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32X

ROBERTSON'S CHJE^P SEJ^IES

POPULAR READING AT POPULAR PRICES.

MILLBANK ;

OR,

ROGER IRVING'S WARD

MRR. MARY J. HOLMES.

Author ot' Tempewt^and Sunshine— 'Lena JRivers— etc., etc.

COMPLETE.

Toronto :
J. Ross RoBKBrso:f, G7 Yonoe Streei'.
18''8.

MILL15ANK ; OR, ROGER IRVINGS WARD.

CHAPTKR I.

EXPECTING ROOER.

Every window and shutter at Millbank
wa* closefi. Knots of crape were streaminj^
from the bell-knobs, and all around the h mse
there was that deep hush which only ti»e
presence of death can inspire. Indoors there
was a kind of twilight gloom pervading the
rooms, and the servants spoke in whispers
whenever they canranear the chamber where
the old squire lay in his handsome cothi,
awaiting the arrival of Roger, who ha 1 been
n St. Louis wiien his fatlier died, and who
was expected home on the night when our
story ofiens. Squire Irving had died sudden-
ly in the act of writing to his boy Roger,
and when fouml by old Aleck, his hand
was grasping the pen, ami his head was rest-
ing on the letter he would never finish.
" Heart disease'' was the verdict of the in-
que3t,and then the electric wires carried tlie
news of his decease to Roger, and to the
willow of tlie squire's eldest son, who lived
on Lexiug'voa Avenue, New York, and wh<»
always called herself Mrs. Walter Scott
Irving, fancying tliat in someway the united
names of two so illustrious authors as Irving
and Scott shed a kind of literary halo upon
one who bore them.

Mrs. Walter Scott Irving had been break-
fasting in her back parlour when the news
came to her of her father-indaw's sudden
deith, and to say that she was both aston-
ished and shocked, is only to do her justice,
but to insinuate that she was sorry, is quite
another thing. Sne was not sorry, though
her smooth white brow contracted into
wrinkles, and she tried to speak very sadly
and sorrowfully as she said to her son Frank,
a boy of nine or more, —

" Frank, your grautlfather is dead ; poor
man, you'll never see him again."

Frank tvaa sorry. The happiest days of
his life had been spent at Millbank. He
liked the house, and the handsome grounds,
with the grand old woods in the rear, and
the river beyond, where in a little sheltered
nook lay moored the boat he called his own.
He liked the spotted pony which he always
rode. He liked the freedom from restraint
which he fouud in the country, and he liked

the old man who wan so kind to him, and
who petted him sometimes when Roger was
not by. Roger had been absent on the oc-
casion of Frank's last visit to Millbank, and
his grandfather had taken more than usual
notice of him, — had asked him many ques-
tions as to what he meant to Ue when he
grew to manhood, and what he would do,
supposing he should some day be worth a
great deal of money. \Vould he keep it, or
would he spend it as fast and as foolishly as
his father had spent the portion allotted to
him ?

" You'd keep it, wouldn't you, and ]mt
it at interest ?" his mother had said, laying
her hand upon hish.air with a motion which
she meant should convey some euggestionor
idea to his mind.

Hut Frank had few ideas of his own. He
never took hints or suggestions, and boy-like
he answered :

" I'd bu}' a lot of horses, and Roger and
me would set up a circus out in the park."

It was an unluckj' answer, for the love of
fast horses had been the ruin of Frank's

mention
softening
thought

of Roger

the old

of Roger

be generous with

father, but the

Went far toward

man. Frank had

at once ; he would

him, let what would happen, and the frown

whicii the mention of horses had brought to

the squire's face cleared away as he said :

'• Hang your horses, boy; keep clear of
them aj you would shun the small-pox, but
be fair antl just with Roger; Poor Roger, I
doubt if I did right. "

This speech had been followed by the
s(pure's going hastily out upon i.the'^terrace,
where, with his hands behind him and iiis
head bent forward, he had walked for more
than an hour, while Mrs. Walter Scott peer-
ed anxiously at him from time to time, and
seemed a good deal disturbed. They had re-
turned to the city the next day, and Frank
had noticed some changes in their style of
living. Another servant was added to 1 heir
establishment ; they had more dishes at
dinner, while his mother went ofte ler totie
opera and Stewart's. Now, his grandfather
was dead, and she sat there looking at him
across the table a^ the tears gathered in his
eyes, and when he stammered out, " W

MILLBANK ; OR,

shall never go to Millbank any more," she
said soothingly to him, " We may live there
altogether. Would you like it ?"

He did not comprehend her clearly, but
ttie thought that his gi-andfatlier'a death did
not neceanarily mean banishment from Mill-
bank helped to dry his eyes, aiul he began
to whistle merrily at tlie prospect .)f going
there at once, for they were to start that
very day on the three o'clock train. '* It
was better to be on tlie ground as soon
as possible," Mrs. Walter Scott leHect-
ed, and after a visit to her dressmaker, who
promised that the deepest of mourning suits
should fol'ow her, she started with Frank
for Milll)ank.

Mrr. W'alttJr Scott Irving had never been
a favourite at Millbank since her liusbaiid
had taken her there as a bride, and she had
^iveii mortal offence to the two real lieaila of
the household, Aleck and Hester Kloyd, by
puttiu'^ on all so'ts of airs, siiubl)ing little
Roger, and speaking of his mother as " tiiat
low creature, whose disgraceful conduct
could never be excused," Hester Floyd, to
whom this was said, could have forgiven the
airs ; indeed, she rather looked upou tliem
as belonging by right to one who was so for-
tunate as to marry into the Irving family.
But when it came to sliglitini.' little Roger
for his mother's error, and to speaking of
that mother as a "low creature," Hester's
hot blood was roused, and there commenced
at once a ouiet, unspoken warfare, which
had never ceased, between herself and the
offending Mrs. Walter Scott. Hester was
as much a part of Millbank as the stately
old trees in the park, a few of which she hatl
helped Aleck to plant when she was a j^irlof
eighteen and he a boy of twenty. She had
lived at Milli)ank more than thirty years.
She had come there when the first Mrs. Ir-
ving was a bride. She had carried Walter
Scott to be christened. Sl.e had been his
nurse, and slapped liim with her shoe a dozen
times. She had been married to AlecR in
her mistress's dining-room. She had seen
the <dd house torn down, and a much larger,
handsomer one built in its place; and then,
after it was completed, she had followed her
mistress to the grave, and shut up the beau-
tiful rooms which were no longer of any use.
Two years passed, and then her master elec-
trified her one day with the news that he
was about l)ringing a second bride to Mill-
bank, a girl younger than his son Waller,
and against whom Hester set herself fiercely
as against an usurper of her rights. But
when the sweet, pale-faced Jtssie Morton
came, with her great, sud blue eyes, and her
curls af golilen hair, Hester's resentment be-
gan to give way, for she could not harbour
malice toward a creature so lovely, so

gentle, and sad withall ; and after an in-
terview in the bedchamber, when poorJes*
sie threw herself with a passionate cry into
Hester's arms, and sobbed piteously, "Be
kind to me, won't you ! Be my friend. I
have none in all the world, or 1 should not
be here. I tlid not want to come," — she be-
came her strongebt ally, and proved that
Jessie's confidence had not been misplaced.
There had ome a dark, dark day for Mill-
bank since then, and .lessic's picture, paint-
ud in full dress, with pearls on her beautiful
neck and arms, and in her g(dden hair, had
been ta)ien from the parlour-wall and ban-
ished to the garret ; and Jessie's name was
never npoken by tlie master, either to his
servants or his little boy Roger, who had a
dash of gold in his brown hair, and a look in
his dark-blue eyes like that which Jessie's
used to wear, when, in the long evenings'be-
foreliis birtli, she sat with folded hands gazing
into the blazing fire, as if trying to solve the
dark mystery of her life, and know why her
lot iiad been cast there at Millbank with the
old man, whom she did not hate, but whom
she couhl not love. There was a niuht, too,
which Hester never forgot, — a night when,
with nervous agony depicted in every linea-
ment, Jessie made her swear that, come
wiiat might, she would never desert or
cease to love the boy Roger, sleeping so
•luietly in his little crib. She was to care
for him as if he were her own ; to consider
his interest before that of any other, and
bring him up a good and noble man. That
was what Jessie asked, and Hester swore to
do ; and then followed swiftly terror and
darkness and disgrace, and close upon their
footsteps came retribution, and Jessie's gol-
den head was lying far beneath the sea off
Hatteras's storm-beaten shore, and Jessie's
n:ui e was rarely heard. But Hester kept
her vow, and since the dreadful morning
when Jessie did not answer to the breakfast
call, and Jessie's room was vacant, Roger had
never wanted for a mother's care. Hester
had no children of her own, and she took him
instead, petting and caring for, and scolding
him as he deserved, and through all, loving
him with a brooding, clinging, unselfish
love, which would stop at nothing which she
could make herself believe was right for her
to do in his behalf. And so, when the young
bridelooked coldly upon him and spoke slight-
ingly of his mother, Hester declared battle at
once ; and the hatchet had never been
buried, fi.r Mrs, WaI.er Scott, in her fre-
quent visits to Millbank, had only deepened
Hester's first impressions of her.

" A proud, stuck-up person, with no kind
of reason for bein' so except that she mar-
ried one of the Irvingses," was what Hcster
said of her, and this opinion was warmly

ROGER IRVINO'd WARD.

•econded by Aleck, who always thought just
M Het'ter did.

Had she been Eve, and he her Adam, he
would have eaten the forbidden fruit with-
out a question as to his right to do so, just
because she gave it to him ; but, unlike
Adam, he would not have ehargel the fault
to her ; he would have taken it upon him-
self, as if the idea and the act had been his
alone.

For Frank there was more toleration at
Millbank, " He was not very bright," Hes-
ter said ; " but how could he be with suoli
a mother ? Little pimpiii,' spindlin', while-
haired critter, there wasn't half so much snap
to him as tiiere was to Roger."

In this condition of things it was hardly
to be supposed that Mrs. Walter Scott's
reception at Millbank was very cordial,
when, on the evenin^i; of the scjuire's death,
the vilLige hack deposited her at the door.
Mrs. Walter Scott did not like a depot hack,
it brought her so much on a level with com-
mon people ; and her first words to Hester
were :

"Why wasn't the carriage sent for us?
Weren't wo expected ?"

There was an added air of importance in
her manner, and she spoke like one whose
right it was to command there ; and Hester
detected it at once. But in her manner
there was, if possible, less of deference than
she had usually paid to the great lady,

" Aleck had the neurology, and we didn't
know jestly when you'd come,'^ was her re-
ply, as she led the way to the chamber which
Mrs. Walter Scott had been accustomed to
occupy during her visits to Millbank.

" 1 think I'll have a ti»-e, the night is so
chilly," the lady said, with a shiver, as she
glanced at the empty grate. " And, Hes-
ter, you may send my tea after the tire is
made. I have a headache, and am too tired
to go down. '

There .was in all she said a tone and air
which seemed to imply that she was nowtho
mistress ; and, in truth, Mrs. Waiter Scott
did so consider herself, or rather, as a kind
of queen regent, who, for as many years as
m 'st elapse ere Frank became of age, would
reign supreme at Millbank. And after the
fire was lij^hted in her room, and her cup
of tea was brought to her, with toast, and
jellj^and coldchickeu, she was thinking more
of the changes she would make in the old
place than of the white, motionless figure
which lay, just across the hall, in a room
much like her own. She had not seen tliis
ligure yet. She did not wish to carry the
image of death to her .pillow, and so she
waited till morning, when, after breakfast
was over, she went with Hester to the dark-
enedSroom, and with her handkerchief osten-

sibly pressed to her eyes, but really held to
her nose, she stood a momeat by the dead,
and ■ ghed r

" Poor, ilear old man ! How sudden it
was ■, and what a lesson it should teach us
all of the mutability of life, for in an hour
when we think not, death comcth upon us I"

Mrs. Walter Scott felt that Lome such
speech was due from her — something which
savoured of piety, and which might pof»
sibly do good to the an^ular.squarc-shoulderg
ed, tlat-waisted woman at her side, who
understood what jniit<ilillif;f meant (juite as
well as she would have understood so much
Hebrew. But she knew the lady was '• put-
ting on ;" that, in her heart, she was glad
the "poor old man" was dead ; and with a
jerk she drew the covering over the pinched
white face, dropped the curtain which had
been raised to admit the light, and theD
opened the door and stood waiting for the
lady to pass out.

" I shall dismiss that woman the very first
good opportunity. She has been here too
long to come quietly under a new adminis*
tration," Mrs. Walter Scott thought, as she
went 8h>wly down the stairs, and through
the lower rooms, deciding, at a glance, that
this piece of furniture should be banished to
the garret, and that piece transferred to
some more suitable place. "The old man
has lived here alone so long, that everything
b"ars the unmistakable stamp of a bachelor's
hall ; but I shall soon remedy that. I'll
have a man from the city whose taste I can
trust," she said ; by which it will be seen
that Mrs. Walter Scott fully expected to
reign triumphant at Millbank, without a
thought or consideration for Roger, the dead
man's idol, who, according to all natural
laws, had a far better right there than her-
self.

She had never fancied Roger, because she
felt that throut;h him her husband would
lose a part of his father's fortune, and as he
grew ol(ler,anil she saw how superior he was
to Frank, she disliked him more and more,
though she tried to conceal her dislike from
her liusljand, who, during his lifetime,
evinced almost as much affection for his
young half-brother as for his own son.
Walter Scott Irving had been a spendthrift,
and the fifty thousand dollars which his
father gave him at his marriage had melted
awpy like dew in the moining sun, until he
had barely enough to subsist upon. Then
ten thousatul more had been given him, with
the understanding that this was all he was
ever to receive. The rest was for Roger,
the father said ; and Walter acc^uiesced, and
admitted that it was right. He had had his
education with sixty thousand beside, and
he could not ask for more. A few weeks

MIIXPANK ; OH

after this ho died nufldenly of a prevailiin,'
fevor, ftixl then, softened l)y his son's death,
the old muii ndded to t)io ten thounand and
boui;ht the house on F,exiiigton-.iverine, and
deeded it to Mrs. Walter Scott hernelf.
Since tlmt time fortunate R]icoulation<) had
made Squim Irving' a rioht r man than he
was hefore the first ^ift to hi» Hon, and Mrs.
Wnltcr S(!otfc had naturally tliought it very
hard that Frank waH not to share in tliis in-
ereane of wealtli. Hiil no mieh thoughts
were trouhlinn her now, and her face wore
a very Hatisti(!il look of reMiynation and »uh-
mission as slie moved lanijuiiily around tho
house and (grounds in the morning, ami th<-n
in the afternoon drcHHcd lierself in hi'V
heavy, training silk, and tiirowing around
her graceful HJiouhlera a scarlet shawl, went
down to receive the calls and condolences of
the rector's wife and Mrs. Colonel .lohnson,
who came in to see her. She did not tell
them «he expected to ho their neighbour a
portion of tlie year, and when thiy spoke of
Roger, she lnoked very sorry, and sighed :
" I'oor hoy, it will he a great shock to him."

Then, when the ladies suggested that he
would iimloulitfMlly have a great deal of ]>ro-
perty left to him, and who his gimrdian
would he, she said " she did not know.
Lawyer Sclioticld perhaj)s,as ho had done the
most of Sijuirt! Irving's business."

" Mut Lawyer Scliotield is dead. Ho dieil
thrtM! weeks ago," the ladies sai<l ; and Mrs.
Walter Scott's cheek for a moment turned
])alo as she expressed her surprise at the
news, and wondered she had not heard of it.

Then the conversation drifted back to
Roger, who was expected the next night, and
for whom the funeral was delayed.

"I always liked Roger," Mrs. Johnson
said ; " ancl I must say I loved his mother,
in spite of her faults. She was a lovely crea-
ture, and it seems a thousand pities that she
should have married so old a man as S((uire
Irving when she loved another so mnch."

Mrs, Walter Scott said it was a pity, —
aaid she always disapproved of unequal
matches, — said she had not the honour of the
lady's acquaintance, and then bowed her
visitors out with her loftiest air, and went
back to the parlour, and wondered what peo-
ple would say when they knew what she did.
She would be very kind to Roger, she
thought. Her standing in Belvidere depend-
ed upon that, and he should have a home at
Millbank until he was of age, when, with
the legacy left to him, he could do very well
for himself. She wished the servants did
not think quite so much of him .as they did,
especially Aleck and Hester Floyd, who
talked of nothing except that ** Master
Roger was coming to-morrow. " Her mourn-
ing was coming, too ; and when the next day

it oame, she arrayed herself in tho heavy
bombazine, with the white crape band at the
throat and wrists, which revealed the som-
brenesH of her attire. She was drcssin.: for
Roger, »ho said, thinking it bitttr to «vinoo
some interest in an event which was occupy-
inn HO mindi of the servants' tluughts.

The day was a damp, chilly one in mid-
.April, ao'l HO a tire was kimiled in lloger's
room, and tlowers were put there, and tho
etisytiliair from the Inill lil)rary ; and Hester
\Nent in and out and ni ranged and re-iirrang-
oil the furniture, nud then llilted to tho
kitclien, where the pies and puddings which
|{ot;er loved were bakin.', and where .feruah,
or*'Ruey," assliev»as called, was beating
the eggs for lloijoi's favourite cake. He
would he there about nine o'clock, siie knew,
for she had received a telegram from .Vll)any,
saying, "Shall be home at nine. Meet no
at the depr)t without fail."

In a great lluiry Hester read the des.
patch. Wondering wiiy she was to meet him
without fail, and firuiUy deciding that the
allectionate boy could not wait till he reach-
ed home before p.iuriiig cut his tears and
grief on her motherly bosom.

" Poor child ! I presume lie'll cry tit *o
i)ust wiicn he sees me," she said to Mrs.
Walter Scott, wlio looked with a kind of
scorn U])on the preparations for the supposed
heir of Millbank.

"The night set iu with a driving rain, and
tho wind n'loaned dismally as it swcjit past
the house where tho dead resteil so (inii^tly,
and where the living were so busy and excit-
c<l. .\t half ])ast eight the carriage came
round, and Aleck in his waterproof coat held
the und)rella over Hester's head as she walk-
ed to the carriage, with one shawl wrapped
around her and another on her arm. Why
she took that second shawl she did not then
know, liut afterwards in recounting the i)ar-
ticulars of that night's adventures, she .«aid
it was just a spc ial Providence and nothing
else which put it into hor head to tak<^ an
extra shawl, and that a big warm one. Half
an hour passed, and then above the storm
Mrs. Walter Scott heard the whistle which
announced the arrival of the train. Then
twenty minutes went by, and Frank, who
was watching by the window, screamed
out :

"They are coming, mother. 1 see the
lights of the carriage. "

If it had not been raining, Mrs. Walter
Scott woulil have gone to the door, but the
damp air was sure to take the curl from her
hair, and Mrs. Walter Scott thought a great
deal of the heavy ringlets which fell about
her face by day and were tightly rolled in
papers at night. So she only went as far as
the parlour door, where she stood holdin

ROGER IRVINOS WARD.

tho heavy
mini at the
1 tho soni'
rcHsiiii,' for
r to «viiu'o

flH ncJillpy-

(hts.

in in mu\-

in l!n,','er's

rv, Hii(i tlio

mil Hester

ro-iirranj;.

;e(l to the

iiijiR wliicU

•ri- .It rmili,

as hi'atin,,'

!al\i\ Ho

sho knew,

in .Vli)niiy,

Moot n.c

I tho des-
> meet him
il; that tho

II ho roaoli-
tears and

cry tit to
il ti' Mrs.
a kind of

B SUJIpOSt'tl

g rain, and

a\vo|)t past

so <|ii::>tly,

ami oxcit-

iaye oanie

f coat held

I slie walk-

1 wrapped

in. \Vhy

not then

g the j)ar-

she said

id nothing

;o tako an

ne. Half

the storm

tie which

in. Then

rank, who

screamed

see

the

8. Walter
, but the
from her
ht a great
ell about
rolled in
as far as
1 hold in

together the t.arf she had thrown around
her shoulders. There aoemed to bo some
delay at tho carriiwje, and tho voices speak-
ing together there were low and excited.

" No, Hester ; she is mine. She shall go;
in the front way," Roger was heard to say •
and a moment after Hester Floyd came hur-
riedly into the hall, holding Romotiiing un.
der her shawl which looked to Mrs. Walter
Scott like a package or roll of cloth.

Following Heater was Frank, who, having
no curls to spoil, had rushed out in the rain
to meet his little uncle, of whom he had
always been so fond.

"Oh, mother, mother!" ho exclaimed
" What do you think Itoger has brought
home ? Something which ho found in the
cars where a wicked woman left it. Oh,
ain't it so funny, — Kogor bringing a baby?"
and having thus thr4?wn tho bomb-shell ut
his mother's foot, Frank darted after Hester,
and poDr Roger was left alone to make his
explanations to his dreidod sister-indaw.

CHAPTER II.

HOUKIIS STOKV. ■ .^_^.__

H<>8ter'8 advent into the kitchen was fol'
lowed by a great commotion, and Ruey for-
cot to pour any water upon tho tea designed
for Roger, but sot *\ni pot upon the hot
stovo, where it soon began to melt with the
heat. Hut neither Hester or Ruey heeded
it, so abaorl)ed were they in the little bundle
which the former had laid upon the table,
and which showed unmistakable signs of
life and vigorous bal)yliood by kicking at the
shawl which enveloped it, and thrusting
out two little fat, dimpled fists, which beat
the air as the child began to scream lustily
and try to free itself from its wrappings,

" The Lord have mercy upon us! what
have you got ? " Ruey exclaimed, while
Hester, with a pale face and compressed lip,
replied :

" A brat that some vile woman in the cirs
asked Roger to hold while she got out at a
station. Of course she didn't go back, and
so, fool-like, he brought it home, because it
was pretty, he said, and ho felt so sorry for
it. I ilways knew he had a soft spot, but
I didn't think it would show itself this
way."

