Countess of Lan- dys, the wife of a proud peer, your wife, my lord, died like a pauper and was buried like a brute!" The angry wretch was removed from the room. That night, by some means, he escaped from jail, (the jailor plead ignorance, but he was much richer af- terwards, they said) and hurrying by night to Puddleford, chartered a fish- ing smack, and escaped across the channel. He was never again seen in England. We afterwards learned that he sailed from Havre to the United States, went out West, engaged suc- cessfully in land speculations, became the President of some railway corpora- tion there, and when last heard of was looked upon as a model of probity and honor. Poetical justice would require that he should lose some portion of his ill-gotten gains. So far, however, po- etical justice has not been done, and from present appearances is not likely to be. When he had been taken from the room, I turned to Espinel: "Count," said I, "do you remember your promise?" "Yes," he answered, smiling, "but you will need your father's approval." "Pray," said the Earl, smiling in turn, "in what is the parental approval required?" I took Zara by the hand, and led her, blushing, to the Earl. "Father," said I, demurely, "to pre- vent any farther controversy about the title-" "Oh!" he exclaimed, as he bent for- ward and imprinted a kiss on the brow of Zara, "I get a daughter then, as well as a son." And now seven years have passed, and brought many changes. My fa- ther, the Dowager Countess of Landys, and the Count de Espinel are no more. I am sitting now in the library of Lan- dys Castle, writing. A servant has just brought a letter sealed with black. That lady who sits yonder, with a very little girl at her feet, and two boys standing by her knee, is Zara, Countess of Landys. No; I think she is not. She is a Countess no longer. The elder dignity has at last fallen to our house, for by the superscription on that letter, with its black wax and black edges, I learn' that Ambrose Fecit, foundling and printer's apprentice, is now the Duke of Sellinghourne. 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