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32X

The Unseen Bridegroom;

OR,

WEDDED FOR A WEEK.

MAY AGNES FLEMING.

-♦♦♦-

entered aceordtno to A<^ of CongreM, in ihe year 1889, bv

DAVIS & El-VKRSON,

■:n tht OffiM (kf the Clerk of the Dietrivl Curl of the United States, in and fo:

the KaHe, * District of ftn7WyJta«i«.

CHICAGO :

M. A. Don Oil uE k Co.

THE UNSEEN BRIDEGROOM.

CHAPTER I.

THE WALRAVEN BALL.

A DARK November afternoon — wet, and windy, and wild.
The Now York streets were at their worst — sloppy, slippery,
iitid sodden; tlio sky lowcriii;? over those murky streets one
uniform pall of inky gloom. A bad, desolate, blood-chilling
November afternoon.

And yet Mrs. Wal raven's ball was to come off to-night, and
it was rather hard upon Mrs. Wal raven that the elements
should make a dead set at her after this fa.sliion.

The ball was to bo one of the most brilliant affairs of the
season, and all Fifth Avenue was to bo there in its glory.

Fifth Avenue was above caring for anything so common-
place as the weather, of course; but still it would have been
pleasantcr, and only a handsome thing in the clerk of the
weather, considering Mrs. Walraven had not given a ball for
twenty years b Tore, to have burnished up the sun, and
brushed away the clouds, and shut up that ioy army of winter
winds, and turned out as neat an article of weather as it is
possible in the nature of November to turn out.

Of course, Mrs. Walraven dwelt on New York's statelieat
avenue, in a big brown-stone palace that was like a palace in
an Eastern story, with its velvet carpets, its arabesques, its
liligree work, it's chairs, atil tables, and sofas touched up and
inlaid with gold, and cushioned in silks of gorgeous dyes.

And in all Fifth Avenue, and in all New York City, there
were not half a dozen old women of sixty half so rich, half so
arr(.gant, or half so ill-tempered as Mrs. Ferdinand Walraven.

On thi^ bad November afternoon, while the lain and sleet
lashod the lofty windnsvs, and the shrill winds whistled around
the gables, Mrs. Ferdimitid Walraven's only son sat in his
chamber, staring out ot the window, and smoking no end of
cigars.

THE UNSEEN BRIDEOROOM.

Fifth Avcmio, in the raw and rii'ny twiliu'iif, i-i not i\w
Kprightlicst >s[)i)t on earth, and thoro was very liiliu for Mr.
Walruvon to gazo at except the stages rattling up the pave,
and some belated newsboys orying their vvaies.

rorhaps those satue little ill-clad novvobjys', looking up
through <lio slanting rain, and seeing the well-dressed gentle-
man bchiinl the ricli draperies, thou^dit it ruiisl be a lino thing
to be Mr. Ctrl Walraven, Iieir to a half a million of money
and the handsomest house in Tsew York.

rorliai)8 vou might have ihoiiglit so, too, glancing into that
lofty chamb.M-, with its glowing hangings of ruby and gold,
its exqui;si(e pictures, its inlaid tables, its twinkling cht 'ide-
lier, its perfumed warmth, and glitter, and luxury.

]jut Carl Walraven, lying back in a big easy-chair, in slip-
pers and dressing-gown, smelling his costly cheroots, looked
out at the dismal evening with the blackest of bitter, black
scowls.

"Confound the weatherl" muttered Mr. Walraven, be-
tween strong, white teeth. " Why the deuco does it always
rain on the twenty-lifth of November? Huvonteen years ago,
on the twenty-llfth of this horrible month, I was in Paris, and
Miriam was — Miriam bo hanged!" Ho sto])i>ed abruptly,
and pitched his cigar out of the window. " I'ou'vo turned
over a new leaf, Carl Walraven, and wliat the demon do you
mean by going back to the old leaves? You've come homo
from foreign parts to your old and doting mother — I thought
she would be in her dotage by this time — and you're a respon-
sible citizen, and an eminently rich and respectable man.
Carl, my boy, forget the past, and behave yourself tor the
future; as the copy-books say: ' Be virtuous and you will be
ha})py.' "

no laughed to himself, a laugh unpleasant to hear, and tak-
ing up another cigar, wont on smoking.

He had been awjiy twenty years, this Carl Walraven, over
the workl, nobody knew where. A reckless, self-willed, head-
strong boy, he had broken wild and run away from home at
ninetctii, abruptly and without warning. Abruptly ami with-
out warning he had returned home, one line morning, twenty
years after, and walking vp the palatial step?*, shabby, and
grizzled, and wcalher-bratcn, had strode straight to the
majestic pr(*euco of the mi;itres8 of the house, with out-
■tretched hand and a cool " How aro you, mother?"

And Mrs. A\'al raven knew her son. He had left her a
fiery, liandtiome, bright-faced lad, and this man before her
was gray and blacK-bearded and weather-beaten and brown.

THE rXSEEN TiRIDrnROOV.

but she kiU'SV him. Sho Inul risnii with a shrill ciy of jdv,
uiul hold optin hor uriiis.

" I've como back, you see, uiother." Mr. Carl Kuid, family,
" like tlio ])roverbial bad shilling. I've grown tirod knocking
about this big world, and now, at nino-and-tUirLy, with an
('ni[)ty ])ur80, a light heart, a spotless conscionce, and a huuii.1
digestion, I'm going to settle down and walk in the way f
should go. You arc glad to have your ne'er-do-well back
again, I hope, mother?"

(ilaill A widowed mother, lonely and old, glad to have an
only son back! Mrs. Walravon had tightened those witherc.l
arms about hiiri closer and closer, with only that one shrill
cry:

"Oh, Carl— my son! my son!''

" All right, mother! And now, if there's anything in this
house to eat, I'll eat it, because I've been fasting since yester-
day, and haven't a stiver between me and eternity. 15y
George! this isn't sucli a bad harbor for a shipwrecked
mariner to cast anchor in. I've been over the world, mother,
from Dan to — What's-hor-nuinc! I've been rich and I'vo
been poor; I've been loved and J've been hated; I've had my
fling at everything good and bad under the shining sun, and
T come home from it all, sub-cribidg to the doctrine: ' There's
nothing new and nothing true.' And it don't Kignify; it's
empty as egg-.sheilrf, the whole of it."

That vv;is tho story of the prodigal son. Mr.-;. AValravcn
asked no (juestions- She w"..-> a wise old woman; she took her
son and was thankful. It had hapiK'ned late in Oct.>I)er, this
sudden arrival, and now, late in November, the fatted calf
was killed, and Mrs. Walraven's dear live h'.indred friends
bidden to the feast.

And they came. They had all heard the story of the
widow's heir, so long lost, and now, dark and mysterious as
Count Lara, returned to lord it in his ancestral halls. Ho
was a very hero of romance — a wealthy hero, too — and all the
pretty man -craps on the avenue, baited with lace and roses,
silk and jewels, were coming to-night to angle for thisdiizzling
prize.

T'he long-silent drawing-rooms, shrouded for twenty years
in hoUand and darkness, were one blaze of light at last.
Flowers bloomed everywhere; musicians, up in a gilded gal-
lery, discoursed heavenly music; there was a conservatory
where alabaster lamps made a silver mooidight in a modern
Carden of Kden; there was a supper-table s])road and waiting,
a feast for the go Is and Sybarites; and there was Mrs. Wal-

THE UNSEEN BRIDEOROOIC.

raTcn, in black velvet ami point luce, upright am] stutcly, iln-
spite her sixty years, with a diarnoml Htar of fabulous prioe
aolaae on her breast. And there by her h'hW., tall, ami dark,
aad dignified, stood her only Hon, the prodigal, tho repontunt,
the wealthy Carl Walraven.

" Not liandsome," said Miss lUandie Oleander, raiding her
glass, " but eminently interesting. He looks like the htrf) of
a sensation novel, or a modern melodrama, or one of Lord
Byron's poems. Does he ilanc^e, and will he a.sk me, 1 won-
der?"

Yes, the dusky hero of the night did danoe, and did ask
Miss lilanche Oleander. A tall, gray-eyed, im[H'riou8 sort of
beauty, ttiis Miss Blanche, t;even-and-tvventy years of age, and
frightfully pussee, more youthful belles said.

Mr. Walraven danced tho very first dance witli i\li(]s Olean-
der, to her infinite but perfectly concealed delight.

)U can imagine the Cor8uir, whirling in a rapid redowa
wit lora," Miss Oleander afterward said, " you have Mr.

Wj»ri,,(;n and mj'self. There were about eighty (Juinares
gazing enviously on. ready to poniard me, every one of them,
if they dared, and if they were not sucii miserable little fools
and cowards. When they cease to smell of bread and butter,
Mr. Walraven may possibly deign to look at them."

It seemed as if the dashing Blanche had waltzed herself
straight into the allections of tho new-found heir, for he de-
voted himself to her in the most prononrc manner for the first
three hours, and afterward led her in to supper.

Miss Blanche sailed along uerene, uplifted, splendidly calm;
the little belles in lace, and roses, and pearls, tl uttered and
twittered like angry doves; and Mme. Walraven, from tho
heights of her hostess-throne, looked aslant at her velvet and
diamonds with uneasy old eyes.

" The last ot all you should have selec.'ted,'" she said, xvay-
laying her son after supper. " A wojnan without a heart,
Carl— a modern Minerva. 1 have no wish to interfere with
you, my son; 1 shall call the day happy that brings me your
wife, but not Blanche Oleander — not that cold-blooded, bold-
faced, overgrown grenadier."

Madame hissed out the words between a set of spiteful, false
teeth, and glared, as women do glare, upon the gray-eyed
Blanche. And Carl listened, and laughed sardonically.

" A woman without a heart. So much the better, mother;
the less heuit the more head; and 1 like your clever, dashing
women, who are big and buxom, and able to take care of
themselves. Uon'l forget, mother mine, I liaven'fc proposed

THE UN8EEN BRIDHQROOM.

to the Bpurkling Blanche, nnd I don't think I shall — to-night.
Yon wouldn't have mo fall at the feot of tliose niealy-wiiigort
moths tlr.ttering uronml us, with heads softer than thoir po::
little hoards— you woiililti't, I hopu?"

With wuich Mr. Wiilravon wi'iit strai^'ht back to Miss
Oh'andor aiul asked hor to danco tlio la!icers.

Miss Okarilor, turning with inolTablo calm from a bevy of
rosi!-n»l)ed antl whito-rol)''d yi'Ung ladies, said, ** Yes," as if
Mr. Walraveii was no moro than any other man, and stood
u]) to take his urm.

Jjut there is many a 8li|). Miss Oleander and Mr. Walraveu
never danced that particular set, for just then there came s
ring at. the door-bell so pi-aling and imperious that it sounded
sharply oven through the noisy biill-roorn.

" The Marble (iuost, surely," Jilanche said, " and very de-
termined to bo heard."

]'>e)'ore the words were well uttered there was a south! of aa
altercation in the hull — one of the tall footmen pathetically
protesting, and a shrill female voice refusing to listen to those
plaintive protests. Then there suddenly fell peace.

" After a storm there cometh a calm," Mr. Walraven said.
" Miss Oleander, shall we move on? Well, Johnson, what is
it?"

For Johnson, tho taller of the two tall footmen, stood be-
fore them gazing beseechingly at his master.

" It's a woman, sir, all wet and dirty, and horrid to look
at. She says she will see you, and there she stands, and Wil-
son nor mo we can't do nothing with her. If you don't come
she says she'll walk up hero and make you come. Them,"
said Johnson, plaintively, " were her own langui'ge."

lilunche Oleander, gazing up at her companion's face, saw
it chfuiging to a startled, dusky white.

"Some beggar — some troublesome tramj>, I daro say."
]{ut he droi)peti 'ler arm abruptly as he said it. " Excuse mo
a moment. Miss Oleander. I had better see her to prevent
noise. Kow, then, Johnson."

Mr. Johnson led the way down a grand, sweeping staircase,
rich in gilding and carving, through a paved and vaulted hall,
«nd out into a l<>fty vestibule.

There a woman stood, di'ip|>ing wot and wretchedly clad,
as miserable-looking a creature as ever walked the bad city
streets. Tho Hare of the gas-jets shone full upon her — upou
a haggard face lighted up with two blazing eyes,

*• /or God's sake! Miriam!"

THE UNRRKN llRIDKOROOlf.

Carl Walravon etiirtod back, as if struck by tn iron hand.
1'he woman took a stop forward aiul confrontod him.

"Yes, Carl Walravon — Jl^irium! You diil wel too come
at onco. 1 have something to say to you. 8h»ill 1 say it
horo?"

Thiit was all Messrs. Johnson and Wilson ever heard, for
Mr. Walravon opened the library door and waved her in, fol-
lowed, and shut the door again with a sounding slam

'* Now, then," he demanded, imperiously, *' what do you
want? I thought you wore dead and — "

"Don't say that oth' word, Mr. Walravon; it is too for-
cible. You only hopad it. I am not dead. It'b a great deal
worse with me than that."

" What uo you want?" Mr. Walraven repeated, steadily,
though his swarth face was dusky gray with race or fear, or
both. " What do you come here for to-night? lias the mas-
ter you serve helped you bodily, that you follow and llnd me
even here? Are you not afraid 1 will throttle you for your
pains?"

"Not the least."

She said it with a composure the best bred nf his mother's
guests could not have surpassed, standing bolt upright before
him, her dusky eyes of lire burning on his face.

" 1 am not afraid of you, Mr. Walraven (that's your name,
isn't it? — and a very tine-sounding name it is), but you'r^B
afraid of me — afraid to the core of your bitter, black heart.
You stand there dressed like a king, and I stand here in rags
your kitchen scullions would scorn; but for all that, Carl
Walraven — for all that, you're my slave, and you know it!"

Her eyes blazed, her hands clinched, her gaunt form seemed
to tower and grow tall with the sense of her triumph and her
l)Ower.

" Have you anything else to say?" inquired Mr. Walraven,
sullenly, " before 1 call my servants and have you turned
out?"

" You dare not," retorted the woman, fiercely — " you dare
not, coward! boaster! and you know it! I have a great deal
more to say, and I will say it, and you will hear me before we
part to-night. I know my power, Mr. Carl V^alraven, and I
mean to use it. Do you think 1 need wear these rags? Do
you think I need tramp the black, bad streets, night after
night, a homeless, houf-cless wretch? No; not if I (;hose, not if
I ordered — do you hear? — ordered my aristocratic friend, Mr.
Walravon, of Fifth Avenue, to empty his plethoric purse it.

TIIK UNSKKN IlKIDEfiUOOH.

iiiy 'lirty pookot. Ah, yes," with a shrill laugli, " Miriam
knows lior power!"

" Are >o'i almost don'?" Mr. Walravon ropliwl, calmly.
" Ilavo you come Ikmo tor anything but talk? If so, fur
whnt?"

*' Not your monov — bo sure of that. 1 would starvo— I
would (]i<^ fill' (h'ulii of ailrtL' in a kt-nnel — bcfoio I u-oiild oat
a montiiful of bread bou^dii with your gold. I oonic 'or jus-

tilX'l"

".Tustico" — ho lifted a pair of aullen, inriiiii.ng eyes —
*' justice! To whom?"

*' To one whom you have injured l)eyond reparation — Mary
Dane!'

She hissed the name in a KJiarji, aibilant whisper, and the
man recoiled as if an adder had Htung him.

" What do you mean?" he asked, with dry, parched lips,
" Why do \ou come here to torment mo? Mary Dane is
dead."

" Mary Dane's daughter lives not twenty miles from where
we stand. .Justice to the dead is beyond the power of even
the wealthy Carl Walra\<*n. .Iustif;e to the living can yet bo
rendered, and shall be to the uttermost farthing."

"What do you want?"

" I want you to find Mary Dane, and bring her here, edu-
cate her, dre.ss her, treat as your own child."

" Where shall I lind her?"

" At K , twenty miles from here."

" Who is she? What is she?"

" An actress, traveling about with a strolling troupe; an
actress since her skxth year — on the stage eleven years to-
night. This is her seventeenth birthday, as you know."

"Is this all?"

*' All at ])re8ent. Are you prepared to obey, or shall I — "

" There!" interrupted Mr. Walraven, " that will de.
There is no 7ieed of threats, ]\Iiriani — I am very willing to
obey you in this. If I had known Mary Dane — wliy the deuce
did you give her that name?^ — was on this continent, I would
have Imnted her up of my own accord. 1 would, upon my
honor!"

" Swear by something you possess," the woman said, with
a sneer; " honor you never had since I first knew you."

"Come, come, iMiriam," said Mr. Walraven, uneasily,
" don't bo cantankerous, lict by-goncs be by-gones. I'm
sorry for the past— 1 am indeed, and am willing to do well lor

THE UNSEEN BRIDEGROOM.

the future. Sit down and be sociable, and tell me all about
it. ll\jw camo you to let the little one go on the stage first?"

Miriam spurned away the protlered chair.

*' I spurn it as I would your dead bodv if it lay before me,
Carl Waliavon! Hit down with you? Isever, if my life de-
pended on it! The child became an actress bec:uise I could
keep her no longer — I couldn't keep myself — and because she
had the voice ami face of an angel — poor little wretch! The
manager of a band of strolling pla5'ers, passing through our
village, heard her baby voice singing some baby song, and
pounced upon her on the instant. We struck a bargain, and
I sold her, Mr. Walraven— yes, sold her."

" You wretch! Well?"

" Well, I went to see her occasionally afterward, but not
often, for the strolling troupe were here, there, and every-
where — from pillar to post. But I never lost sight of her,
and I saw her grow up a pretty, slender, bright-eyed lass,
well dressed, well fed, and hiippy — j)erfectly lia[)py in her
wandering life. Her great-grandmother — old Peter Daiie's
wife — was a gypsy, Mr. Walraven, and I dare say the wild
blood broke out. She liked the life, and became the star of
the little band — the queen of the troupe. 1 kept her in view
even when she crossed the Atlantic last year, and paid her a
visit a week ago to-night."

" Humph!" was Carl Walraven's comment. " Well,
Mistress Miriam, it might have been worse; no thanks to you,
though. And now — what does she know of her own story?"

"Nothing."

" What?"

" Nothing, I tell you. Her name h Mary Dane, and she is
seventeen years old on the twenty-fifth of Novombtjr. Her
father and mother are dead — poor but honest people, of
course — and I am Aunt Miriam, earning a respcL'tablo living
by wasliing clothes and scrubbing fioors. That is what she
knows. How much of that is U'ue, Mr. Walraven?"

" Then she never heard of nie?"

"She has never hud that .iiinfortiMie yet; it has been re-
served for yourself. You are a rich man, and you will go to

K , and you will see her play, and will take a fatiey to

her, and adopt h(!r as your daughter. There is the skeleton
for you to clothe with fiesh. "

" And suppose she refuses?"

" She will not refuse. She likes handsome dresses and
jewelry as well as any other little fool of seventeen. Yon
make her the olTer, and my word for it, it will be accepted."

)

■

THE rN"SEf:X BHITIEOnOOM.

*' 1 will go, Miriam. Upon my word 1 feel curious to am
the witch. Who is nhv like, Miriam — inauinia or me?"

The womtui'n eyoH lld,i?heil fire.

" Xnt, like you, you son of Satunl If yhe was 1 would have
f"tr:»«i.^l.:i h- r in hor cradlol jjtt nio go, for the air you
hrcathe! i!iok(3B rnol ])aro to disobov at your jicrill"

" 1 will Ktart for K to-morrow. tShe will be here — my

adr)])ted dau-hter — bi'foru the week ends."

"Good! And thi.s oM juother of yours, will slie bo kind
to the girl? I won't have her treated badly, you undeistaiid."

" My mother will do whatev^jr her son wi-dies. She would
bo kind to a young gonlla if 1 said so. Don't fear for your
niooe — she will be treated well."

" ]jet it be so, or beware! A blood-hound on your track
would be less deadly than I! I will be here again, and yet
again, to sej for myself that you keep your word."

She strode to the door, opened it, and stood in the illiimi*
natud hall. Johnson just had time to vanish from the key-
liolo and no more. Down the stair-way pealed the wild, mel-
ancholy music of a German waltz; from the dining-room
came the clink and jingle of silver, and china, and glass.
The woman's haggard face filled with scorn and bitterness as
she gave one fleeting, backward glance.

'• 'J'hey say there is a just and avenging Heaven, yet Carl
Walraven is master of all this. Wealth, love, and honor for
him, and a nameless grave for her; the streets, foul and
deadly, for me. The mill of the gods may grind sure, but it
grinds fearfully slow — fearfully slow!"

I'hey were the last words Oarl Walraven heard her utti r.
She opened the hou=o door, gathered her t' .ulbare shawl
doaer around her, and fluttered away in the wiid, wet night.

ClIAPTEli II.

" CRICKET."

The little provincial theater was crowded from pit to dome
— long tiers of changing faces and luminous eyes. There was
a prevalent odor of stale tobacco, and orange-peel, and bad
gas; and there was bustle, and Jioise, and laughter, and a
harsh coUeotiou of stringed instruments grinding out the over-
hire.

'i'here were stamps and calls for the tawdry curtain to rise,
when a gentleman entered, saunterrd u}) to a front seat, took
up a bill and began to read it-— a tall, middle-aged, rather dis-

THE UXPEEX BRIDEfJKOOM.

tinji;iii8lu:d-lookinr!; num. blimk and bnardail, with pieroiug
eyes, superliwc elolhes, and a general aiisLorraLic air about
him.

P'eo|)le })aiisnd to look again at bin) — for be was a stranger
there — but nobody ivoognizHil him, and Mr. Carl Wulraveu
read his bill undisturbiMl.

The play was " Janehon the C'rii^ket," and the bill an-
nounced, in very big c'ai)itals, that the part of l-'anchon was
to be playtd by that "distinguished and beautiful young
English actress, Miss iMollie Dane."

Mr. "Walraven saw no more; he sat holding the strip of
paper before him, and staring at the one name as if the fat
letters fascinated him—" Fanchon, ]\Iiss MoUie Dane,"

A shrill-voiced bell tinkled, ami Ihj drop-curtain went up,
and the household of l''ather Barbeaud was revealed. There
was a general settling into seats, hats ilevv oif, the noises ceased,
and the play began.

A moment or two, and, in rags and tatters, hair streaming,
and feet bare, on the stage bounded Fanchon, the Cricket.

There was an uproarious greeting. E\idently it was not
Miss Dane's first appearance before that audience, and still
more evidently she was a prime favorite.

Mr. Walraven dropped his bill, poised his lorgnette, and
prepared to stare his fill.

She was very well worth looking at, this clear-voiced Mollie
Dane — through the tatters and unkempt hair lie could see that.
The stars in the frosty November sky without were not
brighter than her d:i'-i<, bright eyes; no silvery music that the
heir of all the A\'alravejis had ever heard was clearer or
sweeter than her free, girlish laugh; no golden sunbinst ever
more beautiful tliati the waving banner of wikl, yellow hair.
Molho J)ane stood before him a beauty born.

Kvery nerve in ('arl Walraven's body thrilled as he looki^d
at her. How lovely that face! llow sweet that voice, that
laugh! How eminently well she acted!

He had seen women of whom the world raved play that
Tery part; but he had never, no, never seen it better ])lay('d
than ho saw it to-night.

" She will make the world ring with her name if she ad-
lieres to the stagey" Carl Walraven said to himself, enthusi-
astically; "and she never will play anything better than she
jilays the 'Cricket.* She is l-'anchon herself — saucy, daring,
generous, irresistible Fanchon! And she is beautiful as the
angels above. "

The ])lay went on; Fanchon danced, and sobbed, and sung,

THE UNSEEN BRIDEGROOM.

and wopt, and was rnischiovous as a scrutohing kitten, and
gentle as a tiittlp-dovo; took all the hearts by storm, and was
triiimphandy reuiiiti'd to lier lover at hist.

T don't know how iniiny yonng men in tliat audience were
left without an atom oi heart, how many would hi.ve given
their two cars to be in handsome Landry IJarboaud's boots.

The roof nearly rose with the thunders of applause wlien
llie curtain fell, and (!arl Walraven got up with tlie rest, his
head whirling, his brain dizzy.

" (rood Heaven!" he thought, stumbling along the dark,
chilly streets to his hotel, " what a perfectly dazzling little
witcii she is I Was there ever sucii another s])arkling, bewil-
dering little fairy in the world before?"

Mr. Walraven spent the night in a fe\er of impatience.
Tie was one of those men who, when they set. their hearts on
anything, tiiid no peace, no rest, until they obtain it. lie had
come hero partly tlirough curiosity, partly because he dare not
refuse Miriaiu; iie had seen Mary Dane, and lol at first sight
he was dazzled and bewitched.

Next morning, at breakfast, Mr. Walraven obtained all the
information ho de;-;ired concerning Miss Mollie Dane. Home
halt dozen of the actors were stopping at the hotel, and j)roved
very willing, under the inlluonce of brandy and water, to give
the free-handed stranger Miss Dane's biograj)hy as far as they
know it.

8ho was just as charming olT the stage as on; just as pretty,
just as saucy, just as captivating. ISho was wild and full of
tricks as an unbroken colt; but she was a thoroughly good
girl, for all that, lavish of her money to all who needed, and
snul)bing lovers incontineiitly, 8he was stopping up the
street at another hotel, and she would in all probability be
easily accessible al)out noon.

Tho seedy, stroUitig players drank their diluted brandy,
iSnioked their cigars, and cold Mr. Walraven all this. They
ratlier laughed at the New ^'ork millionaire when ho was out
of sight. He had fallen in love with pretty, blue-eyed Mollie,
no doul)t, and that was a very stale story with the shabby
])layers.

Noon came, and, spcckless and respectable to the last de-
grco, Mr. Walraven presented himself at tho other hotel, and
sent up his card with a waiter to Miss Dane.

The waiter ti.^hereil Inui into the hotel parlor, cold and prim
ria it is in the nature <»| liotel parlors t(> be. Mr. Walraven eat
down and stared vaguely at the papered walls, rather at a loss

THE UNSEEN BRIDEGROOM.

as to what ho should say to this piquant MoIIie, and wonder-
ing how he would feel if she laughed at him.

" And (?he will laugh," he thought, with a mental groan;
" she's the sort of girl that laughs at everything. And she
may refuse, too; there is no making sure of a woman; and
then what will Miriam say?"

He paused with a gasp. There was a quick patter of light
feet down the stairs, the last two cleared with a jump, a swish
of silken skirts, a little gush of perfume, and then, bright as
a flash of light, blue-eyed MoHie stood before him. She held
his card in her fingers, and all the yellow hair fell over her
plump shoulders, like amber sunshine over snow.

" Mr. Carl Walraven?" Miss Dane said, with a smilo and a
graceful little bow.

Mr. Carl Walraven rose up and returned that pretty court-
CBV with a salute still and constrained.

'"Yes, Miss Dane."

" Pray resume your seat, Mr. Walraven," with an uiry
wave of a little white hand. " To what do I owe this visit?"

She fluttered into a big black arm-chair as she spoke, folded
the little white hands, and glanced across with brightly ex-
pectant eyes.

" You must think this call, from an utter stranger, rather
singular. Miss Dane," Mr. Walraven began, considerably at n
loss.

Miss Dane laughed.

" Oh, dear, no! not at all — the sort of thing I am used to,
I assure youl May 1 ask its purport?"

*' Miss Dane, you must parilon me," said Mr. Walraven,
plunging desperately head first into his mission, " but I saw
you play last night, and I have — yes, 1 have taken a violent
fancy to you."

Miss Mullie Dane never flinched. The wicked sparkle in
the dancing eyes grew a trifle wickeder, perhaps, but that was
all.

'* Yes," she said, composedly; '* go on."

'* You take it very coolly," remarked the gentleman, rather
taken aback himself. " You don't appear the least sur-
prised."

" Of course not! I told you I was used to it. Never knew
a gentleman of taste to see mo play yet and not take a violent
fancy to me. Pray goon."

If Miss Dane wislied, in her wickedness, to utterly discon-
eert her middle-aged atlminr, she could not have adopted a

THE L'KRSEN BRIDEGROOM.

surer plun. For fully live minutes he sat staring in hopeless
Bilencft.

" Have you anything more to eay?'* queried the dauntless
Mollie, pulling out her watrih. " Because, if you have, you
will [tlease say it at once. My time is precious, I assure yoa
Kelioarsal is at thrt'e, and after rehearsal there are the
spangles to sew on my dress, and after that — "

" 1 beg your pardon, Miss Dane; I have a great deal more
to say, and if you vvdl listen you need never attend rehearsal
again, and never sow on spangles any more."

" Indeed!"

Tlie blue eyes opened very wide in a fixed, unwinking
stare.

" I like you very much. Miss Dane — so much that I think
it is a thousand jiities you should waste your youth, and
beauty, and gi'iiius on desert air. 80 — "

" i'es," said Miss Dane — " so you have fallen in love with
me at first sight. Is that what you are trying to say?"

" Xol" responded Mr. Walraven, emphatically. " I am
not in the least in love with you, and never mean to be — .a
that way."

" Oh, in what way, then, Mr. Walraven?"

" I am a rich man. Miss Dane, and a lonely man very
often, and I should like to have a daughter to cheer my old
age — a daughter like you, Mistress Cricket, saucy and bright,
and so pretty that it will be a jileasure only to look at her."

"And a very complimentary papa you will make. Have
you no daughters of your own, Mr. Walraven?"

" None, Miss Mollie. 1 have the misfortune to have no
wife."

And never mean to have?"

•^^ Can't say about that. I may one day."

"And you are quite sure you will never want mo to fill that
Taeant honor?"

" Surer than sure, my dear little girl. I want you only for
my adopted daughter."

" And you nevur saw me before last night?"

" Never," said Carl Walraven, unflinchingly.

" You are a very ricdi man, you say?"

" Very rich — a millionaire— and you shall be my heiress
when I die."

" 1 am afraid 1 shall be a very lonr^ time out of my inherit-
anoo, then. Well, this is a surpi'ise, and you are the oddest
gentleman 1 have met for some time. Please let mo catch my

THE UNSEEN URIDEGKOOM.

breath! You are quite certain you are not ])Iiiyiiig a jiructioal

joke at my expense all this timi

.V"

I im-an precisely

" No! upon my word ami honor, no!
what I say."

" And 8ui)po6ing I say yes — su])posing 1 agree to go with
you, for the inn of the thing, what do you mean to do with
mo, Mr. Wal raven?"

" To treat you as I would a Miss Wal raven of seventeen
years old, if there were such a person; to fill your pockets with
money, and your wardrobe with fine clothes; to give you a
horse to ride, and a piano to [^iay, a carriage to drive in, and
a waiting-maid to scold. What more can 1 do? 1 will give
you masters to teach you everything under the sun. IJalls,
parties, and the opera at will — everything, in short, your
heart can desire."

The starry eyes sparkled, the rose-tinted cheeks ilushed with
delight.

" I can not believe it; it is too good to be true. Oh, you
oan't mean it, Mr. Walravr/i. No ono ever had their wildest
flight of fancy realized in this manner."

" You shall if you will become my daughter. If my
promise proves false, are you not free to return? There are
no ogres nowadays to carry young ladies off to enchanted

Palaces and eat them. Come with me to my home in New
"ork. If I fail in aught 1 have jjromiaed, why, return here."
MoUie brought her two little palms togetlier with an enthu-
siastic slap.

" I'll do it, Mr. Walraven! I know it's all a dream and an
illusion, but still I'll see the dream to the end; that is, if you
can make it all right with Mr. Ilarkner, the mamiger. "

" I can make it all rightl" exclaimed Mr. Walraven.
" Money can do anything under the sun. lie has his price,
like other men, and I can pay it. If Mr. Ilarkner and I come
to terms, will you be ready to start with mo to-morrow,
Mollie?"

" Quite ready. But you won't make it right. Ho will
never let me go; you will see."

" I am not afraid. I will call upon him at once, and after
the interview I will let you know the result. lie is in the
hoose now, is ho not?"

" Down at the bar, very likely. I will wait for you here."

Mr. Walraven took his hat and left, delighted with his suc-
cess.

The manager was at the bur, as Miss Dane had predicted.

THE UNSEEN I!RIDEGROOM.

H»

and eyed Mr. Wulriiveii suspiciously from liead to foot whoii
ho foiiiid liis husine.ss concerned his star actress.

lie was accustomed to gentlemen fallin^r in love with lior,
and <|uite willing to t;ike lilLlo bribes I'rom tliem; but lie
stared in an}j;ry amazement when he heard what Carl Wal-
raven liad to say.

*' Carry olT Mollie!" cxchiimod Mr. llarkner, "and ado])t
her as your daughterl What do you taivc me for, to believe
such a story as that?"

Mr. Harkner was pretty far gone, and all the more inclined
to be skeptical. Mr. Walraven saw it, and kiiew that appear-
ances were dead against him, and s) swallowed his wratli.

" It is the truth, upon my honor. A[iss])ano believes me
and has consented. Nothing remains but to settle matters
with you."

" I v/on't settle matters! I won't liear of it! 1 won't })art
with mv best aci-resa!"

** Yes you will for u fair price. Come, name the sum;
rili)ay it."

Mr. llarkner ojjcned his eyes. Mr. walraven opened hia
check -book.

" Vou do mean it, then?"

" Don't 1 look as if 1 meant it? Quick, I say! If you
don't look sharj) I will take her without any price!"

" She's a priceless treas^urc!" hiccoughed the numager —
" worth her weight in gold to me, and so — ''

Ho named a sum that made even Carl Walraven wince; but
ho was a great ileal too reckless to ilraw back.

" It is a most cold-blooded extortion," he said; " but you
shall have it. And at your jn-ril you ever interfere with my
adopted daughter afterward."

J to signed the check and Hung it to the nuinager, turned
and went out, and left that individual staring in blank be-
wilderment.

(iolden-haired Molliu wa^ pacing impatiently up and dowE
the parlor when Mr. Walraven walked in again, his face aglow
with triumph.

"It is all right, Mollio. 1 told you 1 was more than a
match for your manager, ^'ou have trotl the boards for the
last time. "

" Excuse me, ]\Ir. Walraven; I am going to tread the
boards again to-night. It is Cricket still. Don't you want to
be enchanted once more?"

" Just us you pleaue. Once is neither here now there.

THE UNSEEN l^RIDKCROOM.

]iut you will bo ro;uly for the ciirht a. ^i. train to-morrour^
Mollie?"

" [ have pvomisc'd, Mv. Wiilr;iven, aiul 1 always keep my
word. So Mr. iltirktier lias consirittil? Kovv, that is not
flattering, is it? What winning: ways you must possess to
make all the worl<l do as you siiyl"

Mr. Wah-aveu held up his jnirse, gold shining tiirough its
silken meshes.

" IJehold the niiigie key to every heart. Cricket I Here,
you shall be my purse-l)euiei- now."

lie tossed if. into htr lap. Mollie's blue eyos sparkled.
She was only seventeen, poor child, and she liked money for
what money brouuht.

" I shall leave yuu now," Mr. Walraven said, looking at his
watch. '* Three o'click, Mollie, and time for rehearsal. I
shall go and see Cricket to-night, and to-morrow morning
('rick t must bo ready to go with me. Until then, my
adopted daughter, adieu!"

That night, when the green curtain went up, the strange
gentleman sat in the front seat for the second time, and gazed
on the antics of Fanchon, the Cricket.

The girl played it well., because she ])layed her own willful,
tricky self, and she kissed her taper lingers to the enraptured
audience, and felt sorry to think it might be for the last time.

Next morning, as demure as a little nun, in her traveling
suit of gray, Miss Cricket took her seat beside her new-mado
guardian, and was whirled away to Kew York.

" Pray, what am I to call you?" she asked, as they sat side
by side. " Am 1 to kt-ep at a respectful distance, and say
' Mr. Walravcn,' or, as 1 am your adopted daughter, is it to
be papa?"

" Well, Cricket, personally 1 have no objection, of course;
but, then, ' papa ' — don't you think ' papa ' might set people
asking qncstions, now?"

" Very true; and some clever person might get investigat-
ing, and iind out you w(!re my papa in reality."

" Molliol" said Mr. Walraven, wincir)g.

" That's the way in the melodramas, ^-ou seo, and you are
very liKe the hero of a iive-act melodrama. W^ell, Mr. Wal-
raven, decide what I shall call youl"

" Suppose you say guardian. That will hit the mark, 1
think. And we will tell people who ask trnublesome questions
that you are the orphan daughter of a dead cousin of mine.
What do you say?''

*' As you please, of course. It ia all one to me."

THE UNSEEN BRIDEGliOOr.

Tho train thundcrotl into the depot presently, and there wus
the uau'cil turmoil and uproar. Mr. VVainiven called a cub,
and half an hour's rattling; over the stony streets brought
thoni to the Wal raven niansion-

Mollio J)aiie, accustomed all her life to dincjy liotels and
lodgings, glanced up at the grand staircase and imposing hall
in rapturous surprise. Mme. Walraven stood graciously wait-
ing to receive her.

" Hero's a granddaughter for you, motlier," said Mr. Wal-
raven — *' a companion to cheer and brighten your future life.
My adopted daughter — Mollio Dane."

Tho stately old lady bent and kissed tho bright, frosh face.

" I atn very happy to welcome you, my dc^ar, and will try
heartily to make your new homo plca^^ant. You are tired, of
course? Here, Margaret, show Miss J)ane to her room."

A spiune waiting-maid appeared at the eld lady's summons,
and led Miss Dane, through carpL'tcd corridors, into the dain-
tiest of dainty bed-chambers, all blue silk and white lace dra-
pery, and rich furniture, and exquisite jjictures.

In all her life long, Mollie hail never beheld anything half
so beautiful, and she caught her breath with one little cry of
delight.

" Shall I help you, miss?" very respectfully asked the girl.
" I'm to be your maid, please, and luncheon will bo reatly by
the time you aro dressed."

Miss Dane permitted her to remove her traveling-dress in
ecstatic silence, and robo her in azure silk, just a shade less
blue than her eyes.

Very, very pretty she looked, with all nor loose golden ring-
lets, and that brilliant flush on either cheek; and so Mrs.
Walraven and her son thought when she appeared, hke a radi-
ant vision, in the dining-room.

The afternoon and evening went like a swift dream of de-
light in viewing the house and its splendors. She retired
early, with a kiss from guardian and grandmamma, her head
in a whirl with the events of the day.

Margaret's tasks were very light that night: her little mis-
tress did not detain her ten minutes. When she had gone,
and she was fairly alone, Mollie sprung up and went whirling
round tho room in a dance of delight,

" To think of iti" aho cried—" to think all my wildest
dreams should come true like this, and my life go on like a
fairy tale! There is Mr. Walravon, tho good genii of tho
story, Mrs. Walravon, tho old but well-meaning fairy god-
mother; and I'm Cinderella, with tho tatters and rags turned

fix

TiiK (NS-KKN r.!;i!;i;';ii()(.)M.

toolotli fif ,'f;M. and iinl.hinj^ t.;> d) but wuit iifc my oiisR for
tiie fui'-y pritici', jiud niitrry him wIumi li • < 'iino. (.'ricketl
('rickiitl you'ro tliu lunkiost wituh'a grandiliiii|jlitor Lhut ever
tlancud to her own shiulow!"

MR.

ClIAPTElt III.

WALUAVKNf's WKDOINO.

Moi.MK l)AiVK miido htjrsolf vdry much at hotno ut oiioo in
till! nj;i;fiiilicc'iit W'uli'uvcn niiinsioii. 'J'lio diiz/,l.» of its {^'lories
scarnciv lasted beyoiul the first (hiy, or, if it did, nobody saw
it. Why, indeed, slioiild blio bo daz/dedi' !^\\o, who liad been
Lady Macbeth, and received the Tluino of (!awdor at her own
{^^ates; who had been Juliet, the heiress of a'! the Capiilets;
who had seen dukes and nobles snubbed unmercifully every
ni^Tjht of her life by virtuous poverty, on tlu; stage. Jiefore
the end of the first week MoiJio had boiiome the light of tho
hoiiHO, perfectly indispensable to t!ie happiness of its inmates.

Miss Dane was lanmhei! into society at a dinner-party given
for the express purj)o;i' by " grandmamma. '' Wondrously
pretty looked the youthful ilcliiildnk, in silvery silk and misty
lii(!e and pearls, her eyes like blue stars, her cheeks like June
rosea.

In the wintery dusk of tlie sliort December days, Mrs. Wal-
raven received lier guests in the library, an imposing room,
oak-paneled, crimson-draped, and filled from floor to ceiling
with a noble collec^tion of books. (Jreat snow-flakes lluttered
against the phite glass, and an icy blast howled up the avenue,
but in the glittering dining-room flowers bloomed, and birds
sung, and tropical fruits perfumed the air; and radiant under
the gas-light, beautiful Miss Dane llaahed the light of her blue
eyes, and looked like some lovely little sprite from fairy-land.

Miss Blanche Oleamler, darkly majestic in maize silk and
jewels, sat at Miss Dane's right hand, and eyed her coldly
with jealous dislike. Mollio read her through at the first
glance.

"She hates mo already," thought Mr. Walraven's ward;
■' and your tall women, with flashing black eyes and blue-
black hair, arc; apt to be good haters. Very well, Miss
Oleander; it shall be just as you like."

A gentleman sat on her other hand — a handsome young art-
ist — Mr. Hugh Ingelow, and ho listened with an attentive
face, while she held her own with the sarcastic Blanche, and
rather got the best of the battle.

for

rki-t!

cvi-r

THE UNSERN lUil KKfi liOOM.

*' Tlio lil.tlt' Itnmitv 'i-\ no iIiimcc," (limi'^Iif, Mr. ]\'.\i/]\ [iii'c-
low. " Miri:i l')lmi<'lio hua fouud u foe worthy of ln'i Imi'L
iitaol."

And doiriiiif: to tlii.4 coiioliision, Mr. Ingolow irnrntilijihlv
he^'ari nuikin!,' hiniHclf ji^rcouhlu to hit; fair iiciylibor. .\Jis.4
Ok'UD'lor was n |»et aversion of liis own, and this bond of utiiiyu
drew liini and liur sauey little antii!,'onist toj^'etber at oiici".

" Katlier a siuir]) set-to, Misti l)ane," the artist remarked,
in iiis lazy voice. *' Mm Olearnlc r is a clever woman, but. vjic
iri mat(!hed at hist. I wonder why it is? You two ougln io
be j;ood friends."

Jle ghmeed significantly at Mr. "VValravon, dovoting himsflf
to Miss Oleander, and Mollie gave lier white shoulders a little
shrng.

" If we ought, we never will bo. Coming events cast their
shadows before, and I know I bhull detest a guardianess.
Who is that brigandish-looking gentleman over there, Mr.
Ingclow? lie has been staring at mo steadily for the last ten
minutes.''

" Lost in speechless admiration, no doubt. That gentle-
man is the celebrated Doctor Oleander, own cousin to the fair
Blanche. "

The gentleman in question certainly was staring, but his
staring was intorru2)ted at this moment by a general uprising
and retreat to the drawing-room. Mr. Ingelow, on who;fe
arm she leaned, led htjr to the piano at once.

" You sing, I know — Mrs. Walraven lias told me. Pray
favor lis witii one song before some less gifted performer
secures this vacant seat."

" What shall it be?" Mollie asked, running her white
lingers over the keys.

" Whatever you please — whatever you like best. I shall bo
sure to like it."

j*lollie sung brilliantly, ami sung her best now. There \fas
dead silence; no one had expected such a glorious voice as
this. Hugh Ingelovv's rapt face showed what he felt as Mollie
rose.

" Miss Dane ought to go upon the stage; she would make
her fortune," said a deep voice at her elbow.

She turned sharply round, and. met the dark, sinister eyes
and ])ale face of Dr. Oleander.

" Miss Dane foigets mc" lie siiid, with a low bow, " among
so manv presentations. Will you kindly reintroduce me, Mr.
Ingeluw?"

Mr. lugelow obeyed with uo very good grace; the sparkling.

Tim UNSEEN HltlDEOnOOM.

blne-oyeil cuqutUi! luid mado wild work with hia Jirtisl lioart
alrfiady.

" Mrrf. Walmven do'urt'il ine to brlnjT you to licr for a mo-
ment," the suave doctor and, otit'riiiij lii.'i iiruj. " May 1 luivo
the honor?"

Mr. Inf<elow'n eyes ilasluul an^jrilv, anil Mollio, solIiil,' it,
nnd boiiij; a bom ooqiiottL'. took tlio |)roircriil >\vn\ al. otict!.

It was tht! niereiit trille grandnKwnina wantt'd, but it ^ei vfd
the doctor's turn — iio iuui got tho b^auLy of l])u ovciiing, and
he tnoaot to keep iier.

Mollio listencil to his endless How of coniplimentary small-
talk just as long a^i she chose, ami then glidi d ooollv invay to
flirt with a third adorer, tho eminent young lawyer, Mr. Joseph
Sardoiiy:^.

Mollio hovered between those throo tho livelong evening;
now it was the haml,«ome ai-list, now tho polished doctor, now
tho witty, satirical lawyer, flirting in tho most nnpardoiuiblo
manner.

Even Mr. Walraven w^is a little shocked, and undertook, in
tho course of the evening, to expostulate.

'* Flirtit)g is all very well, Mollie," ho said, " but it really
mustn't be carried too fur. People are bi'ginning to make re-
marks."

" Are they?" said Mollie; " about which of us, pray? for
really and truly, guardy, you have been flirting the worst of
the two."

" Nonsense, Mollie! You mean Miss Oleander, 1 suppose?
That is no flirtation."

" Indeed! then it is worse—it is serious?"

" Yes, if asking iier to marry mo bo serious. And she has
said ye?, Mollie."

Miss Dane looked at him compassionately.

*' You poor, unfortunate guardy! And you are really going
to marry IJlanche Oleandir! W'dl, one comfort is, you wiil
be ready to blow your brains out six months after; and serve
you right, too! Don't let us taltv about it to-night. I am
sorry for you, and if you have any sense left you will soon bo
sorry for yourself. Here comes Doctor Oleander, and I mean
to be as fascinating as I know how, just to drive the other two
to the verge of madnes^s. "

She danced awav, leaving Mr. Walraveu i)u]Iiiig his mus-
tache, a picture of helpltcs perfilexit}'.

" I wonder if 1 have put r.iy foot in it?" he (botigbt, as ho
looked across tho long room to where IJlanchu stood, the
fcrilliant center of a brilliant group. " Sho is very handsome

THE UNSEEN liiaDEnnOOM.

iiicun by iiayinj;; you
retorted her cousin,
-ho mciiiiH nmrriiige."

and rery clever — 8o clever that I don't for the life of mo know
whether 1 niadu lovo to her or hIjo to nic It is too Ittto now
for tinythinp but a wedding or heavy damages, and of the two
evils I prefer the lir«t. "

Mrs. SV'ulravcn's dinner-party broko np very l»to, and
Jilanehe Oleander went home with her roiisin.

"A i)ert, forward, bold-faced minxl" Mins Oleander bur8t
out, the nioiiient they were alone in the carriage. " Ouy,
what on earlh did you mean by i)ayiiig her Kuch marked atten-
tion all evening?"

" What did Carl Walraven mean by payinj; i/ou such
marked attention all evening?"

" Mr. VVal raven \n no llirt

" And 1 am no llirt — 1 mean marriuge also."

*' (ruy, are you mad? JMarry that nameless, brazen creat-
ure?"

" ]'>lanchc, be civil! Most assuredly I will marry her if hIic
will marry me."

" Then you will rcpnnt it all the days of your life."

"Probably. I think 1 hourd Miss Dane making a similar
remark to your atlia iced about you."

" Tho impertinent little wretch! Let her wait until I am
Mr. Wulraven'.s wife!"

'* Vague and terrible! ^\'hon is it to be?"

" Tho wedding? Next month."

" Poor Walraven! U'hcre. liianehe, don't flash up, pray!
When you are married you will want to get blue-eyed Mollie
oir your hands, so please transfer her to mo, little Hash of
lightning that she is! 1 ahvay» did like unbroken colts for
the pleasure of taming them."

Mrs. Walraven was told of her son's ajiproaching marriage
the day after the dinner-jtarty; dit^approved, but said nothing.
Mollie disaf)proved, and .-aiil everytliing.

" It's of no use talking now, Mollio!" hw guardian ex-
claimed, inij/atiently. " I nuist and will marry lilancho. "

" And, oh! what a piiiable object, you will be twelve months
after! But I'll never de-crt you — never strike my Hag to tho
conquoress. ' Tho boy stood on the burning dock.' I'll be a
seoond Casi — what you may call him? to you. I'll bo brido-
maid now, and your protector from the lovely Blaucho in tho
future."

She kept her v;ord. In sf)ite of Miss Oleander's dislike, she
was first bride-maid when the eventful day arrived.
But fairer than the bride, fairest of t!ie rosy bevy of bride*

THE UNSEEN imiDEfiROOlf.

raaiila, shone hliio-eyed Mollio Dane. A party of Kpeiichlci;;^
tu.'mirers stood bcliinJ, cliief among them llugfi In^clow.

'ilic bridal party were drawn up before the sur2)Hced clergy-
man, and " Who givtth this woman?" had boon asked find
iuiswered, and the service was proceeding in due order win n
llicrr was a sudden commotion at (ho door.

Sumo one rushed impetuously in, and a voice that rang
tiirouT;h the lofty edifice shouted:

" 8topI I forbid the marriagel"

Carl Walravon whirled round agliast. The bride shrieked;
the bride-maids echoed the bride in every note of the gauiiit —
all pave Molliej and she, like the bridegroom, had recognized
the intruder.

For, tall and gaunt as one of Macbeth's witches, there stood
the woman Miriam !

CILVPTER IV.

MOLLIK'8 ( onquest.

There was a blank pause; every eyo fixed on the towering
form of the spocter-liko woman.

*' I forbid the marriagel" exclaimed Miriam. "Clergy-
man, on your peril you uidte those twol"

"The woman is mad!" cried CarMVal raven, white with
rage. " Men, turn her out!"

*' Stop!" said Mollie — *' stop one moment. I know this
woman, and will see what she means."

No one interfered; every one gazed in breathless interest as
Miss Dane quitted her ])ost and confronted the haggard a]ipa-
rition. The woman uttered a cry at sight of her, and caught
her impetuously by the arm.

" Mad girl! have you forgotten what I told you? Would
you marry that man?"

" Mi. r-ry what man? What de you mean? I am not going
to marry any man to-day. It is you who have gone nuul, I
think."

'* Why, then, do you wear those brid;il robes?"

*' Jkiile-maid robes, if you please, (iracious me, i\[iriiiui,
you didn't think 1 was going to marry Mr. Walraven, did

you

Miriam ])!i£sed her l;and over her brow with a bewildered
air.

" Whom, then, is it, if not you?"

" Miss Blanche Ol'under, of course, h.j any one could h«vo

THE UNSEEK liRIDEGROOM.

iUllj

111 II

'aii'^

told you, if you had taken tlio troublo to ask before rushing
in here and making a scene, "

" I only hoard last night he was to bo married," Miriam
said, with a bewiklercd face, " and took it for granted that it
must be you."

"Then you must have had a poorer opinion of my taste
than 1 should have thought it i)o.s?ible for you to have. Come
in and beg everybody's })ardon, and tell them it was all a
shocking mistake."

" One word lirst: Are you well and happy?"

" Perfectly well, and happy as a (pieen. Come on; thcro
is no time to lose. I'eople are staring dreadfully, and the
bride is glaring with rage. Quick — cornel"

She llittod back to her place, and Miriam, stopping forward,
addressed the assenibly:

" 1 ask your pardon, ladies and gentlemen. I have made a
mistake. I thought the bride was Miss Dane. I beg the
ceremony will proceed."

She pulled a veil she wore down over her gaunt face, and
with the last word hurried out and disappeared. ]\Ir. Wal-
raven, suppressing his rage, turned to the minister.

" Proceedl" he said, imjiatiently, '* and make haste."

The bride, vory white with ang(!r and mortiiication, resumed
her place; tlio ceremony recommeni'ed. This time there was
no interruption, and in ten minutes the twain wore one ilesh.

Half an hoar lat'>r they were back at the Walraven mansion
to cat the wedding-breakfast, and then the new-made Mrs.
Walraven, with an eye that Hashed and a voice that rang,
turned upon her liege lord and denu'.nded an explanation.
-Mr. Walraven shrugged hi.s .shoulders doprecatiuglv.

" My dearest Blanche, 1 have none to give. The wonuin
iiiu.-;t l»e mad. Speak to MoUie. "

'' C.'a.l Walraven, do not dare to deceive me on my wedding-
lay. You know more of this than you choose to say."

'* Mrs. Walraven, do not raise ycuir angel voice to such a
pit(;h for nothing. 1 said before, speak to Mollie. 1 say
again, s])eak to Mollie; and here she is."

" So she is," said Miss J )an(!, sauntering in. " Do you
want me to allay a post-nuptial storm already? Auspicious
beginning! What is it?"

" Who was that woman?" dematnicd the bride.

" A very old friend of nunc, madauie. "

Why did she come to the church and try to stoji the mar-

nagi

.V"

*' Because she thought 1 waa

the biidu. She said so, didn't

THE UNST5EN BKIPIGROOM.

she? And being very well acquainted with me, she was moved
with compassion for the dehided man and came to warn him
in time 1 explained her little mit^take, as jou saw, and she
apologized handsomely, and — exit, Miriam. Isn't that satis-
factory?"

" Are you speaking tlie truth?"

Miss Dane hi'.d her hand upon lier heart, and bowed pro-
foundly.

" Doesn't Mr. Walraven know her?"

*' That is a question I can not take it upon myself to an-
swer. Mr. Walraven is of age. Let him speak for himself,"

" 1 told you before," said the bridegroom, angrily. " Let
us have no more about it, Blanche, or I may chance to lose
my temper."

He turned on his heel and walked off whistling, and Uie
bride, in her snowy robes and laces, went down to breakfast,
trying vaitdy to clear her stormy brow. MoUie puckered up
her rosy lips into a shrill whistle.

" And this is their wedding-day! I told him how it would
be, but of course nobody over minds what I say. I'oor trnardy!
what ever would become of him traveling alone with that
woma?i! How thankful he ought to be that he has me to go
along and take care of liim!"

For MoUie had made it an express stipulation, contrary to
all precedent, that she was to accompany the happy ])air on
their bridal tour. Miss Oleander's ante-nuptial objfctioiis had
been faint; Mrs. Walraven, less scrupulous, turned upon her
husband at the eleventh hour, just previous to starting, and
insisted that she should be left at home.

" It will be ridiculous in the extreme," exclaimed the
bride " liaving your ward travel-iiig with us! Let her remain
at home with your mother."

Mr. Walraven looked his bride Steadfastly in the eye for a
moment, then sat down deliberately.

" Look here, Mrs. Walraven," said ]\Ir. Walraven, perfect-
ly cool, " you have made a little mistnko, I fancy. Permit
me to rectify it. Wearing the lireeches is a vulgar exi)ression,
I am aware, and only admissible in low circles; still, it so
forcibly expresses what 1 am trying to express, that yon will
all')W me to use it. You are trying to don the incxpies?ibles,
Blanche, but it won't do. My ward goes with us on our
bridal tour, or there shall be Jio bridal tour at all. There!
you have it in plain English, Mrs. Carl Walraven!"

Five minutes later Mr. and Mrs. Walraven descended to the
carriage, Mrs, Walraven with her veil drawn down, and mak-

THE INSEKN BRIDEGROOM.

ing her adieus in u smolbercHi vm-t of voice. Mr. Walraveu
hnuded in his wurd next, then followed; tlie coachnitin flour-
ished his whip !ind Lliey were fjone.

The happv pair were nieroly going to \Va!<hington. Mr.
Walraven had had a surfeit of EiirofK', and \Va.shiii,':ton, tiiis
fciparkling winter wi-ather, was at its gayest and best. The
Walraven party, with plethoric purses, ])lui)ged uito the midst
of the gayety at once.

" 1 like this sort of thing," said Mollie to her guardian;
*' the theater, and the opera, and a hull, and two or three
parties every night. I like dancing until broad daylight, and
going to bed at six in the morning, and gt tti-ng up to break-
fast at one. 1 like matinees at three in the afternoon, and
dinners with seventeen oonrsos, and going to the White
House, and t^^haking hands with the Piesident, and sailing
around the East IJoom, and having people point me out as the
beauty of the season. It's new and it's nice, and 1 never get
tired, or pale, or limpy, like most of the girls. I never en-
joyed myself so much in my life, and you would say the same
thing, guardy, only you're in your honey-moon, and not cap!^-
ble of enjoying anything."

" But, Mollie," Mr. Walravm remonstrated, " it isn't
right to flirt so much as you do. There's young Ingelow.
The way you devoted yourself to that young man last night
set everyboily talking."

"Let 'em talk," responded Miss i3ane, loftily. "When
Mr. Ingelow followed me all the way from 'New York, 1 think
it was the very least I could do in common politeness. lie
found it a wastie and howling wilderness without me — yes, lie
did; ho said so. And then, Mr. Walraven, 1 like him."

"You like him?"

" Ye?, ever and ever so much; and I'm dreadfully sorry
for him, because 1 know he'll break his heart wiien 1 refuse
him."

" lie hasn't proposed y<;t, then?"

" Not yet, but 1 expect it shortly. I know tlie symptoms.
Tie looked almost as sheepish last night as you used to before
you proposed to Miss Oleander."

It was quite true; the handsome young artist had followed
Miss Dane to Wa-'hington. He had hardly known bow much
lie was in lore with her until she was gone, and all young-
ladydom grew flat, stale, and insipid as dish-water.

Mr. Ingolow, of rather ati indolent tcmpeiament, disposed
to take things easy and let the world slide, was astoaished

THE rXSEEX HKIDEGROOM.

)iiiii3olf lit fLe smldon lioiit ami ardor Lhi.-! little gii'I with the
sunny sniilf! liud iireatcil williiii him.

" It isn't hf-r beauty," tliouj^iit tlu; Iiaiulsotnr artist,
" altliongli ."In- i-! picfty as an ati;;e!; it i.-;ii'l, Ium- bliin «^3'i';;
and her gol(i;n hair, for f seu bhu/ c;y(.s ami goldun hair ovory
day of my life, and ntver n'lvu tiu'ni a set'oiid riioiight; it isn't
her iiingiiig or dancing, for half tii*^ girls 1 knn<\' hiii;: and
dance as well; and it can't be licr spiriiod styju of conversa-
tion, for that's not so very nivv, cithor. Then what is it?''

Mr. Ingclow, at this point, always fell into mu h a morass
of ])ros and eons that his brain grew dazed, and ho gave the
2)robIfm up a'lt.igether. Ihit the great, iii.ontrovc rtible fact
remained — he was headlong in love wi'h MwUie, and had fol-
lowed her to Washington cxpi-essly to tell her 80.

" For if I wait, and she returns to New York," mused Mr.
lugelow, " I will have Oleander and Sardonyx i)ath neck and
neck in the race. Here there is a fair field and no favor, and
here I will try my Inck."

But Mr. Ingelow was mistaken, f r here in his " fair field ''
appeared the most formidable rival he eoiild possibly have h;ul
— a rival who seemtd likely to eclipse himself and Oleander
and Sardonyx at one fell swoop.

At the presidential levees, on. jiublic promenailes and tlrives,
Miss Dane had notietd a tall, white-haired, aristota-atic-looking
gentleman attentively watching her as if fascinated, j-lvcry
place t;he ap[Kared in ])ublic tliis distingiiished-li). iking gentle-
man hovereil in the Ijiickground lil»o her shadow.

'* \Vh.» is that venera!)lo old ])arty," she dcMnandid, im-
patii'iilly, " that hainils me like an nneasy gliosl!^ Can 1 be
a lost daughter of his, with a stra-vberry mark somewhere, or
tlo I bear an unearthly re^■end)lan•^' to some lovely being he
junrdered in early life? Who is hu?"

And the answer <'ame, nearly taking away Cricket's breath;

" Sir IJeger Trajeiina, tlie great Welsh biironet, worth no-
body kiiows how many millions, an 1 with castles by the dozen
in his own land of mountains."

It was }ilr. Ingelow who gave her the infurmalion, and tiie
occa^:ion was a brilliant ball. MoUie had oftcni heard of the
Welsh baronet-, but this was the first time the had encountered
him at a ball or party.

" I thought that Sir Iioger Trajenna never accepted invita-
tions," she said, opening and .shutting her fan. " 'I'his is the
first time I ever s^aw him at a private ])arty. "

" I think I know ilu; reason," responded Mr. Ingelow.

THK UNSEEN nKIDEOROOM.

" Rumor sets him down as the last in Miss Dane's list of
killed and wounded."

"So 1 huve licard," said Mollio, coolly; "but it is too
good to bo truo. ] should dearly love to be my lady and live
in a Welsh cai^tle.''

" With t<i\ty-(ivo years and a hoary head for a husband?"

" How painfully aecurato you arel With his countless
millions and his aneestral castles, what does a little disjiarity
of years .si^'nify?"

" Miss i)aiie," asked Mr. Tngelow, vcrv earnestly, " would
you accept that old man if he asked you?"'

"My dear Mr. Ingelow, what a dnadfidly point-blank
question I tSo very embarras;<ingl 1 thought you knew
better!"

" I beg your pardon. J>nt, Miss Dane, as a sincere friend,
may 1 ask an answer?"

" Well, then, as a friend, 1 can't f^ay for certain, but I am
afraid — I am v^ry much afraid I would ;-ay — "

" Miss Dane, permit mel" evclaimed a voice at her elbow —
" Sir Iioger Trajenna, Miss Dane."

Mij-s ]>ane turned calmly rtund to hrr hostess and tJtc guest
of the (jvening, aTid graciou.sly received the venerable baroni t's
]>ri)found bow. At the same instant the music of a wAiv.
Btruck up, to the jealous artist's inlinite rtliof.

" Xow, then, Miss Dane, it you are ready," said Mr. Inge-
low, rather imjieriously.

"Excuse me, Mr. Ingelow," replied Miss Dane, with in-
finite calm; "I am reiiliy t(.o much fatigued for this waltz.
Sir Iioger, some one is singing yonder. I should like to hear
him."

And under Mr. Tngdow'd angry eyes, she took the enrapt-
ured old baronet's arm and walked away.

"The hoary dotard I" muttiied the artist, glaring and
grinding his teeth; "the sixly-five-ycafclil imbrcilcl It is
the first time I ever heard her decline a waltz under the plea
of fatigue. She's a hiiirtUss coquette, that Mollio Dane, and
1 am a fool to waste a :-econd thought iijinn her."

Mir.s Dane danced no more that evening, and Sir IJoger
never left her side. She talked to him until his oM eyes
};parkled; she smiled upon him until his brain swam with de-
light.

Atid that was l)ut the beginning. The torments Mr. Hugh
Ingelow sulfercd for tiic ensuing two weeks words are too weak
to describe. To cap the climax, Dr. Oleander suddenly ap-

:J2

THE UNSEEN UTIIDEGROOM.

peiired ii|ion the scene and glowered under bent biack brows
at cofjiiottish Mollie.

" The idea of being civil to anything so comnionplace as a
mere doctor," Miss Dane said to her gtianlian, when taken to
task for the airs she assjunied, " wlien Welsh baronets arc
ready to go down on their knees and worship tlie ground I
walk on! If he doesn't lilvo the wa.y he is treated, he knows
the way back to New York. I never sent lor him to come
here."

Sir Roger's devotion was inexpressible. No wonder Mollie
was dazzled. The city was on the f/ni rive. 'J'he ])i(|uant
little New York beauty, whom the men adored and the women
abused, had caught the golden prize. Would lie really ask
her to become Lady Tiajejina, or would (he glamour wear off
and leave the saucy little ilirt stranded high juid dry?

The last night of Mr. Waliaven's stay in Vv'at=hington settled
that question. They were at a grand reception, Mrs. Wal-
raven magniilceut in moirr and diamonds, and ]\Iollie iloating
about in a cloud of misty pink, and fijiariding pearls, and
amber tresses. There, of course, was Sir liogcr, and there
(also, of course) were Dr. Oleander and Hugh Ingelow in a
state of frantic jealousy.

It had come, long ere this, to be a settled thing that the
Welsh baronet should never Kave her side, except while she
was dancing. So that when, a little before supper, they
strolled out on the piazza, it was nothing surprising or re-
markable.

The winter night was windless and mild. Sir Koger's
asthmatic and rheumaiic aflliotions were quite safe in the
warm atmosphere. Moonlight flooded everything with its
misty glory, stars spangled the sky, music came softened by
distance fiom the ball-room — all was conducive to love and to
love-making. Sir Koger Trajenna, inspired by the music,
the moonlight, and the charming little beauty beside him,
t'- 3 and then laid name, heart, and fortune at Miss Dane's
i..ir feet.

There was a pause. Even Mollie felt a little iluttered, now
that the time had come.

'* 1 know the disparity of years is great," the baronet said,
quite trembling in hiseagerness; "but my whole existence will
bo devoted to yon; every pleasure wealth can purchase shall
be ynurs; every wish that I can anticipate shall bo anticipated.
You will be my darling, my idol. I love yot passionately.
Say not, then, 1 am too old."'

*' I don't," said Mollie — " I don't mind your age iu tho

THE UNSEEN KRIDEQROOM,

least. T rather dislike young men; I've liad such a surfoJt of
them."

" Then 1 may hope?" breathlessly.

" Oh, yes, Sir lJ<»gor, you may hope. J am not in iove with
anyboily else that [ know of."

" And you will be my wife?"

" Ah, that's another thing! I don't seem to care about
being married, somehow. ^'ou must give me time, .Sir
liogor. Come, let us go in to supper. 1 will tell you bv and
by."

" Aa you please, my beautiful Mollie. Only don't keep me
waiting too long, and let your answer be ' yes ' when it
comes. "

Miss Dane partook of supper with a very good appetite, ac-
cepted j\Ir. Iiigelow for a wait.-'; and J)r. Oleander for a qua-
drille, smiled sweetly and graciously upon both, and took .Sir
Kogor's arm, at the close of the ball, for the carriage.

" Well, Miss Dane — Mollie!" the baronet said, eagerly,
" have you decided? What is it to be — yes or no?"

And Mollie looked up in his face with those starry, azure
eyes, and that bewildering smile, and answered sweetly:

"Yes!"

CHAP'JVKIi V.

MOI.LIE's JHSCniEF.

Mips Dane returned to New York " engaged," and with
the fact known to none save herself and the enrapture<l
Welshman.

" There is no need to be in a hurry," the young lady said
to her elderly adorer: " and I want to be safely at home be-
fore I overwhelm them with the news. There is always euoh
fussing and talking made over engagements, and an engage-
ment is ilreadfully humdrum and dowdyish anyhow."

That was what Miss Dane a»id. What she thought was en-
tirely another matter.

" 1 do want Doctor Oleander and Mr. Sardonyx to propose;
and if they discover I've accepted the baronet, they won't.
[ am dying to see the wry fa^es they will make over ' No,
thanks!' Then there is Hugh ingelow — "

But Mollie's train of wicked thoughts was apt to break olf
at this point, and a remorseful expression cloud her blue eyes.

" Poor Hugh! Poor fellow! It's a little too bad to treat
him so; and he's dreadfully fond of me, too. But, then, it's
impossible to help it; of course it is. I want to be rich, and

:]4

TUK UNSEEN ItKIDPXillOOM.

\v(!ir ilintnoinls, niid tiavel ovor the worlil, iuul be ' My Lulv."
uiiil j)'»oi-, (K':i,!' lluifh (loiikln't koip a cut properly. Ah I wluit
II piiy all Lilt', nicu men, uiul Uic liamlsonio mon, must bo

p;)oi-:''

I'^iithfiilly in the train of the "Wiih-jiven party returned Mol-
lie's tidoror.s. So one w.ia siirpristMl .it (he continued devotion
of Mi.'hsrrf. Ingclow and Oieaml'jr; but every one was surprised
lit Sir Knger Trujetnui.

" Is it po.-^sible tliiit jiroud old niiin lias really fallen serious-
ly in love with that yullow-haired, llighty chilii?" asked ^Irs.
Carl Walraveu in antrry surprise. " llo H"aa attentive at
Washington, certainly; but 1 fancied his absurd old eyes were
didy caught for the moment. If it tihoiiM prove serious, what
a thing it will bo for her! and these antediluvians, in their
dotage, will do such ridi'udoua things. My Lady Trajennal
JJettritable little minx I I should like to poison her I"

Miss Dane carried on her llirtations, despite her engage-
ment, with her thrci- m fro yr.uthful admirers,

Kow ;i,nd then Sir Jioger, looking on with doting, but dis
aj)proving eyes', ventured on a feeble vemtmstrance.

" It is unfair to yourself and unfair to mo, my darling,'*
ho said. " Kicry smile you bestow u])on them is a stab to
me. Do let nic s|)eak to Mr. Walravcii, and end it at once."

Ihit still Mi»!li.; refused to consent.

" A'o, no. Sir Koger; let me have my own way a little
longer. 'J'here is no need of your being jealous. I don't care
a straw for the three of them. Oidy it is such fun. Wait a
little longer."

Of course the fair-haired despot had her way.

The soconil week of their niturn Mr. and ]\Irs, Walravcn
were " at home " to their friends, and once more the t;|)acious<
halls and stair-ways were ablaze with illumimition, and the
long ranges of rooms, ojMniing one into another, wore radiant
with light, and ihnvers, and music, and brilliant ladies.

Mrs. Waliaven, superb in her bridal robes, stood beside her
husband, receiving their guests. And Miss MoUie Dane, in
shimmering silk, that blushed as she walked, and clusters of
water-lilies drooj)ing from her tinseled curls, was as lovely as
Venus rising from the sea-foam.

Here, there, everywhere, she ilashod like a gleam of light;
waltzing with the dreamy-eyed artist, I [ugh lugelow, hanging
on the arm of Dr. Oleander, chattering like u nuigpie with
Lawyer Sardonyx, and anon laughing at all three with Sir
Koger Trajenna.

You might as well have tried to regulate the vagaries of a

THE IXSEI'^ BfUDr.CiUOOM.

■•Jfl

V."
ha

comet — as \vc;Il guess from wliat quuitcr the fickle wiml would
ni'xt hlow.

" VVoiiiGn arci till puzzles," t^uid I)r. Oleiiiuler, in (juioUlo-
spair to Mrs. \V:iIravi'ii. " 'I'liat is a truism lou;^' and triiid;
but, by dovi'! Miss iMoiiie Daiu' puts the toppurs on the lot.
J novLT met with such a bokviMerinif sjirite. "

" Odious, artfid creature'." liisscd the bride of Car! W;d-
raven. " it is all iier crafty schemini,' to attract the attention
of that hoary-he;ided sinipKton, Sir K'i^er 'rrajenna. If you
are in love with her, fiuy (and how you can h a mystery to
me), why don't you [iroposc at once?"

" Jiecause J am afraid, madamc. "

"Afraid!" scornfully — '"afraid of a goosey girl of seven-
teen! J never took you for a born idiot before, Guy Olean-
der."

" Thanks, my fair relative! lUit It is quite as disagreeable
to be refused by a ' goosey girl of seventeen ' as by u young
lady of seven-and-twenty. Your age, my dear lUanohe, is it
not?"

" Never mind my age!" retorted Mrs. Walraven, shav))Iy.
"' My age lias nothing to do with it. If you <1ou't asjk Mollio
Dane to-night, Hugh Ingelow or -bimes .Sardonyx iviil to-
morrow, and the chances are ten to one she aooo])ts the first
on(! who proposes."

" IndciHl! Why?"

" Oh, for the salco of being engaged, being a heroine, being
talked ai)out. She likes to be talked about, this bewildering
fairy ()f yours. Slio isn't in love with any of you; that I can
see. It isn't in her shallow juiture, I supjwso, to be iji love
with anybody but her own precioiis self."

"My dear Mri. Walraven, are you not a little severe?
Poor, blue-eyed MoUie! And you think, if I speak to-night,
1 stand a chance?"

" A better dianco than if you defer it. She may say ' yes *
on the impulse of the moment. If she does, trust mo to
make her keep lier word."

" How?"

" That is my all'air. Ah! what was that?"

The cousins were standing near one of the long, rirhly
dr»i)ed windows, and the silken hangings had llutteretl sud-
denly.

" Nothing but the wind," replied Dr. Oleander, carelessly.
" Very well, Blanche, I take you at your word. 1 wdl ask
Mollie to-night."

Mrs. Walraven nodded, and turned to go.

TMT: unseen BRIDFOROOAr.

" Ask lipr n^ fjiiii'kly as poasiblo. You are to danco the
polka (|'ii!ilrillo with her, are you not? After tlio polka fjiju-
(Irillo, tlifii. And now lot iis part, or (hoy will bci^iri to iluuk
we are liatcliiii,'; aiiothnr (i'un|)owilcr JMot. "

" Or 3Ir. Ca.l Walravon may be jealous," siicfjestcfl Dr.
Olcaiulor, willi an unpleaaanl. iaiiirli. "I i^ay, liianehc the
gold en-li aired Mollie couldn't be li's daughter, couid she?"

Mrs. Wulraven's black eyes lliidicd.

" Whoever slio i^, the p^.onor sha Is ont of tliis house the
better. I hate her, Doctor ()leandor — your Fan* One with the
Goldc!! Tjocks, and 1 could go to her funeral with the greatest
pleasurel"

The plotting pair separated. Hardly were they gone when
the silken eurtains parted and a bright, face, framed in yellow
ringlets, 'peeped out, sty->.rkling with miochief.

" '^Fwo women in one house, two oat.s over one mouse, never
agree," quoth I\Io]lie. " iiisteners never hear any good of
themaelves, but, oh! tlie opportiuiity was irresistible. 80
Doetor Ouy Oleander is going to propose, and Mollie Dane is
to Kiiy ' yes ' on the impidso of the moment, and Mamma
])lanehe is to make her stick to her word I And it's all to
ha|ipen alter th;^ ])i)lka quadrille! Very well; I'm ready. If
Doclor Oleander and his cousin don't find their match, my
name's not MoHiel"

Miss Dane consulted her jeweled tablets, and discovered
that the i»oIka ([uadriile was the very next in order.

Shaking out her rosy skirts, she lluttercd away, mercilessly
bent on manskiughter. Every one nuide way f jr the daughter
of the house, and in a moment she was beside J)r. Ol<!ander,
holding up the iidaid tablets, and smiling her brightest in his
dazzleil eyes.

" Such disgraceful conduct, Doctor Oleander! I have been
searching for you everywhere. I aj)peal Lo you, (.'olonel
Marshland; he engaged me for this (piadrille. There is the
music now, and he leaves me to hunt the house for him."

" Unpardonable," said the gallant colonel. " At his age 1
should have known better. Oleander, make your peace if you
can."

The colonel made liis bow, and then ho walked away.

Dr. Oleander drew her arm inside his own, bending very
low over the sparkling sprite,

" You are not implacable, I trust, Miss Molhe. It was all
the coionel's fault, I assure you."

Mollie shrugged her shoulders.

"Of course you say so. Oh, don't wear that im])loring

THK UNSEEN li!UDEGKOOM.

f:ino! J forp;ivo yon; but aiii no more. Tliorol they iiro wait-
ing— com:!!"

All tliroiiju'li tiic (liincc Mi-^s J)ano spiukled nn yho Likil ncv^er
sparkled Ivfoie. Jlru I ho fjuudrilio was over, J)r. Oltaiidcr
uus tt'ii faili'iins (li'ft)or in lovo than ever.

" It irt 80 very not herel" Mollio exiilaimcd, impatiently —
*' perfecilly .stilliiigl Do let us go somewhere and g( t eool. "

'* Lot ii>! go into the conservatory," said J)r. Oltander, de-
lightedly, (jidte un('f>nscious that his fair enshivcr was jtlaying
into his hand. " We aro sure to find aolituue and coolneBB
there."

The conservatory was delight fully cool, after the African
tempera! nro of the ball-room. Alabaster lanijts idied a palo
sort of niooidight over the sleeping llowers, and plai--hing
fountains, and marble goddesses.

Aliss Dane suid< diiun undur a latge orangi>t;ee and began
faninng her.^elf langniiily.

" How nioc — this half light, these jierfumrd roses, those
tinkling water- falls, music, and s-olitudel Do I look like Love
among the Koscs, JJoetor Oli ander?"

" Yes; like Love, like Venus, like everything that is bright,
and beaiitii'id, and irre.si^■tiblt•, Miss Dane!"

" Monsieur overwhelms mel AVhy, good gracious, sirl
What do yon mean?"

Fur ])r. Oleander had actually caught her in his arms and
was pouring forth a jtasaionate declaration of love,

" Goodness mel .IJeleasc me instantly! How dare you, sir?
Have you taken leave of your yenses, Doctor Oh aniiei?'

" I am mad for love of you, beautiful Mollic! I adore yeu
v/ith my whole in art!"

" Do you, indeed?" said !Mol]ie, looking angrily at her
rnftled plumage. " !See my dret;s — not fit to be seen! Fm
curpi-ised at you, Doctor Oleander!"

"Mollie, I love you!"

" I don't care — that's no reason wby y<,u should spoil my
lovely dress, and make me a perfect fright. You had no
business going on in that outrageous nninncr, sir!"

" But, Mullie! (iood heavens! will you listen to me?
Never mind your dress."

" >,'evcr mind my dress?" critMl Miss Dane, shrilly. " Due-
tor Oleander, you'ro a iir-ifcct bear, and Fve a good mind
n(;ver to speak to you again as long as 1 live! Let us go back
t" the ball-room. If 1 had known yon were going to act so,
I'd have seen you couijiderably incouvenienceti before I came
with you here."

TIIK rXSEEK IlRIDF.r.KOOM.

" Kut iiti'il yon nnswor mc, Mollio. "

" AnawiT yon? Answer you wiiul? You haven't uskcd mo
;my quostiori."

" 1 told you 1 lovcil you."

" Well,'"' tiKtiiy, " you don't cull that a riuestion?"

" Mollio, will you lovo me?"