It was the first time Hester had ever
breathed a word of complaint against the boy
Roger, whose kindness of heart and great
fondness for children were proverbial ; and
now, sorry that she had done so, she tried to
make amends by taking the struggling child
from the table and freeing it from the shawl
which she ha 1 carried with her to the depot,
never guessing the purpose to which it
would be applied. It was a very pretty, fat-

faced haby, apparently nine or ten months
old, and tho haxel eyes were bright a« but-
tons, Ruey aaid, her heart warming at onco
toward tho little stranger, at whom Heater
looked askance. There waa a heavy growth
of dark brown hair upon the hea<l, with just
enough curl in it to make it lie in ringaaliout
tho forehead and nock. The ctothea, though
soiled by travelling, were neatly made, ti.d
shoived marks of pains and care ; while
about tho neck wni a tino gold chain, to
which was attached a tiny locket, with tho
ini*^ials " !<. (J." engraved upon it. These
things came out one by one as Hester and
Ruey together examined tho child, which
did not evince tho least fear of them, but
which, when Ruey strokeil his cheek caress-
ingly, looked up in her face with a coaxing,
cooing noise, and stretched its arms toward
her.

" Little darling, " the motherly girl ex-
claimed, taking it at onco from Hester's lap
and hugging it to her bosom. '* I'm so gla«l
it is here, — the house will be aa merry again
with a baby in it."

" Do you think Roger will keep it ? You
must be crazy," Hester said sharply, wlien
Frank, who had divided his time between
tho parlour and kitchen, and who had juit
come from the former, chimed in :

" Yes, ho will,— ho told mother so. Ho
said he always wanted a sister, and he
should keep her, and mother's rowin' him
for it."

T By this it will be seen that the child was
the topic of conversation in the parlour aa
well as kitchen, Mrs. Walter Scott asking
numberless questions, and Roger explaining
as far as was posssible what was to himself
a mystery. A young woman carrying a
baby in her arms, and looking very tired
and frightened, had come into the car at
Cincinati, he said, and asked to sit with
him. She was a pretty, dark-faced woman,
with bright black eyes, which seemed to
look right through one, and which examined
him very sharply. She did not talk much
to him, but appeared to be wrapped in
thoughts which must have been very amus-
ing, aa she would occasionally laugh quietly
to herself and then relapse into an abstract-
ed mood. Roger thought now that sho
seemed a little strange, though at the time
he had no suspicions of her, and was very
kind to the baby, whom she asked him to
hold. He was exceedingly fond of children,
especially little girls, and he took this one
readily, and fed it with candy, with which,
his pockots were always filled. In this way
they travelled until it began to grow dark

and they stopped at , a town fifty miles

or more from Cincinati. Here the woman
asked him to look after her baby c few

MILLBANK; OR,

inon<'>iitfl while mIio wunt into the next cat to
ice a frioiitl.

" If HhM ^ots hungry give her nome milk,"

■he adilod, taking a bottle from the little

basket which she had with hur under the

■vat.

• , ; Without the Hlightost hcoitatiou Hogor

I j j consented to play the part of nuroe to the

{ I : littli! girl, who wuH nlceping at tlu; time, and

whom the mother, if mother Mhe were, had

laid upon the unoccupied Hcal in front.

Jiending close to the round, flushed face, the

woman whispered something ; then, with n

kiss upon th«t lips, as if in benediction, she

■went out, an<l Hoger saw her no more. He

I ' did not notice whether shf went into another

car or left the train entiroly. He only knew

tl|^t a half hour passed and slio <lid not

! , return ; tlien another half hour went by ;

I I and some i)as8engerH claimed one of tlie Hcnts
I occupied by him and his charge. In lifting

the child ho wuke her, but instead of crying,
nhe rubbed her pretty eyes with her little

\ I fints, and then, with a smile, laid her head

' confulingly against his bosom and was i>oon

I ' Blee))ing again. So long as she; rem-iined

quiet, Hoger felt no special uneasiness about
the niotlier's protracted absence, which had
now lengthened into nearly two hours ; but
when at last the child began to cry, and
neither candy, nor milk, nor j)oun(iing on
' the car window, nor liis lead pencil, nor his

jack knife, nor watch hud any efVect upon
iier, ho began to grow very anxious, and to
tlie woman in front, who asked very sharply
"what was the" matter, and what he was
doing with tiiat child alone," he .said, —

"1 am taking care of her while her mother
Bens a frien<l in the next car. I wish she
would come back. She's been gone ever so

The cries were screams by this time, —
loud, passiomtc screams, which indicated
great strength of lungs, and roused up the
drowsy passengers, who began, some of them,
to grumble, while one sui^^csted " pitching
the brat out of the window."

With his face very red, and the perspira-
tion starting out about hit mouth, Koger,
roFe, and tried, by walking up and ilown the
aisle, to hush the little one into quiet. Once
he thouglit of going into the next car in
quest of the missing mother, — then, thinking
to himself that she surely woul 1 return ere
long, he abandoned the idea, and resumed
his seat with the now quiet child. And so
another hour went by, and they were nearly
a hundred miles front the place where the
•woman had left him. Had Roger been older,
a suspicion of foul play would have come to
him long before this ; but the soul of honour
himself, he believed in everybody else, and
not a doubt crossed his mind that anything

was wrong until the woman who had Hrat
spoken to him b<'gan to question him again,
and »sk if it was liis sistL-r he was caring for
so kindly. Then the story come out, and
Koger felt as if smothered when the woman
extdaimed, " VVhy, boy, the child has been
deserted. It is left on your hands. The
m >ther will never come to claim it."

For an instant the car and everything
in it turned dark to jioor Uoger, who
gaspe<l, " You must be mistaken. Shu is
in the next ear, sure. Hold the baby, and
I'll lind her."

There was a moment's hesitancy on the
part of the woman- -a fear lest she, too,might
lie duped ; but anothttr look at the boy's
frank, ingenuous face, reassured her. There
was no evil in those clear, blue eyes which
met hers so imploringly, and she took the
child in her arms while ho went in search of
the missing mother went through the ad*
joining car and the next - peering anxiously
into every face, but not tin<ling tlie one he
sought. Then he came back, and went
through tlie rear car, but all in vain. The
dark-taced woman with the glittering eyes
and strange smile, was gone ! The baby was
deserted and left on Roger's hands. He un-
derstv)od it perfe jtly, and the understanding
seemed suddenly to add years of tliscretiou
and experienc«) to him. Slowly he went
back to the waiting woman, and without a
word took the child from her, and letting
his boyish face drop over it, ho whispered,
" Your mother has abandoned you, little one,
but 1 will care for you."

He was adopting the jioor forsaken child
— was accepting his awkward situation, and
when that was done he reported his success.
Tiiere was an ejaculation of horror and sur-
prise on the woman's part ; a quick rising
up from her seat to " do something," or
" tell somebody" of the terrible tiling which
had transpired ijefore their very eyes. There
was a gre.it excitement now in the car, and
the passengers crowded around the boy, who
told them all he knew, and then to their
suggestions as to ways and means of finding
the unnatural jiarent, quietly replied, " I
shan't try to find her. She could not be
what she ought, and the baby is better with-
out her." ■

" But what can j'ou do with a baby ?"' a
cliorus of voices asked ; and Hoger replied
with the air of twenty-five rather than four-
teen, " I have money. I can see that she is
taken care of."

" The beginning of a very pretty little ro-
man3e," one of the younger ladies said, and
then, as the conductor appeared, he was
pounced upon and the story told him, and
suggestions made that he should stop the
train, or telegraph back, or do something.

ROOER IRVINOa WARD.

lo had tirat
liiiii again,
HH iariiij{ for
no out, and
I tlio woman
Id littH lioen
ifinda. The
it."

I'vorything
KoKcr, who
n. Shu is
e liahy, and

iiicy on the
e, too.inight
t tho hoy's
her. There
oyt'8 which
hu took tho
in searcli of
iigit the ad-
H anxiously
tlio one he
and went
vain. The
ttvring eyes
le baby was
is. He un-
lorstanding
f discretiou
ly he went
1 without a
and letting
whispered,
>u, little one,

-•saken child
iiuttion, and
his success,
ror ond sur-
quick rising
lething," or
thing which
eyes. There
he car, and
he boy, who
en to their
IS of finding
replied, " I
luld not be
better with-

a baby ?' a
iger replied
r than fcur-
! that she is

;ty little ro-
iB said, and
ed, he was
d him, and
Id stop the
>niething.

" What Nhall I Htop tho train f-ir, bikI
whom Khali I t«'l»'K'aph to?" he nuked. "It
in a plain fane of dcMTtion, and the niothrr

in nulennnd mili'n awny frnm by this

time. ThtTc would bi> no hucIi thing aa trac-
ing her. Such thinvt" "r'' of fr«'(ni«'iit occur-
rcnco ; but 1 will nmke all iicceHnary in-
(|uiri«H when 1 go buck to-nmrrow, and will
sec th.tt the cInM im givtn to the proper au-
thorities, who will either get it a place, or
put it in the poor houHe. "

At the mentinn of the poor-houHv, Kogor's
eyen, unually ho mild in their expresHion,
(|.kHhe<l deliuiitly upon the coiKhu^tor.
\Vhilc the crowd around liim had b«'en talk-
ing, a faint doubt as to the practicability of
bin taking the child had eroHHod his mind.
I (in father wan dead, he had hiit education
to get, and Mdllmnk ini^dit perhaps be Hhut
up, or let to Htran^erH for several years to
come. And what then could be done with
Haby ? 'I'lie^e were his Hober seccuid
thoughtH alter his tir.st indignant burnt at
linding the cliiM diHerted, and had sume re-
8pcctul)lc kind-looking woman then otFered
to takt; bin charge from liiH hand<4, lus miijht
have given it up. Hut from the poor-houHc
arran^'ement he rcooiletl in liorror, remember-
ing a Hweet-facctl, blue-eye<l little girl, with
tangled hair and milk-white feet, whom he
had seen sitting in the door r)f the

!)oor-house in Helvidcre. She liad been
ound in a stalde.und Hcnt to tlie alms-house.
Nobody cared for her — nobody but Itoger,
who often fed her with apples ami candy,
and wished there was something better for
her than life in that daik dreary house
among the hills. And it was just such a
life, if not a worse one, that the crufl
conductor would doom the Baby left in his
care.

*' If I can help it. Baby shall never go
to the poor-house," lioger said ; and when
a lady, who admired the spirit of the boy,
asked him, "Ha\e jou a mother?" he an-
swered, " Nn, nor father either, but I have
Hester ;" ami as if that settleil it, he put
the cliiM on the end of the seat fartliest
away from the crowd, which gradually dis-
persed, while the conductor, after itKjuiring
Riiger's name' and aildress, went about bis
business of ci IK cting tickets, and left hm
to himself.

That he ever g^t comfortably from Cleve-
land to Bcluvidere with his rather trouble-
some charge was almost a miracle, and he
would not have done so but for the many
friemlly hands stretched out to help him.
As far as Buffalo, there were those in the car
who knew of the strange incident, and who
watched and encouraged and helped him,
liut after Buffalo was left behind he was
wholly among strangers. Still, a boy travel-

ling w ith a baby could not fail to attract at-
tei;tion, and many intpiirien were made of
him an to thr whys nml wherefores of his
singular poKition. M<- did not think it >i. h-
nary to make very lucid explanations. He
said, " She in my sintnr ; not my own, but
my ado|)ted ninter, whom I am taking
homi> ; " and he bhsNed hix good angel,
whicli enured the child to sleep no much of
the time, as he thun avoided notice and re-
mnrkn which were diHtasteful to him. (k'ca-
sionally,a thought of what llenter might nay
would nnike him a little uncomfortable.
She was the oidy one who could i)OH8ibly
object, — the only one in fact who ha(l aright
to »)tije<'t, — for with the ^reat shock of his
father's death Boger had been made to feel
that he wati now the rightful nnister at Mill-
bank. His proHj)ective inheritance had been
talked of at once in the family of the clergy-
man, who had moved from Belvidere to St.
Louis, an I with whom Boger was |neparing
' for college w hen the news of his loss came to
him.

Mr. Morrison had said to him, "You arc
I rich, my boy. Vou are owner of Millbonk,
j but do not let your wealth become a snare,
jl'ogood with your money, and remember
I that a tenth, at least, belongs by riuht to the
I Lord."

I And amidst the keen pain which ho felt at
j his father's death, Boger hatl thought how
I much good he would do, and how he would
imitate his noble friend and teacher, Mr.
Morri,son, who, from his scanty income,
cheerfully gave more than a tenth, and still
never lacked for food orraiment. That Baby
was sent direct from Heaven to test nis
princij)le8, he made himself believe ; .and by
the time the mountains of MasHachusetts
were reached he began to feci quite compos-
ed, except on the subject of Hester. She did
trouble him a little, and he wished the first
meeting with her was over. With careful
forethoutiht he telegraj)hed for her to meet
him, and then when he paw her, he held the
child to lier at once, and hastily told her a
part of his story, and felt his heart grow-
heavy as lead when he si-w how she shrank
from the little one as if there had been pollu-
tion in its touch

' 1 reckon Mrs. Walter Scutt will ride a
high boss wilt n she knows what you done,"
Hester said, when at last they were in the
carriage and driving toward honje.

At the mention of Mrs. \\'alter Scott,
Boger grew uneasy. He had a drt.-id of his
stylish sister-in-law, with her lofty manner
and air of superioritj-, and he slrank ner-
vously from what she might say.

"O Hester!" he exclaimed. " Is Helen
at Millbank ; and will she put on her Hyfeiit
u-ays ?"

MILLBANK ; OR.

"You neeiln't be afraid of /^c/<'?i Brown.
'Tain't none of her business if you bring a
hundred yount; ones to Millbank," Hester
sai'l, and as she said it she came very near
going over to the enemy, and espousing the
cause of the poor little waif in her arnis", out
of sheer detiance to Mrs. Walter Soo*^t, who
was sure to snuh the stranger, as she had
snubbed Roger before her.

Matters were in this state when the car-
riage Hnally stopped at Millbank, and Hester
insisted upon taking the child tliroiigh the
kitchen door, as tlie way most bortttiiig for
it. But lloi{ur saiilno ; and so it was up the
broad stone steps, and across the wiile piazza,
and inti» tlie handsome hall, that Baby was
carried upon her tirst entrance to Millbank.

CHAPTEfl III.

WHAT THEY 1)1 U AT MILIJJANK.

" Oh ! Roger, this is a very sorry comin'jr
home," Mrn. Waiter .Scott lia'l said when
Roger rir^^t appeared in view ; and taking a
step forward, slio kissed him quite alfeclion-
ateiy, and even ran her white lingers tlirough
his moirtt hair in a pitying kind of way.

Siie CDuld alTijrcl to be gracious to the boy
whom she iiad wrongeil, but when Frank
threw thi' bomh-shcll at in-r fe; t with rogard
to the mysterious l)undle under Hester's
shawl, sill drew bvck quid, I3 , and demanded
of her young brothor-in-law what it meant.
She hioked very grand, and tall, and white
in her mourning roi)ea, and Roger (juaked as
he had never done before in her presence,
and half wished he had left the innocent
baby to the tender mercies of the conductor
and the poor-house. But this was only while
he stood damp and uncomfortable in the
chilly hall, with the cold rain beating in
upon him. The moment he entered the warm
parlour, where the tire was blazinu in the
grate and the light from the wax candles
shone upon tlie familiar furniture, he felt a
sense of comfort and reassurance creeping
over him, and unconscious to himself a feel-
ing of the maff er ciuno with the sense of com-
fort, and made him less afraid of the queen-
ly-looking woman standing by the mantel,
and v.'aitingfor his story. He was at home,
— his own home, — where he had aright to
keep a iuiiiclred deserted children if he
liked. This was what Hester had said in re-
ferring to Mrs. Walter Scott, and it recurred
to Roger n )w vvitl) a deeper meaning than he
had given it at that time. He had a rigiit,
and Mrs Walter Scott, though she might
properly suggest and advise, could not take
that right from him. And the story which
he told her was coloured with this feelinsr of
doing as he tlunight best ; and shrewd Mrs.
Walter Scott detected it at once, and hep

large black eyes had in them a gleam of
scorn not altogether free from pity as she
thought how mistaken he was, and how the
morrow would materially change his views
with regatd to many things?. She had not
seen Roger in nearly a year and a half, and
in that time he had grown taller and stouter
and more manly than the boy of twelve,
whom she remembered in roundabouts. He
wore roundabouts still, and his collar was
turned down and tied with a simple black
ribbon, and he was only fourteen ; but a well-
grown boy for that age, with a curve about
liis lip and a look in his eyes which told
that the man within him was beginning to
develop, and warned her that she had a
stronger foe to deal with than she had anti-
cipated ; so she restrained herself, and was
very calm and lady-like and c(dlected as she
asked him what he proposed doing with the
chdd whom he had so unwisely brought to
Millbank.

Roger hatl some vague idea of a nurse
with a frilled cap, and a nursery with toys
scattered over the Hoor, and a crib with lace
curtains over it, and a baby-head making a
dent in the pillow, and a baby voice cooing
him a welcome when he came in, and a baby-
cart sent from New York, ami a fancy
blanket with it. Indeed. this pleasant picture
of something he had seen in St. Louis, in one
of the handsome houses where he occasion-
ally vi.sited, had more than once presented
itself to his minil as forming a part of the
future, but he would not for the world have
let Mrs. Walter Scott into that sanctuary.
That cold, proud-faced woman confronting
him so calmly had nothing in common with
his ideals, an 1 so he merely rei)lied :

" She can be taken care of without much
trouble. Hester is not too old. She made
me a capital nurse."

It was of no use to reason with him, and
Mrs. Walter Scott did not try. She merely
said :

" It was a very foolish thing to do, and no
one but you would have done it. You will
think better of it after a little, and get the
child ort" your hands. You were greatly
shocked, of course, at the dreadful news ?"

It was the very tirsc allusion anybody had
made to the cause of Roger's being
here. The baby had absorbed every one's
attention, and the dead man upstairs had
been ?or a time forgotten by all save Roger.
He had through all been conscious of a heavy
load of pain, feeling of loss ; and as he drove
up to the house he had looked sadly toward
the windows of the room where he had of-
tenest seen his father. He did not know
that he was there now ; he did not know
where he was ; and when Mrs. Walter Scott
referred to him so abruptly, he answered

W1I
Dii

nol

Yoi

noT

ROGER IRVING'S WARD.

a gleam of
n pity as she
and how the
iige his views
She harl not
! a half, ami
r and stouter
iy of twelve,
ilabouts. He
lis collar was
simple biafilc
1 ; but a well-
i curve about

which told
lie^'inning to
t she had a
she had anti-
self, and was
llected as she
>in;^ with the

brought to

I of a nurse

■y with toys

rib with lace

;id making a

k'oice cooing

, and a baby-

ind a fancy

;»sant picture

Louis, in one

'le occasion-

e presented

part of the

5 world have

sanctuary.

confronting

nimon with

bd :

ithout much
She made

I him, and
She merely

) do, and no
You will
and get tlie
ere greatly
il news ?"
lybody had
er's being
very one's
pstairs had
ave Roger.
J of a heavy
13 he drove
lly toward
he had of-
not know
not know-
alter Scott
answered

with a quivering lip : — " Where is father ?
Did tliey lay him in his own room V"

" Yes, you'll lind him looking very natural
— almost as if he were alive ; but I would
not see him to-night. You are too tired.
You must be hungry, too. You have had
no supper. What can Hester be doing?"

Mrs. Walter !*»cott was in a very kind
mood now, and volunteered to go herself to
the kitchen to see why Roger's supper was
not forthcoming. But in this she was fore-
stalled by Hney, wlio came to say that sup-
per was waiting in the dining-room, whithvir
Roger went, followed by his sister-in-law,
whopoureil'int histejiandspiead him slices of
bread and butter, witli plenty of raspberry
jam. And Roger reli^heil the bread and
jam with a boy's keen appetite, and thought
it was nicer to be at Millbank than in the
poor clergyman's box of a house at St. Louis,
and then, with a great sigh, tliought of tlie
wliite-haired old man who used to welcome
him home and pat tiim so kindly on liis
head and call him " Rou'er-boy."' The white-
haired inan wr.s gone tor ever now, and with
a growing sense of loneliniss and loss, Roger
tinislied liis supper and went to the kitciien,
where Baby lay sleeping upon the settee
which Hester hinl drawn to tlie tire, while
Frank sat on a little stool, keeping watch
over her. He bad indorsed the Hiihy from
he first, and when Hester grullly bade him
"keep out from under foot," he had meekly
brought uj) the stool and seated iiim^eif de-
murely between tlie settee and tlie oven
door, wiiere he w.is entirely out of the way.
Hester still looked very much disturbed
and aggrieved, and when she met Roger on
his way to the kitchen, she passed him with-
out a word ; but the Hester Floyd who, after
a time, went back to the kitchen, was in a
very dilferent mood from the one who had
met Roger a short time before. I'his change
had been wrought by a fesv words ^joken to
her by Mrs. Walter Scott, who sat over the
tire in the dining-room when Hester entered
it, and who began to talk of the Baby which
"that foolish boy had brought home."

" I should su[)pose he would have known
better ; V>ut then, Mrs. Floyd, you must be
aware of the fact that in some things Roger
is rather weak and a little like his mother,
who proved pietty eti'ectually liow vacillating
she was, and how easily intluenced."

Hester's straight, square back grew a trifle
squarer and straighter, and Baby's cause
began to gain ground, for Hester deemed it
a religious duty to oppose whatever Mrs.
Walter Scott approved. So if the lady was
for sending tl<e Baby away from Millbank,
she was for keeping it there. Still she made
no comments, but busied herself with put-
ting away the sugar and cream and pot of

jam, into which Roger had made such ia-
roads.

Seeing her auditor was not disposed to
talk, Mrs. Walter .Scott continued :

" You have more intli»ence with Roger
than any one else, and I trust you will use
that inHuence in the right direction ; for sup-
posing everything were fo arrangetl that he
-ould keep the child at Millbank, the trou-
ble would fall on you, and it is too much to
ask a woman of your age."

Hester was not sensitive on the point of
age, but to have Mrs. Walter Scott speak of
her as if she were in her dotage was more
than she could bear, and she answered
tartly : —

" i am only tictytwo. I reckon I am not
past briiik^in' up a ciiild. I ain't (juite got
softepin' of the brain, and if Master Roger
h.isa mind to keep the poor forsaken critter,
it ain't for tlnm who isn't his betters to go
agin it. The owner of Millbank can do as
he has a mind, and Roger is the master now,
you know."

With this speech Hester whisked out of
the room, casting a glance backward to see
the effect of her jiarting shot on Mrs. Walter
Scott. Perhaps it was the reflection of the
fire or her scarlet shawl whieh cast such a
glow on the lady's white cheek, and perhaps
It was what Hester salt! ; but aside from the
rosy tlush there was no (diange in her coun-
tenance, unless it were an expression of
benevolent pity for people who were so de-
ludeil as Mrs. Floyd and Roger. "Waittill
tomorrow ami you may change your
oninion,'' treinlded on Mrs. Walter Scott's
lips, but to say that would be to betray her
knowledge of what she meant should appear
as great a surprise to herself as to anyone.
So she wrapped her shawl more closely
around her, and leaned back languidly in
her chair, while Hester went up the back
stairs to an old chest tilled with linen, and
retiolent with the faint perfume of sprigs of
lavender and cedar, rose-leaves and gera-
niums, which were scattered promiscuously
among the yellow garments. That chest was
a sacred place to Hester, for it held poor
Jessie's linen, the dainty garments trimuicd
with lace, and tucks and rutiles and puffs,
which the o]<l squire had bidden Hester put
out of his sight, ami which she had folded
away in the big old chest, watering them
with her tears, and kissing the tiny 8lip2)ers
which had been found just where Jessie left
them. T'he remainder of .Jessie's wardrobe
was in the bureau in the stpiire's own room
— the white satin dress and pearls which
she wore in the picture — the expensive veil,
the orange wreath whicn had crowned her
goMeu hair at the bridal, and many other
costly things which the old man had heaped

MJLBANK ; OR,

1 ' i.i

upon his darling, were all there under loek
and key. But Heater kept the oaken chest,
and under Jessie's cl(3the8 were sundry baliy
g.irmentB which Hester had laid away as
mementoes of the happy days when Koger
was a baby, and his beautiful mother the

Sride of Millbank and the belle of Belvi-
ere.

" If that child only stays one niyht, she
must have a nightgown to sleep in," she said,
as with a kind of awe she turned over the
contents of the chest till she came to a pile
of night gowns which Roger had worn.

Selecting the plainest and coarsest of
them all, she closed the chest and went
downstairs to the kitchen, where both the
boys were bending over the settee and t,ilk-
ing to the Baby. There was a softness in
her manner now, something really motherly,
as she took the little one, and began tp un-
dress it, with Roger and Frank looking cu-
riously on.

" Dirty as the rot," was her comment, as
she saw the marks of car- dust and smoke-
cinders on the fat neck and arms and hands.
" She orto have a bath, and she must, too.
Here, Ruey, bring me some warm water,
and fetch the biggest foot-tub, and a piece of
castile soap, and a crash-towel, and you,
boys, go out of hero, both of you. I'll see
that the joungster is taken care of."

Roger knew from the tone of her voice
thrit Baby was safe with her, and he left the
kitchen with liis spirits so much lightened
that he began to hum a popular air he had
heard in the streets in St. Louis.

"Oh, Ro^er, Htngin', with grandpa dead,"
Frank exclaimed ; and then Roger remem-
bered the white, stiffened form upstairs, and
thouglit himself a hardened wretch that he
could for a moment havo so forgotten his
los3 as to sing a negro melodj'.

"I did not mean any disrespect to father,"
he said softly to Frank ; and without going
back to the parlour, he stole up to his own
room, and kneeling by his bt^lside, said the
familiar prayer commencing with " Our
Father," and then cried himself to sleep
with thinking of tlie dead father who could
never speak to him again.

CHAPTER IV.

THE MOKSINti OF THE FUNERAL.

If Frank Irving had been poor, instead of
the grandson of a wealthy man, he would
have made a splendid carpenter, for all his
tastes which were not given to horses ran in
the channel of a mechanic, and numerous
were the frames and boxes and stools which
jjC had fashioned at "lillbank with the set of
^qoIs his grandfather hud bought him. Tiie

tools had been kept at Millbank, for Mrs.
Walter Scott would not have her house on
Lfixington-avenue "lumbered up"; and
with the first dawn of the morning after
Roger's return Frank was busy in devising
what he intended as a cradle for the baby.
He had thought of it the night before, when
he saw it on the settee ; and now, with the
aid of a long, narrow candle-box and a pair
of rockers which he took from an old chair,
he succeeded in fashioning as uncouth a
looking thing as ever a baby was rocked in.

"It's because the sides are so rough," he
saiil, surveying his work with a rueful face;
" I mean to paper it, and maybe the darned
thing will look better."

He knew where there were some bits of
wall paper, and selecting the very gaudiest
piece, with the largest pattern, he fitted it
to the cradle, and then letting Ruey into his
secret, coaxed her to make some paste and
help him put it on. The cradle had this in
its favour, that it would rock as well as a
better one ; and tolerably satisfied with his
work, Frank took it to the kitchen, where it
was received with smothered bursts of laugh-
ter from the servants, who nevertheless com-
mended the boy's ingenuity ; and when the
B iby, nicely dressed in a cotton slip which
Roger used to wear, was brought from Hes-
ter's room and lifted into her new place, she
seemed, with her bright, flashing eyes, and
restless, graceful motions, to cast a kind of
halo around the candle-box, and make it
beautiful just because she was in it. Roger
was delighted, and in his generous heart he
thought how many things he would do for
Frank in return for his kindness to the little
child, crowing, and spattering its hands in
its dish of milk, and laughing aloud as the
V. hite drops fell on Frank's face and hair.
Baby evidently felt at home, and fresh and
neat in her clean dress, she looked even pret-
tier than on the previous night, and made a
very pleasing picture in her papered cradle,
with the two boys on their knees paying her
homage, and feeling no jealousy of eaoh other
because of the attentions the coquettish little
creature lavished equally upon them.

Our story leads us now away from the
candle box to the dining-room, where the
b eakfast was aerVed, and where Mrs. Walter
Scott {)resided in handsome moniing-gowu,
with a beconiing little breakfast-cai', which
concealed the curl-papers not to be taken
out till later in the day, for fear of damage
to the glossy curls from the still damp, rainy
weather. The lady was very gracious to
Roger, and remembering the penchant he had
manifested for raspberry jam, she asked for
the jar, and gave him a larger dish of it than
she did to Frank, and told him he was look-
ing quite rested, and then proceeded to

Ibarik, for Mrs.
ve her house on
sd up"; and

morning after
Lisy in devising
le for the baby,
ht before, when

now, with the
box and a pair
m an old chair,

as uncouth a
was rocked in.

so rough, " he

a rueful face;
ybe the darned

e some bits of
e very gaudiest
rn, he fitted it
I Ruey into his
jonie paste and
lie had this in
:U as well as a
tiefied with his
tchen, where it
mrsts of laugh-
verthelesa com-
and when the
;ton slip which
ught from Hes-
new place, she
ihing eyes, and
cast a kind of
and make it
s in it. Roger
lerous heart he
■ would do for
ess to the little
; its hands in
? alou.l as the
face and hair,
and fresh and
ked even pret-
t, and made a
)apered cradle,
eea paying her
y of eaoh other
)quettish little

I them.

.vay from the
m, where the
•e Mrs. Walter
iiorning.gowu,
ast-oap, which
to be taken
fear of damage

II damp, rainy
y gracious to
'.nchant he had
she asked for
flish of it than

1 he was look-
proceeded to

ROGER IRVING'S WARD.

speak of the arrangements for the funeral,
and asked if they met his approbation.
Roger would acquiesce in whatever she
thought proper, he said ; and he swallowed
his coffee ami jam hastily to force down the
lumps which rose in his throat every time he
remembereil what was to be that afternoon.
The undertakers came in to see that all was
right while he was at breakfast, and after
they were gone Roger went to tlie darkened
chamber for a f?rst look at his dead father.

Hester was with him. She was very ner-
vous this moiiiing, and hardly seemed capa-
ble of anything except keeping close to
Roger. She knew she would not be in the
way, even in the presence of the dead, and
so she followed him, and uncuvered the
white face, and cried herself a little wlien
she saw how passionately Roger wtpt,
and trie I to soothe him, and told him
how much his father had talked of him tiie
last few weeks, and how he had died iu the
very act of wjiting to him.

" The pen was in his hand, right over the
words, ' My dear Roger,' Aleck said, for he
found him, you know ; and on the table lay
another letter, — a soiled, worn letter, which
had been wet with — witM — sea-water — "'

Hester was apeaking with a grt-at effort
now, and Roger was lonkiiiii curiously at her.

" Whose letter was it ?" he asked ; aiul
Hester replied :

"It wan his, — your father's ; and it came
from— /tfr — your mother."

With a low, suppressed scream, Roger
bounded to Hester's side, and, grasping her
shoulder, said vehemently :

" Fn m ntol/ier, Hester, —from mother!
Is she alive, as I have sometimes dreamed 7
Is she ? Tell me, Hester !'

The ooy was greatly excited, and his eyes
were like burning coals aa he eagerly ques-
tioned Hester, who answered, sadly :

" N<», my poor boy ! Your mother is
dead, and the letter was written years ago,
just before tlie boat went' down, 'it our
father must have had it all the wliile,
though I iievj^r k.iew it — till — well, not till
some little while ago, when Mrs ^ alter
Scott was here the last time. I overheard
him telling her about it, and when I found
that yellow, stained paper on the table, I
knew in a minute it was the letter, and I
kept it for >ou, with the one your father
had begun t(» write. Shall I fetch 'em now,
or will you wait till the funeral is over ? 1
guess you better wait. "

This Royer could not do. He knew but
little of his mother's unfortunate life. He
could not rememher her, and all his ideas of
her had been formed from the beautiful pic-
ture in the garret, and what Hester had told
him of her. Ouce, when a boy of eleven, he

I had asked his father what it was about his
mother, and why her picture was hidden

: away in the garret, and his father had an-
swered, sternly :

' " I do not wish ta t Ik about her, my son.
She may not have been as wicked as I at
first supposed, but she disgraced you, and
did me a great wrong."

Anil that was all Roger could gather from
his father ; while Hester and Aleck were
nearly as reticent with regard to the dark
shadow which had fallen on Millbank and
its proud owner.

When, therefore, there was an opportu-
nity of hearing directly from the mysteritms
mother herself, it was not natural for Roger
to wait, even if a dozen funerals had been
in pnlgre^^, and he demanded that Hester
shoulii f)ring him the letters at once.

" Bring them into this rf>om. I would ra-
ther read mother's letter here," he said, and
Hester departed to do his bidding.

She was not absent long, and when she re-
turned she gave into Roger's hands a fresh
sheet of note-paper, which had never been
folded, together with a soiled, stained letter,
which looked as if some parts (jf it might
have coineiu contact with the sea.

"Noliody knows I found this one but
Aleck, and perhaps you better say nothing
about it," Hester suggested, as she passed
liim poor Jessie's letter, and then tamed to
leave the room.

Roger bolted the door after her, for he
would not be disturbed while he read these
messages from the dead, — one from the
erring woman who for years had slept far
ilown iu the ocean depths, and the other
from the man who lay there in his coffin.
He took his f-ither's first, but that was a
mere nothing. It only read :

" Millbank, April — .
" My Deak Boy,— For many days I have hud
a presentiment that I fiave not mucli j'o.iKer to
live, and aa death begins to stare me m the
fane, my thoughts turn toward you, my dear
Roger "

Here came a great blot, as if the ink had
dropped from the pen or the pen had dropped
from the hand ; the writing ceased, and that
was all there was for the boy from his father.
But it showed that he had been last in the
thoughts of the dead man, and his tears fell
fast upon his fathers farewell words. Then,
reverently, carefully, gently, as if it were
some sea-wreckeil spectre he was handling,
he took the other letter, experiencing a kiml
of chilly sensation as he opened it, and in-
haled the musty odour pervading it. The
letter was mailed iu New York, and the
superscription was not like the delicate
writing inside. It was a man's chirogra-
phy, — a bold, dashing hand, —and for a mo-

TMILLBANK; OR,

I 1

ii!

11 '

meat R)ger sat studying the explicit di-
rectioa :

"William H. Irving, Esq.,
"(Millbank)

"Belvidere,

"Con."
Whose wp*'*nor was it, and how came
the letter to be mailed iii New York, if,
as Hester had said, it had been written on
board the ill-fated "Sea-Gull"? Ro^,er
asked himself the question, as he lingered
over the unread letter, till, remembering
that the inside was the jjlace to look for
an explanation, he turned to the Hrst page
and began to read. It was dated oti buard
the "Sea-GuU," off Cape Hatteras, aud
began as fullows :

" My Husband,— It would be mockery for me
to put the word dear before your honoured
name. You would not believe 1 meant it, —I,
who have sinned aguinai you so deeply, and
wounded your pride so sorely. But, oli, if you
knew all which led lue to what I am, I know
you would pity me, even if you condemned, for
y >u were always kind— loo kind by far to a
wicked girl like me. But, husband, I am not so
bad as you imagine. I have Ic ' you, I know,
and left my darling boy, and he is here with me,
bu by no consent of mine. 1 tried to escape
fro.il him. 1 ean not going to Europe. I um on
my way to Charleston, where Lucy lives, and
when 1 gel there I shall mail this letter to you.
Every word I wvite will be the truth, and you
must believe it, and teach lloger to believe it,
too ; for 1 have not sinned as you suppose, and
Roger need not bluih for his mother, except
tnai she deserted him — "

"Thank Heaven!" dropped from Ro-
ger's quivering lips, as the suspected evil
which, as he grew older, he began to fear
and shrink from, was thus swept away.

He had no doubts, no misgivings now,
and his tears fell like rain upon poor Jes-
sie's letter, which he kissed again and
as he would have kissed the
the writer had it bjeu ihdre

mother ! " he sobbad, "
oh, mother, if you

I be-
could

again, just

dear face of

beside him.

" Mother,
lieve you ;
have lived ! '

Then he went back to the letter, the
whole of which it is not our design to give
at present. It embraced the history of Jes-
sie s life from the days of her early girl-
hood up to that night when she left iier
husband' home, and closed with the words :

" I do not ask you to take me back. I know
that can never be ; but I want you to think as
kindly of me as you can, and when you feel that
you have fully "orgiven n>e, show thi i letter to
Roger, if he is old enough to understand it.
Tell him to forgive me, and give him thin lock
of his mother's hair. Heaven bless and keep
my little boy, and grant that he may be a com-
fort to you and grow up a good and noble man."

The lock of hair, which was enclosed in a
separate bit of paper, had dropped upon the
carpet, where Roger found it, his heart

forget an injury to
had not forgiven
proved by the fact
given the letter

swelling in his throat as he opened the paper
and held upon his finger the coil of golden
hair. It was very long, and curlei still
with a persistency which Mrs. Walter
Scott, with all lier papers, could never hope
to attain ; but the softness and brightness
were gone, and it clung to Roger's finger, a
streaked, fa led tress, but inexpressibly dear
to him for the sake o her who sued so pite-
ously for his own and his father's forgive-
ness.

" When you feel that you have fully for-
given me, show this letter to Roger, if he is
old enough to understand it."

Roger read this sentence over a^jain, and
drew therefrom this inference. The letter
had never been shown to him, therefore the
writer liad not been forgiven by the dead
man, whose face, even in the cotHn, wore
the stern, inflexible look which Roger al-
ways remembered to have seen upon it.
Squire Irving had been very reserved, and
very unforgiving too. He could not easily
himself, and that he
Jessie's sin was
that he had never
to his son, who,
for a moment, felt himself growing
hard and indignant to one who could hold
out against the sweet, piteous pleadings in
that letter from poor, unfortunate Jessie.

" But I forgive you, mother; I believe
you innocent. I bless an I revere your me-
mory, my poor, poor, lost mother !" Roger
sobbei], as he kissed the faded curl and
kissed the sea stained letter.

He knew now how it came to be mailed in
New York, and shuddered as he read again
the postscript, written by a stranger, who
said that a few hours after Jessie's letter was
finished, a tire had broken out and spread so
rapidly that all communication with the
life-boats was cut off, and escape seemed im-
possible ; that in the moment of peril Jessie
had come to him with the letter, which
she asked him to take, and if he escaped
alive, to send to Millbank with the news of
herd-ath. She also wished him to add that,
so far as fte was coucerued, what she had
written was true ; which he accordingly did,
as he could " not do otherwise than obey the
commands of one so lovely as Mrs. Ir-
ving."

" Curse him; curse that man !" Roger said,
between his teeth, as he read the unfeeling
lines ; and then, in fancy, he saw the dread-
ful scene : the burning ship, the fearful agony
of her doomed passengers, while amid it all
his mother's golden hair, and white, beauti-
ful face appeared, as she stood before her
betrayer, and charged him to send her dying
message to Millbank if he escaped and she
did not.

rogp:r irving's ward.

led the paper
til of golden
i curlel Btill
Mrs. Walter
d never hope
id brightness
ger's hnger, a
(resaibly dear
iued 8o pite>
ler's forgive-

ave fully for-
)ger, if he is

r a>j;ain, and
. Tlie letter
therefore the
by the dead
e cothn, wore
10 h Roger al-
jeu u|)on it.
reserved, and
lI not easily
and that he
sin was
had never

son, who,
elf growing
3 could hold
pleadings in
late .Jessie.

; I believe
re your me-

ler !" Hoger

d curl and

be mailed in
e read again
nger, who
e's letter was
md spruad so
:)n with the
e seemed im-
peril Jessie
etter, which
' he escaped
the news oi
to add that,
lat she had
ordingly did,
han obey the
as Mrs. Ir-

' Roger said,
he unfeeling
w the dread-
earful agony
le amid it all
hite, beauti-
before her
nd her dying
)ed and she

It was an hour from the time Roger enter-
ed the room before he went out, and in that
hour he seemed to himself to have grown
older by years than he was before he knew
so much of his mother and had read her
benediction.

" She was pure and good, let others be-
lieve as they may, and I will honour her
memory and try to be what I know she
would like to have me," he said to Hester
when he met her alone, and she asked him
what he had learned of his mother.

Hester had read the letter when she found
it. It wasnot her nature to refrain, and she,
too, had fullyex onerated Jessie and cursed
the man whohad followed her, even to her
husband'eside, with his alluring words. But
she would rather that Roger should not
know of the liberty she had taken, and so she
said nothing of having read the letter first,
especially a? he did not offer to show it to
her. There was a clause in what the bad
man had written which might be construed
into a doubt of gome portions of Jessie's
story, aud Roger understood it; and, while
it only deepened his hatred of the man, in-
stead of shaking|his confidence in his mother,
he resolved that no eye but his own should
ever see the whole of that letter. But he
showed Hester the curl of hair, and asked
if it was like his mother's ; and then, draw-
ing her into the library, questioned her mi-
nutely with regard to the past. And Hester
told him all she thought best of his mother's
life at Millhank ; — of the scene in the bridal
chamber, when she wept so piteously and
said, " I did not want to come here;" — of
the deep sadness in her beautiful face, which
nothing ciiuld efface; — of her utter indiffer-
ence to the homage paid hereby the people
of Belvidere, or the costly presents heaped
upon her by her husband.

" She was always kind and attentive to
him," Hester said ; " but she keut out of his
way as much as possible, and I've seen her
shiver and turn white about the mouth if he
just laid his hand on her in a kind of loviu'
way, you know, as old men will have toward
their young wives. When she was expectin'
you, it was a study to see her sit' in' for hours
and hours in her own room, lookin' straight
into the tire, with her hands clinched in
her lap, and her eyes so sad and crviu'
like-" '

"riln'tmothe want me born?" Roger
asked with quivering lips ; and Hester an-
swered —

" At first I don't think she did. She was
a young girlish thing ; but, after you came,
all that passed, and she just lived for
you till that unlucky trip to Saratoga, when
she was never like herself again."

" You were with her, Hester. Did you see
him r

" I was there only a few days, and you
was took sick. The air or something didn't
agree it *hy ou, anp 1 fetched you home.
Your father was more anxious for me to do
that than she was. >io, I didn't sea him to
know him. Your mother drew a crowd
around her and he might have been in it, but
I never seen him.

There was a call for Roger, and hiding his
mother's letter in a private drawer of the
writing-desk, he went out to meet the gentle-
men who were to take charge of his father's
funeral.

CHAPTER V.

THE FUNKKAL.