" No — of onurso noti Oh, what a torment you are! Do
lot us go hiiclvl"

">>\;vt'il" oxcliiimcd ])r. Oleander, gathering hoj)e —
"never, ]\lnllie, uniil you auswer mol''

llo oaught hoth her hands and hold them fast, Mollio
struggling in vain.

" Oh, dear, dear, what will I i-ay? And tliore — if there
isn't isonie one coming inl Ltt me go, for jtity's take, and
I'll answer you — tn-morrow. "

" To-night, Mollie— to-night!"

" I won't — thcrel" wrenching her hands free and springing
up. " Come to-morrow, between twelve and one, and you
bliall have your answer."

She darted away, and alnioirit into the arms of Mr. Hugh
lngel-.»w. 'i'iuit gei tleman looked su^-ipieiously from her to
Dr. Oleander, emerging from tho shadow of tiie orange-tree.

" Am I ih' fro/', Miss Dane? I thought to lind tiie conserv-
atory desei'ted."

" And so it will be, in a minute," said IMollio, familiarly
taking \m ann. " They are goin^- to supper out yonder, and
I am ulmost famiiihed. Take me drwn."

" And, if I can, J will make you follow <iuy Oleander's lead
before I release you," was the mental addition of tho naughty
co(pietto.

Ir, was no didicidt task to accomplish. A 2)owder magazine
with the train laid could not have needed a smaller sj)ark to
c!iu-!e its explosion. Thnse fiiw wonls elevated the young art-
ist at once to the lofticfit pinnarle of bliss.

" She has just refused Oh.ander, and J may stand a
chance," he thought. " I'll ask her, by dove! after supper."

Mr. Ingelow kept his word. He paid .Miss Dane the mosi
marked attention throughout the repast, filled her plate with
delieacies and li^^r ears with cnnipliments. And Mollio was
sweet a.-', sumuu r cherrit 3, and li.ok his arm when it was over,
and let him le;ul her into a retired nook wlierc amber curtains
shut them in; and tie re, })iil«i and agitiUed, the poor fellow
said his siiy and waildl for his scntencx'.

MoUie's wicked heart smote her. She liked this handsome

J)o

THK INSJ-EN liKinr'CliOOM.

'.][)

youn{4 arti.sL nion! tlnm alic wtiH juvani of, ami tlin first twingo
of rt'inorso for lu'i' m(!r<;il('K.s cociiii.'try lillc;il Iht niitnl.

I'lit it vva.s too Ir.tu to psiiisi! in liur nii.s»jl»iLf-mHlun{^, .iiifl
lh« fun jilicii'l v,;n too f<'iii)it.in^'.

" .Sjtoiilc, Mi. Diinc." Mr, Jii;.ft;!ow ini|)lorc(l; "for pitv'a
fiiike, don't nay voii hiivo k'U me on only to jilt mi; in oold
b''>f)il at tliu last:"

" li'ather stron*,' lan,i:iiii','e, Mr. lnf,'olo\v," said Mollic, coolly
•milium,' to piece-! a rost;. " 1 liave not led you on, liavn J? I
lavo been friendly with you because I Jiked you — as I have
jeen with a dozen others."

" Then I am to (ionsider myself rejected, Miss Dane?"

lie stood up before her, very wiiite, with eyes of unspeak-
able re])roa(:h.

■' Wliat a hurry you are in!" said Mollie, pettishl*. " (iivo
me until to-morrow. I will thiidc it over. J>etween twelve
and one I will be at home; come then aiul you shall have your
answer. 'J'herel let us (fo hack to the liall-room. I have
j)romi3od this redowa to Mr. Sardonyx."

Mr. Ingelow, in ])rofound silence, led Miss Oane back to
the ball-room, where they founil the elegant lawyer searching
for his partner.

" I thought you had forgotten me, Miss Dane," he said,
taking ln'r (jIT at once.

" lmj)0s.sihle, Mr. Sardonyx," lauglied Jlollio. " So norry
to liave kept you waiting; but better late than never."

That <lanec was tlu; old story over again. At its close the
lawyer was so bewitched that he hardly knew wliether ho stood
on his h(!ad or lu'cls.

"It is comingi" thought wicked ]\lollio, looking sideways
at him, "and only wants a ])roper piaco to eomo in."
Aloud: " It is so warm here — 1 feel (juite faint, really. Suj)-
pose wo step out on the ])iazza a munKnf:'"

An instant later and they emerged through tlu; drawing-
room window to the piazza, Mollie wrap})ed in a scarlet shawl,
along wliich her bright curls waved like sunshine. 'I'hc night
was still, warm, and moonlight; the twinkling lights of the
great city shone like a shower of stars.

And here, for the third time that eventful night, Mollie
Dane listened to an ardent avowal of love. Fov the third time
the long lashes drooped over the misi;hicvous eyes.

" This is so sudden — so unexpeeteil — Mr. Sardonyx! I feel
highly complimented, of course; but still you must pardon
mo if I do not rciily at once, Cive mo until to-morrow, afe
noon. Come then and you will be answered."

THE UNSF,E"Nr BRIDEOnOOSf.

She flutteroi'l awny lik<^ a spirit witli the hist wonls, leiiving
tho hopi'ful huvyor .'tivndin'.r in ecstu-fy. Of i-cur-ie ^lie mean!,
to iiocL'pfc hun, or sho \vonl I \viv(' refnsol hinj on thii .«pot.

For tho rest of tlio time Mi^s JJane ivas exclusively the
Wilih baronot','?, find li.-^teued With iinmni "1 wrenity to his
rcjiroivi'lics.

" You uru drivin.i,' me distracted, Mollio," ho .said, pitoniis-
1}'. " You rjiiist let me speak to your guardian without fur-
ther delay. I insist upon ir,,"

" Very well," replied Mi.s.^i Dane, ealiuly. *' As you please,
certainly. "^'!>u may tell him to-ni irn»'.v'. Jjet juc see: at
noon Mr. Walraveii will be at home and alone. Come at
noon."

The pavty ws over — a brilliant succes3.

Mrs. Wairave'i had been admired, and Miss Dane had scan-
dalizotl the best metropolitan soeiety svort^e than ever.

" And, oh I" thontriit that wicked witch, aa she laid her
curly head on Hio pillow in the gray darvn, " won't there be
fun by and by?"

Mrs. WiUraven descended to breakfast at lialf p;iyt ten, and
announced her intention of spending tho romainder of the
morning s!iop[)ing.

Miiilie, in a charming dcnii-toilet, and looking as fresh aH
though, she ha'l not danced incessantly the whole night before,
lieanl the announeenu'nt with secret satisfaction.

" Are you trying, too, Mollie?" asked Iier guardian.

" "No," .'■aid Moliie; ''I'm going to st;ty at home and en-
tertain Sir iioger 'rrajenna. lie is coming to luncheon."

"Seems to mo, ("ricket," said Mr. Waliaven, "Sir Iioger
Trajonna hang'^ after you like your shadow. What doi s it
mean.-* '

" It moans — making your charming ward Lady Ti'ajenna,
if he can, of cniu-se. "

" I'.iit he's as old as the hills, MoUie."

" 'JMien rii be a fasciiuiling young widow all tiie sooner."

" .Di^^gusting!'■ (xe'laimed Mrs. (Jarl W'ahaven. " ^'ou arc
perfectly heail!ess, Mollie Danel"

She 8we()t from the room to dress for her shopping expe-
dition. It was almost twelve when .'^lie was fairly olT, and
then Mollie summoned her maid and gave her sundry direc-
tions with a very serious face.

" J am going to speiul the m'>rning in the blue room, ]\Iar-
garet," yhe said; "and I expect four gentlemen to call — Sir
Uoger Triijcnna Mr. Ingelow, Dootor Oleander, and Mr Sar-
ilonyx, "

THE UNSEEN liRIDEGROOM.

" Yes, miss," said Marjrarot.

*' Sir Kogcr you will snow at once into the bine room,"
pursued the young lady; "Mr. Fiigciow into the library:
J)octor Oleander into tlie drawing-room and Mr. Sardonyx
into the breal<f;i;st-pivrl()r. Do you under^-land?"

" Yvs, miss," KHid Margaret.

"Very well, then; that will do. I am going to the blue
room now, and don't you forget my directions, or 1 irhall box
your ears."

Miss Dane sailed off. Margaret looked after her with a
queer fai'o.

" She'd do it, loo! I wonder what all this means? Some
pieoe of misehief, I'll be bound I"

The baronet arrived, prnni[)t to the hour, and was ushered
at once into the presence of his enchantress. Fifteen minutes
after came Dr. Oleander, shown l)y demure Margaret into the
drawing-room; and scarcely was iio seated when tiuir-a-ling!
went the bell, and the door was opened to Mi. Hugh Ingelow.
Mr. Ingelow was left to cftmpo.se himself in the library. Then
there was a pause, and then, last of all, arrived Mr. Sardonyx.

The blue room lieli rang. Ma.garet ran up and met her
mistress at the door.

" Arc they all down-stairs, Margaret?" in a whisper.

"Yes, miss."

"Then show them u}- in tlie order they arrived. 1 don't
want Sir Roger to know they've been kcjit waiting."

Margarc'„ obeyed. In two minutes she opened the blue-room
door, and announced Dr. ON-uvler.

The doctor advanced with an expectant smile; recoiled, u
second later, at sight of th'i baronet, with a frown.

" (iood-day, doetor," saiil Miss Dane, poliLcly. "Happy
to see you. Lovely morning, is it not?"

Tlio'doetor dropped into a seat. Hardly had he taken it,
when — "Mr. Ingelowl" evolaimod Margaret, opening the
door.

Mr. Irigelow started, and stared at sight of the trio, where
he had looked for but one.

Miss Dane greeted him with smiling cordiality, and there
was nothina: for it but to sink into a chuir.

Iiefoie Mollie's lat word of welcome was littered, the door
©])ened for the third tiaio, and enter Mr. Sardonyx.

The tableau was indcKcriftubly iuilicrous. The four men
glared atone anotiier vengefidly, and then four pairs of eyes
turned indignantly uj)on Miss Dane for an exphuiatiou. They
hud it.

THE UNSEEN TiRinEGROOM.

" Gentlemen," said Miss Dane^ with her sweetest smile, " I
invited yon liere this morning because you are very piiiticuhir
fi'iends, Jind I wii^hcd to give you an agreeable surprise be-
fore all the avenue knows it. Doctor Oleander, Mr. ingelow,
Mr. Sardonyx, allow mo to present to you my plighted hus-
band, Sir Koger Trajenna. "

CIIAPTErt VI.

JI L L I E ' S J5 K I D A L .

Imagine that tableau!

P'or an instant there was dead silence; a bomb bursting in
their midst could hardly have startled them more. Mollie
dared not look in their faces, lest the inward laughter that
convulsed her should burst forth.

Sir Eoger Trajenna, a little surprised, yet bowed with gen-
tlemanly ease, while the three young men sat perfectly thun-
der-struck.

The dead blank was broken by Dr. Oleander.

" Permit me to congratulate Sir IJoger Trajenna," ho said,
bowing to tliat gentleman; "and ])ermit me to thank Miss
Dane foi tliis exceedingly unexi>ected mark of preference. If
it is evor in my power to return your condescension, Miss
Mollie, believe mo you will find my memory good. 1 wisli
you all good-morning."

iiis immovable face had not changed, but his gray eyes
flashed one bright, fierce glance at Mollie, that said, plainly
as words, " I will have revenge for this insult as sure as my
name is Guy Oleander'.''

Put saucy Mollie only answered that sinister look by her
brightest glance and smile; and taking his hat. Dr. Oleander
strode away.

Then Mr. Sardonyx arose. Ho had been sitting like a
statue, but the words and departure of his fellow-victim
seemed to restore consciousness.

" Am 1 to understand. Miss Dane, that tlii-s is the answer
you meani when you invited me hero to-day?" he stendy
asked.

" Did 1 really invite you? Oh., yes! Of course, Mr. Sar-
donyx, it mu«t have Ijiiu. 1 purposely kojit njy engagement
secret since my return from W'asliington in order to give you
an agreeable surprise."

" I am extx'cdingly obiigod to you. IJelievc me, I will prt)''^?
my gratitude if ever opportunity oilers,"

THE UNSET5N imiDEfiROOM.

Miss Dane bowed and smiled. ISir Itogcr looked hopelessly
bewildered. Mr. Sardonyx took his hat.

" Farewell, Miss Dune, and many thanks."

He was gone. Hugh Ingolow ulono remained — Hngh Inge-
low, white and cold .as a dead man. J.loilie'.s heart smote her
cnioUy for the second time at sight oi' him. He arose as the
lawycn' disappeared.

"■ You have nothing more to say to me, Miss Dane?"

MoUie lifted her eyebrows.

" My dear Mr. Ingclow, what should I possibly have to say
to you, except that wo will always be most happy to seo you —
Sir Koger and 1?"

" Always," echoed the baronet, with a stately bend.

"You are very kind. (Jood-day, Sir Koger Trajenna.
Congratulations on so eminently suitable a match would be
I)repostcrous. Farewell, Miss Dane. I, tco, know how to re-
member!"

With the words he passed out. Sir Koger turned with
something like a frown to his bride-elect.

" What does it mean, Mollie?"

Mollie laughed — such a gay, girlish laugh!

"Can't you see, Sir Iioger? They are nearly frantic with
jealousy, the three of tluTii. What fim it was to see them
sitting tlicro and scowling at one another!"

" Hut they threatened, did they not?" the baronet asked,
t;Li'- frowning.

' i)id they? They said they would remember, and I think
'. li ^ "y likely tlioy will. I'oor fellows! Jt was natural, and
1 «'& i'fc mind."

"■' Aud when am I to speak to your guardian now?"

" As soon as you please — after luncheon, if you like. I
don't suppose ho'll object,"

" Certui' Iv not," Sir Koger said, proudly; " and then, my
dearest, when am I to have my lovely liltle wife?"

" Oh, 1 don't know! It isn't well to bo in any hurry.
Wait a year or two."

" A year or two!" cried Sir Koger, in much the same ton«
as if she had said a (X'ntiiry or two. " Impossible — utterly
ini|)<w'^ij,)le, Mollie!"

'' Well, then, a month or two. 1 am not in uny hurry to
bo marrioil, and I don't see why ym nhoidd be."

" My darling little Mollies if yon loved me luilt as much as
I love you, yoii would understand. And you will really be
mine in h month?"

THE LNSEEN lUlIDEGHOOM.

" Or two. Yes, if yoti insist upon it. If I am to be Lady
^J'rajonini lirst or last, it may as well be first, I suppose."

"^ AihI you will unt cliiin;^re your niiiKl?"

" Of course not," said Mollie, iiuli^^-nantly. " When Mollio
Dane givei her wnl, tiu; laws of tho Akdes anil — what's their
naint's? — are nothing' to it. J)on't ttase, tSir lioger. AVhen 1
promise a th'^rr it^ as j^ood as done.''

Mollie dan ' ■ v to the j^iano, and htld her infatuated
banniet spiIl-bo iitil luncheon tini-,'.

At tab!-; Mr. ai: Irs. Walraveii nut lin m. and immediate-
ly after the meal th>? baronet formally rcfjucsted the pleasure
of a piivale iriter\ ieiv.

" Can he really be goinj:; to a^k for Mollii'?" thought Mr.
Walravvn. '* Upon juy word, if lie 1;^, this is quite a new rul"
for me — playing the |.iirt of venerable 2)arent, and that to t;
white-haired g.ntb'Uian who numbers a round score more
years than myself."

He led the way to his study, followed bv (ho baronet. And
Sir IJoger eame to tho point al once, calmly, j)roudly, with
grave dignity.

" The di-parity of years is great, I know," he said. " lUit
if she is willing to oveiloe.k that objecti(.n, you surely nmy.
There is no other dratvback that I am awaie of. A ^rrajtMma,
of Trajf-nna, might mate with tht; highest in England. "

lie lifted his white, erect head haughtily, and looked Carl
Walraven full in the fuee. Jlr. Wiilravcn held out his hand
ami grasped the b;ironet's cordially.

" My d^ar Sir I'n'ger, I am j)roud and hiippy beyond ex-
j)re3sion. Mollie may < onsi ler herself a fortimate girl to es-
cape the wild young scapegraces who dangle after her, and
find a hus'eand in a man like you. She stands alone in the
world, poor child, without father or mother. You, ISir lioger,
must be all the world to her now."

" Ibaven iKlttinc me. I will!" tlic old man said, earnestly.
" My whole life .-hull be devoted io lier liiippiness. "

"And when is it to be?" Mr. \Vidr;i\i'ii asked, with a
Fmil *. '* I pn -iiime you and Mollis hiive settled thai;"*

" In two moii'liS. It will be spiioe then; ar.d we can start
at once f'r Waleo. 1 long to show my laiiy iaide old Tin-
jenna Ca<?t!e."

" We ^h ill mi-ij her very mie]!:" and Cnrl Walraven .si;.hed
in good earnest as he said it. '' 8'k' ha- been the sunlight of
our houie. My poor oltl mother will aimoHt le. ek her Ijearl;
but it 1- f (r Mi.Ilit:'t; jL'Ood, lurl a'i Nellj.di considerations muht
jjirc *ay. You are aware, »Sir lioger, tihe hab no dower?"

THE UXPEEN" RnTDEGROOM.

4.5

*' Sho nc'oda none," Sir Ko<.^er said, proudly. " My foituno
jfl princely; hf^r settlements slial] be as ample lis though sha
v.-f:ro heireus to milliou;'. I bt-liiPu tlvre is noihiug mon*, Mr,
W'alravon, and so let na rejf-in the liidies. '^

'J'ho n'i'.v.s .spread like wihllir* —'he avi nuo was elf ( I rilifd,
Mollie Daiio— -little, corpiettish Mol'io Daiio — sprung from no-
body kni!vv where, to curry oil the areaL Welsh baronet, in
spite of them all. The man must be in his dolB^^a'!

Mr. Wairaven'd ant^•CL'dent.s were myritorlous etioui:li, in all
consuienee; but tlio antecedents oi this wild ward of his were
tt'n timerf more yo. ]>ut, in npite of all, the engagement waa
an accomplished fact.

Every day, beneath the baleful glare of angry female eyes,
Mollie bane went riding and driving anl walking with tho
stately, white-haired old nullior.aire, who bent over her as
obsequiously jis though she were a duchess born.

The women might go wild with envy, the men go mad with
jealousy; bnt the davs and the weeks went on, and the fairy
grew more radiantly beautiful with each. And the wedding-
day came, and the guests were bidden, and all was ready, on
a scale of unparalleled miigndicenco. And who was to know
the wedding would never hv?

Mollie's bririal night! '^I'he big brown-stone mansion wa,-i
one blaze of light. The ceremony Wiis to take place in the
lofty <l"awing-room, and be follow d by a ball. This some-
what obsolete way (tf doing tidngs was by the express desire of
Sir Uogin-. and on the morrow they were to start by steamer
for the old lanil. It was all one to Molhe, and Mr. and Mrs.
Walraven acijuiesced in every wish of the Welshnuin.

The hour lix'd for the ceremony was ten o'clock. It was
nearly nine, and up in her own room the bride stood, under
the hands of her nuiid, robi'd for I he sacrifice.

it was a saca'illce, though giddy Mollie had never thought it
,80 before. Now, when it was too late, her heart began tti fail
hor.

He was dreadfully ohl, this stalely Sir IJoger. She didn't
care for him iti the U^atit, except as she might care for some
nice old g'undfather; and then there was Hugh Ingelow —
liundsome II ugh I

IJut at this point Cricket caught hor breath and her
thoughts with a gasp.

" Mollie, Mollie. Moliiel Uow dare you, you wicked, crazy
girll Thinking of Ilugdi Fn;,'! low, when you oughtn't to re-
member there's another nnm alive but Sir lioger Trajeiuial I
wouldn't marry poor llu;,di when he wanted me— a lucky

THE UNSEEN" I'.UI PEG ROOM.

es(;aj)e for him — antl I'm nol. going to pine away for him now,
wlioii it's hi^'li treason to do it."

" Hurry, Margaret, " the bride said aloud. " Malio mo ju.st
as pretty as ever you van."

The three vej(M!ted Kiiitors Ir.ul beon invited to tiio bridal
hall, and, singuliir to relate, had come.

But their discomfiture had been so singular altogether that
perhaps they thought it as well to match Mollie in (.'oohiess.

There they were at least, regarding one another in th-.) odd-
eat way, and Mrs. Walraven, gorgeous in amlior moire, siilled
up to her cousin, and hissed venomously in his ear:

" So the vicious Guy Oleatuler has lost his little game,
after alll Blue-eyed AloUie is destined to be ' My Lady,' iu
spite of his teeth. "

" ' There is many a slip ' — you know the jiroverb, madarao. '

It was all he said; but his sinister smile, as he moved away,
said a great deal.

Hugh Ingelow, very pale, stood leaning against a marble
column, all wreathed with festal roses, not as white as his own
handsome face.

"What are they plotting, 1 vender?" he thought. "No
good to her. They hate hor, as I ought to, but as I can't,
poor, pitiful fool that I ami liut my time may come, too. ,1
said i would not forget, and will not."

The bride-maids, a gay group of girls, came lluttering into
the " nuwde?i bower " to see if the briile was ready.

" For the clergyman is down-staiis, anJ the guests are as-
sembled, and Sir Roger is waiting, and nothing is needed but
the bride."

"A very essential need," res])onded Mollie. "I'm not
going to hurry myself; they can't get along without me. A
letter, Jjucy? Fur me? From whom, 1 wonder?"

The girl had entered, bearing a note in a buiT envelope, ad-
dressed, in a sprawling hand, to " Miss Mollie Dane."

" Tiio young person that brought it is waiting in the hall,
misi," said Lucy. " I didn't want to take it, and 1 told her
you was just about getting married, but it was no u^e. She
said it was a matter of life or death, and you'd be .sure to p.iy
attention to it if you were before.tho altar."

But Mollie had not listened. She tore open the bull en-
velo[)e, and the gazers saw her turn deathly })ale as she read.

She crushed the letter in ber hand and turned impetuously
to the girl.

" Where is the person \rho brought this? 1 must seu her

THE UNSEEN BRIDEGROOM.

at oneo. Briiip; her here; and you, young ladies, let me speak
two words 1,0 her in private."

Tiu' youn^f ladies trooped out,"and the bride was loft alone,
paler than her snowy robes.

A moment, and Lucy was back with the bearer of the let-
ter, a res[)ectable-lookiiig young person enough.

Lucy left her mistress and the girl standing together. Five
minutes after the bell rang sharply. Lucy hastened back; on
the threshold the bride met and stopjied her, with a white,
startled face.

" Tell them to postpone the ceremony for an hour, Lucy.
Com.8 back here then. For the next hour 1 wish to be left
alone, 'd'ell AFr. Walraven. "

She shut the door in the ama^^cd attendant's face. Lucy
heard the key turn. A second she stood jjetrifled, then she
hastened olT to deliver her message.

Mr. Wah'aven stood aghast. Lucy was jilied with ques-
tions. Who was the girl? What was she like? What had
she said? Where had she come from?

8ir Koger was wildly alarmed at first, but Mr. Walraven
reassured him. The company waited, on the qui rirc, for
they knew not what. Fleven o'clock came. Jjucy went up
to the bride's room; the door was still fast; she knocked —
there was no reply; she called — there was no answer. Then
Lucy screamed, and in a twinkling a crowd was around the
doer. They shook it, they rapped, they called, all in vain.
Dead silence reigned.

" Force the door!" exclaimed Carl Walraven, hoarsely.

Strong men for(;ed it. 'I'hero was a rush in, a recoil, a cry
of consternation, for the ai)artment was em])ty; the bird had
flown.

How the search began no one ever knew, but begin it did.
The house was hunted from top to bottom; still in vain. Not
a trace of the bride could bo found.

The wedding i>arty dispersed in wild confusion, but the
search went on. Through the night it lasted; but morning
broke, and still no trace. 'J'he bride had disappeared as if
the earth hail opened and swallowed her up!

onAPTKR vn.

wrii:i,!: iiiiv nniitH wam.

TnE letter in the bull envelope which had so startled Rroliio
was very l)rief. There were but ei^ht er nine lines, wrctch»
edly scrawled:

THE UNSEEN BKIDEGKOOM.

" iMoLi.iK I'ANF. — Come to nio at once, i' yoii v/ant to (Inil
nut wlio yon .ire, wlio your parents were, what I'iul Wiilravcn
is to you. Tiiin is your vvediling-night; but come. J am very
ill — (lying; 1 niiiy not see morning. If you di'luy, it will be
too late. Tlie btM:L'r is my friend; she will conduot you to
me. Tell no one. Carl Walraven will prevent you, if ho
can. I say to you, come— come — come.

"Mjuiam."

If there was one tiling on eartli that flighty Moliio was really
in earnest about, it was in knowing her own history, lltr
marriage sunk into insignitieanoe in compaiiaon.

tShii dispat' bed Lucy at cnce for the bearer of the note, sent
her friends to tlio rigliL-abnut, and clustded herself with tho
young woman — a pale young woman, wiih darl; eyes and an
intelligent face.

*' \Cho are you?" abruptly demanded the bride, looking
curiously at her.

"Sarah Grant," answered the young woman — "a sho])-
girl."

" Who sent you with this note?"

" A woman who lodges in the f-amo liousc — a I all, gauut,
half-crazcl lnoking crealure. (She is dangerously ill."

Tho girl ansuered straighiforwaidly, gazing round her tho
while in o[)en-eyed admiration.

"■ Do vou know her name?"

" We call her old Miriam: she refuses to tell her name. 1
have done lil;tle things for her since she has been ill, and eho
begged me so hard to fetch you this letter that 1 could not re-
fuse."

" Do you know its contents?"

" Only that you are expected to return with mc. She told
mt! that she iiaJ sometliujg to say to you that you would give
half your life to hear."

*' is the house fur from this?"

"Yes, mi.NS, a long way; but 1 came iji a carriage. It is
waiting lound the corner. Miriam told me to hurry; that it
was a matter of life or death, and she gave me money to pay
for tho hack. It was absolutely necessary you lihould know,
ehe said, before you ma'Tied any one."

Mollie miisbd a momr-'it. She never thought of doubting
rU tliici. Of courtsf'., Miriam knew all about her, and of courao
it was likely she would wish to tell her on her death-bed.

" T will go," she .said., suddenly. " W.iit ouo inslanU"

She summouud the burvuut, gave her the mcsBagc that had

THE UNSEEN BRIDEOROOM.

caused such consternation, locki'd the door, ami thraw over
her glittoring bridal robes a long vvattT-t)roof cloak thut cov-
ered her fiom head to foot. Drawing the iiood over her head,
.she stood ready.

•' Now," said Mina Dane, ra[)i(lly, " we will not p^o ont by
the front door, because I don't want any one to know I have
quitted the liouse. Come this way."

She opened one of the long windows and stepped out on the
j)ia/.'/a. Sarah followed.

Some distance on there was a llight of stairs leading to a
paved back-yard, 'i'hey descended the stairs, walked down
the yard, passed through a little gate, and stood in the
street, under the bright ni^jht sky.

" Now, Miss Grant," said Mollie,

■ii

car-

,'j"

wuere is your
riage;"

" At the corner of tlie avenue, miss. This way."

Two minutes brought them to the corner. There stood the
hack.

Sarah made a motion for Miss Dane to prccodo her. Mollio
stepped in; tlu; giid followed, clo.Mng the door securely after
her, and the hack started at a furious pace.

" IIow dark it is!" exclaimed Mollie, impiitieutly. "You
sliould make your driver light up, MiLis (Irant."

" There is sullicient light for our work." a voice awswered.

Mollie recoiled with a slight shriek, for it was not the voice
of Sarah Cirant.

A dark ligure started out of the corner on the moment, her
hands were grasped, and a handkerchief swifily and surely
bound round her mouth. It was no longer in her j)ower to
raise an alarm.

" Now bind her eyes, Sarah, " said the voice. " I'll secure
her hands. My pretty bird, it's of no use struggling. You're
wifely and surely snared."

ller eyes were baiulagcd, her hands bound, and Mollie ortt
utterly helpless and bcwddered— a prisoner.

She could neither see, nor move, nor speak. The hack was
rattling at a fearftd i)ace over the stony streets. Its noise
would have drowned her cries had it been in her power to utter
any.

" Now, my dear Miss Dane," said that unknown voice, very
close to her ear, and all at once, in French, " I'll answer all
the (piestions I know you are dying to ask at this moment,
and answer them truthfully. 1 hju ak in French, that the
good Sarah beside us may not comiiiehend. Vou understand
the language, I know."

THE UNSEKK lilMDEGllOOM.

lie knew her, then! And yot she utterly 'ailed to recoj^nizo
lh»t voice.

" Jn tlie first ])lacp, wluil does all this mean? Wiiy this
decei)tion — this al)(iiu:tioii? Who am I? Where are you be-
hi<? taken? When are you to be restored to your friends?
This is what you would ask, is it iidt? Very well; now to
answer you. What does this mean? Why, it means that you
have made an enemy, by your atroeinus llirting, of one whom
you cruelly and shamefully jilted, who has vowed venj^funec',
and who knows how to keep that vow. Why this dece|il,ion —
this abihuition? Well, without deception it was impot-.sible to
get you away, and we know just enough about you to serve
our purpose. Miriam never sent that note; but Miriam exists.
Who am I? Why, I am that enemy — if one can be your
enemy who loves you to nuidness— a nuin you cruelly taught
to love you, and then scornfully refused. Where are you
being talien? To a safe jjlace, my charming IVIollie — safe as
' that deepest dungeon beneath tjie castle moat ' which you
liave read of. When are you to be restored to your friends?
When you have been my wife one week — not an instant
sooner."

Mollie, bound and blindfolded, made one frantic gesture.
The man by her side understood.

" That means you won't," lie sjiid, coolly. " Ah, my fairy
Mollie, imprisonment is a hard thing to bear! I love you vi^ry
dearly, 1 admire your Ingh spirit intensely; but even eaglets
have had their wings clipped before now. You treated mo
mercilessly — I am going to be merciless in my Liu'i You
don't care for this old num I have saved you from marrying.
I am young and good-looking — I blush as 1 say it — a far more
suitable husband ior you than he. You are trying to recog-
nize my voice and place me, I know. Jjeave oil" trying, my
dearest; you never will. I am j)erfectly disguised — voice,
face, llgiire. W'hen we part you will be no wiser than you
are now."

lie ceased speaking. The carriage rattled on and on
through the shining, starlit night for endless hours, it seemed
to Mollie.

Oh, where were they going, and what was to become of her?
Was it a frightful reality, or oidy a dicam? Was she really
the same girl who this night was to have been the bride of a
baronet? W'as this the nineteenth century and New York
City, or a chapter out of some old Venetian romance?

The carriage stopped at last; she heard the door open, she
felt herself lifted out; there was a rush of cold air for an in-

THr; UNSKEN intlDEOROOM.

ttuiit, tliin tlioy eiitored aliourfu; a door closed behind them,
un;l slio wii-! hein;; bonin upstairs uiid into u room.

" T\'')w tli;it wo liavc iirrivi'd, Miss .Mollic," said tl)at stranizo
voice, " wo H'ill iiobind you, and you ruall'' must overlook tho
hard iieccr'sity which conijipjled so ftrdutr a coiir.so toward a
la ly. I i,Mvo yuii fair warning,' thai it w'il bo of no u>ni strain-
ing your liiii^s scriaming; for if you bln'iel\ed for a month,
no onn would hear you tiirough "those padded walls. Mow,
th.'n:-'

lie took the gag from her mouth, and Mollio eau/xht her
breath with a gas]). llu untied tlu! bandage round her I'ves,
anii for a sucond or two s-he was daxzleil In tin- .iidden blazo
of light. 1 ho instant she could see, she turned lull upon hor
ab'luctor.

Alas and ala'; ho wore a bluek mask, a llowing wig, a
\)eard, and a long cloak reachiiig to the lluor.

lie wad a tall man— that was tlu! only thing Mcdlie could
make out of the di^iguisu.

"Miss Daiuidoes m)t spare me; but it is all in vain. Slio
mi\y ga:',() until htM- l(»vely eyes dri')) from their sockets, and
i Ik; will not recogril/ce me. Ami liow 1 will li'avti you. 1 will
intrude upon you as litthf as is al'solutely jiossible. jfyou
need a?iyLliing. ring the bell. (Jood-night, my beautiful
Mollic, and ha]»]>y dream.;."

Jle bowed polilelv and moved toward tho door. Mollie
mail' a ste[) towartl him, with upraised arm:

".Stay!"

The man halted at once.

" How long am 1 to be imprisoned here?"

" My fair one, I toLl you before: until you consent to be-
come my wife."

"Are you mad?" exclaimed Mollie, scornfully; "or do
you think I am? Your wife! J am here in your power — kill
me, if you dare, you cowardly abiluctoil 1 will die ten thou-
sand deaths— I'll live on here until my heail is hoary — I'll dash
my brains out against yonder wall, but I'll never, never, never
become your wife!"

Tiie man shrugged his shoulders.

" Strong language, my dear; but words, words, wordsl 1
won't kill you, and you won't live here until your head is
lioary. Cioiden loiiks like yours are a long time turning gray.
And you won't dash your brains out against the walls, beeauso
the walls are padded. Is tliore auvihing else vou wisli to sav,
Miss Dane?"

" Only this," with blazing eyes, " that whoever you are,

THE UNSEF.N KRIOEGROOM.

you aro the vile:^t, bisost, iiiosb cowunlly wretch on tho wide
earth! (lo! I wouNi inunler you if I was iihlol"

" Not i\ floubt ol' it, luy iiii^'t'll Oiico uiorc, good-niyhtl"
IIu bovvbil low, piis-Jiici out, iuul locked tho door. Alollio
was aloiH' in Iut pri.soii.

Now, littli! ('ri(;ket, fairy th:it slio wua, was yet bravo as any
giantess. Not a dnp of craven blood llowed in her .s[)iriied
veins. Tiierel'ons left alone, she neither wept, nor raved, nor
tore her hair; but took a prolon;;ed survey of lier siuround-
iuos.

It was a hirgo, lofty room, lighted by a sinj^lo gas-jet, de-
pemkiut from tlie i;eiling. The four walla were tbiokly
waJiled, and tliero were no winilows, only one dcor, no i)iet-
iires, no mirror — notbin;^ but a few stutTetl eliuirs, a table, a
lavatory, a bed. J)ay-tlnie and nij^ht-timo would be tho same
here.

" Well," said Mollie to herself, drawing a long breath, " if
tills does not cap the t,'lobv'I Am I really Mollie Dane, and is
this New York Citv, or am 1 ])laying private theatricals, and
gone back to tlu; Dark Ages? Who, in the wide world, is that
mysterious man? And, oh 1 what will they say at home this
dreadful nighl?'*

.She removed her cunibersomo mantle and threw it upon the
bed, looking ruefully about her.

" I wonder how long I am to be kept hens? Of course, I'll
never yielil; but it's going to be frightful, if I am to be im-
prisoned for weeks and weeks. I won't ring for Uiiit deoei'ful
Sarali Grant, and I'll never give in, if they keep me until tho
day of ju.lgment."

tShe bewail p:u:ing up and down the room. Death-like still-
ness reijrned. Hours pa.^'Sed. Weary with tho long drive, she
threw herself upon the bed at last, and fell fast asleep.

A noise near auoke her after a prolonged slumber. She
looked up; the gas still burned, but she was no longer alone.
iSarah stood b'/ the table, arranging a temi»ting brcalifast.

" What's that?" ab' " "

►Sarah court.'siod respectfidly.

" Your breakfast, nuss. "

" It is to-morrow, then?" said Mollie.

" It is to-day, miss," responded the girl, with a smile.

"What's the hour?"

" Past eight. Miss Dane."

" Aro you gning to stay here with me?"

" No, miss."

uptly demanded Mollie.

ti
ti.

THi: IKSKKN BnTDF.GUOOM.

" Wliy ili 1 voii toll mo fiK^h lies last ni;:;lit, you bliiunoful
girl?"

" I to!iI von what I wuu ordered to tell you.'*

" Bv whonir'

'* Mv niiiBtir."

" Who it- your miiater? OIJ Siitati?"

" I ho[«( not. mi-*-!. "

" Who, thru? Whiit iri his nnmo:"

" Exoiiso ni(*. Mi.-M Diiiu'," uiiid tiio girl, quietly. " I. rnuat
an.-'wor no (ineritioo:;. "

" ^'ou ivi' H hiird-hpiirtod creature, and yen on^'h'; to hu
i!s!i!»meil of yourrfvlf!" exclaitncd Mollie, iudij^nautly.
*' \\ here is v'jur muster? ifcrc?"

" Mi~8 Dane, ] repeat il. — 1 can answer no rin.- ions, atul I
must po. Hero is vour breakfast. I hopes you will enjov it."

"Yes," said Mollie, scornfnUy, " it is vo.-v l.ki'ly I'dmll
enjoy eatinj,' and drinkiii;^' iii this plarel 'I'ake it away. 1
don't want victual • — I mean to starve mvsclf to death."

l)Ut elie lo'/kcd at the table as t*he f-p )ke, and w;m inwjirdlv
not at all dispk-asi'd tos(0 the gr.KliMi coii'ce, the buckwheat
cakes, the cLrtrs, and ham, and toast.

" r s!)a!l hrini,^ you your dinner at noon, mis.s." said Saridi,
moviu},' toward tln^ dimr, and not heediii'^ her. " If you want
me before noon, please to riii'.'. "

*' Slop!" said Mullie. " And, oli, for goodness gracious
sake, do tell mo whoro I ami"

She held uj) her ba;ids imploringly — poor, cagcl little star-
ling!

" I am sorry, miss," Sarah said, and her fane showed it;
" hut indeed — indeed J can't I I daren't! I've promised, and
my master trusts me. 1 can't break my word."

Sho was gone as she spoke, lurking the door "gain, and
^rollie got up with a lu'avy sigh. 8ho luid takeu olT only her
outer garments befoio Iving down; and alter washing, and
combing out her bright sillren hair, she resumed the glittering,
bride-like liiu'ry of the evening before. I'oor M'.lliu looked at
the bilver-shining silk, the cobweb lace, the gleaming, milky
pearls, with a very rueful face.

" And 1 was to have been awav on my bridal tour by this
time," sliH thought; " and pour Sir Koger is half mad bcforo
this, J kno»r. Oh, dear! it'o very nit:c to read al)Out young
ladies being carried off in this way, but the reading is much
nicer than the icality. J shall dlo if they keep me hero four-
aud-twenty hours longer."

liy way of prcpariug for dcalli, Miss Vaao promptly sal

TSf unseen jsridegkoom.

down [,i> the table and eat hor breakfast with Iho hearty ap-
petite of youth Jiiul good health.

" It'tJ better than Itoinii; i'ed on breail and water, anyhow/^
she rctloeted, as she thiirflicd; " but J sliould ;j;really prefer the
bread and water, il' sweetened with freedom. Wliat on earth
shall I do with myself? If they had only left me a bookl"

Ihit they hadn't, and the low^, dull hours wore on — how
lo)ig ;uid how dull ojily prisoners know. ]5ut noon eann; at
last, and with it eanie Sarah, carrying a sroond tray. J\Io!lie
was on till! watch foi the door to open. 8he had some vague
idea of making a rush for it, but there stood a stalwart man
on guard.

" Hero is your dinner, Miss Dane. J hope you liked your
breakfast."

I'ut the sight of the sentinel without had n)ade Mollie .sulky,
and t;lie tuniod her liack uj)on Ih" girl with silent eontemj't.

Sarah departed, and ^lollio sidltred her dumer to stand and
grow cold. She was too (iross to eat, but by and by sho awoke
to the fact that she was hungry.

" And then it will help to pai's the time," thought the un-
hapjiv prisoner, sitting doivn. " ]f I could cat all the time, I
shoulilirt so mueh mind."

After dinner she coiled lierself up in one of the arm-ehaii"^
and fell fisleep. .She slept long, and av»'oke refreshed, but
what thiv, it was shu could imt juilge; eternal gas-light and
sileruje reigned in her prison.

" Oh, dear, dearl wliat will become of me if this sort of
thing gois on?" cried Mollie, rdoud, staroiiig up and wringing
her han.lri. " I shall go stark, starinir m;!(l! Oh, what crime
did my father and mother ever (;om:uit, that their sin should
be viriited upon me like this? I wii! stab myself with the
carving-knife to-morrow, after dinner, if thi;::. keeps on!"

Mollie paced up and down like a bcdianute, sobbing and
scolding to herself, and quito broken diwn with one day's iiu-
prisonment.

"1 thought 1 could sttiid it — I thought 1 could defy him;
I had no idea bring imprisoned was so awful. I wish J could
die and lui'.ke an end of it! I'd starve mys(df to death, only 1
get so dr(.'adfid hungry, and I daren't cut my throat, because
the sight of biood makes me siek, and I know it must hurt.
Oh, Mollie l)ane, you nuserable little wretch! 1 wish you had
never been born!"

Another dieary interval, and then for tho third time CHiut
8urah bearing a tray.

riTE "i NSKEN" I5UIDEGU00>r.

" Your siipi)(jr.

miss." 6i

liil SiUiil), E^riiiig thi'Oiigli tho I'or-

iiiij'ffrs.

miilii. " ] li'tjie you likni] \Tiur (liiiofr."

"Oil, f:iki> it awiiyl" ciic'ii MulJic, Iwi.sting Ikm'
" 1 I'iDir't \>'iint any su|ii)er — I'm go'A\<s ';nizy, I lliiukl Oh,
wliiiL a Imrd, liidly, uufuoliiig hoiirtyou must linve, you vvit;k(.ii
youuf^ woniiiii!"

JSarah looked at her ci-mpassionatuly.

" It is haul, I kuovv. Kut \v!iy didn't you. do as master
wi'^hed you, auil gt t awuv?'

" Mai-ry hinil llow dare you? I vish 1 could poison liiml
I'd do that with tlio greatest plua.-u.f. ' '

" Tlicn you must h;tay ht-M-, tni;^s, for weeks and weeks,
monlii-ii and uiontlis, and every day be like tlds. Your friends
will never lind you — never!"

" Sarah, look here! 1 shall bo dead in a week, and I'll
haunt you — I vow I will! I'll haunt you until I make your
life a misery to you I"

8at;di smiled quietly.

" I am not afraid, uiiss. You're a great deal too young
and too healthy to die; and you won't kill ycniiielf, for life is
too sweet, even in pri.-:on. The best thing you can do is (o
marry master, and be restored to your friends."

"Sarah (Jrant — if that be your name," said MoUie, with
awful I almness — " go away! if you cudy (;oni(> here to ins'ult
mo like that, don't ciitiu' here at all."

Sarah eourte.-ied respectfidly, and immediately left, lliit
lier words had made their mark. In s])ite of ^Mollie's appeal-
ing dignity, any avenue of eseapc — eveti th;it — was begiiuiliig
to look inviting.

" Suppose 1 went thro\igh the form of a cen^mony with this
man?'' museil MoUii-. " It woiddn't mean ■ nylhinL'. y;iii
know, because 1 did it npon compulsion; and, immediaftiv J
got out, 1 should go straight and murry Sm IJoger. lUit I
won't do it — of couise, 1 won't! I'll be imju'isoned furever
before I yield!"

Uiit you know it has got to be a ])rovcrb, " ^Vhen a woman
hesitates, she is lost." Mollie had begun to hesiiat^o, and
Mollie was lost.

All that long niplit she never slept a wink. She lay awake,
tossing and tumbling on the bed, or pacing up and down the
lloor. in i\ sort of delirious fever. And —

" If 1 thought for certain sure lui would let me go after the
sham ceiennniy was performed, I would marry him," was the
.conclusion she had arrived at by morning. " l\'o nuUter v.hai
happens, nothing can be half so bjul us this."

-J 6

THE VK-EEN T!RII)T:GR00M.

It Wiv; inoining, tbough MoIIie did not know it, when she
threw herself on ihv; bed, and for thu second time fell asleep.
And sleipiDg", the urnani^'d. Siie tvas ttiindini; up before the
niiaiatcr, to be mariied Lo Ihe masked man. The ceremony
went on — ^Jirium was bride-maid and Sir lioger Trajenna
g'we her awav*. The certmony ended, the briili oro.'in turned
to saliiLii the biide. " Ihit ilcA 1 mual icni'ive my mask," ho
j-aid, in a gtrangely familiar voice; and lii'iing it oil", MoUio
saw bmilinLT down upoti her the nu)ft bvantiful Ta! e ever mor-
tal wore, lamiiiar a^ the voice, yet leaving; lur equally unable
to place it.

It may seem a little thing, but little tiling*? weigh with
young ladies in Ihiir scventeenih year, and this dream turned
"the, scale. MoUie thought about it a great deal that morning
as t^he made lier toilet.

" J wonder if lie is f-'o very handsome? [ like lnu;dsorae
men," mused Mollie. " He told me ho was, and I know ho
must be, if he ever wa.i a ilirtee of mine. Mr. Sardonyx is
the plainerft man I ever let nuike love to me, and even he was
not ab.--:oIutclv plain. 1 ehouhln't wonder i;" my eai)L«)r \\:'n)
Jie, or else Doctor Oleander. Oh, wliy — why — why (-m't I
recognise that voice?"

That day wore on, long, drearily, endleHsly, it seemed to
poor Mollie. Jt.s dull course was l)roken, as usual, by Sarah
fetching the daily nu als; and it ended, and night; came, and
f-'*:ll MoUie had not .spoken.

Another day dawned, and its dawning brought the dimax.
She had passed a t^h-efdi'ss night, and awoke feverish, unre-
freshed, and utterly desperate.

" If it was death instead of marriage 1 had to undergo,"
said Mollie to herself, " I s-houid prefer it to this slow tt)tture.
It's horrid to yield, but it's a great deal moic liorr.d lo hold
out. I'll yield."

Accordingly, when Sarah came up with the morning meal,
Mk^s Oano promptly addressed her:
" Sarah, is your nuister in the house?"
" Not at p/esent, miss."

])o you expect him

y>>

Oil, yes, missl ife comes evtiry day.'
" Is he coming up here no more until 1 send for him?"
'* f think not, n)is-. Jle is a great deal too polite to force
'-imsi If upon a lady."

A glance of withering scam f.oni Mollie.

" lie is a cowardly, eontem^Aiblu tyrant, and you are a vilo,

THE UXSEEi^ BRIDEGROOM.

lost creature and tool I But that is not what 1 wanted to say.
As soon as he comes, tell liini I widli to see him."

" Very well, miss."

Sarah (lt'|):uLe.l. The long hours d ragged on — oh, so long!
— oh, so long! MolUe could take no breakfast that morning.
She could ordy walk up and down lier jjiison-chamber in a
frenzy of imj^'Uienee for the coming of the man tiie liated.

He came at last — cloaked and masked, and wearing the false
hair and beard — utterly unrecognizable.

" At last. Miss Dane," be calmly said, " you have sent for
me. You are tired of your prison? You long for freedom?
You accede to mv term-.?"

" Yes," 8;iid Mr)llie, with a sort of s' bbing cry, for the felt
utterly broken down. " Anything, anytinng under heaven
for freedom! Another week like tlii^'. and 1 should gonuull
Jiut, oh! if you are a man — if you have ajiy pity in your heart
— don't ask this sanrilieu! Lei me go as I a;u! tS'e, 1 j)lead
to you! — ], wh,) never pleaded to nmrliil before! Let mr go,
for pity's sake, now, as I came! JJon't, don't, don't ask me
to marry you!"

She held up her claJiud luinds— bright tears staiiding in her
passionate eyes. ]5ut the tall, nuisked riia' ' dued up like u
dark, stern ghost.

" You were merciless to me, MoIIie Dane.''

" But I am only a girl — only a silly, ilirting girl t-f - .teeui
Oh, forget and forgive, and lut me go!"

" I can not, MoIIie, for — I love you!"

" Love me?" Alnllie repeated, seorn and anguish in her
voioo. " Love me, and torture me like thi.s!"

" It is because I love you. I torture you because you slndl
bo my wife. Mine, M )llie, miiui! ]}ecau-e yoti would mner
consi'ut of your own fieo will. It goes to my heart to hear
you plead; but I love you with my whole heart and soul, and
I can not yield."

" I shall pU-ad no more," Piiaid Mollie, proudly, turning
away; '* your heart is of stone."

" Will you consent to marry nu'. Mf-Ilie? liemcm!)or the
terms. One week fi(uu the hour that makes you my wife will
see ynu going forth fice, if you v/ish it."

" Free! wish it!" bho repeated, with unutterable [•cnrn.
"Free, and bound to you! W'i.di it, when for that pri^ilcgo
1 saerilice mvself forever! Oh. you know well 1 love my lib-
(!rty deatly, when 1 ran not lie Ihtc and rot sooner than have
my prison your wifu! But, nui:i— demon — whatever you are,"
she cried, with a sort of fren/.y, '* I do coimeiit — 1 will become

THK UKSKEX r.RTDF.GROOM.

your wife, siiKO mv only chance of quitting this horrible duD'
gL>oii lif s that uiiy!"

If Mollie could have seen the faeo behind tho mask, sho
wouil have seep, the ml glow of ti'iuiii[ih that ovensinvad ;t at
tho woriis; but aioiid ho spoke calinl}'.

" My happiness is comjilete," he feuid. " I'ul rcmc/uber,
Mi")]]ie, it v.-jll b'i no :;haui marriage, thai you v. ill hv at liberty
to break. A ri?ai clergyman shall unito us, and you must
promise me to make no aj)peal to his sympathy — to make n.^
attempt to converse with him. The attempt would be quite
useless, but you nir.st promise."

" I promise," she said, haughtily; " and Mollio Dane keeps
her word. "

" And I keep mine! A week from tho ceremony you go
fortli free, never to be disturbed by me again. I love you,
and I marry you for love and for revenge. It sounds ineon-
sistent, but it is true. Yet, my promise of vengeance ful-
filled, I shall retain you against your v.ill no longer. 1 will
lov ■ j'ou always, and you will be my wife— my wife, Mollie.
Nothing can ever alter that. 1 can alwaj's tay hereafter,
come what will. I have been blessed I"

There was a tremor in the steady voice, lie paused an in-
stant, and then went on:

*' T<t-night the clergyman will be here. Yon will bo ready .^
You will not retract your word?"

" I never retract my wor.l," Mollio said, abruptly turning
her back upon him. " I will not now. Gul"

CIIAPTlMt VIII.

THE Mil N'KillT ^lAlMliAGK.

The Kcvercnd Uaymoud Ikahle):j,h sat before a iilazing sea-
coal lire, in his uozy stuly, in c ^itil'urtablo, after-dinner mood.
He lay back in his cushioned and carved arm-chair, a llorid,
portly, urbane prelate, with irou-gray hair anil jtatriarchr.l
whiskers, a steaming glass of wine jninch at his i Ibow, that
day's paper open upon his lap, an overfed ]»ussy ])urriiig at his
knee, the genius of comfort personiticd in his own ]i)oiily per-

&0!1.

The world went well witii tho Kevorcnd lia_\tnond. Silka
ru.stlcd and (li:vraonds Hashed every Sunilay in I he cti.hioned
])e,wsof bio " ut't'iwn " church; the rh'/i'. of f' 'lliam s-at under
Jiis teaching, and his sixty years and the can's of life rested
li^ditly on Ids broad shoulders.

It had been a very smoothly ilovvin^r life— those ai.xtv voara

THE UNSEEN BRIDEGUOOSr.

— glitlinp; alonj? as ahiggishly calm as the waters of a canal.
Bui on ihis night the stiJl surface was destined to be milled —
on tbis night, so strange, so extraordinary an adventure was
destined to happen to him, that it actually compensated, in
five brief hours, for ail the lack of excitement in those sixty
years.

A wet and stormy niglit. The rain beat ceaselessly against
the cur(i\ined windows; the wild spring wind shrieked through
the city streets, icily cold; a batl, black night — starless, moon-
less.

The Iiovercnd Raymond Kasldeigh gave a little comfortablo
3liiver as ho listened to it. It was very pleasant to listen to it
in that cozy little room. He poked the blazing coals, sipped
his red port, stroked pussy, who bore a most absurd feline re-
semblance to himself, and took up his ptiper again.

For the second time ho read over a brief paragraph among
the " Personals:''

" Left IIi:m Home. — On the fifteenth instant— whether for-
cibly or of her own free will is unknown — a young lady of six-
teen years, by name MoUie Dane. Is undersized, very slight
of figure, a j)rofusion of light, cu"Iing hair, large blue eyes,
handsome features, and remarkably self-})ossessed and straight-
forward of manner. Was dressed as a bride, in white silk and
lace. Any information concerning her will be thankfully re-
ceived and liberally rewarded by her afllicLcd friends. Apjdy
personally or by letter to Mk. Caul Walravex, Ko — Fifth
Avenue, New York."

Very slowly tiio h'evorend Mr. Iiashleigh road this para-
graph to its end. lie laid down the paper and looked thought-
fully at the cat.

*' Extraordinary!" murmured the Kcverencd Kaymond,
half aloud — "most extraordinary! Like a scene in a novel;
like nothing in real life, lias the earih ojiened and swallowed
her up!-* Has she gone oiT with some younger and handsomer
lover!-* Or has she been decoyed from home by tlu; ma(;hina-
tioijs of some enemy!'' .She had in:iuy, j)oor child! 'f hat un-
fortunate Sir Kogor is like a man insane, lie is olTering half
his fortune for her recovery. Jt is really very, very extraor-
dinary. QuiLe a romance in real life. Come in!"

I'hcro had been a tap at the study door; a maidservant
entered.

" There- B a young woman down-staira, sir, wishes to see you
most particular."

THE UKSKEN BUIDEGROOM.

'* Ah, indeed! Who is she? What is her business with
me?"

" 1 don't know, sir. Something very important, she says. "

" fSho^v luT up."

The girl d-jpiirtc-d, ran dou'n-slaii's, ran up again, follotvod
by a resp{;ctal)le-looking yiuiiig woman of pieasing a^^peot.

" Wfll, my i-hild " — he wm very fatherly and bliind, was
tho Kevoreud Kaymond liadhleigh — "and what may you want
with meV

" My mistress sent me, sir. I am Mrs. Ilolywcll's maid."

" Indeed I" said Mr. Jla^jldeigl), vividly interested at onee;
"and how is Mrs. Holywell?"

" Very poorly, sir. 8iie thinks she's dying Iierself. She
wants to make her will to-night; that's why she sent for you."

Mr. Rashleigli rose with vers unwonted alacrity.

She was a distant relative of his, this dying Mrs. Holywell;
ridiculously rich for a (;hildle?s wiilow, and with no nearer heir
than the reverend paJtor of St. Pancras' Churiili.

" I will accompany you at onee, my dearl Poor I\[rs. IToly-
well! But it is tlie fate of all llesh! How did you come,
pray? It rains, d'ics it niU?"

A liercc gust of wind rattled (ho double windows, and fraa-
tically beat the rain against them by way of answer.

" I < amo in a carriage, sir. It is at the door now."

" That is well.
Mrs, Uolywell!"

I will not detain you an instant. Ah I poor

The parson's hat and overcoat hung it) iho room. In a
moment they were on; in another ho was following the very
respectable young woman down-stairs; in a third he was
scrambling after her into the I'arriage; in a fourth they were
rattling wildly over the wet, stotiy streets; in a lifih the rever-
end gentleman was grasped in a vise-like gi i]», and a voice close
to his ear — a man's voiiie — hissed:

" Speak one word, make the least outcry, and you are a
dead mun!"

The interior of the carriage was in utter darkness.

The h'everend Mr. l^ashit igh gave one ])anting gasp, and
fell back in his scat. High living and long indolence had
mane him a complete craven. Life was inestimably precious
to the portly pastor of St. Pancras'. After that one choking
giisp, be sat (juivering all over, like calves'-foot j'^lly.

" Bandage his eyes, Sarah, vvhilo I tie his haniis," said Iho
man's voice. " My dear sir, don't shake so; it is almost im-
pos.able to do anythiiig with you in this hystcrieal state.
MOW, bind his mouth, Sarah. There! I think that will do.'

THE rxsEEN r.nrDEnROOM.

BouMtl iianil.-f, iiml eyoa, and njoutli, luilf suffocatfd, wliolly
blinded, tho IJeverund iZuvnioiid li-ahleigh wan a pitiiible ob-
ject ut that iijstant. But liiere wa^ no one to piiv iiim, no
one to see him, no one to help him.

Tlio carriage whirled on, and on, and on at drrzy speed,
the wind t:iudiing by in long, lamentable gales, the rain daching
uhuiioroiisly against the closed glass,

Paralyztvl with intense terror, Mr. IJiu-hleigh sat trembling
to that extent that he threatened to topple olT his seat.

" Pra" calm yourself, my reverend friend," said that niHS-
culine voice boside him. " Xo personal harm is intended you,
and J have no designs upon your watch and purse. 1 merely
want the loan of you in your clerical rapacity, to perform the
ceremony of marriage ovtu* a runauay couplo. 1 knew you
v/ouldn't come of your own free will; therefore, I took the
trouble to ascertain about those little expectations of yours
from Mrs. Holywell, and used that goot lady, whose health, I
triiHt, is no wo:\se than usual, as a cat's-paw. You must par-
don the deception, dear sir, and you must perform the mar-
riage ceremony without, inconvenient scruples, cr hesitation,
or (piestioiis. Iio thankful, for the sake of morality, we see
the propriety of getting married at all. ^'ou are listt^ning to
me and paying atteiitii'ii to )ue, I hope?''

Paying atti^ntionl ^'es, his whole soul was absorbed in
list(ining.

" Where 1 take yo'i, who T am, you will never iind out.
Don't try, mv dear Mr. Iiashleigh, even if you have the op-
portunity. Marry me — for 1 am to be the happy bridegroom
— and don't utter another word, save and exci'[)t the words of
the ceremony, from the time you enter my house until you
leave it. If you do your part like the prudent, elderly gentle
man I take you to be, you will iind yourself ba(;k in your
pleasant studv, safe and sound, before morning dawns. If
not—"

There was an awful sound, the sharp click of a pistol. Ko
words in any known language — and the par?on knew all the
languages, deail and alive — t:ouId have lilled v\> the hiatus so
eloipiently or so convincingly.

The cold perspiration started from every pore, and each
tooth in his clerical jaws clattered like pairs of castanets.

They drove, and they drove, and they drove through the
wild, wet night, as if they meant to drive forever.

iiut they sto[)ped, after a horribly lung .nterval, and tlie
parson was helped out into the rain, out of the laiu into a
house, Jed up a llight of stairs, and seated in a chair.

THE UNSEEN BKIDEOROOM.

" Now, my deiir sir, ])2iinit mo to remove these uncomfort-
able iii(nimbriin('(}S, anil do. do try (o ovorlfok llie jituiirid
m^neasity \vhit;h compvllml iiiu to iisn tluiii. Jt goe.s to my
heart, I a>'suro you. 'J'ln rel"

'^riio liisL hi'.iuhige dioppcd to the {.(rnutid— eyoR, hinidi?,
mouth wore free, lint 'Mi: llivAiWi'^h could imike no ufc ol'
ills freedom; he ?tit pale, benumbed, eonlounded, h'-lijleas.

" ]iouse yourself, my (uar sir," wild his per^^iuuilor, j^iving

liim ii f^entle shake; " doTi't
Look u{) ami s])eak to me.''
The reverend i:i;entl.inan did

drop

p into a ('alale])lic tranee.

the

I'l^'iy

lo(,'k
bla<k

up, and uttered a f^ort of
mask frowning ^hastily

scream at sit:ht of
down upon him.

" Don't be alarmed," yaid the marked man, soothingly;
" no harm is meant you. My ma-k won't hurt you. 1
merely don't want you to recogni/e mo to-morrow, should wo
chance to niert. J\Iy briile will be ma. ked, too, and you will
marry us by our Christian names alone. Hers is Mary; mine
id Ernest. Do you understand?"

"Yes, yes!" resj)onded Mr. Kaslileigh, (juakiuf,' wilh un-
utterable terror. OhI was this a drtadful irghtmare, induced
by a too luxurious dinner, or was it a horrible reality?

" And you are ready to ])erform the ceremony? to ask no
([uestions? to mari'y us, and be gone?"

" Yes, yes, yes! Oh, good heavens I" groaned tlic Ilevorcnd
liaymonu; '* am T asleep or awake?"

"Very well, then," said this dreadfid man in the; niiisk;
"I will go for the bride. She is Maiy, riniendiej-; I am
Ernest. 1 will return in a moment."

He quittrd the room. Mr. Uashleigh stared hcljileibhly
about him, in a jiltiidjh; sitate of terror and bewildei'ment.
The room was large, wjII, even elegantly, furinslicd, with
nothing at all remari.abl .' about its eleiranee; such anotlier as
Mr. Jiashleigh's own drawing-room at lumie. It was lighted
by a cluster of ga.i-j'its, and tl)e piano, the Jirm-ehairs, the
sofas, the tables, the pictures, were all very handsome and
very common, indeed.

Ten minutes elapsed. The commonplace, every-day look
of the mvsterious room did moic lowaiii reasstirinir the trem-

bling jirelate than a
The door opened

this time with a lady hanging on his aim

1.1 '

the nuibked nuiu's words.

and the masked man stalked in again,

The lady was small and i^lcndc i-, r.bed in llowing white
silk; a rich veil of rare laoe falling over her from luad to foot
hke a cloud; u wreath of orange-blo.-oius on lur fair head;

THE I'NSEEK nniOEOROOM.

n:]

jowolri sp;i!'klit\!;' iibnufc her — evcrythin':^ j.iil an it eliould be,
mv(i thai till! J'iiiH' \v;u liiiltlcn. A rna.^k of whiter biik. giving
lior ii cnrpsc-liku juul ghastly look, covered it from forehoad
to vh'iu.

Tliu very respectable young womiin who hau inveiglnl him
out of liis study, and a f-^Iouchv-looking young inuti TdlLuvvei!,
luid took their place/! h.hind the masked [uii;.

" ViC'.nn," aii'.lioritaiively isornniandeil ihe biidegrooni.

The Jiovcrend Raymond fJa-ldeigh stood up. It was a wild
and lawless proceeding, and all wrong; but Tie ks sweet to
portly prelates of sixty, and he stood ti}) and began at once.

Mr. Kashleigli needed no book — ho knew Viw maniage aerv-
ico as pit as his j)rayi'rs. The ring was at hand; the fjiiea-
tions wt'i'e a-iki-d; the res[>onses nnido.

In five minutes the two maskm wero man and wife.

" Make o!it a eertilleate of mari'iage," saifl the bridegroom;
" these two peo[i!o will l»e witnesses. Their niunes are .Sarah
Grant and -lohn Jones."

VtiWi, ink and papci- wero placed before him. Mr. Piash-
leigli cssa\'ed to write, as well as his trembling lingers would
allow liim, au'l handed a smeared and blotted document to
the bridegioom.

" You will eider this marriage on your register, Mr. IJash-
h'igh," sai.i the man. ''1 am very much obliged to you.
i'rav acee])t this for your trouble."

Th's was a glistening roul nui o" gold. Mr. Rashleigh liked
gohl, and in sjiite of his trepidation, managed to put it in his
pocket.

" Xow. niv dear," \\v) hap])y man J^aid, turning to the littlo
wliite briiie, " you and Sariili had better retire. Our reverend
friend will wish to return home. I must see him there."

'J'lio biidc and her attendant left the room without ii word.
The biidegroom produced the bandages again.

" I regret the necessity, but 1 must bind you iigain. How-
ever, it will not Ijo for long; in a couple of hours you will be
at home. "

Willi wonderful !-kill and rapidity, hands, eyes, and mouth
were bound onee more; the j)a'.son was led down-stairs, out
into the wet night, and back to his seat in the carriage. T'he
Tuasked man took his ])Ia"e beside liim. dohn doues mounted
to the driver's perch, and they were oil' like the wind.

'I'he })romi3ed two hours were very long to the rector, but
thwy ended at last. The carriage sloppetl abruptly; he was
helped out, and tlio baiulage takt'n fr(/m his eyes and hands.

" The other must remain for a moment or twc^," said the

THE UlsSEEW BRIDEGROOM.

mysterious man w'vh tlit> mask, Kpfukinfr rapidly. " Yon aro
at the comer of your owu street.. Cioud-bvc, and nmiiy
thiinks!"

He spr!ing into tlio oarri;i/i;fl. and it was gone lik^' xi flash.
And tlie KeveriMid J?aym 'iid Kaslileigh, in tlio gray aud dis-
mal dawn of a wet morning, was left all agape in the deauited
street.

fllAPTEK IX.

O N K W K K K A F T E K .

On" that evontfnl ni^iht of wind a!id rain upon vhieh the
IJiiverend liayinoiivl ]i:i.siiic'igli pcrforniL'.! that my.-UL'rioii.s mid-
Tiight mariiago, Mr. Carl Walravfn pttct'd alone his stately
library, lost in thon^jht — painful thought; for his dark brows
were (3on traded, ami tlic; (.'reeian lua'l.s in thtf braiU<etd around
him had ud severer lines tlntn tliO.-;e about hi-^ m )uth.

While he pace?) up and down, up and down, like some rest-
less ghost, the library door opens, and his wife, magnifie'eiitly
arrayed, with jewels in her raven hair, a sparkling fan Q:ing-
ling from her wrist, an oilor of rich perfume following her,
appears before h'ui like a pitturo in a frame.

bhe is superbly handsome in that rose-colored opora-eloak,
and she knows it, and is smiling graciously; but the svvarth
frown on her husband's face only grows blacker as he looks at
her.

" You aro going, then?" caid Mr. Carl Walraveu.

"Going!''' xMrs. Wid raven anhes her black evslu'ows in
pretty surprise at th.! word. " Of couise, my dear. J would
not miss ' Kobert le Diablo ' and the ciia;ming new teuor for
world rf!"

" Kor would you obey your husband for worlds, mfidame.
I expressly desired you to stay at home."

" 1 know it, my love. Should be happy to oblige yo.i, but
in this ease it is simply impossible."

" Have you no regard for the opinion of the world?"

" Every regard, my dear."

" What do you suppose society will say to sue you at the
opera, dressed like a queen, while we are all moufiiing poor
Mollie's loss?"

"Society will say, if society has common sen-se, that Mrs.
Walraveu aeorns to play hypocrite. I diin't care for Mollio
Dane — I never did cure for her — and I don't mourn her loss
in the lea«t. I don't cure that" — the lady s.-iapped her
jovolcd lingers Komcwhat vulgarly — " if 1 never see her

THE UNRT.EN HRIDEGROOM.

again. It is aa well to till you (lie truth, my dear. One
.should have no Koorctr; from oiio'k hu^banil, liny nuy."

Sho laii;,'hfLl li;.;litly, uini drew her ffu'tii-cl ak up ovfi- her
«upcrb burc! shoulders. Mr. Walraveii's darkest scowl did not
iutirnidido her iti the leaiit.

" Leiivo Iho rocm, miulamcl" ordered lior luisband, aulh^r-
itutively; "and take you care that 1 don't asiiert my right
and cf'mpfl yf'U to obey uk*, before long,"

" Compel!" It was suiili a good joke that ?.Ir.s. Dlanehe's
silvery laugh rang through the apartment. '* ^ on oomptlled
me once, against my will, when you took your ward wiih you
on your weilding-tour. I don't think it will ever happen
again, Mr. Waluiven. And now, how do you like my dress?
1 eamo in expressly to ask you, for the carriage waits."

" Jjeave the roomi" cried Carl Walravcn, in a voice of
thunder. "PiOgone!"

*' You are violent," said I'lanehe, with a provoking shrug
and smilo, but jirudently retieatiiig. " You forget your voice
may be heard beyond tliis room. Since you lost your ward
you appear al.'^o to have lost your temper — never of the best,
I must say. Well, my love, by-bve for the i)rusent. Don't
(juite wear out the carpet before 1 return."

AVith the last sneer and a bweeping br-w, the lady quitted
(he library. As she closed the door, the houac-bell rang vio-
lently.

" The devoted baronet, no doubt," she said to hor.self, with
an unpleasant smile; "coma to condole with his brother in
afHiction. Poor old neodle! Truly, a fool of f;n-ty will never
bo wise! A fool of seventy, in his case,"

One of the tall footmen opened the donr. T?ut it was not
the stalely baronet. The fontman recoiled with a little yelp
of terror — ho had admitted this visitor b.>fore. A gaunt and
haggard woman, clad in rags, soaking with rain — a wretched
object as ever the sun shone on.

" Is Carl Walraven within?" demanded this gri.-iv appa-
rition, striding in and confrontinsr the tottering footmau with
blazing black eyes. " Tell liim Miriam is here."

The footman recoiled further with another feeble yelp, and
Blanche Walravi ii haughtily and angrilv faced the intruder.

" Who are you?"

The blazing eyes burning in h( How sockets turned upon the
glittering, perfumed vision.

" Who am I? What would 3'ou give to know? Who are
you? Carl Walraven's wife, 1 sup{)(x-ie. His wife! Ha!
ha!" she laughed — a weird, blood-curdling laugh. " 1 wish

TJIK UMSi'KN li:.:i>K(Ji;OO.M.

you joy of your luisL'nul, most mugnitioent mudaniol ToJl
um. fi'llow," tuniin^f willi riii.ldt'n fi' K.'ciiea.s uiion thodismiiyod
uudiTsLaippLT, *■■ is your nKi*ltfr at Ji'imo?"

'* Y-e-e-sI Tliiit is, J think bo, nui'am. "

" do »nd (ell him t'l ( uuie ]kvv, Ihcu. (Jo, or fll — "

'Vh" drciidl'id object uiiido oiin sirido toward the luf!y uervi-
ttir, who turned iirul l!od toiViird iho libniry.

Ijiit Mr. \\'ahiiven h;vl hi urd hjud and anp^ry voicos, and at
this moment tlio door o[)L'ncd and ho a})iit'ared on the tli.ciii)-
jld.

*' What id thiii?"' lie (h'liumdcd, angrily, *• What (he deuoo
do you mean, U ilnon, by wrui.iriini;!; In the hiJl? ISut gone
yet, Hianelie? (lood ir^'avcn! j\Jiri;iMi!"

" Yerf, MiriamI" Shu t^trodo rKircoly forward. ''Yes,
Miriam! Come to deuumd revon;.;."'. Where is .McIIie |).ine?
You promised to ])roteet her, and I'ee how you keei) ytuir
word!"

" In the demon's name, liushl" (jricd Car] Widraveii, sav-
agely. " What you have to say to uie, say to me — j'ot to iln)
wliole house. Come in hero, you lia:;" of .Satan, and blow out
as mueh aa you plea^el (Jood Lord! Wasn't I in trouble
enough b(;fi;re, without you eoniinj^' to drive me mad!-"'

lie caught her by one Uoshless arm in a Kort of frenzy of
desperation, and swung her int') t!ie library. 'I'h?n lie turiu'd
to his audience of two with IliHliing oyen:

" W'il.son, bo gone! or I'll break every bone in your body!
Mrs. Walraven, be good enough to take yourself otT at once.
1 don't want eavesdroppens."

And having thud paid his ek'gant lady-wife back in her own
coin, Mr. Walraven stalked into the library like a sulky lion,
bunged the door and locked it.

Mrs. Carl etood a moment in petrilied siknco in the liaii,
then sailed in ma^stie displeasure out of the house, into the
Wiilting carriage, and v/as whirled awav to the Academy.

*' Turn and turn about. Mr. Carl Walraven." she said, be-
tween set, white teeth. " ]\Iy turn next ! I'll ferret out your
guilty secrets before long, as sure as my name is Ijhinche!"

Mr. W'alraven faced Miriam in the librarv with folded urme
and tiery eyes, goaded to recklessness, a panther at bay.

" Well, vou she-devil, what do you want?"

"Mary Dane."

" Find her, then!" said Carl Walraven, fiercely. " 1 know
nothing about her."

The woman looked at him long and keenly. The cliange
iii him evidently puzzled her.

Tin: I'NSrEN T.RTDF.fillOOH.

You

■m^; ti new

-onji lutc'lv," ^h^f ■■•aiil. wiili (li:lil»('!ution.

Do you WitiiL UK! to think you iin; out oi' isiy ])()V.cr?''

" 'I'liink what you j)|i.'ii:-:o, an'l hii lia'iLicd io youl" liowlod
Mr. Wiilraveu. '' I um di'ivcti to tiie vcrj^'o of niiiilu'JHS among
youl Moilio J-);itn; ami hcv <.li-:ijt|t!'!ii'.uii;ts niv wife and her
cursfcd tiiunta, you ami your infernal tiiicat.sl !)•> your wortt,
tho whole of you! I defy the wiiole loti"

".'^(ifily, softly," Huid MiiiaJii. ooolino; dnvrn i'h he hci»ted
np. " 1 want iui c'.\i)IiujuUon. "Vou h;ivo lost I»T)llioI llov/
v/firt she io-4?"

■' YcA — how? You've asked tho (lueslion, and 1 wii-li you
would auswor il. I'vo heen d living,' niy.self wdd ov<;r it for
the past few days, but I don'c Kuem to ^u't to the solution.
Can't your l-'aiuiliar." pointing downward, " iielp you guess
the erngnia, Miriam?"

^liriaiu frowned darkly.

" J)o you loaliy intend to nay you have not made away with
the gill yourself?"

" Kow what does the woman mean by that? Wliat the
deuco. should I make aw.iv with her for? 1 liked iMullie —
u])on my soul 1 diil, Miiianil I liked her better ihan any one
in tliis house — the little, gaucy, miseiiievouH witchi She was
on the eve of iniirryin^ a baronet, and going to her castle in
!S])ain — I mean in Waiej — ^vhen, lol she vanishes like a gimst
in a child's tale. I've scoured the city uftor her — I've paid
detei;tives fabulou.-! amounts. I'vebcn worried, and harassed,
and goaded, anil mystiiied until I'm half iiuid, and here you
come with your infernal ni)nsense about ' making away ' with
her. That means mu-dering lier, I suj>no«e. I always took
you to be moiJ oi- le>s nnvd, Mi.iam Dane, but 1 never before
took you to be a foul."

The woman looked at him keenly — he was evidently telling
the truth. Yet still bhe doubted.

" Who but you, Carl Wulravcn, had any interest in her,
one way or tho other? What enemies could a girl of sixteen
hnve?"

"Ah! what, indeed? If a girl of sixteen will flirt with
every eligible nuin -he meets until she renders him idiotic,
she must expect to [lay tlie penalty. V>v.i, f don't pretend to
understand this allair; it is wrapjied in bluokcr mystery than
the Man in the Iron Mask. All I've got to say is — I had no
hand in it; so no more of your black loi ks. Mistress Miriam."

"And all I've got to say, Mr. Walruven," said Miriam,
steadfastly lixing her eyes upon him, " is that if Mollie Dane
is not found beioro the month a out, J w

your story

TH!

VNSKKN IMIIDKiiliOOM.

to the world. Wlitit will Madame Walraveii, what will Mrs.
Carl, what will the <;liief niotropolitaii circle's say tliuii?"

" You hag of Hadics! Aiu't you alraid 1 will strangle yoii
where you stand?"

" Not the least,/' folding her shawl deliberately around
her, and moving; towaid the door: " not m the >sii^^hl.est de-
gree. Coud-ni; 'it, Carl Walravou — I have said it^ imd I
alwavs keep my word."

"keep it, ."'id—"

But Miriar.i did not hear that last forcible adjuration, f^'he
was out of ^lie library, and out of the houtie, ere it v.aij well
littered — lost in the wet, black ni.cht.

Left alone, Carl Walravcn reMinied his niar( h up and slown
the apartment, with a gloomier J'acL' and more 'luwjiing brovvi-
than ever.

It was bad enough before, without this t'ger-cat of a Miriam
coming to make things tvn times worse. It was all braviidc,
his detiance of her, and ho kuiMV it. lie was com])kL(.ly in
her power, to ruin for life if she chose to speak.

" And bhe will choose!" growled Caid \\ ab-avrn, in a r.ngi%
" the accursed old hagi if Moliie Dane dot :sn't turn up before
the month ends. By the Lord llarryl I'll twist (hat wizen
gullet of hers the next time she shows licr nglv hhnk face
here! Confound Mollie Dane and all belnnging lo her! I've
never known a day's rest since I met tbem iir><t/'

There was a tap at tl;e door. The tall frotman threw ifc
open and ushered in Sir lioger Trajenna. 'i'he ttati iy old
baronet looked ten years older in these few days. Anxiety
told upon him more hardly than his 8evi'nty y(ara.

" Good-evening, Sir IJogerl" cricii Mr. Walravon, advanc-
ing eagerly. " Any news of Mollie?"

He expected to hear " Ko," but the baro?K't said " Ye;j. "
He was deeply acitatwl, and helil forth, in a hand that irh.ook,
ft note to Carl Walraven.

*' I received that an hour ago, through tho post-oilice. I'ni
Heaven's sake, nad, and tell me what you think of it,I"

He dropped exhausted into a chair. Carl Wuliavou tore
open the biief cpiaLle, and devoured its coaieuts:

" 8iJi RonEH TRA.ri'XN'A, — Give u]i your search for Mollic
Lane, it 's useless; a waste of time and money. 8he is taio
and well, ?tid will be at home in a week, but she will never bo
your wiie.

"* One Wuo Knows."

THE UNSEEN liRIDKGROOW.

Mr. Walravon road and rorcad these brief liiie.s and stood
and stared at Sir I'oger Trajenna.

" (I'ood heavens! You ^'ot thia throii(:;h the post-oflico?"

" I did, an hour a^^O;, and came here at once. Do vou be-
lieve it?"

" How can I tell? Let na hope it may be true. Tt is of a
piece with the rest of the niysUrv. 'I'Iik writing, as usual in
these anonvmoua letters, is di^^juiscd. Can Moiiie herself he
the writer?"

" i\iollieI" TIio baronet grew ft-ai-fully ])ale a'o the bare
suggestion. " Why on earth should my aHiancid wif.; write
like thai ? Don't you Bee it says there, ' tShe will never be
your wil'i!?' Jtollie, my bride, wiMiId never say that."

Mr. Walravei) was not so sure, but he did not say so. He
had very little faith in Wns Dane's stability:, even in a matter
of this kin !.