There was to be quite a display, for the
squire had lived in Belvidere for forty
years. He was i he wealthiest man in the
place, — the one who yave the most to every
benevolent object and approved of every
public improvement. He had bought the
organ and bell for the church in the little
village ; he had built the parsonage at 1 is
own expense, and half of the new town-
house. He owned the large manufactory on
the river, and the shoe-sliop on the hill ; and
the workmen, who had ever lound him a
kind, considerate master, were going to
follow him to the grave together with the
other citizens of the town. The w eather,
however, was unpropitious, for the raui kept
steaddy falling, and by noon was driving in
sheets across the river and down the winding
valley. AJrs. Walter Scott's hair, though
kept in papers until th« early dinner, at
which some of the village magnates were
present, came out of curl, and she was com-
pelled to loop it back from her face, which
style added to rather than detracted from
her beauty. Hut she did not think so, aud
she was nut feeling very amiable wlien she
went down to dinner and nut you;;g Mr.
Schotield, the old lawyer's son, who had
stepped into his father's business and had
been frequently to Millbank. Marriage was
not a thing which Mrs. Walter Scott con-
templated. She liked Ler fretclom too well,
but she always liked to make a good impies-
sion,— to luok her very best, —to be admired
by gentlemen, if they were gentlemen whose
admiration was worth the having. And
young Schotield was Morth her while to cul-
tivate, and in spitt of htr straightened hair
he thought her very handsome, and stylish,
and grand, and made himself very agne ible
at the table and in the parlour after t:ie
dinner was over. Ho knew more of the
squire's affairs than any one in Belvidere.

'lill

MILLBANK ; OR.

> hi

I !

ti!'

He was at Millbank only the day before the
suire died, and had ati appointment to come
again ou the very evening of hia death.

" He was going to change hia i/ill : add a
codicil or sometliiiiL',' lie aaid, and Mrs.
Walter Scott looked up uneaaily as she re-
plied, —

" He left a will,then ? Do you know any-
thing (f it ?"

"No, madam. Ami if I did, I could not
honourably reveal my knowledge," the
lawyer answered, a little ttittly ; while Mrs.
Walter Scott, indignant at herself for her
want of discretion, bit her lip and tapped
her foot impatiently upon the carpet.

It was time now for the people to assem-
ble, and as the bell, which the siiuiro had
civen to the parish, sent forth its summons,
the villagers came crowding up ttie avenue
and soon HUed the lower portion of the house,
their damp, steaming garments making Mrs.
Walter Scott very faint, and sending her
often to her smelling-salts, which were her
unfailing remedy for the sickeninijf perfumes
which slie fancied were found only among
the common people like those hllinc; the
rooms at Millbank,— the "factory bugs" who
smelt of wool, and tne " shop-hands" who
carried so strong an odour of leather wherever
they went. Mrs. Walter Scott did not like
shoemakers nor factory hands, and she sat
very stiff and digoitied, and looked at them
contemptuously from behind her long veil as
they crowded into the hall and drawing-
room, and manager?, lome of them, to gain
access to the kitchen where the B^by was.
Her story had Hown like lightning through
the town,and the people had discussed it,from
Mrr. Johnson and her set down to Hester's
married niece, who kept the little public-
house by the toll-gate, and who had seen
the child herself.

"It was just like Roger Irving to bring
it home," the people all agreed, just as they
agreed that it would be absurd for him to
keep it.

That he would not do so they were sure,
and the fear that it might be sent away
before they had a look at it brouglit many
a woman to the funeral that rainy, dis-
agreeable day. Baby was Ruey's charge
that afternoon, and in a fresh white dress
which Hester had brought from the chtst,
she sat in her cradle-box, surrounded by as
heterogeneous a mass of piaythinits as were
every conjured up to amuse a child. There
was a silver spoon, and a tin cup, and a
tea-camster, and a feather duster, and
Frank's ball, and Roger's tooth-brush, and
some false hair whicii Hester used to wear
as puflFs, and which amused the baby more
than all the other articles combined. She
seemed to have a •ancy for tearing huir,and

shook and pulled the faded wig in high
glee, and won many a kiss and hug and com-
pliment from the curious womeu who gath
ered round her.

"She was a bright, playful darling," they
said, as they left her and went back to
the parlours where the funeral services were
l)eing read o"er the cold, stiff form of Mill-
bank's late proprietor.

Roger's face was very pale, and his eyes
were tixed upen the carpet, where he saw
continually one of two pictures — ids mother
standing (m the "Sea-Gull's" deck, or sit-
ting before the fire, as Hester had said she
sat, with her eyea always upon one point,
the cheerful blaze curling up the chimney's
mouth.

" I'll find that man some time. I'll make
him tell why he left that doubt to torture
me," he was thinkiuij just as the closing
liymn was sung and the services were
en led.

Mrs. Walter Scott did not think it ad-
visable to go to the grave, and so Hester
and .Aleck went in the carriage with Roger
and Frank, the only relatives in all t'le long
procession which wound dovv:i the avenue and
tlirnugh the lower part of tlm town to wht re
the tall Irving monument showed pl.iiidy
in the Belvidero cemetery. The sijuire's first
wife was therein theyarl, her name was on
the maible — "Adeline, beloved wife of
William H. Irving ;" and Walter Scott's
name was there, too, though he was sleeping
in Greenwootl ; but Jessie's name had not
been added to the li.st, and Ro^'er noticed it,
and wondered he had never been struck by
the omission as he was now, and to himself
he said : " I can't bring you up from your
ocean bed, dear mother, and put you here
where you beh)ng, but 1 can do you justice
otherwise, and I wi 1."

Slowly the long procession madekth« cir-
cuit of the cemetery and passed out into the
street, where, with th3 dead behind them,
the horses were put to greater speed, and
those of the late Squire Irving drew up ere
long before the door of Millbank. I'he rain
was over and the April sun was breaking
through the clouds, while patches of clear
blue sky were spreiding over the heavens.
It bade fair to be a Hne warm afternoon, and
the windows and doors of Millbank were
ouen to let out the atmospijere of death and
to let in the cheerful sunshine. Friendly
hands had been busy to make the house at-
tractive to the mourners when they returned
from the grave. There were bright flowers
in the vases on the mantel and tables, the
furniture was pub back in its place, the
drapery removed from the udrrors, and the
wind blew sof'ly through the lace curtains
into the handsome rooms. And Mrs. Waiter

ROGER IRVING S WARD.

wi^ in high
hug and coin-
eu who gath

lariiii^," they
rent back to
services were
form of Mill-
anil his eyes
vhore he saw
i — liis mother
deck, or sit-
had said she
m one point,
;he chimney's

o. I'll make
l)t to torture
9 the closing
ervices were

tliink it ad-

lid so Hester

e with linger

n all t<ie long

ho avenue and

own to whi re

owed pliinly

squire's first

name was on

ived wife of

'alter Scott's

J was sleepinj^

ame had not

er noticed it,

len stru'jk by

id to himself

up from your

put you here

) you justice

nadebth« cir-

out into the

)ehind them,

speed, and

drew up ere

k. rhe rain

i'as breaking

hes of clear

the heavens.

fternoon, and

iilbank were

of death and

Friendly

the house at-

ley returned

■i.dit rtowers

d tables, the

3 place, the

■ors, and the

lace curtains

Mrs. Waiter

Scott, wrapped in her scarlet shawl, kne*
she looked a very queen as she trailed her
long skirts slowly over the carpets, aud
thought witli a feeling of intense satisfaction
how pleasant it was at Millbank now, and
how doubly pleasant it would be later in the
season when her changes and improvements
were completed. She should not till the
■"^utuse with company that summer, she
thought. It would not look well so soon
a'ter the squire's death, but she would have
Mrs. (Jhe.sterfield with her sister (irace, and
I nssibly Captain Stanhope, Grace's betrothed.
Ttiat would make quite a gay party, and ex-
cite sulHcieiitly the admiration of the vil-
laiM^rs. Mrs. Walter Scott was never
hippy unless she was envied or admired, and
)M she seemed on the high road to both
tht-se conditions, she felt very amiable, and
kiiiii, and sweet-tempered as she stood in the
door waiting to receive Roger and Frank,
when they returned from the burial.

CHAPTER VI.

THE EVE.VINO AFFER THE FUNERAL.

Young SchoHeld had been asked by Mrs.
Waiter Scott to return to Millbank after the
services at the grave were over. She had
her own ideas with regard to the proper way
of managing the wiH matter, and the sooner
the truth was known the sooner would all
parties understand the ground they stood
on. She knew her ground. She had no fears
for herself. The will, — Squire Irving's last
will and testament, — was lying in hi« private
drawer in the writing desk, where she had
seen it every day since she had been at
Millbank ; but she had not read it, for the
envelope was sealtd, and having a most un-
bounded respect for law and justice, and
fancying that to break the seal would neither
be just or lawful, she had contented herself
with merely taking the package in her hand,
and assuring herself that it was safe against
the moment when it was wanted, it had
struck her tint it was a little yellow an I
time-worn, but she bad no suspicion that
anything was wroiif/. To-day, however, while
the people were at the grave, she had been
slightly start leil, for when tor a second time
she tried the drawer of the writing-desk, she
found it locked and the key gone ! Had
there been foul play ? and who had locked
the drawer? she asked herself, while, for a
moment, the cold perspiration stood under ,
her hair. Then thinking it probable that
Roger, who was noted for thoughtfulness, I
might have turned and taken the key to his
father's private drawer as a precaution
against any curious ones who might be at the
funeral, she dismissed her fears and waited
calmly for the dtnouement, as another indi-
2

vidual was doiug,— I fettfr Flo!/d,—yvho
knew about the sealed package just as Mrs.
Walter Scott did, and who had been deterred
from opening it for the same reason which
had actuated that lady, and who had also
seen aud hamlletl it each day since the
squire's death.

Hester, too, knew that the drawer was
locked, and that gave her a feeling of secu-
rity, while on her May to ma I from the grave,
where her mind was running far more upon
the a/ter-cliip, as she termed it, than upon
the solemn service for the dead. Hester was
very nervous, and an extra amount of green
tea was put in the steeper for her beneht,and
she could have shaken the unimpressible
Aleck for seeming so composed urul uncon-
cerned when he stood, as she said, "right
over a dreadful, gapiii' vertex."

And Aleck was unconcerned. Wliatever
he had lent his aid to ha<l been idannoil by
his better half, in whom he had unbounded
confidence. If she stood over "a gapin'
vertex," she had the ability to skirt round it
or across it, and take him safely with her.
So Aleck had no fears, and ate a hearty
' supper and drank his mug of beer and smok-
ed his pipe in quiet, and heard, without the
least perturbation, the summons for the ser-
vants tf) assemble in the library and hear
their master's last will and testament. 'J'his
.was Mrs. Walter Scott's idea, and when tea
was over she had said to young Schotield :

" You told me father left a will. Perhaps
it would be well enough for you to read it to
us before you go. I will have the servants
in, as they are probably remembered in it."
Her manner was very deferential toward
young Schotield and implied conridence in his
abilities, and flattered by attention from so
great a lady he expressed himself as at her
service for anything. So when the daylight
was gone and the wax candles were lighted
in the library, Mrs. Walter Scott repaired
thither with Frank, whom she had brought
from his post by the candle box. It was
natural that he should be present as well as
Roger, and she arranged the two boys,
one on each side of her, and
motioned the servants to seats across the
ro >m, and Lawyer Schofield to the arm-
chuii ne;vr the centre of the room. She wag
rnakiiig it very formal and ceremonious, and
Knijli.'ihij, and Roger wondered what it was
ail for, while Frank fidgeted and longed for
the candle box, where the Baby lay asleep.
"I am told Squire Irving left a will,"
Mrs. Walter Scott said, when her auditors
were assembled, "and I thought best for
Mr. Schotield to read it. Do you know
where it is?' and she addressed herself to
the lawyer, who replied, "lam sure I do

MIIXBANK ; OR,

not, uitleMB in hia private drawer where he
keijt iiiii iinportaDt papers."

Ito^er ftuiihcd a little then, for it was into
thut private drawer that he had
put hi8 mother's letter, and the
kcj wa» in Ida pocket. Mrs. Walter Soot
uolicbd the HuHU, but was not quite prepared
to see Jloger arise aJb once, unlwuk the
drawer, and take from it a package, which
WU8 not the will, bat whiuh, nevurtheless,

• excited her curionity.

'* Lawyer 8cholield can examine the pa-

• pers," Roger said, resuming his seat, wliile
the young man went to the drawer and took
out tiiu sealed envelope which both Mrs.
Walter 8cott and Hester liad had in tlieir
hands so many times witliia the last tuw

> days.

•'WILLIAM U. IRVISro'rt LAST WILL ANIJ TES-
TAMENT."

There was no doubt about its bein^ tiie
genuine article, and the lawyer waned a
inouieat before opening it. There was per-
fect silence in the room, except fur tlie clock
on the in;iutel, 'vhicli ticked so lnudly and
made Hester so nervous tliut she almost
screamed aloud. The candies sputtertd a
licclu, and ran up long, biacj. wicks, ami the
fire on the hearth oust, weird shadows on the
wall, and tlie silence wa.i growing oppressive,
when Frank, who could endure no longer,
pulled ills mother's skirts, and exclaimed,
" Mother, mother, what is he going to do,
and wiiy dun't he do it ? I want the darned
thing over, so I can go out."

That broke the spell, and Lawyer Scho-
fiehl began to read ^Squire Irviug's last will
and testament. It was dated tive years be-
fore, at a time when the squire lay ou his
sick bed, from which he neverexpected to rise,
and not lung after his purchase of the house ou
Lexington-avenue for Mrs. Walter Scott.
L'here wus mention made of his deceased son
having received his entire portion, but the
Sim ot four hundred dollars was annually to
be paid for Frank's education until he was
»)t a;;o, when he was to receive from the es-
t:ite live thousand dollars to "set himself up
iu business, provided that business had
nothing to do with horsea."

The old man's aversion to the rook on
which his son had split was manifest even in
his tvilt, but no one paid any heed to it then.
They were listeninij too eagerly to the read-
ing of the docunent, which, after remember-
ing Frank, and leaving a legacy to the church
in Belvidere, and anuthar to an orphan
asylum iu JSew York, and another to his
servants, with the exceptoin of
i\leck and Hester, gave the whole
of tiie Irving possessions, ooth real and per-
sonal, to the boy Ro(;er, who was as far as

possible from realizing that he was the rich-
est heir for miles and milea around. He wau
feeling sorry that Frank bad not fared l>et-
ter, and wondering wby Aleck and Hester
had not been remembered. 'J'hey were wit-
nesses of the will, and there was no mistak-
ing Hester's struiglit up ».nd down letters,
or Aleck's back hand.

Mrs. Walter Scott was confounded — ut-
terly, totally confounded — an<l for a moment}
deprived of her powers of speech. Tliat she
had not listeneil to the squire's /u^t will and
tcataineut — that there was fuul play some-
where, she fully believed, and she scanned
the faces of thosri present to tiud the guilty
one. But for the fact that Aleck and heater
were not remembered in this will, she might
have suspected them ; but the omission of
their names was in their favour, while the
stolid, almost stupid look of Aleck's fucw
was another proof of his innoceinie. Hes-
ter, too, though slightly restless, ai>peared
as usual. Mobody showed guilt but /ioger,
whose face had turutnl very red,
and was very red still as he
sat fidgeting in his chair and looking
liard at Frank. The locked drawer and the
packxge taken from it recurred now to the
lady's mind, and made her sure that Roger
had the real will in his pocket ; and iu a
choking voice she said to the lawyer, as he
was about to congratulate the boy on his
brilliant fortune : " Stop, please, Mr. Scho-
liehl : I think — yes, 1 know — there was an-
other will — a later one — in which niatters
were reversed — and — and Frank — was the
heir."

Her words rang through the room, and,
for an instant, those who heard them sat as
if stunned. Roger's face was white now
instead of red, but he didn't look as startled
as migqt have been expected. He did not
realize that if what his sister said was true,
he was almost a beggar ; — he only thought
how much better it was for Frank, toward
whom he meant to be so generous ; and he
looked kindly at the little boy who had, iu
a certain sense, come up as his rival. Mrs.
Walter Scott had risen from her chair and
locked the door ; then going to the table
where the lawyer was sitting, she stood
leaning upon it and gazing fixedly at Roger.
The lawyer, greatly surprised at the turn
matters were taking, said to her a little sar-
castically : ** I fancied, from something you
t<aid, that you did not know there Avas a will
at all. Why do you think there was a
later one ? Did you ever see it, and why
should Squire Irving do injustice to hia only
son ?"

Mrs. Walter Scott detected in the lawyer's
tone that he had forsaken her, and it added
to her excitement, making her ao far forget

ROGER IRVINO'8 WARD.

i was tti« rich-
\un\. He wau
uut fared l>et-
( and HeHter
'hey were wit-
as iiu inistak-
duwii letters,

iiifotinded — ut«

I tiir a moment
ch. TItat she
H lad will and
>ul play soine-

II she scanned
liud the guilty
jck and buster
will, she might
le umisHiun ot'
)ur, while the
f Aleck's fact*
lootntie. Hes-
tl*'8a, appeared
lilt but liwjer.
I very red,
itill as ho
[■ and looking
Irawer and the
T^d now to tlie
ure that Roger
cket ; and in a
! lawyer, as he
the boy on his
laae, Mr. Scho-
-there was an-

which matters
'"rank — was the

the room, and,
\n\ them sat as
vaa white now
look as st&rtled
He did not
r said was true,
3 only thought
Frank, toward
lerous ; and he
oy who had, iu

is rival. Mn
her chair and
to the table
ting, she stood
edly at Roger,
ud at the turn
ler a little sar-
soniething you
here was a will
there was a
e it, and why
tice to his only

in the lawyer's
r, and it added
er so far forget

her character as a lady, that her voice was
raised to an unnatural pitch, and shook with
enger as she replied, " f never saw it, but 1
know tliere was one, and that your father
drew It. It ■wski made some months ago,
when I was viuitiug Milliiank. 1 went lo
Boston for a few Uaya, and when 1 came
back, tJ4nire Irving told me what he had
done."

•' Who witnessed the will?" the lawyer
asked.

"That I do not know. I only know there
was one, and that Frank was tneheir."

"A most unnatural thing to cut off his
own sou tor a grandchild whose father bad
already received his portion," young 8cho-
tield said ; and, still u a exasperated, Mrs.
Walter Scott replied, " 1 do not know that
Roger was cut otf. 1 only know that Frank
was to have Mdlbank with its appurte-
uanceb, ami I'll search this room until 1 tiud
the Htuleu paper. What was it that yuu
took from the drawer, boy ?"

Roger was awake now to the situation. He
undei'dtood that Mrs. Walter iScotl believed
his father had deprived him of Millbank, the
horn he loved, aud he understood another
face, Which, It possible, out deeper than dis-
inheiituuce. 6ae suspected hiiu of stealing
the will. The Irving blood in the boy wan
roused. His eyes were not like Jessie's now,
but flashed indignantly as he, too, rose to his
feet, aiul coufiunting ihe angry woman, de-
manded what she meant.

" bliow liie that paper in your pocket, and
tell me why that drawer was locked this
morning, and why you had the key," she
said; aud Roger replied, "You tried the
drawer then, ic seems, and found it locked.
Lell me, please, what business you had
wicii my lather's private drawer and pa
pers if"

"1 had the right of a daughter,— an older
sister, wuoise business it was to see that mat-
lers were kept straigut until some head was
appointed," Mrs. vV alter fScott said, and
tueu she asked again for the package which
Roger had taken irom the drawer.

Tnere wasa mament's hesitancy on Roger's
part ; then rcuiembering that she could not
compel him to let her read his mother's fare-
well luesduge, he took the sea-stained letter
from his pocket and said :

"it was from my mother. She wrote it
on the Sca-Guil," just before it took hre. It
was found ou the table where father sat
writing to me wiieu he died. I believe he
was going CO send it to me. At all events it
is mine now, and 1 shall keep it. Heater
gave it to me this morning, aud I put it in
i/he private drawer aud took the key with
me. 1 knew nothing of this will, or
aay other will except that father

always talked as if I would have Mill-
bank, and toltl me of some improvementa it
would be well to make in the factory and
shoe-shop iu the course of a few years, should
he not live so long. Are yoU' satisfied with
my explanation ? '
He was looking at the lawyer, who replied:
" 1 believe you, boy, just as 1 believe that
Squire Irving destroyetl his second will, if
he over made one, which, without any dis-
respect intended to the lady, I doubt, though
she may have excellent reasons for believing
otherwise. It would have beet a most aa-
uatural thing for a father to cast off with a
legacy his only son ; and knowing 8(iuire
Irving as I did, I cannot think he would do
it."_

The lawyer bad forsaken the lady's cause
entirely, and wholly forgetting herself in her
wrath she burst out with —

"As to the sonahip there may be a que*
tion of doubt, and if such doubt ever crept
into Squire Irving's mind he was not a man
to rest quietly, or to leave his money to a
stranger."

Roger had notthemost remoteidea what the
woman meant, and the lawyer only a vagae
one ; but Hester knew, aud she sprang up
like a tiger from the chair where she had
hitherto sat a quiet spectator of what was
transpiring.

" You woman," she cried, facing Mrs
Walter s»cott, with a fiery gleam in her gray
eyes, "if I could have my way, I'd turn
you out of doors, bag and baggage. If there
was a doubt, who hatched it up but you, you
sly, insinuatin' critter. I overheard you
myself working upon the weak old man,
uiid hintiu' things you orto blush to speak
There was no mention made of will
len, but I know that was what you was up
to, and if he was persuaded to the ..:i'»-
able piece of work which this gentlem.*..,
who knows law more than I do, don't believe,
aud then destroyed it,— as he was likely to
do When he came to himself, — and yon,
with your snaky ways, was in New York, it
has jerved you right, and makes nie thiak
more and more that the universal religion is
true. Not that I've aaything special agin'
Frank, whose wuat blood he got from you,
but that Roger should be slighted by his
own father is too great a dose to s waller, and
1 for one shan't stay any longer in the same
room with you ; so hand me the key to the
door which you locked when you thought
Roger had the will in his pocket Maybe
you'd like to search the hull co- boodle of
us. You are welcome to, I'm sure."

Mrs. Walter Scott was a good deal taken
aback with this tirade. She had heard some
tiuths from which she shrank, and, glad to

MIIJ.BANK ; OR,

be rid of HeHter on any terms, she mechani-
oally huld out the key of the door.

But hero the lawyer interpoaed, and said :

" Excuse nie° one moment, please. Mrs.
Flo^d, do you remember signing this will
which I have read in your hearing ? "

"Perfectly;" and Hester swapped the
words otf with an emphasis. "The master
was sick and afraid he Hiight die, and he
aent for your father, who was alone with
Isim a spell, and then he called me and my
old man in, and said we was to be witnesses
to his will, and we was, Aleck and me."

" It was strange father did not remember
you, who had lived with him so long," lloger
suggested, his generosity and sense of justice
overmastering all other emotions.

" If ho had they could not have been
witnesses," the lawyer said, while Hester
rejoined :

"It ain't strange at all ; for only six weeks
before, he had given us two thoudand dollars
to buy the tavern stand down by the toll-
gate, where we've Het my niece Martha up in
businesH, who keepH as good a house as there
is in Belvidere ; so you see that's explained,
and he gave us good wages always, and
kept rasin', too, till now we have jintly
more than some ministers, with our vittlea
into the bargain."

Hester was exonerating her late master
from any neglect of herself and Aleck, and
in so doing she made the lawyer forget to
ask if she had ever heard of a second will
made by Squire Irving. The old lawyer
Schotield would have done so, but the son
was your(g and inexperienced, and not given
to Buspeoting anybody. Besides chat, he
liked Roger. He knew it wad right
that he should be the heir, and
believed he was, and that Mrs. Walter
Scott was altogether mistaken in
her ideas. Still he suggested that there
could be no harm in searching among the
squire's papers. And Mrs. Walter Scott
did search, assisted by Roger, who told her
of a secret drawer in the writing desk and
opened it himself for her inspection, finding
nothing there but a time-worn letter and a
few faded flowers — lilies of the valley — which
must have been worn in Jessie's hair, for
there was a golden thread twisted in among
the faded blossoms. That secret drawer
was the sepulchre of all the love and ro-
mance of the old squire's later marriage, and
it seemed to both Mrs. Walter Scott and
Roger like a grave which they had sacrile-
giously invaded. So they closed it reve-
rently, with its withered blossoms and mo-
meutos of a past which never ought to have
been. But afterward, Roger went back to
the secret drawer, and took therefrom the
flowers, and the letter written by Jessie to

her aged suitor a few wMkt before her mor-
ringe. These, with tlm letter written on
the sea, were sacred to him, and he put them
away where no curious eye could tin<l them.
There had been a few wohIh of <;r)nHultation
between Roger and Lawyer Seliofield, and
then with a hint that lie was alwayn at
Roger's service, the lawyer had taken his
leave, remarking to Mrs. Walter Scott, as ho
did so :

"I thought you would lind yourself mis-
taken ; still you might investigate a little
further."

He meant to be polite, but there was a
tinge of sarcasm in hiH tc^ne, wliich the lady
recognized, and inwardly reseated. She had
fallen in his opinion, and site knew it, and
carried herself loftily until he aaid to Roger :

"I had an appointment to meet your
father in his library the very evening he died.
Ho wished to make a chai'^e in hJH will.and
I think, perhaps, he intended doing better by
the young boy, Frank. At le.\st, that is
possible, and you may deem it advisable to
act as if you know that was his intention.
You have an immense amount of money at
your command, for your father was
the richest man in the county."

Frank had long ago gone back to the kit-
chen and the Baby. He had no 8i)ecial in-
terest in what they were talking al)ont, nor
was-it needful that he should have. He
was safe with Roger, who, to the lawyer's
suggestion, replied :

" I shall do Frank jufltioo, as I rxm sure he
would have done me, had the tables been
reversed. "

The lawyer bowed himself out, and Roger
was alone with his sister-in-law, who looked
so white, and injured, and disappointed, that
he felt, to say the least, very uncomfortable
in her presence. He had not liked her man-
ner at all, and had caught glimpses of a far
worse disposition than he had thought she
possessed, while he was morally certain that
she was ready and willing to trample on all
his rights, and even cast him aloof from his
home if she could. Still, he would rather be
on friendly terms with her, for Frank's sake,
if for no other, and so he went up to jher
and said :

" I know you are disappointed if you
really believed father had left the most of his
money to Frank."

" I don't believe. I know ; and there
has been foul play somewhere. He told me
he had made anather will, here in this very
room. "

"Helen," Roger said, calling her, as he
seldom did, by lier Christian name, and hav-
ing in his voice more of sorrow than anger

" Helen, why did father wish to serve me

ROGER IRVINO'S WARD.

BO, whcMi ]w wtiH iilwayH 80 kind ? Whftt
reagim ilnl lu- give ?"

R( m'l'H cyos wero full <if loars, ami thoro
was a i{ri<;vril look in liin fuce as hu waited
his siMtur'H answer. Siiuiru Irving had>;ivcii
her no n^aMnn for thu tinjuHt act. She had
given tht! ruaHon to liiin, making him for a
time iilnioHt a madman, hut bhe couid not
give that reason to the hoy, although she
had ill a m >'niMit of pissioii hinted at it,
and drawn down lies' ^er's vengeance on her
head. If ho had not understood her then,
she would noG wouml liim now by the cruel
auspii'ion. Thus rrasonf d the better n<tture
of tliH woman, while hi.T mean, grasping
spil-it .sui'i;«'at<;d tliat in oaac the will was not
found, it would Ito liotter to stand well in
Itogei 's good opinion. So she replied, very
Idandly and smoothly :

" Attor your fatlier had given my husband
his portion, he grew muuhriuhur tiian he hail
ever lieen before, and I suppose ho thought
it was ciidy fair that Frank should have what
woulil have come to his father if the estate
had been (Mjually divided. I never supposed
you were cut olF entirely ; that would have
ufen unnatural."

Roger wa.i not satiatied with this explana-
tion, fur sliariug equally with Frank, and
being cut oil' with only a legacy, were wide-
ly diHuK'nt things, and her words at one
time had implied tiiat the latter waa the case.
He »lid not, liowevcr, wish to provoke her to
another outburst ; and so, with a few words
to the cti'cct that Frank should not suffer at
his haiid», he bade his sister good-night, and
repaired to his own room. He had passed
through a great deal, and was too tired and
excited to care even for the Baby that night;
and, when Hester knocked at his door, he
jiiiswerecl thai he could not see her — she
must wait until to morrow. So Hester went
away, saying to herself :

" He's a right to be let alone, if he wants
to be, for he is now the master of Millbauk.''

CHAPTER VII.

MILLBAN'K AFTER THE DAY OF THE FUNERAL.

Mrs. ^Valter Scotk could not easily give up
her behalf in the latter will, and after every-
thing about the house was quiet, and the
tired inmates at^loep, she went from one va-
cant room to another, her slippered feet
treadin:,' ii^'htly and giving back no sound to
l;)etray lier to any listening ear, as she glided
tiinmgli the lower rooms, and then ascended
to the garret, where was a barrel of old re-
ceipts and letters, and papers of no earthly
use whatever. These she examined minute-
ly, but in vain. Tiie missing document was
not there, and she turned to Jessie's picture,

and wait juat bending down for a look a^
that, when a sudden noise startled her, and,
turning round, she aaw a head, surmounted
by a broad-frilled cap, apptuiring up the
stairway. It waa Hester's htad, and Heater
herself came into full view, with a short
night-gown on, and her feet encased in a
pair of Aleck's slippers, which, btiing a deal
too big, clicked with every ^tcp, and made
the noise Mrs. Walter Scott lirHt heard.

"Oh, you're at it, be you ?" Hester said,
putting her tallow candle down on the floor.
' I thought I heard aomethin' anoopiu'
round, ami got up to see what 'twas. I L'uess
I'll hunt too, if you like, fori in afraid you
might aetthe houae afire."

"Tiiank you ; I'm through with my aearch
for to-niffht," waa Mrs. Walter Scotts lofty
answer, as she swept down the garret staira
paat Heater Floyd and into her own n<oni.

There was a bitter hatred existing between
these two women now, and had the will been
found, Hester's tenure at Millbank would
have hung upon a very slender thread. But
the will was not found, neither that night
nor the next day, when Mrs. Walter Scott
searched openly and thonnigldy with Roger
as her aid, for which Hestei- called him a
fool, and Frank, who was beginning to get
an inkling of matters, a "spooney.' Mra.
Walter Scott waa outgenerallud, and the
second day after the funeral she took her de-
parture and went back to Lexingtonavenue,
where her first act was to dismiss the extra
servant she had hired when Millbank seemed
in her grasp, while her second was to coun-
termand her orders for so much mourning.

If S(piire Irving had left her nothing, she,
of course, had nothing to expend in crape
and bombazine, and when she next appeared
on Broadway, there were pretty green strings
on her straw hat, and a handsome thread-
lace veil in place of the long crape which
had covered her face at the funeral. Mra.
Walter Scott had dropped back into her
place in New York, and for a little time our
story has no more to do with her ladyship, but
keeps us at Millbank, where Roger, with
Col. Johnson as his guardian, reigceJ the
triumphant heir.

As was natural, the Baby was the first ob-
ject considered after the excitement of Mrs.
Walter Scott's departure had subsided.
What should li*? done with it ? Ccdouel
Johnson asked Roger this in Hester's pre-
sence, and Roger answered at once ; *• I shall
keep her and educate her as if she were my
sister. If Hester feels that the care will be
too much for her, I will get a nurse till the
child IS older."

" Yes, and then I'll have both nuss and
baby to 'tend to," Hester exclaimed. "If
it must stay, I'll see to it myself, with Ruey'a

MIM.BANK ; OR,

help. I can't have a nnu under foot, doin
nothin',"

This wan not exactly what Hncer wanted.
He hftd not yet htat aixht of that picture of
the French numein a cnp, to whom Hi'stor
did not hear the ulij^htent n'liemhianco ; hut
he saw that Hcnter'n plan wan ht-tter than
his, and miiutly j^ave np the French nnrne
and thepiea.>aNt nursery, hut he ordered the
crib, anu the baby waK^on, and the briuht
blanket with it, and then ho i^aid to Hoh-
ter, •' Baby must have a name," athlini? that
once, when the woman in the cars waH hn«h-
ing it, she had called it something which
■ounded like Magdalen. "That, yon know,
wan mother's secon<l name," he said. "So
•upjmse we call her 'Jessie Mag.lalen ' ; "
but attainst that Hester arrayed herself so
flerct-ly that he gave up ".lessie." but in-
•istfd upon " Magdalen," and added to it
his own middle name, " Lennox."

There was a doubt in his mind as to whether
■he had ever beoti baptized, and thinking it
better to be baptized twice than not at all,
he determined to have the ceremony per-
formed, and Mrs. Col. Johnson con8ente<l to
stand as sponsor for the chihi, whom Hester
carried to the church, performing well her
part as nurse, and receiving back into her
arms the little Magdalen Lennox, who had
crowed and laughed, and put her fat hand to
her head to wipe off the drops of water which
fell upon her as she was '* received into
Christ's flock and signed with his sign " upon
her brow.

During the entire summer Roger remained
at Millbank, where he made a few changes,
l)oth in the grounds and in the house, which
began to wear a more modern look than dur-
ing the old squire's life. Some of the shrub-
bery was rooted up, and some of the oldest
trees cut down, so that the sunlight couM
find freer access to the rooms, which had
rarely been used since Jessie went away, but
which Roger opened to the warmth and sun-
light of summer. On the wall in the Ulirary
Jessie's picture was hung. It had been re-
touched and brightened up in Springfield,
and the beautiful face always seemed to smile
a welcome on Roger wheneve"* he came where
it was. On the monument in the graveyard
Jessie's name was cut beneath her husband's,
and every Saturday Roger carried a l)ouquet
of flowers from the Millbank garden and laid
it on the grassy mound, in memory, not so
much of hid father as of the young mother
whose grave was in the sea. Thither he
sometimes brought little Magdalen, who
could M'alk quite easily new, and it was not
an uncommon sight, on pleasant summer
days, to see the boy seated under the ever-
greeos which overshadowed his father's
grave, while toddling among the gray head-

stones of the dead, or playing in the grav«l
walks, was Mai;dalon, with her blanket
pinned about her neck, and her white lun-
bonnot tied beneath her chin. Thus the
summer passed, and in the autumn Roger
went away to Anrtover, where he wan to fin-
ish preparing for co!lege, instead of returning
to his old tutor in Ht. LouIm. After his de-
])arture the front rooms above and below
were closed, and Magdalen, who took more
kindly to the parlours than to the kitchen,
was taught that such tliin^''* Mere only for
her when Master Roger waH at home ; and if
by chance she stole throu;.'h an open door
into the forbi(hlen rooms, she was brought
back at once to her corner in the kiti;hen.
Not roughly, though, for Ilofiter Floyd was
atVays kind to the child first for Roger's
sake, and then for the atrection nhe herself
began to feel for the little one. whose beauty
and bright, pretty ways everybody praise<i.
And now, while the door and shutters of
Millbank are closed, and only the rear por-
tion of the building is open, we pass, with-
out comment, over a period of eleven years,
and open the story airain on a briirht day in
summer, when the sky was as blue and the
air as bland as was the air and »<ky of Italy,
where Roger Irving was travelling.

CHAPTKU VIIL

THE .STRANOER IN BELVIltKltr,

During the eleven year>t since her disap-
pointment Mrs. Walter Scf'tt had never one©
been to Millbank. She had seen the house
several times fiom the jar window as she
was whirled by on her way to Boston, and
she managed to keep a kind of oversight of
all that was transpiring there, but she never
crossed the threshold, and had said slie never
would. Frank, on the contrary, was a fre-
quent visitor there. He bore no malice to
its inmates on account of the missing will.
Roger had been ver}' generous with him. al-
lowing him more than the four hundred a
year, and assisting him out of many a
-'deuced scrape," as Frank termed the debts
he was constantly incurring, with r.o ostensi-
ble way of liquidating them except through
his Uncle Eo(jer. He called him uncle fre-
quently for fun, and Roger always laughed
good-humouredly upon his fair-haired ne-
phew, whom he liked in spite of his many
faults.

Frank was now at Yale, but he was no
student, and would have left college the very
first year but for Roger, who had more influ-
ence over him than any other living person.
Frank believed in Roger, and listened to
him as he would listen to no one else, and
when at last, with his college diploma and

UOflEP. IRVINOS WARD.

\( ill thn KrKV«l
K her lilanktit
hvr white lun-
liiii. Thim tli«
aiitiitnti Ko^tT
i ho wan to fin-
;a(1 of returning
Aft«<r hii (]«•
iiv(> niid belo\r
who took more

tho kitchen,
>< Mero only for
t hoiiiu ; and if

no open door
e wna brought
II the kitchen.
dvr Kh)yd was
rst for itoger'H
loll Hhe hoisidf
I. whoBo beauty
^body praised,
lid shutterR of
y tho roar por-

we |ma8, with-
F <Irvt'ii years,
a britdit day in

Idiio and the

1 Hky of Italy,
lling.

VIDKltr.

ICO her disap*
lia<l never once
Ren the Hourb
'indow as sho

Hoston, and

of ovcrsi^dit of

1)iit she never

said she never

ary, was a fro-

no malice to

R niiHsinj,' will.

\\ith him, al-

ir hundred a

of many a
med the debts
ith r.o ostersi-
xcept through
liin uncle fre-
ways laughed
fiir-haired ne-
e of his many

lilt he was nf>
ollepe the very
ad more influ-
ivint; person.
I listened to
) one else, and
s diploma and

his profeimion as a lawver won. Roi/er went
for two or throw years' travrl in the old
wo'ld, Frank f«dt as if his anffhor/iB" was
8Wv.,.t awny ami h" was bft to float wher-
ever the tide and his own vacillitiiitf dinjiosi-
tion miiiht taUe him. The immt of his vaca-
tions w«'r<! siiont at Millbank, whern he hunt-
ed in th" erand oil woods, with Magdilen
trudging tibedii-ntly at his side in the (!«pa-
city of yaine carrier, or Hshel in the creek or
river, with Magdalen to carry tho worms
and pii^ them on his ho(d{. Frank was lar.y
—terribly, fearfullv lazy and whatever ser-
vice another would render him ho was rea<ly
to receive. So Maudalen, whose hindsand
feet iiev«'r seemed to tire, ministered willing-
ly to the city-bred yoiin.,' man, who t»*ased
her about her dark fai-e .iiid luilled her wavy
h»ir, and bmuht'd at her clothes with tho
Hester <itam|i upon them, ami called her a
little gvjisy, jictting her one moment, and
then in a moodv tit sending her away, " to
wait Koin-wbcro witliiii call, until he wanted
her. And M.iird.ilcn, who never dreamed fif
rebellim^ frrnn the slaverv in which he iield
horwhcii at Millbmk, looked forward with
oatfer deliyht to his coming, and cried when
he went Mway.

lloi.,'er she held in the utmost veneration
and esteem, reirardiug him as something
more than mort.il. She had never carried
the game big for him, or put 'vorma upon his
hook, for he neither fished nor hunted, but
she U'^ed to ride witli him on horseback, bit-
ing her lip^ and winking hard to keep down
her tears and compiler her fear of the spirited
animal he bide her ride. She would have
walked straight into the crater of Vesuvius
if Rogor had told her to, and at his com-
mand she tried to overcome her mortal ter-
ror of horses— to sit and ride, and carry her
whip and reins as he taught her, until at
last she grew accustomed to tho big black
horse, and I!o(.'er's commendations of hor
skill in managing it were a sulfi'Ment recom-
pense for we«ry hours of riding through the
lanes and mo.adows and woods of Midb:ink.

So, too, when Hoger ifave her a Latin
gramm ir aint baile her learn its paiiesi, she
set herself at onco to the task! studying
day and night, and growing fnverish, and
thin, and nervous, until Hester interfered,
and said "a child of ten was no more
fit to study Latin than she was to buihl a
ship, and R >irer ninst let her alone till she
was older if he did not want to kill her."

Then Roger, who in his love for books
had forgotten thit children did not at all
possess his t:i-<tes or nowers of endurance, put
the grammar away and took Masrdalen with
him to New York to a scientific lecture, of
which she did not understand a word, and
during which she fell fast asleep with her

head on his shoulder, and her i|ueep little
straw boniii't dreadfully jamnied and huming
down her Iwick. Rot'er tied on h«r bonnet
when the li-itiire was ovi r, and tried to
Mtiaightfii the pinch in front, an I nevrr xiis-
pe<;tfd that it was at nil dilferi'iit fiom the
othfr l>.>nii»-t« around him. The next ni.;ht
he took h»r to Niblo'n, where she in-nrly
went oro/.y with delitdit ; and for we.ks nft»r,
her little room at .Millbank was the scene of
many a pantomime as she tried to npro-
ilut.e for Mesnie'u bonclit the wondtiful
tilings slio had seen.

That was nearly two years befo-o the mini-
merday of which wo write. She had ti-iheil
and hunted with Frank since then. and. told
liim of Niblo'a as of a place ho had never
seen, and Haid good-byo to Roger, wlio was
going (.11 t(» Kurope, and who had eij.incd
upon lior sundry things she was t<» do unring
lilt alm«n(!e, one of which was always to
carry tho .Saturday's bouquet to his fiitlicr's
grave. Tins practice Rogt-r had k<'|.t up
ever since his father died, taking the tlow.r.H
iiiiiiHelf when he was at h^niH, ami leaving
orders for Hester to see that they were sent
when he was away. .Magdalen, who had tre-
(luently l>oen with hiin to the graveyard,
knew that the .It'Si'ie whose name was on tho
iiiarblo was buried in the sea, for l.'o^er had
told her of the burning shir, and the beauti-
fill woman who went down witti it. And
with hor shrewd |»cr(!eptions. .Ma.'dalen hivd
guessed that tho Howers otFered weekly to
tho fiead were mr»re for the mother, who w.as
not there, than for the father, who was.
And after R.iger went away she adonted the
plan of taking with her two bompietx, one
large anil beautiful for .JeHsio, and a sni dlor
one for the old squire, whose picture on
the library wall she did not alt(»gother
fancy.

A visit to tho cemetery was always ono of
the duties of Saturday, and toward the mid-
dle of the afternoon, on a bright day in July.
Magdalen started as usual with her liasketof
(lowers on her arm. She liked going 'o that
little yard.wliere the shadows from tlie ever-
greens fell so softly upon the grass, and tho
white rose bush which Roger had ])l;inted
was climbing up tiie tall monumfiif and
shedding its sweet perfume on the air. The;e
was an iron chair in the yard, where Miitfda-
leii sat down, and divestim.' herself of her
slioes and stockings, cooled her ba»-e feet on
the grass ami hummed snatdies of songs
learned from Frank, who aff-ctt'il co ])Iay
the guitar and acompany it with his voice.
And while nhe is sitting there we will give a
pen-and- nk photograph of her as she was at
twelve years of acre. A straight, lithe littlo
figure, ^ with heal set so erect upfin her
shoulders that it leaned back rather than fur-

MILLBANK ; OR,

• !,

ward. A full, round face, with featu r
very regular, except the nose, which ha d
slight inclination upward, and which Frank
tea8inj;ly called " a turn-up." Masses of
dark liair, which neither curled nor lay
straight upon the well-shaped head, but rip-
pled in soft waves all over it, and was kept
short in the neck by Hester, who " don't be-
lieve mucli in hair," and who often deplored
Magdalen's " heavy mop," until the child
was old enough to attend to it herself. A
clear, brown complexion, with a rich, health-
ful tint on cheek and lip, and a fairer,lighter
colouring upon the low, wide foreliead ; dark,
hazel eyes, which, under strong excitement,
would grow black as night and Hash forth
Hery gUjiims, but wliich ordinarily were pott
and mild and bright, as the starit to which
Frank likfiied them. The eyes were tlie
strongest points in Magdalen's face, atid
made Jier very haudso.ie in spite of the oiii-
landisli dress in which Hester always ar-
rayed her, and the rather awkward
manutr in which she carried her hands
and elbiws. Hester ignored fashions.
If Magdalen was only clean and neat,
that was all she thought necessary,
and slio put the chihl in clothes old
enough for herself, and^Frank often ridiculed
the queerdooking dresses buttoned up be-
fore, and far too lonij for a /^irl of Magdalen's
age.