" It is the work of some enemy,'' saiil Sir Roger, " and, as
such, to be di.;rep;ardtd. Like all anonymous letters, it ia
oniv Worthy of cojitcmpt, "

roople always say that of anonymous C'-'mmuninations; bu.v
the anoiiyuKHis communications invariably have their elToct,
notwithslandinf,'.

"■ 1 wlil (jontinuo my search," pwrsiied Sir Itoger, lirml_y.
" I will offer yet liifdier rewards, 1 u-ill employ still more
detectives. I will place this letter in tlu'ir hands. IVo stono
siiall b i left unturned — iio money t-hall be spared. If I lose
Moiiie, lil'u is not worth the having."

lie roh-e to go. Mr. W'a! raven fulili'd up the mysterious
epi>ith! and handed it hack.

" I see it is [)o;Umai ked in the city. If the writer really
knows aught oE MolJi", she li-ust be nearer at hand than wo
imaL'ine. W'oidtl to Heaven thi. v^c'^k were nj). "

" Then you have faith in this?" >:aid the baronet, looking
e.stonished.

" I have hope, my dear sir. It Ik very ca:\y believing in
what we wish to come true. There may be somoLhing iu it.
Who knows?"

The baronet shook his head.

'* I wish I couhl thitik so. 1 sometimes fear we will never
see her again. Pooi- vUWM Poor little .Moiiie! Heavon only
knows what yon ruav not Icivo sutforcd ere this!"

" Let lis not di>!}'air. Prav, resume y()ur seat. 1 am quite
alone this stormy night, Sir Kogor. Mrs. Walrnven has gone
to the opiTH. "

But the baronet moved I'csolutclv to the door.

THE UNSEEX RRIDFCtROOM.

" Thank-^. rTr. Wal.'ii^'on: but I ii;n !'/, eomnr'Tiv f.ir no one.
I luiVG been utterly iniserablo Kince thct l'it»il iiigiit. 1 can
lind rcct no".vh-rr>. I will not inllict. ni\ \\\;*n.sunie Bociety
upon you, uiv f.i^'iid. (iootl-niglitl"

Tlie wc'j'ic {) !■;•:. (1. As Sir l^)2;pr snid, the inouIriLS and re-
wards wcro d ,!ib!td — trebltd; l)iit all in vain. JNo (race — not
the faintest s-hadow of tnwc — of the lost; ouo couki be fi^uud.
The mystery di opened and darkened every d;!y.

Tlie week e.\j)ir('d. On its last night; there met at tl)e Wal-
ravcn maiifion a few fn^-ndn, to debate what ^tepi had better
next bj taken.

" In the council of many (b.ero is witrdom," tlionglit Mr.
Carl Walri'.ven: ao that t;hc;o were present, l<C3i Ics Sir IJoger
Trajenna, Dr. Oleander, Mr. Sardaiiyx, Hugh Ingeluw, and
one or two more wiseacres, all anxious about tlio mi^^ssing
bride.

The bevy of gentlenion Vi-ere af?somldi. il in the drawing-room,
conversing witb solemn, Eeriuii-i iuvc.^, and many dubious
shakes of the lit-ad.

Sir IJoger eat the jMeturc of pale despair. Mr. Walraven
looked hara-sed lialf to death. Tlio otiiei gentlemen were
preteDiaturally grave.

" It ii of no use," Sir Ilogor was saying. " Those who ab-
ducted her have laid their plans too well. 8ho will never be
found."

"Are you sure she was abducted?" asked J)r. Oleander,
doubtfully. " U it not jiuit possible, my dear Sir ]ioger, she
may have gone od' of herself?"

Everybody stared at this audacious suggestion.

" 'J'h<'re is no such iiossd/dity, Doctor 01eand(>r,'' said Sii
IJogcr, hanglitiiy. " The bare insinuation is uti in-idl. >dis3
Dane \\\ii u\\ j)lightou wife of her o^'ii free will.'"

" ^ our i'ardon, 8ir Koger. ^'ct, j.loaio remember, ^diws
Dane u'as a highly eccentric vourig lady, and the rules that
hold good in other caies fail here. She was iiccuL^tonud to do
mosL extraoidinary thing?, for the me- sako of beitig odd iind
uncommon, us 1 take if. IFcr guaruiiui vrill bear me oat;
therefore 1 still cling to tho i)t)S.-,iliiiity. "

*' Besides, young ladies possessing sound hnigs will hardl/
permit ihemselves to be carried oil wilii')iit raisir.g an outcrv,"
said Ml'. .Sardonyy; "and in this cu.-e there was none, 'i'he
faintest cry would iiavo been hi'urd."

" iSfeither were ili.ru any traces of !i : ijiigido," put in lSb\
Ingclow, "and the chamber window w;!< found unfastened, as
if tho bride h"d loo^;'^-d it herself iind steppeil out."

THE (NfcKl'N BltlDEOKOOil.

•Sir Iiogor lookod atigiily urounu, witli u ghiay* Lli.iL soumecl
lo jihIc if ilicy W(^ri; all in a cons[iirafy ajruiiu-L him; hul, beforo
h(! (^(liild .s[tL'a!-;, tho (U)(.>i'-beil vaii^ loiidiy.

Mr. Wulravcii reniciubcMvd tiie imonyiuoua note, and stui tod
violently. An inst;infc later, they licurd a ser-;ant op.'n the
door, and then
hoiHe.

'rJRro was one sininltanoous rui^li oiit ol" flio flrawinrr-room,
and d'AVii-stairs, Tliere, in iho ball, dtoud \\ ils /n, ibo I'ooL-
lUcin, i^laring and gai^ping a-; if liu bad L^ccn a ghost; and there,
in the (b)or-\vay, u fiilvory, sbinin^^ viriion, in the snowy bridui
robes siio had worn last, atood Jlollie Dane I

1 wiki, ringing shriek eehocd llirough the

CIIAPTKR X.

TIIK I'AH.'^ON'y LIlTl.)-: STORY.

TiTEin-: was a dead paust^; blank amazement sat on every
I'aoi'; no one .stirred for an inrflant. Tlien, with a great cry
of joy. tho WeL^h baronet sprung forward and caught his lost
bride in bi.'i arms.

" My MolliL—my MoUiel ■\[y darling!"

But bis darling, instead <■( returning his rapturous em-
brace, disengaged lierself wiili a aiiddeu jerk,

" Pray, Sir Uoiiei, tut'd't make a soenel Ciuardy, how d'yo
do: Is it after liinner? I'm ilr' adfuliv tired and b.inigry""

"Mollie: (iued heavens, Molliel "■ " " ' '

gas[)ed Mr. W alraven, starinu" au'liast

!5>

" Now — now
your asking:

IS this really J'ou.-' '
•'" cried i\Iios i>ane, testilv; " wliat's the good

of your asking ridiculoin (picstions, (iuardy AValra\en?
Whore's y ur eyes-ight? Don't you see it's me? 'Will you
kindly lot mo pa^>', gentlemen? or am I to stand heiO all
night on e.\liil)itinn?"

Evidently the stra.y buub had relurncd to tho fold in shock-
ing bad tem[)er. The gentlemen ijarring ber jias^^age iitslant-
ly j)nido way, and Mollie turned to aseen\l tho staircase.

"I'm going to my roo.ii, gnardy,'" she condescended to
i^ay, with her fo^Jt on tlio lirst carpeted step, " und y.)U will
})leaso send Luey up with tea and toast immediately. I'm a
great deal too tired to oli'er any e\[ilanation to-night. I feed
UB it I had lieen riding al)i>ut in a h:iv'kney-(!ariiage for i\ ceid,-
ury or two, like I'etcr Ituug. tho mi.-ising man — if you ever
heard of Peter;" with which Mi:-'s l)ane toiled slowly and
wearily up tlie graixi staircase, and tho group of gentlemen
were left in tho hull below blankly gazing in unu another's
faces.

THE UNSEEN BRIDEGROOM.

" Kuiiueutly characteristic," obtservctl. Mr. lugelow, the
lir.^t to break the silence, with u soft laugh.

" Upon my wonl," sai.l Or. Oleandei-, with hirf deaih's-hoad
emile, " Mi^s MolJie'ri rtturn is far more rt'inarkabJo) than her
departurel That yount,' huly's s'n/t/-j'r(,i({ r(;quirc\s to bo Hoen
to be beiibveil in."

" Where can she have been?'* asiied Lawyer Hardonyx,
helpK-ssly takinjr suuil.

Tlie two ui.-n uioat interested in the younj:^ lady's return
said nothing; they were far beyond that. They could only
look at tai-h other in mute astonishment. At last —

*' 'J'he anonymous letter did speak the truth," observed
Mr. Walravtn.

" What anonymous letter?" asked Lawyer Sardonyx,
sharply.

" Sir Roger received an anonymous letter a week a<:;o, in-
forming him Mollie would be baek a week after its date. Wo
reither <jf us j^aid any atbeution to it, and yet, I»! it has como
true."

" Have you that iett.or about you, Sir Koger?" infjuired the
lawyer. '' I should like to see it, if you have no oujeetion.'*

Mechanieally Sir Kogur put his haiid in his pocket, and
produi-ed the (J<K:LimLiit. I'he lawyer ghmce.l kcL-niy over it.

"'One Who Kuows.^ Ahl 'One \\ ho Knows' is a
woman, I am certain. 'I'hat's a woman's hand, I am posi-
tivi\ Look here, Oleander!"

** My opirdou exactiyi CouMn't possibly be ]\liss Dane's
own writing, could it?" once more with Ids .ipectral smile.

*' Sir!" cried the baronf-t, reddeinug angrily.

" I beg your pardon. Hat look at tiie case dispassionately,
Sir Rwger. My previous' iuiprtssion that Miss Dane was iiot
forcibly ubduciei is conlirmed by the strange manner of her
return."

" Jliue also," chimed in Laivyer Sardonyx.

*' Suppose we ail jifslpone foiining an ojtinion on the sub-
ject," i-aid the la/y vitice of tho young artist, '" until to-
morrow, and allow Mi>^ Dane, when kIic has recovered from
her present fati'^ue and hungtr, to explain for hers-elf. "

"Thanks, Ingeloiv " — Mr. Wair.iven tnrne(l a gratcfid
glance upon the lounging artist — " and, mtiuitime, geiitlo-
men, let us adjourn to tho drawing-room. Standing talking
here I don't a.imire. "

Ho lei the Wiiv: tho others followed — Sir IJoger last of all,
lost ;n a rha;;e of bewilderment that >. tt-trly spoiled his joy ut
hie bride's return.

THE UISSKLX riUIDEOUGOy..

" What caa it nifai)? "What can it mean?" ha kept per-
petually ii^kin<T liiniHolf. " What is all this inystery? Surely
— surely it nan not bo as thc^e men sayl Mollie cau not huvo
goiio oil of herself!"

It win rather dull the remainder of tlic eveninj.';. Tho
gTiests took their departure earlv. »Sir Roger lingered beliind
the rest, and when alone with hini the master of the house
?uiianone!l t^ucy. That hatidmaiden appeared, her e3e3 danc-
ing with deli^dit in her head.

*' Where is your mif^tress, Lucy?" Mr. Walraven asked.

" (ione ro bed, sir," said Luev, ])romptly.

" You hi'ouglit her up 8uppe. ?"

"Yes, sir. "^

" What did she say to you?"

" xs.»thing much, sir, only that she was famished, and jolted
to death in that old carriage; and then she turned me out,
sayimr ste felt a.-^ though she could sleep a week.'"

*' Notldtig more?"

"Xotiiing more, sir."

Lucy was dismissed.

Mr. Walraven turned to the baronet sympathizingly.

*' 1 feel as deeply mystilied and distressed about this matter
as even you Ciin do, my dear tSir Koger; but you perceive there
is nothing for it but to wait. Oleander was right, this evening
v.-heii he said the rules tiiat measure other women fail with
Molli.'. She is an original, and we must be content to bide
her time. Come early to-morrow — come to brcaLi'ai-t — and
doubtless all will be exjjhiiiu'd to our satisfaction."

And so i\[r. Walraven thought, and lie fancied lie under-
stood Mollie pretty well; but even Mr. Wahaven did not know
the depth of aggravation his flighty ward was capable of.

Sir Hogerdid come early on the morrow — ridictdously early,
Mrs. Carl said, sharplv; but then Mrs, Civ] was cxa>[)erafed
beyond everything at Mollie presuming to return at all. She
w.is sure she had got rid of her so ni(!cly — so sun- Mistress
.'•h/llie had cruue to grit 1' in some way for her sins — that it waa
a little too IhuI to have her come walking coolly ba(:k and tak-
ing poss'cssiop. a!:;ain, as if nothing had happened.

JJreakfast h()ur arrived, but Miss Dune did not arrive wit.h
it. They waited ten minutes, wheti Mrs. Carl lost patience
jnd iH'otested angrilv she woidd not wait an instant longer.

'* Iv'ci'utricity is a little too miM a word to apj)ly to your
ward's actions, Mr. Walraven," fho said, tmniiig angrily
njv-n her husL'ttiid. "• j\I<'Uie i)ane '}■:■ ciiln r ;i very mad girt
or a very wicked o/io. Lu eith.er casr, she is a lit subject for a

THE UNSEEN ISKIDEGROOM.

lunfitic asylum, and the sooner iJic is incised in a strait-jacket
and her antics eudtd, tlie belter.'^

" Jladamel" thiiiidered Mr. 'Walravrn, fmi, u;^iy, ^vhile llio
baroni t reddcued with rage to Ih.' roots of his eilvery hair.

"Oil, I^m not afaiid of you, Mr. Widiiuen," snid Mrs.
Widraven, cooUy, "nor, afraid to speak my /n'nd. eitlicr.
Kone but a lnnati>.' would act as bhe has acted, ri.nnir,^ away
on her wiMlding-night and coming b;ii !< a fortnight after.
The idea of her being forciMy abducted is all stidT and ni<n-
senso. He;uen only knows where the patt two weik.s have
been spent!"

''Mrs. U'alruvon," said ilie "Wdsh baronet, with uv-fid,
suppressed passion, " vou forget vou F])eak of mv future
wife.''

" I forget nothing, Sir linger Trajonna. When I\Iiss Dane
gives a satisfactory explanation of her conduct it will be (juito
time enough to take her ]ni(t. Mr. Walraven are you going
to eat your brei.kiast, or am I to take it alone?"

Mr. Walraven seized the bell-rope and nearly tore it down.

A maid-ser\ ant ap]ieared.

"Co up to Iiliss Dane's room and tell her we are wailing
breakfudt." roared Mr. Walraven in a Ktentorian voice.

The girl obeyed in diic alarm. In an instant :]i" was Ija k.

" i\Iiss I)ane''8 not up yet, and says she doesn't exjiect to be
for some time, bhe says you'd better not wait for lier, as you
will very likely be painfidly hungry if you do."

" ] thought so," nmarked Mrs.' Carl, shnrily.

Mr. Walraven hit his lip, the barenot looked like a thunder-
cloud, but; both took tilt ii- I'lnces. To all but the mistress of
the mansion the breakfast business was a dead l:'.ilure. Mrs.
Carl ejiL with a very good appetite, liuihhed her nual, arose,
rang the bell, and f rdered the earriage to be ri itd v in an hour.

The gentlrmcn adjourned to the library to smoke and Wiiit.
The hour idap.-:ed. Mrs. Waliaven de}iurled in .state, and dead
calm full ujion the house. Another hfuir — the waiting twain
were growing fidgety and nervous, crackling their newspa])ers
and pulling at their cigars.

" 1 vow that mad girl is making mc as hyslerieal us a
cranky old maid I" growled Mr. Wiilraven. "if she doitsn't
appear in half ati hour, I'll go up to her room, and carry her
down willy-nillyl"

" Would you really be. .s.-) eruel, guardy?" t'uid a soft voici^
and wheeling rountl, the astonislied pair saw the cidprit before
them. "Have you no pity for your jmor little Mollic, and

THE UNSEEN BIlIDEGKOOAr.

can't you lot her be as lazy as she pleasca? Good-morning, iSir
Iloger Trajenna. "

J low lovi'ly ^rollie looked I '^I'ho golden curls fell in a shin-
ing sliower over the dainty white cadiniere I'ohe, belccd wiih
hluo velvet, Hoft white lace and a diamond pin sparkling at
tho roumled throat. She came forward with a bright smilo
and outstreteheil hand to greet them.

"1 was cross la:st night, you know," xhe «i;d, "and
couldn't jiroperly speak to my friends, '^rravuling steadily,
for goydncs.i Icuows how many hours, in a bumping coach*
would wear out the patiunco of a saint — and yon know I'm
not a sainti"

" Iso," said i\Ir. Walraven; " very far from it. Kearer the
other thing, 1 sirs});'ct. "

" Now, giiardy," said JMolIie, reproachfully, *' hnv,- canycu?
And after I've been lost, and you've been all distr;ieted about
me, tool Oh, how f siiould like to have seen the fuss and tho
uproar, imd the dismay and distraction gcnerallyl l>o tell mo

what you all thought."

" I'll tell you Jiothing of tho sort,'^ said her guardian,
sternly. " Have you no feeling in that llinty heart of yotu-s,
MoUie Hane?"

" Well, now, guardy, it you'll believe me, I'm not so sure
I've got a heart at all. 'I'here's something that beats hi
here "' — l;i[)ping lightly on lier white bodice — *' i-ut for going
frantic with love or hate, or ji'alousy or sorrow, or any of those
hysterical things that other pciplc'.s hearts y-im made for, I
don't believe I have. I tell you this frankly " — glancing side-
wavs at .Sir liog(!r Trajenna — " in order to Wiirn you and
cverybi (ly not to be too fond of me. I'm not worth it, yon
see, and if you take mo for more than my value, and get dis-
apitointed afterward, the faidt's not mine, l»ut yours."

Mr. Walraven looked at lier in surprise.

" IJafher a lengthy speech, isn't it, Jlollie? Suppo-:e you
leave olt lecturing, ami tell us where you've been for tho last
two weeks."

" Where do yon suppose I've been?"

" We can't Mippose on such a (|aestiou; it is impossible. 1
desire vou to tell us."

" And if 1 don't, guardy?"

She looked up at him rather dclianlly — seated on a low
stool, her (^Klsh chin in her eiiisli hand, her Jiretty litl le r(>se*
bloom face ])eeping brightly out from ike acentcd vellow curls^

*' Mollie!"

THE UNSKEN BRIDKCROOf.

" Giiardy, see liere: it's of no uso gcttinpj crops. T can't
tell you whcro I've been, bectiuso 1 don't know nivself. "

"Muliic!"

" It's true as preaching, guardy. Yon know I don't toll
fibs — excej)t ill fiiti. I don't know whcro I was, and so I rau't
tell you, and I'd a good deal rather you wouldn't ask me."

"Molliol"

" Oh, what's tlie U3e of Mollioing?" cried the young lady,
waxing impatient. " 1 was taken somewhere, and 1 don't
know where — 'pon my word and honor, I don't — and I was
k(!pt a })ris»ner in a na=ty room, by pei)[)le 1 don't know, to
puuk<h mo for ilirling, 1 was told; and when 1 was there two
weeks, a?id punished sutliciently, Heaven knows, 1 was fetchefl
liome. Guardy, there's everything I know or can tell you
about tlie matter. Nov*', jilease bo good, and don't bolher
with tiresome questions."

Mr. Walraven stood and looked at l-.er, a jietrified gazer.
Siu;h u?dieard-of impudence! Sir lioger Trajejina took up the
catechism.

'* Your pardon, Mollie, but I must aslc you a few more
fjupstions. There was a young jjerson brought y!)u a letter on
the night we. were — " His voice failed. " May 1 ask who
was that young person, and what were the contents of that
letter?"

Mollie looked up, frowning impatiently. ]>ut the baronet
was so pale, and troubled asking his questions that she had not
the heart to refuse.

" That young person. Sir Koger, called herself Sarah Grant.
The letter piu-ported to come from a woman who knew me
before 1 knew myself. It told me tdu; was dying, and liad
important revelations to make to mc— implored im- to liar^.tcn
at once if I woidd see her alive. J believed tlie letter, and
went with Sarah. T'liat letter, Sir lioger, was a forgery and
M trap."

" Into which you fell?"

'* Into which I fell headlong. '^Fhe greatest ninny alive
cnnld not have been snared mote easily."

" Yoi> have no iiiea who j)erpet!ated this atrocity?"'

" No," said Mollie, " no idea. I wish I had! If I wouldn't
make him sup sorrow in spoonfuls, my name's not Midlie!
There, Sir Roger, that will do. You've hoard all I've got to
tell, and the bettor way will be to aslc no more qnrsrinns. If
you think I am not sufficiently explicit — if you think \ keep
anything hivck that you have a right to knuw — why, there iti
only one course left. You can take it, and welcome. I re-

THE UNSEKN BHTDEGROOM. 77

lease yoii from iill tics to mo. 1 nhall think you {»tiirec;t!y jus-
lili'il, iuii] wo will cdJttiniie tlie bont |)03si!ili! frietids." tSlic
riuid it ill lalv, with uu cyo tijiit ilushoil jukI a clieeic llint
bnrni'l. " There id only one Ihi'i':; ciin iniike uti (juarnl, Si^
|{not^: ..-ihi-.t is, uskiTicf niP '[iiostion.s 1 don't chooso f,o unsvver.
An<l J don't (iiiooso to answer in tiie present caso. "

" JUit I in:si.st upon your answcniiE^, Mollio Dane!"' burst
nut Carl "Wai raven. " I don't cIiooa! to bo mystilit'd a'ld
humbn^ijgivl in this cgn'^ioius manner. 1 insiot upon a coni-
])lote fXplauiiLion."

" J)o von, indocd, Jlr. Walravcn? And how are you going
to get it?"

" h'rnin you, Mollio Dane."

" Not if 1 know my.->'lf — and I ruther fancy 1 dol Oji, no,
Mr. Walraven — no, you don't! 1 slia'n't say unotiier word to
you, or to any othm* living being, until 1 choose; a?id it's no
ui-ii bullying, for yon can't malvo lae, you know. I've given
(Sir Roger his alternative!, and I can give ^on yours. If you
don't fancy my remaining hero under a clond, why, T can go
as I came, free as tho wind that bbws. You've only to say
the word, (juardy Ualraven!"

The blue eyes Ihishcd as Oarl "Walraven had never seen
tliem Hash before; the ])ink-tirii:ed cheeks flamed rose-red;
but her voice never rose, and .sh-j kipt her quaint seat on tin
stool.

"Cricket! Cricket! Cricket!" was "guardy's" reproach,
fnl cry.

" "^'ou dear old thing! You wouldn't like to lose your
Imtitful little torn-boy, would yon? Wtll, you slia'n't, either.
1 only meant to siaru you that time. You'll uik me no more
nasty questions, ajid I'll stay and be your Crick' i Il)e same as
ever, and we'll try and forget the little epi'-'ode of ilie past two
weeks. Anil as for you, h»ir lioger, don't you do anything
rasii. -lust think things over, and mitko sure you're perfectly
satislied, b^'foro you havo anything to do with ni.\ f(;r 1 don't
intend to explain any more Uian 1 have e.\[)hunL'd. I'm a
goed-for-notliing, giddy lit lie moth, I know; but I doi;'t,
really want to deceivn anybody. No; don't rpoak on impuls(;,
dear Sir IJoger. Tako a week or two, and think ubout it."

She kissed her hand (!oquettishly to the two gentlemen, and
tripped out of the ro"m.

And there Ihcy sat, looking at each oth'T, aUogothcr be-
wildered and dazed, and altogether more infatuated ab;'Ut her
than ev(!r.

Society was eleetrilied at finding ?-!'s:3 Dane back, and hxked

THF. 1X3F.KN BRTPrfUtOOM.

j^aRorly for tlio r.equtj io |]ii,-i liitio romunoe. 'I'hey got it
A'lOni ^Tr. Waliiucti.

Mr. v. iiiriiven, iiliuul ua oil, told Hicm lii-^ wurii li.id rocoivod
071 h(;r brid;ij ?ii.i;iit !i ;-niiniiiony to tho bcd.-id-j ol' u liyiiij,' and
vory near reliitivo. i\[isd J)ano, ever impiilHive imd eoceiitric,
li;id srnne. SIio hud renminod witii tho (lying rolntivo for a
fortiii>:;lit, iiiid mertdy for luisi liief — no iiocd to Itll thoni how
mirfciiii.:vr/iis iii:5 ward was — liatl kept thn tvhn!i> nuittor a secret.
It was vory provoki'ig, certainly, but wa.s ,iii-<t like provoking
Moliio l);i!iO.

Mr. AValravon related tliis little fahlu ..liiing sweetly, and
with excfllont gncc. ]Uit society took tiie i-lvcy for wiiat, it
was worth, and shook it.s huiul portentoiihly over ^Alijjs Dane
and her mysteries.

!sobody ki\ew wlio pho was, vvliere slie oanie from, or what
relation tlio bore to Mr. Wal raven, and nobody believed Mr.
Wal raven and his little romance.

liut as Mesdames AValraven, mother and wife, countenanced
the oxtraordina'-y cri'ature with tlr^ lliyhty way and amber
curls, and as she was the ward of a millionaire, why, society
smiled graciously, and welcomed MuUie back with charminj^
sweetness.

A fortni.irht pas^•ed — tho fortnight of probation she had
given Sir linger. Thero wa-j a grand (li)iner-i';n t,y at S!)ino
comHicrcial nabob's ii]» the avenue, and all tli;! Wal raven
family were there. There, too, was the Widsli baronet,
stately and grand-seigneur-like as ever; there wei'c I'r. Olean-
der, Lawyer Sardonyx, Hugh Ingelow, and tho little u'iti'h
who had thrown her wicked sorceries over them, brighter,
more sparkling, more lovely than ever.

And at tli(: dinner-[)a;'ty Mnllie was destined to rceive a
shock; for, just before ihcy ])aired olf to the dining-room,
there entered a late guest, announced as the " IJeverend Mr.
Kashleij^di," and, looking in the lioverend ivlr. Jia hleigh's
face, MoUie Dane recognized him at once.

She was staii<ling at the instant, as it chanced, beside Hugh
Ingelow, gayly hel[)ing him to satirize a magnilicenL "dia-
mond wedding " th(!y hud lately attended; but at the sight of
the ])ortlv, comu'onpiace genlleman, the words seeuied tu
freeze on her li])S.

With her eyes fixed on his face, her own slowly whitening
until it Wf'.s blanched, M')llie stooil and gazed and gazed.
Hugh Ingelow looked cuiiouyly fn)m one to the other.

" In Heaven's name, Jliss Mollie, do you see the Marble
Guest, or some invisible familiar, peei)ing over that fat geu

TTiK rNPFTiN r.RinriinooM.

tlonian'rf slioiiMci? Wlint do you sne? You Io"l< us tlj/uyh
y^m wcro ^niitit; to I'liinl."

" Do you !.ii".v tlijic [rcntlemiiu?" sho iiiivnarjcd to upk.

"J) 'I l:n i'.v him— lJ"v.'ivii(l L'iivru .nd IfaKlilci-Ii:-' ]!"tl.or
thiin r know iiiy-^tlf, Alis.s Dano. W lifu J was a littlo ( !i;i|i in
rouudahouts Uicy u.hmI to take mv lo his ('Iiiirch evorv Smidav,
imd ki'op ruo in wri^;,dini,' lorninitH tliroiicdi a throii-liuurs*
.sermon. Yes, 1 know liini, to mv .sorrow."

" l[o 13 a cliTL^vmin, then?" AFoIIio naid, slowly.

~M\'. Ingi'low siand at. the odd question.

"■ I have, alwav.^ lahorrd midir that impression, Miss Dano,
and 80 (loos tho TiVvtM'cnd Mr. IJashloigh himself, I fancy. If
you ('hooso, I'll jirosont him, and then you can orosfi-(]Ut'stion
l)im at your leisure."

'' is'o, no!" cried JIdllio, detaining liim; '* not for 'ho
world! I <]• li't wish to make hi.s awjuaintance. See, tluy
are iilini,' oil'! I fiill to y-m' lot, I suppose. "

Sho took her rejected suitor's arm — .somrh ^w, she was
growing to like to he with Hugh Ingelow — ;uid they entered
th'* dining-rocm together. HuL iMoliio waa tlill v( ly, \ery
])aie, and v(>ry unusually cpiiet.

Ilcrfaoe and neck gleanied ai.'.''.inst her ])ink dinner-dross
lilio snow, and her eyes wand; red f lU'tively evei' a!id anon over
to (he licverend Mr. Ifashloiidi.

She listened to every word that he r])oke as though they
were the fal)ied pearls and diamonds uf the fairy tale that
dropjied from his lij)s.

" Positively, Miss Dane," Hugh Ingelow remarked in his
lazy voice, "it i.s love at lir.st sight with the iievcrend Ray-
mond. 'J'hink better of it, i)ray: he's fat and forty, and has
one V, ife already."

" Hush!" said ]\Iollie, imperiously.

And Mr. Ingelow, stroking his mustache meditatively,
hushed, and Ikstened to a story the Ifeverend ^Mr. L'a'^hleigli
was about to relate.

" So extraordinary n story," he said, glancing around him,
" that 1 can hardly reali/.r it. myself nr tu'eiiit my own senses.
It is the only adventure of my life, and I am free to confess I
ftish it may renuiin so.

" It is aboidi three wicks ago. I was sittiiig, one ttormy
•light — 'Tuesday night it was — in mv studv, in after-(lin?uu'
inood, enjoying the luxury of a gnod lire and a private clerifal
cigar, wh'ii a young woman — respectable-looking \i»iing jjcr-
soD — entered, and informed mo that u sickly reliitivc, Ironi

THE UNSP.F.N TlKIDKOnOOM.

whom 1 luivo expectations, was dying, and witjhod to see mo
iuinicdiiitely.

" Of course I stiirtcd up «t onco, donned li;it uiid jrrciit-
eoiit, and followed mv Mspoctidih; yniin;,' pt'r,-(;n into a cab
\vaitin<r iit tho door. Ifiudiy waM I in when J was ecizod by
some inviaiblo pyrsonat^i.', Ixmnd, blindfoMi'd, iind f;ii/jf!,'«'d, nnd
driven throu<:h the t-iuiry spliorcs, for all I know, for lioiuvs
anil hour.-j intiirminablo.

" Presently wo .st(i})]iod. 1 was !i d out — led into a house,
upstairi', my uncomfortable bandaj^cd removed, and tiio uiio of
my eyesight restored.

" T was in a lartre room, furnished very much like anybody's
parlor, and brilliantly lighted. My eoni[)!Hiion of the earriagu
was still at my elbow. 1 turneil to rcjrai-d him. My friends,
he was masked like a Venetian bravo, antl wore a romantic
inky cloak, liko a b'omiui toga, that swept the floor.

'* I sat agha.-it, tho cold pei.'-pinition oozing from every pore.
I make light of it now, but I ooull see nothing to laugh at
then. Was I g' ing to be robbeil ami murdered? Why luid I
been decoyed here?

" iMv friend of the mask did not leave me long in suspense.
Not death and its horrors wiis to be eiiiiclcd, but niarri;ige —
marriage, my fiiends — and I wus to perform the ceremony.

" I listened to him like a man in a dream. He him-elf was
the bridegroonx. The bride wus to a])[»ear marked, also, and
I was 0!dy to hiiir tlitiir Chri.-;tian nam.,'s — Krnest, — Mary, llo
offered no explanations, no ai)oli)gies; lie simply stated facts.
I was to marry them and ask iio (juestions, and 1 was to be
conveyed safely homo the same night. If I refused —

" My masked gentleman [liiured, and left an awful hiatus
for me to lill up. I did r^ot refu-e— by no miiins. It has
always been my way to make tho best of a bad bargain — of
two evils to choose the lesser. 1 consented.

" The bridegroom with tho bia* k mask quitted tho room,
and returned with a bride in a white mask. She was all in
white, as it is right and proper to be — flowing veil, orange
wreath, trailing silk robe — everything (pnte nice. But the
white mask spoiled all. bhe was undersized and very slender,
and there was one peculiarity about, her I noticed — an abun-
dance of bright, golden ringlets."

The. reverend gentlemjin p;iused an instant to take breath.

Mollie Dane, scarcely breaihing herself, listening absorbed,
here became conscious, by some sort of prescience, of th«
basilisk gaze her guardian's wife had fi.Ted upon her.

THK t'NSKEN BHIDKGUOOM.

Tho sLiiin^'cHt, smile .sat on licr arroirant fiicc as fcliu lookcil
eti'Uilfuj'lly at Arollii-'.s llowinj^ yellow ciirld.

*' 1 iiiarriid that iii\-:torioii.s pair," wi'tit on tho cler<.'yman
— " KrnisD and May. 'I'Iuto wero two vvitnoe'rfos — my re-
8|)t'(;tal)ln ycuni^ woman ami the 0(a('hman; thero was tin.* ring
— (;V('i vtliin;,' ncrcsnary ami [n'opiT. "

Molliu's lift hand wa.^ (ii tlu! tablo. A plain, thick band
of gold }:I(ani"(l on the Ih'-id lin^'i;r. l-'he iuisiily yiiatrlad it
away, but not bt-fori' Mis. Walravcn'a black vyva taw it.

"I wa!< brought Immo," concliidt'd the clergyman, "and
h'ft standing, an morning l)roko, rilose to my own door, and 1
havt! nevnr lu-ard or t^^H'n my mysU-rioiKS miuskH Hince. I'hcro's
an adventure for yon!"

'I'he ladir.s ;o,-'' from I he tabic As tlicy jiassod into the
drawing-room, .. i. and fill npon Afollie's s-hoiddt.'r. (ilancing
back, she saw tho face of Mr-i. Carl Walravuii, lighted witii a
malicion.s smile.

"Such a (jneer story, Moliie! And snch an odd bride —
undersized, very slender, golden ringlets — name, Maryl My
j)retty (Jrieket, I think I know where yon jiassed that inys-
fcerious fortnight!"

CIIAl^TKU XI.

A MIliNKillT TKTE-A-TF.TE.

iroF-LiF Daxk .sat alone in her ])retty room. A bright fire
bnrnod in tiie grale. Old Mmu. Walravcn liked ci'al-iires, and
wonld have th m throjighont tht,' honso. Jt was very lute —
])ust midnight — but the ga-; l)iirned fidl flare, its- garish ilame
sid),lned by globe.s of timed gia.s-', and Moliie, on a low stool
before the lire, was still in all the splendor of her pink silk
di?iner-dr(i-'S, her laces, htr pcnirl^i.

i\lullitj's eonsidering-iap wa.s on, and Mollio's dainty brows
wero contracted, and tho rosebnd month ominously pnckered.
Mi.ss Dane was doing wi)at she did not often do — thinking —
and the thonjj,hts cha.-ing one another thrungh her Highly
brain were pvidently the reverse of pleasant.

" iSo I'm reallv marrieil," mnsed the yoinig ladv — " really
and tridy nnirriid! — and I've been thinking all along it wurf
onlv a sham ceremony."

She lifted up her left hand and looked at the shining wed-
ding-ring.

" Ernest! Snch a ))ietty luime! And tiiat's all I know
about liim. Oh, who is he, among all the men i know — who?
It's not Doctor Oleander — I'm certain it's not, although the

'Jlii; L NbKl.N JilllDEUItOOM.

lieight and sIiujjo are the saruo; uihI 1 doii't think iL^^ Sar-
ilonyx, itnd I know it's not l[u*,di Ingoiow — ! ami-' me Ihij^li!
— bociiuso iiu liiisn't the pluck, and lio's a "rn ;it did tno Im-.y.
If it's tho liuvyer or the doctor, I'll have a divorce, ceitain.
If it were tlie artis^t — niorc's tlio ])ity it's not — J — Ufll, I
shouldn't ask for a divorcj. I do like Hik^IiI I like him
more and moio i*v»ry day, aJid 1 almost wish I hadn't ]ilayod
that slianii'ful trii k ui)on tdm. J i\-noiV he loves mi' dearly —
poor little, njadduadul lue! Ami 1 — ohi h)'.v could J think
to marry hir iiogor Trajenna, knowing in my licart J Ivwl
Iluuh? J)tar, dearl it's such a pity I can't be good, and lake
to love-making, and marriage, and shirt-1 uttons, like othci
girls! liut I can't; it's n(;t in me. 1 was born a rattle-pate,
and 1 don't see how any one can blame mo for letting ' nater
caper.* "

She rose up impatiently and began pacing tiierooni — always
lier first impulse in moments of jierplexity.

" I'm a mystery and a puzzle to myself and in everybody
else. I don't know who J am. nor wjiat my real nam;! may
be— if I have any right to a namel ] ilon't know what J am
to tin's ^\v. Walraven, and 1 don^t know who that mysterious
woman, Miiiam, is. i don't know anvthing. I have a hus-
1,'and, and I duu't know him — shouldn't rcicognize him if I
met him face to fai^e this instant. I'm like the mysterious
orphans in the story-books, and I expect it will turn out I
have a duke for a father, somewhere or other."

Miss Dane walked to the window, drew tlie curtain, and
looked out.

I'lie full April moon, round and white, shone down in sil-
verv radiance upon tho deserted avenue; tho sky was ugiitter
witii myriad stars: tho rattling of belated vehicles came, faint
and far oil', on the windless night.

No one was visible— not awn a stray "guardian of the
night," treading his solitary round — and Mollie, after one
glance at the suirry (;oncave, was about to dro]) tho curtuiU
and retire, when a tall, dark liguro came iluttering up the
street, j)ausiiig before the AValraven mansion, and gai-^ing u[)
earnestly at its palatial front.

^I^oilie recognized that towering form ins^tantly, and, im-
pulsively opeiung the sash, she leaned forward and (tailed:
"Miriam!"

'I'ho woman heard her, responded, and adva)icod.

.AIoUo leaned further out.

"' iiuve you ;ome to see me?"

TriK UNSEEN lilliDEnnOOM.

Sjf

Ull-

" J lilioulil iik(! in sm; you. I hoard you luiil Rl.iirne.l, and
cfimn hero, thoiiuh I did not expect to meet you !»,t tlii;s hour. "

'' Wait oiii; jiioMicnt," saidMollio; '' J will ;:/) down and lijt
you in."

She closed tlio window and fiOw down-stai.'.'J, openf'tl tho
liouse door softly, and beckojicd.

Miriatu c?iton'd. Ten minutes later, and they were yafely
closeted in the vounir ladv'.s eozv rofni.

" 8it down, Aunt Miriam, and take olT jour sliawl. You
look cold and wretched and half starveil."

Tho woman turned her iiollow eyes mournfully uj^on h'T.
They were indeed n contrast — the hriuht virion in tho roe eilk
di-eo.s, the ih;atint? amber curl.-;, tlu; milky jx'arls, the foamy
iaoe, and the weird woman in tho wrerclicd rn;x^% with siiiiktu
cheeks and hollow, s[)ee(ral ewc.

"■ r am cold and wretched and half starved." .she taid, in a
harsh vcice — " a miseralde, liamer's.^ outcast, forsaken of (<o<l
and man. !My l)ed is is, bundle of hhiiy straw, my food a crust
or a IjuHc, Tuy <j,u'ments ra<,'.s frua the .^utter.-^. Aiif) yet I
accept my fate, since vou are ri li a;id well and hap])y. "

" My nnor, })oor MiriamI Ial me go and get you .some-
thing to e:'.t, and a gla^s of wine to refresh you. It is ilread-
ful to see any human being .so destitute.''

[She started impetuously up, but Jliriam stretched forth
her hanii to diitain her, her (ierce i yes llaming up.

*' Xot half 60 dreadful, Mollic Dat.e, as the eating tiie bread
or drinking the cu]> of Carl WairavenI 'No; 1 told liim be-
fore, and I tell you now, I would die in a kennel, like a stray
ilo-jT, befoi'o r would aciicpt help from him."

"MiriamI"

Miriam made an impatient gesture.

" Don't let us talk about me. J^et us talk about yourself.
It is my lirst chiince since you came here, ^'ou are well and
happy, are you not? You look b()tii. "

" J am well und I am happy; that 's, as happy as 1 can be,
Ehroude 1 in mystery. Miriam, 1 hav(! been thinkitig about
myself. I have learned to think, of laus and I would give a
year of my life to kiu)W who I am."

" What do you want to know?" ^riiiam iisked, gloomily.

" Who I am; what my mime may be: who were my jmrenla
— everyihing that 1 ought to know."

" Why do you s])eak to me about it?"

" lic(;ause you know, J am certain; becau.se you can tell
Hie, if you will. Tidl me, Miriam — teil mel"

She ieuncd forward, her rinji'cd bauds clasped^ her blue i^yea

THE UKSEEN BRIDEGROOM.

lighted and eager, her pretty I'acc aglow. But Miiiam drew
back with a frown.

" I liuvf! ii.nliin;,^ t(» tell you, Mollie— nothing that would
make you belt ?r or happier to hear, l^c content and ask ho
questions.''

" J can't be content, and I must ask questions!" the girl
cried, passioinitoly. " If you cared fur uie, as you sfu ru lo,
you would tell nv ! What is Mr. Walraven to me? Why has
he broi'tj;nt me here?"

"Ask him."

" lie woTi't tell me. He says ho took a fanov to me. seeing

me play ' Fanchon ' at K , atul brought me here and

adopted me. A \ery likely story! ]S"o, Miriam; I am Billy
enough. Heaven knows, but 1 am not quite so silly as that.
He eauie after me bi'causu you .sent him, and because I have
some claim on him he dare not forego. What is it, Miriam?
Am I his daughter?"

Miriam sat and slared at her a moment in admiring won-
der, then her dark, giiunt face relaxed into a grim smile.

"Whit a sharp little witch it is! Ifis daughter, indeed!
What do you think about it yourself? Does the voice of nat-
ure speak in your lilial heart, or is tho resemblance between
you so strong?"

Mollip -dioi.k her sunny curls.

" The ' voice of nature ' has nothing to say in the matter,
and I am no m >ie like ium than a wliite duck is like u mae-
tiil. But it might he .^o, you know, for all liiat. "

*' 1 know. Would it make you any haj)pier to know you
were his daughter?"

" J don't know," Paid Mollio. thoughtfully. " I dare say
not. For, if 1 were his daughter and had a right to his name,
1 would probably bear it. and bo putilicly ai'knowledged as
such before no(v; and if J am his ihiughter, with no r^gbt to
his name, I know I would not live ten minutes under the
same roof with him after finding it out,"

" Sharp little Mollie! Ask no (jueslions, then, and Fll toll
you no lies. Take the goods the gods provide, and be con-
tent."

" But, Miriam, are you really my aunt?"

" Yes; that much is true."

" A:\d your name is Dane?"

'- It is.^

" And my mother was your sister, and I bear my mother'«
name?"

Tlie dark, weather-beaten face of tli« haggard womaa

THTi: UNSEEK BUTnEOROOM.

lighted up witli a fiery glow, and into oitlier «yo leaped a
devil.

" Moilio Dane, if j-ou ever want mo to spoak to yoii again,
nevor breathe tlie name of your imther. Wiiatover f-lie did,
and whatever she was, the grave has closed over her, nnd
there let her lie. 1 nrver want to hear her name this side of
eternit}'."

Mollie looked almost frightened; she shrunk away with a
wistful little sigh.

" 1 am never to know, then, it seems, and I am to go on
through life a cheat and a lie. It is very hard. lYople have
found out already 1 ani .lOt what I seem."

'' irow?" sharply.

" Why, the night 1 was deluded from home, it Wiis by a
letti'r signed ' Minan:,' purporting to eomo from you, sayijig
you were dying, and tiiat you wanted to tell me all. 1 went,
and walked straight into the cunniugest trap that ever was
set for a poor little girl."

" You have no idea from wlmin lliat letter came?"

" Not the slightest. 1 am pretty sure, though, it came
from my husband."

" Your— what?"

" My husband, Miriam! You didn't know Miss Dane was
a respectable married woman, did you? It's true, however.
I've been mairied over a month."

There was no doubting the face with which it was said.
Miriam sat staring, utterly confounded.

" rjood heavens! Married! You never mean it. Mollie?"

*' 1 do mean it. It's an nccomf>lished fact, Mrs. Miriam
Dane, and there's my we.dding-ring. "

She held up her left hand. Among the opals, and pearls,
and i)ale em«Malds flashing there, gleamed a little circlet of
plain gold — l^adge .)f woman'.< servitinie.

" Married!" Miriam gasped, in indescribable consternation.
" I thought you worv to marry Sir Tiogi'r Trajenmi?"

*' So I was — so I wo(dd liiive, if I liad been let alone. But
that letter from }ou ciime — that forgery, you know — and I was
carried off ami married, willy-nilly, to somebody else. Who
that somebody else is, I don't know."

"You don't know?"

" Haven't the slightest idea! I've a good mind to tell you
the story. I haven't fold any ot-n yet, and the weight of a
.secret a month old is getting a little too miieh for mo. It
would bo a rtli«f to gft some one idse to keep it for mc, and 1
fancy you liould keep a secret as well as any one else I know. ''

TIIC LXPf'KX DUiniXlROOM.

niim wi. 11,(1
gr,VA> star!.',

" I ' un kn'p your .-'lei-et, Mollic. Go on."

So Mr!ly- hi';.'..n and rt-liitod llio ronuuitic story of Hint
fortni^'lit .-"ho hui pii?r;('il away Lrm h nuv.

" Airi yo!i ff'iiS'Mitcd to niurry Ijiiur" ^lliiaiu c.\(-I;;iiii('d,
whiT. elu' liiil fTL't lliiit f:ir — " yon coiisonlcd lo Jiuirry a nr.\n
totally ur:kr:MV. II to yrn, *vhoso lace ViJii had not evi'ii si ■.)■,.
\vhc;-f nani'' you diil not, even l^i'ow, for tlio t-'akc of freed pni?
^lollif, vou'ie nothing but a midc-rablo iiltlc oor/ard, nitor

aii:*-'

•' r.rhaps so," said MoH'.o, detinntly. " I^it I would do it
again, and tn-jce a.-! niiuh, for freedom. 'I'jjink of boiiif;
cooped up in four siitlinp; wall^, shut in from the blessed snn-
(■hine and fc.-.li air of heaven. I teil yon that

have kept me there until now, and ] .should Inivi ^ ,

starin;.' mad in half thf time. Oh, dear!" cried Moliie, ini
patiently, " I wish I was a ;.rypi-'v, free arjd h:ii)py, to waniicr
about all day lon;,^ iin_;iin_w in ihe sntishino, to sleep at ni«:lit
under the wavii:?,' treta, to tell fortune?, and wear a pretty
searlet cloak, and never know, when I got up in tlu* morniiig,
where I would lie down at nipht. It's nothing but a imiH-
anoe, and a tionbie, nnd a bother, being rich, and die.s-ing
for dinner, and g'^mr to the opera and two or three parties of
a night, and being obligerl to talk and walk and eat and sleej)
by line an^l plummet. 1 hate it all I"

"You're tired of it, then?" Miriam asked, with a curioui
smile.

•• Yes;
as other

" 1 woHiiL-r you never take it into your
upon the siage. ^'"ii lik d that life?"

"Liked it:-' Yrri: and f will, too," said Mollic, reeklessly,
"some day, when I'm more than usually aggravated. Jt
strikes me. however, J fii')uld like to iind out my huriband
first."

" Finish your .storv. ^'oii nnvrried thi.-! masked man?"

" Yes: that vciy night, about midiught, W(> were married.
.Sarah canu to me early in the evening, ami told me to bf
ready, iha*. the elorgynuin woidd be there, and that 1 was to
be wedded under mv Christian mime, Mary, alone. I still
wore the wedding-robes in which 1 was to have been made
Lady Tiajenna. To llieso a white tilk niabk, completely hid-
ing ntv fac", wa.i added, and I w.i-^ kil forth by my njabkid
brid(;^room iritu another aiuitmenl . and ; t<*()d face to f;ice
with a poitly, revciend gentleman of mo.t clericid aspect and
most aiarmt'd fuee. i tlumglit he had a familiar look, \nxt in

;; just now I am. The iii will jiass away, I supjiose,
similar tits have jassed."

head to "o back

THE LXHIEX T'.r.IDKGROOM.

llJUt
!IC(1,

till- I- tiifuvimi of .such a luoiiiciif, I coulJ ii'.it fihioe liim. 1.
l:i!fi\v him iimv, Uu)ii;^h — it «'!is tho UiiVL'ivrul Kiiynioml ll,u\\-
i.'i.^'i, <tf SL l'iincri;s'. Pvo hi'ii/il him pveas.'h dozt-us of
lime."

" ll'v.v ' a,'ijo hu (.0 Ion] himself to suili :ui ii-reguhir pro-
rot'dmLi;.

" By I'niMO, ;is I (liil. Ili^ wad curried olT in much Hjc jhuio
Lisliioi;, and ."^ivuo 1 p.-ctLv marly out of hi.i \vit.s — murried m
to y;ij!l five— like mu again. At tho conclusion of thu ci.'io-
iui;ny, J rcturiud uit.h .Sa/ah to tho iiiner ronm, and the
licvereial .Mr. Jfudhlci;:!! u'us ^af dv taken home."

Thirf was a piuiso. iViollio sat luoking witii knitted brows
into the hrc

" Well?" fjucationed iMiriam, sharply.

" 1 stayed there a week," went on Moilie, hurriedly. " It
was part of the comjiact, and if he wa-; to kei^p lii«, iind liber-
ate me, I wad to remain (piietly as long as 1 had ]iiomiaed.
]5ut it was not so loni; in [jassiiii,'. 1 had the range of two or
three rooms— all with earfsnlly closed Minds, however— and I
liad a piano and plenty of books, and at^ much of JMiss Sarah
(irant's society as I chose. There was nothing to be got out
of her, however, and I tried hard enough, gooUuess kuowa.
Vou might as well wring a dry yponge. "

" And the man vou marrii;d?"

" Oil, ho was ilvre, too— niT and on every day; but ho kejtt
mo as mui'li In ilie dark as Sarah, lie ahvays persisted in
speakinu" l''reu(;h to iir,' — that 1 might fail to n>cogHi/e his
\oice, .1 (laie sav; and lu; spoke it as llueiiily as a Frem liiiuui.
J!ut he was really an agr-'tdjlo comitaiuon, could talk about
vything I liked to (alk about, could })lay tlie piano to a
Oiarm, aiid 1 should have !il '1 him immensily if \w had not
bi\>n mv husband, and if h " had not worn that odious mask.
I); you know, Miriam,'' llasliing a sudden look up. "if ha
had tak'M oil' that mask, and showed me the htvndsimie facf^
of one of my rejected suitors I did not absolutely abhor, f
think I shouLl have con;^ent:'d to stay with him alwa\s. Ifo
wa-j so luee ti> talk to, and 1 liked his bold stroko lor u wife —
so much in the * Dai'c-D'vil l)iid< ' .-(vie. .15ut i wcudd have
been torn to pieces before I'd have droi)ped a hint to tliafc
olTect."

"If it ha 1 l.een Doctor Oleander, would you have con-
.sented to stay with liim as Ids wife?"

" Doctor OhMuder? \o. Didn't I say if it were some one
1 did not iibsolutely abhor? I ab'-olidcly and utterly and alto-
gBfchor abhor uiul detest Doctor Oleunderl"

TlIK UNSEEN BKlDEfiUOOil.

" Wbut ia that? Some one is lisLoiiiiig. ''

Miriam hiul started in alarm to her fwf,; Mollie ix)se uj»
also, and btoixi lu-iirkoniiig. TIutu !):t(l bet n h e(i|ipiea.r;t,U
sound, like a convulsive sneeze, ciit.-^idu tlio door, MoUio
flnng it wide in xii instant. Tho hall lam[) pound down its
subdued light all along Ihe stately corridor, on pictures and
btatuos and nabinets, but tio living thing was visible.

" There is no one," said Alitllie. It was cats or rats, or tho
rising wind. Every one in the house is aslrop. "

She closed the door and went back to the tire. As she did
so, a face peeped out from behind a great, carved Indian cab-
inet, not far from tho door — a face iighled with a diabolical
umile uf trium]>h.

CIIAPTEU XII.

" BI-ACK MASK "-

-" ^V^ITE MASK."

" Finish your story!" exclaimed Miriam, impatiently.
" Mori.ing is coming, and like owls and t)ats and oiher nox-
ious creatures, I hide Trom tho daylight. How did you
escape?"

*' I didn't escape," said Mollie. " I couldn't. Tho week
expired — my masked husband kept his word and sent nie
home."

" .S'Mt you I Did ho not fetch von?"

" 5io; the man whu drove th carriage — who, with the girl
Sarah, witnessed (he cjarriage- -brongiit me. Sarah bound
IBS, aitb«)ugh there was no occasion, and tho man led mo
«k-imn aail put me \n. Sarah accompanied me, and I was
*br§Tea to the very Cicner here. They let me out, an. I, before
I had time to cuteh my b.-euiii, were oil" and away."

" Ani that is all?" said Miriam, wonleringlv.

" Ah! I shoui I think it was enough. It sdum Is more like
a chapter out of the ' Castle of Otranto,' or the ' Jlysli'ries o(
Udolpho,' than an incident in the life of a mml-rn New York
belle. For, of course, you know, Miihimi! Mn-iani," oondiid-
ed the pretty coquette, tossing back airily all her bright curls,
*' 1 am a belle — a n igning bt-lle — the bcuuty of the sra>'on!"

" A little conceited, goosey girl — th;it's what you are, Mol-
lie Dane, whom evoL *ihij '.eriible event can not make serious
and sensible."

" Terrjt)le event! Now, Miir.m. I'm not so sure about
tbilt. if 1 liked the hero of the anv't nture — and I have liked
some of my rejected flirtees, ])oor follows! — I should admire
his pluck, and fall straightway in love witli liini for his ro-

THE UNSEEN P,RIDEGEOOM.

'I'

mantio daring. It is so like what those old follows — knights
anil barons and things — usod to do, you know. And if I
didn't like him — if it were Sardonyx or Olciindo'; — sure, thore
would be tho fun and faiuo of having my name in all the
papers in the country as the heroine of tho most romantic ad-
venture of modern times. I'liere would be sensation noveKs
and high-pressure melodramas mamifai'turcvl out of it, and I
would llgure in the Divorce Court, and wake up some day,
like Lord J*.yron, and lind mysidf tamous. "

Miriam listened to this rattle with a face of infinite con-
tempt.

"Silly child I It will ruin your prospects for life. Sir
lloger will never marry you now."

" No," said Mollie, composedly, " 1 don't think he will;
for tho simple reason that I wouldn't have him."

" Wouldn't have him? What do you mean?"

" What I say, auntie. I wouldn't marry him, or anybody
else, just now. I meiin to find out who is my husband tirst. "

" Po they know this extraordinary story?"

Mollio laughed.

" No, poor th-ings! And he and guardy are dying by inches
of curiosity, (ruardy has coiujocted a story, and tel!:i it with
his blandest air to everybody; and everybody smiles, and bows,
and listens, and nobody bfdieves a word of it. And that odious
Mrs. Carl — there's no keeping her in tho dark. IShe has the
cunning of a serporit, that wonnm. She has an inkling of
the truth, already."

" How?"

" Well. Mv. Kashleigh — the clorgymtm. you know, who was
alnlucted to marry ut^ — was at a diniior-party this very day —
or, rather, yesterday, for it's two in the morning now — and at
diimer he related his whole wonderful adventure. Of course,
he didn't see my face or know nic; but ho described the brido
— '^mall, slender, with a profusion of golden ringlets. You
.shoiili! have seen Mrs. Carl look across the table at me —you
should have h "ard her hiss in my ear, in her venomous, ser-
pent-liko way: ' I think I know where you spent that fort-
night.' 1 couldn't sleep to-night for thinking of it, and that's
iiow 1 camo to be awake so late, and to see y')u tr;>m the win-
dow, f'tn not afraid of her; but J know she means me mis-
< hi.'f, if .she can."

Miriam gaz^'d Ihouirhtfully at her. She looked }i very help-
lestf, childish little creature, sitting thore — tho youthful face
looking out of that sunshiny elouil of curls.

r40

TIFF-: rXREEN T.I! IDEO ROOM.

" tSlio is yo!u- (U:i;lly enemy, then, MoUio. Why does she
dislike you l^o much?"

" Because T dislike her, I .siijijiose, and iihrsiv^ did, iind she
knew it. Jt is ii ciise of mutual repuj ^iou. '\\'e won; eiieniica
at firfcit siL'lit. Then ylie is jealous of riic — of my iuliueneo
with hor hushaud. I^he is jH'ovoked thut she w\ not fathmn
i!ie mystery of my belongings, and she thinks, J know, i am
Wr. Walriivcn'd dau.irhter, ,'<ii/j rosi/; and, to cu}) tlie elimnx, 1
ron'i^ marry her eoiisin, Doctor Oleander-."

" A i)u seem to dislike Docl.or OlcsindLT very mu;'h?"

" 1 do," said M;>llic. iiiihily. " i 'd uive him and tin; hand-
some lilanche a do^re cf rftryclnn'ne ( aeh, with all tlie jdea-'.ure
in life, if it wasn't a hanginjf nitittcr. J doJi't ''are about
beinjij luiufxod. Jt'.s liad enough Lo bo married and not knovr
who your inuiband is.''

" ir, may be this ]>oi-lor Oleander."

ilollie's eyes bla/.cd up.

" If it is!" — she eatiglit her breath and stojijr.Ml — " if it is,
Miriam, I vow I would blow his l)r<iin3 out first, and my own
afterward I No, no, nol Siu-.h a horiible thing couldn't l)el"

" Do j'ou know, I^Iollie,'' sai.i Miriam, slowly, '* 1 ihink
yon are in love?*'

" Ah! do you really? Well,, Miriam, you used to .spao
fortunes for a living. Look into my palm now, and tell mo
who is the unha))py man.'"'

"■ Js this artist you speak of handsome and young?"'

" Handsome smd young, and tolerably rich, and remarka'dy
clever. Is it lie?"

" 1 think it is."

MoUie smiled softly, and looked i.ito the glowing masi of
coals.

" You forget I refused him, Miriam."
" l^ahl a girl's cuprite. If you discovered he was your mys-
terious husband, would you blow out his brains and youi

own

•"

" \o," said Mollii', coolly. " T would much rather live
with Hugh Ingelow than die with liim. irandsomo irugh!'
Her eyes sjfteiu'd and <sfv\v humid. " You are right, Miritini.
Yon can s])ae foi-lunes, 1 see. I do like Hugh, dearly. Hut
ho is not the man.''

" "N'o? Are you sure?"

" Quite sure, lie is too chi/alrons, for one thing, to forco
a lady's inclination."

" i)on'L (rust any of thun. Their motto io: 'AH fair in

TTIK I'NFF.EN I'.IIIDEOKOOM.

lovol' Ami then, you know, you played liim a very bhabby
triuk."

" I knoNv 1 did."

Mis^i DiUio Iiiii;^ht'd al, the recollection.

" And ho suid lie would not foi-<.;nt."

" So tliL'V all said. That';^ why I fear it may bo one of the
throe."

" And it ia one of the three; and you aro not the clever f,'irl
1 give you credit to be if you can not find it out."

■'How?"

" Aro thoy so much alike in heijiht, and gait, and manner
of s))rakin<,% and llfty other thiegs, that you can't identify
him in npile «>f his mask?"

" It i.s not so easy to recognize -a masked man when ho dis-
guises him.-;elf in a long (doak and np'-aks l-'rcnch in a feigned
voice. Those tluv'e nu'.n an* very niii' li of a luigli!, ami all
arc straight and slender. I tried and tried again, J tell you,
dtiring that, last week, and always failed. Sometimes 1
thought it was one, and Komelimes anotlu^r. "

" 1'ry once more," said Miiiaiu, pithily.
" How?"

Are ynu afraid of this ma kevl man?"

"Afraid? Certainly not. I have nothing to fear. Did
h'"' n<:)t k"ep his word and restore mc to my friendt* at the ex-
piration of the week? You xiiould have heard him, Miriam,
at that last interview — tlie elxjuent, earnest, inipassioned way
in whiel) h(^ bid me good-bye. I declare, I felt lem]itei' f')r
Jill instant to say: ' Look here, Mr. Miisk; if you love me like
thai, and if you're absolutely not a fright, take off that ugly,
black dealh'ri-head you wear, and I'll stay with you always,
sinie I am your wife.' IWit I didn't."

" You would not fear to meet him again, then?"

'■ On the contrary, I should like it, of all things. There is
a halo of ronjance about this mystej-ious husbaiivl of mine that
reiuhMN him intensely interesting. (lirls love n^mance dearly;
and I'm only a girl, you know."

" And the silliest girl I ever did know," suM !\Iiiiam. " I
believe you're more tlian half in l.»vu with f!ii> man iu the
mask; and if it turns out to be the artist, )'oii will plumii into
his arms, iorever and aUvays."

" 1 shouldn't wondir in the least," res])onded the young
lady, coolly. " I ruser kiu'w how much I liked [)Oor dear
Hugh until T gave hiui his iDinji. \W^ .so Aery, very, very
handsouie, }(iu see, Miriam; and 1 adore beauty."

" Very well. Find out if it'a he — and liud out ut onoe."

THE UNSEEN TUtlDEOROOM.

" More easily S:iid than done, isn't it?"

" Kot at all. You don't euppose ho bus left the city?*'

" No. lie tol-1 me that ho would not leuvt! — that h« would
reuifti!! and vviiteh mo, unscon and iinknmvn."

" Tlieii, if you adverLlsc — if you address him through tha
medium of the daily j):i])er8 — he will sue and answer your ad-
vertit-emont. "

" ViTY probably, liut he isn't goin^ to toll me who hn is.
If he had any intention of doing so, he would have done it lust
week."

Miriam shook her head.

" I'm not so sure about tluit. You never iiskod him to re-
veal himself. You gave him no reason to 8U[)pose you would
do otherwise tlian Hcorn and flout him, lot liim b(! who ho
might. It is ditl'erent now. If it is Hugh Ingelow, you will
forgive him ail?"

" Miriam, see hero: why arc you so anxious I should forgive
this man?"

" Because I want to see you some respectable mair.s wife;
because I want to see you safely settled in \\U\ ai;d n" longer
left to your own caprices, or thot^e of C!arl Walravcn. If you
love this Hugh Ingelow, ami nuirry him, you may j)robably
beonme a rational being and a sensible nuitron yet."

Mollie made a wry face.

" The last thing I over want to be. And I don't beliovo
half a dozen husbands would over transform me into a ' sensi-
ble matron.' But go on, all the name. I'm open to sugges-
tion. What do you want me to do?"

" AddiOHS this num. Ask him to appoint a mooting. Meet
him. Tell him what you have toM nn', and iiiak(; him reveal
himself. He will be sure to do it, if he thinks there are
grounds for hope."

" And if it turns out to be Snrdnnyx or Oleander — and 1
have a prcsontimunt that it's thi; latter — what then?"

" ' Siilllriont unto the day is the evil thereof.* I don't l)e-
lievo it is either. From what you toll mo. of thorn, 1 am sure
neilhor would behave so honorably at the last — keeping his
promi><e aiul fetching y^u home."

"There is somcthuig in that," said Mollie, thoufrhtfully.
" Units-, in Iced, tin y grow tired (»f me, or were afraid to im-
prison me longor. And my masked husband talked, at the
j)arting, as neither of these reptiles coidd talk. It may bo
eorae one of whom I hnvo never thought — who knows? I've
had such a rpuintity of lovers that 1 couldn't p'ossibly kee]) thf-

THE UNSEEN rRIDEOltOOM.

aumn.

ruu of thom. irowovor, as I'm dying to meet biiu
whoever ho is, I'll tuko y ur uJ.iuo r.ml addri'Ba him."

Miriam ium-.

*' That is well. And now 1 mmt be gnipg. It is \y&iA
throo, and New York streets will presoiitly bo lutir. I have
ii Ion;; w;iy to '^o, anil no winh to hv. seen."

"Miriam, stop. Can't I tlo anythinfr to assist you? Yoa
are half atarvrd, I know: and no miserably clad. Do— do lot
mo aid yon?"

" Novcr!" the woman cried, " whilo yon are boneatli thii
roof. If ever you selLlo down in a house of your own, and
your hinbanil jiormit-i you to aid so (ii.sreputable a bcMU^' as I
am, I may iiaten to you. All you have now beIotifr>< to Carl
Walraven; and to olTer mo a farthinf^ of Carl Walraven's
money id to olYor me the deadlioKt of insults."

" How you hate him I how he must have wron<;od you I"
Again th'it burning blaze leaped into the woman's haggard
eyes.

" Ay, girl! hate and wrong are words too poor and weak to
express it. 15ut I bide my time — and it will surely come —
when I will have my revenifo. "

She opened the door and ])aRsed out swiftly. The listener
at the key-hole barely escaped behind the cabinet — no more.

Mollie, in her rosy silken robes, like a little goiUkvd Aurora,
followed her out, down the stair.s, and opened for her the
house door.

The first little pink clouds of the coming morn were blush-
ing in the east, and the rag-women, with their bags and hooks,
were already a.^tir.

" When shall I see you again?" Mollie said.

Miriim turned ami looked at her, half wonderingly.

" Do you really wish to see me again, iloliie — such a
wretclied-looki'.ik being as I am?"

" Are you not luy aunt?" Mollie cried, passionately.
" How do ] kn >\v ih re is another being on this earth in whose
reins How the si;m'; blood as mine? And you — you love me, I
think."

" Heaven knows I do, Mollie DancI"

" Then why wrong me by such a question? Come again,
and again; ami come soon. I will b-
And now, farewell!"

She held out her little white hand,
had ])arted.

The young girl went slowly back to her room to disrobo mJ

on the watch for you.
A moment, and they

IMAGE EVALUATION
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Photogisphic

Sciences

Corporation

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23 WEST MAIN STREET

WEBSTER, N.Y. 145B0

(716) 872-4503

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<*^^

TIIK UNSF.F.X HUIDlXJKOOif.

U(> ilowii, au',1 tho htiggiinl wduhui liilLcd nijtidiy 1i\)(n .street to
fiiroct, uii hor \v';iy L'j i.he droiviy loJgingd slio ciillcil homi.'.

'Pwo <lii,Y:? sifLor, viiiiiiing Ikt cyos j^ruodily over the innrning
]i.il)cr, Miriiim retul, hoiuliug thu list of " iVrsoiuils:"

" l'>i,A( K ^Mask. — I vv'sli to SCO you 8:)on, and uloiie. 'I'licro
is no docfj)tioii Die.uit. Appoint tini-j an I pl.ice, an I 1 will
meet you, Wijitf, Mask."

" So," said the woman to heraolf, " shi; ji;'-; kc|it h.-r woi'd„
l?i!ivo littlo Mollii'! OhI that if. ui.iy bo llu man kIu' lovca!
1 sliouid bo almost ha])pv, 1 think, to seo lu-r hiijipv — Mary's
child:"

Miriam waited impatiently for the response. In two dayi
it came:

" AViUTK Mark. — To-morrow, Friday ni;,dit, ten o'clock.
Corner Fourteenth {Street and liroadway. JJlack Mask."

" 1, too, will be there," said Miriam. " It can do no
harm; it may, |X)3sibly, do some good."

ClIAPTEIl XIJI.

MRS. CAUL UAI.I'AVKX'.S l.lTTl.K GAME-

MvsTKRious Miriam, in her dismal garret lodjjfing, waa not
the only person who read, and intelligently comprehended,
tiie.so two very singular advertisements.

or all tho hund roils who may have perused and wondered
nvv!r them, ])robal)ly there wore but four vvlio understood in
tho least v.'hat was nx'.'ant — tho two most interested, and
Miriam and M;--. Walraven.

Stay! There was thu Kevereiul Raymond Kashieigh, vho
miidit have soon his wav through, haJ he chanced to read tho
" I'ersonal " column of the pa()er.

Oil the Thursday morning that this last advertisement ap-
pearcH.1, Mis. Carl Wahaven sat alone in the pretty boudoir
sacred to hor ])rivaoy. It was her c!;'iico to breakfast alone
sometimes, oi ili^halillc. It had been her choice on this ])ui-
ticular day.

At hor elbow stood the tiny round table, with its ex(|uisite
appointments of glass, and porcelain, and sdver; its chocolate,
its toast, its eggs, its little broih'd bird.

Mrs. Walraven was of the luxurious sort, as your full-
blown, high-blooded Cleopatras are likely to bt;, and did
ample justice to tlio exquisite cuinmc of the Walraven man-
sion.

THK UNSKEK l;l;II)K(iUOO.\!.

Lying back graeofnlly, her linmlsome moniiiig robe falling
Joos(!ly iiroinid her, hor .'■•up''rb blu-k hair twisted away in u
carchiris, Heipent-irii' coil, hir faco fresh and blooniin;^^ " ji^
j)i:a(!o with tho world and all therein,'' my lady JUiinciio
digested lu-r breakfast and leiii-urely skimmeil the morning
paper.

rSho always liked the "Personals." To-day they had a
double interest for her. She reail again and again — a doxen
timi'H, at least — that particular " Personal " ajipointing the
meeting at Fourteenth Street, and a lazy smile canio over her
tro])ical face at last a.i b:he laid it down.

"iS'iithing could be better," mused Mrs. Walraven, with
that inilolcnt smile shining in her lazy, wicked black eyes.
*' The little fool bets her trap, and walks into it herself, liko
the inconceivable i.liot t;he is. It reminds ojie of the ostriih,
this advertisement — pretty Mollie buries her head in the sand,
and fancies no one sees her. Now, if (!iiy only ]/lays his part
— and I think he will, for he's absurdly and ridiculously in
love with the fair-haired tom-bov — she will be caught in the
nicest trap ever silly s-'ventcn v/alked into. She was caged
once, and got free. She will fnid herself caged again, and not
got free, i shall have my revenge, and Guy will have Ills m-
am^rata. I'll send for him at once."

Mrs. Walravon rose, soug'.it out her blotting-book, took a
sheet of paper and an envelojjo, and scrawled two or three
words to her cousin:

" DKAit Gi'Y, — Come to me at once. I wish to seo you
most i)artieularl\'. Don't lose a moment.

" Very truly,

" Blanche."

Ringing the bell, Mrs. Walr; ven dis^)atcli d this little mis-
eive, and then, re(;lining easily in the downy dejiths of her violet
whot/dufeiiil, she fell into a reverie that la4ed for upward
of an hour. With sleepy, fdow, h:dt-e!osed eyes, the wicked
ftnile just curving the ripe-red niwuth, Mnie. J^huuihe wan-
dered in the land of meditation, and had her little ))lot all cut
nnd dry as the toy Swiss deck on the low mantel struck up a
lively waltz jwcparatory to strikiii" "leven. J'ire the last sil-
very chime had (ieased vibrati?ig, the door of tho boudoir
opened anil Dr. Guy OhaMler Widked in.

"Good-morning, Mr.;. Walrascn," said the toxicologist,
briskly. " You sent for me. What's tho matter?"

lie took oil hia 'all hut, Bet it on a sofa, throw his gloves

9(5

THE JNSEEX HRTDEOROOM.

into it, and indulged in a prolonged professional stare at hi«
fail" relative.

" Kothing very serious, I imagine. You're the picture of
handsome health, iioally, Hlaiicho, the Walraven air seema
to agree with yon. You grow freshet, and brighter, and
plumper, and bolter-lookijig every day."

" 1 diiln't send for you to pay compliments, Doctor Olean-
der," said Mrs. Walraven, Ruiiling graciously, ail the same.
' See it that door is shut fadt, please, and come and sit hero
beside me. I've soniethitig very serious to say to you."

Dr. Oleander did as directed, and took a seat beside tho
lady.

" Your husband won't happen in, will he, Blanche? lie-
cause he might be jealous, you know, at this close proximity;
and your black-a-vised men of unknown antecedents are
generally tho very dickens when they fail a prey to the green-
eyed monster."

" Pshaw! are you not my cousin and my medical adviser?
Don't bo absurd, Guy. Mr. Walraven troubles himself very
little about me, one uay or other. I might hold a levee of
my gentk-men friends here, week in and week out, for all be
would know or care."

"Ah! po8t-nu[)tial bliss. 1 thought marriage, in his case,
would be a safe atitidote for love. All right, lilanche. Push
ahead. What's your business'-* Time is precious this morn-
ing. Hosts of patients on hand, and an interesting case of
lej)ro8y up at Bellevue."

" I don't want to know your medical horrors," said Mrs.
Walraven, with a shudder of disgust; " and I think you will
throw over your patients when you hear tho subject 1 want to
talk about. That subject is— Mollie Dane!"

" Mollie!" The doctor was absorbed and vividly interested
all at; once. " What of Moliio Dane?"

" This," lowering her voice: " 1 have found out the grand
secret. 1 know whore that mysterious fortnight was spent."

"Blanche I" He leaned forward, almost breathless.
" Have you? Where?"

" You'd never guess. It sounds too romantic — too incred-
ible—for belief. Even the hackneyed truism, ' Truth is
istranger than liction,' will hard'y suttice to conquer one's
astonishment — yet true it is. Do you recollect the Reverend
Mr. Rashleigli's story at tho dinner-party, the other day —
tluiu iniu-edible tale of his abduction and the mysterious mar-
liago of tho two masks?"

'* I recollect — yes."

THE UNSEEN BKIDEOROOM.

•7

*' He spoko of the bride, you remember — described her aa
Bnaall and slender, with a profuiiou oi fair, curling hair."

" Yes— yo8 — yes!"

"Guy,*' fixing her powerful blank eyes on his face, "do
you need to be told who that masked bride was?"

" Mollie Dane!" cried the doctor, impetuously.

" Mollie Dane," said Mrs. Walraven, calmly.

" By Jovel"

Dr. Oleander sat for a instant perfectly aghast.

" I only wonder it did not strike you at the time. It
struck mo, and I whispered mv sut-picion in lier ear as wo
pjiaaed into the drawing-room. Jiut ehe is a perfect actress.
^Neither start nor look betrayed her. She stared at nie with
those insolent blue eyes of hers, as though she could not pos-
sibly comprehend.*'

" Perhaps she could not."

Mrs. Walraven looked at him with a quiet smile — the smile
of conscious triumph.

" She is the cleverest actress 1 ever saw off the stapo — so
clover that I am sometimes incliiu'd to suspeo'^ she may have
been once on it. No, my dear (iuy, she undersioml perfectly
well. Mollie Dane was the extraordinary bride Mr. liash-
leigh married that extraordinary night."

" And who the devil," cried Dr. (Jiiy, using powerful lan-
guage in his excitement, " was the biniegroom?"

"Ahl" said Blanche,- " there's the rub! Mr. Kashlcigh
doesn't know, and I don't know, uud Mollie doesn't know,
herself."

" What!"

" My dear Doctor Oleander, yaur eyes will start from your
head if you stare after that fashion. No; Mollie doe.-iu't
know. Bhe is married; but to whom she lias no more idea
than you have. Does it not sound irjcrtHlible'r"'

" Sound? It is iriorcdible — impossible — absurd!"

" Precisely. It is an accomplished fa^t, all the game.'*

"Blanche, for Heaven's sake, explainl" exclaimed the
young man, impatiently. " What the foul fiend do you
nean? I never heard such a cock-and-bull story in all my
life!"

"Nor I. But it is true, neverthe'ess. Listen: On tho
night following the dinner-party I did tho meanest action of
my life. I played eavesdropper. 1 listened at MoUie's door.
All for your sake, my dear Guy."

" Yes?" said Guy, with an mcnnlulous smile.

" X listened," pursued Mrs. Blanche, " and 1 overheard the

THE L'NSKEN r.lUI)K<51iOOM,

Btimij^^est confession over m;i(](!, I heliivo — iMollio Dane rolufc-
iiig tho ail venture's of tlinL liiiiiion forlnijjjht, at midnight, to
thill; oiiigiihu' crciiture, Miriam."

''Miriiuii: Wlio isaho?"

' Oiil yoii rcmiimbor — tlio woman who tried to stop my
marriage. MoUio quieted heron lliat oeasion, und they iiud
a private talk."

" Yes, yeyl J remctubor. Co on. How did Miriam come
to be with MoiJie, ui.-.d wiio Ihe misehii'f is Miriam?"

"Her aunt. '^

"ileraunt?"

" ller motlier's sister — yes. Her motlier's name was Dane.
Who that mother was," said Mrs. Walra\eii, with s])iteful
emj^hasiiv " 1 fancy Mr. Wahaven could tell you."

"Ahl" said her cousin, wilh a siilelong glance, "1
Bhoulilii't wonder. I'll not ask him, however. Proceed."

" I took to reading a novel after 1 came liomc;" jjroceeded
Mrs. Walravon, "and my husband went to bed. I ruiuiined
Willi my book in the drawing-room, very mudi interested,
until nearly midnight. 1 fancied all in the hou.e had retired;
therefore, when 1 hrard a soft rustling of silk swishing jjast
the drawing-ro(jm door, J was considerably surprised. An
instant later, and tiie house door v»as softly unfastened. 1
turned the handle noiselessly and peeped out. There, in her
pink dinner toilet, jewels and all, was Miss Dane, stealing
upstairs, and following her, tliis wretched, ngged creaturw,
Miriam."

"Well?" said the doctor.

" Well, I followed. They entered Miss Dane's chamber
»nd closed the door. The temptation was strong, the spirit
willing, and the llesh weak. I crouclicd at the key-hole and
listened. It was a very long conversation — it was fully three
o'clock before Miriam departed — but it held me spell-bound
with its interest from begimnng to end. 0/ioe I was nearly
caught — I sneezed. I vanished behind a big cabinet, and just
saved myself, for they opened the door. Mollie set it down
ito the wind, or the rats, closed the door again, and my curi-
osity overconung my fear of detection, I cre]»t back and lieard
every word."

" Well?" again said the doctor.

" Well, Mollie made a clean breast of it. On her wedding-
night she was enticed from the house by a letter parporiing
to como from this Miriam. 'J'he letter told lier that Miriam
was dying, and that she wiohtd to make a revelation of her
parentage to Mollie, before «he departed for a worse laud. U

THE IKSKKN i'.KIDKOROOM.

seems slio knows Mi^s Itiiiiu's aiiLoccilont.-', aiul Mi«3 Dauft
(loesii'r,. Moliio went ut ome, as thu UovcicikI lJit\mona
liiislilciij,'!! (lid, ami, Jiko him, wan blimlfuldeil uiul brminl,
borne away to soiiu* unknown houses, imhtidy knows where,
waited on by the j^'irl who carried tins letter, aJid held a fast
|)risonor by a uian in a l)la(;k mas'li. Thiit man's faeu Mullio
never s^a^v, nor has .she the least idea ol whom it may be. »Sho
id inclined to suspeet von."

" Mel-"

'J'he doffor's stare of asfconidliment was a .si^jit to behold.

" It is yon, or Sardonyx, (.r In.L'elow — one of you three^
Mollie • cerlaiji. The i)arll(!ular ono she can't decide. Sha
dreads i m;iy be either the law}i.^r or the doctor, and hopeSj
with all i. r heart, it may lie the artist."

J)r. Oleander's Kwartliy brows knit with a midnifrht scowl.

" She is in love wiih this piipl»y, Ingelow. I have thought
Hs mne'i for some time."

*' iiopelessly in love with him, and perfectly willing to bo
his svifo, if he proves to bo Ikt husband. Should it chance to
Ix! yon, nhe will administer a dose of stryclmino tho lirst avail-
Able opportunitv. "

"She^aid that, did slio?"

" That, and much more. She hiites, detests, and ubhond
you, anil loves tho handsoiuc artist with all her heart. "

" Tl;e little jade! And how about her elderly adnn'rer?"

" Sir Roger? Oh! he is to get the go-by, ' Men havii
died, and worms have eaten them, but not fur love.' He will
stand (he blow. ' All for love, and the world \';ell lost,' is to
b'j her motto for the fuinre. She is in love wilh Ifngh, and
Hugh slie niust have. Tliti spoiled baby is tired of all its old
toys, and wants a new (Mie."

" And she married this masked man, and never saw liim?
That is odd."

" The whole all'air is excessively odd. Yon know how im-
patient she naturally is. She grew desperate in her conllne-
ment in a few days, and was ready to sell her birthright for r.
mess of pottage — ready to i-iain'iliee lu-r freedom in one way fo*
'her freedom in another. She had the man's promise that Iw
would return her to her friends a week after she became Im
wife. She married him, and he kept his promise."

*' And he never let hir see his face?"

" Never! and she can not even t-iispect who it is. He wora
a long, disguising cloak that coneealed his iiguro, fals;- beard
and hair, and 8})oko only Freucli. Uut sh« hopes it may be
lli'gh Ingelow. Whut do you think?"

100

TUE LNS];j;^ i;iiiJ)KUUooM.

" That is not Hugh Ingelow. The fellow hasn't energy
euougli to ontrai) a ily. "
* Sanlonyx, iht'ii?"

" Sanloiiyx is too cautious. lie knowa too much of the law
to run !iis heail into tlio lion's jaws. J'esiilos, it is too abinirdly
romaiitii: for so jxadiLal a man. No, it is not Sardonyx."

" Yourself, thin?"

The dortor Imi^'hed.

*' Nonsense, Ijiaiiche! Mollie is out of her recknniii>^' about
us three. Hy the bye, I sec now tliroiigii those (jiioer adver-
tisements lliat have appeared in the ' lleiaM ' of late. Jilaok
Mask -White Mask. '^

" Ye.s; Mollie wants tc find out whom she has espoused.
By Miriani's advice, she inserted that tirst sklvertisement to
131aok Mask. He, as you perceive, refdies in to-day's edition.'*

" And she is to meet him to-morrow night."

" Exactly; and will, unless you forestall him."

" JIovv?"

*' Don't bo stupid, pray. What is to hinder you from being
at the place of rendezvous first siud playing Black Mask?'^

" I beg your pardon; 1 am stupid still. Jilack Mask will
be there iiimself."

" Look here: ten is the hour. Toward evening I wiil ad-
vance every time-piece in the house, Moilie's watch included,
half an hour. Hha will bo at the place of tryst ut half past
nine. Bo you there, likewise — cloaked, bearded, bewigged.
Have a carriage in waiting. Make her think you are Hugh
Ingelow, and she will enter it without hesitation. tS])eak
French. She will not recognize your voice. Onco in the car-
riage, carry her oti. "

" Where?" asked the doctor, astonished at the rapidity of
all this.

" To Long Island — to the farm. She will bo as safe there
as in Sing Snig. Make her think you are her unknown hus-
band. It will be easily done, for she half thinks it now.
Only — look out for the strychnine!"

The doctor rose to his feet, his sallov/ face flushed, his small
black eyes 8p:irkling.

" By Jovel Blanche, what a plotter you are! I'll Co it, as
sure as my name's Guy. 1 love the little witch to madness,
»n\ I owe her one for the way she jilted me. I'll do it, by
thunder!"

" Very well," seid Mrs. Walraven, quietly. " Don't gei
exoibed, and don't make a noise. I knew you would. **

'* But what will the old lady say?"

THE TNSKKN BRIPEOnOOM.

IOj

>»

** Who cares for tho old ladv?" retorted Mmo. Blanche,
tontt'iuptuotisly. " Not you, 1 li 'pe. Tell h«r it's an iiisano
patient you havi! brought to her f h- quiet and sea air. Judy
IB a rej^ular dragon, and the old vvornan in as keen as a ferret
and as sly as a fi-niale fox. Mollio won't escape from tlii-m.
She may yield, if blio really is eonvineed you arc Iut husband.
Tell her you love her to distraction — can't live without her,
and so on. Slio may yield. Who knows? These girls aro
bundles of ineonsi.sii'ncies, and Mollie J)ario the most incon-
sistent of the tribe. Have tho ceremony performed over again
bi'fon* wiliu'sscs, and bring her back here in a month — Mrs.
(!uy Oleander! Even if she won't consent from pity for your
state, she may to escape from that dreary Long Island farm.
She did once before, you know, and may af;;iin. That is all I
have to suggest, (iuy. "JMio rest is with yourself. In tho
voi-abulary of great ni'Mi, tiiero is no such word as fail."

She rose up. Dr. Oleander grasi>ed her hand in an out-
burst of entiiusiaatic gratitude.

" Blanche, you're a brick — a trump — a jewel beyond price!
\ don't know how to thank you. You're a woman of genius
— a wife for a Talleyrand!"

" Thanks. Let me bo able to return the compliment. J
ask no more. Let mo see how cleverly you will carry oft
pretty Mollie. I ncTer want to see her under this roof again."

CHAPTER XIV.

THE SPIDER AND THE FLY.

The April day had been very long, and very, very dull in
the handsome Walraven Fifth Avenue palace. Long and
lamentable, as the warning cry of tho banshee, wailed the
dreary blast. Ceaselessly, dismally beat the rain against tho
glass. The icy breath of tho frozen North was in the wind,
curdling your blood and turning your skin to goosc-llrsh; and
the sky was of load, and the streets were slippery and sl'>ppy,
and the New York pavements altogether a delusion and a
snare.

All through this bad, black April day, Mollie Dane had
wandered through the house, upstairs and dowu-stairs, like an
uneasy ghost.

Some evil spirit of unrest snroly posseased her. She could
SfOllle nowhere. She throw her^u'lf on a sofa in her pretty
bedroom, and tried to beguile the forlorn hours with tho latest
novel. In vain. She yawned horribly over the pages and
flung it from her in disgust.

!02

TIIK UNSEEN lUlTDEnUOOM.

SIic wiindoi'cd down to tlio (lni\vinr,'-voom and triod the
gruiul })iuii;i, \vho.,(> tones wi'.ro as (ho luinic of tlio Kphoroa.
Still in v;iiii. Tlio listless lingers fell aiink.saly on tlni ivory
koys.

iSlio strove to sleep, hut the nervous res^tl(^ssness that poa-
soHsod her only drove her to tho verge of feverish madneas in
t!ie elTort. The girl was ]«ossesaed of a waking niglitmare
not to be shaken olT.

" What is it?" cried Mojlie, impatiently, to herself.
'' What iho inisehief 8 the matter with me? I never felt liko
fhis hefi)re. It can't l)e remor-o for some unacted crime, t
never oonimitted murder that J know of. It can't ho dys-
pejisiu, ftir I've got the dige.stiv(! powiirs of an anaconda. It
caa't he tlie v.eather, for I've struggleil through one or two
othi>r rainy days in my life-time; and it can't bo anxiety for
■It to oome, for i'ju not apt to get irito a gale about
f Terhaps it's a ])re.sentimcnt of evil to come. I'vo

^leii... of such things. It's either tliut or a tit of tho blue-
devils!"

'I'ho long, wet, windy day wore on. Mr. Walraven sic[)t
thiough it comfortably in his study. Mrs, Walraven had a
/r/r-a-fr/r luncheon with her cousin, tho ti('Ctor, and dawdled
tho slow hours away over iier tricot and fashion magazines.

Old Mme. Waha\cu rarely left her own apartments of late
davs. iMother-in-1'^w and diiughter-in-!aw detested each other
with an intensity not common ev(;n in that relationship. How
sho ever killed time was a my-tery unknown. IMollie good-
iiatiu-eJly devoted a couple (>r her precious daily houivj to her.

Tho house was as still as a toml). Down-stairs, Messrs.
Johnson and Vv'ilson, Mr. Coachman, Mme. (!ook and Mile.
Chambermaid may have enj(;yed themselves in one another's
society, but above the kitchen cabinet all was forlorn and for-
saken.

■' Awfully slow, all thisi" said Miss Dane to herself, with a
fi^arful yawn. "I'll die of stagnation if this sort of thing
ki'cps on. !?il!itiana, howling in tho IMoated (u'ango, must
have felt a g<iod deal as I do just at j)rescnt — a tri lie worse,
maybe, for I don't wish I wore dead altogether. The Tombs
is gay and festive compared to Fifth Avenue on a rainy day.
I wish I were back i)laying Kanchon tho Cricket, free and
hajjpy once more, wearing s])angle3 as Ophelia of Denmark,
and a gilt juper crown as Cleopatra of ]''gypt. I wasn't
married then; and I didn't go mf>piug about, like an old hen
with tlie distemper, every time it was wet and nasty. If it
iuivps on liko this 1 shall have a pretty time of it getting to

THK INSKKN IiKIDKfJKOOM.

Ion

Fourteenth Street, at Uii u'doL-k to-iii;.'li(. Aii'l I'Jl ^:u!•(.■ly
j/,0, if it woro in ruin cals, (\o<rti, iinil pitclifoik.sl"

Slin ntt)i)(I (li<-,irily id llio ilnuvin^j-rooni wiiulow, 1<, '■.^;
forlornly out :it tli*- c'j]i|)'y .^trc, t.

'I'lio uorio tvvili;.lit was fullin;^', rain anil wiml
falling' witli it, the titrett hinij)s twinkling: ;;ho.stil_v

and
thi-Miuli

nsjn;;

tho murky j.'lnan)ii;ir, the pavcnu'iit hkick and shining. l!i-
lutcl ptiluritiiiin.H hnrrii'd alon.'^ with ho>vt'd huad.s and n|tliflc;l
und).cnarf, thu Htagca rattled past in a ccasdosd htreitni, I'idl i.>
ovcrllowin;,'. Tin.' rainy ni^dit wtis .s.-tlling doun, the t^toirii
incrfasinj,' a.-i the dai knuss oanic on. Moljie survcycil all tiiid
disconsolately enough.

" [ don't mind a dnckinf:," kIic mnrmnred, plainlivily,
" and 1 novi'r lake e.dd; but I don't want that man to see nie
Jooknig like a drort'iied r;it. Oh, if it shonl 1 turn out to ho
llni,di — dear, dear Ihijjih!'' Her faee lighltd rapturously at
the tlvought. " r never kn«\\' hou' much J loved him until I
h)6t him. If it inn't Hugh, and lliigh asks mo to run away
with liijn to-morrow, I'll do it — 1 declare I will — and the
others may go to grassl"

At that momeni voices sounded on the stairs— the voices of
Mrs. W'alravcn and her cousin.

The (lrawing-r<;nm door was ajar, Mollie't^ liltio (ignre hid-
den in the amber drapery of the windo'.v, and ^he could seo
Ihem ])lainly, without, herself being seen.

" "S'ou won't fail?" Mrs. Walraven said, impressively. " 1
will do my part. Are you Cjual to your.-?"

" I never fail where 1 mean to succeed," answered Dr. (!uy,
with c<|inil empiia.sis. " Sooner or later, I triimiphl 1 shall
trium()h now! ' AH things are ])Os.-iiblo t>» him who knows
how to wait.' I have waited, and this iiighc gives me my re-
ward."

The house door closed alter the young man. Mis. Wal-
raven j)eei)ed into the drawing-room, nevtr seeing the slender
figure amid tho voluminous golden damask, and then re-
ascended the stairs. Mollie was again in silence and solituile.

*' is'ow, what are those two up to, 1 should like to km>w?"
solihwjuized tiie young hidy. " Some jjiece rf atrocious mis-
chief, I'll bo bound! JIo h)oks hke the .Miltonic Luril'er
sometimes, that num, only not one half so good-looking; but
tht^re is a smikish, treacherous, cnid-blo-^led glare in his
greenish-bla(;k eyi'S that mak(M me think of tlio ari'h-tempter;
and some people have tho bad taste to ca!l him handsome."

Tho twilight had ended iu darknefis by this time, .llollio

Iu4

TliK UNSEEN BRIDEGUOOM.

" 1

put hor baud to hor bell to Hud hur wutoh, bit it was not
tberft

*' 1 haTo loft it on my dro~ in{j;-t!ibIo,'* bIio thi)ii<rbt, moving
away. " 1 will have n ( up of Uu in my rocuj lliis t-vt'iiing.
and let Riiurily and Muiliimo Hliiiu^be (iiiii) logt lliiT. 1 wish
it were time to start. 1 ul)oiniiial)lv buto wjiitiiif,'. "

Mollii) foiitul her wat«b ou the tal)I(', and was rather sur-
prised to see it past eight.

*' 1 Imd no idea it wm so Into," she i-aid to herHelf.
shall leave here at half past nine. There is nothing
keeping tryst in season '

She rang for Lucy, orilored a little supper in her room, and
then dismi •.sed the maid.

" I slii n't want you again to-night, Lucy," sbo said.
" You can go out, if you like, and see your mother,"

Lucy tri|)|)ed away, ri;iiit well pleased, and MoUio dawdled
the time over her isiipper and a book.

Ilnlf past nine came very soon.

** Time to get ready," thought Mdllio, starting tip.
" Dear, dear! it's highly romantic and highly sensational,
this nocturnal appointment with a masked man, and that
man one's mysterious iiusband. 1 can't say much for the
place; there's p-ecious little romance around the Maiaon
bort'e. Does it still rain, I wonder!'"

She opened the blind and looked out. Ves, it still rained;
jt still blew in long, shuddering gusts; the low-lying sky was
inky black; athwart the darkness Hashed the murky ttreofc
lamps.

Mollio dropped the curtain, with a little shiver.

" ' The niglit is coUl, and dark, and dreary,
It raiikj, and the wind is never weary.

It's a horrible night to be abroad, but I'll keep my word, if. I
drown for it!"

She hutited up the long water-proof mantle she had worn
the night of her abiluction, drew the hood far over her head
and face, wrapped it around hor, opened the window, and
resolutely stepped out on the piazza.

She paused an instant — a blinding rush of wind and rain
almost took her oft her feet; the next, the brave little heroine
was iiitting along the slippery piazza, down the stairs, out of
the wicket gate and into the black, shining street.

Asvay sped Mollie — swift as a little, wingless Mercury — •
down the avenue, through Utdon Square, to the place of tryst

She espected every moment to hear the city clocks chime

THE CNSKEN PRinEOROOM.

105

ten, but she rcnchecl Broailn'HV without hearing Ihcm. Little
wotulor, when it was but iiiilf (msL niiH\

Drenrhtul through, blown ab(jut, biciithlosH, panting, nimoat
gcart'd ut thf(irt'ar\ foriornJiesH of ilm dtv-'ortccl struots, iLo ad-
verjturoiis litllo (hiuisel reaiiht'd I ho phiiio of tryst.

Was she too 8oon? ISurcly not. i'hore stoi-d a nab, drawn
closo to the curbstone, and there, in the thad ' ' of tho cab,
stood a tall man in a cloak, eviilenfly wiii(ini>.

'J'hu hunpaof the carria;:e shone upon him, bu^. Iho cloak
collar was so turntHl up, the eloudud hut t^ii fiuiled down,
such a f|uantity of dark beard between, thd, noiluiig was vis-
ible of (i e face whatever.

Moiiie pauseil, altogether oxbausted; the man advanced a
step "ut of the shallow.

** White Mask?" he asked, in a cautious whisper.

" iilaok Ma.-kl" responded Mollie, proniptlv.

"All right, the

speaking rajiidly,
am

enl" rt'plicii tin- rnun, spei'king in French, and
" h s inipi>ssiliK' to stand here in the rain

talk. J have brought a carriage — let nie assi-tt you in."

But MolIie shrutik back. Some namelesa thrill of terror
suddenly made herdi "ad Iho man.

" You must— you must!" cried tho man, in an impetuous
whisper. '* Wo can not stand hero in this down-pour. ])on't
you sec it is impossible? And tho iiist [xdieema!! who comes
along will bo walking us oil to the slatio?i-hnuse."

lie caught her arm and half led her to tho carriage.
Sljrinking instinctively, ycit hardly knowing what to do, she
foun I herself in it, and seated, before she (lui.e knew it.

lie sprung after her, closed the door, tin.' carriage started at
once at a great pace, and tho poor little lly was fairly caught
in tho spider's web.

" 1 don't like this," eaid Mollie, decisively. " I had no
idi«i of entering a carriage when 1 appointed this meeting.
Where are you taking me to?"

'* There is no need to bo alarmed, pretty M. Hie," said the
man, still speaking French. " I have given the coHchman
orders to rattio along t'uough the streets. We cmi talk here
at oui' leisure, and as long as wo plea>e. You mil, pi'rceivo
the utter imi)08sibi|ity of conversation at a street coiuer and
in a down-pour of rain."

M')Ilie did, but she tidgetcd in hnr seat, ai'd fi It particularly
uncomfortable, all the same. J«ow that it wa^ too late, she
began to think she had acted unwieely in app duting this
meeting.

*' Why didn't 1 lot well enough alone?" thought tho young

loa

THE UNSKKN JIIIIDEGHOOM.

laoy. " At a tiistanco, it pcemcd the easiY'st thing in the
world; now tiuit 1 am in tlio man's })o\ver, 1 am afraid of him,
movii so than 1 over was bofori'. '"'

Tlu! man had taken hh seat beside her. At this juncturo
ho put iii:^ arm around hor waist.

'* Why can't we bo comfort^i^do and alTectionitio, n.s nnm
and wife shoidd — eh, Moilie? You iloji't know how mueh
obliged to yon 1 am for this intorvii'W. "

Tiiero was a ring of triumph in \m tone that Moliie cnulsl
not fail to perceive. Her In ;ir(, giive a great jump of terror,
but she angrily llung liersidt' out of his arm.

" Keep your dislaiicc, L-irl How dure you? You sing quite
a new song since I saw vou lasLl Hon't you lav a linger on
me, or VU—"

" What, pretty Cricket?" wi'.li a sardonic laugh.

Mollio caught her breath. That nsune, that tone — both
wore altogether new in the unknown man.

The somul of the voice, now that he spoke I'^reticji, was
quite uulike that of the man sho had coiuu to meet. And iie
was not wont to cull her Cricket.

Had sho made some horrible mistake — been caught in somo
dreadful traj)? ]'>ut, no; that was impossible.

" Look here, M"r. ]\raHk," said Moilie, tiercely, " 1 don't
want any of your familiarity, and I trust to your hotii'i- to w-
spect my unprotected situation. I a})poinietl this meeting b ■•<
cause you kej)t your word, and behaved with tolerable decency
when we last parted. 1 want to end this mutter. I want to
know who 3'ou are."

" My precious ]Vr,)lIie, your husband!"

" ])Ut who are you?"

" One of your rejected suitors."

" ])Ut which of them? — there were so many.**

" The one who loved you best."

" I'rihawl I don't want trillingi What is vour name?"

"Krnest."

" I never had a lover oi that name," said Moilie, decidedly.
" You are only mocking me. Are you — are you — Hii/^h
Ingelow?"

Her voice shook a little. The man by her aide noted it, and
burst into a dcjisive laugh.

"Youii.ro not JFugh Jugelowl" Mollio cried in a voice of
sharp, sudden puin — '* you ur(^ not!"

" An{i you ;ire sorry, pretty Moilie? W hy, that's odil, tool
He was a rcjec'ed lover, was he not?"

"Lot me outi" exclaimed the girl, frantically — '* let me

THE rXPKKN LlilDKOUOOM.

107

fo! I thouplifc you wore ITii^^li In^rpiow, or I never would
have comol Let i)i(M)',it! J>(.'L uio nuti"

8ho uuido a ruiih iiL the door, with a shrill cry of a-'Tright.
A Kiiddeii ])ani(! had t;eizi'<l jr-r — a horribit' dread »»!! the man
bcoidt) her — a sttiiinin^; seuso that it was not the man sho
lovfd.

Aj^ain that ^■tridc'^t lauLdi — nio(,d\i)ig, Ha'doni'% triiunpliant
— raii{jr through the carria^ije. Her arnia were caught and held
us i)i a vise.

" Not so fast, my fair one; there is no ef?capo: I can't live
without ynu, a?ul 1 see no reason why a man hlionld live with-
out his wife. You a])poiiited this meetiiig yourself, and I'm
excessively obliged to you. J am taking vdu to tli- sea-side to
i-pend the honey-moon. J)nirt strii;?. : > tn) — we'll return to
X'.Mv "^'orlc by and by. As for l[i!gii Ingelow, you )nus'tn't
think of him now; it isn't proper in a respcetabie married
wonuiii to know there is another man in tlie scheme of the
universe cxccjtt hi r husbar.d. JVloliiel Moliiel if you h 'ream
in that manner you'll compel me to resort to chloroform — u
vulgar alternative, my dearest."

I'»!it Mollie struggled like a mad tiling, and sereamed— wild,
ghrill, wo)niinly shrieks that rang out even above the rattlo
{Hid roll of the carriiigo' wIiblIs.

The man, with an oath, pla<'ed his hand tightly over her
mouth. They w^re going at a frightful jja'.e, and already the
city, with its liglus and jiassengors, was left far behirul. 1'hey
were Hying over a dark, wet road, anil the wind roared through
distant trees, and the rain fidl dovn like a second deluge.

" Let me go — let me go!" Moliie sirove maillv to cry, but
the tightening grasp of that largn hand sii' .at.ed her.

Tiio carriage seemed suddenly to reel, :i thousand lights
ila-hi'd before her eyes, a roar liK'-' the roar of numy waters
surged in her cars, a deathly siekness and coldness lirept over
lier, anJ with a gas]»ing sob she slipped back, fainting away
lor the first time in her life.

CIIAPTEi; XV.

Tlin; MAX IX TJIK MASK.

Dizzii-Y Mollie opened hvv oyea. Confused, bewildered,
she strove to sit up and eatili bet breath in broken gasps.

"So sorry, Mnllie," said an odious voice in her ear.
" ignite shocked, 1 am suie, to havo yo;i faint; but yon'vo not
b :en insensible half ;mi hour. It wasn't my fault, \on know.
You would scream, you would struggle, you would cxluuwl

KiB

THE UNSEEN BRIDEGROOM.

vouraelf ! And what is the consequence of all this excitement?
Wliv, you pop over in a dead swoon."

Moiiie raiscrj herself up, sLill dazed and confused. She put
her hfind to her forehead and strove to recall her drifting
senses.

They were gtill howling along at a sharp pace over a muddy
country road; stiil fell the ram; still howled the wind; stiil
pilch darlcneas vvrappad all witliout. Wore ihey going on for-
ever? VViis it a ri-alily or a horrible nif:hUuare?

" We are ahiiost at our journey's end," said the man,
soothingly. " (youio, cheer up. Cricket. I love you, aud I
v/on't hurt a hair of your heail."

" Where are we?" Mollie faintly asked.

" lla^ttliug over a beastly eouutiy road," answered her com-
panion, " under a sky a-; black as Erebus, and in a dowi>pour
that tlneatens a second Hood. 'J'liere'a the sea. We're down
* by the sad pca waves ' now, Moiiie."

Mollio listened. Above the roar of the elemental strife she
could hear the deep and mighty bass of the roaring sea.

" We will be there in ten minutes more," said the man,
brisklv.

" Where is there?" inquired Mollie, in the same faint ac-
cent.

" Home, my pretty wife — our cottage by the ana, and all
that, yon know. Don't droop, my charming Ciioket. We'll
be as happy together as the days are long. I love you with
all my soul — I swear it by all that's gowl and gracious; and
I'll make you the best husband ever bright-eyiid little girl
liad. Trust me, Mollie, and cheer up. Yoioks! Here we
are."

The carriage stopped with a jerk that precipitated Mollie
into her captor's arms; but, with an angry push, she was free
again diiet'Ll}'.

Thi^ muji opened the door and sprung out. Wind howling,
rain tuliing, trees surging, sea roaring, and a big dog barking,
made the bliu'k night hidfous.

" Djwti, Tigir! Down, ynn big, noisy brute!" cried the
man. *' Here, ^rdlic, lot. me lu'lp you out."

Thf're was no escape — Mollio k't him. The salt breath of
the sra bit^w in In r face — ils awful thunder on the sIicb
drowtu'd all less'M- noifitv'.

Through the b!a ■kn(\ss of the blac^k night she could see the
blacker onthne of a house, lr(itn one or two windovvo of wh'' h
faint lights shone. Tossing i.e. i surrounded il — a high board
fence and a tall, padlocked gate inclosed it.

THE UNSEEN BRIDEGROOM.

109

" All right, Mollie," the man Euid. " Thia is home!"

He drew h r arm v/ilLiii his and hurried her up o long,
graveled pc h, uruhT dri[)pirig, foSiinjj tiees.

The stoim ,i wii»d and n.in neu'ly buit the breatli out of
the giil'd body, aud she waa glad when the ahtlter of a great
front porch was gained.

" I hope you're not very wcfc, my little \vift>," said iho man;
" because I don't know as there ia a chiitigo of garnn lUc; in
this establishment that will fit you. However, as you will re-
tire directly, it dneyn't so much matter."

lie knocked with his knuckles a thundering rev( ille that
echoed and re-e(!hoed ghostily through the rumbling old houi-o.
In a moment there was a shuflling of footsteps inside, a
rattling of a chain, ami the noi.<y undriing of rusty bolts.

" Who's there?" a^ked a cracked old voice. " Is it the
young master?"

" Yes, you old idiotl Didn't 1 send yon word? Open the
door at once, and be hanged to you!"

A key turned gratingly in the ponderous lock — bolts and
chains fell, and the massive door swung back on creaky old
hinges.

" Like an ancient castle in a ptory book," thought Jlollie,
in the midst of her trouble. " Where in the wide world am
1? Oh, what an unfortunate littlu wretch I am! A stolen
princess couldn't bo abducted and imprisonoil (ftener."

The opening of the door showed a long, black, gloomy en-
trance hall — bare, bleak and draughty. Two peoj.'le stood
there — a grizzly old man, stooping, and bleared, and wrinkled,
who had opened the door, and a gri?;/.ly old wi>miin, jnnt a
shade less stooping, and bleared, and wrinkled, who held a
spnttering tallow candle aloft.

" How are you, Pete.? How are you, Sally?" said Mollie's
conductor, nodding familiarly to these two antedduvians.
*' la the room ready? Here's the lady."

lie drew Mollie, who«e arm he retaitjcd in a close grasp, a
little closer to him, and MoUie nolicid tbiit, for some reason,
tho ancient pair 8hrunk back, and hxiked as though they wore
a little afraid of her.

** The room's all ready," said the old woman, with a pair
of glittering little eyes lixcd, as if fa cinated, on Mollis'.s
pretty face. "Tho miosis and me's be(>n a-tidying of it all
day long. Poor creeterl so young and to pretty! What a
pity!"

'Phis last was soffo voce, but Mollie's Cjuick ear caught it.
bho looked up at hor conduct or, but cloak aud hat and whis-

110 XHE u>,«i:ujs ]ii:ii)i-;(ii;00M.

kers (li;-,t,niiHCtl him iU' oHcci utilly i.s flic; inn^k liiid donv <^n
other 0(.i;asions. Mh- looked iiuci^ iit l,h'.' ol I v.uiiiun arid IilM
ont lior su]iplit'al.inji; IkukIh.

'' yiy '^ood uouKui. \vho«vv(M* you iu'o, if yon hiivc i\ \\i,niiiu''ti
lioart, tiiku pity on inc. 1 have been bioti<,dit here iigaiiist
my will by this niiin."

" Ah, poor creetcr!" si^^hed the old wuniau, tliakiiij; Ii.t
grizzly old head; " arf if I didn't know that, i'oor lin!.'
crecter!"

" Help rnel" Millie cried. "Don't aid this man tokc(]i
me liore. I don't kno'.v whrt he is— 1 h-ue been wickedly en-
trapped. I am a liitlc l;u'[ik;-s girl, luit 1 have rirh and
powerful friends who \vi;l liberally reward you. Don't lulji
this bad, bold mati to ke' p me a prisuner here."

" Ah, poor eieelirl" j^iglnd the old w. man, plaintively, a
socor.d time; " only hear her talk now. And Btu.h a ]>retiv
little thing, tiol ].)iii-\ dear! It gees to one '.-j hen rt. i)on't
keep her t-taniliiig in tlictii wet elolhe.-:, f^ir. Ci^iio ujistair.s.
8iii'h a pity, siuh a pityl"

She hobbkd auav, muttering to liersolf aiul sl;akiiig her
head. The di-sguistd nmn laii^hcd — a losv, dcridiiig laugh.

" You siiO, my dear litiie Mollie, you'll get any amount ( '
pity, but nothing (.dse. Old Sally will be very .sincerely k.miv
for you, but she won't help you to eseafie. ()n tii;^ contrary
she'll keep you under look and key us failhfully as ihciigh yot;
were the K- h-i-noor. Cnmo in; you may take cold in this
nasty, draughty passage."

He drew her with him. ^rollie seemed in a sort of dreamy
swoon, and sveut ]j.i-sivi;ly. Thev ascended the stairs into
another dark and d.-aughly hall, l!r.iiki'd on cith(!r side by :i
eou[)le of doors. One of these the old dame ojiened, and cjuiLo
a Mew picture bui'st on Moliie's sight.

'.riio apartment wa^ not at all like the mvsterious padded
room of former exi)erience; the four bare walls were [dustercd
and blankly bare; the baiih^d iioor was htrewn with rags; the
two big scjuare windows were draped with ])aper blinds. A
huge iiro of logs, such as Mollie had never beheld in her life
before, roared gloriously in the old-fashioned iire-place, ai d
lighted the room with a lurid glow. A f air-p'ist btdhtcad,
the bed t;ovcred with a gaudy patch-work or eounterpani',
Kto>d in one corner, a tabh^ with a while clolii stood in an-
other, a chest of dreweiv in a thi d, and the door by whieh
they <'nlered in the fourth. 'I'his was Mollie's new prison.

" J'degj'.et simplicity,'' obsctvcd ;:jo man, Icaiing her in:
" but wo will do our best to m»ko you eomfortablo during

THE UNSEEN P.RTDEOROOr.

your sfay. It need not be long — you knn\r it depondo on
yourself. Mo] lie."

"Oil my^self?"'

She turned her pale fuce and angry eyes upon him.

" 1 iini your husband by a (>ecrct marriage, you know. Let
th'it niiirriai;*! bo solemnized over agfiin iti public — no ono
nwed know of the other: consent to bo my wife openly aTtd
above-board, and your prison doorrf will flv oiv.'U (hat hour.''

" In lleavi-n'ri name, who are you?" oried Mollie, im-
patiently. " Knd this ridiculous farce — remove that di'-gnise
— let me see who 1 am f^jieaking to. This melodramatic ab-
surilitv has gone on long enough — tlie play is played out.
Talk to me, face to face, like a man, if you darel"

llor eyes bla/.ed. her voic.-e rose. Tiie old woman looked
from one to the othtr, "far wilf*," but in evident eurio.'ity.
The man had persisted in speaking to her in French, and Mol-
lie Juid answered liim in that language.

" lie it as you fay I" cried her captor, suddenly; " only re-
member, ^.lollie, whether I am the person you prefer ''^ see
utuier this di'^guise or ?iot, I am ip^v.-rthelc^'s your hn^;bilnd as
fast as the lioverend liaymond Ka.-ideigh can tic the knot.
You shall know wlio I am, since it is only a question of to-
night or to-morrow at the m'>--t. Sally, you can go."'

Sally looked from one to the other with :iharp, suspicious
old eyes.

" Won't the young lady want me, sir? Is she "ble to 'tend
to herself?"

" (Juito able, Sally; she'^j not ?o bad as you think. Go
away, like a good soul. I have a soothing draught to admin-
''-•ter to my patient.' '

" Your pationtl" said Mollie, turning the Hashing light of
her great blue eyes full uj)on liim.

The man lau^lled.

" 1 iuid to invent a little fable for these good people.
Didn't you notice they looked rither afraid of you? Of course
you did. Well, niv dear Mollij, thev think vou're mad."

"Mad?"

" Exactly, ^'ou are, a little, you know. Tlun' thiid< you've
come here under medical orders t^ r.-iTuii by the sea-shore. I
told them so. One hates to tell lies, ijut, unfortunately, white
ones arc indispens.ible at times."

The blue eyes shout! fidi upon him, blazing with nuigniiicont
disdain.

" ^'ou are a poorer creature than even I took you to be, and
you have acted a mean and uast;irdly part from the first — the

112

THE UNSEEN BHIDECUOOM.

part of a soliomor and a coward. Pray, let me see the faoe of
cur nio.lcni Ivnitrlit of Roruiince. "

01 i Sally ha 1 linl)bli d from the room and Uiey stood alono,
half the width of the aftartmcnt between tli(ni.

" Hard words, my pretty onel You for[,'t.'t it was all for
love of yoii. I didii'l want to see you the wife of an old do-
tard vou tlidti't care a fillip for.*'

" So, to mend m.itlers, you've made me the wife of a
soonndrel. 1 must forever hale and despise — yourself."

" jS'ot so, Moll II' I I mean you to be very fond of mo one
of these davs, I dm\'t see why you shouldn't. I'm younj;;
I'm well oil'; I'm clever; I'm not bad-lonkin^'. There's no
reason why yon shoiildn't be very fond of m(% indeed. Love
be<:jet3 love, they say, and I love yitu to madness."

" So it appears. A lunatic asylum wouhl be the fitter place
for you, if yon must escape state prison. Are we to stand
here and bandy words all uight? Show me who you arc and

go."

The man laid his hand on his hat.

" Have you no suspicions, Mollie? Can't you meet me
half-way — can't y^a guess?"

" 1 don't want to guess."

She spoke defiantly; but her heart was going in great, suffo-
cating plimges against her side, now that the supreme moment
had come.

" Then, Mollie, behold your husband!"

With a th''atrical liourish he whipped off slouched hat, flow-
ing beard and wig, d''opped the disguising cloak, and stood
before her revealed — [)i: Guy Oleander!

She gave one gasping cry, no more. She stood looking at
I)im as if turning to stone, her face marble white — awfully
rigid — her eyes starting from their sockets. The man's face
wafj lighted with a sinister, triimiphant glow.

" Look long, Mollie," ho said, exultantly, " and look well.
You see your liut^band for the first time."

And then Mollie caught her gasping breath at the taunt,
and the blood rushed in a dark, red torrent of rage and shame
to her fair face.

" Kever!" slie cried, raising her arm aloft—" never, so help
mo Heaven! 1 will L.t in this prison and starve to death! 1
will throw myself out of yonder window into the black, boiling
Koa! I would bo torn to pieces by wild horses! I wdl die ten
thousand dea'hs^, but I will never, never, never bo wife of
yours, Guy Oleatider!"

Her voice rose to a shriek — hysterical, frenzied. For the

THE UNSEEN BRlDEfiROOM.

113

i)i3taut she felt as though she were going mad, and she looked
it, and the man recoiled before her.

" Mollie!" he gasped, in consternation.

The girl stamped lier foot on the floor.

" ])()u't call me Mollie;" she st'reamcd, passionatfly.
" Don't dare to sptak to me, to look at me, to rnme near me!
1 have heard of women imirdi.'riiig men, aii'l if 1 lurl a loaded
pistol this moment, (Jod help yon. Doctor Olearid' rl"

She lookoil like a nnid thing — like a ciazed pvllioiu'ss. }{or
wild, fair hair fell loOwse about her; her blue even blazed yteily
flame; her face was crimson wiiii the intensity of her rage, aiid
shame, and »le«pair, from forehead to rliin.

" Gol" she (iried, fiercely, " vou snake, you coward, you
felon, you abductor of feeble girN, you p ■! -inor! Yes, y(.u
poison the very air 1 breathe! (io, or, by all that ' Im-Iv, I
will spring at your throat and sirungle you wiih my bare
hands!"

" Good Heaven!" exclaimed the petrified dorfor, retreating
precipitately, " what a little devil it i-;! Mollie, Mollie, for
pity's sake — "

Another furious stamp, a ppring like a wild cat toward him,
and the aghast doctor was at the door.

" There, there, there, Mollie! I'm going. By Jove! what
a little fiend you are! I didn't think you would take it like
this. 1 — (Jreat powers! Yes, I'm going!"

lie flew out, closing the door with a bang. Then he opened
it an inch and peeped in.

" I'll come again to-morrow, Mollie. Try, for goodness'
sake, to calm yourself in the meantime. Yes, yes, yes, I'm
going!"

For, with a shriek of madness, she made a spring at him,
and the doiitor just mutnigod to slam the door and turn tiio
key before her little, wiry hands were upon his throat.

" Great Heaven!" Dr. Oleander cried to hims IT, pale and
aghast, wiping the cold perspiration oil' his fact'; " wns ever
such a mad creature born on the earth before? She looked
like a little yellow-haired demon, glaring upon me with those
blazing eyes. Little tiger-cat! I told them she was a raving
lunatic, and, by George! she's going to prove me a prophet.
It's enough to make a man's blood run cold."

114

TlfK L'NSEKN JHtlDEGUOOM.

C'Ily\PTEi; XVI.

il O L I, 1 K ' 8 J) IC S I' A I U .

Dr. Oi.eaxdku desijondcnl the .stiiiirf, passed lhroiij,'h the
lowtM'liall, and eiit'ercd th^ kitcthi'u — a bi^', square room, bleak
and draiij^liiy, likt! all thu rout of tliu old, rickety place, but
ligiitei.l bv il roarin*,' lire.

Old Sally was bustling about over pots and stew-pans, get-
ting ii-iip[i.'r; oM P.ti'r stooil at tlie labie peeling liotatooH.
Iti an arm-chair b'ifore the lire sat anotlier old woman with
sntikv-bla.'k eyes, hooked nose, and incipient black mustache.
V was volulily narrating what liud transpired up-
r, npun the entrance of her master.
Oleander, nodding to
the venerable |)ai'ty in the arm-chair. '" iSally's telling you

Old Sa
.stairs, and cut herself slnx

"How are you, mother?" said i)r
venerable [)ai'ty in the arm-chair
about my patient, is she?"

His mother's answer wa.i
echoed.

"Well, what now?" demanil*'il tlie doctor.

" You look like a gliosti (Iraciuus me, Oiuyl" cried liis
in consternation; "you're whiter than the table-

a stifled scream, whicli 8ally

molher,
cloth."

J)r. Oleander ground tuit an oath.

" 1 dare sav J am. I've just had a scare from that littli

blanch any man. 1 thought, in my

spring u])on mn like a panther and

have, too, by Jove, if 1 hadn't cleartil

crazy imp that would
soul, she wa-! going to
choko me. She would
out."

" Lor' I" cried Sally, in consternation, " and I've just been
a-telling iho ruissis how sweet, aMtl gentle, and innocent, and
})rot.ty she looked. "

" Innocent and gentle bo — iiangcdl" growled the doctor.
" She's the oM Satan in ft lualo form. If you don't look out,
Sally, siij'll throttle you to-morrow when you go in."

Sally gave a little yelp of dismay.

" Lor' a massy, Master Ouy! then I'll not go near her. 1
ain't a-going to be scared out of my senses by mad-women in
my old agt.'. I won't go into her room a step to-morrow,
Master Guy. If you wants to turn lionest j)0ople's houses into
lunatic asylums, then get lunatic-keepers to see arter them.
1 sha'n't do it, and so i tell you."

With which short and t !)arp ultimatum Sally began vigor-
ously laying the cloth for i:uppor.

Till: UXSEEX jntlDKGltOUM.

IVi

Sully

Boforo Dr. Olcaniler couKl open lii.s m )iuU t'> fxpodtuluto,
liis inoliitM' sli-nck in:

" [ nvilly iloii't ihiiik it,'s safe to livo in (liu lif>uso wiUi
such a vi(;K'iiL lnn;it,i", (!iiy. I wish you liail taken your crazy
jialii'iifc else where."

"Oil, it's all rifrht, mr-fliur. .She's only subject to thoso
m)isy lilH at periodi -al tinns. On CL'rtnin occasi.inrt she ap-
pear anil talks as sanelv »,s you or I. Sally can tell yon.''

" That I can," Puid hal'ly. " You'd oughttT hecrd lior,
mi.s.sis, when she fust i anu! in, a-pl a'ling, you knon-, with iu'J
to usriirft her, and not lit.'lp to keep her a prisoner here. 1 il(!-
clare, it (jnitu went to n»y heart. And she hjoLed so liltio,
nnd ao young, and so helpless', poor creatnrel"

" '^'oii'ro siiio her room '(3 all safe and .secure, Sally — win-
dows and all?"

■' Sire a3 sure, master. Jack the (iiant Iviller couldn't re-
move them 'ere bars, "

■' l)e(!au-<e," Baid Dr. Oleander, " she is qnito eapal)Ie, in
Ikm' mad lits, of prceifiialing liertelf out of ibo window and
bieakin'jf \u',r neck. Ami be curefid, S:d!y. you cut wp her
fond when you take it to her. J)uu't bring ber any kni\ed or
forks."

" 1 saiil T woiddn't go near h r," yaid old Sally, facing him
ropolntely; "and I W'.i'tl And whiiCrf more, IVter won't!
And if you fetches nnid-women here, J)oelor (liiy, you've got
to 'tend onto 'em yr)u::eir, sir. J vvnn't be. 'safsynated in my
old age by crazy huialicrf; and no mure my oM man won't,
neither. There no'.vl"'

Sally finished with a i^liowcr of resolute noils. Dr. Olcaiuler
knew iier a great deal too well to remoni-! late. V\'iien Sally
" put her foot down " all the i*u\verd of tarih a:ul Jladcs
couldn't [)iifc it up ag;*in.

"Yon will bo here yourself to-morrow. Oiiv,'' f-aid his
mother, dei-isively. " Wait upon her yoursiiif, then."

" 15ut I must return to N( w York to-inorrou- aflcrnoon."

" Very well; get an atteiutant l'>r your crazy patient and
send her down. If th;- young la ly's friends are as •'•eallhy as
you Hiiy, they will surelv let lier have a kee|)er."

" They will let her have a dozen if necessary; that is not
the fpiestion."

" What, then?"

" Have you aceemmonaticn for another in this old barn?
Can y 'U put up with the trouble?"

" We'll cimIi avor lo da so f.'i- veur piike. It is easier to put
up with another persion iu the hou:.e than bo ut t'le beck uud

116

THE unki;i;n iu:n)i:(iKOOM.

cull o( a hinalio oursolvos. Send ono from Xew York capable
of liikin;:^ euro (^f your cruzy young lady, uud {Siilly and I will
take caro of her."

*' TliankH! And moaiitime?"

'* Mtaiilinic, I will wail ii[)on her myself — if you will assure
me she will iidL be violent.'"

'' 1 think 1 can. She is only violent with mo, poor soul.
She has got an idea into her weak, deranged little iiead that
Blie io as sunt! as you or 1, and that I have carried h(.r otf by
force and kei p hir prisoner here. tShe goes raving luad at
sight of me. but with you she may probably be cool enough.
Slie will ti'll you a pituous sfnry of how hhe luis bc3n entrapped
and carried oil from h'^mts if you will listen to her. You had
belter no' ; it only encourages her unfortunate delupion."

Mrs. (Jiiander fehriigg'd h;'r broad f^houlders. She was an
old woman of strong mind and iron resolution, and nothing in
the way of heart lo Fpeak of. Jlcr accoiu])lished sou took
aflor hiir in tlu'se a'lmirable (luulilies.

" I have olh r ildi to Try than listening to the emjjty babble
of a miiniai'. l\y ihe bye, what did you say her name was?"

" Miss Dane,"' re^;})ond^■d the doi;tor, after a slight pause.

lie knew he migiit as well tell the truth about it, or Mollit»
herself would for him.

" And she is a relative of Blanche's husband?"

"A very near though unacknowledged relation. And

now, mother mine, I'll take my supjier and turn in if you'll

permit me. I've had a very long and fatiguing drive this

Btormy night."

He f-at down to the table and fell to work with an appetite.

Old Sally waited upon him, and gazed at hia performance with

admiring eyes.

" Won't your young lady want something, Ciuy?" his
mi'>ther asked, ptesenlly.

" Let her fast a little," replied the doctor, coolly; " it will
take some of I he unnecessary heat out of her blood. I'll fetch
her her breakfast to-morrow."

Mr.-'. Oleander upon this retired at once, and the do i.or,
after smoking old Peter's pipe iu the chimney-corner, retaxd
also.

Then the old man hobbled upstairs to bed, and Sally, after
raking out the lire, and seeing lo the secure fastening of doors
and window-:, took up her tallow candle and wcni after him.

Outside the door of the poor little captive she paused, listen-
ing in a Bort of breathless awe. But no sound came forth-'

tut; IKSFFN BRIDKHROOM.

117

i\w tumult of wind, ami sea, and rain liail (ho inky night ail
to tilt m.solvcH.

" Slio's a-ihcp, I reck'in," Paul oh\ Sullv, creeping; away,
" Po'.r lit lie. |.ntty croittr:"

lint M 'lliL' was nut ask' p. Vt'Iicn Iho dnnr ha] doffd after
Dr. Olruinicr, Aw. hail dnpped on iho llooi like a j-toue, and
lia 1 nuver slirre.l kIiici'.

Shr> win iiol: in a fainK She -"nw the ruldy blaze of the fire,
as thti toii/^MK.'s of llanio leaped liivo rod soiponts up the cliiin-
)i('y; she luard the wil 1 howlincj of the niudit wind, l,ho cease-
less da-h and fidl of the rain, the ind'MTihahle rf^ar of (he
ra;,dng S'a; .she hoard (ho trees crnik arid tons and {.'foan; n\\o
lieard tho ra(3 8(!iin'ipering overhead; she heard the dismal
iHoanln;^ of th:- eld UmiAtj iiscdf roekinf: in th.- ,u:ale.

8lie saw, i-:he h'-aid, hut asi one who neither seec< nor hears;
like one in a driiiri^ed, unnatural ttujior. Hiit^ citnl;! not
thiidv; an irr.'n haiui seem' d t) have (lulchcd her heart, a
dreadfid d'spair (o have taken pos.-'i 8'^i.)n of h; r. Shu had
mule a hornhio, irre[)araldo mistake; she was holy and soul
in the po.ver of 'ho man siie hatul most on carih. .She was
his wii'el — she could ^'et no further tlian (hat.

Tlie stormy niijjiit wt.re on; mi.liiij:ht came and the elo-
mcntal uprcar was at its heiirht. Slill ^he lay there all in a
hea[». sulUrir.g in a dulled, iniserahle way that was wovs^^ than
slia>'i'e.-t jiaiii. She lay there sLunneu, overwiulmed, not
caring if she ever rose again.

And 8.) morning found her — when morinng Ifled a didl und
leaden eye over the st;)rra\' s( a. It eamo giotiuiy and gray,
rain falling still, wind whisjiering pitifidly, and a sky of lead
frowning di)wn upon tho drenched, dank eaiih and tossing,
angry ocean.

All ill a heap, as she had fallen, Mollie lay, her head resting
on a I'hair, her ^JOor golden ringlets tosst d in a wiM, disheveled
vi:il, fast asleep. Pitifully, as sleep will come to tlio young,
ho their troubles ever so heavy, sleep had sealed those beaming
blue eye^. "not used to tears at ni'_dit instead of siumber. "'
'I'ears, .\r.">llio had shed none — the blow that had fallen had
left her far beyond that.

Nine o'clook struck; there was a tap at the prison door.
l*r. ()lea!ider, thinking his pa ,\;n<,'s far: had lasted long
tnougli, wai! coming with u bountif(d brei'.kfast. There was
no repl\ to tlie tap.

"M.dli'," (ho doctor called, gently, "it is I with your
breakfast. I am coming in."

118

TTfF UXRFEX r.r.iDFonooM.

Slill 110 rospoiisc. Ho turned the key iti tli-^ lock, opcnctl
the «lo')f uml ontered.

Wlmfc liL! had oxpoc'l(\1, Dr. OIc'IImUt did not know; ho was
inn littlo tremor :ill <ivu-. W'liut Iiy i-iiw \v;is hid jioi.r liiLlo
priaonor (Toiu'hed on tin! Ihor, lior fiii-e falhsn on a chair, hiilt
hidden hy the shov,-i:i' (,f ftn;!)i'.)- cuvU, sl':('[)ini( like u verv hid)';.

The liurdcncd luiin Ciui;;lit hi,? hrciiHi; it was h wigliL lo
touch any liHirt; jjorlitips it evoii found iti wi\y to his.

lie stood aT)d look'. 1 nt iior u niotnont, his oves getting hu-
mid, and .-^ofLly set down hits tmy.

'• ' Tho Sleojiinu' Heauly,' " ho sai-l. unihM* his hroath.
"What an i'x<|insii,! piilmo she makv.-;! iMy ]>oor little,
pretty little .MullicI''

III! had niado scarcely any noi>?o; ho stood gazing at her
spcU-boiinl; but that very gaze awoke h^'r.

.She IhiUcrcd like a bird in ita iic^t, luiirniund indistinctly,
hor eveliils (juiveiod a Ktcond, then the blue eyes op'.'ned wide,
and diruclly ishe was v/i'lu au'akc.

*' (I'uod-n.'^rning, IdoUJc," said the doctor
awoko yo'.i, and you wcro shcpiiig
no idea lue.v lively you look asleep,
fortabhi pli'.(!o, my ikar one. Vv'h;
u rpasoiud>le beinji?"

jMoilic ro.su slortly and ga(iif3rcd away hur fallen hair from
lier f ace. Her cheeks were JliiMhed pink with skc}), hor cyi;s
were calm and steadfaib, full or invincible icsolution. Sho
sat down in the chair she had u:-=cd fur a pillow, and looked at
him stia.lily.

" You may take that away, 1 uctor Oleander," she said-
'* I will neither eat nor dritdc under this loof."

"Oh, nonsen.se, Molliel" said thn d'Mtor, in no way
alarmed by this threat; " yes, you will. Look at this but-
tered toa:5t, at these eggs, at this ham, at these })reserves,
raspberry jam. Mollie — * sweets to the sweet,' you know —
look at llieni and you'll thiuiv bel'tcr of it."

She tnrticd her back upon him in bitter dit'dain.

" MoUie," the do(;tor raid, beseech ingly^, "don't be so ob-
stinately set against mo. Yon weren't, you know, until I re-
moved my disguiri,\ I'm no worse now than 1 was before."

" I never thought it was you," iMoIlio said, in a voice of
still dccspair.

" Oh, ycH, you did. You dreaded it was me — you hoped it
was that ])U[)])y, Ingelow, ooi\foimd himi Why, Mollie, he
doesn't care for you one tithe of what T do, {See what I have

I'm afraid I
111 <' an angel. \t>u liavo
init oueh a very uncom-
di In't you go to bed liko

THR I'NSKKN inmiKOKOO.Nf.

II!)

0(1

lior

risl\((l fur you — irjiutiiLion, liberty, evcrytliirif^ tliut luuii holiis
(I I ■;»!•. "

"Ami yi'ii ;;li;ill l(».u! Ihiin y(t,"M<'!!Io eaicl, bt'lweeii li. r

cilliclll'll iClUl.

" I Iiavo Tiiiulc diysclf ii f(l(;ii to obtulri you, Mnllii>, 1 jijvo
V'Mi bt.'UiM' lliiin iMy.-ilf — tb;iii aTiyMiiii;„' in tliu world. \'<iii
;.ro my vviff — bo my \:\>'\ and for^'ivo iin'. "

" Nevcrl*' uri'.'il Mollic. iiaHsioiuitcIv, nii ^in^r lior arm u'^l't
will) a gCftiiro wifitliv rif ISiiidori.s or l.';'tori: '* jkhv I m vcr bi-
f(>r<^'iv(Mi wlkii I ili" if 1 Mi'I 1 coidd kill yon tiii* nmianit, in
J Wdiild a r.it, ii' I Imij ir i'l my {lowLr. and willi a-' bifli' n.ni-
prHuitioii. J litito you — I biuu yii — I b du yuiil lluiv 1 lialu
yon words an; too po( r ami weak to ti 11!"*

** Of ('onr.stt," raid thu dactor, wiih inilii.blo eidin: " ii.'rf
iH'rfictly iial.ii'al jn.--,t niuv. I'tit von"Jl ;: '.. ovi'r i^ M'dlic,
L(.diov(i nie yon will, and bkf ni'.' all tin' bi tier by and I'V. "

" Will yon '^'>y ^'ail! Moiiic. ju-r oyis bi\^';innini,' to biaxi-.

" J^isli'ii to me lirat," raid tlu' doi'i(n', carni'stly. '* Li.steti
to me, I im|iloro you, Molliol I havo taken a danjieroiis step
in fctchiinj; yon Ihto — in (narnin;^ yon a-; 1 did; my vi-iy life
is at slake. l)o yon tliink I will i^rick at trilJL'.s lunv? .\o.
Ton must either retnrn to Nnv "hOik as my wife, (peniy
afdvnowled;;inj^ yonr.-:eir snuli, or — never return. Wait — wait,
Mollie! J)()n't interrnjM. "^'ou af,> altoj^'etlier in my power.
If you were hidden in a diuii'eon of the Fremh Tastiie yon
oonld ii'tt bi' more fie(Uiro or .suelmled tlniu here. 'I'liere ix no
hon-e within iivi' miles; Hu're 's tiiL- \\iU\ sea, liie wild wo-ids,
a streteh of Hat, barren, mariihy .'ea-tioast — nolhiii<^' more. No
one ever eumi.'S hero by water or !a!id. There aro ir.m lai.s
to thuse windows, un<l the windo'.vs afe iilLiiti fci-t from the
ground. The people in this housu think you nuid — the more
yini tell them to the contrary the less thev will belie\e ytni.
In Xew York they have not the slightest elaw to your whe'e-
abonts. You vani.~hcd oneu before and came back — they will
set tills down tis u .-imilar triek. and net trouble themselves
about yon. "^'on are mine, ."Mo'lie, mine — initio! There is no
ultcuMiativo in the wide earth."

Dr. Oleander's I'aoe liushed with triumph, his voieo rang
out exulliint.ly, his form seemed to tower with victory, his eyes
Hushed like bmning coals. Jle made one step toward her.

" Mine, .MoMie; miite yon have been, mine you will be for
life. 'JMie gotls have willed it so, Mollie — my wife!*'

Another st.ep nearer, triumphant, \ietoriuus, then Molli*'
lifted her iirm with a cjuuonly gocsture and uttered one word:

" tttop!"

1:^0

THE IKSEEN' BJIIDEGUOOM.

She was standing by the mantel, druwn up to hor fuU
heiglit, iier fucc whiLcr than suovv, rigid as maiblo, but; the
blue eyes bhizing blue f'uiLa.

" Bark, DiH'ioi- OiL-aiuleil Not one step nOiiror if you value
your jifel" Sh(; put hvv hand in her bod 'Ui and drew uut a
glittering phiylhing — a curiouH dagger of foreign workmaiiKship
she had oneo t;»kcn from Carl Wulfaven. " lief ore I lt;fh
home, Dootor Oli-andtM*, I took this. 1 did not expect to have
to use it, but I look it. Look at it; see its bine, koen glitter.
It is a pretty littlo ti^y, but it ])i'oves you a I'altu boaster and a
liar! It, itavcs mc on(^ alterinitivc — death!"

"Mollie! For (iod's sake!"

There was that in the girl's white, rigid face that frightened
the strong man. lie recoiled and looked at the littlo llashing
serpent witli horror.

" I have listcMied to yon, l)octr>r (luy Oleander," gaid Mollie
Dane, sinwlv, solemnly; " now listen to me. All you t-'ay may
be true, but youis I never will be — never, never, never! Be-
fore you can lay one llng'.'r on me this knife can reach my
heart or yours. I don't niiieh care v.'iuch, but yours if I can.
If I am your wife, as vou say, the sooner I am dead the bet-
ter."

" Mollio. for Heaven's sake—"

But Mollie, like a tiagedy queen, waved her hand and in-
terrupted him:

'• They say life is sweet — 1 suppose it is — but if 1 am your
wife 1 have no desire to live, unless, indeed, to bo revtaiged on
you. Tut a dose of arsenii; in yonder cotree-cup and give me
the draught. I will drink it."

Dv. Oleander " grinned horribly a ghastly smile."

I had nuuh rather give you a love-philter, Mollie," Ik

said, recovering from his iirst scare.

Unhiippilv, the aa"e of

love-philters seems to have passed. And now I will have you
lor the p I'Seiit— -time v\i!! work wondeis, 1 think. I mutt p:o
back to Xew York; no one. mil 4 sus[)eet I have left it for an
hour. I win return in a day or two, and by that lime I trufit
you will no longer be in suidi a reckless frame of mind. 1
don't want you to die by any means; you are a great deal tor*
pretty and pitpiaut, and I l'*ve you far too well. Good-bye,
my spirited lilMe wifi , fi/r a couple of days."

He bowed low and h'ft the r(>"m, locking the door carc-
fidly. And when he was gone Mollie drooped at once, lean-
ing Hgainst the mantel, Male ami trembling, her bauds o.er
her face — abno with her aespair.

THE UNSEEN IIRIDEGROOM.

lay
can.
bet-

CHAPTER XVII.

5ITHIAM TO THE IM-SCUE.

An artist stood in liis st mlio, overlooking busy, bright Urood-
way. ihi stond befiire his eiist-l, fra/.ntg in a sort of raptmo
fit his own wnvk. It wan oidy a i^ki't( h, n sketch worlhy of a
master, and its nam" \va,s " Th(! IJo-e IW fore It Bloomed."
A gii'l's briglii, sweet face, hioking out of a golihMi aureole of
wild, loo«e iiair; a pair of Iif|uid, starrv, aziiie eye.s; a mouth
like a nsebiid, half pouting, half smiling. An exrjuisite faoo
— rosy, dimpled, youliiful as Hebe's own — the radiant face of
Mdllie Dane.

'i'he dav wh3 near its c]o:-o, and was dying in regal Bplondor.
All dav the dark, drea-^y rain had failir) wearily, ceaselessly;
but just as twilight, ghostly and griiy, was creeping tip from
the horizon, there had Hashed out a sudden sunbur^^t of inde-
scribable glory.

The heavens seemed to open, and a glimpse of paradise to
show, so grand and glorious wiis the orillaiiiuie of crimson and
purple and orange and gold that transfigin-ed the whole tirma-
ment.

A lurid light filled the studio, and turned tlie floating yellow
liair of the picture to living, burnished rip[iU"? of gold.

" It is Alullie — livinp, breathing, lovely iMoilie!" tho ai'tist
said to hini-ii'lf in suihli'U exidtulion — " beaiitifiil, buwildiing
MollicI Fit to sit by a king's side and wear his crown. (Jome
in!"

l-'or a tap at the studio door suddenly brour^dit our enthusi-
astic artist back to earth. He Hung a cloth over the sketcii,
and leanel gra'efully against the ciis'd.

The liguie that entered somewhat disturbed the young
man's constitutiotial {)hlegm — it was so uidike his usual run
of visitors — a rt-markaMe ligure, tall, gau!\t, and b'lny, clad
in wretched garb; a haggard, powerful face, weather-beaten
and brown, and two biiizing biaiik eyes.

The artist opened his own })andsomo orbs to their widest
oxterit.

" J wish to so ivlr. Hugh Ingclow,'' said this singular
wnnnui in n de f> h;iss voieo.

" I am Hugh [ngi'low, madani;\ at your service."

The woman fixed !ier buiiiing eyes on tho calm, serenely
handsome face. TL'j lazy hazel eyes of tho artist mot hers
coolly, unflinchingly.

i;?2

THE UNSEEN" IJRIDEnROOM.

" ] nwivt j'onr pleasure, maflame. Will you enter and sit
down!-""

'I'he woni:iii came in, clcsed tlie door ciuitioiusly after lior,
but declined the jirolTered c^eat.

" To what am 1 indebted for the honor of this visit?" ft.^kcd
the artist, quietlv. " I have not tiie phtasure of kiiowin;:^
you."

" 1 am ]\rollie Dane's aunt."

" Ah, indeevil" and I^Ir. iru;,rh Jnjrelow lifrlited up, for the
first time, with sonjelhin^' like hiinum intenst. " Ves, yes;
I remember you now. You ouino to Mr. Carl Walraven's
weiklin!' and irave us a little loiii h of iiiuh traireiJy. J'rav
gir, dou'ii. ami tell me what f can do for yuu."

" I don't want to sit. I want vou to answer me a qnes'
tion. "

'' One hundred, if you like."

" J)o you know where Mnllic Dare is?"

" Kot" exactly," taid Mr. Jn>',' low, coolly. "I'm 7iot
blessed, unfortunatuly, with the j:dt of the fairy jirincc in tho
child's tale. ] can't sec my friends throu;di walls of stono
and mortar; but 1 take it she is at the jtalutial mansion up-
towii "'

"Sh." is not!"

" Ell?"

" She is noti" reiterated M'riani. " I have just been
there. They are in t!ie utmo>t ah'.rm and distress — at ]e;ist,
Mr. Walraven aiipears to be. iMollie has again disa})peared."

" J'.y J.'iV' I" cried ^Ir. IiifX'dow. in dismay.

" She left the house late last ni<fht. One of the servants, it
:^;)pears, saw her p;o, and she lias never been heani of or seen
tiince."

*' By .lovel" for the second time exclaimed Ifu^di Inf,'elov,'.

" li is supposed that she has met with foul play — been in-
veigled away from home, and is in tlio i)avver of a villain."

'* Well," said .Mr. Iri^ndow, dniwin^' a long breath, "]i[is =
Dane has tlu; j^rcati'st kmudv of eausing sen.^alions d any lady
1 ever knew. I'ray, are you aware this is the .'-eeoid time
till !i a thing iia.i hapiK'md?"

" J am (luite awaiu of it. Alsa, tliat slie \vi. nt {:gainid, her
will."

" Indeed I Heing so ne;i,r a relativ(!, it is natural you jiiould
be posted. And now, may I beg to know,'' t^aid tho young
man, with cool politeness, " why you do me the honor to come
and inform mo?"

THE UN.-ET-N' ]!];T^Ff;^.On^r.

vrs

hv.v

Miiiam looked at liim vith her esigle ^lanco — keen, siile-
long, scaifhiiip;. Mr. liipii'loiv nmov. her a -slight bow.

" Well, niiihimei-"' .'■•iniliiif^ ciirelessly.

" Do you not know?"'

" ly" — a b'oad Hare. " Ijcally, nuulame, f am at a loss —
How shouM 1 know?"

*' DiJ yon not jiieet iVIollie last night at the eorncr of
Broadway ami Fonrtcnith Street?"

" xMo!-t cei'lainly nol."'

** \Vh(;ro were you at teji o'clock last evening?"

Again Mr. Ingelow .sniileil.

" Jiciilly, a iiikii.g enrfs-exatniiiation. ]*erniit me to de-
cline answeriiiL!' that (ineslion."

" And you know notiiing of .Moiiie's previous disappearance
— of that myslv riiMn J'o)'tnight?"

" I\Iy good wonia!), he reari/'nable. I'm nrt an astrologer,
nor a wizuid, n -r y.t a chi'rvoyant. I'm not in .^^i^s Dane's
coniiii'.ni';'. I [)nt it (o yourself — how should 1 know?"

" Von rflinfile — yoii e<jHivooal-eI" cried Miriam, im)).'i,tiently.
" Why uo\i'i yo'.i iinswi;r at once — yos or no?"

'' .\iy li' ar liiuy," wiiji a diprocating wave of his shapely
hami, "don't be so druadfully blunt. Prav tell nie of what
yoa atousi' me— of forcibly abil acting Miss Dane hirt idglit at
ten o'clock? Willi my hand on my heart, mailame, on the
word ill a man and l)roihcr— on the honor of an artidt — I
.^'jh'tnnlv as.~-''Veralo I didn't <lo itl"

Miriam gioaned.

" 'I'hen what ha:^ bcoomo of lind. unfortunate child? '3he
thouu'ht it wa.-i yon, or slui never wonlil have gone."

'i'iio fair, relined faoo of tlie artist Hushed deep red, and he
was grave in an indaid.

" Madam'-, what do yon t:iy?"

"()h, you kniiwl" criid the woman, vehemcidly. " ^'ou
surely know, else all you men are blinder than bats. You
know she loved you well."

" Oh, madamel"

Tilt) young man ("amdit his bi( .ith.

'* She told me so h rs;!f," criitl Miriuin, reeklesslv hctray-
iiv: this, and wringing hei- hun.l ; " and she went last night,
li.'ping it was you."

'I'liu momentary e.vpression of raptiu'e had quite faded out
of Mr. Jngelow's fiiee by th's time, and, leaning against his
easel, ho was listening with cool atteniion. I'lit if .Miriam
cold I have known how this unin'cJ in art was plunging agaiuo'
His ribs!

124

THK UNSEEN nniDFIGUOOM.

" I think there is a mistake sonieivhere," said Hugh, with
sang-frtiirL " Mi-s Dune ri'fnseil me."

"iiuhl" saiil Miriam, with infinite smni; " mm h you
know of women, to lalie that, f tr a tt'8t! I!ut it isn't, i.) iaik
of lovp I camo h(!"f. 1 am iialf ilistracti'il. 'I'li,' ( hilii has
met; with foul p'a'' ^ '^"' tJuiiain, since yn\ are hi'i-e. "

" Will yon hiivi.' i.lu' an 'tin. ss to explain, luy irood wrnian,"
said Mr. Inuel.-'.\', beseechingly. " CunoiJcr, 1 am all in the
dark."

" And I cnn not enlighten von witliont telling yon the
whole story, and if yon are not the hero of it, I havf; ii* right,
and no wish, *o do that. One fjiierition I will ask yon," iixin/;
her powerful ';yes on his faeo: " i)oyon still love Mojlie JJane?"

Mr. Ingelow smiled serene lu the snnset t;ky ()iit.<i(]e.

" A point-blank ([ueslioii. Forgive mo if 1 deeiuie answei-
ing it.'

Miriam's eves flashed fire.

" You never eared for her!" she said, in (loree impatience.
'* Yoa are i poltroon and a earpet-kniglit, like the rest — ready
with plenty of fine words, and nothing else! Yon asked her
to marry you, and you don't care whether she is living or
dead!"

" Why should I?" said Mr. Ingelow, coolly. " She refused
to marry mo. "

" And with a Highly girl's refusal your profotnid, and
lasting, and all-enduru:g luve dies out, like a di[)-oaiidle nnder
an extin,^uisher! Oh, you are idl alike— all alike! Selfish,
and mean, and cruel, and false, and llcklo to the very heart's
core!"

" Ha 'd words," said Mr. Tngelow, with infinite calm.
" You make sweeping assertions, madame, bnt there is just a
possibil ty of your being mistaken, after all."

" VA'ords, words, words!" Miiiara cried, bitterly. " Words
in plen ,y, but no actions! I wi.di my tongue had been palsied
ere I uitored what i have uttered wiihin this h ur!"

" Mj' dear madame, softly, softly! i'lay, pray do not he so
impetu)us! Don't jump at sueli frantic conehisionsl I assure
you, m/ words are not empty sound. 1 mean 'em, every one.
I'll do mything in reason for yon or yonr charming ?iiece. "

"In reason!" said the woman, with a scornful laugh.
" Oh, 10 donbt! You'll take exceeding g' od care (o bo calm
and rersonable, and weigh the pros and cons, and not get
yoursell into trouble to deliver ihe girl you wanted to raaiTy
the oth(^r day from captivity — fri»m dcat,h, perhap?! She ro-
fused you, and that is (juite sulhcient."

THE UNSEEN liRIl'EfiKOOM.

125

I'm
Tell

"Now. novvl" cried Mr. Irgtlow. appealing to tho lour
walls in dt- iieiution. " Ditl over uioiial man bear the like of
thib? Cuptiviiy — dralhl ily ^ood woman — my dear lady —
Olin't you draw it a littie mildfcr? Is not this New York City?
And are we not in thu year of grace eighteen hundred and
ninety? Pray, d( n't go back to the Dark Ages, when loverH
went clad in clanking puits of mail, and forcibly «'arried olV
brides from tlie altar, under the priLbt's very nose, a la Young
Locbinvar. iJo be reasonable, ibere's a good soul!"

Miriam turned her back upon him in 8iiperb dirfdain.

" And this is the man Moliie pn feriedl This is the man 1
thought would help mel Mr. Hugh lugelow, I wish you
good -evening."

" Ko, no!" exclaimed Mr, Irgtiow, starting up. " Not
yet! Open the my.stt ries a littji before you depart,
willing and ready to aid you to the best of my ability,
me what I'm to do, and I'll do it."

" I have nothing tc tell," Miriam said, steadfastly,
will not put you to the trouljle di helping me."

"But you muot!" cried the artist, suddenly transforming
himself into u new man. " if Moliie Dane is really in dan-
ger, then 1 must know, and ail her. No one has a better
right, for no one on earth loves ber as well as I do."

" lla!" exilaimcd Miriam. st(jiping short. "We have it
at lasi, have we? You love lier, then?"

" With all my heart, and mind, and strength: as 1 never
have loved, and inner wid h.'ve, any other earthly creature.
Now, then, sit down here and tell me, from liist to last, what
you came here to tell."

He wheeled forward a (hair, took tho woman by both
shoulders, and compelled her to bu cijafed. His face was very
pale, his eyes alight, his statuesque mouth stern, and set, and
j)oweiful.

Miriam looked at liim with dawning admiration and respect
Tho man that makes them obey is the man women are pretty
safe to adore.

" Now, then," he said — " now, Madame Miriam, I want
you to begin at the begimiitig and lell me alL If Moliie Dane
is above ground, I will find ber."

The woman looked up in hi-' handsome fare, locked in grim,
intlexible ririolution — an iron face now — and iilaxed.

" Moliie was not dec ived in you, after all. I am glad of
it. I like you. I would give a year of my life to see you
safely her hu.sband."

" Many thanks! Pity she is not of the same miudi"

2-^6

THK LNS1»EN ]iKIl)K(iKUO:.f.

" Girls (liaiigf. Yuu aevcr lu-ikcil her but once. Suppose
you try iigiiiii. You are young onoiufh aiiu IhiikLsdiuu (-noij;^'!!
to win uliniusoevur you plctiiie. "

" \'ou iiro (,iiiin])Iii!it'iit;uy. Siijiposo wo leave all t.lint luid
■[ir'^cood to liu.-iineia. Ttjll uie uhuovou luiow of Mi;;.i lUuie'^
abduct ion."

llti seatv,(l liiiiis If lici^re her and Wiiiieii, his eyes iixod
gravely on her faee.

" To in. ike \\ li.it 1 have to t-say iiitoUigible,'' said Aliriani,
" it is accessary to give you an iusiyht into the mystery of lier
]>revious evani.hiuent. She was trii;ked away b,' arliiiee, v.-.v-
jied oil and f')r(ibly lield a j)risoner by a man whose ma^iked
face she never fcaw. ''

" Jnipossiblel Mr. Walravon told me., told every one, fcho
was uith yi'U. "

" Very likely. Also, that I was dying or (had. 'riie (»no
part is a', true as the other iMt)!iie never was mav nje. .Siie
was foreibly detained by this unknown man for a fortnighf.
then bi'ouglit. lume. yi\e told me the story, and also who she
Kuspecleu that man to be.''

" Wiio?"

Miriani looked iit him (3uriously.
Jiootor (iuy Oieandor, or — you I"
Ah, you jest, niiidamel" ha,ughtily.

" I ih) not. She was n)i:-takcn. it appears, but she really
thought it might be you. To make sure, hhe found means at
eommiiiiii ui.i;ig with this f-'iange man, and a mi'eting wa^ ap-
pointed fi»r la.st nigjit, tin o'cloek, ei^rner of liroadway and
Fourteenth Sirort."

"Y»*^1: Weil?"

" Mollie went, b'tiil thiid^iiig — jierhaiis 1 should f'uy h<)})ing
—it might be you, Mr. Ligilow: and I, too, was there."

" Weil?"

" Mollio did not see me. I hovered idoof. It was otdy
half past nine when she fame— half an hour too early— but
already a earriage was waiting, a.nd a man, disguii'od in hat
and el'^ak and Jlowing binrd, stepfied forward and accosted her
at oii(-e. 'W'lial- ho said to her i oon't knoW; but he jiersuadid
her, cviik'ntiy with reluetanee, to enter the carriage with him.
The lain was pouring. I suppose that was why she went, in
a moment the, c (ia< hman had v.hi2»p! d up the horses, and they
Vfvrii otr like a Hash."

]\lii'iam iituibed. Mr. Ingelow sat t.tariug at her with a faeo
of pule amaze.

THE UXSELN' TiniDTEniJOOM.

127

" It fonntls like a sccno from a Jiulod'auia. And Mks
Dane bii.s ]iot rctiinud .since?"

"No; surJ )lio Ikmisi-IioM on I"'ifth Avenue uro jit Ihcir
wits' iMul to ccnipi'ilu'inl iu"

" Ami so iuu 1," suhl the artist. '" I''r t:i \vl):it yen Fuy, it
is evident the went vviilin^ly — (-1' Isor own at;, ord. Jn tuicli u
Miso, of coi'r.-'c, I cnn do nothin.i;". "

" kShedid not go willingly, i am ccM'tain .'-lie entered tliat
carriage under thu imprc-:i(>:i A'm \uis j.;oin^' with jiu."

Mr. Ingf'lo'.v'ti sen.-.liive fate rcildencd. lie rose and walked
tv the window.

" r.iit fcince it was not I, who do von suppose it may have
been?"

•' I>ootor Olcanler."

"Ko! He would not dare!"

'* I dcn't know him," f^aid Miiiani; " hut from what ^lollie
pays of Inm, 1 should jiugi' him to h;: capable of anythiiiji:.
lie loves hi)', and lie ia muiily ji aloii- ; ar.ti jealous men slop
at nothing. '^I'lien, tco. Mis. Walravm woild aid liim. !?lie
hates Mollie as only one woniati (an liaie an.4her. "

" ])uetor Ol'jander, then, must be tin! man wh;» al>dueted
her before, else liow could he keep the assijjfiiation?''

" Yes/' said Miiiam, " that is the worst, of it. I'uor ^lol-
liel it will drive lier mad. h'he dete^ts tlie man with all her
li.ait. If she is in his {)f.wer, he v.i 1 idiow her no mercy.
J.Ir. Jngelow, can you aid Ivv, or mnsi 1 seek iior alone and
unaided?"

Mr. Jngelow was standing with his bark to her, looking out
.it the last yellow line of the. sunset streaking tlio twilight sky.
He turned {)ar!ly siround, very, veiy jiale, as llie woman could
see, and answered, guardedly:

*' You hail better do noihing, I think. You had better
leave the mutter altegeth-'r to me. Our game is shy, arid
easily scared. J.ea^o :iio to deal with h:n). 1 (h.itik, in a
bailloof wits, ] am a mati h even for (iuy (.)leander; and if
Mollie is not iiunie before thu moou wanes, it, will be no fault;
< f mine."

" J will irus,:, \ou," Miriani said, ri.-ing and walking to the
door. '* '^'ou will lose no time. 'J'lie ])oor eliild is, no ilouhi,
ill utter misery."

" I will Jose no time. "N'ou munt g]<('. me a week. 'I'his
day week •:om<) bu'k, if Mollie is uul liomc, aud 1 will meet
vou here."

Miriam bowed her head and opened llie door.

" Mollie will tliaiik you— I can not. Farewell!"

198

THK CKSFKN BRfDT'GnOOM.

" Until this (!;ty uet.k," Hugh Iiigclow paid, with a court-
eous smile aii'l bi:^v.

And then Miriam D-tne was pone, flitting through biuth'ng
Broadway like a lall, hapgiud glio-^t,

Hugh Ingolow turned back to the window, liis brows knit,
his lips com{)iPHsrd, his eyes glowing with a deep, iiiteiiHi' (ire
— thinking. So he stood while tlie low, yillow gleams ditd
out of the western sky, and tlio crystal stars swung iu tho
azure aruh — thinking, thinkingl

CII AFTER XVIII.
"she oxly said, 'jiy life is dreary.*"

That same brilliant sunburst that transfigured the artist's
studio in liroadway l)!azed into ihe boud(nr of Mrs. Carl Wal-
raven, and turned the western windows to sheets of quivering
flame.

Elegant and handsome, in a superb dinner-drens of rose-
bloom silk and pale emeralds, Mrs. Walraven lay back on her
sofa and looked up in the face of her cousin (Juy.

" Buoted and spurred," as if fr(>m a journey, tho young
man stood before her, hat in hand, relating the success of
their scheme. A little i)ale, a good deal fagj.M.d, and very
anxious. Dr. Guy had sought lii.j cousin the very tJr.;t thing ou
his arrival in town. Mis. ('arl, arraj'ed for conquest, going
out to a grand ilinner-pai ty, was very well dif[)o-(il to linger
and listen. An exullaiiL smile wrcallied her full, ripe lips
and lighted the big black eyes with tiiuniph.