Except for Frank's teasing remark", Maw ■
f^alen would have cared very little for he.
personal appearance, and as he was in New
Haven now she was having a nice time alone
in the ciimetery, with her shoes and stock-
ings off to cool her feet, and her boimet otF
to cool her head, round which her short,
damp hair was curling more tiian usual. She
was thinking of Jessie, and wondering how
she happened to be on the ocean, and where
she was going, and she did not at first see a
stranger coming down the walk in the direc-
tion of the yard where she was sitting. He
was apparently between tifty ami sixty, for i
his hair was very gray, and there were deep- '
cut lines al)out his eyes and mouth ; but he j
was very tine-looking still, and a man to be
noticed and commented upon among a thou-
sand.

Ho was coming directly to Sijuirt Irving's I
lot, where he stood a moment with his haad
np<m the iron fence before Magdalen saw
him. With a blush and a start she sprung ■
up, an<l tried, by bending her knees, to make ;
her dress cover iier bare feet, which, nevei- j
theless, were plainly visible, as she modestly
answered tlin stranger's questions.

"Good iifteruoon, Miss,'" lie said, touch- '
ing his hat to her as politely as if she ii.id
been a princes-", insteail of a barefooted girl.
" You havtJ chosen a novel bat very pfeasant

place for an afternoon reverie. Whose yard
is this, and whose little girl are you ? "

"I'amMr. Roger's little girl, and tliis is
Squire Irving's lot. That's his nioniiinent,"
Magdalen replied ; and at the sound of her
voice and the lifting up of lur e}es the
stranger looked curiously at her.

'* What is \our name, and wliat are you
doing here ? " he jiskiid In^r next ; and she
replied, " I came with Uowers for the grave.
I bring them every ^^aturday, and iny name
is Magdalen,"

This time the stranger sdirted, and with-
out waiting to go round to the j.ate, sprang
over the iron fence and came to Magdalen's
side.

"Magdalen whom?" lie asked. "Mag-
dalen IkOgers ? "

"No, sir. Magdalen Lennox. I haven't
any father nor mother, and I live up at Mill-
t»ank. You can just see it tlirough tho
trees. Squire Irving used to live there, but
since he die<l it bchmgs to Mr. lioger. and he
has gone to Europe, and told me to bring
flowers every Saturday to the graves. That's
his father, she continued, pi iiting to the
hquire's name," "and that," pointing to
Jessie's name, "is his mother; only hlie is
not here, you know. She dieil on the nea."

If the stranger had not beiii interested
before, he was now, and he went close to the
stone where Jessie's name was cut, and
stood there for a moment without saying a
word to the little girl at his side. His back
was toward her, and she could not see his
fa :e until he turned to her .tirain, and said —

" And you live there at Mi Ihank, where —
where Mrs. Irving did. You certainly couhl
not have been there when she died ':"

Magdalen coloured scarlet, ami .^tooil stal-
ing at him with those bright, restless, ea^er
eyes, which puzzled ami perplexed 1> iii. Sim
had heard from Hester some of the j);irtiou-
lars of h.r early life, while fr<ni ler \ oung
girl friends she had heard ;.• greiit d-'al rnoro
which distre'<sed and worried her, .ml sent;
her at last to linger for an explanation. .-\nd
Roger, thinking it was best to do .^o, had
told her the whole truth, ami uivoti into her
keeping the locket which siie had worn
about her neck, and the dress in which she
came to Millbank. She was old enough to
understand in part her true position, and she
was very sensitive with regard to her early
history. That tlere was sometliing wrong
about both her parents, she knew ; but still
t'lere was a warm, tender spot in her heart
for her mother, who, Roger had saiil, bent
over her with a kiss and a few whispered
words of afl'cetiou, ere aliandoning her in the
cars. Magdalen could sometimes feel that kiss
upon her cheek and see the restless, burning
eyes which Rogor described so minutely.

..i

ROGER IVING'S WARD.

I. Whose yard
ire you ? "
irl, and tliia is
lis iiioiiuiiieiit,"
10 sound of her
f lnr tjes the
itw.

I wiiiit are jou

next ; and she

s for the grave.

, and my name

rteil, and with-
in- >.ate, sprang
to .Magdaleu'a

asked. " Mag-

nox. I haven't

live up at Mill-
it tlirough the

live tliere, hut
Koger. and he
hi me to bring
3 graves. That's
ji i;iting to the
pointing to
er ; only she is

I on tlu! titM. "
letn interested

ent closij to the

was cut, and
tliout saying a
bide. J lis hack
)uld noc sie his
S>Uii, antl said —
.ll)ank, where —

certainly uouhl
e died ?"

ami stixid star-
,, restlt-.!>s, eauer
lexed 1) Pi. SIi«

ot thi- j);irt,iou-
fnin 1 ei \(»iing
^'rent d-'al mores
■d her, ,u)-.l sunt
(lanation. and

to do so, had
1 izivon into iier
siie had worn
s in which she
H old enougli to
osition, and she
d to her early
imetiiing wrong
cnew ; hut still
ot in her heart
had said, heut
, few whispered
)ning her in the
les feel that kiss
est] ess, burning
1 so minutely.

There was a look like them in her own eyes
and she was glad of it, and glad her hair
was dark an<i glossy, as Roger said her
mother's was. She m as proud to look like
her mother ; though she was not proud o/
her mother, and she never inentione<l her to
any one save Roger, or alluded to the time
when she liad been deserted. So when the
stranger's words seemed to ask how long she
had been at Millbank, shejiesitated, and at
last replied :

"Of course I was not born when Mrs.
Irving died. I'm only twelve years old. I
was a poor little giil, with nobody to care for
me, and Mr. Roger took me to live v .th
him. He is not very ohl, though. He is
only twenty-six ; and his nephew Frank is
twenty-one in August."

The stranger smiled upon the quaint, old-
fashioned little girl, whose eyes, fastened
BO curiously upon him, made hiai slightly un-
easy.

"Magdalen," he said at last, but more as
if speaking to himself and repeatirig a name
which had once been familiar to liim.

" What, sir ? " was Magtlalen's reply,
which recalled him back to the present.

He must say something to her, and so he
asked :

" Who gave you the name of Magdalen ?
It is a very pretty name."

There was a suavity and winning gracious-
iiess in his manner, which, young as she was
Magibden felt, an<l it inclined her to be more
familiar and communicative tlian she would
otherwise liave been to a stranger.

" Id was Aer second name,"blie said, touch-
ing the word Jessie on the marble. " And
Mr. Roger gave ittc me when I went to live
with him."

"Then you were named for Mrs, Irving?
and the stranger involuntarily drew a step
nearer to the little girl, on whose hair his
hand rested for a moment. '' Do they talk
much of her at M illbank 't "

"No; nobody but Mr. Ri>ger when he is
at home. Her picture is in the library, and
1 think it is 8'> lovely, with the pearls on her
neck and arms, and the flowers in her hair.
She must have been beantiful."

" Vee, very licautiful," fcdl mechanically
from the stranger's lips; and Magtlalen a.sked
in some surprise, " Did you know her,
sir?"

" I judge from your description," was the
reply; and then he asked " if the flowers
were for Mrs. Irving ? "

" Tlie large bouqnet is. I always make a
difference, because 1 think Mr. Roger loved
her l>est," Magdalen said.

Just then there came across the fields the
sound of the village clock striking the hour
of five, and Magdalen started, exclaiming,

" I can't go now ; Hester w ill be looking for
me."

The straiiger saw litr anxious glance at her
stockings an.l shoes, and thoughtfully turn-
ed his back while she gathered them up and
thrust them into her basket.

" You'd l)etter }int them on," ho said,
when he saw the di.spnsition she had made
of them. " The gravel stones will hurt your
feet, and there may be thistles, too."

He eeenied very kind indeed, and walked
to another inclusiire, while Magdalen put ou
her stockings and shoes and then arose to go.
She tliought he wotdd accompany her as far
as the highway, sure, and began to feel a
little elated at the prospect of being seen in
company with so fine a gentleman by old
Bettie, tiie gate keeper, and her granddaugh-
ter Lottie. Rut he was in no hurry to leave
the spot.

"Tiiis is a >ery pretty ci^metery ; I be-
lieve I will walk about a little,'' he -aid,
as he saw the girl seemed to be waiting for
him.

Magitalen knew this was intended as a
dismissal, and walked rapidly away. Rankl-
ing at the stile over which she jiassed into
the street, slie looked back and saw the
stranger, — not walking about tiie grounds,
but standing by the monument and appar-
ently leaning his liead upon it. Had slie pass-
ed that pla(;e an hnur later, shc! would have
missed frnmitsciipof water the largestbotiuet,
the oen she had brougnt for Mrs. Irving, and
would have missed, ti)o, tiie half open rose
which hung very near Jessie's name. But
she would have charged the theft to the
children by the gate, who sometinus did
rob the grave of flowers, and not to the
splendid-looking man with the big gold
chain, who had spoken so kindly to her, and
of whom her head was full as she went back
to Millbank, where she was met by Hester
with an open letter in her hand, bearing a
foreign postmark.

CHAPTER IX.

A STIK AT MILLIiANK.

The letter was from Roger, and in her
eagerness to hear from him, .Magdalen forgot
the stranger who had asked so many ques-
tions.

Roger was in Dresden, and very well ;
but iiis letter did not relate so mucli to him-
self and his journeyings as to matters at
home. Frank, who had visited Millbank in
April, had written to Roger a not very satis-
factory account oi Hester's management of
Magdalen.

" The girls is growing ujt a perfect Hottep-
tot, with no more manners or style than

MILLBANK ; OR,

1 1^

Dame Floyd herself ; and it seems a pity,
when she is so bright and capable and hand-
some, anil mii^ht with proper training make
a splendid woman. But what can you ex-
pect of her, brought up by that superannuated
Hester, who keeps her in the most out-
landish clothes I ever saw, and lets her go
barefoot half the time, till her feet are
spreading so, that after a little they will be
as flat and broad as a mackerel. Besides
that, I S1W her trying to milk, which you
know will spoil her hands sooner than any-
thing else in creation. My advice is that
you 8e<id her to school, say here to New
Haven, if you like. Mrs. Dana's is a splen-
did school for young ladies. I would write
at once to Mrs. Floyd if I wore you. And,
Roger, for thunder's sake, tell her to let Mrs.
Johnson or her daughter see to Maggie's
wardrobe. She would be the laughing-stock
of the town if she were to come here rigged
out a la F/'oi/iL "

This and much more Frank had written
to Roger, who, in a milder form, wrote it
back to Ho-iter, t-lling her that Magdalen
must go away, and suggesting New Haven
as a ])roper place where to send her.

Hester was a very little indignant when
she read this letter, which, without directly
charging her with neglect, still implied that
in some things concerning Magdalen she
had been remiss, and to Bessie, the house-
maid, she was freoing her mind pretty
thoroughly when Magdalen came in and
began to question h«r eagerly with regard to
Roger, and to ask if the letter was for
her.

"No,-' Hester replied, "but it's about
you. I'm too old fashioned to bring you up
any longer, and you've got to be sent away.
The district eeliool ain't good enough, and
you are to co to New Haven and learn
manners, ami not go barefoot, nor milk, and
put your feet and hands out of shape.
Haven't I told you forty times, Magdalen
Lennox, to p'tton your shoes?"

"Yes, fifty," Magdalen replied, in that
peculiar winning way which she had of con-
ciliating Hester wtien in one of her quer-
ulous moods. " What is it about about my
hands and feet. Let me see."

And coining close to Hester, she laid one
hand soothingly on the old woman's shoulder,
and with the other took Ro^^er's letter,
which she read through from beginning to
end ; then, with a passionate exclamation,
she threw it from her, saying :

" It is Frank who put Mr. Rog^r up to
this. I wou't go away from Millbank to
horrid old New Hiven, where the girls sit.
and walk, and act just so, with their elbows
in and Mieir toes out. I hate New Haven,
I hate Frank, I hate everybody but you."

Maj-dalen's eyes were flashing, and her
hand deepened its grasp on Hester, who
cast upon the young girl a look wliich
told how full of love her old heart was for
the child whom she hid cared for and watch-
ed over since the night she first came to .Mill-
bank. No one could live with Migli-
len and not love,her. (Jenerous, outs|;r,lien,
and wholly truthful, warm-hearted and play-
ful as a kitten, she had wound herself around
every fibre of Hester's heart, until the wo-
man hardly knew which was dearer to her —
M igdalen or Roger. She would miss the
former most. Millbank would be verv lonely
without those busy little bare feet of which
Roger disapproved, and that blithe, merry
voice which filled the house with midody.
And it was partly a dread of the lonelmess
which Magdalt'n's absence would leave
which prompted Hester to suoh an outburst
as had followed the r sading of Roger's letter;
and when Magdalen took up the theme, ve-
hemently declaring she would never so to
New Haven, Hestnr felt a thrill of joy and
pride in the girl who preferred her to New
Haven and its stylish young ladies.

Her Si >erer second thoughts, however,
were that Roger's wishes wjnld have to be
considered, and Magdalen be obliged to
yield. But Magdaleu thought differently,
and persisted in saying she w<mld never go
to New Haven, and sul>ject herself to criti-
cism of that Alicp Grey, about whom Frank
had talked so much on his last visit to Mill-
bank.

He had only stayed a day or two, and
Magdalen had thought him changed, and, as
she fancied, not for the better. He had al-
ways teased her about her grandmotherly
garb, but his teasings this time were
more like earnest criticisms, and he was
never tired of hoMing up Alicp. Gren as a
moilel for all young girls to imitate. She
was very pretty, he said, with sort blue eyes
and rice brown hair, which was almost achest-
nut.and she had such graceful, lady-like man-
ners, that all the college boys were more in
love with her — a little maiden of fourteen
— than with the older young ladies in Miss
Uana 8 school.

Heretofore, when Frank had visited Mill-
bank, Magdalen had been all in all, and she
resented his frequent allusion to one whom
he seemed to consider so superior to herself,
and felt relieved when he went back to his
Alice, with her chestnut hair, and her soft
blue eyes, and waxdike complexion

Magdalen hated her own dark skin for a
little after that, and taught, by Bessie, tried
what frequent washings in buttermilk would
do for it ; but Hester's nose, which had a
most remarkable knack for detecting smells
eveu where none existed, soon ferreted out

llii <ul I

EOGEll IRVING'S WARD.

hine, anl her
Hester, who
look wliich
leart Wivs for
for and watch-
tcaine to Mill-
with Miijli-
118, outspf/ken,
irtefl and play
herself around
until the wo-
learer to her —
)uld miss the
he verv lonely
feet of which
blithe, merry
with mi^lody.
the loneliness
would leave
;h an outburst
Roster's letter;
[le theme, ve-

I never eo to

II of joy and
her to New

idies.

its, however,
d have to be
i)e obliged to
ht differently,
Duld never go
erself to criti-
whoin Frank
t visit to Min-
or two, and
lauged, and, aa
He had al-
[^randrnotherly
i time were
and he was
■e Greif as a
imitate. She
sot't blue eyes
almost aijhest-
lady-like man-
were more in
sn of fourteen
[idles in Miss

\ visited Mill-
in all, ami she
to one whom
rior to herself,
it back to his
, and her soft
exion

irk skin for a
ly Bessie, tried
Stermilk would
, which had a
itectins^ smells
a ferreted out

the hidden jar containing Maedalen'» cos-
metic, and all hopes of d complexion like
Alice (iiey's were swept away with the but-
termilk, winch the remorseless Hester threw
into t]^e pip-pen as its most fitting piaffe.
After a while the fever subsided, and Alice
Grey censed to trouble Magdalen until she
was btou^ht to mind by Uoger's letter.

That hIio would not go to New Haven.
Ma(;dalen was resolved. If Roger wanted
her to try some oUier school, she would, she
said, but New Haven wns not, to be consider-
ed for a moment ; and so Hester wrote to
lloger an aocimnt of the manner with which
his pr luosition had been received, and ask-
ed him to suggest some other school for his
ward.

In her excitement MagdnL-n had entirelv
forgotten the stranger in the churchvard,
nor was he recalled to her mind until the
next day, when, with Hester Floyd, she walk-
ed demurely to the little church where she
was in the habit of worshipping. It was a
beautiful morning, and the .lir wjis laden
with the sweet perfume of the clover blos-
soms and the new-mown hay, and Magdalen
looked unusually bright and pretty in her
light French calico and little white sack,
M'hich the villasic dressmaker had mads, and
which bore a m'ne modern stamp thnn was
usual to Hester's handiwork. Her shoes
and stockings were all right this time, and
her hands were < r.iased in a pair of cotton
gloves, wliith, though a deal to large,
were nevertheless gloves, and kept
her hands from tanning. And

Magdalen, with her p-ayer book and
spng of carawav, felt very nice as she went
up the aisle to Squire Irving's pew, where, in
imitatioii of Hester, she drotiped on her knees
and said her few words of prayer while her
thoughts were running upon the gentleman in
front, the stranger of the graveyard, who
turned his head as she came in with a half
nod of recog itinn.

He l-ieenied very devout as the service
proceeded, and never had Magdalen heard
any (mc respond so loud in the Psalter, or
seen any one bow so low in the Creed as he
did ; while in the chants and psalms he al-
most drowned the choir itself, as his head
went up and back as if it were allowing his
spirit, which, jmlging from his manner, was
borne alin ist to Pisgah's top.

" He must be an awful pio!is man, I
shouldn't wonder if he was a minister, and
should preach this evening,'* Magdalen
thought as she watched him, and, awed
somewhat by his presence, she let her peo-
permint lozenges stay in her pocket, and only
nibbled a little nt the sprig of caraway
wlif n sure he would not see her.

She did not know that he had noticed her

at all after the first gbince of recognition,
until the last chant, when her clear, sweet
voice joined in the siu'ring, making him pause
a moment to listen, while a look of phased
surprise came into his face as he turned to-
ward her,

Hp had not sren Hester distinctly, for
she was behiml him ; hut Hester saw him,
and pronounced him some •' star.died-up citv
buck," an<l thought his coat too short for so
old a man. ami his neck too big and red.

" .Test the chap she wouldn't want to have
much to do with," was her comment, and
his loud "Good Lord deliver ns" sounded to
the shrewd old woman like mockery, for she
did not believe he felt it a bit.

Hester did not like the stranger's ap-
pearance, but she wondered who he was. and
when church was out, and she was walking
down the street with her|nipce, who kept the
public house, she spnke of liim. and learned
that he was stopping at the Montauk, as the
little hotel was named. He came about
noon the pievions day, Martha said : had
called for their best room ■an<l drnnk wine
with his dinner, and smokeil a sight of cigars,
and had a brand v sling sent up to him in the
evening. She did not remember his name,
and she guessed he must have a "reat deal
of money from his appearance. He was go-
ing to New York in the night train, and that
was all she knew. Hester made tin special
remark, and as they iust then renoh^xl the
cross-roads where t'leir paths ('i ■ p ed, she
bade her niece good-day, and walked on to-
wards Millbank.

Meantime, Magdalen was reciting her Sun-
day-school lesson, and finishiifg her cnr.-xway
and lozenges, and telling her companions
that she was going away to school by and
bye, as Mr. Roger wrote she must. The
school question did not seem as formidable
to day as yesterday. Miss Nellie Johnson,
who represented the first young ladv in the
town, had been to Charles^own .Seminary,
and so had Mr. Fullerton's daughters and
Lilian Marsh, who nas an orphan and an
heiress. On the whole. .Magdalen had como
to think it v.ould set her up a little to go
away, and she talked quite complacently
about it, and said she guessed it would be
to Charlestown, where Miss Johnson had
been graduated ; but she made no mention
of New Haven or Alice Grey, though the
latter was in her mind when she s.nng the
closing hymn, and went out of the church
into the beautiful sunshine. The dav was so
fine, and the air so clear, that Magdalen
thought to prolong her walk by going round
by the gravevard, as she sometimes did on
a Sunday. The qiiet, shadcl spot where
Squire Irving was buried just suited her Sun-
day moods, and she would far rather lie there

:(,!(

MILLBANK ; OR,

■';!<

(leii(»te<i tli.'it he was
(lid not think, it juit

on the grass, than ait in the kitclieu at
Millhiink, anil recite her catiichi.sin to Hester
or read a Hcrinon to Aleck, wliose ejes were
growin<,' (liiu.

It Wduld ■jt'cin that another than herself
likelthr ■'khIow of the cveitiieens atid the
seclusion ot Scjiiiie Irving'.s lot, for p.s Magda-
len drciW near the ^ute, she saw the figure of
a man reclininu upon the grass, wliile a
feathery ring whi^h curled up among the
brandies of the trees
smoking. Magdalen

the thing to smoke there among the giavis,
and tiie atraiis:er fell a little in iier estima-
tion; for it tcd.'i tlio stranuer, and lie arose at
once, and liade Magdalen good-afternoon,
and called her Miss Roijvrs, as if lie thought
that was her name.

" I find this place cocder than my hot
room at the Montauk," he said ; and then
he spoke of having seen her at church, and
asked who taught her to sing.

" Mr. Roger," she replieil. He used to
sing with me before he went away. He has
a splendid voice, and is a splendid scholar
too."

And then, as that reminded her of New
Haven and Alice Grey, she continued : " We
heard from Mr. Roger yesterday, and he said
I was to go to sclio(d in New Haven, but I
don't want to go there a bit."