" Poor little fool!" she said. " ilow nicely she baitid her
own trap, and how nicely she walked into ill Thank the
stars, she is out of my way! Guy, if you let her come back,
I'll never forgive you!"

" By Jove, Blanche!" said tho doctor, bluntly, " if fhe ever
comes back, it will matter very little whether you forgive me
or not. I shall probably go tor change of air to Sing Sing for
the remainder of my mortal career."

"Pooh! there is not the sliffhtest danger. Tlio ball is in
your own hands; ^lollie is safe as safe in your dreary farm-
house by t!;a n<'a. Your mother and f-'ully and J'eter are all
true as steel; no dang"r of her escaping from them."

" No; but they decline to have anything to do with my mad
patient. It v?.s no easy maiter, 1 can tell you, to get them
to consent to having hor there at all. I must got her an at-
tendant. "

THE UNSEEN BIllDEGKOOM.

199

" That increases the risk. Ilowover, the riok is slight.
Advertise."

'* 1 mean to. I sent an advertiscnietit to the papers before
1 Ciuno hero, CMrnfiilly woiiknl. AppliLaiits im; Lo c tme to my
lAVuv. TliDSL' who ri'ii'l it, a-iil who know me, will think 1
want I' nurse for one of mv invalids, of coiirBe."

" YtHi will ij'j vrry cii;-! ftil in your seiecLinn, d'uy?"

" Certiiitily. My life de|)eii(lH upr»n it. It iei a terrible risk
to run, Blnn(;he, for a foolish litlle girl."

" Hall! Qiiakinfj already? And you ])retend to love her?"

" I do love ii'.'rl" the y.oung man cried, [)asi5ionatelv. "I
love her to madness, or 1 would not ri.sk life and liberty to
obtain her."

" 1 don't see the risk," said Mrs. Blanche, coldly. " You
have the cards in your own hands — play them as you choose.
Only yi)U and I know the secret."

Dr. Oleander looked at h\a [air relative with a very gloomy
face.

" A secret tiiat two know is a secret no longer."

" Do you dare doubt mo?" demanded the lady, fiercely.

"]Sn — ves — I don't know. OhI never look ho haughtily
insulted, Mrs. Walraven. 1 almost doubt mvself. It's my
first felony, atid it is natural a fellow shoidd quake a little.
Hut Mollio is worth tlie risk — worth ten thousand risks. If it
were to do over again, I woidd do it. Hy Heaven, Blanche!
you .>^hould liave seen her as fche i-tood there brandishing that
dag'j;er al >ft and defying me! I never saw anything ho traua-
cendentlv beautiful!"

Mrs. W'al raven's scornfid upper lip cinded.

*' Lady Macbeth — f mr feet high — eh? ' Give me the dag-
gers!' i ahvavs knew she was a vixen. Your married iifp »i
likely to bo a happy one, my dear (Juv!*'

" bh!" Dr. (Juy a'fpiratiMl, "if she only were my wife!
lilanche, I would give all I possess on earth to know who that
man is!"

" Indeed!" said Mmn. Blanehc, ooolly. " Then I think I
can tell you: it was Hugh Ingelow. "

"Blanche!"

" I have no positive knowledge, yon see, of the fact," went
on the lady, adjusiing her regal robes, " but an inward
prescience tells me so. However, you may remarry her and
v?elcomo, fruy. I don't think she will hardly bo tried for
bigamy. The happy man, whoever he msy be, will scarcely
come forward and prove fciie previous marriage."
b

180

Tiir: rxPEKN inuoEoiiooM.

" Ami slio lovca this llii^^h Ingolow?" tho doctor >i»,h\,
moodily.

" !^he told lliiifc old lady ho," J^Irs. Bliuic^ho siii.l, iiirily.

' But, my dc'iir luvi'-sti'iK-k coiuin. v.'luit of tlial? To I )V'o. is

Olio thing; to hiivo, ia juiatlK'r. Shu muy lovo Jitpt'Iow, but

filio is yours, ^luln^ lior your wii'o. Tcueh hor to ovccui-mo

Unit littlo wciilvuis-.''

" As soon as I (.■iiii sottk' my airairs,'' sa;d Doctor Olciindor,
resolutely, *' I sli;dl letivo tho country. I luive ii friend in
lluviiuu — u i)hysici;in. Th'/if' is a promis'n^ oixjui.ig out
there, lie tells me. I'll take MoHio and go."

" 1 would," rci)lii.Hl j\lrs. V,;druvcn, (du'orfully. " It's h
nice, unhiiulthy climate; and then, when you arc a u'idnu-er —
as you will bo, thanks to yellow fever— come back to dear
New York, 'rhoio's no place Jikc it. And now, my dear
Guy, I don't wi.-ih to be rude, you know, but ii" you would
depart at once, you would very mndj obli^^e me."

.Mrs. Walravon stood up, v.m''\c1 (s^c- to th^ wlrdc-lcn,Lrtli
mirror, and took a i)rolonged and compla(jont view of \n'.r lull-
blown charms.

" How do you think I am Ijosiiig, Ouy?" hni,i;uiilly.
" liather too pale, am 1 not? I must huvo rcciourso to that
vulgar neoessii.y. r')u<,'e. Jion'n you thndc tlus new sliade of
pink lovely? and so lup-ldy suitaM',) to my brinu'ttc stylo."

JJr. Oleander gave her a gianec of disgust, took Iiis hut, and
turned to leave.

" 1 didn't come h u'e to talk of )iev/ shades of ))inlc, or your
brunette style, cither. Excuse me f.>r trespassing on your
valuable time, and j)ermit me to wish you good-evening."

" Good-evciung, cousin mine," Mmo. Jilanclie responded,
sweetly. '* Come to-morrow, and we'll havo another little
chat. By the bve, how long do you expect to remaia in tho
city?"

" Until I have engaged an aUci'.tlant, '' ans'.vered the doc-
tor, rather sulkily.

" Ahl and that will be day after to-morrow, at furthest.
"Vou will iind dozens of ap])Iieants. Well, by-byo. Come
again soon. [ shall be anxiou-^ always for your success."

J)r. Oleander fliipartc'.l. His practice was extensive, and he
had hosts of neglected ]);iticnts to att?nd to.

Mrs. VValraveii saw nothing of him all next day; but in tho
evening of tho succeeding day, and ju?t as she v.-as getting
very uneasy, Dr. Oleajider entered, pale and fagged.

Dr. Oleander had spent a mo,-;t liara'v-.ing afte-noon, his
office besieged with applicants for that advertised situatiou.

THE UKSEEN liRIDLOKOOM.

131

Tho number oi incapiibles that tlmuglit thcmsilvou cnj)iible,
jiiid (iiii luiiiiber (if cnpubks wlu) llaily (i.jclliifil (ho lu? iuunt
they hi'Hiil th.\v were to go down into lliu eoiiniry, nii;;lit, huve
worn onf thu jmlifnoo of a more jnitient man. And iho eapu-
l)lc8 williiij,' tu overlook (he dreariness of the counivy in on-
siileratiun of liigh wa^'ea rose up immeJiaLely and bid liini
good-day v.hen infiMnicd tho patient wa.s a hmatic;.

J)!'. Oleander was driven to lije ver^re of tio.- j)eratioii, «het),
I'd jus(, ad he wad about to j^ive it up in despair, there entered
an a|)plieai)t wlio suited as if made to cider.

'i'iiu applicaid, — (hid "last, and bri^ditest, and bept " — was
a woman of uncertain age, tall and stout, stnni^' and strap-
l)injx, and adorned with a head of violent red Innr and a pair
of ^ruen ;-<p.-eta(;les. iMinus thede two dii^au'reeablo items, sho
was a hicrhly reHpectablo worn ui, with a }j;rave, xhrewd face,
and a jtortly })orson wrapped in a somber plaid shawl.

Slio stated her ease. .Slie liad seen the ailvertisenient, .ind
had come to ap[)ly for tho hitualion. She wha aeeu.^Lom' d lo
tho otiiee of sick-nuroO, and considered lier^elf lully (piuiilied
for i(i.

] For statement wa-s plain and stiaight forward — miieh men)
DO than that of her iiredeeensors. J)r. (Meander wa.s inclined
to b(! pl.;ast'd, dtii-^pite the green K.peelacles.

" liut I should \\M\ you to go into the country — a very dull
piano indeed."

The a|>pliciMit fol led her cotton gloves one ever tho other,
and met tir.; doctor's gaze with eomj)Oie;l green ghi sts.

" 'I'he country is no objection, .sir. I'm Ubod to (julel;, and
al! i>laf! s are alike to me."

" You hav'i your credeiilials with you, I su])posof"

" I have, h'ir. lleKs they are."

Nho lianded two or throe certificates of capability to the
toxicologist.

Um glanctrl them lightly over, and saw that Mr.s. S4Joati
yharpt! was all that heart coulil desire in tha way of siek-
nurse.

" 'J'hcse are satisfactory," luuiding them back. " Bat 1
have one faiit to mention that may discouiage you: tho lady
— (he })atient — i:-! insane."

Mrs. .Susan Shar[)e heard this ctartling statement without
moving a muscle of her dull, white face.

Indeed, a'u'l A violent lunatic, sir?

Oh, dear, uol merely insane. Sul)jeot to occasioiial fits
of violence, you understand, but quiet generally. But even
in her most violent fits die would bo nothing in your hauda — ■

132

TJIK I NS*:i:N UIMDI'IGKOOM.

a strong, large woniiin liko ynii. She i.s lilllo inoro than a
thild ill yiui!-, juul fjiiilo u chill in weaixuoss. If you iloii't
mlTid I ho duUuoss ol ihu countrv, you would auiL jtdiuirablv, I

thiMi<."

" 1 don't; in tho least mind, sir. Tho situation will suit mo
rery well."

"lam very glad to hear it," said tho doctor, immon^xly
relieved. " \Vu may consider it a bargain, tlu'u;-'"

" Jf vfiu pleasi', yir," riaiiig (juietly. " When will you want
me to go?"

" Tu-morrow morning. Hy the way, ^Irs. .^liarpe," ;aid
the doctor, eying the obnoxioii.-! lunettcd, " why do you wear
green glasses?"

" My eyes are weak, sir." Mr.-f. Sharpo removed the -loec-
taoles as she spoke, and displayed a pair of ilnll t.'ray eyes witk
Tery pink rims. " Tho light airects them. 1 hope my gly.Hsea
are no objeetion, sir?"

" Oh, not in the least! Exi'use my quostion. Very well^
then, Mrs. Sharjte; just give me your address, and I'll call
round for you to-morrow forenoon."

Mrs. SImrpo gave him the street and number — a dirty
locality near the East Kivor. l)r. Ok-atMlt-r " made a note of
it," and the new nurse made hor be«t obeisance mid dcp irted.

And^ to inform Muie. lilancho of his su;:i;css in llii-s matter,
Dr. (ruy presented himself at the VVal raven matii.ion just a3
tho misty twilight was ereepin;: out and tho stars and street
lamps were lighting up.

He found the lady, .is usur.i, beautiful and oh\:;ant, and
dressed to perfection, and retiiy to receive hiin alone in the
drawing-room.

" I've been seriously anxious about you, Guy," Mrs. Wal-
raven said. " Your prolonged absence t>k'ar]y gave me a
nervous fit. I had serious ideas of calling at ^our idiice this
afternoon. Why were you not here sooner?"

" Why wasn't 1? Because I couldn't be in hiilf a do7.;^n
places at once," answered her cousin, rather crossly. " I've
been badgered within an inch of my life by confounded women
in shabby dresses and poky bonnets all day. Out of two or
three bushels of ohatl I only found one grain of svheat. "

"And that one?"

" Her earthly name is Susan Sharpe, and she rejoices in
red hair and green ghisses, and the blood and brawn and
muscle of a gladiator — !i. treasure who doesn't object to a
howling wilderness or a raving-mad patient. 1 clinched her ai
ono«."

THE T:XSr:?:N URIDKOROOAf.

133

*' And she f^ocs with you — when?"

" 'J'o-runnow inoniio!^'. If Xfollio i.s still obilurnto, 1 iniiKt
IcHve In 1' ill thii woniim's <.h;ir^e, airl return to town. An
POOH us I <!m Ki'ttio ujy ulTiiins, I will go buck to tlic farm and
bo (iir Willi my brido to lliivaiiu."

" Ahvikv.s siippfirtiii;,' slio will not consent to return with you
to Now York in tiiat tlmi actor?"

*' Of course. l>iit .'^lio never will do tlmt," the doctor said,
dei-'potulentiy. " Vou don't know liow sho hates me,

IMiineho slirup'^od hor graoeful shouMers.

" Do you implicitly tiii.-.t this woman you have hired?"

** I trust no one," responded Dr. (iuy, bruy([uely. "My
inotii;!r and Sally and Peter will watch hor. Although, 1 daro
nay, there may bo no necessity, it is always best to bo on tho
safe side."

" Ilow I shruld like to see lier — to triumph over her — to
exult in her misery!" lUanihe cried, hor eyes sparkling.

"I daro say," said J)r. Oleander, with sneering cynicism.
" You would not be a woman, else. Hut you will never have
tho chance. 1 don't hate mv poor littlo captive, remember.
Thoro! is that the dinner-bell?"

" 'N'es— (;omo! We have Sir Roger Trajenna to-day, and
Mr. Walraven detests bt'ing kept waiting."

" Poor Sir liogerl" with a sneering laugh. " How does
the lovesick old (lota.r(l bear thi:^ seconil loss?"

" Hetter than ho did the first; his pride aids him. Jt is my
husband who is like a man distraught."

" Tho voice of Nature sjieaks loudly in the ]iaternal breast,"
said Dr. Oleander. " ' Xaler will capjr,' as Ethan Spike says.
MoUiir's mamma must have been a very pretty woman,
Blanche."

Mrs. Walraven 's black eyes snapped; but they were at tho
dining-room door, and she swept in as your tall, stately women
in trailing silks ilo sweep, bowing to l\vi baronet, and taking
her place, and, of course, the subject of the interesting cap-
tive down in Long Island was postponed indefinitely.

Dr. Oleander dined and spent tho evening at the W^alravem
palace, and talked about his ward's second llight with her
distressed guardian, and opined she must have gone oil to
gratify soni'! whim of her own, and laughed in his sleeve at
tho two anxious faoes hi fore him, and departed at ten, mellow
with wino and full of hope for the future.

Early next morning Dr. Oleander called round for Susan
Sharpe, «nd found that tre»<uro of nurses ready and waiting.

134

THE UNSEEN" rPTPT-OROOM.

All tliroiigli ihn long drive she e;il. by hi^ vaIo in his light
wagon, ru'Vd- cpeninj^ her di-scdt li(>i fxcf^jt in iTHpfiiid to
his qno:-tioi;3, i>ud ^Hziiio- straiglit alx-ud thioiirrh hir <:i-ccii
glassies into th ' ".vorltl or fut'irity, b)v ;ill Iut nonipunioji knew.

'* Ainoi!.',' yoMj- cli.ir^ro's Imllnriniitiiiiis," .sind l)r. Oleiifulci',
just bifwra tlu-y arrived, " tlio chief is; (hat .six; is: iirt crazy au
ull. She will ;oIl you she Ikls hvcn Ijnihghr. h'.'re ngaitist her
will; that I vn u tyrant and a viU'iin, nnd \\\i) \\r\fii of men;
ami she will try and i)rib(' you, I dare tay, to let hir csiuipc.
Of course you will humor lur at the time, Init pay not the
least attention."

" Of cour.y:.'," Mrs. .Susan Sluxrpc- answered.

There was a pau-se, th'on the nurso aslccd the first question
she had put:

" What irt my pat)ent%: name, sir?"

Dr. Oleander ]>iiiised an iiistunt, and rna^'tcred a sudden
tremor. His v.)ioe wiisquiie t^teady wiien he rejilied:

"Miss Dane. Her friunds are tmiiieiiily n'^•peetabIe, and
have the iilmu.-t confidence in me. I lia'. e evu-y reason to
hope that the Cjuiet of tliid place and tiie frcih isoa air will
eventiuiL'y eilcc.t a cure."

"I hope so, sir," Mn;. Susan Sharpe ?aid; and the jiinlc-
rimmcd eyes glowed behind the greoji j.'.hi^!«c:s and into the
talJou'-eandle complexion crej-.t ju.sL the fa^nle.^!. titigo of red.

Ii was an inexpressibly lonely j)ltiee, as Mi.s. Sliarpe saw it.
A long stret(,'h of bleak, desola'e, win iy road, a desolate, salty
niRrsii, ghostly wocds, and the wide, dreary sen. Over all,
this afti?rnoon, a sutilcsa sky, threaivning rain, and a grim old
pile til buildings fronting the si'a view.

" A loni'some 2)lace," Mrs. Su;-um Sliarpo f;aid, as if in spite
of horseli — " an awfully lonesome [)laeL!"

Dr. Oleander looked at her suspiciously a.j he drew up be-
fore the frowning gale.

"It is hinely," he said, carelessly. "I told you so, you
remember; but_, from its very loneliness, all tlie belter for my
too exc' able p;i.tient."

Mrs. Slrivp'j's face seemed to say she ih 'ught it mi;',ht be
more condu.-ive to bi'getting melauelioly ma Inehs than c iiriug
it, but h.M- tongue said n(»tliing. 'I'wo big d gs, harking furi-
ously, cunc tumbling round tho ar.glo of the houije. Dr.
Oleander 3tru<d< tit them with his whiji.

" Down, Tiger! Sdenoe, >ier \ y^.u overgrown biutel" ho
nvi'^1, willi on angry oath. "Come along, Mis. 8harpe,
There's no occasion to bo ahirmcd; they wont t(. j.ch you."

Mrs. Sharpc, despite this assurance, lookin/j mortally

THK fNSKEN KRIDEGROOM.

l:i6

afraid, kept cloje to the doctor, and stood gazing in'ound hc>i'
whilo v/iutin^^ to be admittial. Bolta gi-;itod, the key creaked,
;i!)d lioiuilv ;m I wuiiiv old Peifc oiicned the dooi' U!id recoii-
noitcred.

"It is T, I'c-tcr, you old fooll (Jet oat of tho way, aud
don't keep us wuitingi"

With whiidi rough greetinpc the young man strode in, fol
U)w:d hy tlio iuu\^l'.

*' lit; fotcht.; ;i w'ouKui eveiy time," uiunnured old Petor,
phiiuUvid'/, " and we've got u great plenty now, Lord kuowt!"'

" '['hi-! wav, nia'arn," lalled Dr. Oicandf-, a'ridiug .straight,
to (hi' kiL:;iK';i; " \\\-"ll (ind a lire hero, at h:ixsL 1l'.s \vo;?e
than (Ji-eenlanil, this frigid zonti"

Mvi. Oleaiiiier Hi'l. Ix'fore Ihe blazing fire, iiluoking a fowl;
'"■'ally Ktt)od at the table, kiu'ading dough. IVith pau.-ed, wilh
feuiininc c::idauiution.'^, at sight oC the doctor, and turned
dire!/tly, with fi-rniniiio eurinrfity, to stare at the woman.

" Ilow do, laotiiL'r? How tire you, Sallv? J>a.';k again,
you see, like ihe proverbial bad t'liiliingl This is Mrs. busan
ISh irpc, tlic nurse 1 prouiisitl to bring. IIow's our pationt?"

lie t!irned anxiously 'o his mother. tSha took her eyes from
Mrs. Shai-po to answer.

" J don't k.'iow: .^lio frigliteius uk', <aiy. "

" Fri;;htens youl'' growing very ])ale. "How? Is she so
vioieJit?"

" No; it's tlift other way. 8he'i^ so still; John's like one
(1( ;id in life. Slio sit; all day, and never moves nor :^poaks.
She doesn't eat enough to keci) a bird alive, and she never
iileej)s, I beliese; I'or, go into her ro' ni night or day, there
you liud I.er sitting wide awake."

Dr. Oleander looked white witli dismay.

" Does she never s]»eak?" he asked.

" She never s[)iiko to iiio but ouee, aial that was to ask me
who I was. When I t'l 1 iier 1 was your mother, she lin-ned
hor bark upon lue, with the remark, ' He says I'm mad, and
surely none but a mad-woman vvould look I'or uuirey from a
:,iger'd dami' She has never spoKon to me sinee. "

Dr. Oleiuidor stood listening with i\ very gloomy faeo. J-Ira.
Sharpe, sittinu' warmin:; herself before the tire, lo iked straight
It it, with a blank, sallow faee.

" What do you laid her doing mostly?" ho u.3ked, after
'iwhile.

" Sitting by the window, looking at the .va," a;i8worod his
mother--" always tluit — wiih a faco the color of snow."

The gloom on the young man's faee deepened. What if ho

136

THE UXSKEK nRTOFOllOOM.

should prove liimi-elf a prcpliot,? Wh-.t il iliKi sjiiritcd, half-
tamed ibing sliouUl {lo jiii'lanclioly iijud?

" I v/ill go (n hur at once!" he exclaimed, starfiug up.
*' It she goes i'it.o a pas^itni at i-icdit (if mo, it will do her good.
iVnydiinpr is b'.'tter tliin thi.-; dtaih in lift'.*'

H'j heM out Ills hand for the key of thj room upstairs, lli^
muth;>r Iianded it to him, and lie strode (uii, at once; and then
M 3. Oleander turned her regards upon tlie new nurse.

►StivingL-r:^ were "sight fur sair een " in tluit ghostly, do
eerted farm-house. Ihit the new nurse never looked at In
she sat with thnsje impenetrable green glasses iixed steadfas./
ou the blazing tire.

CnAPTKii XIX.

MISTHKSS SUSAN- SlIAUPE.

Dh. Olkaxhek was by no meaiis a coward, yet it is safe to
say his heart was bumping iigainst his ribs, willi u soisatinu
that was near akin to lear, m ho ascetuhjd the stairs. lEo was
really infatuatedly ifi love willi h'n fair-haired liitlo eiirh.ant-
ress, else he tiever hal taken his late des^jieiato step to win
her; and now, having her completely in his power, it was
rather hard to be threatened with her loss by melancholy
inadne:^8.

*' What s/iall 1 do with her?'* he asked hims.lf, in a sort of
ccnsteination. " 1 must keep her here until I get my aifairs
settled, and that will be a week at the soon* st. If we were
safely en rank for Havana, I should cease to fear. JIow v/lU
she receive me, I wonder?"

Ha tapped softly at the door. Th'.'re was uo response.
The silence of the grave reigned all through the lonely old
liouse. He tapi>ed again. tStill no un.;wer. " Mollii'I" ho
called. There was no reply. The next moment he had in-
sorted the key, turned it, and opened the prison door.

Ur. Oleander paui^ed on the llire.sh(>ld and took in the jiict-
ure. He could see the lovv'-lying, i-unlcss afternoon sky, all
gray and cheerless; the gray, complaining sea creeping upon
the greaov ^hingle; the desolate cxjian.-e of road; the tongue
of niarshlaiiii; the strip of black ]»ine woods — all that could
bo seen from ihe window. The prlr.on-room look<d drear and
bleak; the lire on (he liearth wa!s snioliloi ing away to bhuk
ashos; the untastcd nual stood on the tab!'\ iStHtt'l by the
window, in a dro- ping, siiiritles-; way, a.^ if ijvor carinj^ to stir
ngdin, sat bright Alollie, the gliost of her former m',! Wan
M a spirit, thin as a shadow, the rparkle gone fmrn her blue

THE UNSEEN ERIDEOnOOir.

137

eves, the E;nl(len plimmer from the yellow liuir, she sat there
with folded hatids m\:\ weary, lio{)elc.w eyes that never k-ft the
desolate sea. Kot imprisoiiincnt, not the desolation of the
I)rospect, not the loneliness, not the fasting had wrought the
cha'igp, but the kfiowled^e that she was thit:' man's wife.

Dr. Olnuider had aninle time to stand there and view the
scone. fShe never frtiiied. If she heard the door open, she
made no more sign than if she v.'ere stone deaf.

" iMolliel" he called, advancing; a step.

At the sound of that hated voice bhe gave a violent start, a
faiiit, stiu-tled cry, and turning for the first time, eyed him
like a wild animal at hay.

" Mollic, my poor litUe girl," he said in a voiee of real
jiiiy, "you are gone to a shad.;.wl I never thought a few
days' confinement could work such a change."

She never spoke; she sat breathing hard and audibly, and
eying him with wild, wide eves.

" "^'ou mustn't give way like thir', Mollie; you mustn't really,
you know. It will not be for long. I mean to talce you away
from lierc. V'ery s )on we will go to ('uha, and then my whole
life will be devoted to you. No slave will serve h's mistress as
1 will you."

He drew nearer as he p{)oke. Quick as liirhtning her hand
sought her breast, and the blue gliam of the dagger dazzled
his eyes.

"One step nearer," she liissed, between set, glistening
teeth, " and I'll bury it in your heart or my ownl"

8he raised it with a gesture grand and terrible, and rising
slowly fi-'un her scat, coiifronted him like a little tigress.

"Mnilic," he said, injpijriiiglv, " lidten to me — your hus-
band!"

Her white teeth locked together with a clinching noise; siie
s'jiod there like a pale little fury.

" Have you no pity for such love as mine, Mollie? Is vonr
heart made of stone, that all my devotion can not meli it?"

To bis horror, .she Irnke into a discordant, niirthk's;; laugh.

" Ilis devotion! He tears me away from nu' friends, he
locks mo up in a dungeon until he drives mo maill lli3 devo-
tion!"

Siie laughod hysteiirally again.

" It secins harsh, Midlie, l)nt it i'-; not meant in harshness.
If there were any other way of winnijig yon. you know I would
never resort to nu'h extreme nieasiiroJi. I am not the only
mail that ha;^ c „i ricd en" t)u; woman he Ijved, when other
menus failed to win her."

138

THE rNSRFN IMUDr.GTJOOAr.

j\gain ho can o nearer, holding out his lianfls \yith an im"
plorifig gestni'o,

" Only y>iy tliafc you will try and hjvo nie — only pay that
yoii will bo my vifo — pronii.^i; uh'. on your v, m-tl of honor, and
I will take you i)ack to Aow York tliiri dayl"

J>ut 1* ll'e's inswer was to raise her forniidaMc knife.

"One ' • ore," she said, jrlarin;: nnon him with sup-
pressed fui_) one step nearer, if you .hirel"

lie saw in 1 . face it was no idle threat, and lie recoilcii.

" 8tay here, then," he an-rrdy erieil, '* since you will Imva
it so! It is yoi r own fault, and you must abide (he conse-
quences. Mine you shall bo, by fair Hitans or foul I I leave
you now, since my pretienoe does no good, l)ut by this day
week you will le sailing with mo to sunny Cuba. T;. re I
can have tbings my own way, and your high-tragedy airs will
avail 3'ou little."

He walked tc the door, turned, paused. She stood like a
statue, v/hite as marble, but with, oh! siuJi fiercely burning
eyos!

" 1 have brouj;ht you an attendant," ho Kail, sidlcnly. " I
will send her up for those things," pointing to the iintasted
dinner; "she w 11 wait u2)on you during the bricj timi.' you
are to n.-main here."

She never mo cd. She stood there white and defiant and
panting, her glit ering eyes riveted to his faoe. With a sullen
oath he opened t le door and walktxl out, btdlled once more.

" Curse the little vixeiil" he muttertd, as he stalked down-
Btairs; " she's m ide of the stuiT tbat brcak^^ but never bends.
1 believe in my s >al if I was to carry hor off to sea to-m'>rrow
she would lea}) o\ erboard and end it all the day after. 1 wish
I had never listened to Bianehe's tempting. I wi-h I had left
the little ternuifiant in peace. The game if-ii't worth the
candle."

He found Mrs. Supan Sharp;', sitting wliere he had left her,
rith Iht imperturbable face still turned to the lire, her bonnet
and shawl still on.

*' Take ol! those things!" lie ordei-ed, harshly, pointing to
the o'Tending g;irnu:nts— it was a relief to vent his .-pleen on
some one. " Why the deuce don't you take her to her
room!''" turning navagely upon Sally. '* Let her have tho
chamber next my patient, and thtii go into her room and
feti'I) away tho tray, and sefi what you (;an do for iicr. "

lie (lung hinifitlt into a chair. Mrs. Sh.arpo roi^e with £'>
immovabl,) fiice.

" Lor'I" taiJ old »Sally, " don't tsnap our heads off, Master

THE rx?T:F-V PRiDF.nnnoir.

13!)

K.n

Guy! I can't help that yonng wroman'.s tantrum?; upstair!-;;
so, if sh<? ])uis you out of tomiJtr, you nec-dn't come howlin;;,'
at uv\ 'Ylm way, dia'ani."

Mrs. Sbu'jip, Willi a Ktoli'l countenance, followed Sally up-
stairs. The old woman, grumOling angrily all the way, U<1
hor into a small, draughty apartment adjoining that of hir
charge.

" 'i'hore!" eaid Sally, snappishly: " this here is your room?
and the crazy young woman's i.s next. Take oii your things,
and then conio down-stairs and see v.hat he want.s next, and
don't have him biting at us as if wc was dog^I"

Mrs. Sliarpe obevc-d orders to the hiter. In five minutt.8
she was back in the kiL< hen, ready for a' tion. '^I'iu! carroty
locks were partly covered with a Idack, uncouth cap, and a
large stud' apron protected her dingy bombazine dress. She
turned a questioning face upon her employer, but spoke never
a word.

" This is the key of your patient's room," he said, handing
it to her; "you will go up and introtliice yourself, and do
whatever is needful. I im going ba'-k to town to-nif^ht.
Don't let me have aiiv fauit to rind wilk you when I return."

Mrs. Sharpu t.»ok the kev and turned to go.

" I know my duty, sir," she ^id, as she walked cut. '* I
know wlua J came to do, and I'll do it."

J)r. Oleander turned to hi mother and old Sally when the
nurse had gone.

" What do you think of lier, mother?"

" 1 don't like her,'* Mrs. Oleander answered, promptly.
" 1 wouldn't trust a person with hair like that as fur as I
CO'dil see them!"

" Pooh, ptM)h! what's her hair got to do with it?"

" Very well," Haid Mrs. (Jlt-aiider, nodding fiap;aciousIy.
" It's noihiug to me; but a red-haired per.^ou is never to be
trusted."

"Then watch her," paid the doctor. "I tru?t you and
Sally to do that. 1 know nothing ahout her: but don't you let
iier play me false. It i^ of the grfate.«t importance to me that
the insane girl lip-tiiirs does not escape — and escapi" she will
if she can. She will try to bribe the nurse — do you waich the
nurse. Ii will only b>' i'or a we* k at furthest."

" 1 am glad to hear it," j^aid his mother, sjiilefidly. " I
don't like mv hoii.co full of niiid-women and nuul womon'rf
nurKos, and J don't lik; |)layin.- the spy!"

** It will only be for a week,"' the doctor repeated. " 1

110

THE UNSFEW BRIDEGROOM.

will jiever trouble you in tliij way again. And now I mnst
bo off at once. 1 want to sjleep in Kew York to-u'ght."

Without fur! her parley Dr. Oleander stalked out of the*
kitchen and out of the hou;>e. Five minutes more, and they
Iieard the sha'p rattle of his wIkh'Is on the giuvel. Then old
Peter bolted and locked and put up the chiiins, and made the
lonely farm-house as much like a jail as bolts and bars could
render it. Their 8ituatiou was so isolated, and they them-
selves so helpless, that, although there was but little to fear;,
these precautionary measures were natural enough.

Meantime, the new nurse had ascended the stairs and un-
locked her captive's door. She rap[ied rtspictfuiiy before
entering; but, as usual, Mollie deigued no notice, and after
waiting an instant, she turned the handle and went in.

Mollie had resumed her seat by the wi;u1o\v. and, with her
chin resting on her hand, was gazing with gloomy eyes at the
evening mists rising over the bleak gray sea.

Much weeping had dulled the luster of those Fparkling eyes
and paled the bright bloom of the once rounded cheeks.

"J'ho Chrisunas snows were not whiter nor colder than the
girl who sat there and stared in blank de;-j);ur at the wide sea.

" I beg your pardon, miss," said Mi^j. Susan Sharpe, halt-
ing in tiio door-way; " I want to come in."

At the sound of the strange voice, the prisoner wheeled
euddeidy around and confronted her.

"Come in, then," she said: and MiS. Sharpe came slowly
in and closed the door. " Who arc you?"' MoJlic asked,
transfixing her with her steadfast gaze. " 1 never saw you
before. "

" No, mias; 1 only came from JS'ew York to-day."

" Who are you?"

" I'm Susan Sharps."

" And what are j'ou doing here?"

" I'm to 1)6 your nurse, miss. Doctor Oleander hired me
and brought me down."

" Doctor Oleander is a villain, and you are, I sui-pcct, his
tool."

*'J'm sorry you think so, miss," Mrs. Suian Sharpe said,
composedly. " Is there anything 1 can do for your"'

F>ut Mollie did not reply. She was staring at her new at-
tendant with all her ijjight.

" Who are yen? ' f-he said, breathlepsly. *' Surely eoui».
one 1 know."

Tiie woman smiled.

THE UNSEFN KRIDEGHOOM.

141

" Ko one 3'ou kiunv, miss— unleHS yon have the advantage
of rn^. r don't Btij>p i;e you ever heiin] mv name btf )re. "'

"I don't t^upposy 1 htive," retorted Miij Dane; "but I
Imve certaiMly luard your voio". ''

" Nol Have yon, now ? Where, I wonder?"

Mollie ^a/.iui at her wi-t fully, scrulinizingly. Surely that
fjico, that voice, woro fMiniliar; and yet, as soon as she strove
to place thcni, all became ooururfion. She turned away with
a si/,'li.

" It's of no use. I .siipt)o:^o you're in leaj^iue witli the rcdt.
1 think the jKiopIe in this hourfc liave hearis harder than
atone."

*' I'm very sorry fu- you, mist^, if that's what you mean,"
Paid Mrs. Su^an Sharjie, reapcctfully. "■ ^'oura is a very sad
altliolion, indeed."

*' A very sad aHliction! ])o you mean beint? impri;ionod
here?" ^ *

" Oh, dear, no, mis.s!" looking embarrassed. " I mean—
T'ni sure, I beg your pardon, miss — I mean — "

*' Vou moan you jjretend to believe Doctor Oleander's ro-
mance," interrupted Moljie, contemptuously. " You mean
1 am crazy I"

" Don't bo angry, miss," said Mrs. Sharpo, deprecatingly.
*' J wouldn't give oironss for (he world."

" Look at mo," said Mi>llie, impetuously — " look nie in the
face, Susan Sharj)c, and tell me if 1 look like one insanel"

Mrs. Sharpe turned the mild light of the green glasses oa
the pale, excited young face.

" No, miss, I (um't say you do; l)iit it isn't for me to
judge. I'm a |)oor woman, trying to (urn an hoii"?t
j>enny — "

" J}y helping tho greatest scoumlrel that ever escaped tlie
gallows to keep prisoner an unotTending gnll Is that how
you try to turn an honest })onny, Su.^an SharjR-?"

Susan iSharpe, shrinking, as well as she might, from the
tiery flashing of two angry blue eves, ni'irniurod an inaudibla
something, and busied herself among the dishes.

" Listen to me. woman," (^ried Mollie, ])ushing back her
wild, lo 'se hair, " and pitv me. if you have a woman's heart.
This man — this Dooto!- Oleamler — led me into a triip, in-
veigled me from home, brought me here, and keeps me here
a ])risoner.
am insane.
and I am almost frantic by being kept here. Help mo to es-

T'l further his own ba^e ends he gives out that I
My friends are in the greatest distress about me.

14^

THE UNSEEN BRIDEGROOM.

cape — my frluuda in Xiw York are rich and |!ij«veri'til~-^.?p
»ao, Su:sa!) Si)iuT"^, ainl you will ncvci- know WAitt morol"

M:-.s. SLiiUii IShai'}»e luiil keen eaiu E\i.:ii in (.ho midst of
thia excited addit-ss she had heard a flrulth; footstep on tho
creakinijj fc:tai..-3 — a footstep (hat had ]'aused jn:-t outsido tlio
door. i>hii tiiok lier cue, and nnide no sign.

" I'm V'.M'V sorry, miss." sHghtly ruisin^^ hor voice — " VGry
Sony for \\''U, indeed. Wliat you say mnv bj all very Iru",
but lu makes no (li!)\rence to uv. My dutv'.-; plain eiiou;^!!.
I'm paid for it, I've promised to do it, and I'll do it."

"And that is— "

" To wait upfiji you. I'll be your fa,illifu] ii'L^'nuant wliilo
I'm here; but to help youlo oseup«: J ( iur't. J)octor Oleanilur
tcil^ mn you're insane; you tell me yourself you're not insane.
T suppose y: u ou^ht to know best: but I've been in lunatic
asyhinis b.'fo. e nww, and I never yet knew one of 'em to ad-
mit there was anything; tho matter with 'em."

And wi;h this cruel speeili., Mrs. Susan Sharpe, keeping
her eyes anvwiiero but upon Lho youn^' lady's face, lifted the
tray and turned to go.

" Is there anything' I can do f^r you, mi*^:-;?" she said,
pausing at the door. " Is tijore aiiythifig nice you would like
for supper?"

But M'.Hiio did not reply. TJltevly bioken down by fasting,
and impri.-ouuieut, and soldu;i,% she had Ihuig heri^eU' ]iassinn-
ately on the lloor, and bin-st out into a wild storm of hyster-
ical weeping.

" I'm very sorry for you, Miss Dane," the nurse said for
tho benelit of the eavesdropper witliout; "but my duty's my
duty, and 1 must do it. I'll fots.h you up your supper ])res-
ontly — a cup of tea will cure I he 'sLerieks. "

Siio 0[)ened tlx^ door. Mrs. Oleander, at the head of tho
;:t;iiroase, wa:? making a great show of having just eoine up,

" They'll be the d( ath of mo yet— those stairs!" she panted.
" I often tell my son I'm not llitid to mount up and dov/n a
dozen times u day, Uijw in my old ago; but, la! what do young
men care?"

" Very true, rua'aui," ro{)lied tho impertuibablo nurse to
this somowliat obscure speech.

" And how's youi' pationt?" continued the old ladj.

" Very bad, ma'am — 'stcricky and wiW-like. I loft her
crying, poor siull"
■"Crying! i'or what?"
" Ijecaiidu 1 woukin't help her to escape, poor dear!" said

THE UKSKEN PRIDEGROOM.

143

Mifi. Klmr])0 in a tone of oommiocnitinn. '' She's grcally to
Lo piiie.l."

'* Ahl" said j\tig. Oleander, rnrcl(v--3ly; " yoi.i oouldu'l; hrlp
her. yon knew, oven if vou would. Thcio's iVtiT, iind h'ally,
and ine on llio wafch all day Ion;L', und from nightfall wo li fc
JoDSO Tigci* and ^'ero. Tlu^y'd tear you both to pieces in fivo
niiniite?. Tuli lier yo, poor creature, if she talks any more of
CHe,''.p(>, "

'* 1 will, ma'tim," responded tlie respect fnl Mrs. .Sliurpe.

Mrs. Ok'ander af^eended tlio stairs and went to her own
room, yvvy well yalisfied with the sulmiissive and discreet new
nurse; and the new nurse descended to the kitchen, and prc-
])a!Td her patient's sup]ier of tea and toa.st, deli 'ate sliced
luua, and ra.sj»borry preserves.

Tlie dusk of the KunlctJS afternoon wii3 fallin;]; out-of-doors
ere her jnep-arations were completed, and the stair-ways and
halU^ of the dreary hou^e were in deepest gloom tis she re-
turned to her patient's room.

fShe found that uidiappv little patient lying prone on her
face on the lloor, as still, a^ mot ir.nk .'•>•; ;is if death had
hushed forever that impulsive heart. She nuulo no sign c!
having heard when Jhs. Sharpe entered — she ) 'jver movevl
nor lookeil up until the nurse set llie tray on the lable, an I
stooping over her, gave her a gentle shake.

" J\riris j)aue," she said in her stolid tones, " please to got
nj). Here's your supper."

And MoUie, with a low, wailing cry, raised her vran fr.co
and llxed her blue eyes on the woman's face with a look of
pasisionate reproach.

" Wliy don't you let me alone? Why don't yon leave me
to d'"? Oh, if I had but the courage to die by my own
hamV/'

" J'lease to take your supper," was ^Ira. Sharpo's practical
answer to this insane outburst. " Don't be fooli h."

She lifted MoUit) bodily u{), led Iier over, scati d her in her
chair, poured her out a cup of tea, and made her drink it,
before that Imlf-distracted cieature knew what she was about.

" Now take another," s.iid sensible Mrs. Sharpe; " tea will
do you a power of go.d; and cat something; there's nothing
like good, wholesome victuals for curing ])f'ople of notions."

Wearied out in I)ody and mind, Mullie let lierself bo catered
for in .suluni'-isive sileui'i'. She took to her new nur^e as sljo
ha I nevr lake?i to anyone rho in this horrid h-ouso. She
hiul :', !undly fai;o, had Mrs. Suf^an Sharpo.

" You feel bettor now, don't you?" said that worthy worn-

144

THE UNSEEN rinDEGllOOM.

an, the inoul completed. " Suppose yon go io bed? You
look tired. Let mo i!iv)rf"'3 you and tuck you in."

And again willful Mollis? submitted, and dropped asleep as
soon as her head was fairly on the pilli>w. Alotherly Mrs.
8harpe " tunked her in" and kissed her, and then, with the
remains of the supper, wont dowu-stuirs to partake of her own
evening repast.

Mrs. Oleander took tea with her servants, and was very
g0S8ij>y indeed. So, too, was old Sally; so, likewise, was old
Peter. The beverage that exhilarates seemed to lighten their
aged Isearts wonderfully; but MrtJ. Suijan Sliurpo did not thaw
out under the potent spell of the best Knu'iish breakfast toa.
Silent and attentive, yhe eat, and drank, and listened, anil re-
sponded when direetly adiiressed; an<l^ when it was ovor,
helped Sally to clear up, and then pounced upon a basket of
undarned hose under the table, and worked away with a will.
Her energy and good-will, arid the admirable maimer in which
she filled up the holes in the stockings with wondrous criss-
cross work, quito won thu hearts of both Sally and Sally's
mistress.

The clock struck nine; work was laid aside; Mrs. Oleander
read a chapter aloud out of the iiible, an. I they then all ad-
journed to their respective chambers. J)oors and windows
had been secured at nii'litfull, Tiger and Nero liberated — their
hoarse, deep growls; every now an i then making night hideous.

Up in her own aj)artment, Mrs. Su;:an Shar])e's first ac„
was to pull up tlie curtain and seat herself by the window.
The night was pitch dark — m-joniess, starless — with a sighing
wind and a dully moaning sea. It was the desolation of utter
desolation, doivn in that dismal sea-side prison — the two huge
dogs below the only living things to be heard.

*' It's enoug!:^ t-J drive any one mad, this horrible place,"
said Mrs. Susan iSharpe to lierself; "and the very weather
seems in the conspiracy against us."

She took her lamp as she spoke, and hold it close to the
window, with an aiixious, listening face. Its solitary red ray
streamed far out over the black road.

Five, ten, fifteen minutes passed, then a sound rent the
.Uight silence— a long, shrill, sharp whistle.

" Thank the Lord!" said Mrs. Susan Sharpe. " I thought
he wouldn't fail."

She dropped the curtain, set the light on the table, knelt
down and said her prayers, rose up and undrcsvsed herself;
and then this extraordlAary female weut to bed a ad to sle«p.

d;
w

TIJK INSKF.N IKllJl-UKOOM.

14^

CUAPTER XX.

HUGH INOKLOW KEEPS HIS PKOMISE.

Miis. Si-SAX SiiAHi'K W118 Up with the lark, or, laduT, with
tlui ht'H-}^ulls whirling ami shrieking out on the testing wators.
Tho luilv morning sun streamcil in tlu' liltU' chaailicr; tliM
wind waiifil |jlaiiilively still, and thi' dull tiauip. tianiji of
the niullitudmout? waves kept up llicir ceatjt'K'i-8 nfrait/.

All Was yet still in the lone farni-hon'-c — no living thing was
ffiiring, not even the nits, that hal liold hi^h curiiival all
night. J)own in tho hack yard and front garden, 'J'iger and
Nci'u pr.iuUid about their heat, surlily gi/owling at the toss-ing
in IS, and were nionarchs of all they surveyed.

Mrs. 8harpe was not an imaginative person, luckily. She
got up and made her toilet, and s[>iashed hiTRelf Iniskly in a
but^in of cold water. Tho ell'oil of thctse ahlutions was singu-
lar — they effected a total cure of her inllamed eyelids.

More singular still, a wig of ml hair stood on the dressing-
table, and Mrs. .Sharpe's cranium was adorned with a respect-
uble growth of dark, glossy, brown hair.

" If they only saw me now,'' ?uil Mrs. SharjKi to herself,
with a cluu'klo, " I rather think tliev'd op-n their old eyes!"

She went to work artistically — reddened her eyelids over
ag.iin, carefully adjusted her wig, si t her e;ip on it, lixed her
specijicles on her nose, and surveyed herself complacently in
tile Clacked chimney-glns's.

" ^'ou'U do," said Mrs. Sli;irpo, n dding 'anill'arly to h 'r
imiige. " You're as uglv as if soniebodv had bes[)oke yu.
I only wonder how that little unfortunate can take to sui L •
lookini;; ol)ject — iind she does take to me, poor dear! And
now I'll write to him. lie's sure to be along in the course of
tho morning. "

Taking from her capacious pocket a blank-book and a lead-
pene.il, Mrs. Susan Sliar[>e saL down and wrote.

And thio is what Mrs. Sharpe wrote:

"She's here, and safe and Will, and don't know mo no
more than the dead. B.iL I can'l get her out. Two old
women and one old man are on the vvatrh all day long. I
darei\'t sneeze but they know it. And betore they go otf the
watch there's two big, savage d.gs goes on, and prowl about
all night. 1 don't know what to do; tell nje. 8he's awful
down-hearted, and ciiesj luid goeij on. i lieard your whistle

TUK UIN'SKEN BiaiiEOliOOM.

I'-^' nij^iit. Ilor room ia next to mino— tlio wi/ulnws to tho
left. If voii walk on tUo hemli muK hl'i' yoti; .^Ijn sits at ll»o
UKi'loiv all (liiv. i)octor (). i:s goinn to t'liba ia ;i wi-cL, and
going to tuko hm* witli him; so you had bettor bo quick."

I^Irs. >Shar{)o read hor own composition over two or th'-i'o
tinier, with a satisiicd look.

"1 thnik that, will do," sho niurmurwl. "Trust liini to
find a way out of a li\, and we're in a llx now, if Ihevo vwv
v.'as one. Drat tho doyal Jl it wasn't for them I could get
on myself."

^,\r. Sliarpe was not a rapid scribe. It liad taken her a
considerable whilo to indite this, and tho liousihold was astir
tSho folded it up in the binallest possible dimcnsiona, a*
wedged it into her thimble.

" A bra.-'s thimble nnikcK a good, strong env(doiie," said luu
nurse, with a grim smile. " And now to begin my day'a
work."

She quitted her own apartment and wont into that of her
charge. Mollio was still aslee{) — sleeping like a babe, with
]ij)s ;vpart, and theeks softly ilushetl, anil looS',', golden hair
falling in burni.^hed ma.sses over the pillow. Involunlarily
Mrs. Sharjio paused.

" She looks like a picture," sho tiiought. " Ko wonder
he's crazy in love."

Tho sound of tho opening door awoke th*' light sleeper. Sho
rfio up on her elbow atnl stared around. The nurse advanced
wiiL a propitiatory smile.

" Good-morning, miss," Kho said, cheerfully. " I hopo
you had a nice bleep."

"Oh, id ]t you?" said Mollie. "I. was drcamintr 1 was
back homo with guardy, and »Sir Roger, and poor Hugh, and
h.ere I am still. Oh!" in a voice of bitter anguish, " why did
yon awako me?"

" My poor dear," said the nurse, touclied, " I didn't know,
you know, or I vv^ouldn't. There! don't thiid^ about it
now, but got up, liko a good girl, and wasli ;nid dress your-
Golf, and have your breakfast comfortable, 'j'liings won't be
alwiiys like this, you know."

Mollio looked wisi fully at her, but Mrs. Sharpo wasn't
going to commit herself, with no certainty but that listening
ears were at the door.

She assisted the poor prisoner with her toilet, combed out
and curled the beautiful, abundant hair, and mado hor aa
pr«tty as a picture.

THK L'NSKEN liHrDKCTlOOM.

14?

*' She'rt lost lior rosy clu'i;ky, uiul is fiiilcd ii'.vuy tonotlii(i<T,"
mused tlio mirso. "Only for that, siioM ha the lovehcafc
thing tho Hiin aiiiiicHon."

" And iu.,\' you're ll.cod, my protty dear," said Mrs. Sharpp,
" I'll go down und get your breakfast. TSobody oyer I'ecid
ri;iht in tho niorniiig on un eiupty sLonnioh. "

Down in tho kitchen, Mis. Shaipe foiiiui thin;(s in a lively
state of jn'('|)aration — olTue boiling, steak broiling, toast
making, and mnllins baking. Old ."Sally, in a stale threaten-
ing spontaneous combustion, bent over tho lire, and Mrs.
Oleander, in her roeking-i hair, superintended.

" Are you only getting up now?" asked the doctor's
mother, susi)iciously.

" JJeon up these two hours, ma'am," responded Mrs.
Sharpo. " I tidied up myself and my room, and then tidied
up Miss Dane and her'n. 1 came dnwn to fetch up her
breakfa.st."

" It's all ready," said Sally. " Fetch along your tray."

So Susan Sharpe fctihed along her tray, and received a
bomitiful supply of coU'eo and toast, and steak and mutlins.

"There's nothing iiko plenty of good victuals for curing
tho vapors," observed Sally, sagely. " ^'ou make tho young
woman oat this, Mrs. Sharpe, and she'll feel better, you'll

SCO."

Mrs. Sharpo smiled, as she bore off her burden, at tho id(^u
Sally must liave of one little girl's ajipetite.

Slie foiMid Moliie sitting at the window gazing at the sea,
sparkling as if sown with stars, in the morning sunshine.

" Is it not beautifid?" sho saiil, turning to the nurse.
" Oh, if I were only free onee more — fit e to have a [ilunge in
that snow-white siu'f — free to have a bieezy run along that
delightfid beach this magniliceiit moridng?"

Mrs. Sharpe set down her tray, looked cautiously aronnd
her, lowered her voice, fixed her green-spoctaeled eyes mean-
ingly on Mollie's face, atid uttered these remarkable words:

** VVaitI You may be free before long!"

" What do vou mean?" cried Moliie, btarting violently.

" Hush: 'Sh! 'sh!" laying her hand over the girl's mouth.

have oars, in prisons. Take your
her voice. " It will do you no
good, acting ugly and not eating."

Vor tho stairs had creaked under a cautious, ascending
iDotstep, and Mrs. Sharpe h.-.d iieard that creak.

So, too, had Moliie this time; Mid sho turned her shining
ejea in elo<^uent silence to Mis. Sharpe, and Mrs. Sharpe had

" Not a word. Walls
breakfast, miss,"

raisnig

148

THE UNSEEN BRIDEOROOM.

noilded, and smiled, and grimaced toward the door iu a way
that apoke voliiuies.

'* I'm goiiig down to get my breakfii'^t, now," she said,
authoriiuLively. " Lot me see what you'll have done by the
time 1 get back. "

The stairs were creaking again. Mrs. Sharpe did not liurry
too much, and Mrs. Oleander, all panting, was back in her
rocker when she re-entered the kitchen, trying very hard to
look as though she had never left it.

"And how's your patient to-day, Mrs. Sharpe?" she asked,
as soon as she could properlv get her wind.

" Much the same," said Mrs. Shurpc, with brevity; " want*
to starve herself to death, crying in spells, and making a
time. Let lue help you."

This to Sidly, who was scrambling to get half a dosK^n
things at once on the table. Mrs. Sharpe came to the rescue
with a practiced hand, and u])on the entrance of old IVter,
who had been out chaining up the dogs, the quartet imme-
diately sat down to breakfast.

After breakfast, the new nurse again made herself generally
useful in the kitchen, helped Sally, who was inclined to give
out at the knees, to "red up," was^hcd dishes and swe])t the
floor with a brisk celerity worthy of all praise.

And then, it being wash-tlay, she wiiipped «p her sleeves,
displaying two lusty, round arms, and fell to with a will
among the soiled linens and steaming soap-suds.

" 1 may as well do something," she said, brusquely, in an-
swer to Mrs. Oleander's very fj/mt objeclii»ns; " there's noth-
ing to do ujjstairs, and she tloesn't want me. She only calls
me names."

Su Mrs. Susan Sharpe rubbed, and wrung, and soaped, and
pounded, and boiled, and blued for three mortal hours, and
then there was a huge basket of clothes all ready to go on the
line.

"Now, ma'am," said this priceless treasure, "if you'll
just show me the clothes- litui, I'll hang these here out."

Mrs. Oleander pointed to two long ropes strung at the lower
end ot the back yard, and Susan Shar])e, hoisting the basket,
set off at once to hang them to dry.

The two old women watched her from the window with ad-
miring eyes.

"She's a noble worker!" at last said old Sally. "She
'minds mo of the time when I was a young girl myself.
Dearie me! It went to my heart to see her rubbing tliom
8h«eta and things ufs if Ibey were nothing."

;::2E unseen- bridegroom.

349

** And I think she's to be trusted, too," said Mrs. Oleander.
"She talks as sharp to that girl as you or i, Sally. I
ehouidii't mind if we had her here for good."

Meantime, the object of all this commendation had marched
across the yard, and proceeded scientifically to hang the gar-
ments on the line. ]>ut all the while tlie keen eyes inside the
green spoetades went roving about, and alighted presently on
something that rewarded her for her hard day's work.

It was a man emerging from the pine woods, and crossing
the waste strip of maishland that extended to the farm.

A high board fence separated the back yard from this waste
land, and but few ever came that way.

The man wore the dress ami had the pack of a peddler, and
a quantity of tow hair escaped from under a broad-brimmed
hat. The brown face was half hidden in an enormous growth
of light whiskers.

" Can it be?" thought Susan, with a throbbing heart. " 1
darsn't speak, for them two old witches are watching from
the window."

Here the peddler espied her, and trolled out, in a rich,
manly voice:

" Mv fallier he. lias lockod the door,
"jMy iiKillicr keeps (lie kf>';
But nciflier bolt-- nor bars shall part
Mj' own tnio luvc and uic."

•'It is himi" gasped Mrs. Susan Sharpe. "Oh, good
gracious I"

'* Good-day to you, my stra]iping lass. J low do you find
yourself this blessed morning?"

Susan Sharpe knew there were listening ears and looking
eyes in the kitchen, and for their bcmtu ho retort* d:

"It's no business of j'ours how J am! Be oil with you!
We don't allow no vagrants here!"

" But r ain't a vagrant, my duck o' diamonds. I'm a re-
epectable Yankee peddler, trying to turn an honest penny by
selling kni(!kknacks to the fair sect. Do liit me in, there's a
pretty dearl You hain't no idee of the lovdy things I've got
m my pack — all dirt cheap, too!"

" 1 don't want nothing," said Mrs. Sus^an Sharpe.

" But youi ma does, my love, or your elder sister, which 1
see *Gm at the winder tliis minute. Now do go, there's a
lamb, and ask your ma if I mayn't come in."

Mrs. Sharpe dropped her basket in a pot and stalked back
to the house.

" It's a peddlor-man," she sakl, crossly, " a- wanting to

1.50

THE ITNSKEN BinirEOKOOTJ,

conu' in. I t'Ai\ him ho couldn't, iinJ it's of no use; unci the
befit thing you (jiii do is to foi the dop;s on him."

*' No, nol" criod Mrs. Oli'atidur, slirillv. '* Lot him come
in. 1 likfi peddlers, (io with her, Sally, and toll the nnui to
come round tf> the c^ti/den gate."

" I'll tell him," 8iiid Hiisiin Sharpe, stalking out again.
" IjPt Sally go and open I he gate."

She manhcvl across the yard and addressed the " peiambu-
latitig merchant."

" You're to go round to tlie fi'ont gate. 'I'liis way. I've
a note for you in my thimble. I'll drop the thimble in your
box."

The first liiilf of Mr?. Bharpe'a s[)pfoli was given for the
benefit of Mrs. Oleander'^ gi't'i-'dy ear.s — thj latter half, hur-
riedly and in a low voice, for hi.s own.

The tagaciou.j peddler nodded, struck up a second stave of
his dittv. and trudged roimd tj the front gate.

Mr.s. Shai-pe fmiishod luuiging out the clothes before she re*
entered the kitchen. When t-he did, there sat the peddler
displaying his Tvaies, and expatiating volubly on their trans-
cendent mei'it.s. And there stood Sally and ]\lrs. Oleander,
devouring the contents of the box with greedy eyes.

It is not in the heait of wom.'ii — country women, particu-
/arly— to resist the faseimitions of the pwldler's pack.

Alrr.. Ole.tndcrand her old .servant were rather of the strong,
minded order; b'.it tiicir eyes gli.srened avariciously, for alt
that, at the display of combs, and brushes, and liaiidkcr-
chiefs, anil liblioiis, iind gaudy print-:, and stockings, and cot-
ton clolh, and all tlic inuumcrabi>'o tiiat peddlers do didight in.

" This red-and-black silk handkerchief, ma'am," the ped-
dler was crying, holding up a gay Kcjuare of silk tartan, " is
<:nie fifty, and dirt cheap at tliat. Seein' it's you, nuv'am,
however, I'll take a dollar for it. Wuth two — it is, by gin-
gcrl Sold three dozens i,n 'cm down the village, arrl got two
dollars apiece for 'em, every one."

" I'll take it at a dollar," said Mrs. Oleander. " Sally,
that piece of brown n:'. iino would just suit you."

"Makes up lovely, ma'am." said the peddler, turning to
Sully, *' only four liollars for the hull piece. Jest feel of it
—SI ft us a baby's t.kin. llallool miss, wluit can I do for
yo' i"

.'his last to Susuu Sharjio, who liad fxt down her baeke^,,
a))d was looking on.

** Nothing," replied Susaii, vrilh asperity.

" Oh, uow, dou t you say that!" exclaimed this j[)ersuMiTe

THE UKSEKN liRIUEOROOM.

151

the

lino

i.'n.
jii-

the

i^'iii-

maii; " >oh do want ijuthiu' — lots o' thinga—T kiu m^ it In
t!iem ail sparklin' eyas o' your'n. WImt juiikojj you wear
grt-eu gluswH. Nee here, I've blue, and whito, and fancy
(iiolors, wilii silver alniddlcs for the noBe. JJo look at 'em —
there's ;i lovol"

Mrs. Olt'atider laughed, and Mrs. iSharpe so far unbent her
SiUdterity as to kiicel doui: and b(;L'"!n rnnaunging the mii'.iel-
hmeoiiri articles.

I'ho peddler'ri quick eye ne\er hft; licr hands; and svhrn ho
lioiiid the tiny click of something failitig, an intelligent fla.sh
fchi)t froiu him to the obnoxious green gla.-si 6.

"1 want a thimble," buid Mrs. >Sharpe, wilh phhgm.
"I've lost mine. How much do yru ask for these here,
mister?"

" Three cents apiece."

Sii.san paid down the three cents, pocketed the brass thim-
ble, and slowly rose.

"Ko more to sell to-day," said the peddler, bundling up
with celerity. " So you won't take the brou ti. ma'am? Sorry
wc can't make a trade; but Til run up a-;, in Lo-niorrnw with
a new lot, and I've no doubt we can strike a baigain. <iood-
morni ng, ladies."

Witli wiiich Mr
away, singing. Old Peter Ii't him out, and locked the gate
after, and watched him out of .«ight. The ji Idler ceased his
song the moment he was out of hearing, struck int'i the wood«
the instant ho was out of sight, and Hinging his ])aek on the
griiHS, tore it open.

Ife had not long to ieareh — Mrs. .Sharpu's ta^ni^^hl' 1 old
tliimble was consj)icuous enough among his glistenins' :.cw
oneH. J To lishful it np, pf)ked cut the crumpled bit of j ajicr.
and slowly read it through. When read, ho tore it into lif;y
morsels, and S(;attored them in a white shuwer nil about.
M'lien, with knitted brows and compressed li]>i, he sat un<l
thought and thought for a full hour.

Meanwhile, matters went on smoothly behind him. Mis.
Sharpe, having tinisheil the wushing, and ([uite won tlie hearts
of the two old women by her workiuiudike manner, jiivparod
lier patient's dinner, and brought it up.

On this 0(!ca.-!io(i Mrs. Olciuider undertook to accomp.iny
her. They found that refraetory patient at her usual })Ost —
the window — ga^dng with drciimy, em|)ly eyts over the cease-
less sea.

.Susan Shiirpo was strictly on her guard; her austere face
Buver uuboutj and Molliu took her cue ouce more.

Peddler shouldend his pack and trudged

152

THE UNSEEN BRIDEGROOM.

"Here's yonr dinner nii^s," eho said, briofly: "is there
anything I can do for yon? '

'* Nothing," replied Mollie, sullenly. " Only leave me
alone. J never want to uee t'iilit'r of your ngly old' faces."

She tamed her back upon them as she t-poke, and never
turned round until they had ({uitted the room.

" She's a little imp, if there ever was a little im)) yet," said
Mrs. Oleander, spitefully. "Does she always treat you like
that?"

" Worse, mostly," said the imperturbable Susan; " but, la!
I don't mind; I'm used to 'em."

" Do you think she'll ever get better?'*

" I think it's very likely, ma'am," respondwl Mrs. Sharpe.
*' Your cross ones are always the likeliest. But, of course, I
can't say."

All that long afternoon Mollie was left quite alone. Mrs.
Sharjje never came jiuar her. This inditlerence on the jiart of
the nurse quite disarmed Mrs. Oleander's suspicions. If she
had any wish to curry favor with her son's patient, or help
her to escape, surely slie would not sit there in the kitchen,
hemming her new silk handkerchief, all the while. That was
what Susan did, however, and the weary, weary hours of the
warm, sunny day wore blankly on to poor, lone Mollie.

The horrible stillness of the place seemed driving lier mad.
The endless monotony of the waves r'lling up on the beach
was growing unendurable. ^I'he wild waste of sparkling
waters, ending in the low horizou line, wearied her eyes like
the sands of tlie desert.

** I shall lose all the Hi tie reason I ever had if I am kept in
this howling de^^olation mir !i longer," she said, pressing her
hands to her throbbing temjtles. *' Oh! to shut out this
mocking sunshine — to lose sight of this dreary waste, where
no living thing comes! Oh, to get away from thalhoriible
sea! If 1 could only die and enditalll lint I live on, and
live on where others would he hapf»ier and find death."

Slie sighed wearilv, and looked acioss at the radiant western
sky, gorgeous with the coming siuiset.

" What did that wf)man mean? Did she mean aiiything?
Yes, 1 am sure she did, and she has come In re to ht Ij) me to
escape. Oh, Heaven have pity, and ^rant me freedom onoe

more!"

She clapped her hands and sat tlieie like one out of kerself,
while the moments wore en. Pur()le and gold made the west-
3rn sky luminous with glory, and when the gorgeous llames
were at thoir brightest, unJ the sea turning to a lake oi

THE UNSEEN' BRIDEGROOM.

153

blood-red fire, a little white bf>at, with a blue pennant flying,
shot out of the red light and drifted close to the shore.

Mollie fixed her eyes oti ihis tiny skill' — why, she could not
Jiavo told. Boats passed and repassed often enough, but sel-
dom so close to the shore. The beauty of the little bark at-
tracted her, nestling as it did like a white dove on the water,
and that fairy azure banner flying.

A solitary figure sat in the boat, his face turned her way;
but the distance was too great for her to distinguish that face.
A word in white letters she could see on the blue flag; but
agnin the distance was too great for her to distinguish. She
sat and watched and watclio<J, until the opening of the door
startled her. She turned round and saw Susan Sharpe — this
time alone.

" Look there I" said Mollie, obeving a sudden impulse;
'■' did you ever see anything so pretty?"

The nurse looked — bent her brows and looked again. Her
face flushed — she caught her breath.

" Who is the man?" she aske<l. hurriedly, lowly.

" 1 don't know," in the t;amo breathless way. " He is
watching here — but the disfance is so great. Oh, nurse — "'

She did not finish the sentence, but with hands clasped and
lips parted, stood looking imploringly in the woma?i'a face.

" Wait a minute," said Mrs. Susan Shurpe; " there is no
one on the watch this time, thank the Lord I Mrs. Oleander's
down with the toothache."

She left the room — was abso-nt in her own two or three min-
utes — then returned with a pocket telescope in her hand.

" Try this," she sfiid, rjuietlv; " it's small, but it's power-
ful."

She put it in the girl's hand. Mollie turned eagerly to the
window — the boat and the man were near enough now. The
word on the blue I'ag was lloj)"; the face of the man was still
toward her, true as the m edle to the north star. With the
first look she recognizc*d it. A low cry of amaze, and she
(lroj){»ed the gla8«, and stood all trembling with the sudden
joyful shock.

For it was the face she had sighed for, day-time and nigh*;
time — it was the man she loved. It was Hugh Ingolow.

CnAPTER XXL

MRS. SHARl'F. DOES HER niTY.

" YoLT know that man, raisf;?" Mrs. Sharpe said, ineifablj
calm^ stooping to pick up the glass.

154

THE UNSKEN BIIIDEGKOOM.

Mollio tuniod to her with eyes wild and wide.

" I l\now him — yes. And you — Oii, for pity's suko, suy
you know hiui, tool"

" [low on etirtli can I say so until I've seen him?" said
Mrs. Sharps^ poi?in;if li'.-r glass and (;la|i[)iiig her eye to it, ono
hand over the other, ai'ter the fashion vf tlie sex.

tSJin took u lonif look.

'-' Well:-"' Molli.; pan fed.

Mr.^. Susan Sharjic turned to lier with a sin;,'ular smile— a
sniili; that made luminous the sallow faeo and ^'loriiied the
green speetacles.

Just then the stairs creaked under a cautious, ascending
tread.

" It's fSally," said Mrs. Shavpe, not moving a muscle.
" Eat your supper, and keep your eyes (>IT ihe window if she
comes iu. Kii'i) uj) heart, and think of the word on the blue
banner— hope. "

8he turned awaya:id abru])tly opened the door as she spoke.
There stood old Sally, with the eyes of a watohing eat.

" Oh, dear mel" exclaimed the ancient handmuidenof Mrs.
Oleander, very mur;li di;(;om|)(>seil by this abrupt prot;eediug
" How you do startle a body with your (juick ways! Is Mrs.
Oleander in here?"

" No," sail Su^an. " IIow could Mrs. Oleander be here
when I left her, live minutes ago, half crazy with toothache?"

" Well, she left the kitchen after you, and came up, and I
thought she might have drop[)ed in to see tiie young wom-
an," libbed Sally. " How is she?"

" Suppose you drop iu and see for yourself," responded the
nurse, provoked into being pert to her elders. " Miss Dane,
here's a visitor for you."

Mollie turned round from the table, where she sat taking
her evening meal.

" 1 don't want you or your visitors, Mrs. Sharpe, if that be
your name," said the irascible patient. " "i'ou're all a set of
old tal)!)y cats together, aiul if you don't clear out, I'll lling
something at your head!"

She bounced from her chair as she spoke and brandished the
tea-put.

VVitii a howl of dismay, old Sally turned tail and iUd in-
(^ontiiionfjy. .Ju-",t wailing to ext'liange one approving glaiu^o
with her put'ont, the nuroe tli.inght it prudent tf) folhuv her
example.

TJiis liltlf! incident had one r-alutary eri-rl. U frightened
'5ally out of her feeble old .vits, confirming, as it did. Dr.

THE rXREEN ]5UII)^•GR00^r.

llio

Guy's fablo of the poriodiciil fits of marlnoss to wiiioh the
young lutly was prorio. She rc'latc;d to hur mistress, in slirill
falsetto, what hail occur red.

" And if ever J go near tiie crazy little huKsy again, as lon^f
as «Ir's under this roof," concluded Sally, wildly, " I'm a
DutchmanI"

" Weren't you friglitened?" Mrs. Oleander asked, turning
to the nurse.

" Oil, not much!" said the serene Susan. " I'm used to it,
you know, i coidd have dodged if she had heaved the tea-
]wt. She takes them tantrums once or twice u day."

MoUie spent the ev( ling alone, of course, but in despair no
longer. Hope had planted her shining foot on tlie threshold
of her heart, and for the time she coulil fo-'get she was the
most miriciable wife of Dr. fdeander, in the face of freedom.
And U'lgh Ingelow was near, and she 1ov(h1 Hugh. Oh,
if she had never refused him — l))avest, noblest heart that
ev'er beati the most gener()us gentleman the Creator ever
niiide!

Alone MoUie sat—alone, but lonely no longer; for yonder,
drifting lazily iiito the netting tide, the sunset glovviug above
and around it, iloaled the snow-white i^kill. Jn the amber
mist iluttered the banner of blue — the l)anner of hope — and
there, lounging easily, with his face tinned to her, was the
m.in she loved, iiandt^ome Hugh I lier beloved — her darlingi

" And, (»hl that I were by his side," Mollie exclaimed, in
her rhaj)-;ody, " never, never to leave it again."

Solitude a«d imprisonment had done this willful chil',! some
gooil, you see. 'J'hey had taught her to think — to know her-
s.lf. She never could be the same crude, madcap ilollio
ag;i:in.

The last, low, yellow gleam died out of the sunset — slowly
crept uj) the twilight, 2)alely, gemmed with stars. A round,
reij moon showed its crimson disk above the silvery iiorizon
li/ie, whitening as it aro;;e, until it trailed a tlootl of crystal
r:idian(;e over the purple bosom of the slei'ping sea. And still
Millie sat tliere, watihing the sliining stars creep out, and
still the fairv bark lloaJed lazily with the ilrifting current.
She i;ould have sat there and watched him " >rever — her noble,
gallant Hugh! Hut by and by, as the night wind grew chill,
tli(* little white bnul glided away arid di-^;ippi'ured.

The entrance of iMts. Sliarpo, with her night-himp, aroused
I^-Iollic from iier tmnee. She turned eagerly round to greet
her. T^'ext to Hugli Ingelow, her hope now was in this mys"
teriouB woman.

THE UNSEEN BRIDEGROOM.

Mrs. Sharpe closed the door carefully after her, set the lamp
on the table, dropped the curtain, and then turned her face
to Mollie. One look at that face told Mollie something had
oecurrod.

*' What is it?" she asked in a breathless whisper.

And Susan Sharpe, bending down, whispered hurriedly;

" Doctor Oleander is here."

Mollio barely repressed a cry. Susan Sharpe caught her, m
alarm, by the shoulder.

" Hush! Avo YOU crazy? Not a word. Yes, he's down-
stairs — came half an hour ago. J)on't look so frightened — he
won't trouble you this time."

" This time," repeated Mollie, noticing the emphasis.
" What do you mean?"

" That he was only run down to see how wo get along, and
to tell us to bo all ready for an early start. Wo are going to
Cuba."

" We?"

" Yes," with a grim smile and nod, " we. You, and me,
and Doctor Oleander. "

'' Oh, nurse—"

" Hush! Jlear mo out — I can stay but a minute. lie is
going to take you to Cuba. Ilis affairs are nearly arrangcJ.
He means to start on Friday night — this is Tuesday. A
schooner will be in waiting at tlie wharf, in the village yon-
der. I am to go with you as attendant. lie is very muck
pleased with me, and J have consented."

Mrs. Sharpe laughed softly.

" Hut, nurse—"

" Yes, yes; be still. We won't go — be sure of that. ITo
wanted to come up to see you, but 1 told him ho had better
not, if ho wanted to have you quiet when the time came. So
he goes olf again to-night without troubling you."

Mollie clasped her hands in thankfulness.

" fl >w can I thank yaw? Ilo^v good you are!*'

" Thank me by going straight to bed and sleeping like a
top. Let the thought that it is likely to bo your last night
under this accursed roof be your lullaby. And now I must
go."

Mollie held up her rosy lips — tempting and sweet — and the
woman stooped and kissed her.

"You are my best friend," Mollie said, simply. "God
bless you!"

The woman smiled.

" Nay, the kiss and the blessing, if meant for your best

had

THE UNSEEN KRIDEGROOM.

frlentl, should have been kept for Iluyh Ingelow. 1 but obey
his oi-ders. "

Mollie turned riidianlly red. Mra. Susan Sliarpo, with a
Bigaiticant smile ut her own keennoiisi, imrueuiateiy quilt'jd tho
room.

Dr. Oleiinilor did not disturb Mollie. lie departed half an
hour after Mrs. hhariie (juittid lier for the night. 'J'iie ac-
count his mother and Sally gave of the nurse made him dis-
])oscd to trust her.

" 1 will take her witli me," ho tliought, " since she is so
trustworthy. It would be too horribly dreary for Mollie wilh-
oiit one comjianion of her own sex."

So he ollered liberal terms, and Mrs. Sharpo cloaod with his
oft'er readily enough.

" I'd as lief go to Cuba as not," she said, in her sedate way.
*' One place is the same as another to me. J5ut it's very soon
to be ready."

" Never mind," roplied the doctor. " We'll find dry-goods
stores in Havana, 1 dare say, and, meantime, I'll provide
some ready-made things from New York."

Dr. Oleander departed very wtdl satisfied. He would have
liked very much to see Mollie, but his approach always threw
her into such a fury, and he wanted her kept as quiet as pos-
sible until the hour of departure.

" I'll have to res(>rt to tho vulgar alternative of chloroform,
1 dare say," he thought. " bhe'll make a fight for it at the
last. I can (piiet her, however."

And so Dr. Oleander went back to New York without one
suspicion that his Jiew nurse was })laying him false.

Within an hour after breakfast, the j)eddler presented him-
self next morning. Again Mrs. CHeander and Sally were
vividly interested, and again each purchased stauething.
Again Mrs. Sharpc said slie wanted ni)thing, and again t^he
knelt down to examine tho contents of the pack. The peddler
])resried his goods, Mrs. Sharpe obdurately declined. He ])er-
sisted, Mrs. Sharpe grew angry.

" Take these here gloves, then, for massy sake!" cried tho
peddler in desperation, " ef yer won't take notliiu' else.
They're tho richest of silk gloves, and, bein' it's you, oidy
fifty cents. Just you feel of 'em."

Ho looked Mrs. Sharpe full in tho face. She took the
gloves — a slip of paper was to be felt inside — a moment's de-
mur, then she purchased and put them in her pocket.

The peddler departed; Mrs. Sharpo went upstairs, and drew
forth the slip of paper. There were but three lines:

1,-i.S

THK UNSEEN BUinKGEOOM.

" Meet mo this nffcrnoon at two. I '.vill ho waiting in tliei
woods near the shoio, wluM-e you saw my boat ycrflerday. 1
know ho Wii.^ witli yon laat night."

Mrs. Sliarpo read tliis, destroyed it, and ^at runiinalinff.

" What if they won't let me go? lint no, tliey wouldn't
daro ivoej) mo a })ris'oner, and if it canio to lldticulTs," smiling
to herself, '* I eould heat the thi'ce of tin in — poor old hodiet;!
I'll go by strategy, if })0s.sible — by main force, if necesiiary.
But I'll go."

l''ivo minutes longer the nurse sat thinking. 'J'hen she
arose, walked down-stairs, and comphiined drearily of a t-:lioi;k-
ing bad headache.

Airs. Oleander reeomminided a wonnin's cure — a cup of
strong tea and going to l)ed. JUit Su.^an Shar[»e ^luok her
head.

" Tea never does mo no good, and going to bed only makes
me worse. I suppose it's .^taving in-doors so much. I ain't
used to it. I always take a svalk every afternoon. I'll wait
and see if it gets better. If it don't, I'll go and take a litMo
walk along the shore. A mouthful of fresli air will do mo
good."

Mrs. Sharpe waited accordingly, but the headache did not
get better. On the contrary, it grew so much worse that
when tiie one-o'clo(!k dinner was ready, she was unable to eat
a naouthful. iiho lay with her head on the table in a sort of
stupor.

" 1 think you had better take a walk," .said ]\rr.s. Oleander,
who was not an iil-natured old wonnin on ttie whole. " I
don't want you to be laid up on our hands."

Mrs. Sliarpe glanced at Iho clock; it wanted a (juarter of
two. She lose at once.

" I think I must, or I'll be fit for nothing for a week. I'll
go and put on my things."

In live minutes, Susan Sharj)e walked out of the garden
gate and down to the shore. Old I'eter closed the gate,
watched her out of sight, and went back to the house, unsus-
pectingly.

Mrs. Sharpy sauntered slowly over the sandy beach to the
strip of dark woods, skirted them, to avoid being seen from
the windows of the house, and called:

" Mr. Ingelow."

" Here," answered a voice, and the peddler emerged from
i'he trees and stood beside her. " You're a treasure, Mrs.

THE UNSEEN BKTDEnnOOV.

159

kXisan Sharpo," said the pcddlor — " worth your wciylit in
crown diamonds. How is she?"

" As well as cun be expected. A good deal the better for
so'^iti',' you from her window laHh evenin;:j. "

" 1 Huw you both sviitidjitig. 8he knows I liavo come to
rc.-K'tio hor?"

" Of course. She is a woman."

" IJot's she recognize yon?''

" No," with a huigh. " >She called me her best friend last
night. If she osily i\newl"

" She would still call you her best friL-nd, perhaps. Your
' niaku-up ' i^ a good one, Saraii, since she has failed to re(!og-
ai/e \ou. Wha; brought tljo doctor?"

tSuci'an Sharpe britlly told him.

Ml'. Ingeloiv whi<th'd expressively.

" So 80011? But [ have thought so. He is not the man tc
xvait. Well, we must be ahead of him, Sarah."

Sarah nodded.

*' Yes— how?"

" 1 have it all arranged. Miss Dane must escape to-night.
Look at this."'

He pointed to a basket at his feet.

Mrs. Sharpe lifted the cover, and saw two lunii^.s of raw
beef.

" U'ell?" she asked, wonderingly.

" ' A sop for Cerberus,' " laughed Hugh Ingolow: " a sup-
per for the dogs. They'll never want another after."

" Wiuit do you moan?"

" Tho moat is poisoned; there is strychnine enough in these
two pieces to kill a dozen dogs. 1 mean to throw that to
them this evening."

" Jiut how?"

" Over the wall, of course. What's their names? They'll
com ■ when I call them."

" Tiger and Ts'ero. "

" So be it. Tiger and Nero wiil devour the htA and ask
no questions. An hour after they'll be as dead -.^ two door-
nails."

*' Poor lellowt;! But it can't be helped, I su})pose?"

" J suppose not. Save your svnipathv, Sarah. You must
do for tiio thno old folks."

*' Poison them, too?" asked Sarah, grimly.

" Not nriitr'. dust put them to sleep."

*' Indeed! How?"

160

THE UNSEEN BRIDEGROOlf.

Mr. lugelow prorliicetl a little white piipor from his vest
pocket.

" You see this powder?" liolding it up. " Drop it into
the tea-pot this evi^iiitig, and don't drink any of the tea."

The womnn shrunk a little.

" I'm almost afraid, Mr. Ingelow. 1 don't like drugging.
They're old and feeble; 1 daren't do it."

*' You must do it," llw^h Ingelow said, sternly. *' I toll
ycu there is no danger. J)o you take mo for a murderer?"

'' ISio; but there might be a miatai^e. "

'* 'L'here is none. The powder is an opiate; it will harm no
one. They will go to sleep a little earlier, and sleep a little
longer and a little sounder than usual — that is all."

Mrs. 8harpo took the paper, but with evident reluctance.

" I tell you it is all right," reiterated Hugh Ingelow; " no
one is to be murdered but the dogs. Doctor Oleander will
have no scruple about drugging Miss Dane on Friday night,
you will see. The choice lies between her and them. Are
you going to fail mo at the last, Sarah?" sternly.

" No," said the woman. She dropped the little package
in her pocket, and looked him firmly in the face. " I'll dc
it, Mr. Ingelow. And then?"

"And then the dogs will be dead, and the people asleep,
before ten o'clock. At ten I'll bo at the gate; a vehicle will
be waiting down below in the clurn]) of cellars, ^'ou will open
the house door and the garden gate, and let me in. Before
another day we'll be in the city."

•' So be it. And now," said ilns. Sharpe, drawing her shawl
around her, " I must go. I came to walk ofT a bad head-
ache; I find it is gone, so I hud blotter return."

" Good-bye, and God speed you"' said Hugh Ingelow.

Mrs, Sharpe walked back to the house. Old Peter admittetl
her, and all three were solicitous; about her hearlache.

" Much better," Mrs. Sharpe said, quietly. " I knew that
walk would cure it."

All the rest of the afternoon she helped old Sally to manu-
facture pies. Tea-time came, and, ever willing, she volun-
teered to make the tea.

" Do so," said old Sally. " I can't abear to take my hands
out o' dough when they're into it"

The tea was made, the supper-table set, and then Mrs.
Sharpe bt'gcj. d permission to make herself a cup of coffee.

"1 find it better for ray head than tea. It will cure me
quite, 1 know."

Mrs. Oleander assented, and the coffee was made. The

The

THE UNSEEN r.IlIDEGKOOM.

161

fjHartet sat down to siippor, and Susan Shar])e felt an inward
quaking aa bIio watched them drink ihn (fa. Mrs. Oleander
complained that it wad weak; Sally said it must have boiled^
it had such a nasty ta^'tc; but they drank it for all that.

Supper over, Mrs. Sliarpe brought up her patient's. But
she carried her coHee, and left the doctored tea behind.

*' Wo are to escape to-night," t-ho said to Mollic. " Bo
ready. Wo will start at ten. Don't ask mo to explain now.
1 feci nervous and am going down."

Before an hour had elapsed the drug began its work. Mrs.
Oleander nodded over her knitting; Sally was drowsy over her
dishes; Peter yawned audibly before the lire.

"J don't know what makes me so sleepy this evening,"
Mrs. Oleander said, gaping. " The weak tea, 1 suppose.
I'eter, close up early to-night; 1 think I'll go to bed."

"J'll let the dogs loose now," said Peter. " I'm blamed
sleepy myself.'*

The old man departed. Very soon the hoarse barking of
the dogs was heard as they scampered out of their kennel.
Peter returned to find the two old women nodding in com-
pany.

" You had better go to bed," suggested Mrs. Shariie. " I'm
going myself. Gowl-night."

She quitted the kitchen. Mrs. Oleander, scarcely able to
keep her eyes open, rose up also.

" 1 will go. I never 'elt so sleepy in my life. Good-nighty
Sally."

* (iood-night," sait. Bally, di'owsily. " I'll go after you."

Before the kitchen clock struck nine, sleep had sealed the
eyelids of Mrs. Oleander and her servants more tightly than
they were ever sealed before. And out in the yard, stilt" and
stark, lay Kero and Tiger. They had eaten the poisoned beof,
and, like faithful sentinels, were dead at their postti.

CHARTER XXII.

A MOONLIGHT FLIT'^ING.

The big Dutch clock on the kitc^nen mantel struck nine.
The silence of the grave reigned within the house. With tho
first clear chime Mrs. Susan Shurpe rose from the bed on
which she had thrown herself, dressed and prepsired for action.

She drew the curtain and looked out The night was
celestial. A brilliant, full moon flooded the dark earth and
purple sea with silvery radiancej the sky was cloudlesi — blue

IGS

THE U:NSE£X IJRIDEOROOil.

es Mollie Dane's eyes, tlie etara beyond numljor, big and
bi'idifc.

A f&iiifc sea-breez3 just stirred the svvavini^ trees; Iho surf
broke in .. iliiil, nionutoiious vviisli on tiie i-;li'iiing strand; even
tho dreary Long Island farni-honso and its desolate surnumd-
ia<j;s were traruitiginvd and gloriiied hy tiie radiant moonlight.

Mr3. Snsaii Shaipe vvas an inestiijiiiblo vvouuia in her way,
but neitlier a poet nor an artist. 8ho gave a complacenL
^liiuce at earlh, and sky, and water, thani\fnl tliat the benign
iniluenees, in the way of weather, were at work to aid ihern.

" It's a very nice night," ninrmured ilr.s. Susan Sharpo.
"Couldn't be better if tliey tried ever bo mucli. It would
have been dreadful awkward if it raini tl. How still the house
is— like a tomb' Dear m(>,, 1 iiope there was no liarm done by
that drug! f niu.sl, go and get ready at onee/

But just at that moment she heani a sharp, shrill, pro-
longed whittle. She paused. An instant more and a man
vaulted lightly over the high board fence.

" Lor'!" said Mrs. Sharpe, " it it isn't him already! f
hope the dogs are done for."

it seemed as if tlu-y were, for, as she looked and listened, i«»
considerable trepidation, the man approached the lioiiso in
swift, swinguig stri les. Of course, it was tlie peddler. Mrfi.
SJuupe threw uii her window and })rojected her head.

"Mr. Ingeloa!"

*' Ilailoo!"

The man halted and looked up.

" Where are tiie dogs?"

" In thedogish elysium, I hope. I)ec;d and dcie for, Sarab
Come down, like ;i good girl, and let me in."

" I'm not sure that they're fast asleep."

" Oh, ihoy are." said Hugh Ingelow, confidently, '' if you
^dniinisteriKl tiie drug and they drank the tea."

" 1 did," eaid Mrs. Sharpe, "and they drank tho tea and
went to bed awful sleepy. If you think it's safe, I'll gc
down."

" All right. Come along."

Mrs. Sharpo lowered the sash and hurried down stairs,
liolts clattered, the lock creaked, but the sleepers in the house
made no sign. A secojui o* two and the nocturnal marauders
were logother in the hall.

" I told you it was safe," said Mr. Ingelow. " You are a
woman in a thousand, Siirah, to manag.' so cleverly! Now',
Uutnj for MisB Dane I Upsluiis, is it? Do you go in lii'tin,

•! T

:«

THR UXSEEN r. ({I DEC, ROOM.

16:i

Sarah; biitJon't tell lior I'm eoinipg. f wiint tho pleasure
of ;'iiri)riHiM<,' Ler myself."

Surali smiled, uiul unlocked Mollic's door. The p;irl was
sitting with ati aii.vioii-5, lirftonin;^, expc'tunt faco. She roao
U|) and turned around at the op'jiiing of the door.

"Is it you, nurse?' Oh, I have been so uneasyl What
noise was — "

She never finisihed tho sentence — it died out in. an inarticu-
late cry of joy. For llii^^di Ingelow, his disguise torji ollf^
stood in the door-way, smiling and isereue as the god of safety
himaeif.

Mollie Dane was a creature of impulse— she never slopped
to think. One faint, suppressed cry, one bound forward, and
she was in the young man's arms.

" Ilughl Jlughl Jlughl" she cried, hysterically, clinging
to him, " save me! smtc maV

II. was the lirsfc time she had ever o»11(m1 him other than Mr.
Ingelow. The young mau's ui'ms closed around her as if they
never would open again.

'* AFy darling, I have come to i»ve you!"

It had all passwl in live seconds, but that ?hort interval was
long enough for Mollio's womaidy instincts to tnke the alarm.
Sh(i disengaged heratdf, red.dening violently. What woidd ho
think of her!* and Mrs. SliarjH? there, too!

" They have driven mo nearly out of mr senses!" she saiii*
with a sort uf c;hoking sob. " i don't kr.ow what I am doing
half iJie time, and I was so glad to see u friend's familiar face,
Mr. Ingidow. "

Tho blue eyes — the eyes of a very child — lifted theniselveg
wistfully, doprecatingly, shiniiv in tears. Hugh Ingelow waa
touched to the core of Ins iieart.

" I know it, my poor iitcivT girl! It is enough to drive any
one out of his senses. liut le^ us see if wo can't outwit the
crafty Oleander. Put your bou lot on and come."

Midlie pau8«d sudderdy. an; looked first at him, then at
Mrs. Susan SiiarjK*, theti back again.

"Well, Miss Dane," said Mr. Ingelow, "you're not afraid
to come with me?"

"Afraid;-'" the blue eyes turned ii{wn him with an elo-
jjiient i,daiioe. " Oli, no! JJut she — Mrs. Shaipe — "

"Is ooming, too, of course, to play prnj)riety," laughed
Mugh. " Mra. Sliarpe," tumii/g to that demure lady, " jmic
on your fixings and lt;t us fly!"

Mrs. bhtrpe nodded, and turned to go into lier own roooa.

1G4

THE UNSEEN Bril DEO ROOM.

" There's Miss Dane's things," ^ho sdiJ, pointing to the
pegs on wlilch they hung. " I'll bo back in two minutes."

Mr. Ingelow took them down, and tenderly wnipped the
long nuuule about the slender, giiiidi figure.

"Are you sire you will be warm eiiough, Mullie? — 1 beg
your pardon — Mias Dane.";

" Aiu call me Moilii-I" the eloquent- glance once more.
" How good you are to me, Mr. Ingeiowl"

Hugh Ingelow winced aa if she had stabbed liim.

" I'm a wretch — a brute — a heartless monster I ^J'hat's
what I am, MoUie, and you'll think so, to), some dav — that'.s
the worst of it. Don't wear that puzzled, friyhttned face, my
■larlingl Heaven knows 1 would die for youl"

She took his hand and kissed it. Before either had time to
speak, of course Mrs. Sharpe must happen in and spoil all.

But Hugh lngel(>w, strange to say, Jooke<l raihtr relieved.
His face had flushed hntly under that innocent kiss, and then
grown deathly pale. Jle was very white when Mrs. Sharpe
came in, and Mrs. Sharpe's sharp eyes saw it. The green
j^lassrs were gone.

" You look lit to die," observed Mrs. Susan Shar]>c, eying
him. " What's the matter?"

Mollie looked at him, then turned away. Had she been
forward? Was he mortilied?

She colored painfully, then slowly petrified to marble. JUit
the young artist only laughed.

" Pining for you, Mrs. Sharpe. 1 only exist in the light of
your eyes. J^y the way, where's the green spectacles?"

" In my pocket. Come!"

Mollie had knotted her bonnet strings with nervous, trem-
Ming lingers. She was thrillirig through with mortification.
She had been bold, and she had disgusted his fastidious
iaste, and she had not meant it. She was so gratefid, and
she loved him so dearly, but she never wculd ohend m that
way again.

Mr. Ingelow ofTered her Ir ■ arm, but she drew back.

"1 will follow you," sIk said, in a low voire, shrinking
painfully into herself.

He said no more, but led the way. Mrs. Sharpe went after.
Miss Dane last. Ko sound broke [Iv. slillne.'-- of the house.
They might have been in their beds for all the noise they
made.

" I hojK) it's all right," Mrs. Sharpe said, with u very un-
aasy face; " but I feel seared."

*'YtHi needn't, then," answered Mr. Ingelow; " tho^'xo

(

THE UNSEEN BRTDEGKOOM.

1G5

safe enough. They'll be all alive in two or three hours from
now, ani] will never know what ailed them. Save your sym-
pathy, Su.san, for time of need."

'1 hny went down-stairs, out-of-doors, into the cool, bright
nioonlip;ht. Mollie Dane drew a lanfr, long breath of uu-
Rpi'akable thaukfulnc.vs as she breathed the fres-.h, free air onc«
more.

" Thank Heaven," she thought, " and — Hugh Ingelowl"

They reached the garden gate; it stood wide; they passed
out, at)d the artist closed it securely after him.

" ' Safe biuil, safe find'.' Now, Miss Dane, take my arm,
and lit us see you step out. I liave a trap waiting down the
roail. Neat tiling this i.i the way of moonlight, isn't it?"

Mollie essayed to laugh. He had not waited for her to de-
cline his prolVered arm this time — he had taken her hand and
drawn it securely through.

"How does freedom feel, Mollie, after a week or two of
close imi)ris()nment?"

'* Very delightfid. You must sufTer the imprisonment
first, Mr. Ingelow, before you can realize it."

" 1 wouM prefer trying to reah'ze it without. Ah, my
worthy Doctor Oleander, I think I have outwitted you nicely!"

" 1 liave been so bewildered, and so flurrieil, and so stunned
from the first," said Mollie, " that 1 can not properly c;)m-
prehend anything, but I should like to hear how you have
brought all tin's about."

" Why," said Mr. Ingelow, " Mrs. Sharpe told mo."

" Yes; but you sent Mrs, Sharpe hero in the first place; she
told me that. Hi'.w did you know I was here?"

"Ah! thereby hangs a tale — too long to tell at this sharp
pace. Wait until to-mor'-ow, Miss Mollie. There's our
vehicle yonder. I might tell you by the way, but the road is
li)ng, and the night is chill, and 1 am to bo charioteer. I
coiiiiln't do proper justice to the subject, 3'ou perceive; and
besides, 1 want you to cuddle up and go to sleep. Hero wo
are. J^ile in, Mrs. Sharpe; the back seat, if you ])lease.
Mis3 Dane and 1 will sit in front and shield you from the in-
clemency of the weather, "

" Much obliged to you, sir," Mrs. SlKir[)e said, dryly, obey-
ing orders, nevertheless.

"I'll sit back v'ith Mrs. Shurjie, " said Mollie, sensitively
shrinking.

" Y'oti'll do nothing of the BorC" retorted Mr. Ingelow,
Huihorilatively. " A'ou'll do precisi !y as I tell you! You and
Mrs. Sharpe are both in my ])ower, and if you don't keep uu-

IfiO

THE UXSEEN I'.IMDEGKOOir.

common!}- civil arni doeilo, I'll run off with the pair of yen
and stiu't a fecr;i;;lioI There, ma'am, you're comfortable, I
hops,'? X;»«', tho h^o.incr j'ou ^'o to .sleep Iho better."'

Ho hclpod Mis. Sharpe into tiie back seat of the two-aeateil
buggy, wiaiiped her up, and then assisted Mollie up in front.

" A splenilid nig'it for our business," he said, getting in
beside her and gathering u{) the reins. " IS'ow then, off we
go, over ' brake, bush and sfivur,' and good-bye to Doctor
Oleander and the trip to C'idjal"

Obedience was not very hard in this instance. Miss Dane
snugged up nice and close t > Mr. Ingelow, and felt very com-
fortable indeed. As I'or him, Uiere was a glow of happiness
about his heart like the halo round a full moon. They would
have been 'atisti'Ml, just then, to sit side by side and drive
along in a glory of moonshine forever and ever.

*' Where are we going?" Mollio asked once.

" To the citv— to New York."

" Oh! I know. But whore?"

•' Wherever you please. Miss Mollie. That will be Mr.
Walraven's, 1 presume?"

"But—"

Mollie hcsiiated.

" What?" he said, in surprise. " Don't you want to go
homer '

*' Very much, Mr. Ingelow. It isn't that."

" Well, what is it, then?"

" Mr. Ingelow, you'll think me very silly, I dare say; but 1
don't want to go up there in a mutter-of-fact sort of way at
day-break to-morrow morning, in tliis double buggy, with you
and Mrs. h'harpe. I should like — how shall 1 say it?— a little
C02t/> de fJu'dirr /"

" Oh! I uiulerstanfl," Mr. Ingelow laughed. " It is quite
natural. I should like it my.-x'lf. And, by Jove! I've got a
capital idea."

Mollio looked up brightly.

" Oleander has given out tliat he is going to Cuba — he
makes no secret of one half the story, you see — and Mr. Wal-
raven gives a farev/cll dinner in honor of the mournful occa-
sion, on Thurmiay — lo-morx'ow eviiuing. Tli« jiarty is Hclect
— very — on your account, you know — only Sir Ifoger T'ra-
Jenna. Walraven's lawyer, Hindonyx, and myself. Now,
when we're all assembled, di.scu.-^ing yoin* absence, aa I'll tako
care we .-hall bi , and Oleande;- is telling lies by tho yard, do
you appar like a thunder-el sp iuiil transfix him. Guilt will
De confounded, innocence trnim|thanfly vindicated, the virtu-

TET. CN8EEN HIIIDEOROOM.

1G7

oufl mado happy, and the curtiiin will go down umiil f;re-
mendous appluude, Kb, her 'lo y u like the style of thiU?"

Mollie liiiight-d ^rlcefuUy. lIulMuiiu'd thing thai, she was,
a lew nioiu'Mls of breezy frcdoiu, bv the side of Iho nniri tihe
Idved, made her ail her o!d, ha[)p";, niid;:hicf-lc>ving Sflr ugain.
in the i'lVtit bright ip.trkle and inloxieiition, she could (jiiite
forget that av/Tul fact that i^ho wiis J)r. Olcaudet-'s wedded
wife.

"Splendid! Oh! what fun it will bo to ace him! And
such glorious reveiige, too!"

" Serionslv, Moliie," said Mr. Ingelow, " he deserves to be
punirfhed for hi- unmanly trick."

" And he fch.ill he!" Mollie cried, her eyea sparkling.
" He shall be, if all the world knows the story! What care
J? I will have my revenge on the man I hate — on the man
who has wronged me beyond reparation. And then I can go
uway whore no one will know me, and make my own way
through the world, as I did before I ever came to isew York. '*

Hugh Inyelow look'd at her. Her eyes were alight, her
cheeks Hushed, her wh 'le fuce eager, angry, and aglow.

"Wronged you beyond reparation!" he slowly repeated.
" Mollie, what do you mtan!-'"

" I mvan," Mollie paseionately cried, " that 1 am liis wife.
And f will never forgive hiiu for makiiig mo that— never,
never, if it wern nty dving dav!"

"Jfiswife!"

'^riie young man lr>okeil at !ier thuiuier-struck.

" Oh! you don't know, "^'ou hadn't heard, of course. It
wasn't this time. I would have murdered him and my>elf tliis
time before he would evi-r lay a ling'r on me. It was before.
You rememlier that ()ther time I was carritil 0(1?"

"Oh!"

It was all Mr. In^^ I.iW paid; but, singidar tt) rehito, ha
looked unutterably relieved.

" He married me then — forced mo to nnirry him — and 1 —
Oh, miserable girl that I am! why (111 T not die a thun-aiul
deatlvj sooner than consent? But J was nuid, and it's (oo lalo
now. Mr. Ifashkigh married us. Yi>n recollect that story he
told at M'.-s. Orand'ij dinner-i>arty;-' Well, I was the masked
heroine of that adventure; but 1 m vcr, never, never thought
(ruy Oleander was the hero. I'd have died, even then, sooner
than become his wife. 1 hojicd it was — I thought it was — "

(She paused abruptly.

" Who?" pouitidly a^ked Hugh Ingelow.

1(J8

THE UJS'SKEN liRIDEfiKOOM.

MoUie stole a Bitleloiig glance froui uuder her sweeping
teshes at the handsomo fuco.

" Some one who loved me as well, and whom I — well, didn't
exactly hiite; and 1 do hat^i Do'Mor Oieamlerl"

"Which i.^ exli't incly naUual; at the iame Liaie wicked, I
suppose. Now, MoUie, don't try to kec)) awake iind talk, be-
cause the journey is long and dreary. Follow Mrs. Sharpy's
example and go to sleep."

lie wrapped her up (iloser; and Mollie, with a delicious
sense of safety, and comfort, and sleepiness, cuddled close iu
her wraps and felt luxuriously happy.

She had slept very little of late. 'J'ear.s had been her nightly
portion, instead of slumber. Now she was happy and at rest;
and the very rush of the swift wind, as they bowled along,
made her drowsy. She leaned her head against his arm and
fell fast asleep.

CHAPTER XXTII.

PRIVATE T H E A T K I f ; A L S .

It was broad day when Mollie awoke, the sun shining brill-
iantly. She started up on her elbow, bewildered, and gazed
around.

She was lying on a lounge in a strange room, and Mrs.
Susan Sharpe was seated in an elbow-chair before her, nodding
drowsily. At MoUie's exclamation she opened her eyes.

" Where are we?" asked the young lady, still bewildered.

" In Mr. Ingelow's f^tudio," responded Mrs. Susan Sharpe.

" Oh, Broadway! Then we are tafo in New York?"

The uproar in the great thoroughfare below answered her
efft'ctuuily. She rose up and walked to one of the windo,v3.
Life was all astir on the noisy ])ave. The crowds coming !i!id

going.

the rattle aiul clatter were unspeakably derghtful.

after the dead stagnation of iaer brief imprisonment.

" How did we come here?" asked Mollie, at length, turning
round. " The last 1 remember 1 was dropping asleep iu the
buggy."

" And you stayed asleep — sound — all the way," re})lied
Mrs. Shar}>e. " You slept like the dead. Mi: Ingelow lifted
you out and carried you u[) here, and you never woke. I was
aslecj), too; but he made no ado about rousing me up. You
were quite atiother matter."

Mollie blushed.

" How soundly I must have slept! What's the hour, I
wonder?"

THE UNSEEN HRIDEGROOM.

" About half past eight."

" Is that uii? And where is Mr. Ingolovv?"

" Gone to get his brrakfiist and semi ih ours. Iladn't yon
better wash and comb your hair, Miss Dane? Here is the
lavatory."

Miss Dane refictihed herself by a cold ablution, and combed
out her bt'autifiil, shining tresses.

As she hung them back, a <|uifik, light stop came Hying up-
stairs', a clear voice sounded, whistling: " i\ly Love is But a
Liissie Yet."

" That's Mr. Tngelow," said Susan Sha'-pe, decisively.

The next instant came a light rap at the door.

" The room is thine own," said Mollio, in French. " Come
in."

" Good-morning, ladies," Mr. Ingelow said, entering, hand-
some and radiant. " Miss JJane, 1 trust you feel refreshed
after voui- journey?"

" And my huig sleep? Yes. sir."

" Atid reudv for breakfast?"

" Quite reaily."

" That is wi'll. for hero it comes."

As he spoke, a colored personage in a white apron entered,
staggering under the weight of a great tray.

" Breakfast for three," said Mi. Ingelow, whipping off the
silver covers. " Set chairs, Sam. Now, then, Indies, I iu-
teiided to breakfast down at the restaurant; hut the tempta-
tion to take my miitinal meal in such fair company was not to
be resisted. I (^ dn't; try to resist it, and — here we arel"

i*dollie sat beside him, too pretty to tell, and smiling like an
angel. At seventeen one niglit is enougli to n)a!<e us as happy
as a seraph. For golden-haired, blue-eyed Moliie earth held
Ufi greater happiness, just then, than to sit by Hugh Ingelow's
sid. and l)ask in the hgiit of his smile.

'* J.)eligbtfuliy suggestive all this, eh?" said the artist, help-
ing his fair neigliiior bountifidly.

And Mollio blushed " celestial, rosy red."

" What comes next?" she asked. " After breakfast — what
then?"

" That is for Mistress Mollie to decide."

" I am not t.u go homo until this evening?"

" Kot if you wisli to give unlucky Oleander his coup dc
grclrc. Poor devil I I pity him, too. If you intend to make
your entree like tho ghost of lianquo at the feast, you can't
appojir, of course, until evening."

*' Must I stay here all day?"

XT')

TRF UNPEFN imiDEOROOM.

" Will it be so very hard?" with an eloquent glance. '* I
shall be hero."

" No, no!" ?,Iollie saitl, h.natily, blushing and laughing.
" It would be light penanec, in any casP; to spend a day here,
after a fortnight down yonder. "What ] mean is, I miglit ini-
jirove the time by giurig to see Miriam."

" If you wait, Miriam may improve the time by coming to
see you."

" Nol What doop she know about your studio?"

" Heaps!" said Mr. Ingelow, coolly. *' It isn't the first
time ladii's have come to my studio."

" J know; but Miriam—"

" It isn't the first time for Miriam, either."

Mollie opened wide her eyes.

" I protest, Mr. Ingelow, I didn't know you were acquainted
with her at ail."

"Which proves you are not an fail of all mv lady ac-
quaintances. But, to solve the riddle, it was Miriam who first
cam« here and put me on your track."

The blue eyes opened wider.

" You see," said Mr. Ingelow, with the air of om; entering
upon a story, " she knew about your aiq)ointment tliat night,
aud was at the place of reiidezvous, all silent and unseen, .^he
saw you go ofT in the carriage with that man, and took it into
her head that something was wrong. She called at Mr. Wal-
raven's that day, and found you were missing— no talc nor
tidings to be had of you. Then, what does she do but come
to mu?"

Mr. Ingelow looked full at the young lady as he spoke, and
once more Mollie was silly enough to bUush.

" I really don't know how it was," j)ursMed Mr. Ingelow,
with provoking deliberation, " but Madame ^liriam had taken
it into her head that I was the man you had gone to meet.
Extraordinary, wasn't it? 8he thought so, however, and was
taken all al)ack to find ni<' quietly piiinting here."

Mollie did not dare to look up. All her saucy ifisomirnice
w;!:S gone. Her face was burning. She felt as thouirh it

would be an infinite relief to sink through the fioor. The
floor not being practicable for the purpose, she stole a look at
Mrs. Sliarpe; but Mi-i. Sharpe sat with the fa,(!e of a wooden
figurr-head, infent o?i the business of eatins; urrl dri/iking,

'* Miriam and 1 1ki,'1 a long and contidcntial talk," the
young artist continued, " and came to the conclusion that
Poctor Oleander wa^ at the bottom of the matter, and that,
wherever you were, you were an unwilling j>risoncr. Of

THE UKSETN UniDEGROOM.

171

coarse, to a gontlcmim of my kni;^ht-t'rrantry, tlnit was
sulliciL'nt to Qro iriy blood. I put hiiice in rest, bucklwl oa
my armor, mounteil my pranoin;,' diar^^'or, and set off to the
o^'re's castlo to rosciio the captive muldenl And for tlie rest,
yoii know it. I came, I ^ixw, I ootKjuered — Doctor Oleuiiderl"

" Whieh meaiiH," Mollic said, trying to hiugh, "you im-

losed iv'l'rs. Sharp^i her:> upon Doctor Oleander as the nurao for

m purpose, and fooled him to the top of his bent. Well,

Mv. Jngelovv, you have gone to a great deal of trouble oa my

account, and I am very much obliged to you."

" Is that all?"

" h that not enough?"

"Hardly. 1 don't labor for such poor pay. As you say, I
have gone to a great deal of trouble, and lost three nights*
sleep running. 1 want something more than ' thank you ' for
all tliat."

Mollio tried to hiugh — all in a (hitter.

" Name your price, then, sir. Though it were half my
kingdom, you shall be ])aid."

" And don't mind me, sir," sugg(!3tod Mrs. Sharpe, de-
mucely.

"Ah! but I do mind you," said Mr. Ingelow; "and be-
sides, the time f^jr payment has not yet o.ojue. Doctor Olean-
der's littlo bill mii^t be settled first. What do you mean to
do about it. Miss Dane?"

" Punish him to the utmost of my power."

" And that will be pretty severo punishment, if j;m.' appeal
to the lawrs of our belovinl (lountr}'. Abductions, and fon ible
marriages, and illegal imprisonment don't go for nothing, I
fancy. Only, unfortunately, the whole laiul will ring with
your story, and your notoriety will bo more extensive than
gratifying."

Mollie made a gestures of horror.

"Oh, sto{)I Not that! I should die if it were known I
was (Juy Oleander's wife! 1 moan it, ]Iugh Ingelow. i
should (lie of shame!"

81u! rose impetuously from the table and walked away to
one of the windows.

" You don't knoiv how I abhor that man— abhor, detest,
hate, loathe hi;u! 'Jlrsrf! is no word i;i all th language strong
enough to express my finding for him. Think of it, Mr.
ingelowl"— she f,a:od a 'ound, her oyes Hashing tire — "think
of tearing a bride from the very altar an her weddiiig-nijrht,
and compelling her to marry a man she abhorred! You, who

172

THE INSEKN PRIDEfiROOM.

are ii brave man and an honorable gentleman, tell me what
liiM'.'iiiiae is etrong enough for so tbutdr'^ly u deetl."

lliigli Ingdlovv h'ft his soiit and fuoed her, very pale. Mrs.
.Sluirpc slipped out of th« room.

" bo you regret your broken marriage with Sir Koger Tra-
jenn;),, MoHit'.!-'"

" No— yes — no. I don't know — I don't tliiiik 1 do. Jt
isn't tlmt. 1 didn't care for Sir Iio;^(;r. I was njraii enough
anil sh:ibby onou!_d\ to ooiisi'iit to raariv liirn for hU wtviiih
atid titlo. Hilt I was such a iiitle f lol! Sir Jvoger wus a
thousand tiniL'S too good for in'- and he ami I are bolh woil
out of tlmt matter. J>ut that io lO excu:.u) for such a villain-
ous liftii."

" 'J'rue. Nothing can excuse it. But you m'lst be merci-
ful. 'I'lu' man lovcil you pi.-^sioiuitoly."

" ^[r. fugnloiv," o[i'Miiiig her eyos wild and wide, " are you
pleading hoctor OK'iui'ler's irase?"

" No, Mi>i!ii' — the caic of the man who lovod you so madiv,
so recklosi^ly. that the thought of your hfiug iinollu;r*s — an-
other':i whom you did not lovo — drove him to insanity, and to
the comiuissiou of ;ui insane deed."

'* And thiit man was Doctor Oleander."

"It was not!"

"Mr. Ingelow!"

" No, Moliie; never taiy Oleander, lie hadn't the phick.
He never cared for you enough."

" But ho did it twice."

"Once only — this lust time — stung, goaded into it by the
lash of Mrs. Walraveu's waspinli tongue. But he is not tho
man who nuirried von, whoever that man may bo. At least,"
cooling down suldenly, as he saw the fidl l)lu!> eyes fixed upon
him with piercirig intentnoss, " 1 don't believe it."

" What do you believe, then, Mr. Ingelow?" Mollic said,
clowlv and susfjiciously.

" That when you made Miriam the confulanteof your story,
on a certain night in your bedroom, Mrs. Carl Wah-aven over-
heard you."

" Impossible!"

•' Porlmpa so; but yoa'U f5nd that's thn way of it. She
listened and heard, and pjitclied it up with Mr. Kashlcigh's
dinner-tabl(^ tale, nnd conhiHulaled with her cousin, and \)<.it
him up to this last ^odgo. She .-aw your advertisement in rhw
paper, and understood it a.5 well a^i you did, and Dv.vAov Ole-
ander was therein waiting. You committed one unaccountable
blunder. You appointed ten for the nocturnal interview, and

hat
Ira.
ra-
ft

m;:!i
'liili
IS :i

aiu-

THE UNSEEN BRIDEGROOM.

173

wore at tho place of the tryat at half iiu%t niue. Huw il o yon
explain ihiir, little ciriMiiuiluiice?"

"It seeais to ma, Mr. Jngelow," saiii Mollis "that you
mnst bi' ii. aiirwier. iIo»v ilo you kuow all thin?"

•'Pa.tly f.oin Miriam, {)artiy from my own inborn ingenu-
ity, as a S^aiikce, in giiutf. iiip;. Please answer my quetiiiun."

" I didn't know 1 was bi'f.iro time. It was later than half
7)ast nine by my watch when i ([iiittod the h'.iiso. I rcMnern-
oer li.steninix for tho clocks to strike ten as I reached Four-
teenth ISk-oct."

" You didn't hear them?"

"No."

" Of course not. Your watch was tampered with, and t/iafc
confirms my suspicion of Mrs. Walraven. Jiwliuve me, Mollie,
a trap was lai;l for you, and you wore cau;j,ht iu it. Yoa
never mot ' JJlaok Mask ' that night."

" Jf 1 thought sol" Mollie cricil, clasping her hands.

" ^'oii will ilnd it so," If ugh Ingelow said, verv fpiietly.
" Lot that he Doctor Oleander's punishment. Make him
confess his fraud — make him confess Mrs. Walraven aided
and abetted him — to-night."

" How can I?"

" Simply enough. Accuse him and her bufore ui all.
There will bo no one present you can not trust. Your guard-
ian, Sir Koger, and myself know alrea'iy. Sardonyx is Mr,
Walraven's lawyer, and silence is a lawyer's forte."

" Well?" breathlessly.

" Accuse him — threaten him. Tell him you know hia
whole fraud from first to hist. Accuse herl Tell him if ho
does not prove to your sati.-fa(^tion he is tiie man who carried
you o(T and married you, or if he refusiis to own he is not tho
man, that he will go straight from the house to prison, llo
knows you can fullUl tho threat. I think it will succeed."

" And if he confesses he is not the nuiii v/ho married me —
if ho acknowledges I he f.a'id — what ihen?"

" Ahl what then? Doctor Oleander will not be your hus-
band."

" And I will be as much in (he dark as ever."

"A moment ago you were iu despair heeause you thought
lie, of all men, was tho man," ?aid Hugh Inyelow. " It
seems to me you are hard to saiit,fy."

" Xo," sail! Mollie; " if ir, be as you suspect, 1 shall be un-
speakably thankful. No fate earth can have in store for mo
(an be half so horribJ'^ a» to knor myself tho wife of Guy
Oleander."

174

THE TXSF.IjN TiBinrxinooM.

" Aiul if I (lionglit Y')ii \vi?ro lil.^ wifo, Mollio, ro^t assiirid I
ihotiUl never li;ive taken yi;u from liim," siiil Mr. Iiigolow,
decidtjilly. ' You aro no moro Ony Olcamlur'a wife tliau 1
am."

" fleiivon bo {uMiscd for tliutl'* Mollie cii^il. " IJut then,
I am entirely in ihu durk. Whose wife am I?"

Mr. Ingulovv nmilod.

"■ Tli.'it quosLion has an i-xtraordinary aoiind. Oiio doesn't
hear it often in a life-time. If 1 were a borceror, as yon aoouso
mo of being, I might pt rhaps aiMWor it. As it U, I leave it
to your own woman's wit to discover."

" My woman's wit is enni|)lett.'ly at a loss," said Mollio, de-
spairingly. "If ever I do iiiid out, and I think it likely I
shall, the divoreo law will .set me free. 1 must toll guardy
all, and get him to hi-lji me."

" Is there no one you t-'usjn.et?"

" Not one — now," M,)ilie replied, fuming awny from him.

Ifow could Moiiie J)ano tell him she had ever surf[)eeteil,
ever hoped, it miglit bo himselu-' It was evidently a matter
of very little mument to him.

" And you can not fort;ive the love that resorts to such ex-
treme measures, Mnllii'?" he asked, after a pau.if.

" No mnr"> than I can fogive Doctor Oi;'ander for carrying
me off and holding me captive in his dreary fa m-house," an-
swered .^follie, steadily. " No, Mr. Iiigidow, I wiil never for ■
give the man who married me against my will."

" Not oven if you cared a iittle for hiiii. Mollie?"

lie asked the ijui'stion hesitatingly, as if ha had something
at stake in the answer. And Mollie's eyes Hashed and her
cheeks flushed angry red as she heard it.

" I care for no one in that way, j\tr. Ingelow,'* she said, in
a ringiiig voice. " You ought to know that. If I did, I
should hate him for his dastardly deed,"

Dead silence fell. Mollie stood looking dowi\ at Iho bustle
of Broadway at one window, Mr. Ingelow at the other, lie
was pale— she flushed iiulignant reii. .'"'he was grieved, and
hurt, and cruelly mortified. She had found out how dearlv
she lovwl him, only to find out with it he was absolutely in-
dift'en^ut lo her; he was ready to plead another man's cause,
yield her up t) hor boliler lover.

She could have cried with disappointment and mortiQcation,
and crvini: was I'ot at all in Mollie's line. Never until now
had sh.' given u{) the hope that he still loved lier.

" It serves me right, I da^e say," she thought, bitterly.
*' 1 have been a flirt and ii triiler, and I refused liim cruelly,

THE UNSEEN" BniDECnOONr.

171

hi-'iii'ilL'B.-jly, fi)r tliiit old man. OliI if tin.' \n\ni could be but
undone, vvliiif !i happy, luippy firoiiturc I idiould bul"

'I'hc ojtpresriivo Hilonce la.ited utitil Mvh. S|iai'[)o re-entered
with sonio neodle-work. 'I'hcn Mr. Ingcdow rose and looked
ut hU vvalcli.

"I believe I'll take a stroll down Broad vvny," ho said, a
little coldly. *' Your friiMul Miriam will prdbubly bo here be-
fore 1 return. If not, there aie books yonder with which to
be;iuiIo the time."

Mollio bowed, proudly silent, and Mr. IiifTcjow left the room
for his morning cunstittitional. Miss Danr walked over, took
a book, oixined it, and held it before her face a full hour with-
out turnitif^ a leaf. The face it screened looked darkly bitter
and overeaHt. vSho was free from prison, only to find lier.-ilf
in a worso captivity — fettered by a lov3 that could meet with
no return.

The bright morning wore on; noon came. Two o'clock
brought dinner and Mr. Ingelow, breezy from his walk.

" WhatI" ho exclaimed, looking round, " no Miriam?"

" No Miriam," said Mol'ie, 1 lyiug down her bo.-ik. ** Mrs.
Sharps and I have been (juite alone — she serving, I reading.'*

Mrs. Sharpo smiled to herself. She had been watching the
young lady, and surmised how much she had read.

" Why, that's odd, too," Mr. Ingi low said. " She prom-
ised to be hero this niorning, and Miriam kerps her promises,
.1 think. However, the afternoon may bring her. And now
for dinner, me«datues. "

But the afternoon did not bring her. The hour« wore on
— Mr. Ingelow at his easel, Mollie with her book, Susan
8harpe v/ith her needle, conversation desultoi-y and lagging.

Since the morning a restiaint lutd fallen between the knight-
errant and tlio rescutd lady — a restraint Mollie saw clearly
enough, but could not pro[>erIy understand.

Evening came. Twilight, hazy and blu.\ fell like a silvery
Toil over the city, and the street-lamps twinkled through it
like stars.

Mr. Ingelow in an inner room had made his toilet, artd stood
before Mollie, hat in hand, ready to depart for the Walraven
mansion.

" Kemain here another halt hour," he wiis saving; "then
follow and strike the conspirators dumb. It will bo better
than a melodrama. 1 saw Oleander to-day, and I know in-
formation of your escape has not yet i*eached him. Yon had
better «ntef the house by the most jtrivato entrance, 80 tiiat,

THE rJTSEEN PRIDEGROOM.

all iitiknov/11, voii can nppear before us and s^Raro ".h oat of a
yeiir's ^I'ouili. "

" I kii w how to goL in," said Mdllio. " TruHt nio to play
Diy jiiiit. "

Mr. Ingelow df^parted, fidl of delightful anticipations of the
fmi to come. Jle fuunil all the giu'8ts assembled liefnro him.
It was quite a select lit tie faniiiv party, and Mr, Walruvcu
and Sir Jioger Trajeimu were in a state of despondent gloom
that h id become chronic of late.

M'lilii', the apple of their eye, their treasure, tlieir darling,
Vi'as not ]ireserit, and the vvhoio universe lieid nothing to com-
pensate them for her loss.

Mrs. Wat iiven, superbly attiroil, and looking moro like
Qiieon Cleopatra than ever, with a circlet j|f red gold in her
bliie-biaek hair, and her polished fchoulderr .'ind arms ;:!"a!n-
ing like ivory against b;'on;x> in her golden-brown silk, piy-
gided like an emi).e53. 81;c was quite rf.diant to-nigljt, and so
was Dr. (luv. Ail their plans had succeeded admirably.
Mollie was absolutely in I heir power. This litne lu-niorrnw
scores of broad sea mdos would roll between her and 2S'ew
York.

Tho conversation turned upon her ore thej'liiid been a quar-
ter of an hour at tal)le. Mr. W'al raven never could leave the
subject uppermost in h'-^ tliniightH for long.

" It is alto:relher e: iraordinary," iSir Jioger Trajenna said,
slowly. "The first absence was unaccountable enough, but
this second is more unaccountable still. iSome enemy is at
the bottom."

" Surely Mis^ Dane could have no enemies," said Hugh
Ingelow. " We all know how amiable and loval)Ie she was."

" liovable, eertainl). V/e know that," rcmaiked Sardonyx,
v.'iLh a grim smile.

" And I ailhoro to n^^' ^ormr-r ophiion," said Dr. Oleander,
with consummate coi;i:i ..i — "that Miss ^lollio is jilaying
tricks on her friends, ti try their atTection. \V(3 know wjiat;
a tricksy sprite .she is. r-:'lieve me, both absencrs v,-cre prac-
tical jokes. She has d" ■ .peared of her own free will. It was
very well in tho Dark A-es — this abducting young huliee and
carrying them olT to (•astle-kcrps — but it woirt do in Is'ew
York, in the i<roHcnt year of grace."

" My opinion precisely, Guy," chimed in his fair cousin.
•' Mollie likes to create sen ation^ Her first abaence set the
avenue o.i the (/ni rive and mufle her a heroine, so she is re-
bolved to try it pgain. Jf people woidd be guided by me,"
glancing significantly i'> her liusband, " they would coaee to

THK I'NSF.EN' UKIOECftOOM.

y.7

worry tliom.st'l /cs about hor, aud lot her r«Lurn at he* ow'ri
;^'(joii pk'cifure, as slu.'. wont."

""Veti, Mr. \V:ilriiV('ii." said Or. Oleander, flushed iiud tri-
uni|)li!i;it, " IV;'.ii.jiie is ri^ht. J. is usoloc's to ir >ubln your-
•sell' so much about it. Of h(u' own acoord slic will VAnnc buck,
uiid V )U may safely swear of her own u'^coid tihe went."

*" (ruy Oleander, you iiel"

"!!' he voice rani,' silver-sweet, clear us a bugle-blast, through
the room. All sprung to their feet.

" Ah-h-h-h-hl"

The wordless cry of affright came from Mrs. Oarl Wal-
raven, J)r. Oleander stood paralyzed, his eyes starting from
their socket.'-, his face like the face of a deiul nian.

And there in the door-wav, like a picture in a frame, like a
Saxon pythoness, her golden hair falling theatrically loose,
hor arm upraised, her face in\k, her eyes tlasiung, stood
Molli.'.

CHAPTER XXIV.

:\r L I- I F ' S T K I L' -M I' 11 .

Tfie tableau was maufiiificient.

There was a dead pause of unutterable consternation. All
stood rooted to the spot with staring eyes and open mouths.
I'lforo the first electric chiirge had sub^i!]ed, Mollio Dane ad-
vanced and walked straight up to the coiifoun led doctor, con-
fronting him with eyes tliat literally blazed.

" Liarl traitor! (toward I Whoso turn is it now?'*

Dr. Oleanilor fairly gaspid for bnaih. 'J'hc awful sudden-
ness of iho blow stunjied him. He ct)[dd not speak — he made
the attem[)t, but his white lips failed him.

*' Before all here," cried .Mollie Dane, arm and hand still
upraised with an action indescribably grand, " I aceiise you,
(Juy Olennder, of hiuh felony I i a(!cuse you of forcibly tear-
ing mo from my home, (if forcibly holding mu a priso;:or for
nearly two weeks, and of intemling to carry me olT by force
ta-morrow to ('id)a. And you, miidanie," turning siuldenly
as lightning stiikes upDn Mrs. Carl, "you, malame, I accuse
as his aider and abettor."

There was another horrible pause. Even Uugh Ingelow
thrilltid through every vein.

'I'hen Carl Walraven found voico:

" For Cod's sake, Mollic, what docs this mean?"

Moliie turned to him and h.'ld out bolh hands.

" It moans, guardy, tiiut but for the direct iuterposition ol

i:8

THE UN.si;i:X UKIDErinOOM.

Provideuce you never would have aeen your poor litLle Criolcet

And at last Dr. Oleander found hii voice.

" That infernal nursel" he cried between his sot teeth.

Mollie heard the hissing wonis and tin-ned upon him like a
pale little fury.

" Yi'S, Guy Oleander, the nu''?e played you fal.^e — fooled
you to yoHV face fr>>m the lirst. Catue down from Mew York
for no other ]»u!pot;e than to rescue me. And here 1 am,
safe and sound, in spite of you; and the tables are turned,
and you are in mv p^vor now. Out of this house you never
stir except to go to jiri-on."

" Mollie! Mollie! Mollie!" Mr. Carl Walraven cried in des-
peration, " f.tr the Lord's sake, wliat do you mean!-' What
has Doctor Oleander dont;!'' '

•' Carried me olT. I tell yon — forcibly abducted me. Held
me a prisoner for the last two weeks in a desolate old farm-
house over on Long Lsland. Lof»k at him. Was ever guilt
more plainly written on liiunan fa e!-" JA^t him deny it if he
can — or you, niadame, his accomplice, either."

" I do deny it," Mme. Blanche exclaimed, boldly. " Mol-
lie Dane, you are niiid."

" You will find to your cost there is method in my mad-
ness, Mrs. Walraven. \\ hat say you, Do(.'ti)r Oleander!"' Have
you llie hardihood tj fjice me with a dililjerate lie, too!'"'

Dr. Oleander wa>: not deficient iii a certain dog-liku courage
and daring. lie saw his position in u moment — saw that
denial would bo nttuly useless. His own mother would
jd'ovo against him it if came to law.

There was but o!io aveniu; of escape for him — he saw it like
a. Hash of light. Mollie w«.idd Tint dure i)ublish this story of
hers for hei osvn sake, and neither would Carl Walraven for
his wife's.

" He does not deny it!" cried Mollie. " He dare not.
Look at his changing face. He carried me oil" and held me a
prisoner in his mother's house, and gave out 1 was mad. And
that is not the worst ho has <1 >ne. 1 might overlook that,
now that 1 have safely esciijx'd — "

Dr. Oleander suddenly interrupted her.

" That is the very worst — and you dare not publish it, even
to jiuru.di me."

" What!" exclaimed the yoiuig ladv, " do you deny ymr
other tenfold greater crinu' — the compulsory marriage per-
formed by the lieverond Ivaymond llashieigh? Oh, if there

THK UNSEEN IlKIDEOKOOM.

17i

he /aw or justice in tlu whole country, you shall suiter for

tbvt:"

" 1 do deny it," snid the doctor, boldly. " You are no
wife of oiiiiu hv oonipidsioii or otlmrwisf. That story was
tniinpi'd uj) to di'ceive you the second Liui3. "

Mf'llio's heart gave one great throb, and then seemed to
stand still.

Mrs. Wairavcji turned, ghastly with fear and rage, upon
her cousin.

" (i'ly Oioandor, arc you mad? What are you saying?''

" The truth, Biam^ho. It, is too late for any other alter-
native noiv. i^'^n'f; fe.ir — Mr. Walravon will hardly allow hia
ward to prostHMice his wifi'. "

"Traitor anil coward!" lilancho Walraven cried in fierco
scorn. " 1 wish my tongue had blistered with the words tliat
urged you on. "

'* I wish it had," returned the doctor, codly. " I wi.-h,
as I often have wished since, that I had never listened to your
tempting. It was your fault, m)t mine, fnun lirst to last.'"'

It was the old si;ory of Adam and Hve over again: " Tiie
woman tcmjjted me, and 1 did eat."

" ' When rogues fall orit, honest men get their own.'
Vou mean to wiv, Doctor Oleander, that Mrs. Walravon in-
stigated you on?*"

" How else shotdd 1 know?" answered the doctor. " She
overhea d you telling tiie woman Miriam, in your chamber,
the whole storv. Slu.' saw and unihu'stood your advertisinneiit
and its answer. She concocted the whole scheme, even to
advancing thi* hands of your watL'h half an hour. If tlie law
pmdsiies me, Miss Dane, it must also punish vour guardian's
wife."

" (-owanl! coward I" Blanche furiously cried. " Dh, baspst
of th» basul If I ordy had the jjower to strike you dead at my
feet!"

The dortor bore the onslaught (juietly enough.

" Heroics are all \ery well, lilarudie," he said; "but self-
presorvation is the lirst law of nature, (-onfession is the only
avenue of escape, and I liave taken it. Besides, justice is
justii'.o. You (lesi rve it. Vou goaded me on. It was your
fault from heginning to end."

" And you own, tlun, you are not the man who carried me
off l>ef .-e?" said Mjllie. ** Yon are not the man Mr. liash-
leigh married?"

" I swi'ar I'm noti" cried (he doctor, with an earnestness
thwe was no ruistuUiug. " And I'm very thankful I'm not.

180

THE UNSEEN injIDKOilOOM.

1 wouldn't loud tlie lifo I've led for the past two wer-ks for
ull (he woman ulive. I'm ghid you're heie, and thut the
whitle thing is knocked in thu Ir.'ud."

lie epoka with the dodged recklessness of ;i man goiulfd to
desperulioii. Mollie turned agiiiu to htir guurdiim aud laid
her face on his sh »i.ildi.r.

" Send that man away, guardy. His presence in the room
tnrns me sick to dt'aih."

" I am going, Mi<s Dane," said Dr. Oleamlcr, tnrning
moodily to the (ioor, " and 1 shall not go to Ciiha. I shall
rot qnit New York. Let you or your guardian prosecute
m? if you danil"

He stalked out with the last words. No one moved or spoke
un:il the house-door banged uftc- him.

Then Mme. IJhuu'iio, seeing all was lost, gave one horrible
scream, clasped her hands over her head, and fell back in vio-
lent hysterics,

" l^ing for her maid, guardy," said Mollie. " You had
best take her up to her room. Sir Roger, Mr. Ingclow, please
to remain. Mr. Sardonyx, excuse me, but you have heard all
that it is necessary you should hear."

The la.vyer became angry-red, but turned at once to go.

" J have no wish to pry into your very extraordinary st-crets
or esca[)ade3, Miss Dane," he said, haughtily. " J'er.'uit me
to wish you go.)d-evening. "

Mr. Sardi.'nyx departed. Mr. Walraven saw his wife safely
conveyed to her roiui and left in charge of her maid, and
then returned to the ilining-room.

Mollie's hrst act vvas to huld out both hands, with infinite
grace and courtesy, to Hugh IngelDW.

" Mr. Ingij'ow, words are pi^or and weak to t.di you how I
thank you. 1 have not deserved it from you. 1 can only
ask you to try and foigive me."

The y.iung arti.it lifted the fair little hands to his lips.

" I am repaid ten thousand-fold," ho said, (juictiy. " I
would give luy lifo to serve you."

" In the name of Heaven, Mollie," cried the nearly frantic
master of the house, " what does all this extraordiriary mys-

gi>

inii

tted,

comi
your wife and

tery mean

'* It inc.ns that a terrible crime has bv.'e
guardy," Mollie replied, gravtdy, " and that
her cousin ure among the chief l•l)ll^:|)i|•at^rs. Sit down and L
will tell you the whoh^ story. Sir ]i »ger Trnjeinta, likewise.
1 owe you both a full e.N:plauation. Mr. Ingelow knowa
already."

li.

TiiE UN'HFFN- rRiDF.nnooir.

181

Rh'j isat down before then), anrl brcinninjx at tho beginning,
th]<\ thetn the whole etory — her forced airi mysterious niur-
ria2;i' aii.l its vory iKipIf a-iiMt s*([H<^l.

'■ 'J'h'it I eviT t3-;i.)<'l," she conclufled, "I owe, under
Providence, to .Mr. Ing-l.'W. (Juardy, I w'ouM have pfiarod
you 'f 1 coidd; but, yon -.'•■, it wa.s ini{)OSHiI)l!'. Of conrse, V'C
n'ori't pro?rcute yo-jr »\\<^ or her cousin. I am almost satis-
iii'd, now that 1 h'KAv I am not (iny Oleander's wretched
wife."

" Hut, lieaven-? above, Mollie Danel" cried the bewildered

Mr. Wa! raven,

who.-i." wi.e are you

•j'»

AI), ^Miarlv, I w^.uld eive a great deal to know that."

" Whijm d> you suspect?"

*' I 8U-pi'ct no one now."

'J'here wa- a frha-le of t-iM^ne-i in her tone, and lier eyes
wauden-;! wi -if idly over to tiiL- youriLr ariist.

" Upon my soul!" excLiiimd Mc'. Walr.ivcn. " 1 never
heani or read of the like. It's perfectly a^tnunditig. Did
yo!i ever lunir anything si extraordinary. Sir Kogcr?"

The baronet h'll been .sifting like a man stunned by a blow.
Kow he turned hia eyes from Mollie's for the iiiiL time, and
tried to spe.ik.

" I anx utterly bewildered," he suid. " The whole story
so nds like an iuip">^?ibilitv — inercdibh' a^^ a fairy talc."

*' It is fjwite true, noverth"!'.--^." said ^[ullie.

" And vm are u wedded wife?"

"1 am?'

" You're nothing of the sort!" burst out Carl Walraven.
" You're free — f'^e aa air. It woidd bo outrageous, it would
be rnoiistrou3, to let i^ui h a marriage bind you. Vou arc free
to wi.'d to-morrow if you choose: and let the villain come for-
ward and dispute the marriage if he darel"

" lie ppeaks the truth," said Sir Roger, eagerl}'. " Such
a juarriuge is no marri.ige. You are as free as you were be-
fore, Moliie."

'* Perhaps so," said Mollie, calmly. " Nevertheless, I shall
never marrv."

" Xever?"

It was Sir Koger's despairing voice.

" Never, Sir Roger. I never was worthy of you. I would
be tho basest of th'? h-nf to many you now. No; what 1 nm
to-night 1 will go to my '^rave. "

She stole a glance ai Hugh Ingolow, bnt the rpliinx was
never more unreadable thuu he. lie caught her glauec;
howcvcr, aiad calmly spoke-

283

THE UNSEEN BRIDEGROOW.

" And now, Jis Miss Mollie has had a f!itif!;uin<f journey
latelv, and as she needs rest, wo had better allow her to retire.
Good-night."

He had bowed and reached the door ere tlio voice of Carl
Walraven arrested him.

" This very unpleasant business, Mr, Tngelow~Sir TJoger,"
he said, witli evident embarrassment, " in which Mrs. Wal-
raven is concerned — "

" Will be as though it had never boon, Mr. Wulruven,"
Hugh Ingelow said, gravely. "Once more — good-night."'

He quitted the room.

Sir Roger Trajenna turned to follow, a sad, crushed old
man.

Mollie shyly and wistfidly held out lier hand.

" Try and forget me, Sir Koger — try and forgive me. 1
have been a foolish, llighty girl; 1 am soiry for it. I can say
no more."

" Xo more!" Sir Ilogor said, with emotion, kissing the Ht-
tie hand. " God bless youl"

He, too, was gone.

Then Mollie turned and put her arms round her guardian's
neck.

" Dear old guardy, I am sorry for you. Oh, I wish you had

M ' r ii.arried that hateful iJianche Oleandi'r, but lived free

happy with vunr mnthc' .aid your Mollie. ]}ut it's too

iate now: you must forgiv her, 1 suppose. I detest lier like

the mischief; but we must .ill keej) the [R'ace. "

*' I suppose so, Mollie," with a dreary sigh. " You can't
w,-ii I had ni'ver married more than I do. It's a righteous
punishment upon me, I suppesc, I've been the greatest vil-
lain unhung to the only woman who ever did love me, and
now this is retribution. "

He groaned dismally as ho rose and kissed MoIIio good-
night.

" Go to your room, Mollie, and let us forget, if wo can."

" Ahl" said Mollie, " if we can. (iuardy, good-niglit."

CM AFTER XXV.

M 1 U I A M ' S :\l E S S A E .

Ts'ext morning, at brcakfa.^t, Mrs. Walraven did not ap-
])car. Sh" was very ill and feverish, her maid re])orted, and
quite unable to leave her bed.

Mr. Carl Walraven heard Ihij sad account of his wife's
health with a grimly lixed countenance. He looked as though

THE UNSEEN KUIDFOKOO^r.

ho liiul puHseil !i rcsLloHS night liiiiijclf, aiul luukeJ worn iiml
ha^iL^iir'i nn>\ hollo\v-('y(.'(l in tho bri;j;ht morning sanshin*.'.

Mullii^ OM ih'..' otiM.M' h:uui, ^vud blDOiuirj;^ and biillifiTit a;
the ^oddf^aa Idt-bo. Past troubled .sut lightly on buoyant ^Ld-
lio \iA d('»v-droj)j on a ros('. She looiied rather aiixiou.sly at
her j^uardian as Llie ;;irl '|uitted tho brealvfa-st-rooni.

'* Vou didn't moniion iilanciie's dlnead, guardy. Tea or
chocolate this morning?"

*• A oiij) of tea. I didn't mention lior iihiess because I
wasn't aware of it. 1 haven't had the pleasure of seeirifj Ma-
danu! Pdaiiclie since ne purled in the dining-room hist night."

" Indfioill"' said iMoilie, stirring her elun-olate slowdy.

" And what'o moro," pursued tlio master of the house, " I
don't care if 1 never see lu-.r i;gain. "

"' Dear me, guardy! St.iong huiguage, isn't it?"

*' It is trutiiful langiuige, Moliio. Sleeping on a thing
sometimes alters its c( nl]»U"^';^!l materially, f^ast evening I
concluded to let things blow over and keep up aj)2')eaiance.'?
before tho svorld. Tliis morning 1 am resolved to let the
world go hang, and teach one of the oo!upirators a lesson she
won't forget in a hurry."

jMollie looked alarmed.

" Not a divorci!, guardy? Surely not the public scandal of
a divorce? All must come out then,"

" \ot quite a divorce," Mr. Walravcn said, coolly; " it^
next-door neighbor. A (puet, gentlemanly, and lady-like
soj)aration. "

•' Ciuardy Walraven," said Miss Dane, solemnly, " don't do
anything rash. "

■' I don't intend to. I've thought tlie nuitter well over.
Didn't get y wink of sleep last night for it. We won't break
our hearts " — with a cynical sneer — " mvsclf nor my gentle
Blanche. 1 don't know why we nuirricd, exactly. Certainly
not for love, and we will j)art without a ])ang. "

'* Speak for yourself, giuirdv. I dare sav Blanche will be
franti.:."

*" I'rantic at leaving a house on i'ifih Avenue — frantic at
leaving you unstress in her ])lace — frantic that she can't be
my blooming young wivlow — frantic; at all that, I grant you."

" (Juardy, don't be dreadful," adjured Mollie, pathetically.
" If 1 can forgive iUanclie, I'm sure you nuiy."

" Xo. .Mollie, I can not. She has deceived mo basely,
wickedly. Afcii' — I dare not.'"'

" Dare not. \ow, Mr. Walraven — "

" Hear me out, Mollie. A woman who would concoct such

184

THE UNSEENf ItUlDIX; IIOOM.

a villulnous plot would stop at nothing. Abtliu-tioii would bo
fol!o;va'd by ijnii'der. I would not trust tier 1. oil. Lioiiooforth
on liev Bible oaLh. My life is not au'e whilu rAi<j ivuittius iu
tliis house/'

'•(hiai'dyl guui lyl how can you say bui'U hiTiible things?
('onnait inuriirr? Vou know very well bho \voul.l not daro. "

" Wives dare it I'VH-ry woek if tho public journals spc^ak tlr)
truth. I tell you I would not trust her. U'huro is (iuy
OIe.ind(.'i% a loxicoloi^ist by prof.'ssion-— vvli:ih ni'uv ca^^y than
for him to riupplv hor with sutno subtio ilinig, and call it (ata-
lepsy, a cnngtvsLion, a di.si;aso of the heart? I tell you, Mollie,
after finding thera out, uiv life would not be worili a (illip in
their hands. I eciuld as easily live with a female gorillii as
with niani^lie Oleander."

*' Well," ir^aid Mollie, looking n little startled," if you foel
like that, oi" course — When do you propose — "

She pau-ied,

'* I shall lose no time. 1 shall, seo Mrs. Walravon immedi-
ately after broakfast. "

"'iMit she h ill."

" BoshI She's shamming. She's afraid to show her
wicked, plotti;ig face. She's lying there to coneoet some new-
villainy. I won't spare her — she didn't spare you. I'll send
her packing, bag and baggage, before the week's out."

" And if she refuses to go, guardy?"

"Then," cried Mr. Walraven, with flai-'hing eyes, " I'll
make her go. I'll have a divorce, bv Heaven! She'll lind
she can't eiimmit liigh felonies in tliis eidightened jige and go
unpunished. I'd see her boiled alive before I'd ever live with
her

agaui.

With wtiich j-'{)i,-ited deelartition Mr. Widraven finished hi.n
breakfast liml aros". His lirst proceiuling was to ring tiie bci!
violently. One of the kilelien diim.^els atiswered.

" Go to Mr-!. Walravou's room and tell her Jlr. Waliavs .:
is cominiT to see her."

The girl, looking rather surjjrised, liaytened to obey.

Mr. Walr;iven took a turn or two np and down the room,
" nursing his wrath to keep it warm."

" The moi'o I think of this iiil\rnal business, Mollie," l.o
burst out, " tho more enraged 1 g' t, If Doelor Oleander uias
so madly in love with you that he tuf-ried you oil: to prevent
your miirrying any one else, one might find s-ome excnye fir
him. Lov*s we all know, is a ' .shoi t-lived madnest!.' But
for her, a woman, to invent thut diabolical scheme in cold

THE UNSEEN BPJDIiGROOAr.

18.:

bloor], simply bocauHO f-'lie Imtcd yoii! Oh, it was the work o?
ail ticciirsud luirriiliin, aii;l iievei to Ix^ forj'ivciil"

ih' strodo from the room iia iio ep'tko, hi." face and eyes
fithimf^, and Htal anl .slraii^ht to thd Hlccping-roorn of Mm»^.
Blancho. Oiifi loud nijt; then, hrfore the atU'iidaiit could
opeti, It he hud lluiig it wide, and he was standing, stern as
liha liimutith'id, above the cowering woman in the bed.

" Do you leave the roomi" he (xchiiuicd, turning savagely
upon the girl; *' and mind, no cav(8drop])ing, if you have any
regard for wliole hones. 15e ofi'I"

'I'lio fi'ightened girl scampeiid at once. Jlr, V/alraven
closed the door, locked it, strode back, and stood glaring down
upon hi.-^ wife with folded arms and tiercely shining eyes.

" Well, mudame?"

" Spare me, Carl." She held np her arms in dire alTright.
*' Forgive me, my husliaiid."

" Xeverl" thundered Carl Walraven — " neverl you base,
plotting .Jezebell The fate you allotteil to Mollie Dane shall
fall upon yourself, "^'ou shall (piiL this house before the week
ends, never to return to it more."

"Carl! lluyband— "

" Silence, madajne! "No husband of yoiiis, either now or
at any future time! This shall bu our lait interview. We
part to-day to meet no more.''

" Carll Carll for pity's sake, hear me."

" Kot a word, not a syllable. All the excuses in the world
would not e.'ccuse you. 1 never loved you — now 1 bate you.
After this hour I never want to look upon your wicked
wJiite {li'.-ii airain."

lUaiudie Walraven'a sjiirit rose with the insult. She flung
down the clothes and sat erect in bed, her black eves Hashing.

" Be it so! You never loved me less than I did you! You
can not hate me more than 1 hate you! I3ut, for all that, I
won't go!"

" You shall go— and that within this week!"

" 1 tell you 1 won't! I dare you! Do your worst!"

" J)o you, mndauie? Then, by IFoaven, I aci'cpt your chal-
lenge! Tlic law of divorce slnll set me free from the vilest
wife man ever wa^ cursed with!"

►She gave a ga-ping cry, her faco ghnstly white.

" Carl Walraven, you v.'ouM n<)t da^e!"

"Would 1 not?" with n liarsh laugh. "Wo ehall see.
You don't know what Cii"l Walraveri is capable of yet, I sea"

" AV'ait! wait! w.-iitl" liianche pcreamod nfter /dm, in mor
tal terror. " T<;11 me wiiat you came hero to propose. "

180

THE UNSEKX I^RIDEnROOM.

" A soparation, mad.imo — qnietlj', without cclal or publlo
BCRTiflu!. Ac(;i.'pt or n^fuHi;, sus you pleusi;'. "

*' Wluit aro your terms?" sulloiily.

" More liberiil thuu you dosi-rvc. An uniiuity liir^^or than
finythiujj you ever had before you niiirried nio. a houho up tlie
]fu(lsou, and your proniiso novor to return to New York.
With my death, the antiuity will coa-ic, and voii will bo penni-
less. I don't (Jioose to bo put out of the way by you or your
poisoning cousin."

Jilanche AValraven's eyes flaaheil fury.

" You are a merciless, iron-hearted man, Carl Walraven,
and I hate you I 1 close with your terms, because I can not
lielj) myself; but I'll have revenge yet!"

" And the very lirst attempt you make," said i\Ir. Wal-
raven, coolly, " I'll hand you over to the law as I would the
commonest vagrant that ))rovvl3 the streets. J)on't think to
intimidate me, my lady, with your tragedy airs and liory
glances. Mr. Sanlonyx will wait upon you this afternoon. If
you can make it convenient to leave to-morrow, you will very
much oblige me,"

iris last words were almost lost. Mrs. Walraven, with u
hysterical scream, had fallen back among the ])illo\vs in strong
convulsions, lie just stopped to give one backward glance of
pitiless loathing, then rang for her maid and left the room.

And so parted the ill-assorted husband and wife to meet no
more. 80 ended one mercenary marriage.

Carl Walraven went down-stairs, and found Mollio uneasily
stwaiting him.

" It's all settled, Mollie," he said. " You are the little
mistress of the house from this day forward, until " — looking
at her earnestly — " you get married."

MoUie reddened and sliook her head.

" I shall never get married, guardy."

" No? Not even to Hugh Ingelow?"

" Least of all to Hugh Ingelow. Don't let us talk about it,
guardy. What did Mrs. Walraven say?'^

" More than 1 care to repeat, Cricket. We won't talk
ubout Mrs. Wali-aven, eitlier. "

" But, guardy, are you really going to send her away?"

" I really and truly am. SShe goes to-morrow. Now,
Mollie Dane, there's no need for you to wear that pleading-
face. She goes — Uisit's ilat! I woiddn't live in the hanie
house with her now for a kingdom. If you say another ^\'orl^
about it we'll quarrel."

lie strode oil like a sulky lion, and MoUie, feeling as though

THE UNSEEN" RltlDEOnOOM.

187

it wore nil her fault, was loft disconsolate and uncomrortablo

onou.,'ii.

1 had rathtT they liad male it up," she thought. " f
don't want to bo tho v•^ur■i^ of parting iiinn atid wifo. Siie be-
haved atrociously, no (loiil)t, and deserves puni^lirnent; but J
wish the punialiini^nt h*l fallen on the man, not tlio woman.
It's a Khamc to niako her siitTer and let that horrible doctor
olT st;ot-froe. "

Mr. "W'al raven, in his studj', iiuantime, had written a letter
to Lawyer Sardonyx, detailing' in brief hi.s vvi.-.he.s, and refpieBt-
inr( him to <ii!l upon Mrs, Wairaven in the course of the day.
'riiut done, ho (juittcd tlie house, determined to return no
more until she had left.

'J'iie afternoon brought Hugh Tngelow. MoUio was alone in
hci' room, having a very anxious time; but when liis name
wa=! iuinoiinccd, she dropped the book she was trviiig to read
ami made u head lung rush down-stairs. If Hugh Ing<low had
seen the rosy light that leaped into her (dieeks, the glad
sj»arkle that kindled in her eyes at the sound of his name, ho
could hai'iily have been insensible to their llattering iin-])ort.

Mr. Ingelow congratulated her on her bright looks as ho
shook hands.

" 1 iiever saw you looking better," he said, with earnest
admiration.

" LookK are deceitful, then," ?aid ^Mollic, shaking her curly
liead dolefully. " I don't think I over [elt worse, even when
cooped up in Doctor Oleander's prison."

'* l.'cally! What has gone wrong now?" the artist inquired.

" Kverything dreadful I The mos't .^hocking tempests in
tea-pots. <iuardy is going to separate from his wifel"

"Indoedl" said Mr. Ingelow, coolly. "The very best
tiling lij could do."

"Oh. M'. rngelowl"

"Qniift triir, Mollie. She's a Tartar, if ever there was a
Tartar. ITo ccinniitted a terrible aet of folly when he married
her; let h^rn sliow his return to wisdom by sending her adrift.
I don't pi!y her in the lea-^t. If he forgave her this tiIU(^, slie
would simply despise him, and lugin her machinations ail over
again,"

" No! Do you think so? 'J'hen I'm not to blame?"

" You!" Mr. Ingelow laugh. d. " 1 should think not, in-
deed I Set that tender little heart of yours at rest, J\Iollie.
IMiuuihc Walraven is big atid fierce, anil a^.Ie to take caro of
herself. liot vs get rid of her quietlv, if we can, and bo
ihankful."

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23 WEST MAIN STREET

WEBSTER, N.Y. 14580

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188

THE UNSEEX BRIDEGROOM.

' txiluiiudl (ho
liiulL't oii('l)ier

It is

'* Mr. Sftvdonyx h with hor now," pa'd Mollie, " arranging
matters. Oil, diarl I oiin't lu^Ip fteliu^' nervous ami troubled
about it. It's not fair to puiii-li her and lot i)ocl:>r Oleander
go off scot-free."

" His punisliment is his detection and your loss, Millie, I
can think of no heavier punidiujcnt than that. I mtt him,
by the bye, in Broadway, as largo as li'e, and a? intp'^imi tm
the gentioinan with the cloven foot. He bowed, and I stared,
and cut him dead, of course. '*

Before Mollie could ppeak. the door-bell rang. A nionieat
later and theie was thu s Miml of an aiteroution in the hall.

" You can't see Miss Dune, vou raganiul.ini'
mellifluous tones of footman Wilson. " You
ring the door-bell! 'I'he airy's for feu( h as you I"

It is Miriam!" cried Mollie, ruiming to the door,
sorely Miriam at last!"

But it was not Miriam. It was a dirty-faced boy — a tatter-
demalion of fourteen years — with cliarp, knowing black eyea.
Those intelligent orbs tixed on the young lady at once.

*' Be you Miss Dane— Mis" Mollie ]>aiie— mi.^s?"

" Yes," said Mollie. " Who are yon?"

"Sammy Slimuiens, miss. Miss Miriam ecjit me, miss —
she did."

" Miriam!'' Are you sure!-' Why didn't she come herself?'*

" Couldn't, miss," nodding sagaciously. " bhe'g very bad,
she is. Got runued over, miss."

*' Run over!" Mollio cried, in horror.

"Corner Fulton Street, nii-s, and l>roadwav. Yei^terday
morning 'twas. I told the policeman where she livid, and ho
fotched her home. Won't live, they say, atid she's sent for
you. Got something very 'tioular to tell yon, ini.ss."

" I will go at once," Mollie paid, unutterably distressed.
" My poor Miriam! I might have known soniething had hap-
pened, or she would have l» en here before lhi>."

She flew upstairs and was back again, d . ed fur tke street,
in ten minutes.

" Permit me to accompany you. Miss Dane," .':aid Htigli
Ingelow, stepping forward. " You have been entrapped be-
fore. We will bo on our guard this time. Now, my man,"
to the hero of the rags and (atters, " lead on: we follow."

The boy darted away, and Mr. Ingelow. wiih Mollie's hand
drawn through his arm, set oil alter him at a rapid rate.

THE I.X3EEK RlilDEGROOM.

isy

CHAPTE»? XXVI.

MIKIAll'S -TORY.

A MISERABLE attic cbaoiber, dimly liglited by one dirty
sky-light, a uiiseiiible bcl in one porner, a broken chair, an
old wooden chest, a ri«.kciy table., a few articles of deif, a
tiuiible-ilawn iittli.' cook-store.

That wiMi the picf.ir? Mol!;e Dane savv, standing ou the
thrt'shold of Miriam's room-
There was no decf'i.tiofi this time. On that wretched bed
lay the broken an 1 brairtd figine of the woman Miriam,
dying.

J lor deep, labor'.-.] brea-hing was painfully audible, even
ouf.sido the room; her st.oiig thvat rose and fell — every breath
tortnre.

iJy her siile sat the mothc-r of the raggcxl boy, holding a
drink to her liprf, an 1 coaxing her t j open her mouLh and try
to swallow.

In vivid contra-t to all ib'3 poverty and abject wretched-
ness, the young f:i.l in the iltx.r-'-ray stood, with her fair,
blooming face, her iluttering goldeu ringlets, her rich silken
garments, anil fclej::int uir.

The woman by the bed turned round and stared for a mo-
raonf: then —

" Be von the voung lailv as Mrs. Miriam sent mv Sammy
for:-"' she a:skeil.'

" Yea," said Mollie, coming forward. " How is she?"

" IJad as bad lan be, miss. Won't never see another day,
the doctor say^. "

*' My poor Miriam — my jK>or Miriam!"

Th'J slow tears gathereJ in her eyes ha she bent above her
and saw the pimhfd. sharpentl fuce, with the blue tinge of
coming death ahvaily dawi.i^g ihe^-e.

" Bo you a nlaiion?"' the woman asked, cariously. But
MoIIie did not answer — she was stooping over (he sick woman,
absorbed.

" Miriam!" she eai'l. w'lly, taking the skinny hand in both
h(3r own — '* Miriam, l^J\Jk upl fe|)eak to mc. It is 1— your
osvn Miillie. "

'J'he sound of that lieloved voice ponctrntcd the death fog
already blurring every '«. uliy. 'J'he dulled eyes opened with
u sudden, joyful iigh; of recoguiilon.

190

THE UNSEEi^ 15KIDEGR00M.

" Mollie," she said, *' iny dear little Moliie. i knew yoa
would oome."

" 1 am Tsry, very sorry to see you iilie tbij?, Mirium. Do
you suffer much paiu?"

" Not now — only a dull ucliing from heml to foot. But
eyen that will soon bo over. I um ;rlad. My lifo hu« been
nothing for the past si.iteen years but one long torment. I
am glad it is so nearly done. Mollie," tixitig her haggard eyes
solemnly on her face, " you know I will never see another
sunrise."

" My poor, poor Miriam I"

" Are you sorry for poor Miriam, Mollie?"

''Sorrier than soiryl What other relativii have 1 in the
wide world but j^oii?"

" Not one, Mollie^. But I am a relative you need hardly
grieve for, I have been a bad, cruel woman — the worst
woman that ever lived to vou, mv poor little girl!"

"Miriam!"

"Ah! dou't look at me with those innocent, wondering
blue eyes! You shall know all. 1 can't die with my story
untold, my secret uurevealod. Mrs. Slimmenrf, I iiave some-
thing very j)articular to say to this young lady. I'lease to
leave us alon(3. "

The woman, with a disappointed look, rose up and quitted
the room.

Mollie drew up the only chair and seated herse.* by the bed-
side.

** Did you come here alone?" was Miriam's first question,
W^ion they were together.

*' No," said Mollie, coloring slightly. " Mr. Ingelow came
•,?ith me. He is waiting below."

" That is well. It is growing late, and the neighborhood is
not a good one. He saved yoii, did he not?"

" He did. I owe him my life — my liberty."

" 1 knew he would — I know he would! 1 trusted him from
the first. Mollie, do you know why I sent for you in my
dying hour?"

"To tell me who I am."

" Yes — you would like to know?"

" More than anything else in the wide world."

" And have you no idea— no suspicion?"

Mollie hesitated.

" I have sometimes thought," reddening painfully, "that
I might be Mr. Walraven's daughter."

THE UNSEEN PRIDEGROOM.

101

'' Ah!" said Miriam, her eyes lighting; *' and he thinks so,
too!"

"Miriam!"

" \w," said Miriam, exultingly, " he thinks so— he believet
^^'), ami so does ids wife. But for all that, not one drop of his
blood flows in your veins!"

♦'Milium!"

" Not one drop! If thcrr^ did, you should not now be
itanding by my death bed. 1 would exjiire unropenting and
liiiooiifc'ssod. Moliie, you are mine — my very own — my
daiiizhtcr!"

She raised herself on her elbow and caiicht Moliie in her
amis with a sudden, fierce strength. The girl stood perfectly
speechless with the bhock.

" My child — my child — my chiid! For years 1 have hun-
L'ered and thirsted for this hour. 1 have desired it as the blind
desire sight. My child — my child! have you no woru /;)ryour
dying mother?"