"Why not?" the stranger asked ; and
Magdalen replied :

" Oh, because I don't. Fraidc is there, and
he told nie so nmcli about a Miss .Alice Grey,
and wants me to be like her ; and I can't, and
I don't wont to know her, for she woultl
laugh at me and 1 should be sure to hate
her."

*' Hate Alice ! Impos^sible !" dropped in-
volunta ily from the stranger's lips, and turn-
ing upon him her bright eyes, Magdalen
said : —

" Do you know Frank's Alice Grey ?"
" I know one Alice Grey, but wliether it
8 Frank's Alice, I cannot tell. I should
devoutly hope not," was the stranger's an-
swer ; an I Magdalen noticed that there was a
disturlted look on his face, and that he forgot
to resume his cigar, which liy awhile smoul-
dering in the grass, and riiially went out.

He did not seem disposed to talk much
after that, and Magdalen kept very quiet,
wondering who he was, until her attention
was suddenly diverted into another channel
by noticing, for the first time, the absence of
the bou(|uet which she had brought the day
before ami left upon the grave.

" Somel'ody has st.(de my flowers ! I'll bet
it's Jim Bartlett. He's always doing some-
thing bad," she exclaimed, and sHe searched
among the grass for the missing bouquet.
The stranger helped her hunt, and not

finding it, said he presumed some one had
taken it — that Jim was a i)ad boy to steal,
Magdalen must talk to him and teach him
the eighth commandment. Anxious to con-
fnmt and accuse the thieving Jim, .M^igdalen
left the graveyard, and was soon engaged in
a hot battle with the boy, who denied all
knowledge of the flowers, dectlaring he had
not been in the yard for a week, and throw-
ing tufts of grass and gravel-stones after her
as she finally left him and walked away,
wondering, if Jim did not take the flowers,
who did. She never drepmed of suspecting
the stranger, or guessed that when he left
Belvidere there was in one corn«r of his
satchel the veritable bouquet which she had
arranged in memory of poor Jessie, or that
the sight of those faded flowers hail touched
a tender chcd in his heart, and made him
for several days kinder and gentler to a poor,
worn, weary invalid, whom notliingin all the
world had power to quiet or soothe.

CHAPTER X.

FRANK AT MILLBANK.

Four days later Magdalen received a letter
from Frank, who was inconsolable. Alice
Grey had left school suddenly, without giv-
ing him a chance to say good-bye. Why she
had gone or where, he (lid not know. He
only knew she was gone, and that he thought
college a bore, and New Haven a stupid
place, and was mighty glad that vacation was
so close at haml, as he wanted to come up to
Millbank and fish again in the river.

"I think he might just as well spend a
part of his time at home as to be lazin' 'round
here for me to wait on," Hester said, when
Magdalen communicated the news of Frank's
projected visi; to her.
1 Hester did not favour Frank's frequent
visits to Millbank. They made her too
much work ; for what with opening the
dining-room and bringing out the silver, and
getting extra meals, and seeing to his sleeping
oom, and ironing his seven Hue shirts
every week, with as many collars and pairs
of socks, to say nothing of linen coats and
pants, and white vests, she had her own
and Bessie's hands quite full.

"Then, too, Magdalen was jest good for
nothin' when he was there," she said, "and
made a deal more work ; for, of course, she
must eat with the young gentleman instead
of out in the kitchen, as was her custom
when they were alone ; and it took more
time to cook for two tlian one."

Of Hester's opinion Frank knew nothing,
and he came to Milll)ank one delightful
morning „f ter a heavy shower of the previous
night, when t^e air was pure and sweet with
the scent of the grass just cut on the lawn,

llll^"'..,.

ROGE IRVING'S WARD.

1 some one had
il boy to steal,

anil teucli him
Anxious to con-
; Jim, Mjigdalen
goon engaged in
who denied all
edarinj; he had
eek, and throw-
stones after her
1 walked away,
ake the flowers,
led of suspecting
at when he left
me corner of hia
t which she had
)r Jessie, or that
I'ers had touched
t, and made him
jenthr to a poor,
lotiiing in all the

sootlie.

SANK.

I leceived a letter
)nsolable. Alice
nly, without giv
1-bye. Why she

not know. He
d that bethought

Haven a stupid
that vacation was
;e(l to come up to
he river.

as well spend a
,o be lazin' 'round

ister aaid, when
B news of Frank's

Frank's frequent
sy made her too
ith opening the
lit the silver, and
ingtohis sleeping
iven tine shirts
jollara and pairs

linen coats and
e had her own
11.

vaa jest good for
she said, " and
r, of course, she
entleman instead

was her custom
il it took more
hne."

k knew nothing,
k one delightful
ler of the previous
re and sweet with
cut on the lawn.

and the perfume of the Howera blooming in
such prolusion m the garvleu. Millbank was
beautiful to the tiretl, lazy young college stu-
dent, who hated books and tutors and rules,
and early recitations, and was glad to getaway
irom tliom all and revel awlnle at Millbank.
He felt perfectly at home there, and always
called tor what he wanted, and ordered the
servants with as much assurance as if he
had been the master. He had not forgot-
ten al>out the will. He understood it far
better now tliati he had done when, a little
white-haired boy, he hilgeted at his mother's ;
side and longed to go back to the baby in '
the candle- l)ux. He had heard every par- :
ticular many a time from his mother, who
still adhered to her olden belief that there '
was anotlier will which, if not destroyed,
would one day be fouud. j

"1 wish it would liurry up, then," Frank
had sometimes said, tor with his expensive
habits, tour hundred dollars a year seemed a
very paltry sum,

lu Ills wisn that "it would hurry up," he
intended uo tiaim to Roger. Frank was not
often guilty of reasoning or thinking very
deeply about anything, and it did not occur
to him how disasDroualy the tiudiug of the
will which gave him Millbank would result
for Koger. He only knew that he wanted
money, and unconsciously to himself had
formed a liabit of occasionally wondering if
the missing will ever would be found, 'i'liis
was plways in >iew York or New Haven,
wlieu he wanted something beyond his means
or had some old debt to pay. At Millbank,
where lie was free from care, with his debts
in tiie distance and plenty of servants and
liorses at Ins command, he did not often
ttiink of tlie will, tiiough the possibility that
there was one might iiave added a little to
his assured manner, which was far more like
one wlio had a right to command than
Roger's hail ever been.

Magdalen was waiting for him by the gate
at the end of the avenue, on the ^afternoon
when with his carpet-bag in hand, he came
leisurely up the street from the depot,
thinking as lie came how beautiful the Mill-
bank grounds were looking, and what a
"lucky dog" Roger was to have stepped
into so fair an iulieritance without any ex-
ertion of his own. And witii these thoughts
came a remembrance of the will, and Frank
be^au to plan what he would do if it should
ever be louiid. He would share equally
with Roger, he said. He would not stint
him to tour hundred a year. He would let
lain live at Millbank just the same, and
Magdalen, too, provided his mother did not
raise too many objections ; and that remind-
ed biiu of wtiat his mottier liad said to him
that morning as he sat, breakfasting with

her, in the same little room whore we first
saw her

Mrs. Walter Scott had not been in a v«ry
amiable mood when she came down to
breakfast that morning. Kleveu years
of the wear and tear of fashionable life had
changed her from the fair, smooth-faced
woman of twenty-eight into a rather faded
woman of thirty-nine, who ctill had some
pretensions to beauty, but who found that
she did not attract quite so mu.h Jitteiition
as she used to ilo a few years a^^o, w lien she
was younger, and PVank was not so tall,
and (.0 tearful a proof that her youthful d.ays
were in the past. Her hair still fell in long,
limp curls aliout her face, but part of its
brightness and luxuriance was gone, and
this morning, as slie arranged it in a strong-
er light than usual, she discovered to her
horror more than one wiiitoiiair showing here
and there among the brown, and warning
her that middle age was creeping on while
the same strong light showed her how lines
were deepening across her forehead and
about her eyes, etl'ects more of c' -aiation
and late hours than of Father Tir , Mis.
Walter Scott did not like to grow old and
gray and ugly and poor with all the rest,
as she felt that she was doing. Her house
in Lexington Avenue could only afford her a
shelter. It would not feed or clotiie her, or
pay her bills at Saratoga or Long Branch or
Newport. Neither would the interest of the
ten thousand dollars given her by Squire
L>-ving, and she had long ago b«^'uu to use
the principal, and had nothing to rely on
when that was gone except Roger's generosi-
ty, ani the po3sd)ility of the lost will turn-
ing up at last. She was wanting to go to
Long Branch this summer ; her ilear friends
were all going, and had urged her to join
them, but her account at the bank was tQ«
low to admit of that, and yesterday slie had
given her hiial answer, and seen the last of
tier set depart without her. She iiad not
hinted to them the reason for her refusal to
join them. She had said she did not care
for Long Branch, and when thoy exclaimed
against ner remaining in the tlusty city, she
had mentioned Millbank and the possibility
of her going there for the month of August.
She did not really mean it ;
but when Frank wtio had only
been home from college three days, told her
at the breakfast tal)le that he was going to
Millbank after pure air, and rich sweet
cream, which was a weakness of his, she felt
a longing to go, too — a desire for the cool
house and pleasant grounds, to say nothing of
the luxuries whicli were to be had therein so
great abundance. But since the morning of
her departure from Millbank she had re-
ceived no invitation to cross its threshold,

mmmmmtmtk0^tM

MILLBANK ; OR,

.1 -'1

' I I

l:i I

and hud nut suou llo^er over half-a-dozea
tiineM. lie t(;lt tliut Hliu disliKed him, aud
kepL (jut (.t iier way, atopping alwiiys at a
iiuLtil whun 111 Saw ioik, instead ut i^oiug to
Lvr huu»ti on Ltxiiigtun Avenue, lie had
called there, however, and taken tea the
day hefoie he sailed tor Kurope, . and iVlre.
Waiter buott remeuiljurea with pieauure that
bIiu had Uccn very allablu oii tnat occasion,
and presaed hun to spend the night. JSurely,
after that, bhu niigtit venture to iViiUbauk,
and ahe hinted as much to i^'rank, who would
rather she sliould stay where she was. iSut
he was uoc quite unuliai enough to say so.
iie only bug^ested that an invitation trom
the proper authorities might be desirable be-
fore sliu took so bold a slep.

"ion used to suub iioger awfully," he
said ; " and it he was like anybody else, lie
woukln't lorget it in a hurry ; but then lie
isn't like anybody else. iie's the beat-
hearted ana most generous chap I ever
knew."

"(jeneroua 1" Mrs. V\ alter Scott repeated,
with a tinge of sarcasm in her voice.

" ies, geueious," said i^Vank. "'He has
always allowed me more ttiuu the will said
he must, and he's iielped me out of more
than forty scrapes, i say, again, he's the
most generous Chap I ever knew."

*' 1 nope he will proTe it in a few weeks,
when you are of age, by giving you more
than that live thousand named in the will,"
was Mrs. Waller 8cott'a next remark.
"iVank," — and she lowered lier voice lest
the walls should hear and report — " we are
poor, i'his house aud three thousand dollars
are all we have in the world ; and uuleas
lioger does something hanasome for you,
there is no alietuative tor us but to mortgage
the house, or sell it, and acknowledge our
poverty to the world. 1 have sola your
lather s watch aud his diamond cross."

" Mother ! ' Frank exclaimed, hia tone in-
dicative of las surpiise ami indignation.

•'1 had to pay Uridgct s wages, and de-
fray the expense of that little party 1 gave
last winter," was the lady's apology, to
which I'rank responded : —

'* (Joufound your party ! People as poor
as we are have no businesa with parties.
iSell father's watch ! aud 1 was intending to
claim it myself when 1 came of age. It's too
bad 1 You'll be selling me next ! I'll be
hanged if it isn't deuced inconvenient to be
BO poor ! 1 mean to go to Millbank and
Btay. I'm seldom troubled with the blues
when there."

*• I wish you could get me an invitation to
go there, too," Mrs. Walter 8cott said. "It
wUl look BO queer to stay in the city all sum-
mer, as I am likely to do. 1 should suppose
Roger would want sumebudy beaided old

Heater to look after Magdalen. She must be
a large uiri now. "

It waa the first sign of interest Mrs.
Walter Scott had show n in Magdalen, and
i^'rauk, who liked the girl, followed it up by
expatiating upon her good qualities, telling
how bright and smart she was, and how
handsome she would be if only she could be
dresaeil decently. Then he told her of
l{oger's intention to aend her to school, and
altera few more remarks arose from the table
aud began his preparations for Millbank.
Frank was usually very light-hearteil and
hopeiul, but there was a weight on hia
spirits, and his face wore a gloomy look all
the way from New York to llartt'ord. But
it becrau to clear as Millbank drew near.
There was his Eldorado, aud by the time the
station waa reached, he had forgotten the
impending mortgage, and his father's watch,
and his own poverty. it all came back,
however, with a thought of the will, and he
tound himself wishing mo.-t devoutly that
the missing document could be found, or else
that iioger would do the handsome thing,
and come down with a few thousands on his
twenty-rirat birthday, now only three weeks
in the distance. The sight of Magdalen,
however, in her new white ruffled apron, with
her hair curling in rings about her head, aud
her great round eyes dancing with joy, di-
verted his mind from Roger aud the will,aud
scattered the blues at once.

'• Oh, Mag, is that you ?"
coming quickly to her side,
aud pretty you look !"

Aud the tall young man
kiss the little girl, who waa very t^lad to see
him, and who told him how dull it had been
at iVl ill bank, and how Aleck said there was
good tishing now in the Creek, and a great
many squirrels in the woods, though she did
not want to kill them, aud that he was going
to have the blue room instead of his old one,
which was damp from a leak around the
chminey ; that she had put lots of flowers in
it, aud a photograph ot herself, in a little
frame made of twigs. This last she had
meant to keep a secret, and suiprioe the
young man, wuo was sure to be so delighted.
tiui sue had let it out, and she rattled on
about it, till the house waa reached, aud
i^'rank stood in the blue room, where the
wonderful picture was.

" Here, Frank, thia is it. This is me ; "
and she directed his attention at once to the
picture of herself, sitting up very stiff and
pnm, with mitts on her iiands, and Heater's
best collar pinned around her high-necked
dresa, and Beasie's handkerchief, trimmed
with cotton lace, fastened conspicuously at
her belt.

Frank laughed a loud, hearty laugh, which

he exclaimed,
" How bright

bent down to

as
w

Hfc

th<
an
sta
fee
wt

ROGER IRVING'S WARD.

n. She must be

interest Mrs.
Magiialen, and
)llowed It up by
[{ualitieB, telling

was, and how
nly she could be
lie told her of
ur to school, and
iti from the table
i for Millbauk.
ht-hearted and
, weight on hia
gloomy look all

Hartford. But
,nk drew near.
I by the time ttie
id t'orgotteu the
j father's watch,
; all came back,
f the will, aud he
t devoutly that

be found, or else
baudsoiiio thing,
tliousauds ou his
iii\y three weeks
it of Magdalen,
ufflcd apruUjWith
jut her head, aud
ig with joy, di-

aud the will.aud

I" he exclaimed,
" How bright

in bent down to
3 very ylad to see
f dull it had been
k said theio was
iek, and a great
la, though she did
that he was going
iad of his oUi one,
leak around the
t lota of dowers in
lierself, lu a little
.'his last she had
aud buiprioe the
to be so ilciigtited.
i she rattled on
w'as readied, and
s room, where the

it. This is me ; "
ition at once to the
; up very stiff aud
uuds, aud Hester's
her high-uecked
Ikerchief, trimmed
I conspicuously at

hearty laugh, which

hiid iiriro of rulioule in it than approval ;
uii.i M ludalcii, who knew him so well, de-
teott'l the rii'icule.au'l knew he was making
tun of ^\ hat she thought bo nice.

" \ (.11 (Inii'clikeit, and 1 i^otiton purpose
fi.r you and Mr. Roger, and sold straw- |
beriirs to i)ay lor it, because Hester said a
pies. lit we earned ourselves was always
worth more than if we took somebody else's
money to buy it," Magdalen said, her lip
beiiii'uing to quiver and her eyes to till with
tearn.

" Tho man wad a bungler who took you in
that St dl" position," Frank replied, "and
your dreas is too old. I'll show you one 1
have of Alice (irey, and maybe take you to
Springfield, where you can sit just as she
docs."

Tliis did not mend the matter much, and
Maudakn felt as if something had been lost
from tlie brightness of tlieday,and wondered
if Roger too would laugh at her photograph,
which had gone to him in Hester's letter.
Frank knew he had woun<led her, and
was very kind and gracious to her by way of
makiiii/ amends, and gave her the book with
coloured plates whichhe had bought for Alice
liiay just before she left New Haven so sud-
denly. It happened to be in hia trunk,
which was brought from the station that
night, and he blessed his good stars that it
was there, and gave it as a peace-offering to
Magdalen, whose face clearetl entirely ; aud
who next tlay went with him down to the
old haunt by the river, aud fasten-
ed to his hook the worms she
dug before he was up ; and told him all
about the stranger in the graveyard, and
about her going to school. And then she
asked him about Alice Grey, and the picture
which he had of her.

" Did she give it to you ?" Magdj^len ask-
ed ; but Frank alFected not to hear her, and
pretend* d to be busy with something which
hurt his foot. He did not care to tell her
that he had bought the picture at the gallery
where it was taken. He would rather she
should think Alice gave it to him, atid after
a niouient he took it from his pocket aud
handed it to Magdalen, who stood for a long
time gazing at it without saying a word. It
was the picture of a sweet-faced young girl,
whose short, chestnut hair rippled in waves
all over her head just as Magdalen's did.
Her dre^s was a white muslin, with clusters
of tucks nearly to the waist, and her little
rosetteil slipper showed below the hem.
Her head was leaning upon one hand, aud
the other held a spray of flowers, while
around her were pictures aud vases, and
statuettes, m ith her straw hat lying at her
feet, wht re she had evidently thrown it
when she sat down to rest. It was a beauti-

ful picture, and nothing could be more g' ace-
tul than Alice's attitude, or atlord a more
striking contrast to the still pobition ot poor
Mag in that picture ou Frank's tai>le in the
blue room. Magdalen saw the dillerence at
once, and ceased to woiuier at Frank's non-
appreciation other photograph. it wan u,
botch, comparetl wiih Alice's, aud she her-
self was a Liotch, an awk^aid, unsightly
thing in her hmg dress and coarse shots, two
sizes two big for her. such as she always
insisted upcm wearing for tear of pinchiu^
her toes. :^he had them on now, and a pair
of stockings which wiinkledou the top ot
her foot, and she glanced first at them and
then at the delicate slipper in the j)icture,
and the small round waist, and pretty tuck-
ed skirt, and then, greatly to Frank's
amazement, burst into a flood of tears.

" 1 don't wonder you like her best," she
said, wheu Frank asked what was the mat-
ter. " 1 don't like that. 1 can't, 1 haven't
any slippers, nor any muslin dress ; and if 1
had, Hester wouldn't let me have it tucked,
it's sucii hard work t» iron it. Alice has a
mother, 1 know— a gooil, kind mother, to
lake care of her and make her look like other
little girls. Oh, 1 wish her iviother was
mine, or 1 had one just like her. '

Alas, poor Magtlalen. She little guessed
the truth, or ureamed how dark a shadow
lay across the pathway of pretty Alice Grey.
She only thought of her as handsome and
graceiui, anil liappy in mother aud friends,
and she wept on tor a moment, while i^'rank
tried to comfort her.

There was no more fish' ^w that day, for
Maggie's head began to ache, and they went
back to Millbank, across the pleasant fields,
in the quiet ot the summer afternoon. F'rank
missed Magdalen's photograph from his table
the next day, and had he oeen out by the
little brook which ran through the grounds,
he would have seen the tragmenis of it
floating down the stream, with Magdalen
standing by aud watching them silently.
Tliey fished .igain after a day or two, and
hunted in the woods, aud sat together be-
ueath an olil gnarled oak where Fiank grew
confidential, and told Magdalen of his money-
ed troubles, and wonderetl if Roger would
allow him more than five thousand wheu he
came of age. Aud then he inadvertently
alluded to the missing will, and told Mag-
daleu about it, and said it might be well
enough to hunt lor it occasionally, as she
had access to all parts of the h(>use. And
Magdalen promised that she would, without
a thought of how the finding of it might af-
fect Roger. She would not for the world hare
harmed oae whom she esteemed and vene-
rated as she did Roger, but he was across the
sea, and Frank had her ear and. her sympathy.

fi0Vi,^

?i,»;r>.>x-T--.r-

MILLBANK ; OR,

It*

It woulti be a fine thiiij^ to tind the will, par-
ticularlv an Kr.ink liiul l^rl)IIll^'(■(l her a <lreR8
like Alice (Iruy's and a i)iano, if she nuo-
oeedeii.

Fniiik was not a scoundrel, as some reader
may l)o ready to suppose, lie liad no idea
tliat tlie liuding of the will would ruin itoger.
He had receivetl no such iiri[)re»8ion t'roin his
mother. She had not tliouglib best to tell
him all she believed, and had only iuainu*
ftted that the missing will was more in
his favour than the one then iu force. Frank
wanted niouey — a great deal of monej', and
his wa-.it was growing; constantly, and so he
casually rucomniendcd Magdalen to hunt for
the wdl, and tlien for a time gave the sub
jeut uo more thought. But not so with
Magdalen. She dreamed of the will by
night, and hunted for it by day, when Frank
did not claim her attention, until at last
Hester stum'dud upon her turning over the
identicil barrel of papers which Mrs. Walter
Scott hud once looked through.

"In the mime of tiie people, what are you
doing ?" she asked ; and Magdalen, who
never thought of keeping her intentions a
secret, replied, " I am looking for that will
which Mr«. Walter Scott says Sipiire Irving
made before he died."