"Motlier!"

The word broke from MoUio's white lips like a sobbing sigh.
The intense surpri.se of the unexpected revelation stunned her.

" You believe me, tlien- you do believe me!" Miriam cried,
holding her fast.

" You are dying." was Mullie's solemn answer. " Oh, my
mother! why did you not tell me this before?"

*' Because 1 would not disgrace you and drag you down. I
loved you far too well for that. I could have done nothing
for you but bespatter you with the mire in which I wallowed,
and I wanted you, my beautiful one — my pearl, my lily — to be
spotless as mountain ?now. It can do you no harm to know
when i am dead."

" And Carl Walraven is nothing to me?"

*' Nothing, Moliie — less than nothif)g. Not one drop of his
black blood flows in your veins. Are you sorry, Moliie?"

" No," said Mollio, drawing a long breath. '* No!" sha
repeated, more decidedly. " I am glad, Miriam — mother."

" You can call me nu)lhcr, then, liespite all?"

*' Sin-ely," Mollio said, gravely; " ami now tell me all."

*' Ah, it is a long, sad story — a wicked and miserable story
of shame, anl sin, and siilfering! It is a cruel thing to blight
your yomijj^' lifii with tlio record of such horrd)le things."

"1 mav surely beiir what others have to endure. Bnt,
Miriam, before you begin, do you really mean to tell me Mr.
Walraven thinks nr.e his daughter?"

192

THE UNSEEN BRIDEO'OOM.

" He believes it as snrely aa he bolieves In TTeavon. He
thinka you are his chilil — Mu 7 Dune's diuighte'.-."

" Who waa Mary Dimo?"

"Your fathtu-'s sister by marriage — done tr> death by Carl
Wal raven."

Mollio turned very pale.

" Tell me iill," piie (^aid. " Begin at the beginning. Here,
drinic th':? — it. is «-ine. *'

She had brouii^dit a pocIcet-flii«k with her. 81ie filled a
broken tea-ciip and licld it to the dry, pjirchud lijjs.

Miriam draint'd it eagerly.

" Ah!" she said, " that is new life! Sit do\\'n here by me,
Mollie, where 1 can see you; give me your Imnds. Kow liiten:

" MolHe, you are eitrliloen ycar.s old, tliou^^li ncillior you nor
Carl Walraven thinks bo. You are eigiili-cn tiiis ve-y month.
His child, whom he tiiinka you are, wotd I ho almost seveniecn,
if alive. She died when a hub') of two ycais old.

" Eighteen years ago, Mollie, I wis a luip'iy wife and
mother. Down in Devon rehire, in the little vilhiijo of Sl,ee2)Ie
Hill, my husband and 1 lived, wliere v/e hud b.ith b.en b'lrn,
where we had courted and married, where wo h^ped to lay
our bones at last. Alas and aliss! he fills a bloody grave in
the land of strangers, and I am drawing my hist, l)realh iti far
America. And all, Mollie— all owing 10 Carl W'aliaven."

She paused a moment. The girl held tlie cup of wine to
her lips. A few swallows revived her, and enabled her to go
on.

" There were two brothers, James and Ste])hen Dane.
James, the elder by six years, was my hubiuid and your
father. We lived in the old Dune homestead — we tline — u
huppy and prosperous household. We needed but your com-
ing, my daugbter, to fdl our cup of joy to the very brim. Xo
woman in all broad England was a happier wife and mother
than Miriam Dane when you were laid upon mv breast.

" We named our baby-girl Miriam — your father would have
it 80— and you grew liealthful and beautifid, fair and blue-
eyed, as it is in the nature of the Danes to be. I was glaij you
had not my black eyes and gyi)sy skin. I think 1 loved you
all the more because you were your father's image.

" Ah, Mollie, I never can toll you what a blessed, peaceful
household we were until you wpvq three months old! Then
the. first change took place — Stephen Dane got mai-ried.

" At Wortley Manor, juFt without the confinevS of Steeple
Hill, lived Sir Johin Worthy and his lady. They had eomo
to apend the hot mouths down in the country, and my lady

THE UNSEEN BiUDEGIiOOM.

198

Here,
illed a

Lad brought with hor a London ludy's-mai.I, full of London
airs and gracerf, Htylea and fu.-hionB. She waw a pn^tty girl,
this biixoni Mary fiintoii, with llaxen uuils, and liglit bhie
eyes, miuI a skin wliilo as milk and soft aa satin. »She nouid
Hing like an angtd, and danuo liku u fairy, and drct^s and talk
likf inv lady hi-rsclf.

" Of (iO'irsG, bt.'fore alio liad been a month in the place, she
had Ituntd tlio heads of all tho young felloivs in the village,
Steplib.i Dane's iinjong tho rest. I'.nt while alio cocjiiClLcd
with all, she smili'd most sweetly on 8te|ihen, v/iUi his threo
hundred p.Tunds laid by in bank, his broad t-houhh'rs, his lofty
stature and his liearty look:<. Three months after she camo
to Wort ley Manor, L-he was Stephen Dune's wife.

" That marriage was the beginning of all the trouble,
Mollio. 1'lu'y left the farm, this young pair, and set up a
pnblic-honso. A puhliu suited M;try Dane to tho life. IShe
llaanted in gay drosses and bright ribbons, and gossiped over
the bar with the customers, ar.tl had all tho news of the place
pat at her tongue's end. And Stephen, ho took to drink — n
little, at first, to be jovial with the (uu-itomcrs; more and more
gialually, until, at the end of (he honiy-moon, hu was iiulf
his time nn the fuildle. And Mary Dane didn't care. She
laughed in her pretty way when people talked.

" ' Lvt him take his gl.irfs, M i iam,' says she to mo. ' Ile'i
fonder of me in his (mjjx-, and betio.-natured every way, than
when he's sober. As long as my man doesn't biat me and
pull the house about our heads, I'll never say him nay.'

" it was near tho end of the second month that a sick
traveler stopped at tho Wort'ey Arms — so they called the inn
— atid lay very ill there for weeks and weeks. He had taken
(;()ld and got a fever, and ho wa^ very poorly and like to die,
Mary Datio, with all her airy ways, bad a tender heart and a
soft head, r.ni] she turned to and nursed the sick man like a
sister. They took such care of him at the Wortley Arms that
ho got Will, and in three weeks was able to be up and about.

" This strange gentleman gave the name of Mr. Walls; and
ho was young and handsome, and very rich. He spent money
like water; he paid the doctor and the landlord atd the niu'ses
as if he hail been a prince. He had a pleasant word and jest
for every ono. He was hand and glove with Stephen Dane,
and heaped presents on presents on his wife. He gave her silk
dressea and gold rings and cosily shawls and guy bonnets until
people began to talk. What did he care for their talkir what
did Mary Dane, either? He liigered and lingered. The
talking grew louder, until, at lu&t, it reached the ears of

TUi: lN.5h;EN liUIDEGUOOM.

Stephen Dane. Ue took it quietly. ' It's uiighty dull for
the likes of you here, Mr. Walla,' ho says to the gentleman,
looking him full in the eye. ' It's no place for a young gen-
tleman, in my notion. I think you had better bo going.'
" ' l3o you?' siivri Mr. Walls, l»ack aguiii, im t;oo! as liimself.

I'll BOtllo

my bill to-night aiul

* You are right, I dare say.
be off to-morrow.'

'* He did settle his bill a!, the bar brfore they ])arted, took a
last glass with Stephen Dane, and walked u]) to his room,
whistling. Steeple Hill nev»T saw him more. Wlifii morning
came he was far away, and Miiry Dane wilh hitn. "

Again Miriam paused; a^^ain Mellie held the wine-cup to
her lips; again she drank anil went on:

" I couldn't tell you, Moiiie, if I would, the shoe k and the
scandal that ran throujrh Steeple Hill, and 1 wouldn't if I
could. If it were in my powe;', such horrors would never
reach your innocent ears. J'xit they were gone, and Stephen
Dane was like a man mad. lie drank, and diank, and drank
nntil he was blind drunk, and then, in sj)ite of everybody, sot
oflf to go after them, Before he had got ten yards from his
own doorstep he fell down in a fit, blood pouring from his
mouth and nostrils. That night ho died.

" The hour of his death, when he knew he had but a fevr
moments to live, he turned erery soul out of the room, and
made his brother kneel down and take u solemn oath of venge-
ance.

" ' I'll never rest easy in my grave, dames,' said the dying
man, ' and I'll never let you rest easy in your life, until you
have avenged me on my wronger.'

" Your father kncii down and swore. It was a bad, bad
death-bed, and a bad, bad oath. But he took it; and Ste[)lien
Dane died, with his brother's hand clasped in h\?, and his
dying eyes fixed on his brother's face.

"They buried the dead man; and when the sods were piled
above him, your father told me of the vow ho had made — the
TOW he meant to keep. What coidd I say? what could I do?
1 wept woman's tears, 1 said woman's words. I pleaded, I
reasoned, I entreated — all in vain. He would go, and lui
went.

'* He followed the guilty pair, like a blood-hound, for weary
months and months. For a long time it seemed as thou<.;!i ho
must give up tho search as fruitless; but at last, in the open
street of a French city, he met the man Walls face to face.
He flew at him like a madman, grasped his throat, and held
him until the man turned black in the fao^. But ho wae

THE UNSEEX BRIDEGROOM.

195

ill for
eman,

Diself.
it and

)ll]) to

lUhe, and younsj, and powerful, and ho shook him off at last.
Then conimeit 'cd a atriig^Ie for lifo or death. The Htrcet
was a lonely one; the time past midni^'ht. No one wan
abroad; not a iroatiiro was to be aeen. Walbj ])ulled out a
pistol and shot .lames J)aue through the head. With a cry of
agony, the murdered man fell forward on his face. Another
instant, and Walls had iled. The dead man was alone in the
deserted street.

" Next day the pa])er8 were full of the mystorious murder,
but before next day Walls and Mary Dane were far awaj.
Kewards wore olTered by the government, the police were set
on the track, but all in vain — the murderer was not to be
found.

" But th re was one who knew it, and to whom the knowl-
edge was a death-blow — guilty Mary Dane. At all times she
had been more weak than wicked, and when Walls liad fled
home, blood-stained and ghastly, and in his first frenzy had
told her all, she dropped down at his feet like a dead woman.

" Mary Dane tied with him from the scene of his crime, be-
cause his baby daughter lay on her arm, and she would not
see its guilty father die a felon's death; but her heart was
torn with remorse from Ihat hour. Sho never held up her
head again. Her wicked love turned to hatred and loathing;
the very tlrat opportunity sho left him, and, like a distracted
creature, made her way home.

" Walls made no ellort to follow her — he thought she had

gone off in a lit of remorse and misery and disowned herself,
[e was glad to be rid of her, and he left France at once, and
wandered away over the world.

" Mary Dane came home with her child — home to die. On
her death-bed sho told mo the story of my husband's death,
and from the hour 1 heard it, Reason tottered on her throne.
I have never been sane since my misery drove me mad.

*' Mary Dane died, and I buried her. The child went t*
the work-house — I would not have touched it with a pair of
tongs — and there it, too, died of lack and care. And so the
miserable story of sin and shame ended, as all such stories
must end.

" But the misery did not end here. You were left me, but
1 seemed to care for you no longer. I sat down, a stunned
and senseless thing, and let all belonging to me go to rack
and ruin. The farm wont, the furniture went, the homestead
wont — 1 was left a widowed, penniless, half -crazed wretch.
Thus all was gone but the clothes upon our backs — ^you went,
loOk We w«r« stftrving^ bat for the pityiug charity of oihtra

196

THE UNSEKN lilllDKOROOM.

Aa yoii sat tiing'm^^ by tlio roaJ-aide, the iimimgor of n strolling
band of pluyois ovorhoard you, took a fancy to your {trotty
looks, ami wayrf, an<l voice, and niado ni" an oJTor for yon. I
don't think I knew what I mm doing half thu time — I didn't
then — I k-t. yon go.

"When yon wore gon'j I broke down aItogC'th;>f, and tlio
anthorities of the village took and shnt mo np in a lunatic
asylum. The years 1 spent then! — ami 1 spent ^ix l.'Ug ycarj
— are but a didl, dead blank. My life began aga.n when lir.'y
sent mo forth, as they said — L;(n'ed.

"I left Steeple Hill and began my life as a tramp. I
joined a band of gypsies, and i.)ok to lla-ir ways — foilune-
tolling, rnsh-weaving — anytinng that eamo up; and 1 was
blaok enough and weather-beaten enougli tr> p:'.is for one of
them. I had but one desire li.ft in lif .• — lo hunt iiu the man-
ager of the little theater, and see my daughl'-r again. 1
didn't want you back. Wluit could I, a ndserablo tramjv,
homeless, housdess, do with a young giri? — but J hungi-rod
and thirsted for the sound of your voire, f'->r tl;j .sigl't of your
face. 1 would know you anywhere — you Vv'eie oi the kind
that do not change much. I knew 1 would reeogni/.o yo.i as
soon as 1 saw you.

" For two years I strolled about with tlio gypsy gaug»
searching in vain. Thon mv tiniO came, and I t^w you. It
was at Liverpo!)!, end)arking on board a vessol for Anii-riv'a.
I had money — made in those two yeuvs;' wandering— hii'di'n
in my breast, more than enough for my paaoag;.«. I crost;t.td
the Atlantic in the same vessel with you, and never luct sigiit
of you since.

" But a great, a mighty shock v.as waiting for mo this sido
tho ocean. On the pior. as wo lauded, MoUie, th.? iirsi, person
my eyes rested on was the man Walls — older, darker, etorii-r
than when I saw him before, but my arch-enemy — the miu.
derer Walls.

" Mollie, I let you go and I followed that man home,
followed him to a mansion that was like a palace, and 1 hcaril
his name — his real name. Mollie, Moilie, do you need to be
told what that naiue is?"

'* No," said Mollie, in a horror-struck voice; " it is Carl
Walravenl"

" It is. Now do yovi know why 1 hato aim — why I would
die the death of a dog by the way-side before 1 would take a
erust from him?"

" Aud yet," Mollie cried in a voice of bitter anguish, " you

THE UNSEEN nniDEGUOO.U.

nave lot mo, .fuinos Dane's ^^h\^, cih of hi.s hwml, drink of liia
cup, (I'.v.ll uvAev his roofl Ul), my nioil:- '"

Al thii^ p'orciiif^ cry of uiiuttorablij ^cproiieli, tho dyh\i>
vrouuvA held uii her siii»pli.';itiri(^ Imnd--.

" (t w.M b.:ciiii«o 1 love. I yi-ii a th"iK--!inil timoH beltof Ihiitj
niy;uf— 1)'. tier tlmn my rovonge. i'or^'ivo mo, MoUie — ".vr-
{/i.e me!"

" "^'oii aro my mother, unrl yon are <lying," Mf/Ilid eaid-
palv^miilv, bending down und ki-'.-ing her. " 1 forgive you
cvcryMiing. Ikit J will never eet foot umlor Cail V/aU'aven'a
roof again."

CIIAPTKJi XX VV.

1) K A J) A N I) II I' i; T i; 1).

TiTK twilight wa;5 f,d!'i)g wi h'lut— !!i.j iiit silvery radianco
<•[ the dying (h;y htruani-'d Lii:n::L'!i tho dirty, broken attio
window, and lighted, an wiUi a pale glory, iMoUio's drooping
licad atid oani'-st, riMldened face.

Miriam hti.l ftillen buok upon tlio p'ilov/, exhausted, pant-
ing, laboring for lireath.

Tlioic! was a long panse; then ^.Tollie lifU'd her bowed head
untl drew closer to the dying woman.

" l''inish your ytory," isho laid, f:oftly, sadly.

"It i;-! liniHlied," Miriiini answered, in a voice, scarcely
above a whis])er. *' ^'on know the rccit. I went to yon, as
you remembor, Ihu day after you laiuu'd, and proved to you
that 1 wa'^ yoiu" aimt — a f:ii.sehooil, MolU.', which my love and
my l)ri le be;i;ot.

"Some dim reoullectioii of mo and your childhood's d-iys
yet lingered in your breast — you believed me. You told mo

you were going to K . You gave me money, anil promised

to write to me. You were so sweet, so gentle, so pitying, so
beautiful, tliat 1 lo.ed you tenfold more than ever. Your life
was one of laliov, and drudgery, and danger. If I could only
make you a lady, I thought! My half-orazcrl bniin caught at
the idea, and held it fast — if I could only make you a lady!

" Ijiko lightning those dawned upon me a plan. The man
who had wronged ha all so unutterably was rich and powerful
— why should I not u.-e him? Huioly, it could not bo wrong
— it woidd bo a j';.-t and ri;;hteous rejiaralion. 11(5 need not
kTiow you were my ebild— with that knowledge J would far
sooner have seen you dead than (IiM)('nd(mt upon him — but let
him think vou were his very own (Mary Dane's) dead child,
uud where would bo tho oblit'^tion?

THE UNREFN URTDEOROOM.

** I ooulcl iioidior hIocji nor eat foi tliiiiking of this plot of
mine. Your iiim;ji;o, bright and Vjoiuitifiil in .silken robes and
sparivIinjEf jewelH, \Viiit',;i] upon by obedient sorvantB, u life of
case and luxurv for my diirling whom 1 hiid drsortod — a lady
among the hulios of llio land — haunted mu by night and by
day.

"I yielded at last. I went to Carl ^VaI raven, and stood
boldly up bi«for(5 him, and faeed him until he rpjailed. Con-
idienco makes towards of the bravest, they say, and I suppose
)♦. was moio hiaguiliy con .cioneu than fear of me; but the fear
,vas there. I threatened him with exposure — 1 threatened to
let the world know his biaek eriuiDS, until ho turned white as
the dead before me.

" He knew and I knew, in our heait of hearts, that I could
do nothing. JIow could I substantiate a charge of murder
done years ago in I'Vanee? — how prove it? How bring It
home to him? My wordi? would bo treated as the rarings of u
mad-woman, ana 1 would be locked up in a mad-house for my
pains.

" But knowing all this, and knowing 1 knew it, ho never-
theless feared me, , -I'l promised to do all I wished. lie kept

his word, la you know, lie went to K , and, seeing you,

became as desirous of you as I would have had him. Your
brigliL, girlish beauty, the thought that you were his daughter,
did the rest. He brought you home with him, and grew to
love you dearly."

" Yys," Mollle said, very sadly, " he loves mo dearly. I
ehotdd abhor and hate the murderer of my father, I suppose,
but somehow I can not. Mr. Walraven has been very good to
me. And now, mother, tell me why you came on the day of
his marriage, and strove to prevent it? You did not really
think he was going to marry nie?"

" I never thought so," said Miriam. " It was one of my
mad freaks — an evil wish to torment him. I have been a
nightmare to him ever since my first appearance. 1 hardly
know whether he hates or fears me most But that is all past
and gone. I will never torment him again in this world.
Give me more wine, Mollie — my lips are parched."

Miriam moistened her dry mouth and fell back, ghastlv and
breathing hard. Mollie rose from the bedside with a heavy
sigh.

** You will not leave mo?" the dying woman whispered, in
ularni, ojjeuing her glascy eyes.

** Only for a moment, mother. V-:. Tngelow is below. 1
must speak with him."

THE INSEEN BRIDEOKOOM.

199

)(;of
und
of
lady
J by

' I came to
hor Hguin.

toll you 1
You can

Sh« gliih'd from llm .nom uml wcnl ilowii-Btairs.

Iliigli fngelovv, leaning,' aj^'aiinl tlio dfior-pLat, suioKiug a
wnlaiiinj^ t^igur, and watciiino- tho new moon risi-, started uu
he upiifart'd. She looked ho iiiilikc h<!iself, fo like a !''])irit,
that lie droiijiud hin (li^ar and Htured aghast.

*' Is she dead?" ho asked.

•* She is dying," Mullie vT'^wcred. '
will stay to the last — 1 will n ' leave
not, neud not wait longer lioro, Mr. Inyclow."

" I will not leave yon," Mr. jjigolosv eaid, rcBolutely, " if I
have to stay a week. <iood Leaven:!, Mollie! what do you
tiiink I am, to leave you alone and anprotectcd in this beasHy
placoi"'

" I will bo safe enongli," Mollio said with a wan smile at
hia vehemence. " I daro say tho worst crime these poor peo-
ple are guilty of is poverty.'*

" I will not leave you," Hugh Ingelow reiterated. " I will
go upstairs and stay in tho passage all night il you will find
mo a chair. I may bw needed."

" You are so kinul" raising her eloquent eyes; " but it is
tco much — "

■■' Not one whit too much. Don't let us waste words over
a trillo. \A'.t ua go up."

Ife ran lightly up tho rickety staircase, and Mollie, i)ausing
a moment to tap at Mrs. 81immens' door, and ask her to
share her last vigil, slowly followed, and returned to the soU
enui chamber of death.

Mrs. Slimmens, worthy tvonuin, saw to Mr. Ing'jlow's com-
fort. She found a chair and a little table and a pillow for
the young gentleman, and fixed him as agreeably as possible
on the huiding. Tho patient artist laid tho j)ilh)w upon the
table and his head thereon, and slept the sleep of tho just.

Tho long night wore on; Miriam lay, white and hiill, thfl
fluttering breath just there and no more. After midnight she
sunk lower and lower with every passing hour. As day-dawn,
pale and blank, gleamed dimly across the night, the everlast-
mg day dawned for her. Sinful and suH'eriug, she was at
rest.

Only once she had spoken. Just before tlu! last great
change came, the dulled, glazed eyes opened and fixed them-
selves on Moliie.

*' My darling — my darling!" she whispered, with a last
look of unuttornble love.

Then a shiver shook her from head to foot, the death-rattle
aouuded, the eyeballs rolled upward, and Miriam was dead.

200

THE UNSEKX BRIDEGROOM.

liniaiena'' will er} broujrlit llii^li Inijelow into the

llv' (Tosseil thf r<H)ni to whoiv AJolIio knelt, rigid ami

Mrs.
room,
colli.

" Mollie!" he vvhixpoi-cd, ijcn'iing tenderly down ; " my owii
',ie:ir MoUi.'!"

Sho lookeJ lip vaguely, ami saw wlio it was.

" .She was my inoihor, Hugh," shu Hii'id, and slipped heavily
backward in his arms, whiLs' and still.

MoUie did not faint. She lay -t. moment in a violent tremor
and faintless, her face hidden on liis iihouldcr; then she lifted
her face, white as the dead— white a.-^ snow.

"She was my mother, Hugh,'' .she repeated— "my own
mother."

" Your mother, Mollic? And T thought Carl V.'airaven— "

"Oh, hush! not thai name here. Ho is nothing to mo —
less than nothing. I shall never see him again."

" Are you not going home?"

" 1 have no iKimo," said Mollie, mournfully. " 1 will stay
here until she is buried. After that — ' suilicient unto tho
day is the evil ( hereof. ' You will help me, .Afr. Ingelow?"
looking piteously up. " 1 don't know wiuit to do."

" I will help you," Ivi said, tenderly, " my poor little for-
lorn darling: but only on one condition — that you will grant
me a favor."

" What?" looking at him wondeiingly.

" That you will go and lie down, j ou need sleep — go witJi
Mr:% Slimmens — eat some breakfast, and try to sleep away
tho morning. Don't make yourself uneasy about anything—
all shall be arra?!geil as well as if you were here, ^'ou will do
this for mo, Mc/Ilie?"

"Anything for you, Ifu';;]!." Mollie reiilicd, hardly know-
ing what she said; " i)iit ] u-jI as though I shi.idd never fc'loe]>
again."

Nevertlieless, when led away by Mrs. Siimmens, and a cup
of warm tea aumiiii:itered, and safely tueked in a clean i-ttaw
''•d, Millie's heavy eyelids closed in a deep, liream!* ss sleei*.
That blessed slumber which aeaks the eyisof youth, despite
every trouble, wrapped her in its comforting arms for many
hours.

It was high noon when Mollie awoke, refreshed in body and
mind. She rose at once, bathed hei' J'uee and brusnod her
curls, and (juitted the bedroom.

Mrs. Slimmens, in tho little kil.hen, was bustling about
^.ho midday meal.

" Your dinuer is all ready, Mk^ Diaia/' that worthy worn-

THE UNSEEN BRIDEGPOOM.

201

an siiid, '' and tho young gentleman told me not on any ac-
count to allow you upstairs again until you VI hiwl it. Hit right
down here. I've got some nice broiled chicken and blanc-
mange. "

" You've never gone to all this trouble and expense for me,
I hope?" reinonstrateil Moliie.

'* La, no; 1 hadn't the money. The young gentleman had
'em ordered here from the restaurant up-street. Sit right
down at once."

" Dear, kind, considerate Hugh I" ]\IoIlio thought, as she
took her i)lace at the tidy table. " Where is he now, Mrs,
Slimmens?"

" Crone for his own dinner, miss, or his breakfast; I don't
know which, seoin' he's had nothing all day but a cup of tea
1 gave him this morning. He's been and had the poor creeter
u{)stairs laid out beautiful, and tho room fixed uji, and tho
I luidertaker's man's been here, a-measurin' her for her coffin.

She's to be buried to-morrow, you know."

" Yes, I know. Poor Miriam! poor mother!"

Moliie finished her meal and went at once upstairs. The
chamber of death looked ghastly enough, draped with white
sheets, which hid the smoky, blotched walls; the stove had
been rcmovetl, the iloor scrubbed, the window washed and
ilung open, and on the table stood two large and beautiful
bouquets that scented the little room with sweetest odors of
rose and mignonette.

On the bod, snowily draped in a white shroud, lay Miriam,
her hands folded across her bosom, a linen cloth covering tho
dead face, liy tho bod a watciier sat — a decently dressed
woman, who rose wi a sort of (juestioning courtesy upon
the entrance of the young lady.

" 'i'his is M.rs. Harmen, Miss Dane," said Mrs. Slimmens.
" She's the person that fixed the shroud and helped tidy up,

She's to take s])ell8 witli you and me watching until the
funeral com«»8 off."

" Very well," said ^lollic, quietly. " Perhaps she had

bettor go down with you for the present. 1 will remain here
for the rest of the day."

Tho two women ((uittod the apartment, and Jfollic was loft
alone. She removed the clotli atid gazed sadly on the rigid
face.

"Poor soul!" she tiioiight. bitterly, "hers was a hard,
hard life! Oli, f'arl Walruveu! If yoi c.julil look upon your
work, surely even you would f«el remorse."

202

THE UNSEEN BRIDEGROOM.

The entrance of Hugh Ingelow aroused her. She turned to
him her pale, s«veet face and earnest blue eyea.

" 1 want to thank you so much, Mr. Ingclow, and 1 can
flot. You are very, very, very good."

He took the hand she held out and kissed it.

" One word from you would repay me for ton times as
much. May 1 share your watch for a couple of hours?'*

" For as long as you will. 1 want to tell you the story she
told me on her death-bed. You have been so good to me —no
brother could have been more— that 1 can have no secrets
from you. Besides, you must understand why it is I will re-
turn tio Mr. Walraven's no more."

" No more?" he echoed in surprise.

" Never again. 1 never want to see him again in this
world. 1 will tell you. I know the miserable secret is as
safe with you as in my own breast."

If MolJie had loved Hugh Ingelow less dearly and devoted-
ly than she did, it is doubtful if she would have revealed the
dark, sad history Miriam had unfolded. But he had her
heart, and must have every secret in it; so she sat and told
him, simply and sadly, all her father's and mother's wrongs.
Mr. Ingelow listened in horrified amaze.

" So now, you see, my friend," she concluded, " that I can
never cross Carl Walraven's threshold more."

" Of course not," cried Mr. Ingelow, impetuously. " Good
heavens! what a villain that man has been! They ought to
hang, draw, and quarter him. The iuHiction of such a wife
as Madame Blanche has been is but righteous retribution.
You should expose him, Mollie."

" And myself? No, no, Mr. Ingelow. T leave him in
higher hands. The mill of the gods grinds slow, but it grinds
sure. His turn will come, be certain of that, sooner or later.
AH I will do is, never to look upon his guilty face again."

"What do you moan to do, Mollie? But I suppose yo«
have no plan formed yet."

He spoke in a matter-of-fact tone, looking at her askance,
and Mollie sighed wearily.

" Yes, I have a plan. I intend to leave New York as soon
as possible after to-morrow."

" Indeed. May I ask — to go where?"

•' Mr. Ingelow, 1 shall join my old company again. They
will bo glad to have nic, I know. 1 have always kept up a
correspondence witii a friend I had in the troupe, and she con-
tinually, half in jest, wholly in earnest, urges my return.
They are down in Kentucky now. I will write to the man-

THE rXSEEN BRIDEGROOM.

203

aajer. He will forward me the funds to join them, I know.
While 1 wait for his answer and remittance, good Mrs. Slim-
mens will provide mo a home."

8he ceased, and rieinj: up, walked over to the window.

Now was Mr. Ingelow'c time, surely, if he cured for Mollis
at all; but Mr. Ingelon- spoke never a word, lie sat in dead
silence, looking at the little figure by the window, knowing
she was crying quietly, and making no attempt to '.vlpts away
those tears by one tender word.

The afternoon wore away. As the twilight fell, Mr. Jtage-
low took his departure, and MoUie went down to Mrs. Slim-
mens' for a reviving cup of tea.

" 1 have everything arranged for the funeral, MoUie," Mr.
Ingolow said at parting. " I will be here by nine o'clock to-
morrow. Don't giie yourself the least anxiety hbout the mat-
ter, Mollie."

The young man departed. Mollie had her toast, and re-
turned to the death-room. She remained there until past
midnight with Mre. Harmen; then, at Mrs. Slimmens' ear-
nest request, she retired, and that good woman took her place.
At ten next day, the humble funeral corthjc started. Mr.
Ingelow sat in the carriage with Mollio, but they spoke very
little during the melancholy drive.

It was a dismal day, with ceaseless rain, and sighing wind,
and leaden sky. Mollie cosvered in a corner of the carriage,
her pale face gleaming like a star above her black wraps, the
bright blue eyes unutterably mournful.

And Hugh Ingelow watched her with an indescribable ox-
])rcssion in his fathomle^ evea, and made no effort to console
her.

The sods rattled on the cof!in-lid, the grave was filled up,
and everybody was hurrying away out of the rain.

It was all over, like some dismal dream, and Mollie, shiver-
ing under her shawl, took one last backward look at the grave
of her mother, and was harried back to the carriage by Hugh
Ingelow.

But she was so deathly white and cold, and she trembled
with such nervous shivering, that the young man drew her to
him in real alarm.

" You are going to be ill, Mollie," ho said. " You are
ill"

" Am I?" said Mollie, helplessly. " I don't know. 1
hope not. I want to go awav so much."

*' 8o much? To leave me) Mollie?"

204

THE UNSEEN BRIDKGIlOO'jI.

Mollie lifted her heavy eyes, filled with unutterable re-
proach.

" You don't care," she said. " It is notliing to you. And
it should be nothing," suddenly romenib\3rin<? hersolf and sit-
ting up. " Please let nie go, Mr. Jngelow. We muat part,
and it la better so."

Mr. Ingelow released her without a word. Mollie sat up,
drew a letter from her pocket, and handed it to him. Uo
saw it was addressed to Carl Walraven, and looked at her in-
quiringly.

" 1 wish you'to read it," she said.

It was unsealed, lie opened it at once, and read:

"Mr. Walrvven, — Miriam is dead— Miriam Dane — my
mother. She deceived you from first to hist. 1 am no
daughter of yours — for which I humbly thank (Jod! — no
daughter of Mary Dane. 1 am Miriam's chiiil; yoius died in
the work-house in it.-' babyhood. 1 know my own story — 1
know your haTid is roil with my father's blooii. I don't for-
give you, Mr. Walraven, but iieither do I accu'c you. 1 sim-
ply never will see you a'.^;!-in. Mr. Ingelow will hand you this.
He and I alone know the story. Maky Dane."

Mr. Ingelow looked up.

*' Will it do?" she asked.

*' Yes. Am 1 to deliver it?"

"If you will add tha^ kindness to yonr others. 1 don't
th'nk he will seek me out. He knows bettor than thr.t. "

Ilor head dropped against the side of the carriage. The
fane usually so sparkling looked very, very pido, and worn,
and sad. "J'he young artist took her hand and iudd it j-
ment at parting.

" You intend to write to your old manager to-morro(v,
Mollie?"

"Yes."

"Don't do it. Postpone it another day. I am coming
here to-morrow, and 1 have a di.'Terent plan 5»i my h^^ad thai
] think will suit better. Wait until to-morrow, Mollie, and
trust me."

Ills eyes llashrd with an electric fire that thrdied the girl
through.

What did he mean? But Mr. Ingelow had sprung into the
carnage again and was gone.

THK UNSEEN SiaiJ:»EQROOM.

SiUu

re-

up.
Ho

rii-1

CITAI'TKU XXVin.

CRT C K K T ' S If i: S 1! A N I) .

Mu. Carl Wai.uavkn sat alono in his private room in a
BroiidiviW liote], Hiaokiii<;f an after-breakfut-t cigar, aiul
looking lazily at tli:.' stn-ani of pooplo hurrying up and
down. U was the morning following Miriam's funeral, of:
which he, ot course, had hoard nothing, lie had h.'fc the oily
aftor iiis itiit.'rvicvv witli his wife, and had hut just returned.
He had not gone home, but ho had notified Mr. Sardonyx oi
his presence in town, and signili'-d tluit that gentleman was to
wait, upon him imnuiliately.

reniling hia arrival, Mr. Wal raven sat and smoked, and
stared at the pasiers-by, and wondered, with an internal
ehuckle, how Mme. lilanchc f. It by this time, and whether
Mollio was lonely or not, shut up in the deserted mansion.

"if she'll consent, I'il take her to Europe," mused Carl
Walravon. " It will be delightf. ' to go over the old places
with so fresh a companion as my sparkling httle Cricket.
Jiut I'm not sure that olio'll go — yhe's a great deal too fond
of young Ingelow. Well, he's a line fellow, and I've no ob'
je(!tion."

Mr. Walraven's reflections were interrupted by the entranco
of Mr. Sardonyx. The lawyer bowed; his employor nodtUni
carelessly.

" How do, Sanlonyx? Find a chair. I've got back, you
see. And now, liow's things progressing?"

" Favorably, Mr. Wahaven. All goes well."

" And madame has gone packing, I hope?"

" Mrs. W'alraven left fo/ ^'(Mikers yesterday. 1 accom-
panied her and saw her safely to her new liome. "

" How does she take it?"

" In sullen silence. She doesn't deign to speak to me; but
with her cousin it is (juito another nuitter. lie Inid the hardi-
hood to call u[)on her in my presence, and you .should have
seen her. By dove, sir! she ilew out at him like a tigress.
Doctor (ruy departed without standing cix the order of his go-
ing, and hasn't had the courage to try it on since."

Mr. Wahaven smiled grimly.

" That's as it should bo. Aj)art, they are harmless; to-
gether, they are the devil's own. And now, hcw's the moth-
er, and how's Mollier"

*' Your mother is us well u.s usual; 1 believe. As to Miss

206

THE UNSEEN BKIDEGltOOM.

Dane," lifting his eyobrowa in surprise, " have you not
heard?"

" Heurd wliat?-*

** Why, that she has gone."

" Gonel" cried Carl Wulraven, "gone again? What the
foul fiend does the gi:! mean? Has she buen carried off a
third time?"

*' Oh, dear, no! nothing of that sort. Miss J)ano and Mr.
Ingelow departeti together late in the afternoon of the same
day you left, and neither has since been heard of. "

Mr. Sardonyx made this extraordinary statement with a
queer smile just hovering about the corners of his legal
mouth. His employer looked at him sternly.

"See here, Sardonyx," he said; "none of your insinua-
tions. Miss Dane is my ward, remember. You are her jilted
lover, 1 remember. Therefore, 1 can make allowances, liut
no insinuations. If Miss Dane and Mr. Ingelow left together,
you Lnow as well as I do there was no impro])riety in their
doing so. "

*' Did I say there was, Mr. Walraven? 1 mean to insinu-
ate nothing. I barely state facta, told mo by your servants."

" Did Mollie leave no word where she was going?"

*' There was no need; they know. This was the way of it:
a ragged urchin came for her in hot haste, told her Miriam
was dying, and desired her presence at once, to reveal some
secret of vital importance. Miss Dane dei)arted at onoe.
Mr. Ingelow chanced to be at the house, and he acconi))anied
her. Neither of them has returned."

The face of Carl Walraven turned slowly to a dead, sickly
white as he heard the lawyer'? words, lie rose slowly and
walked to one of the opposite windows, keeping his back
turned to Sardonyx.

'* Has there been no letter, no message of any sort since?"
he inquired, huskily, after a pause.

*' None. No one in your household knows even where this
Miriam resides. As for Mr. Ingelow, 1 called twice at the
studio since, but each time to find it locked. "

There was a tap at the door.

*' Come in," said the lawyer.

And enter a waiter, with a card for Mr. Walraven. That
gentleman took it with a start.

" Speak of the — Hugh Ingelow!" he mmttered. " Sar-
donyx, I wish to see Ingelow in private. I'll drop into your
office in the course of the day."

THE UNSEEN- BRIDEGROOM.

307

>?"

That

Mr. Sardonyx bowed and took his hat and his departure at
oii(;u.

Mr. Ingelow and he crossed oiioh otlior on the threshold.

The young artist entered, ills liandsomo face set, and grave^
jiiiil stern.

Mr. Walraven saw that cold, fixed face with a sinicing
liPiirt.

" (rood-morning, Ingelow," ho said, trying to nod and
s;)eak indilTereritly. " Take a seat and tell me the ne\?8.
I've been out of town, you know."

" 1 know," Mr. Ingelow said, availing himself of the
profTored chair only to lean lightly against it. " Thanks.
No, I prefer to stand. My business will detain you but a
few minutes. 1 come from Miss Dane."

lie spoke with cold sternn ss. lie could not forget the
horrible fact that the man before him was a profligate and a
murderer.

"Ahl" Carl Walraven said, with ashen lips. "She is
well, I trust?"

" She is we... She desired me to give you this."

He hold out the note. The hands of the millionaire shook
as ho tried to open it.

" Where is she?" ho asked.

" She is with friends. Kead that note; it exjilains all.**

" Have you read it?" Carl Walraven asked with sudden,
fierce suspicion.

"I have," answered Mr. Ingelow, calmly; "by Miss
Dane's express desire."

Mr. Walraven opened the note and read it slowly to the
end. llis face changed from athen gray to the livid hue of
ilcatli. lie lifted his eyes to the face of the young artist, and
th'jv iriowed like the burning eyes of a hunted beast.

'MVeli?"

It was all he said, and he sent the word hissing hot and
iieroo from between his sot tooth.

" That is all my errand hero, Mr. Walraven," the young
man said, his cool brown eyes looking the discovered mur-
derer through. " I know all, and I believe all. You have
been duped from first to last. Miss Dane is no child of yours,
thank God!"

He raised his hand as he uttered the solemn thanksgiving,
with a go.iture that thrilled the guilty man through.

" Your secret is safe with her and with me," pursued
Hugh Ingelow, after a pauae. " You may live to the end of

208

THE UNSEEN 1)1} IDEO ROOM,

your ii*.' iinrmlosfod of man, for us, but yoii mii.st novcr look
upon M liin' Da no'.- fucL' moiv. "

Ciii'l \\'ii!iMvou su'iiv ilowu into a (;h;iir iuul oorercil his face,
with a ^f'tir). llii:;h Iiigi.'k)w liirned to go.

"St:'r,>:" Mr, Wiunivon sui<l, hoHm:!".-. " Whiit h to bo-
eomo o:' ir r? Avo you goirij^ to juu'-ry h -r, IFti^^h liigolow?'-'

"1 iloolino fMisv.-ering tluit (]U(\stion, ivir. AVairavou/' tho
artist said, htin'i'ut!!','. " -Miss Dano will bo cared for- be-
Jieve th;it. I vvii^h you good-mornillL^ "

Mr. hvjjeloH' was very pale whon iio omv^rgcd into thronged
Broadway, hut tlioi'o was no indecision in liis niovemnntH.
Ho hailed a hack piv>sing, sj)ning in, and was driven rapidly
to tho east side — to I iio humble abode of Mrs. .Slinimens.

Mollin came forth to m(;!:>i. him, worn and sad, and witii
traces of tear:^, but with a briiiht. glsid light in iicr starry (708
at sight of him — the light of sweet yoiuig love.

" 1 have seen idm, Moilie," ho said. '" 1 gave him your
letter. Vnu would hardly h-wo known him, he looked so ut-
terly aghast and confounded, lie Vt'ill not try to see you, I
am Gortiiin. And now, my dear girl, for that other and bet-
ter plan that 1 sjiuko of la.st cveinng. r>ut first you must take
a drive with me — a somewhat lengthy drive.''

She looked at him wonderinLdy, but in no fear.

" A drive," bhe repeated. '""Where?"

" Only to Harlem — not quite out of the world," with a
smile. " Tho carriage is waiting. Go ])ut on your bonnet,
and come."

" It is very odd," thought Moilie.

But she obeyed implicitly, and in Ave minutes they were
rattling along over tho stony streets.

" Won't you tell n;e now?" tlio young lady asked.

" Kot yot. Let the mvoLory develop itself as it does in a
noveL Trust to mo, and pn;pare for a great shock."

She gHzed at him, utterly uuaUlo to com})reheud. He was
smiling, but he v.'hs strangely nale.

" It is no kv.it, sui'oly," ^Moilie taid. " It is something seri-
ous. \ou look as though it wtne."

"ll'i^en knows I never v/as more serious in my life.
Don't a-k any more (jucstions now, rvlollio; but if I have ever
done yo:; tlu^ sligld/.'st service, try to b'jar it in mind. You
will need to reniefiiber it t-hv)rtly, and I will stand sorely in
want of all your m.ignaniinily. '''

lie sai i no more, and MoliJn uit in a dazed state, but .still
happy, ao she ever must bo liy his ti.ii . And on, and on,
and on they rattled, and the (lity was left behind, and th«y

THE UNSKEN HUIDKfJriOOU.

209

wo>'o diivinj^ throu.i>h the rjuict of ilarlein,. grocu and pretty
in it.-i suijiiuury fros-liiu; •;.■!.

The driver, oboyinjj Bcmo directions of Mr. Ingelow, turned
'i|) ii .shady greiMi htne muling in a high gate-WJiy.

They oil Lured the guLe-Wiiy and ilrov -j up through a long
.'.venue of waving trees to u scpuire, fair mansion of gleaming
white — .1 lavgo wooden structure with intensely green blinds,
all closely shut.

MoUie sat and looked in speechless expectation. Mr. inge<
low, volunteering no explanation, a3;iistoil her out, desired
cabby to wait, ojje.ned the door with a latch-key, and ushered
Mollio in.

MMie entrance-hall wa^j very much like any other entrance-
hall; so, likewise, Vvas the broad stair-way; so, aloo, the upper
landing.

Jt was only when Mr. Ingelow, pausing before ono of the
doors in the second hall, f<[;oke, that Mollic received her lirst
shock.

" You will e»)ter hero, Mollie, and wait. Prepare yourself
for a g.eat surprise — a terrible surprise, perhaps."

lie bowed and left her, patising into another room, and
closing the door.

All in an agitated lluttei-, Mollio opened her door and en-
tered. But on the thrishoM she paused, with a shrill cry of
wonder, tf^rror, and doubt; for tlie padded walls and lloor,
the blind windi)ws, th(! lighted lamp, the bed, the furniture,
were all recognized in a moment.

It was the room where she had been first imprisoned — where
she had consented to miirry the lua.skeil man.

A fjuiet figure rose from a chair under the lamp and faced
iier Willi a courtesy. It was the girl who had lured her from
her homo — 8arah (J rant.

" Come in, miss," said this young person, as though they
had just parted an hour ago. " Master told me to expect
you. Sit tlown; ho'II bo here in a minute. You look fit to
drop."

iShe felt " lit to dro]), " Slv' sunk into the prolTered sfnt,
trembling through evt ry li-ub ui her body, overwhelmed with
a stunning consciousness that the supreme moment of her iifo
had come.

iSarah (Irant left the room, and Mollio was alone. Hep
eyes turned to the door, and llxed tli 'juselves there as if fas-
cinated, ller head was awhirl— her mind a blank. Sorae-
tbing tremendous was about to liappen — whyfc, she could not
thmk.

210

THE UNSEEN BRIDEGROOM,

The door opened slowly — the man in the hlack mask strode
in and stood, silent and awful, before li(3r.

Without a word or ory, but white aa death, she rose up and
confrontetl him with wild, dilated eyes.

'* You know me, Mollie," the masked man said, addressing
her, as before, in French — " I am your husband."

" Yes," Mollie answered, her white lips scarce able to form
the words. " For God's sake, take olT that mask and show
me your face!"

Without a word, he unclasped the cloak and let it slip on
the floor; he removed the flowing hair and beard, and with it
the mask. And uttering a low, wailing cry, Mollie staggered
back — for there before her, pale as herself, stood the man she
loved — Hugh Ingelow!

CHAPTER XXIX.

WHICH WINDS UP THE BUSINESS.

He stood before her, pale and stern, his eyes fixed upon her,
AS a culprit before his judge waiting sentence of death.

But Mollie never looked. After that one brief, irrepressible
cry, she had fallen back, her face bowed and hidden in her
hands.

" You shrink from me, Mollie," Hugh Ingelow said; " you
will not even look at me. I knew it would be so. I know I
deserve it; but if I were never to see you again, I must tell
you the truth all the same. Yes, Mollie, recoil from me, hate
me, spurn me, for the base, unmanly part I have acted. It
is not Doctor Oleander who is the dastard, the villain, the ab-
ductor of weak women — it is I!"

She did not speak, she did not move, she made no sign that
she even heard him.

" It will avail me little, I know," he continued, " to tell
you I have repented the dastardly deed in bitterness of spirit
since. It will avail nothing to tell you how I have hated my-
self for that cruel and cowardly act that made me your hus-
band. I think you maddened me, Mollie, with your heartless,
your insulting rejection, and I did love you passionately. I
swore, in my heart of hearts, I would bo avenged, and, Mollie,
you know how I kept my vow."

Still no replj', still no movement on Mollio's part. She
stood half bowed, her head averted, her face covered by her
hands.

" It drove me into a sort of frenzy, the thought of your be-

THK UNSKEN HKIDEGUOOM.

coming Sir Rogor Trujonnu's wife. If he had been a young
iNun, uiiil ynti had lovod him, I would Imvo bowod my huaii,
as boforo u sluine, Hud gone my way and triod to forgivo you
uiul wish you ha])j)incss. liut I know bettor. I know you
wero soiling yoursolf for an old man's rank, for an old num's
golil, and I tried to dospiso and hato you. I tried to think
that no base act I could commit would be baaor than the mar-
riage you wore ready to make. A plan — mad, impracticable
iw my own mad love, ihidhcd acroaa my brain, and, like many
other things impossible in theory, I did iti It seemed an im-
possiblity to tear you from the very altar, and make you my
wife, all unknown, but I did it. 1 had this house here, un-
inhabited, furnished. I had a friend rcaily to help me to the
death. I disguised myself like a hero of romance, I decoyed
you here, forced you to consent, I married you I"

Still mute, still dropping, still averted, still motionless.
There was a tremor in Hugh Ingelow's steady voice when ho
went on.

" Ilow hard it was for me, what a cruel, cold-blooded mon-
itor I felt myself, how my very heart of hearts was touched by
your sulTering here, I can not tell. IJesidos, it would seem
like mockery, since all my compassion did not make me spare
you. ]»ut from the moment you set foot here 1 considered it
too late; and then, besides, Mollio, I was mad with love of
you. I could not let you go. You yielded — you consented
to barter yourself for freedom, as once before you consented
for gold. I brought the Itevorend liaymond Kashleigh here
— he married mo under my second name of Ernest — as you
know. "

He paused again. Still no sign, and then ho went on:

"1 let you go. 1 did not dare reveal myself, but I kept
my j)romiso. Ilate mo, Mollio, as you will; despise me, as
you must — but try and think how dearly I love you. I would
lay down my life for you, my darling Mollie. That would be
an easy sacrifice; it remains for mo to make a greater one.
A divorce shall set you free. J myself will obtain that di-
vorce, ^o one knows of our marriage — no one ever shall
know. I will leave you free — free as the wind that blows — to
go forth and make happy a more honorable and deserving
man. Only, Mollie, no man ever will love you as I love you!"
Ills voice failed. lit turned abruptly away, and stood as it
waiting for her to speak. But she never uttered a word.

He took her silence for a token of her utter scorn and hate.

" Farewell then, Mollie," he said. " 1 go, and 1 will never
molest you more. The carriage that brought you here will

THE UNSEEN iminEOROOW.

fetch you liomo agsiin. But before wo piirt forever, lot mo suy
this — if you ever want i\ frioml, >ind uiiii so far forgive nio the
wrong I huvo done you ha to cull upon mo for help, thee,
Mollio, I will try to repair my iinpiinlouiiI)Io ollenso."

IIo walked to the door, ho turned the handle, ho gave ono
last, despairing look — and what did ho seo? A little, white
hand extended imploringly, and a pathetic little voice, tremu-
lously speaking:

" iliigh, don't go!*'

Ho stopped, turning ghastlv white.

"Mollie! For Cod's sake— "

" Don't — don't go, Mr. Ingolow! Don't go, for 1 forgive
you — I love you!"

Hugh Ingelow gavo one amazdl cry — it waa more like a
dhout — and in the next ecstatic moment Miss Dane waa iu his
jirms, held there as if he never would lot her go.

" Please don't!" Mollio sai.l, pettishly. " What do you
duppase a i)erson'3 ribs are m;tde of, to stand such bear's hugs
eis that? l>osides, 1 didn't tell you to. 1 oidy asled you not
to mind the divorce — to-day!"

" Mollio, Mollio! for Heaven's sake, don't fcrille with me! 1
am nearly bosido myself — what with remorse, despair, and
now hope. Tell me — can you ever forgive me? Jiut 1 am
mad to ask it, to hope for it. 1 know what you said to Doc-
tor Oleander."

" Do you?" said Mollio; " but then you're not Doctor
Oleander."

" Mollio!"

" But still," said Mollie, solemnly, and disengaging her-
aelf, " yihfiii 1 have time to think about it, I am sure 1 shall
hate vou like poison. I do now, but 1 hate divorces more.
Oh, Mr. Ingelow! how could you behave so disgracefully?"

And then all at once and without the slightest premonitory
warning, tho young lady broke out crying hysterically, and t
do it tho better laid her face on Mr. Ingolow's shoulder. And
that bold buccaneer of modern society gathered the little girl
close to his heart, like tho presumptuous ouout.drel he was,
and let her cry her till; and tho face he bent over her waa
glorified and ecstatic.

" Stop crying, Mollie," he said at last, putting back the
yellow curls, and peeping at the flushed, wet, pretty face.
" Stop crying, my dear little wife, and look up and say,
' Hugh, 1 forgive you. ' "

"Never!" said Mollie. " i'ou cruel, tyrannical wretch, 1
hate you!"

THE UNSKEN imiDEr. ROOM.

213

forgive

Doctor

Ami sny'iv' it, Mollio put lior ami'; ruiivl hi ; neck, and
iini^fli '1 ,111.1 vvh'd wildly in tho wuno bnaili.

" TIk! iiystiMJt's will lio you {^ooj, my (K'i»r," hiiI 1 Mr. Inye-
h)w\ " (iiily don't j\ui'p tlicin ;!j) loo l(lIl;,^ iirid nildi-n your
pro'.i'- i • l.iii ■ (jyoH, und Kwcll y(jur iUnr litMu n. ■•-•. MoUic, ia
u pos.siblo yoi; Invo niu a little, iiftcr all?"

Mollio liftwl lior face again, and looked at nun with solemn,
shininpf «'V('8.

"Oil, iliighl am 1 really and truly — youi* very wife?"

" My very own — my diifling Mollie — ii'.y prccioua littlo
bride, as fast aa Church and .State and Mr. liu-.hli'igh can
make you. "

" Oh, Iluyh, it was a shame!"

" I know it, MoUio — a dreadful shamel But you'll bo u
Christian, won't you, and tiy to forgive nr •;"

" I'll try, but I'm afraid it ia impoosiblc And all (he lime
I thought it was Doctor Oleander. Oh, II ugh, you've no idea
how nuHorable I was."

There was a tnysterious twinkle in Ilugh's eyes.

" Almost aa miserable as at itrcsent, Mollie?"

" \v.ti; moro so, if suiih ii thing bif possibk'. It's shocking
to carry olT a girl like (hal, iinil niavry her ag;»inyt her will.
Nobody in this world, but an augel like my.iclf, would ever
foririvc you."

'* Which is cfjuivalent to saying you do forgive xtv\ Tliou-
tiiiid thunkii, Mrs. Ingilav. Tell me, would you ever havo
forgiven (Juy Oleander?"

'* You know I wouldn't," Mollie answered, blushing bouu-
tifully at her now name; " but, then, you're diirerent."

"How, Mollie?"

" Well— well, you see I hate Doctor Oleander, and 1 don't
hate you."

And thc« Mollie put her two arms round his neck, and held
lip her Ic » Jy, blushing face.

" Dect, dear Hugh! I love you with all my heart! And

tho ha'yjiest day of Mollie's life is tho day she finds you are

Mollie ¥ husband!"

***** * *

fhcy ucre back in the carriage, driving through tho golden
ta'iii of tho sunny afternoon slowly back to tho city. 8ido by
side, as happy lovers sit, they sat and talked, with — oh, such
infinitely blissful faces!

'* And now," said Mollie, " what are wo going to do about

214

THE UNSEEN BRIDEGROOif.

it? It will never answer to reveal this horrid little romance
of ours to all the world."

" Nor shall I. The world has no right to our secrets, and
the Reverend Itaymond Rashlcigh will go to his grave with
his little mystery unsolved. But we will bu married again,
openly and before the world, and you, Mrs. Ingelow, will l)o
under double obligation, because you will have promised to
love, honor and obey twice."

" And we'll go and live out at Harlem, in the dear, roman-
tic old house?" Mollie said, with sparkling eyes.

" Yes, if you wish it. 1 will have it repaired and refur-
nished immediately, and, while the workmen are about it, we
will be enjoying our wedding-tour. For we must be married
at once, Mollie," with a comical look.

Mollie blushed and fidgeted, and laughed a little nervous
laugh.

" This day fortnight will give you ample time for all the
wedding garniture," said the young man. " You hear, Mol-
lie — a fortnight."

Mollie sighed resignedly.

" Of course, you will play the tyrant, as usual, and carry
me off willy-nilly, if I don't consent. You must have every-
thing your own way, I suppose. And now — I'm dying to
know — tell me, who is Sarah Grant?"

" An eminently respectable young woman, and the wife of
my foster-brother. She and her husband would do anything
under the sun for me. The husband was the coachman who
drove you when you were abducted — who witnessed the mar-
riage, and who is driving us now. Sarah's a trumpi Didr/fc
she outwit Oleander nicely?"

" How? Oh, Hugh," clasping her hands, " I see it all —
the resemblance just puzzled me so. Sarah tJrant was Susan
fcjharpo. "

" Of course, she was, and a capital nurse she made. Sarah's
worth her weight in gold, and you will tell her so the next
time you see her. And now, here we are at Mrs. Watson's,
and so good-bye for an hour or two, my little wife."

And Mollie went in, her face radiant, and all the world
changed since she had left.

With the " witching hour of candle-light " came Mr. Inge-
low again, to spend the evening with his lady-love. He looked
a little serious, as Mollie saw.

" What is it, Hugh?" she asked, in alarm.

" Nothing much. 1 was thinking of Walraven. 1 saw him
this afternoon. "

THE UNSEEN BRIDEGROOM.

215

" Well?" breatlilessly.
-"He is olT a^'ain. Back to Europe, in the steamer to-mor
row, never to nftiirn, he says. I never saw a man more cast
down. So old Madumo Walraven will be monarch of all she
surveys once more, and the Fifth Avenue mansion will bo the
abode of darkness and desolation agai^i. Miss Blanche is set-
tled at Yonkers for good. "

" Did you tell him—"

" About our forthcoming nuptials? Oh, yesi He looked

i'ather surprised, and asked about the Mysterious Unknown

in the mask. But I pooh-poohed that matter — told him i

didn't think the mysterious husband v/ould ever trouble us,

and 1 don't think he will. By the bye, 8ir Roger Trajenna

goes to-morrow, too, so my little girl is deserted by all, and

must cling the closer to me."

^f f * * * ii *

While Carl Walraven and Sir Roger Trajenna sailed over
the wide sea — while Blanche Walraven ground her teeth in im-
potent rage up at Yonkers — while Dr. (iuy Orleander pur-
sued his business in New York, and scowled darkly at the fail-
ure of his plans — the daily papers burst out, one morning,
with the jubilant news that Hugh Ernest Ingelow, Esq., ami
Miss Mollie Dane were one llesh. The lleverend Kaymoud
liashleigh performed the ceremony, and the wedding was a
very <|uiet atTair, and the happy ])air started otl' at once to
spend the honey-moon in a tri]) to the C'anauus.

So we leave Cricket — all her girlish troubles, and flirtations,
•nd wildness over, to settle down into the dearest, brightest,
loveliest little wife in wide America. Happy as the days are
long, and bright as the sun that shines, has Cricket been since
Hugh Ingelow has been her husband.

THE END.

THE DUG DE L'OMELETTE.

And Ftepped at once into a coolor clime. — Coirper.

Keats fell by a critic-u»m. "\Mio -vvas it died of " Tlir AndrO'
mnrJid?"* Ignoble souls! De L'thnelette perished of an
ortolan. L'hi-sioire en e^t hrivc. Assist me, Hpirit of Ajjicins!

A {golden cage bore the little winged wanderer, enamored,
melting, indolent, to the Chan. -.-fie lyAnfiii, from its home in
far Peru. From its queenly possessor La liellissima, to the
Due De L"Oraek-tte, six peers of the empire conveyed the
happy bird.

Tliat night the Due was to sup alone. In t]jo privaey of
his bureau lie reclined Linguidly on that oi toman for which
he saerificed Lis loyalty in outbidding his king — a notorious
ottoman of CafK-t.

Ho buries his face in the pillow. The clock strikes! Un-
able to restrain his feelings, his Grace swallows an olive. At
this moment the door gently opens to tlie sound of soft mu-
sic, and lo ! the most delicate of binls is before the most en-
amored of men ! But what inexpressible dismay now over-

shadows the countenance of the Due

Jforrcur

■■hi<;ii!

— Jiapthfr .'—roi.<'^'t .' oh, hon iJieu! crt oif^cn)! modcxtc. (pie
tu OS de^ltahilU- d*' ses plnmt% et que ffi as scrri .v/ui.s 2><'p«"'>'' "
It is superfluous to say more : — the Due expired in a paroxysn*
of disgust

" Ha ! ha ! ha ! " haid his Grace on the third day after his
decease.

"He! he! be!" rr plied the Devil faintly, drawing him-
self up with an air of i> tuf'^iir.

" Why, surely you are not serious," retorted Do L'Onu^lctte.

* Montflounr. The author of the Punian.w lu'fonnr iimknshim speak
iu Iladfis : ''L'hommf dni^t f/»i rowlrdil saroir rr i/oiif Jfi nuts iiiort,
tpifl uc dnnnmk fMutTlfiif tl>^ jifire ou tie ]>o(/.ayreau d'autrc chose tmdi
gt/i'i cnleude 'jii' cc/ut dt ' L'Androinac/ui.' "

146

THE DUG BE D OMELETTE.

" I have sinned — <'est vrai — but, my {^ood sir, consider ! — you
liiive no actual intention of putting such — such — barbarous
threats into extHnition."

"No what?" said his majesty — "conio, sir, strip! "

"Strip, indeed! — very pretty i' I'ldHi ! — no, sir, I shall vnf.
strip. Who arc you, pray, that I, Due J)c L'Umelctto, Prince
de Foie-Gras, just cojne of age, author of the ' Ma/.urkiad,' and
Member of the Academj', should divest niysclf at your bidding
of the sweetest pantaloons ever made by Bourdon, the dain-
tiest rohc-di'.-chaixbrc ever put together by Koniburt— to say
nothing of the tal<ing my hair out of |)!iper — not to mention
the trouble I should have in drawing olf my gloves ? "

"Who aml?~ali, true! I am 13aal-Zel)ul>, Prince of tlio
Fly. I took thee, just now, from a rosewood coflin iiil.ud
with ivory. Thou wast curiously scented, and labelled as ])er
invoice. Belial sent thee, — my Inspector of Cemeteries. The
pantaloons, •which tliou s.iyest wcrr, made by Bourdon, are an
excellent pair of linen drawers, and thy rdbf-de-cli'imbre is a
shroud of no scanty dimensions."

"Sir !" replied the Due, "I am not to be ii\sulted with hn-
punity ! Sir! I sliall take the earliest opportunity in avr'Ug.
ing this insult! Sir! you shall hear from me ! In the mean-
time nu revuir!" and the Due was bowing himself out of
the Satanic pi-esence, when he was interrupfcil and brought
back by a gentleman in waiting. Hereupon his ( h'ace rublKnl
his eyes, yawned, shrugged his shoulders, i-efUH-ted. Having
become satisfied of his identity, he took a l)ii'd's-oye view <jf
his whereabouts.

The apartment was superb. Even De L'Omcletto pro-
nounced it bicii commc il fnut. It was not its ^ongth nor its
breadth, but its height — ah, that was appalling ! There was
no ceiling — certainly none — but a dense whirling mass of
fiery-colored clouds. His Grace's brain reeled as he glanced
ujiward. From above, hung a chain of an unknown blood-
red metal — its upper end lost, like the city of Boston, parmi
li^a nnes. From its nether extremity swung a larjj'e cresset.
The Due knew it to be a ruby ; init from it there poured a
light so intense, so still, so tcii-ible, Persia never worshipped
such — Gheber never imagined such — iMussnlman never
dreamed of such when, drugged with o])ium, he has tottered
to a bed of poppies, his bafk to the flowers, and his itwo to
the God Apollo. The Due muttered a slight oath, decidedly
approbatory.

THE DUfJ BE n OMELETTE.

147

/ a

The cornnra of tlio room were rounded into niches. Three
of these wore tilled with statues of gigantic proportions. Their
beauty was Grecian, their deformity Egyptian, their lout en-
semble French. In the fourth niche the statue was veiled ; it
was iiof. colossal. ]5ut tlien there was a taptir ankle, as an-
dalled foot. De L'Oraelette pi'cssed his hand upon his heart,
closed his eyes, raised tlieui, an<l caught his Hat-mic Slajesty
— in a hlush.

But the paintings ! — Kupris ! Astarte ! Astoreth ! — a thou.,
sand and the same ! And llafaelle has belield them ! Yes,

Kafaelle has been here ; for did he not paint the ? and

was he not conso^iuently damned? The paintings ! the jiaint-
ings ! O luxury! Glove! who, gazing on those forbidden
beauties, shall have eyes for the dainty devices of the golden
frames that bespriukled, like stars, the liyacuith and the
porphj'ry walls ?

But the Due's heart is fainting witlun him. He is not, how-
ever, as you suppose, di/.zy with magnificence, nor drunk with
the ecstatic lu'calh of those inmunerable censers. C'esft vrai
(]ue de lollies rr.s c/joxcx il apenn! henucoiip — mnii-i ! The Due Do
L'Gmeletto is terror-stricken ; for, tlu-ough the lurid vista
which a single uncurtained window is allbrdiiig, lo ! gleams
the most ghastly of all tires !

Le paiii-ri' D •! He could not help imagining that the
glorious, tlie voluptuous, the never-dying melodies whidi i)er-
vaded that hall, as they passed tittered and transnuited through
the alchemy of the enchanted wijidow-panes, were tlie waitings
and the bowlings of the hopcdcssand the danmed ! And tliere,
too! — there! — upon that ottoman! — who could //rbe? — he,
\\w pelihnnUre — no, the Deity — who sat as if carved in marble,
('/ (jiii, soiiril, with his piuo countenance, n amiremeiit ?

MnU il fant c/r/m --tliat is to say, a Frenchman never faints
outright. Besides, his Grace hated a scene — De L"0]nelett©
is liimself again. There were some foils upon a table — some

points also. The Due had studied under li ; il avail tiie

.scs .S7'.r honimc.'^. Now, then, il peul x'l'rliapper. He nu>asui'es
two points, and, with a grace inimitable, olrers his IMajesty
the choice. Horreur ! his IMajesty does not fence!

Mais il jDur ! — how haj^py a thought! — but his Grace had
always an excellent memory. He haddippcul in the " Diahle"
of the Abbe Gualtier. Therein it is said " ptc Ic Diahle ii'ose
pas refuser vv jeu ifiearh'."

But the chances — the chances ! True — desperate ; but

148

THE Dim T)E VOMELETTK

scarcely more desperate than tlie Due. Besides, was he not
in the Hoorot ? liad he not Kkinniied over Pure Le Brun ?
was he not a member of the Ckib Vingt-un? "Sije2>er(h,"
said he, "ja Kci-ni dcv.i- foix jiordii — I sliall be doubly damned
— viola Uiul ! (HcH! ])is Grace shru<^ged his shoulders.) Sije
0(igne,ji' rt'viciuirai d ineti urtuluns — que Ics carles soient j)ri-
IMrles ! "

His Grace was all care, all attention — his INIajesty all con-
fidence. A spectator woiild have thought of Francis and
Charles. His (Ji-aco thouglit of his game. His Majesty did
not thnik ; he shul'llod. Tlie Due cut.

The cai'ds are dealt. T])e trump is turned — it is — it is— •
the king ! No it was the queen. His Jfajesty cursed her
masculine habiliments. Do L'Omel<;tte placed his hand upon
his heart.

They jilay. The Due counts. The hand is out. His Ma-
jesty counts heavily, smiles, and is taking wine. The Dug
slips a card.

" C'cst a vous a /aire," said his Majesty, cutting. His Grace
bowed, dealt, and arose from the table en iiresentont le Eoi.

His ilajesty looked chagrined.

Had Alexander not been Alexander, he would have been
Diogenes ; and the Due assured his antagonist in taking leave,
"que till )i'ei''l pus tic Dc L'OmdeUe il n' aur ail point d" objection
VCtre le Liable:'

THE OBLONG BOX.

Sojin years ap^o, I engaged passage fi'om Charlesinn, S. C,
to the cit}' of New York, in Uio. lino ])acket^Hliip Indcpoud-
ence, Ca])tain Hardy. Wo Avcro to sail on the lil'itienlU of
the month (June), -weather i)ernutl,ing ; and, on tlio foux*-
tecntb, I went on board to arrange some mattor:i in my state-
room,

I found that wo were to have a great many jjasscngers, in-
clmting a more than usual niunlK r of ladien. On tlie list
were several of my ac(juaintam'es ; and ainong other names,
I was rejoiced to see that of IMr. Cornelius Wyatt, a youn;,'
artist, for wliom T enlertaineil rc(Hiir;s of warm friendship,

-III' liad bi'cii witli nui a fcllow-stLulcnt at C IJinvfrsity,

wiicre we wcra very much together. Ho had tlie ordinary
teinj)erament of genius, iind was a compound of misanthropy,
seiisilnlity, and eutluisiasm. To tlieso (ju;dilies lie united tlio
warmest and truest heart whieh ever be;it in a human bosom.

I observed that his nanus was carded uj)on tiirt-G state-
rooms ; aud, upon agaiu rcfcaaang to the list of passengers,
I found tliat lio had engage(l passag'o for himself, wiU'., and
two sisters — Ids own. Tlio staterooms \\\'V0 sullieitmtiy
roomy, and each liad two berths, one above the other. These
berths, to be sure, were so exceedingly narrow as to be in-
Kullicient for more tlian one person; s! ill, I could not com-
prehend why there were thn'c stattu'ooms for th(>se foi;r per-
sons. I was, just at this epocli, in one of tliose moody frames
of mind wiiich make a man abnormally incpiisitive about tri-
lies : and I confess, with shame, that I l)usied myself in a
variety of ill-bn'il and pivposterous conjecture nbout this
matter of the Hupernunu.'rary stateroou). It wa . no business
of mine, to be siu-e ; but with noni* tlie less pertinacity did I
occupy myself iu altcmj)ts to resolve tlie enigma. At last I
reached a couclurfioii which wrought in mc };i-eat wonder wliy

150

TUE OBLONa J10X.

I had not arrived at it boforr. " It is a fjorvant, of course,"
I said ; " wliat a fool I am, not sooner to liavc tlioiiglit of so
obvious a solution ! " And (hen I a^^'ain rejiaired in the list, —
but here I saw distinctly tliat no serviuitwaH to (tome with tho
])arty ; although, in fact, it had been the original design to
bring one — for the ■words " and servant " had been liist Avrit-
teu and then ovorscored. " Oh, extra bagj^'ago to bo sure,"' I
noAv said to ni;. self — "someihing he Avishes not to be put in
the hold — something to 1)0 keptumh'r his own eye — ah, I have
it — a painting or so — and this is what he has been Ijargaining
about with I'icolino, the Italian Jew." This idea satislied me,
and I dismissed my curiosity for the nonce.

"Wyatt's two sisters I knew very well, and most amiable and
clever girls they were. His wife he had newly married, and
I had never yet seen her. He had often talked about her in
my presence, however, and in his iisual style of enthusiasm.
He described her as of surpassing l)eauty, wit, and accom-
plishnu'nt. I was, therefore, quite anxious to make her ac-
quaintance.

On the day in Avhich I visited the ship (the fourteenth),
"Wyatt and a party were also to visit it — so tho caijtain in-
formed me — and 1 waited on board an hour longer than I
had designed, in hope of being presented to the brich? ; but
then an apology came. " ]\[r. W. Avas a little indisjiosed, and
would decline coming on board xuitil to-morrow, at the hour
of sailing."

The morrow having arrived, I was going from my hotel to
i\io. wharf, when Captain Hai'dy met me and said that "owing
circumstances" (a stujnd but convenient phrase), "ho rather
thought the Independence would not sail for a day or two,
and that wijcn all was i-ead}', he Axoidd send up and l(>t me
know." Tliis I thought strange, for there was a still' southerly
breeze ; but as " the circumstances " were not forthcoming,
although I pumped for them with nuich perseverance, I had
nothing to do but to return home and digest my impatience
at leisure.

I did not receive tho expected message from the captain for
nearly a week. It came at length, however, and I immediately
went on board. The ship was crowded with passengers, and
everything Avas in the bustle attendant upon making sail.
AVyatt's party arrived in al)out ten minutes after myself.
There Avcre the two sisters, the bride, and the artist— tho latter
in one of liia customary llts of moody misanthropy. 1 was

THE OBLONG BOX.

151

too well used to thoso, however, to pay thorn any special at-
tention. He did not even introdnco me to his wife, tlii.s
courtesy de ,olvin,f)f, per force, upon his sibtcr Marian, a very
sweet and intelligent girl, who, iu a few hurried words, made
us acquainted.

Mrs. Wyatt had been closely veiled ; and when she raised
her veil, in acknowledging my bow, I confess that I was very
profoundly astonished. I should have been mucli more so,
however, had not knig experience advised me not to trust, with
too implicit a reliance, the enthusiastic descriptions of my
friend, tlie artist, when indulging in comments upon the loveli-
ness of woman. When l)eauty was the theme, I well kncsw with
wliat facility he soared into tlie regions of llie ])urely ideal.

The truth is. I could not help regarding ]\Iis. "NVyatt as a
decidedly plain-looking woman. If not positively ugly, she
was not, I think, very far from it. She was dressed, however,
in exquisite taste — and then I had no doubt that she had cap-
tivated my friends heart by the more enduring graces of the
intellect and soul. She said very few words, and passed at
once into her stateroom with I\Ir. W.

My old incjuisitiveness now retui'ned. There was no servant
— that was a settled i)()int. I looked, therefore, for the extra
baggage. After .some delay, a cart arrived at the Avliarf, with
an oblong pine box, which Avas everything that seemed to be
expected. Immediately ujioti ita arrival we made sail, and in
a short time were safely over the 1)ar and standing out to sea.

The box in question was, as I say, ol)long. It was about six
feet in length l)y two and a half in breadth ; I observed it at-
tentively, and like to be precise. Now this shape wiiHpi'fuliar ;
and no sooner had I seen it, than I took credit to myself lor
tlie acciu'acy of my guessing. I had reached the conclusion,
it will bo remembered, that the extra baggage of my friend,
the artist, would prove to be pictures, or at least a picture ; for
I knew he had been for several weeks in conference with Nico-
lino : and now here was a box which, from its shape, could
possibly contain nothing in the world but a copy of Leonardo's
" Last Supper ; " and a copy of tliis very " Last Supjier," done
by Rubini the younger at Florence, I had known, for some
time, to be in the possession of Nicolino. Tliis point, tluu'o-
fore, I considered as suiticiently settled. 1 cluickled exces-
sively when I thought of my acumen. It was the lirst time I
had ever known AVyatt to keej) from nu; any of his artisticiii
secrets ; but here he evidently intended to statd a march upon

{,%

]r)2 THE OBLONG BOX.

Xi\Q, and Kimip;,",lo a lino pioluro to Now York, imdor my \o\-^
noso ; expo('tin<;- mo to know notliin^ of the matter. I rosolvotl
to quiz liini m'll. now and liorcaftor.

Ono thin,u', liowovcr, annoyod nio not a littlo. Tho box did
not go into tho extra stater()f)rn. It was <lopoHitod in Wyatt's
own; and thoro, too, it remained, oecnpying nearly tlio whole
of tho floor -no doubt to the exceeding dis(H)nifortof tho artist
and his wife ;— this the more especially as the tar or paint with
whi(!h it was lettered in !-ii)rawling capitals, emitted a stron_
disagreeable, and, to my fancy, a peculiarly disgusting odor
On the lid were painted the words — "J/r.--. Adelaide Curtis,
Atlxniif, New Yod: (Hiarrje of Cornelius ]Vijalt,E<q. This side
lip. To he liandlt'd uuth rare."

Now, I was aware that ]Mrs. Adelaide Curtis, of Albany, was
the artist's wife's naothcr ; but thou I looked upon tho whole
address as a niystitieation, intended especially for myself. I
maile up my mind, of course, that the box and contents would
never get fartiier north than the studio of my misanthropic
friend, in Chambers Street. Now York.

For tho first three or four days we had fine weather, although
the wind was dead ahead ; having eliopped i-ound to the north-
ward, innnodifitely upon our losing sight of the coast. Tho
passc'ngoi's were, consctiuently, iu liij;li S2)irits, and dispo.sed
to be siicial. I must exoopt, howev(>r, Vv'yatt and his sisters,
who behaved stiHly, and, 1 eould not lulp thinking, luicour-
teously to the rest of the party. Wijafl\'< conduct I did not so
much regard. He was gloomy, even beyond his usual habit —
in fact lie w'as vKiroxc — but in hnii I was |)rcpared for eccen-
tricity. For the sister^;, however, I could make no excuse.
Tliey secluded themselves in their staterooms duriug the
greater part of the passage, and absolutely refused, although I
repeatedly mged them, to hold commuuicatiou with any per-
son on board.

Mrs. Wyatt herself was far more agreeable. IITaat is to say,
she was chad;/ ; and to be chatty is no slight recommendation
at sea. She became excessively intimate with most of the
ladies ; and, to my profound astonishment, evinced no equivo-
cal disposition to coquet with the men. She amused us all
vciy much. 1 say "amused" — and soarcely know how to ex-
plain myself. The truth is, I soon found that IVIrs. W. was
far oftener laughed at than with. The gentlemen said little
about her ; but the ladies, in a little while, pronoimced hot
a " good-hearted thing, rather indififereut-looldnjj, totally un»

}■

Tin: ()IIIJ>.\<! IIOX.

153

educated, and decidedly vulgar." The gToat ^voudor was, how
"Wyatt liad been fiitiappcd into jsuch a luatcli. Wcaltli was
the general solution — l)ut this I knew to ho no Holutiou at all ;
for AVyatt had told nio lliat sho neither hrougdit hitu a tlollai*
nor had any oxitectations from any source whatwer. '' Ho had
married," ho said, " for love, and for lovo only; and his hrido
wan far nioi'o tlian worthy fif liis love," "Wlirii I thought of
these expres.sions, o)i the part of my friend, 1 confess that I
felt indescribably pu/.zled. Could it be jjossiljle that he vras
t.tking leave of his senses ? What elso could I think ? //(.•, eo
r( lined, so intelleetuul, so fastidious, with ho exciuisito a per-
(•( ption of the faulty, and so keen an ajipreeiation of the beai;-
tiful ! To be sure, the lady seenietl os2)eeially fond of him —
])ar(ieularly so in his al)senec — wIk'U she made herself ridicu-
lous by frequent ([notations of what had l)een said by her
'• beloved husband. Mi-. Wyatt." Tli(i word " husband "seemed
forever — to use one cf her own d(!li('at(! exju'cssious — forever
" ontho tip of her tongue. ' In the meantime, it was observed
by all on board, that ho avoided her in the most pointed man-
ner, and, for the most part, shut himself uj) alone; in his state-
room, where, in fact, he mi.",ht have been said to live altogether,
leaving his wife at full li1)erty to a!uuso hers:>lf as sho thought
best, in tho public society of tlio main cabin.

My conclusion, from what I saw and heard, v/as, that tho
artist, by some unaccoimtablo freak of fate, or porha2)S in
some fit of enthusiastic and fam^iful passion, had been induced
to imito himself with a person altogether beneath him, and
that the natural result, entire and speedy disgust, had ensued.
I pitied him from the 1)oitoin of my heart — but could not, for
that reason, quite forgive hisincomnuinicativeness in tlieiaii'-
teroftho "Last Supper." For this I resolved to have my

revenge.

One day he camo upon deck, and, taking his ami as had
been my wont, I sauntered with him backward and forward.
His gloom, however (which 1 considend ([uito naturtl under
the circumstances), seemed entirely luiabated. He said little,
and that moodily, and with evident ell'ort. I ventured a jest
or two, and he made a sickening attempt at a smile. I'oor
fellow! as I thought of his u-ifc, I wondered that ho could
have heart to put on even the semblance of mirth. At hist I
ventured a home-thrust. I determined to commence a series
of covert in.sinuatioiis, or inuendoes, about the oblong box — •
just to let him perceive, gradually, that I waa not altogethei

ir.i

TIIH on LONG JIOX.

llu) butt, or Tietini, of liiH littlo bit of jjlonsaut mystifioution
i.Iy first obHorvaiion wjis by way of opc'iiiii<:j a iiiuskcd bat
icvy. I Siiid HoiiK.'ilii?!'^' iiboiit llic " ])i'('iili,ir sliapo of llml
box;" and, us I wpokc tlio ^vol•d;^, I i-^iiiilrd luiowiii^ly, uiiikod,
aud touched him yc'iilly Avith my forc-liii^ifcx' in tlio ribs.

Tlie mauner in Avhich Wyntt rccfivcd t'u,s haimloss plcitH-
antry convinced me, at once, that he \\ ;-i mad. At iirsl he
stared at me an if ho found it impossible to <'om])reljeud Ihe
uitlicism of my remark ; but as its point seemed sh)\vly lo
make its Avay into liis l)nun, his eyes, in the same proportion,
seemed protrudiu;;' from their sockets. Then lie grew very
red — then hideously pale — tlien, as if hi;^hly amused ■\vilh
what I had insinuated, ho began a loud and boisterous laugh,
vshich, to my astonishment, ho kept up, with gradually in-
creasing vigor, for ten minutes or moi'e. Tn conclusion, h(!
fell Hat and heavily upon tlie deck. A\'hen I ran to uplift him,
to all appearance ho wnn dcml.

I called assistance, and, with miu^h difiicuUy, we brought
him to himself. Upon reviving he spoke in<;ohereutly 1'(H'
Bome time. At length wo bled him and put him to be(k
The next morning lu^ was ((uite recovered, so far as regard(!d
his mere bodily health. Of his mind I say notliing, of course.
I avoided him during the rest of the passage, by advice of the
ciiptaiu, who seined to coincide with me altogetlier in my
vioMS of his insimity, but cautioned me to say nothing on this
lie-'.d to any person on board.

Several circuinslances occurred immediately after this fit of
^'v'yatt's which contributed to heighten tla^ curiosity with which
I was already jjossessed. Among other things, this : I had
been nervous — drank too inuch strong green tea, and slept ill
at night — in fact, for two lughts I could not be pro2)erly said
to sleep at all Now, my stateroom opened into the main
cabin, or dining-room, as did those of all the single men on
board. "NVyatt's three rooms were in tli(! after-cabin, which
was sepai'ated from the main one by a slight sliding dooi',
never locked even at night. As we were almost constantly on
a wind, and the breeze was not a little stilt", the shii) heeled to
leeward very considerably ; and whenever her starboard side
was to leeward, the sliding door between the cabins slid ojien,
and HO remained, nobody taking the trouble to get u}) and shut
it. J3ut my berth was iu such a position, that when my (jwn
stateroom door was open, as well as the sliding door iu ques-
tion (aud iiiy own door was alwaijs opeu on account of the

Tin: ojiLONa box.

153

luiiL), I could HOC into the aftcr-c.ibin (juito diHlinotly, aiul
just lit tliiit portion of it, too, ^vllOl•n wore sitiiatod tlio stato-
rooms of Mr. Wyatt. Woll, (liniii<,' <\vo ni^'lifw (//»<; (lonsccii-
tiv(!) whilo I lay awake, 1 clculy saw jNlrs. W'., aljout eleven
o'{!lo(!k each ni|^ht, Btcal cautiously from tlicj wtateroom of
]\Ir. W., aucl cnlor the extra room, wlu'i-e slio roinaiiied until
(l;iyl)reak, when hIio was call(;d hy her husband and went luck.
That they were virtually separated was clear. They had sei>-
arate apartments — no doubt in eonfenij)lati(in of a more per-
iiianont divorce ; and hei-e, after all, 1 thoughi, was the mys-
tery of the extra Htat(;rooni.

Tiiero was another circuniHtance, too, wliicii interested mo
iiiiich. During the two wakeful ni<,'lits in question, and im-
mediately after the disappearance of A£rs. Wyatt into the extra
stateroom, I was attracted by certain ain^nilnr, eautious, sub-
dued noises in that of her Imsband. After list(!nin,L( to them
for some time, with thou,<.,ditful attention, I at leni^dli succeeded
perfectly in translatin<^ tlieir import. They were sounds oc-
casioned by the artist in pryinpf o])eu the oblong' box, by
moans of a chisel aiul mallet — tlie latter bcini;; nnillled, or
deadened, by some soft, woollen or cotton substance in which
its head was envelo])ed.

In this manner 1 fancied I coidd distini^uish the jn-eciso
monu'iit when he fairly disen<^a;^ed the lid — also, that I ctould
determine when ho removed it alto;^'cther, and when ho dc'-
posited it upon the lower berth in his room ; this latter point
I knew, for example, by certain sli;.';lit taps which the lid made
in striking a^^ainst the wooden ed;4es of the berth, as he en-
deavored to lay it down vcnj gently — there being no room for
it on the floor. After this there Avas a dead stillness, and I
heard nothing more, upon either occasion, until nearly day-
break ; unless, perhajis, I may mention a low sobbing, or
murmuring sound, so very nuieh suppressed as ti> be nearly
inaudible — if, indeed, the whole of tliis hitter noise wen! not
rather produced by my own imagination. I say it seenuHl
to rcsiunhh; sobbing or sighing — but, of course, it could not
have been either. I rather think it was a ringing in n,)- own
ears. Mr. AVyatt, no doubt, according to custom, was merely
giving the reiu to one of his hobbies — indulging in one of his
tits of artistic enthusiasm. He had opened liis oblong box,
in order to feast his eyes on the pictorial treasure within.
There was nothing in this, however, to make him w/^ I repeat
therefore, that it uiuat have boeu aimply a freak of my owu

15C

THE OBLONG IIOX.

fancy, distempered l)j good Captain Ifardy's green tea. Just
h('['()r<^ dawn, on eacli of flio two iii-iits of whicli I speak, I
distinctly lioiird Mr. AVyatt replace' tlic lid upon the oblong
box, and forco the nails into Ibeir old places, by means of tlio
nmilled niallot. Having done this, ha issued from his state-
room, fully dressed, and proceeded to call 3Irs. AV. from
hers.

"\Vo had been at sea seven days, and wore now olTCapo Iiaf-
t>'r;;s, when thero came a ti-tniendously heavy blow from the
Sijutlnvest. We were, in ajiieasure, prepared f(n" it, howevei",
as the weather had been holding out threats for some time.
Everything was made snug, alow and aloft ; and as the wind
.sicadlly fivshened, we lay to, at lengih, r.iidor spanker and
foretopsail, both double-n;ef('d.

la this trim, wo rude sifely enom;h for foi'ty-right liours —
the ship proving hoi-si If an excellent sea boat, in many re-
b})ecis, and shipping no water of any conse(]n(!nco. At tho
oiid of this })eri()d, however, tlio gale had fresliene>l into a
Irarricane, and our afler-sail split into ribbons, bunging ua
so m'.ich in tho li(>n;.h of llio water that we shipped several
pLMdigiou.i S(;as, one hiinieiliately after iho other. By this ac-
ci.l;'nt wo lost ihr.'O incii ovejl)oard witli 1h(3 caluxwc, imd
nearly the wIdIo of the 1 irboard bulwarks. Scarc'ly had w»
rccovt red our s.Mses, before the foreto])sail wcjit into shre(^ls.
when vre got up a storm sta.y-siil, iind willi lliis did pretts
"Wfll for some hours, iho ship headhig tho sea nnich more
steadily than before.

Tlio g:d(! still hold on, however, and v.e saw no signs of its
cbating. The rigging was foun>l to bo ill-littcd, and greatly
strained ; and on (Ih; third d'ly of tlie blow, about iiv<> in tho
afternoon, our mizzeu-mast, in a heavy lurch to windward,
went by tho board. For an hour or more, we tried in vain to
get rid of it, on account of the prodigious rolling of the sliip ,
and, before we had succee(lcd, the carpenter came aft aiid an-
nounced four feet water in the hohl. To add to our dilemma,
we found the pumi)S chokfd and nearly uselrss.

All was now confusio!! and despair — but an eftbrt Avas nrido
to ligliteu tho ship by throwing overboard as nnich of her
cargo as could bo )'eached, and by cutting away the two masta
that remaineil. This we at Ia.st accomplished — Ijut we were
still unable to do anything at tlie })umps ; and, hi the mean,
time, th(! leak gained ( n us veiw fast.

At sundown, the gale hud sensibly diminished in violoncq,

TUE OBLONG BOX.

157

and, as the sea wont down witli it, wo sliU f ntcrtniued faint
liopo:-! of saving oursolvos in tlio l)'.);tt:-. At fight i'.:.r, flie
clouds l)roke away to win<lwc'U'd, and wo had tlic advantage of
a fidl moon — a pirce of good fortune which served wonder-
fully to cheer our drooping spirits.

After incredible labor we succeeded, at length, in golting
the long-boat over the side without material accident, and into
this we crowded the whole of the crew and most of the pas-
sengers. This ])ar{y made off immediately, and, after under-
going much sut'terijig, linally arrived, Iji safety, at Od-acoke
Iidet, ou the third day after the wreck.

Fourteen passenger ■<, with the Captain, remained on boai'd,
resolving to trust their forlunes to tiie jolly-boat at the stern.
We lowered it without difficulty, rdiliough it Avas only by a
miracle that we jirevented it from swinuping as it touched tlie
water. It contained, when alloaf, l!i(! c:'.]'t'du and his wife,
^fr. AV'yatt and party, a ]\['>xicau oliicer, wife, four chil ireu,
and myself, with a negro valet.

We had no room, of cou)-sc, for anyiliing except a iow pos-
i'iively necessary instruments, some provision, and the clothes
upon our backs. No onn h.id thought of even attcmptii-.g io
snve anytliing more. Wnat must have been the astoi:i..iim( nt
of all ihen, when, having proceeded a fe-.v fathoms IVom tiie
sliij), ^fr. "Wyalt stood up in tlio Kternsheels, and coolly do-
miudod of Cai)taai Hardy that the lioat should be put back
for the purpose of t.ildng i'l iiis oblong box !

"Sit down, Jlr. Wyatt,' replied the Captain, somewliat
sternly; "you wid capsi/e u:s if you do n"t sit quite still.
Our cfuuw.de is almost in the v.ater now.'

"The l)ox!" vociferated Mr. Wyatt, still stai ding— " the
box, I say! Captain llardv, you cannot, yo-i n-ill not refuse
mo. Its weight will bo but a tiille — it is nothing —njt re noth-
ing. V>\ the mother who bore you — for the love of Heaven —
bv yoiu" hope of salvation, I inwlorc vou to put bacic for the
box ! "

The Cajitain, for n moment, seemed touched by the earnest
rppeal of the artist, but ho regained his stern composr.rc, and
merely said :

"Mr. Wyatt you are JH*^/'/. I cannot listen toy. n. Sildown,
I say, or you will sw!un[) tlui l)Oiit, iStay — iiold hiiii- -^ei/a
liim ! ho is about to .'r^pring overboard ! There — I knew it —

ne 19 over

. 1

As the Captain said this, Mr. Wyalt, in fact, sprang froiu

158

THE OnLOXG BOX.

the boat, and, as wo wore yet in the lee of tlic wreck, snoocedcfl,
by ahiiost snporhnniun exertion, in getting hold of a rope
which hung from the fore-chains. In another moment ho waa
on board, and rushing frantically down into the cabin.

In the meanlinio, we had been swept astern of the ship, and
being quite out of her lee, were at the mercy of the tremen-
dous sea which w;i.s still running. ■V\ t made a determined ef-
fort to put back, but our littlu '.■ at bke a feather in the
breath of the tempest. "We sav . ^ lUice that the doom of
the unfortunate artist was scaled.

As our distance from the wi-eck rapidly increased, the mad-
Dirui (for as such only could we regard him) was seen to emergo
from the conlpaIuoH-^\^'ly, up which, by dint of a strenglh that
appeai'cd gigantic, he dragged, bodily, the oblong box. While
we gized in the extremity of astonishment, he passed, rapidly,
sevi>ral turns of a three-inch rope, first ai'ound the box aud
then around liis body. In another iu.stant botli body and box
were in tlie sea — dis i,j)poaring suddenly, at onc(i and forever.

We lingered awliile sadly u])on our oars, with our eyes riv-
eted upon tlie spot. At lengtii wo pulled away. The silence
romiiined unbroken for an hour. Finally, I hazivrded a re-
mark.

*' Did you observe, Captain, how suddenly i'
not that an exceedingly shigular tiling ? I ■
tertained some feeble liope of his liiial deliv-j.
him lash himself to the box, and commit hiait

"They sank a.s a matter of coui-se," replied '.v.^ (Japtain,
" and that like a shot. They will soon rise again, however—'
hut ))ot till llw sail lacli.-^.''

"The salt! "I ejaculated.

" Hush ! " said the C!aptain, pointing to the wife and sislera
of the deceased. " We must talk of these things at some more
api)ropriate time."

;• ;ank? Was
''■St ihat I en-
* '. \. 'leu I saw
■ ':■:■ lUo sea."

We suffered much, and made a uarrov i -inpe ; but fortune
l^efriended c.--, as well as our males in il V» g boat. We
lande<l, in tine, more <lead thaii alive, after four days of intense
distress, upon the beach opposite Koanoke Island. We re-
mained thiu'' a Wv ok, W' i\. ..ot ill-M-e;ii( d by the wreckers, and
at length ohlaii' d a pasiii-iv ti) New York.

Al)out a moi th after jhe loss of the Independence, I hap-
pened to meet Captain Hardy in Uroadwuy. Our couvcrsa'

THE OBLONQ BOX.

159

tion turned, naturallv. upon tho disfiste)', and espocialJy upon
the Rail fute of jxx^r Wyatt I tliiiH Icarued the follo\viii<,' par-
ticulai-K.

Tlu; artist liaxi enirageJ passage for hiiiiKelf, wife, two sisters,
ami a servant. His wife was, indeed, as slus Lad been repre-
sented, a most loYtlv and most accomplished woninn. Oa
the morning of the fourteenth of June (tho day in which I
first visited the sbipl, the lady suddenly sickened and died.
The young husb:tiid was frantic with grief — but circumstances
imperatively forbade the deferring bis voyage to Xew York.
It was necessary to take to her mother the corpse of his adored
wife, and on the other hand, the universal pi-ejudice which
would prevent his doing so openly, was well known. Nine-
tenths of the pas-sengers would have abandoned the shipr; ther
than take passage wiih the dead body.

Li this dilemma, Capt:uu Hardy arranged that the corpse,
being lirst partially emfxdmed, and packed, Avith a large quan-
tity of salt, in a 1>05 of suitable dimensions, should be conveyecl
on board as merclrimlise. Nothing was to be said of the lady's
decease ; and, as it was well imderstood that Mr. Wyatt had
engaged passage for his wife, it became uecessaiy tluit some
person should per^souate her during the voyage. This the de-
ceased's lady's maid was easily prevailed on to do. The extra
state-roonj, originally enLraged for this girl diu'ing lier mis-
tress' life, was now merely retained. In this state-room the
pseudo-wife slept, of course, every night. In the daytime she
[jerformed, to the Ix-st of her ability, llie part of her mistress
— whoso per.son, it ha*! been carefully ascertained, was un-
known to any of the |>ass<-ngers on board.

My own mistakes an>se. naturally enough, through loo care-
less, too inquisitive, and too impulsive :i tenq)erameut. Uut
of late, it is a i-are tiling that I sleep soundl}- at night. There
is a countenance^ which haunts me, turn as I will. Theio is
an hysterical laugh which will forever x\xi]^ withiu my ears.

KING PEST.

A TALE CONTAINING AN ALLEGORY.

Tho gods do bear and well allow in kings
The things wliich tbey abhor in rjis.vi.l routes.

Biic/:/inrst'n Ti'<i<jea;i oj Ferrer- imd Porrtc!,

Ar-ouT hvc'lvi! o'clock, oiu' ni;j;'1it in tlio montli of October
and (luring the chivalrous reign of tho vhinl J-wdwiinl, two seii-!
men belonging to the crew of the Free and Easy, u tnid-
iiig schooner I'lying betucen Slnyw and tlie Thiiincs, and tjien
at anchor in that liver, were nuicli astonished to find tlieni-
selve.s seated in the tap-room of an alediousc in the parish of
St. Andrews, London — which ale-house ))ore for sigii the por-
traiture of a Jolly Tar.

Tlie room, although ill-contrived, snioke-blackened, lov,-
pitclK'd, and in every othtr respect agreeing witli tlit* gencaid
(•h:UMciei' of siK-Ii places at the peritxi — was, nevertheless, in
the opinion of the gn-otesqiie gmups scalto-fd lu-re and tliere
within it, snllicicntly well adiipted to ils pm) osc.

Of thcsf groups our two scanien fonucil, 1 thinlc, the most
interestiii'.'-, if iioL the most conspicuous.

1'he one wlio ;i])[ieared to be tlie elder, and whom liis com-
panioii addressed by the characteristic a])pe]lation of ".Legs,"
was at the same time nnicli the taller of tiie two. lie might
have ine:)sured six fct- !Uid a lialf, and an habitual stoop ia
th-j shoulders seenietl to have been the neces, nry cons<!(iuence
of an altitude so enormous. Sui)erlluities in lK;ight were,
liowev(r, more than acccnnittKl for l)V ileticiencics in otla^r re-
spects. He was exceedingly thin, an 1 miglit, as his associ-
ates asserted, have answejed, when drunk, for a i)ennant at
tlie mast-head, or, wlieTi sober, liavi> serv(.'il for a jil)-l)oom.
lint these jestH, and otla rs of a similar natiii-e, had evidently

KING PEST.

161

produced, at no time, any effect upon the cachinnatory mws-
cles of the tar. With hi},4i cheek-bones, a Itirge hawk-nose,
retreating chin, fallen under-jaw, and huge protruding -white
eycH, the expression of his countenance, altliough tinged with
a species of dogged indifference to mattei-s and things in gen-
eral, was not the less utterly solemn and serious beyond all
attempts at imitation or description.

The younger seaman was, in all outward appearance, the
converse of his companion. His stature could not have ex-
ceeded four feet. A pair of stumpy bow-legs supi^orted his
squat, unwieldy figuri', while his unusually short and thick
arms, with no ordinary lists at their extremities, swung olY
dangling from his sid(!s like the tins of a sea-turtle. Small
eyes, of no particular color, twinkled far back in his head.
His nose remained l)uried in the mass of llcsh which enveloi^ed
his round, full, and purple face ; and his thick iii')i)er-li2) rested
upon tlie still thicikcr one beneath with an air of complacent
self-satisfaction, much heightened by the owner's habit of
licking them at intervals. He evidently regarded his tall ship-
mate with a feeling half-AVondrons, half-quizzical ; and stared
up occasionally in his face as the red setting sun stares up at
tlie crags of Ben Nevis.

Various and eventful, however, had been the percgi-inations
of the worthy couple in and about tlie different tap-houses
of the neighborhood during the earlier hours of the night.
Funds, even the most ample, are not always everlasting ; and
it was with empty pockets our friends had ventured upon the
present hostelrie.

At the precise period, then, when this history })roperly com-
iiionces. Legs, and his fellow, Hugh Tarpaulin, sat, eacli with
both elbows resting upon the huge oaken table in the middle
of the floor, and with a hand upon either cheek. They were
eyeing, from behind a huge flagon of unpaid-for " humming-
stulf," tlie portentous words, "No Chalk," which to their in-
dignation and astonishment were scored over the doorway by
means of that very mineral whose presence they purported to
deny. Not that tlie gift of deciphering wi'itten cliaracters —
a gift among the commonalty of that day considered little less
eabalistieal than the art of inditing— could, in strict justice,
have been laid to th(* charge of either disciple of the sea ; but
there was, to say the Iriitli, a certain twist in the formatidu of
the letters —an indescribable lee-lurch about the whole — which
foreboded, in the opinion of lioth seamen, a louj, run of dirty
11

.1^2

KING PEST.

weather ; nntl determined them at once, in the allegorical
words of Logs himself, to " pump fillip, clew up all sail, and
scud before the Avind."

Having accordingly disposed of what remained of the al<^
and looped tip the points of their short doublets, they finally
made a bolt for the street. Although Tarpauhn rolled twice
into the fii*eplacc, mistaking it for the door, yet their escape
was at length happily efteetcd — and half after twelve o'clock
found oxu* heroes ripo iov mischief, and running for life down
a dark alley in tlie direction of St. Andrew's Stair, hotly pur-
sued by the landlady of the Jolly Tar.

At the ejioclx of tliis eventful tale, and periodically, for
many years before and after, all England, but more especially
the metropolis, resounded with the fearful cry of " Plague ! "
The city Avas in a great mcasiu'o depopulated — and in those
horrible regions, in the vicinity of the Thames, where amid
the dark, narrow, and filthy lanes and alleys, the Demon of
Disease was supposed to have had his nativity. Awe, Terror,
and Superstition wore alone to be found stalking abroad.

By authority of the king such districts were placed vndrr
ban, and all persons forbidden, under pain of death, to intrude
upon their disn)al solitude. Yet neither the mandate of the
monarch, nor the huge barriers erected at the entrance of
the streets, nor the prospect of that loathsome death which,
with almost absolute cei'tainty, overwhelmed the wretch
whom no peril could deter fi'om the adventiu'e, prevented the
unfui'iiished and imtenanled dwellings from being stripped,
by the hand of nightly rapine, of every article, such as iron,
brass, or lead woi*k, which could in any manner be turned to
a iirofitablo account.

Above all, it was usually found, upon the annual winter
opening of the barriers, that locks, bolts, and secret cellars,
had proved but slender protection to those rich stores of wines
and liquors which, in consideration of the risk and trouble of
removal, many of the numerous dealers having shops in the
neigliljorhood had consented to trust, dui'ing the period of
exile, to so insufficient a security.

But there were very few of the terror-stricken people who
attributed Ihcse doings to the agency of human hands. Pest-
spirits, plague-goblins, and fever-demons, were the popular
ini])3 of mischief ; and tales so blood-chilling were hourly
told, that the whole mass of forbidden buildings was, at
length, enveloped in terror as in a shroud, and the plunderer

KINO PEST.

163

liirasclf was often scared away by the horrors his own depre-
dations had crrated ; leaving the entire vast circuit of pro*
Ijibitfcd district to gloom, silence, pestilence, and death.

It was by one of the ten-ilic barriers ah-eady mentioned,
and which indicated the region beyond to bo under the Pest-
ban, tliat, in scrambhng down an alley, Legs and the worthy
Hugh Tarpaulin found their progress suddenly impeded. To
return was out of the question, and no tune was to be lost, as
their pursuers were close upon their heels. With thorough-
bred seamen to clamber up the loughly fashioned plank-work
was a tritle ; and maddened with the twofold excitement ol
exercise and liquor, they leaped unhesitatingly down within
the enclosure, and holding on their drunken course with shouts
and yellings- were soon bewildered in its noisome and intricate
recesses.

Ha<l they not, indeed, been intoxicated beyond moral sense,
their reeling footsteps nuist have been jialsied by the horrova
of their situation. The air Avas cold and luisty. Tlie paving-
stones, loosened from their beds, lay in wild disorder amid
(he tall, rank grass which sprang up around the feet and
ankles. Ffdlen houses choked up the streets. The most
fetid and poisonous smells overywlierc prevailed ; and l)y the
aid of that gliastl}'' light which, even at midnight, never fails
to emanate from a vapory and pestilential atmosphere, might
be discerned lying in the by-paths and alleys, or rotting in
the wiudowless hal>itations, the carcass ol n^any a nocturnal
plunderer arrested by the hand of the plague in the very per-
petration of his robber}'.

But it lay not in the power of images, or sensations, or im-
pediments such as these, to stay the couj-se of men wlio,
naturally brave, and, at that linu! especially, brimful of
courage and " humming-stuft"! " would have reeled, as
straight as their condition might have permitted, undauntedly
into the very jaws of Death. Onward — still onward stalked
the grim Legs, making the desolate solenuiity echo and re-
echo with yells like the terrific wax'-Avhoop of the Indian ; and
onward, still onward rolled the dumpy Tarpaulin, hanging
on to the doublet of his more active comiianion, and far sur-
passing the hitter's most strenuous exertions in the way of
vocal musi(\ by bull-roarings in hnnso, from the profundity of
his stentorian lungs.

They had now evidently reached the stronghold of the pes-
tilence. Their way at every ytep or plimge grew more nov

164

KING PEST.

some and more horrible — the paths more narrow and more
intricate. Huge stones and beams falling momently from the
decaying roo.s above them, gave evidence, by their sullen and
heavy descent, of the vast height of the surrounding houses ;
and while actual exertion became necessary to force a ])assage
through frequent heaps of rubbish, it was by no means snl-
dom that the hand fell upon a skeleton or rested upon a more
llesiiy corpse.

Suddenly, as the seamen stumbled against the eutrunce of
a tall and ghastly-looking building, a yell more than usually
shrill from the throat of the excited Legs, was replied to from
within, in a rapid succession of wild, laughter-like, and liend-
ish shrieks. Nothing daunted at sounds wliich, of such a na-
ture, at such a time, and in such ai)lace, might have curdled
the very blood in hearts less irrevocably on lire, the drunken
couple rushed headlong against the door, burst it ojien, and
staggered into the midst of things with a volley of curses.

The room within which they found themselves proved to bo
the shop of an luidertaker ; but an open trap-door, in a cor-
ner of the floor near the entrance, loolced down upon a long
range of wine-cellars, whose de])ths the occasional sound of
bursting bottles proclaimed to be well stored with their ap-
propriate contents. In the middle of the room stood a table
— in the centre of which again arose a huge tub of what ap-
peai'ed to be punch. Bottles of various wines and cordials,
together Avith jugs, pitchers, and flagons of every shape and
quality, were scattertid profusely upon the board. Around
it, upon coffin-trcsscls, were seated a company of six. This
company I will endeavor to delineate one by one.

Fronting the entrance, and elevated a little above his com-
panions, sat a personage who appeared to be the president of
tlie table. His stature was gaunt and tall, and Legs was con-
founded to behold in him a figure more emaciated thnn him-
self. His face was as yellow as saf&'on — but no feature, ex-
cepting one alone, was sufficiently marked to merit a particular
description. This one consisted in a forehead so unusually
and hideously lofty, as to have the apjiearance of a bonnet or
ci'own of flesh superadded upon the natural head. His moulh
was puckered and dimpled into an expression of ghiistly afl'a-
bility, and his eyes, as indeed the eyes of all at the table, wejv!
glazed over with the fumes of intoxiciiiou. This geidlonian
was clothed from head to foot in a rifhly embroidered Idack
silk-velvet pall, wrapped negligently around li'^i form after tho

KINO PEST.

1G5

fashion of a Bpaiiiisli cloak. His lieacl was stuck full of sablo
}j(';aae-ijluiueH, which ho iioddt'd to and fro with a jaunty and
knowuij^ air ; and in his ri<^'ht hand he held a lm<j;e hunum
thigh-bone, with which he api^eared to have been just kn(}ck-
w^ down some member of the company for a song.

Opposite him, and Avitli her back to the door, was a lady of
no Avhit the less extraordinary character. Although quite ns
tall as the jicrson just described, sho had no right to com-
plain of his unnatural emaciation. She was evidently in the
last stage of a dropsy ; and her ligure resembled nearly that
of the huge puncheon of October beer which stood, with the
head cliiven in, close by lior side, in a corner of the chamber.
Her face was exceedingly round, red, and full ; and the same
peculiarity, or rather want of pec^nliarity, attached itself to her
countenance, which Iljcfore mentioned in tlio case of the })resi-
dcnt — that is to say, only one feature of her face was suffi-
ciently disiinguishnl to need a separate characterization:
indeed the acute Tarpanliu immediately observed that the
same remark might hiivo ajiplied to each individual person of
the party, every one; of whom seemed to possess a monopoly
of some particular portion of physiognomy. With the lady
in rjuestion this portion proved to be the mouth. Commen-
cing at the right ear, it swept with a terrific chasm to the left
— the short pend;Mits which she wore in either anricle contin-
ually bobbing into the aperture. Sho made, however-, every
<'xertion to keep her mouth c1os(kI and look dignified, in a
dress consisting of a ncAvly starched an<l ironed shroud com-
ing up close under her cliin, with a crimpled rnflle of cam-
bric muslin.

At her right hand sat a dimiiuitivo young lady whom she
appeared to i)atroni/.e. Tliis delicate creature, in the trem-
bling of her wasted lingers, in the li\id hue of her lips, and in
tjie slight hectic spot Avhich tinged her otherwise leaden com-
])lc.;ion, gave evident indications of a gallojiing consumption.
An air of extreme liavl to)), however, pervaded her whole ap-
pearance ; she wore in a graceful and diyagn; manner, a large
and beantifid winding-sheet of the finest India lawn ; her hair
hung in ringlets over her neck ; a soft smile played about
her mouth ; but her nose, extremely long, thin, sinuous,
flexible, and pimpled, hung down far l)elow her under lip,
and in spite of the delicate maimer in which she now and
then moved it to one side or the other with her tongue, gave
to her coiuiteuancc a somewhat equivocal expression.

IGG

KTNO PKST.

Ovcf nj^ainst lier, ami upon the left (;f the tlropsicul lady,
was seatocl a littk' i>uliy, \vli(!c/iu<^, and ^outy old man, uhowi
chookrt rr-jKJScd x^xm llio Hhouldrrs of tlicir owner like two
huf^'e Itladders of Oporto wine. AVith his arniK folded, and
vith one bandaged leg deposit(!d upon the table, he seemed
to think himself entitled to some consideration. He evidently
prided himself much upon every inch of his pei'sonal appeai*-
ance, but took more especial delight in calling attenlion to
his gaudy-colored surtcut. This, to say the truth, must have
cost him no little money, and was made to lit him exceetl-
ingly well — being fashioned from one of the curiously em-
broidered silken covers appertaining to those glorious escutch-
eons which, in England and elsewhere, are customarily hung
up, in some conspicuous place, upon the dwellings of departed
aristocracy.

Next to him, and at the right hand of the president, was a
gentleman in long white hose and cotton drawers. His frame
shook, in a ridiculous manner, with a tit of what Tarpaulin
called "the horrors." His jaws, which had been newly
shaved, were tightly tied up by a bfuidage of muslin ; and liis
arms being fastened in a similar way at the wrists, prevented
him from helping himself too freely to the liquors upon the
table ; a precaution rendered neccessary, in the opinion of
Legs, by the peculiarly sottish and wine-bibbing cast of liis
visage. A pair of ])rodigious ears, nevertheless, which it was
no doubt found impossible to confine, towered away into the
atmosphere of the aiiartment, and were occasionally pricked
up in a sjjasm, at the sound of the drawing of a cork.

Fronting him, sixthly and lastly, was situated a singularly
stifl-looking personage, who, being jilliicted with paralysis,
must, to speak seriously, have felt very ill at ease in his un-
accommodating habiliments. He was habited, somewhat
uniquely, in a new and handsome mahogany coHin. Its top
or head-piece pressed upon the skull of the weartu-, and ex-
tended over it in the fashion of a hood, giving to the entire
face an air of indescribable interest. Arm-holes had been
cut in the sides for the sake not more of elegance than of
convenience ; but the dress, nevertheless, prevented its pro-
prietor from sitting as erect as his associates ; and as he lay
reclining against his tressel, at an angle of forly-tive degrees,
a ijair of huge goggle eyes rolled up their awful whites to-
ward the ceiling in absolute amazement at their own enor*
mity.

RING PEST.

If-"

)»

Before each of tlio party lay a portion of a skull, whicli
was used as a (lrinkiii<^'-cup. Overheail was suspended a
liuuian skeleton, l)y means of a rope tiod round one of tlie
legs ami fastened to a ring in the ceiling. Tlio other limb,
contined by no such fetter, stuck olf from the body at right
angles, causing the wliolo loose and rattling frame to dangle
and twirl about at the cajmce of every occasional pu IT of wind
Avhich found its way into the apartment. In the cranium of
this hideous thing lay a (piantity of ignited charcoal, which
threw a htful but vivid light over tlie entire scene ; while cof-
dus, and other wares appertaining to the shop of an under-
taker, were piled high up around the room, and against the
windows, preventing any ray from escaping into the street.

At sight of this extraordinary assembly, and of their still
more extraordinary paraphernalia, our two soamcn did not
conduct themselves with that degree of decorum whiili might
have been expected. Legs, loaning against the wall near
which he happened to be standing, dropped his lower jaw
still lower than usual, and spread ojien his eyes to their
fullest extent ; while Hugh Tarpaulin, stooping down so as
to bi'ing his nose upon a level with the table, and spreading
out a palm upon either knee, burst into a long, loud, and ob-
streperous roar of very iU-timed and immoderate laughter.

Without, however, taking oifence at beha\ior so excessively
rude, the tall president smiled very gi'aciously upon the in-
truders — nodded to them in a dignilied manner with his
head of sable plumes — and, arising, took each by an arm,
and led him to a seat which some others of the company had
placed in the meantime for his acc<... modation. Legs to all
this offered not the slightest resistance, but sat down as he
was directed ; while the gallant Hugh, removing his coflin
tressel from its station near the head of the table, to the vi-
cinity of the little consumptive lady in the winding-sheet,
plumped down by her side in high glee, and pouring out a
skull of red wine, qualfed it to their better acquaintance.
But at this presumption the stift* gentleman in the cofhn
seemed exceedingly nettled ; and serious consequences might
have ensued, had not the president, rapping upon the table
with his tmnclieon, diverted the attention of all present to
the following speech :

" It becomes our duty upon the present happy occasion •"

" Avast there ! " interrupted Legs, looking very serious,
" avast there a bit, I say, and toll who the devil ye all are, and

IfiS

1\IN(! rraiT.

what l)usiiics?« ye Im.vo licro, ri;,'f,'Cil olV lik<Hlio fdiil liciids, iuul
s\villi]i<:[ Iho sini;» l)liio ruin ntowod nwixy for tlio winter by my
lioiu'st, hliipinatc, AVill Wiinl)le the undertaker! "

At this unpar(lonal)l(i picco of ill-brocdinj;', all the <)ri;4'inal
compjiny half started to tiu.'ir feet, and uttered the name rapid
snocOKsion of wild iiendish shrielcH which hail before can.u'ht
the attention of the seamen. The presidcint, however, was the
tirst to recover his comijosurc, and at length, turning to Le;(H
with groat dignity, recomnicnc(!d :

"Most willingly will wo grat'^'v any I'casonable curiosity on
tho part of guests so illusti"" uid)idden though they be.

Know then that in these don s I am nionarcli, and here

rule with undivided empire unucr the tide of ' Jving i'est tho
First.'

" This aiiartment, which you no doubt profanely supjiose to
bo the shop of Will A\'ind)l(! tho luideriaker— a man whom we
know not, and whoso plebeian appellation has never licfore this
night thwarted our royal eais — lhis a])arlm(>nt, J say, is th(!
Dais-Chandjer of our Palace, devoted to the councils of our
kingdom, and to other sacred and h)fly piu'iioses.

" Tho iioble lady who sits opposite is Queen I'est, our Serriie
Consort. The other oxiilted ])ersonages who]a you behold
arc all oi our family, and wear tho insignia of tho blood royal
luidf r tho respective titles of ' liis (ii'aee the Archduke Pest-
iferous '—' His (iraco tho l)uk(i I'est-Ilentiar— 'Hi^ (iraco
the Duko Tcm-Pest' — and 'Her Svjreno Highness the Arch-
duchess Ana- Pest.'

"As regards," continued he, "yoiu" demand of the business
upon which we sit here in coun(dl, w(> might be pardoned for
replying that it concerns, and concerns alone, our own private
and I'egal interest, and is in no manner imijortant to any other
than ourself. But in consideration of those rights to which, as
guests and strangers, you may feel yourselves entitled, we will I

furthermore exi)lain that we are here this night, j^repared by
deep research and accurate investigation, to examine, analyze,
and thoroughly determine the indefinable spirit — the incom-
prehensible qualities and nature — of those inestimable treas-
ures of the palate, the wines, ales, and liqueurs of this goodly
metropolis ; by so doing to advance not more our own debigns
than the true welfare of that uncartldy sovereign -whose reign
is over us all, whose dominions aje unlimited, and whose name
ir ' Death.' "

" Whose uame ie Davy Jones ! " ejaculated Tai-pauliji, help

jaNG PEST.

169

ing the lady by liia side to a Hkull of liquoiir, and pouriug out
a s(!('()iid for liiinsolf.

'• Pi'ofiiiio vailct ! " said tli(> prftsidcrit, now turning Ijis at.-
tcntiftn to tlio wortliy Hugh, " profauo ami (•xc('ral)le wretch !
we liave Haid, that in couKideration of those rights whicli,
(vou in thy tilthy person, we feci no inclination to violate, we
liave condesccndfid to make reply to thy riule and un.season-
ablc iniiuirics. We nevertholoKS, for thy unhallowed intrusion
upon our councils, l" lleve it our duty to nuUct thee and thy
foiiipaniou in eacli a gallon of Bhick JStrap, having ind)il)ed
wlu(;li to the prosperity of our kingdom, ut a singh; draught
and upon your bended knees, ye shall be forthwith free
citlier to proceed )ipoii yoiu- way, or remain and be admit-
Icd to the privileges of our table, according to your rcsjKctive
and individual pleasures."

"It would be a matterof utter un])OHsibility."' replied Legs,
whom the assumjitions and ilignity of King I'est the First hud
evidently inspireil with some feelings of respect, and who arose
and steadied himself by the table as he spoke — " it would,
l)IeaHe your majesty, bo a matter of utter uiipossibility to stow
away iu my hold ev( ii one-fourth part of that Siinie li(pior
which your majesty has just mentioned. To say nothing of
llie stutfs place<l ou board in the forenoon by way of ballast,
and not to mention the various ales and liijueur.s shipped this
evening at various seaports, I have, at present, a full cargo of
'hununing stull" taken iu and duly paid for at the sign of the
'Jolly Tar.' You will, therefore, jjlease your majesty, be so
good as to tak(! the will for the deed — for by no manner of
means either can I or will I swallow another drop — least of all a
drop of that villanous bilge-water that answers to the hail of
'Black-Strap.'"

"JJeLiy that!" interrupted Tarpaulin, astonished not
more at the length of his <;oinpaniou's speech tlian at the na-
ture of his refusal, " l>elay that, you lubber! and I say,
Legs, none of your palaver ! J/>/ hull is still light, although
I confess you yourself seem to be a little top-heavy ; and as
for the matter of yoiu* share of the cargo, why, rather than
raise a squall I would tiud stowage-room for it myself,
but "

" This proceeding," interposed the i)rcsident, " is by no
means in aecoi"dan<;e with the terms of the mulct or sentence,
which is iu its nature Median, and not to be altered or re-
called. The conditions we have imposed must be fulfilled to

170

Kiiya PKS'i.

tlie letter, find that -without ii iiioment's hesitation — in failure
of whicli fultihnent wo dcereo that you do here lie tied neck
and heels together, and duly drowned as rebels in yon hoys-
head of October beer ! "

" A sentence ! — a sentence ! —a ri^'hteous and just sentence !
— a glorious decree ! — a most \vorthy and upright, and holy
condemnation ! " sliouted the Pest family altogether. Tiic
king elevated his forehead into innumerable wrinkles ; tlie
gouty little old man pulled like a pair of bellows ; the lady of
the winding-f^licet waved her nose to and fro ; the gentUfman
in the cotton drawers pricked up his ears ; she of the sln-oud
gaspad like a dying fish ; and he of the coffin looked stiff and
roiled uj) his eyes

Ugh!

ugli

ugh!" chuckled Tarpaulin, v ithont heeding
' ujjjh ! ugh ! ugh ! — ugn ! ugh ! u^h !

the general excitation,

ugli — ugh ! ugh! ugh! — I was saying," said he, "I was say-
ing, when Mr. King I'est poked in his marline-spike, that as for
the matter of two or three gallons more or less of Black Stra]),
it was a trifle to a tight sea-boat like myself not overstowed ;
but when it comes to drinking the health of tlie Devil (whom
God assoilzie) and going down upon my marrow-bones to his
ill-favored majesty thei'e, whom I know, as well as 1 know
myself to ha a sinner, to be nobody in the whole world but
Tim Hurlygurly tlie stage-player ! — why ! it's quite another
guess sort of a thing, and utterly and altogethev past my
comprehension."

He was not allowed to finish this speech in tranquillity.
At the name of Tim Hurlygurly the whole assembly leajjed
from their seats.

" Treason ! '' shouted his Majesty King Pest the Fii'st,

said the little man with tlie gout.

screamed the Archduchess Ana-Pest.

muttered the gentleman with his jaws tied up.

growled he of the coffin.

treason ! " shrieked htsr majesty of the mouth ;
and, seizing liy the hinder part of his breeches the unfortu-
nate Taqiaulin, who had just commenceil jiouring out for
himself Ji skull of liqueur, she lifted hiiii high into the air, and
let liim fall without ceremony into the huge open pimcheon
of his beloved ale. Bobliing up and down, for a few seconds,
like an apple in a bowl of toddy, lie at length finally disap-
peared amid the whirlpool of foam which, in the already (.'f-
i'ervescent liquor, his struggles easily succeeded in creating.

"Treason!"
" Treason !
"Treason!"
" Treason ! "
" Treason !

KTNG PEST.

171

1 lu)yH-

Not tfirael\', however, did the tall seaman boliold the dis-
ooiutituro of ''is coinp;aiioii. JustUng King Pest through th«
open trap, the ^■a^ant Legs slammed the door down upon
liim with an oath, and strode toward the centre of the room.
Heiu tearing down the skeleton whieh swung over the table,
ho laid it about him v.ith so mueh energy and good-will, that,
as the last glimpses of light died away within the apartment,
he succeeded in knocking out the brains of the little gentle-
man with the gout. lUishing then with all his force against
the fatal hogshead full of October ale auvl ILigh Tarpaulin,
he rolled it over and over in an instruit. Out burst a deluge
of liquor so fierce, so impetuous, so ovcrwhehuiug. that the
roiim was floi/dcd from \\all to wall — the loaded taljle was
ovLrtnrned— the tressels were thrown upon their backs — the
tiil> of punch into the fireplace — and the ladies into liysterics.
Piles of death-furiiiturc floundered al>out. Jugs, jatchers, and
carboys miugle<l pr')miscuously in the miUc, and wicker flag-
ons encountered des])erately witli bottles of junk. The man
with the liornn-s was drowned u^ion thfr spot — the little still'
gentleman floated oft' in his cotiin — and the victorious Legs,
seizing by the v^-aist the fat lad} in the shroud, rushed out
wifli her into the street, and made a bee-line for the Free
and Easy, followed under easy sail by the redoubtable Hugh
T.irpaulin, who, having sneezed three or four fiuie.s, panted
anil putlbd after him wilii the Archduchess .iVna-Pest.

THREE SUNDAYS IN A WEEK.

" You hard-liearted, cluiulcr-lioaded, obstinat(>, rusty, cvusly,
musty, fusty old savage ! " said I, in fancy, one aftcvuooii, to
my granduncle Kumgudgeon — shaking my tist at him in
imagination.

Only in imagination. The fact is. some trivial discrc^pancy
did exist, just then, betvveen wliat I said and what T had not
the courage to sav — between what 1 did and what 1 liad half
a mind to do.

The old porpoise, as I opened the drawing-room door, was
sitting v-'ith his feet upon the niantel-])iece, and a bumper of
port in Ilia paw, making strenuous eilorts to accomphsh the
ditty

J{em])lut ton verre vitle!
Vuie ton verre plein !

"My dear ;incle," said I, clo.sing the door gently, and ap-
proaching him with the blandest of smiles, " you are always
so i;m/ kind and considerate, and have (vinced your b( iicvo-
lence in so many — so ir/'v many ways — that— that I feel 1
have only to suggest this little jjoint to you once more to make
sure of your full acquiescence."

" Hem ! " said he, " good boy ! go on."

"I am sure, my dearest imcle fyou confounded old rascal !|,
that you liave no design really, seriously, to o])po:-!e my union
with Kai(f. This is merely a joke of yours, I know— ha ! ha!
ha ! — how vrxj j)leasant you are at times."

"Ha! ha! lia ! " said he, " curse you ! yes!"

' To b(^ sure- of course! I X»t'*r you were jesting. Now,
uncle, all that Kate and myself wisli at present, is that you
would oblige us with your advice a-<- as regards the limf. —
yoa kuow, ujucie— iu short, wlien will it bo most convenient

TIIRKK SlNDxiYS IN A WEEK.

173

for yoixn>clf, that tlio wcddiug shall — .shiill— coiiio off, yon
know ? ■*

" Come oif, you .vouurlrel I — wliah do yon mean l)y that? — '
Botter wai; till it "oca on."

"Ha: lir»: ha:— lu'l lie! h

-hi : hi ! hi !— ho ! ho ! ho !

— hn ! hn ! hu : — oh, that's good ! — oh, that's capital — i^nrk a
wit ! Bu't all we want jn.st nov), you know, uncle, is that you
\\ ould indic-ii**^ the time precisely."

" Ah :— prec J:fly V '

"Yes, uucle — that Ls, if it would he (]uito agreeable to
yor.rsclf."

" Wouldn't it answer, B<jbby, if I were to leave it at ran-
dom — fionie time within a year or so, for example ? — must I
say iirecisely? '

'•//you please, nnrle — precisely."

" WelL, theD, Booby, my boy — you're a fine fellow, aren't
you V — since rou tall have the exact time, I'll — why, I'll oblige
you for ouf

"Dear unck- '. '

"Hush, sir : ' [IrowninLj my voice] — • ill <i])ligeyou for
once. You shall havf '.,y consent — and the^»/»)», we muat'nt
forget the plufn — let me ~*o ! when shall it be? To-day's
•Sunday — Lsu't it ? Well, then, you shall bo married precisely
—yv/vii.-^*'///, now mind! — ivlu'ii Ihrrc Suinlu >;»'.i' Intjethcr ia
a I reek ! Do you hoar mc, sir ? liV/a^ are you gaping at? I
say, you shiJi have Kite and hi • I'lum when three Sundays
come together in awef*k — but not till then — yim young scape-
grace — not (Hi thr>n, if I die for it. You know me — I'm a ma)i
of mtj uord — now be otl'! " Here hi; s\\ llowcd his bumper
of jiort, while I rushed from the room i i vlespair.

Avery ''lineoM English gentleman," was my grand-uncle
Kumgudgeox but unhke lum of the song, he had his weak
])oints. He w;ts a httle, i)ursy, pompous, passionate, semicir-
cular Komebody, witii a red nose, a thick skull, a long purse,
and a strong sense <)i his own consequence. With the best
heart in the world, ho contrived, through a predominant
whim of corilradiclion, to earn for himself, umcjng those who
only knew him superticially, the character of a ciu'mudgcon.
Like many excellent petvple, he seemcil ])ossessed with a s))irit
of tanioJojaiujn, which might e isily, at a casual glance, have
been iui!>takeu for malevolence. To every rccpiest, a positive
"No'" wa>i hi> iranif^diati- answer; but in the end — in the
luny, luiii,' eiid — theru were excceiUugly few requests which

174

THREE mrNDATS 7JV A WEEK.

be refused. Against all attacks upon his pnvso ho mado tho
most sturdy defence ; but the an^ount extorted from him at
last was, generally, in direct ratio with the length of tho siege
and the stubbornness of the resistance. In charity no one
gave move liberally or with a worse grace.

For the lino arts, and especially for the belles lottres, ho
entertained a profound contempt. With this ho had l)een
inspired by Casimir Perier, whoso pert little query ".^1 quoi
^m 2)o!te exl-it boi> ? '' ho was in the habit of quoting, with a
very droll pronunciation, as the ve jilaa iilJra of logical Avit.
Thus my own inkling for tho Muses had excited his entire
disiileasurc. He assured mo one day, when I asked him for a
new copy of Horace, that ilio translation of "YV'/a luiHcihn'
von fit " v/as "a nasty poet for nothing fit" — a remark which
I took in high dudgeon. His re[)Ugnance to " tho human-
ities" liad, also, nuich increased of late, by an accidental bias
in favor of what he supposed to bo natural science. Some-
body had accosted him in tho street, mistaking him f(n' no
less a personage than Doctor Hiii)blo L. ])ee, the lecturer
upon quack physics. This not him oil' at a tangent ; and just
at the epoch of this story — for story it is getting to 1)0 after
all^ — luy grand-uncle llumgudgcon was accessible and pacilic
only upon points which happened to chime in with tho (;a}>-
riolcs of the hobliy he was riding. For the rest, ho laughed
with liis arms and legs, and his politics were stubborn and
easily uudor.stood. Ho thought, with Horsley, that " tlie peo-
ple liavo nothing to do witli the laws but to obey them."

I had lived Avith tho old gentleman all jny life. ]\Iy jwr-
ents, in dying, had bequeathed me to him as a rich legacy.
I believe the old villain loved me as his own child — nearly if
not quite as avcU as ho loved Kate — but it was a Jog's exist-
ence that ho led mo, after all. From my iirst j-eao." until my
fifth, lie obliged mo with very regular floggiii;;s. From fivo
to fifteen, he threatened mo hourly with the House of Cor-
rection. From fifteen to twenty not a day pasaed in which
he did not pronuse to cut mo off with a shilling. I was a sad
dog, it is true — but then it was a })art of my nature — a point
of my faith. In Kate, however, I had a lirm friend, and Ij
knew it. She was a good girl, and told me very sweetly that
I might have her (plum and all) whiJiievei: I could badge)' myV
grand-iuicle Kumgudgeon into tho ne(!ehisary (ujtisent. Foor-
girl! — she was barely lifteen, and witlRnit^ this <'onsent, hvv'
little amount in the funds was not como-at-abl^ mitil live ini-

TlUtKlC miNDAYH TN A \VFJ']rC.

17E

rnofisiuviblo siDumors liad "dragged tlicir slow length along.'*
AMuil, ilicii, <«) doV At tiftocii, or even :it tweniy-ono (fori
IkkI now passed my fifth olympiad), live yeai's in prospect are
vf ry nmeh the saiiio as live hundred. In vain we besieged
Uic oil gentleman with importunities. Hero was a ^zmc dt',
riddance (as Messienrs Ude and Carene would say) which
suited liis perverse fancy to a T. It would hfive stirred the
indignation of Job hijusclf, to see how much like an old mou-
sor he behaved to us two i)oor wretched little mice. In his
licart ho wished for nothing more ardently than our union.
He had made up his mind to this iill along. In fact, he would
have given ten thousand povnids from his own pocket (Kate's
plum was her oicii) if ho could have iuvenleu i'.nything like an
excuse for complying -witli our veiy natural v. ishes. But then
we had been so imprudent as to broach the subject owselvcs.
Not to oppose it under such circumstances, I sincerely be-
lieve was not in his power.

I have said already thtit lie had his weak points ; but, in
sjjeaking of these I must not be understood as referring to his
obstinacy — which was one of his strong points — "fls.s'/rc-
vicut ce n'iiait ])as son faible." When I mention his weakness
I have allusion to a hizurrc oki-womanish superstition which
beset him. He was great in dreams, portents, el id (jenasontnt;
of rigmarole. Ho was excessively punctilious, too, upon small
points of honor, and, after his own fashion, was a man of his
word, beyond doubt. This was, in fact, one of his hobbies.
The spirit oi his vows he made no scruple of setting at naught,
but the /(7/(.r was a bond inviolable. Now it Avas this latter
peculiarity in l.'is dis])osition, of which Kate's ingenuity en-
al^ed us one line day, not long after our interview in the din-
ing-room, to take u very unexpecteil advantiige, and, having
thus, in the fashion of all modern bards juid orators, exhausted
in prolcfjoineiia, all tlio time at my command, and nearly all
tlie room at nay dis})osal, I will sum up in a few words what
constitutes the whole pith of the story.

It happened then — so the Fates ordered it — that among the
naval ac([uaintances of my betrothed, were two gentlemen who
had just set foot u] ion the shores of England, after a year's
absence, each, in foreign travel. In company with these gen-
tlemen, my cousin and I, preconcerti'dly, paid uncle Rumgud-
gcon a visit on the afternoon of Smiday, October the tenth —
just three weeks after the menioralile decision ^vhieh had so
cruelly defeatcil our hopes. Tor about half an hour tho

176

THIiEB sum) ATS IN A WEEK.

conversation ran npon ortlinni'y topics ; but at last wo eon.
trivetl, quite natnviilly, to give it the follcjwiiig tnrn :

Cafd. Pratt. "Well, I liave been alisent just one year.
Just one year to- Jfvy, as I live— let mo aea ! yi^s ! — this is OcU
ober the tenth. You remember, Mi\ llumgudgeon, I called
this day year to bid you good-bye. And by the way, it does
seem something like a coincidence, do(>s it not — that our
friend, Cajitaiu Smitlierton, here, has been abseiit exactly a
year also — a year to-day ? "

Smithetion. "Yes! just one year to a fraction. You will
remember, Mr. Rumgudgeon, that I called with Capt. Pratfc
on this very day, last year, to pay my parting respects."

Uncle. "Yes, yes, yes — I remember it vei'y well — veiy
queer indeed ! Both of you gone just one year. A very
strange coincidence, indeed ! Just what Doctor Bubble L.
Dee would denominate an extraordinary conciu'rcnce of events.
Doctor Dub "

Kate. ^Interrupting.'] "To bo sure, papa, it ?.s something
strange ; but then Captain Pratt and Captain Sniithorton
didn't go altogether the same route, and that makes a diiror-
ence, you know."

Uncle. " I don't know any such thing, you huzzy ! How
should I ? I think it only maizes the matter more remarkable.
Doctor Dubble L. Dee "

Kale. "Why, papa, Captain Pratt went round Ca]io Horn,
and Captain Suiitlierton tloubled the Cape of (lood Hope."

Uncle. " Precisely ! — the one went east and the other went
west, you jade, and they botli have gone quite round Ihe
world. By the by. Doctor Dubble L. Dee "

Myself, [f/urriaili/.l "Captain Pratt, you must come and
spend the evening with us to-morrow— you and Siuitlicrton —
you can tell us all about your voyage, and wc;'!! have a gamo
of whist and "

Pratt. " Whist, my dear fellow — you forget. To-morrow
will be Sunday. Some other « ing "

Kale. "Oh, no, fie! — Kobe not quite so bad as that,
T\>-dai/'.^ Sandfly. "

Uncle. " To 1)0 sure — to be sure ! "

Pratt. " 1 beg both your pardons — but I can't 1)e so nuich
mistaken. I l;now to-morrow's Sunda)', because "

Sniithcrtoii. \jMucIi .sur/iriKcd.] "Wliat arc you all thinking
about? Wasn't i/estcrdin/ Sunday, I should like to know?"

All. "Yesterday, indeed! you are out ! "

;

THREE BUND A TS IN A WEEK.

177

TmcIc. " To-day's Sunday, I say — don't /know? "

Pratt. " Oh no ! — to-moiTow'H Sunday."

Sndthcrton. "You are all mad — every one of you. I uin an
positive that yesterday was Sunday, as I aiu that I .sit upon
this chair."

Kal-'. [ Jumping vp rngerh/.] "I see it — I sec it :\l\. Papa,
this is a jud.^'ment upon you, about — about you know what,
liet mo alone, and 111 explain it all in a minute. It's a very
simple ihing, indeed. Captain Smitherton says that yesterday
was Sunday : so it was ; he is rii;ht. Cousin Bobby, and
imcle and I, say that to-day is Sunday : so it is ; we are rijjfht.
Captain Pratt maintains that to-morrow will be Sunday: so it
Avill ; he is ri,^ht., too. The fact is, wo are all right, and thus
three Sunda>js have come together in a v-eeL:"

Sinitlierton. \Afler o. panHe.\ "By the by, Pratt, Kate has
us completely. \N'hat tools wo two are ! Mr. Kumgudgeon,
the matter stands thus : the earth you know is twenty-four
thousand miles in circumference*. Now this globe of the earth
tui'us upon its own axis — revolves — s])ins round — these twenty-
four thousand miles of extent, going from west to east, in
precisely twenty-four hours. Do you understand, Mr. Ilum-
gudgeon ? "

Uncle. "To be sure — to be sure — Doctor Dub "

Smitherton. \I)ron-niiig his voice.] "Well, sir ; that is at the
rate of one thousand miles per hour. Now, suppose that I sail
from this position a tliousand miles east. Of course, I antici-
])ate the rising of the sun here at London, l)y just one hour.
1 see the sxui rise one hour before you do. Proceeding, in the
same direction, yet another thousand miles, I anticipate the
rising l)y two hours — anotlier thousand, and I anticijiate it by
three hours, and so on, until I go entirely round the globe,
and back to this spot, when, having gone twenty-four thousand
miles east, I anticij)atft the rising of the London sun by no less
than twenty-four iiuurs ; that is to say, I am a day in advance
of vour time. Lhulerstand, eh ? "

Uncle. " But Dubble L. Dee "

Smitherton. [Spca/^ing vcrij load.] Captain Pratt, on the con-
trary, when lie had sailed a thousand miles west of this posi-
tion, was an hoiu-, and when he had sailed twenty-four thou-
sand miles west, was twenty-four hours, or one day, behind.
the time at London. Thus, with me, yesterday was Sunday
- thus, with you, to-day is Sunday -and thus, with Pratt, to-
morrow will be Sunday. And wliat in more, Mr. Kumgud-

THREE SUNDA YS IN A WEEK.

geon, it is positively clear that we are nil right : for there can
be no pliilosojiliical reason assigned why the idea of on-i of us
shoiUd have ])reference over that of tlie other."

Uncle. " My eyes !— well, Kate— well, Bobby !— this is a
judgjnent itpon nie, as you say. But I am a man of my word
—mark Hint ! you sliall have her, boy (plain and all), wlienyou
please. Done up, by Jove ! Three Sinuhiys all in a row. I'll
go, and take Dubble L. Dee's opinion upon tJtat."

THE DEVIL IN THE BELFRY.

What o'clock is it ? — Old Saying.

EvKRYiiODY knows, in a ii^puoral AVfiy, that the finest place in
the world is — or, alas, »'«s — the Dutcli borough of Voudtrvot-
tciniittiss. Yet, as it lies sonic distance from any of the main
roads, being in a somewhat out-of-tluvway situation, there
arc, perhaps, very f(!W of my readers who liave ever paid it a
visit. For the benoiit of those who have not, therefore, it will
be only proper that I should enter into some aceount of it.
And this is, indeed, the more necessary, as with tlie hope of
enlisting pulilic sympathy in behalf of tlie inliabitants, I de-
sign here to give a hisfoi'y of the calamitous events which have
so lately oocurrrul within its limits. No one who knows mo
will doubt that tlie duty thus self-imposed will be executed to
the l)est of my ability, with all that rigid impartiality, all that
cautious examination into facts, and diligent collation of au-
thorities, which should ever distinguish him who aspires to
the title of historian.

Vjy the united aid of medals, manuscripts, and inscriptions,
I am enabled to say, positively, tluit the borough of Vonder-
votteimittiss has existed, from its origin, in precisely the same
condition which it at present preserves. Of the (late of this
origin, however, I grieve that I can only speak ^vith that spe-
cies of indefinite deliniteness which matliematicians ai'e, at
times, forced io put \ip with in certain algebraic formidse.
The date, I may thus saj', in rcg.nrd to the remoteness of its
antiquity, cannot be less than any assign-^ ble (piantity wliatso-
evcr.

Touching the derivatimi of the name Vondervotteimittiss, I
confess myself, with sorrow, equally at fault. Among a mul
titmle of opinions upon this delicat(! point — some acute, some
learned, some suOiciently the reverse— I am able to select uoth-

180

THE DEVIL fN TITE liELFRY.

ing •\vhicl' ouf^lit tol)f; considered saiisfactorv. Pcrliapa the idea
of GrofTs\vi{;"ff — ncai'Iy eoincident with lliat of Kroutaploiittpy
• — is to Ijf cautiously prefiJiTod. It runs : — " VondcrimiiuiuiUit^n
— Vondcr, Icfjn Doiud'r — \'ollt'.imillif.-^,i[tiafiiiin(l Jllciliiz -Ji/cilziz
ob^ol : prn Jilihfu." This dcrivatioii, to Hay tJie Iruth, is still
countenanced by some traces of the electric tluid evident on
the summit of the steejile of tlie House of the Town-Council.
I do not choose, however, to commit myself on a theme of
such impoi'tance, and must refer the reader desirous of infor-
mation to the " Oraliiniculir de Jirlno: J'r<rte7'-Vct('7'i>t," of Dun-
dergutz. 8ee, also, Blunder!) uzard '' JJe Uerimlioxibut^," yt]}.
27 to 5010, Folio, (Gothic edit.. Red and Blade character.
Catch-word and No Cypher ; — wherein consult, also, mari^inal
notes in the autograph of tStutrundputV, with the sub-Commcu-
tai'ies of Gnintundguzzell.

Notwithst.inding the obscurity -which thus envelops the
date of the fovuidation of Yondervotteimittiss, an<l the deriva-
tion of its name, there can be no doubt, as I said before, that
it has always existed as we find it at this epoch. The oldest
man in the borough can reinombcr not the slightest diiTercnco
in the nppcarance of any jiortion of it ; and, indeed, tlie very
suggestion of such a possibility is considered an insult. The
site of the village is in a perfectly circular valley, about a
quarter of a mile in circiumference, and entirely surrounded
by gentle hills, over whose summit the people have never j'et
ventured to pass. For this they assign the very good reason
that they do not believe there is anything at all on the other
side.

Round tlae skirts of the valley (which is qnito level, and
paved throughout ^\ ith flat tiles) extends a continiious row
of sixty little houses. These, having their backs on the hills,
must look, of course, to the centre of the plain, which is just
sixty yards from the front door of each dwelling. Every
house has a smsill garden before it, with a circular path, a sun-
dial, and twentv-fout cabbages. The buildings themselves are
so pi'ecisely alike, that one can in no manner be distinguished
from the other. Owing to the vast antiquity, the style of archi-
tecture is somewhat odd, but it is not for that reason the less
strikingly ])icturesquo. They are fashione<l of hard-lmrned
little briclvs, red, with black ends, so that the walls look like
a cheas-])oard xq)on a great scale. The gables are turned to
tlie front,, and thei-e are cornices, as big as all the I'est of liio
house, over the eaves anil over the main doors. Tlie windows

'THE DEVIL IN THE BELFRY.

181

ai'P narrow nnd deep, with very tiny panta and a great deal of
Bash. On ilie rool" is a v.Tst quantify of tiles with long curly
e;irs. The woodwoi'k, throughout, is of a dark hue, and there
is much carving about it, with but a trilling variety of pattern ;
for, time out of mind, the carvers of Vondervotteindttiss h;ive
never been able to carve more than two objects — a time-pit ce
and a cabbage. But these they do exceedingly well, and in-
ters[)erye them, with singular ingcnuily, wherever they iiiA
room for the chisel.

The dwellings are as much alilce inside as out, and tlic furni-
tiu'e is all upon one plan. The lloors are of scpiare tiles, tlie
chairs and tables of black-looking wood with thin crooked
leji^s and pujipy feet. The niantcl-pic ces are wide and high,
and have not only time-pieces and enbbagi-s sculptured over
tlie front, but a real time-piece, which makes a prodigious
ticking, on the top in the middle, with a llc^wf rpot contain-
ing a cabbage standing on (>ach (>xtrcmity by way of outi'ider.
Between each cabbage and the time-piece, again, is a little
Cliina man having a large stomach with a great i-ound hole in
it, through which is seen the dial-plate of a watch.

The ilre-places are large and deep, v>ith iierce crooked-
looking tire-dogs. There is constiinlly a rousing tire, and a
huge pot over it, full of saur-kraut and pork, to whioh the
good Avoman of the house is always busy in attending. She
is a little fat old lady, with blue eyes and a k.I face, ami
Vvcars a huge cap like a sug-ar-l(Kif, ornanK'iited with ])iu'ple
and yellow ribljons. Her dress is of orange-colored linsey-
woolsey, made v( ry full behin<l and v( ry short in the waist —
nnd indeed v(M'y sliort in other resjiecls, not re:;ching below
the middle of her leg. This is somewhat thick, and so are
her ankles, but she has a line pair of green stocl.ings to cover
them. Her shoes — of pink leather — are l'asi(>i.'ed each with a
bunch of yellow ribbon-, puckered up in the shape of a cab-
bage. In her left hand tmw, has a little he.avy Dutch watch ; in
her right she wields a ladle for the sauer-kraut and porlv. By
her side there stands a fat tabby cat, with a gilt toy repeater
tied to its tail, which "the boys " have there fastened by way
of a quiz.

The boys themselves are, all three of them, iii the garden
attending the pig. They are each two feet in Jieiglit. They
have three-cornered cocked hats, purjAe waistcoats reaching
down to their thighs, buckskin knee-breeelies, red woollen
stockings, heavy shoes with big silver buckles, and long sur-

182

THE D/'JVTL m THE niJLhltY.

tout coats witJi \\iv\iv hiittous of iiiollicr-of-poail. Erinli, tao,
lias a pijjp in liis moiitli, and a liU.lt; clinnp_, watcliiu liis rkjlit
band. Ho takes a \i\\.\\ and a look, au(l thon ii look and
a ])iitr. Tlu; pi,^' — which is corpidfnit jiiid la/,y— in ocou-
pied now in lucking- up the stray leaves that I'all from the cab-
baj^'es, ■:. id now in jJti^'i"ff ^ \dv\i behind at Iho gilt repeater,
which the lu'chius have also tied to /(/« tail, in order to ninko
Lini look as liandsome as the cat.

llip^ht at the front door, in a hif^h-baclvcd, leather-bottomed,
armed chair, will) crooked lej^s and puppy feet like tlio
tables, is seated the old man of the housr liiinself. lie is an
excecdiuf?ly puJly little old genilenian, -w Mi bi<jf circular eyes
and a huge doui)le chin. His dress I'cseinbles tiiat of tho
boys — and I need say iiotliinj,' further about it. All the dif-
ference is, that his pipe is somewhat bi;^','^'er than theirs, and
he can make a f^realer smoke. Like Uicm, ho hiis a watch,
but he carries his Avatcli in his poclu't. To say tho truth, he
has sometliinpf of more importance than a watch to attend to —
and what tliat is, I s1i:ill presently explain. Ho sits with his
right leg upon his left knee, wears a grave coutitenance, and
always keeps one; oF his eyes, at least, resolutely bent upon a
certain remarkable oliject in tho centre of the plain.

This ol)ject is situated in the steei)lo of the House of the
Town Council. The Town Council are ail very little, round,
oily, intelligent men, with big saucer eyes and fat double
chins, and havt» their coats much longer and their shoe-
buckles much bigger than the (n-dinary inhabitants of Vou-
dervotteimittiss. Si' ce my sojourn in the borough, they have
had sf^veral sjx'cirJ meetings, and have adopted these three
imjjortant resolutions : —

'' That it is wrong to alter the good old course of things : "

"That there is nothing tolerable out of Vondervotteiniit-
tiss : " and —

" That we will stick by our clocks and our cabbages."

Above the session-room of the Council is the steeple, and in
the steeple is tho belfry, where exists, and has existed time
out of mind, tho pride and wonder of the village — the great
clock of the borough of Vond(;rvotteimittiss. And this is the
object to which the eyes of tho old gentlemen are turned who
•sit in the leather-bottomed arm-chairs.

The great clock has seven faces — one in each of tho seven
sides of the steephis — so that it can be readily seen from all
quarters. Its faces are large and white, and its hands heavj

THE hKVll. IN THE imLERY.

18:]

nnd blnrlc. Tlioro is n, bolfry-iimn whoso sole diif.y is fo ntirnd
to ii ; l)iit, tliis (Inly ih tJio most perfoft of sinecures — t'ov tlio
eloek ol' VondorvottoiiiiitiisH was never yet. known to Iiuvo any-
diinj,' the matter Vvitli it. Until lately, the baro supposition
of sueh a iliini^ was eonsidei'ed heretical. From tlio remotest
period of antiquity to which tlie archives have reference, tho
liours have been rcgularlj' struck by the big bell. And, in-
deed, Ihe case was just the same with all the other clocks and
AViitches in tlus borough. Never was su(;h a place for keeping
llie true tunc. When the lar;^e cla2)per thought pro2)er to say
"Twelve o'clfx'k ! " all its ol)edient followers opened their
throats Hinniltaneonsly, and responded lil;o a very echo. In
short, the good burj^diers wore fond of their sauer-kraut, but
tlien they were proud of their clocks.

All ])coplo who hold i-.inecuro ollices are held in men-o or less
respect, and as tho 1)elfry-man of Yondervotteimittiss has tlio
most perfect of sinecures, he is the most perfecstly respected
of any man in the world. He is the chief dignitary of the
borough, and tho very pigs look uj) to him with a sentiment
of reverence. His coat-tail is verij far longer — his pipe, his
slioe-buckles, his eyes, and his stomach, f'r// far bigger — than
those of any otlier old genih^man in tho village ; and as to his
chin, it is not only double, but triple.

I have thus painted the happy estate of Vondervotttinjittiss ;
alas, that so fair a picture should ever experience a reverse !

There has been long a saying among the wisest inhabitants,
that "no good can come IVoni over the hills ;" and it really
rseemcd that the wcu'ds had in them something of the sj^irit of
j)rophocy. It wanted iive minutes of noon, on the d'ly before
yesterday, when thei-o appeared a very odd-looking object on
t.he summit of tho ridge to tho eastward. Such an occurrence,
of course, attracted iniiversal attention, and every little old
gentlrman who sat in a leather-bottomed arm-chair, turned
one of his eyes v.ith a stare of d'sniay upon the phenomenon,
fcitill keeping the other upon the clock in the steeple.

liy the time that it wanted only three minutes to noon, the
droll object in (piestion was porcc ivcd to bo a very diminutive,
foreign-looking young man. He descended the hills at a
great rate, so that everybody had soon a got>d look at him.
He was really the most tlnnicky little ))ersonage that had ever
been seen in Vondervotteimitliss. His countenance was of a
dark snuff-color, and he had a long, hooked nose, pea eyes, a
wide mouth, and an excellent set of teeth, which latter he

184

THE DEVIL TN THE HE I. FRY.

seemed anxious pf disjilaying, as he wan .'.rrinning from ear to
ear. Vslti^i with mustachioH and whiskers, tlmro was none of
the rest of his fa'-e to ])e seen. His liead was uncovered, and
his Lair neatly done up in papKlo/rx. His dress was a tif^ht-
fittinfT swiillow-failod blaclf coat (from oik- of wliose pockets
dangled a vtist lcn<(tii of whiiP luindkerclii<f/, black kersry-
mere knee-ln'oeches, black stockmj^'s, and stuTui)y-lookin,i:;
pumps, with luiE^e bunches of black satin ril)b()n for bows.
Under one arm ho cnn-ied a liuge chapciH-de-bnui, and under
the other a fiddle nearly tive times as big as himself. In his
left hand wiis a g' ' snufi'-box, frnm which, as he capered
down the hill, cutting all manner of fantastical stfps, he took
snuff incessantly, with an air of the gi'eatest possible stlf-sat-
isfaotion. CJod bless nie ! — here was a sight for the honest
burghers of Vondervotteimittiss !

To speak plainly, the fcdlow had, in sjtite of his grinnincr, an
audacious and sinister kintlof face ; and as he curvetted right
into the village, the oild stumpy api)earar,ce of his pumps ex-
cited no little suspici(m ; and many a])urghcr who beheld him
that day woidd have given a trifle for a peep laneath tho
white cambricr handkerchief \Nhicli hung S'> olitrusively from
the pocket of his swallow-tailed cc»at. Cut what mainly occa-
sioiied a rigliteOiis indignation was, that tlic scroundrclly pop-
injay, while he cut a fandango here, and a whirligig there, did
not seem to have the remotest idea in tl;e world of such a
thing as keeping lime in his steps.

The good people of the borough liad scarcely a chance, how-
ever, to get their eyes Ihorouglily open, when, just as it wanted
hall a minute of noon, the rascal liounced, as I say, right into
the midst of them ; gave a cJiasiicz here, and a hainwez there ;
and then, after npiroucl'e and a pux-de zi-ph^/r. ijigeon-wiiig'.Hl
himself right up into the beltW of the House of the To\\n-
Couiicil, where the wonder-stricken bt'ltVy-man sat smoking in
a state of dignity and disnjay. But the little chap seized liiui
at once by the nose ; gave it a swing and a pull ; cliijjped tho
big vhapca'i-'ir.-hrai^ upon his head ; knocked it down over his
eyes and nioutli ; and th'-u, lifting u]» t'le big liddle, beat him
with it so long' and so soundly, that with tho behVy-man being
so fat, and the tiddle <)eingf so liollov,-, you would have sworn
that there wasartigimentof doubh;-ba,~.s drummers all beating
the devil's tattoo up in the belfi7/ of tho steeple of V^oiidorvot-
teimittiss-

Tiiert) ici no kno'tviiig to what desperate act of vengeance thi*^

■

THE DEVIL m THE BELFRY.

185

Eiglit !

Aidit !

Nine !
Noiu !

uiii)riiiniplecl attack might liave avouseJ tlie iuhabiiants, but
for the important fact tiiat it now wauted only haU' a Hecoiid
of uoou. The bell was about to stril-"?, and it vv^as a matter of
absolute and pre-eminent necessity thai eveiybody should look
Will at his watch. It was evid it, howevei", tliat just at this
moment, the fellow in the i-:teepk was doing souiethiug that
he had no business to do vyith the clock. But us it now began
to strike, nobo'ly had an}' time to attend to his mrmcjeuvies, lor
they had all to eomit the strokes of the bell as it sounded.

" One ! " said the clock.

" Von ! " echoed every little old gentleman hi every leather-
bottomed arm-chair in Vondervotteimittiss. " Von ! " siiid his
watch also ; " von ! ' said the watch of his vrov/, xiid " von ! "
said the watches of the boys, and the little gilt repeaters on
tilt' tails of the cat and })ig.

*' Two ! " continued tlu; big l.»ell ; and

" Doo ! " repeated all the repeaters.

" Three ! Four ! Five ! Six ! Heveu !
Ten ! " said the bell.

"Dree! Vour ! Fibc ! Sax! Sebeu !
Den ! " answered the otliers

" Eleven ! " said the l)ig one.

" Eleben ! " assented the little fellows.

" Twelve :•' said the bell.

" Dvelf ! " they replied, perfectly satisfied,
their voices.

"Und dvelf it isH I " said all the little old gentlemen
tiiig up their watches. But the
them yet.

''Thirteen!" said he.

"Df'.' Teufel ! "' gasjjed the little old gentlemen, turnhig
pale, (b-opping their pipes, and putting down all theii- right
legs from over their left knees.

'• Der Teufel ! " gi ( >aned they, " Dirteen ! Dirteen ! !— Mcin
Gott, it is Dirteen o'clock ! ! "

Why attempt to de.-ioribe the terrible scene which ensued ?
All Voudervotteiniittiss dew at once into a lamentable state of
uproar.

" Vol is cum'd to mein pelly ? " roared all the boys. " I'vo
been ongry for dis hour 1 "

" Vot is cum'd to mein kraut? " screamed all the vrows. " It
has been done to rags for dis hour ! "'

" Vot is cum'd to mein pipe"'' " sworo all the httle old geu*

and dropping

put-

big bell had not done with

38G

TUB DEVIL IN THE BELFRY.

tlemen, " Bonder and Blitzen ! it has been smoked out for dia
liour ! " — and they tilled them up again in a great rage, and,
sinking back in their arm-cliaiis. puiVed a-way so fast and so
fiercely that the whole valley was immediately tilled with im-
penetrable smoke.

Meantime the cabbages all turned very red in the face, and
it seemed as if old Nick himself had taken possession of evovy-
thing in the shape of a tunepiece. The clocks (;nrved upon
the fui'niture took to dancing as if bewitched, v.hilo those upon
the mantlepieces could scarcely contain themselves for fury,
and kept such a continual striking of thirteen, and such ii
frisldng and wriggling of their pendidums as was really lior-
rible to see. But, worse tiiiui all, mithcr the cats iku' tlie pigs
could put up any longer with the l)ehavior of the little repeat-
ers tied to their tails, and resented it by sciuiiperiiig all over
the place, scratching and poking, and sciueaking and screech-
ing, and caterwauling and S(]ualling, and living into the faces,
and iTJuning under the petticoats of tlie pc()])le, and creating"
altogether the most abominable din and confusion which it is
possible for a rcabonal)le person to conceive. And to make
matters still more distressing, the ras("ally little scape-grace in
the steeple was evidently extrting himself to the utmost.
Every now and then one might catch a glimpse of the scoun-
drel through the smoke. Tliere he sat iu the belfry upon the
belfrj'-man, who was lymg flat iipon his back. In his teelh
the villain held the bell-rope, which he kept jerking about
with his head, raising such a clatter that my ears ring again
even to think of it. On his lap lay the big fiddle at which he
was scraping out of all time and tune, with both hands, mak-
ing a great show, the nincompoop ! of playing "Judy O'Flau-
nagan and Paddy O'Raferty."'

Atiairs being thus miserably situated, I left the place in
disgust, and now appeal for aid to all lovers of correct time
and fine kraut. Let us proceed in a body to the borough,
and restore the ancient order of things in Voudu'votteimittisii
by ejectiug tliut little fellow fi'om the sitecple.

for (lis
2, and,
md so
til im-

:?e, aud
evory-
l upon
:o upon
r fnry,
sucli a
1y lior-
lio pigH
repeat-
ill over
creecli-
faces,
reatiii<>'
Lch it in
) lualvG
^iwe ill

LltlilOSt.

: scoun-
pou the
is tee 111
f about
;o-agaiii
liicli lie
Is, nialc-
O'Flau-

plaeo in
Bct tiino
lorougli,
:;iinitUsii