For an instant Hester was as white as a
ghost, and her voice was thick with passion
or friglit, as she exclaimed, "A nice busi-
ness, after all Roger has done for you; and a
pretty pickle youM be in, too, if such a will
could be found. Don't j'ou know you'd be
hustled out of this house in less than no
time ? YouM be a beggar in the streets.
Put up them papers quicK, and don't let me
catch you ruunnagin' again. If Frank is
goiu' to put such notions into your head, he'd
better stay away from Millbank. Come with
me, I say !"

Hester was terribly excited, and Magda-
len looked at her curiously, while there
Hashed across her mind a thought, which yet
was hardly a thought, that, if there wa8 a
will, Hester knew something of it. Let a
woman once imagine there is a secret or a
mystery in the house, and she seldom rests
until she has ferreted it out. So Magdalen,
though not a woman, had the instincts of
one, aud her interest in the lost document
was iioubled by Hester's excitement, but she
did not look any more that day, nor for
many succeeding ones.

On Frank's birthday there came letters
from iioger, and the same train which
brought them brought also Mrs Walter
Scott. She had found the city unendurable
with all her acquaintance away, and ventur-
ed to come unasked to Millbank, Hester
was not glad to see her. Since finding Mag-
dalen in the garret, she had suspected Frank

of all manner of evil doHiuns, and now his
mother had come to help him carry tliem out,
She had no fears of their succeeding. She
knew they would not : but she did not wan*;
them there, and she spoke very shori; and
crisp to Mrs. Walter Scott, and was imrelv
civil to her. Mrs. Walter Scott, ontliecmi-
trary, was extremely urbane and awxt. She
did not feel as assured as nhe had done when
last at Millbank. There was nothing of tho
mistress about her now. She was nil smiles
and softness, and gentleness, and called Hes-
ter " My dear Mrs, Floyd," and pcpieezKl
her baud, and told her how well and young
she was looking, and petted Magdalen, and
ran her white lingers through her rings of
hair, and said it was partly oil her account
she had come to Millbank.

'• I heard from Frank that she was to go
to school in the autumn, and knowing what a
bore it would be for you, .VIrs. Floyd, to see
to her wardrobe, with all the rest you have
to do, I ventured to como, especi.illy as I
have beeu longing to see the olil place once
more. How beautiful it is looking, and how
nicely you and your good husi)and have
kept everything I How is Mr. Floyil ?"

Heater knew there was a good deal of what
she called "soft-soap " in all the lady said ;
but kind words go a great ways with erery-
body, and Hester insensibly rehixed her
stitt'nessand went herself with Mrs. Walter
Scott to her room and opened the shutters,
and brought clean to els for the rack, and
asked if her guest would have a lunch or
wait till dinner was ready,

" Oh, I'll wait, of course, T do not mean
to give you one bit of trouble," was the
suave reply, and Hester departed, wonder-
ing to herself at the change, and if "Mrs.
Walter Scott hadn't j'ined the church or
something."

CHAPTER XI.

Roger's letters and the result.

While Mrs. Walter Scott was resting,
Roger's letters were brought in. There was
one for Frank, which he carried to his own
room, and one for Magdalen, who broke the
seal at once and screamed with delight as
Roger's photograph met her view. He had
had it taken for her in Dresden, and hoped
it would afford her as much pleasure to re-
ceive it as hers had given him. He did not
say that he thought her position stiff, and
her dress too old for her, though he had
thought it, and smiled at the prim, old-
womanish tigure, sitting so erect in the high-
backed chair. But he would not willingly
wound any one, much less the little girl who
had picked berries in the hot sun to pay for
the picture. So he thanked her for it, aud

iiv<
<

sail
car

ROGER IRVI>G'S WARD.

I, and now his
larry tliem out,
oceeiJiii^. iShe
e (1i<l not wan';
very Bhori ami
niid wn>* hiirt'ly
ott, on ttie cell-
mil aw'.et. She
hiui ilont? wlteii
notliing iif tlio
I w;iH nil Hniili'8
[Vl)(l c.vllcfl HnM-
aii<l PiiiUTZt (I
vtll and younj:;
Mai,'(lalen, ami
^h her rin^s of
oh heraocount

she was to go
knowing what a

8. Floytl, to «ee
) rest yf>ti have

especially aa I
! old place once
loking, and how

husband have
Ir. Floyd ?"
ood deal of what
,1 the lady said ;
rays with erery-

ly relaxed her
bh Mrs. Walter
id the shutters,
or the rack, and
tiave a luuuh or

T do not mean
•ouble," was the
eparted, wonder-
e, and if " Mrs.
1 the church or

rHE IlKSULT.

itt was resting,
t in. There was
pried to his own
ti, who broke the

with delight as
r view. He had
3den, and hoped
;h pleasure to re-
im. He did not
position stiff, and

though he had
t the prim, old-
erect ill the high-
ild not willingly
the little girl who
lot sun to pay for
d her for it, and

inclosed his owi), and gave his consent to
the Charlestown arrangement, and asked
again that some competent person should
take charge of her wardrobe, which be
wanted in every respect " to be like that of
other young girls." He underscored this
line, and Hester, who read the letter after
Magdalen, felt her blood tingle a little, and
knew that her day for dressing Magdalen
was over. As for Magdalen, sno was too j
much engrossed in Roger's picture to think
much of (he contents of the letter.

" Oh, isn't he splendid looking ! but I
should be awfully afraid of him now," she
said, as she went in search of Frank.

She found him in his room, with a dis-
turbed, disappointed look upon his face.
Roger had not made him a rich man on his
tweaty-tirst birthday. He had only ordered
that six thousand dollars should be paid to
him instead of five, as mentioned in the
will, and had said that inasmuch as Frank
had another year in college the four hundred
should be continued for the year and increas-
ed by an additional hundred, as seniors usu-
ally wanted a little spemliiig money. Frank's
good sense told him that this was more than
he had a right to expect ; that Roger was
and always had been very generous with
him ; but he knew, too, that he was owing
here and there nearly a thousand dollars,
while, worse than all, there was for sale in
Millbank the most beautiful fast horse,
which he greatly coveted and had meant to
buy, provided Roijer came down handsome-
ly. Knowing that horses had been his
father's ruin and his grandfather's aversion,
Frank had abstained tolerably well from in-
dulging his taste, which was decidedly to-
ward the race-course. But he had always
intended to own a horse as scon as he was
able. According to the will, he could not
use for that purpose any of the Hve thousand
dollars left to him. That was to set him up
in business, though what the business would
be was more thau he could tell. He hated
study too much to be a lawyer or doctor,
and had in his mindfa situation in some bank-
ing house where capital was not required,
and with his salary and the interest of what
Roger was going to give him he should do
very well. That interest had dwindled
down to a very small sum, and in his disap-
pointment Frank M'as accusing Roger of
stinginess, when Magdalen came in. She
saw something was the matter, and asked
what it was, at the same time showing him
Roger's picture, at which he looked atten-
tively.

"Foreign travel is improving him," he
!^aid. "He looks as though he hadn't a
ciare in the world ; and why should the
^ave, with an income of twenty or twenty-

Kve thousand a year ? What does he know
of poverty, or debts, or self-denials ? "

Frank spoke bitterly, and Magdalen felt
that he was blaming Roger, whose blue eyes
looked so kindly at him from the photo-
graph.

"What is it, Frank?" she asked again ;
and then Frank told her of his perplexities,
and how much he owed, and how he had ex-
pected more than a thousand dollars
from Roger, and, as he talked, he
made himself believe that be was
badly used, and Magdalen thought so
too, though she could not quite see how
Roger was obliged to give him money, if he
did not choose to do so.

Still she was very sorry for him, and
wished that she owned Millbank, so she
could share it with the disconsolate Frank.

*' I mean to write to Mr. Roger about it
and ask him to give you more," she said, a
suggestion against which Frank uttered only
a feeble protest.

Aa he felt then, he was willing to receive
aid by almost any means, and he did not ab-
solutely forbid Magdalen to write as she pro-
posed ; neither, when fhe spoke of the will,
and her intention to continue her search for
it, did he offer any remonstrance. He rather
encouraged that idea, and his face began to
clear, and before dinner was announced,
Magdalen heard him practising on his guitar
which had been sent from New York by ex-
press, ant which Hester likened to a " corn-
stock hddle."

Mrs. Walter Scott came down to dinner,
very neatly dressed in a pretty muslin of a
white-ground pattern, with a little lavender
leaf upon it, her lace collar fastened with a
coral pin, and coral ornaments in her ears.
Her hair was curling better than usual, and
was arranged very becomingly, while her long
train swept back behind her and gave her
the air of a queen, Magdalen thought, as she
stood watching her. She was very gracious
to Magdalen all through the dinner, and
doubly, trebly so after a private conference
with Frank, who told her of his disappoint-
ment, and what Magdalen had said about
writing to Roger, as well as hunting for the
will. Far more shrewd and cunning than
her son, who, with all his faults, was tov
honourable to stoop to stratagem and dupli-
city, Mrs. Walter Scott saw at once how
she conld make a tool of Magdalen, and by
being very kind and gracious to her, play
into her hands in more ways than one. Ac-
companying Roger's letter was a check for
tive hundred dollars, which Hester was to
use for Magdalen's wardrobe, and for the
payment of her bills at school as long as it
lasted. VVhen more was needed, more would
be sent, Roger said ; and he asked that every

MILLBANK; OR,

thiriR needful should l)e furnished to make
Magdalon on an e<iuality with other young I
ffirl« of her age. Here was a chance for Mrs.
Walter Scott. She had good taste. She
knew what school ^irls needed. Siie could '
be economical, too, if slio tried, slie said '
with her sweet, winning way ; and if Mrs.
Kloyd pleased, she would, while at Millbank, '
relieve her entirely of all caro of Magdaleu's
dresB, and see to it herself. '

" Better keej) family matters in the family !
and not £;otoMr8. Johnson, who knows but [
little more of such things than you do," she i
said to Hester, who, for once in her life, was !
hoodwinked, and consented to let Mrs. Wal- j
ter Scott take Magdalen and the check into I
her own hands.

There were two or three trips to
New York, and two or three mil-
liners and dressmakers' bills paid
and receipted and said nothing about.
There were also bundles and bundles of dry
goods forwarded to MillbanK,from Stewart's,
and Arnold's, and Hearue's, and one would
have supposed that Magdalen was a young
lady just mikiui^ her dfl>t into fashionable
society, instead of a little girl of twelve
going away to school The receipted bills of
said bundles were all scrupulously sent across
the water to Roger, to whom Mrs. Walter
Scott wrote a very friendly letter, begging
pardon for the liberty she had taken of going
to his bouse uninvited, but expressing herself
as so lonely and tired of the hot city, and so
anxious to visit the haunt sacred to her for
the sake of her dear husband, Roger's only
brother. Then she spoke of Magdalen in the
highest terms of praise, and said she had
taken it upon herself to see that she was

firoperly Htted out; and as Roger, being a
lachelor, was not expected to know how
much was actually required nowadays for a
young miss's wardrobe, she sent him the bills
that he might know what she was getting,
and stop her if she was too extravagant.

This was her rirst letter, to which Roger
returned a very gracious answer, thanking
her for her interest in Magdalen, expressing
himself as glad that she was at Millbank,
asking her to prolong her visit as long as she
found it agreeable, and saying he was not
very likely to quarrel about the bills, as he
had very little idea of the cost of feminine
apparel.

Roger was not naturally su8picious,[and it
never occurred to him in glancing over the
bills to wonder what a child of twelve could do
with fifteen yards of blue silk or three yards
of velvet. For aught he knew, blue silk and
black silk and velvet were as appropriate for
Magdalen as the merinos, and Scotch plaids,
and delaines and French calicoes, and ging-
hams, andlittle striped crimson and black silk

which the lady purchased for Magdalen at
reduced rates, and had made up for her ac-
cording to her own good taste.

In Mrs. Walter Scott's second letter she
spoke of two or three other bills which she
hail forgotten to rncloHoinh -r last, and which
were now mislaid, so that she could not rea-
dily Hml them. The amount was a little over
one hundred dollars, and she mentioned it
so that he might know just what disposition
M'as made of his check while the money was
in her hands. Then it did occur to Uogcr
that Magdalen must bo having a wonderful
outfit, and for a moment a distrust of Mrs.
Walter Soott Hashed across his mind. Hut
he quickly put it hy as unworthy of him,
and by way of making amends for the dis-
trust, sent to the lady herself his check for
one hundred dcdlars, which she was to
accept for her kindness to Magdalen. Mrs.
Walter Scott was in the seventh heaven of
happiness, and petted Mag<lalen more than
ever, and confirmed old Hester in her belief
that " she had joined the church or met with
a great change."

The will was never mentir ned in Hester's
presence, but to Magdalen Mrs. Walter
Scott talked about it, not as anything in
which she was especially interested, but as
something which it was well enough to find
if it really existed, and gave, as she believed
it did, more money to Frank than the other
one allowed him. Magdalen was completely
dazzled and charmed by the great lady whom
she thought so beautiful and grand, and
whose long curls she stroked and admired,
wcmdering a little why Mrs. Irving was so
much afraid of her doing anything to straight-
en them, when her own hair, if once wet
and curled and dried, could not be well
combed out of place. Magdalen believed in
Mrs. Walter Scott, and looked with a kind
of disdain upon Mrs. Johnson and Nellie,
who had once stood for her ideas of queens
and princesses. Now they were more
ciphers when compared with Mrs. Walter
Scott, who took her to drive, and kept her
in her own roon., and kissed her affection-
tely when she promised of her own accord
"to look for that will until it was found."
<t"My little pet, you make me so happy,"
she had said ; and Magdalen, flushed with
pride and flattery, thought how delightful
it would be to give the recovered document
some day into the beautiful woman's hands
and receive her honeyed words of thanks.

Those were very pleasant weeks for Mag-
dalen which Frank and his mother spent at
Millbank ; the pleasantest she had ever
known, and she enjoyed them thoroughly.
The parlours were used every day, and Mag-
dalen walked with quite an air through the
handsome rooms, arrayed iu some one of her

ROfJEU IRVING'S WARD.

Magdalen at
]p for her ac-

mil letter she
1h wliioh she
ist, and which
iould not rea-
,8 a little over
mentioned it
at dispoflition
c money was
!cur to Kof^or

a wonderful
trust of Mrs.
is mind. But
ortiiy of him,
8 for the dis-
his check for

Hhe was to
ijdalcn. Mrs.
nth heaven of
en more than
' in her belief
ih or met with

id in Hester's
Mrs. Walter
i anything in
'ested, but as
nough to Hnd
18 she believed
;han the other
i^as completely
eat lady whom
il ;^rand, and
and admired,
rving was so
ng to straight-
if once wet
not be well
n believed in
with a kind
n and Nellie,
eas of queens
were more
Mrs. Walter
and kept her
her affection-
er own accord
,va8 found."
ne 80 happy,"
flushed with
low delightful
red document
'^o man's hands

of thanks,
'eeks for Mag-
other spent at
she had ever
n thoroughly,
day, and Mag-
ir through the
>me one of her

new dresses, which improved her so much,
and made her, as Frank, raid, most as hand-
some as Alii'o <lrey. At her particular ro-
((uent she had a white nmslin made and tuck-
ed just like Alice's in the picture, and then
wetit with Frank to Spriii^'lield, and sat as
Alice 8at, with her head leaning on her
hands, llowors in her lap, and her wavy hair
arrangtMl like Alice's. It was a strikini^
picture — pretti«,'r, if possilde, than Alice's,
except that in Magiialen's face there was i>n
anxious »)X|ires8i(iii, a look of newness, as if
she had mnna suddenly into the dress and
the position ; wliir(!ii8 Aliit; was eany and
natural, as if tuckiMl muslins and flowers
were every-day matters with licr. Magduien
was not ashained of her photogru])!! this
time, and nhc sent a i opy to lioger, with the
litter, she wrote him, in which she made
Frank the tiieme of her discourse. There
was nothing roundabout in Magdalen's
character. She came directly at wliat she
wanted to say, and lloger was told in plain
terms that Magdalen wished ho would give
Frank a little more money ; that ho had
debts to pay, ami had said that if lie
CO dd get t'lem oti" hia mind he
ivould never incur aiiotiier, but would
slie rebelled l)itterly. Only a jhigli-sjiirited
work like a dog to earn liis own living whu-n
once he was through college. If Uoger won hi
do this, she, Mugdalcn, would study so hard
;it school and be so economical, that perhaps
she could m.'ina^e to save all he chose to send
to Frank. Mrs. Irving had bought her more
clothes than she needed, and she could make
them last for two or three years, — she knew
8 le o^uld.

This was Magdalen's letter ; and a week
after Frank's return to college he was sur-
prised by a re(juest from Kouer to send him
a list ol all his unpaid bills, as he wished to
liquidate them. There were some bills
which Frank did not care to have come under
Uoger's urave in8i>ection;buta8 these chanced
to bo the largest of them all, he could ixtt
ulFord to lose the opportunity of haviu^' them
taken olf his hands ; and so the list went to
Uoger, with a self-acciisiug letter full of
promises of amendment. And kind, all-
cuduring Roger tried to believe his nepiiew
sincere, and paid his debts, and made him a
free man again, and wrote him a kiu<l, fa-
therly letter, full of good advice, which
F'rank read with his feet on the mantel, an
expensive cigar in his mouth, aud a mint
julep on the table beside him.

Meantime Magdalen had si»id good-by to
Millbank, and was an inmate of Cliarlestown
Seminary, where her bright face and frank,
impulsive manner were winning her many
friends among the young girls of her own
age, and the quickness which she evinced for

learning, .id the implicit obedience she
always rendered to the most trivial rule, were
winning her golden laurels from her teachers,
who soon came to trust Magdalen Lenncx as
they had selduiu trusted any pupil before
her.

Mrs. Walter Scott lingered at Millbank
until the foliage, so fresh and green when
she came, changed into scarlet and gold, and
tinally fell to the ground. Kvery day she
stayed was clear gain to her, and so she wait-
ed until her friends had nil returned lo the
city, and then took her departure ami went
bajk to New York, tolerably well satisfied
with her visit at Millbank. She had made a
good thing of it on the whole. She had
managed to pay two or three little bills
which were annoying her terribly, for she
did not like to be in debt. She had se(!ured
herself a blue silk and black silk, and a hand-
some velvet ch)ak, to say nothing of the
hundred dollars which Kogor had sent for
servicei rendered to Magdalen, and what was
better for her peace of mind, she had made
herself believe that there was uothinu verj-
.wrong in the transaction. She would have
shruiiK from theft, had she called it by that
name, almost as much as from midnight
murder, but what she had d.one was not theft,
nor yet was it dishonesty. It was simply
taking a small ))art of what belonged to her,
for she tirmly believed in the will, and al-
ways would believe in it, whether it was
found or not. So she sported her handsome
velvet cloak on liroadway, and wore her
blue-silk dress, without a (jualm of con-
science or a thought that they had come to
her unlawfully.

CHAPTEK XII.

.AI.ICK CItEV.

While the events we have narrated were
transpiring at Millbank, the New York train
bound for Albany had stopped one summer
at'teriioou at a little station on the river, and
then speil on its way, leaving a track of
smoke and dust behind it. FVom the plat-
form of the depot a young girl watched the
cars till they passed out of sight, and tiien,
with something like a sigh, entered thrf car-
riage waiting for her. Nobody had come to
meet her but the driver, who touched his hat
respectfully, and tiien busied himself with
tiie bagi,'age. The girl did not ask him any
questions. She ouly looked up into his face
witn a wistful, questioning gaze, which he
seemed to understand ; for he shook his head
sadly, aud said, " Bad again, and gone."

Then an expression of deep sorrow flitted

over the girl's face, and her eye.s fllled with

tears as she stepped into the carriage. The

oad led several miles back from the river,

.36

MIM.BANK ; OR,

! I

kiul up uii« windiiiK hill »fter another, lo
that the twilight Hhailows were fading, and
the night waH shutting in the beautifu
mountain auonory, ere the carriage paaaed
through a br()a<l, haudRoine park to the aide
entrance of a uiaHgivu brick building, where
it atopped, ami the young girl Hprang out,
antl ran haatily up the atepa into the hall.
There was no one there t(» meet Iter. No-
thing but ailenue and louelinoaa, and the
moonlight, which fell aoroaa the Hoor, and
matle the young girl ahiver as she went on
to the un(i of the hall, whore a door opened
suddenly, and a alight, straight woman ap-

t)eared with iron-gray puffH around her fore-
lead, diamonds in her eura, diamonds on her
soft white handa, and diamonds fastening the
lace ruHle, which finished the neck of her
black satin dress. She wa« a proud-looking
woman, with a stern, haughty face, which
relaxed into something like a smile when she
saw tiie young girl, who sprang forward with
a cry, which might perhaps have been con-
strued into a cry of joy, if the words which
followed them had been different.

"O, Anntie," she said, taking the hand
offered her, and putting up her lips for the
kiss 80 gravely given — " O, auntie, wtuj did
father send for me to come home from the
only place where I was ever happy ?"

"1 don't know. Your father's ways are
ways of mystery to me," the lady said; and
then, as if touched with something like pity
for thedesolatecreaturewhohad been brought
from " the only place where slie was ever
happy," to this home where she could not be
very happy, the lady drew> her to a couch,
and untied the blue ribbons of the hat,
and unbuttoned the gray sack, doing
it all with a kind of caressing tenderness
which showed how dear the young girl wiik
to her.

" But did he give you no reason, auntie ?
What did he say when he told you I was
coming?" the girl asked vehemently, and the
lady replied :

"He was away from Beechwood several
days, travelling in New England, and when
he came back he told me he had left orders
for yuu to come home at once. I thought,
from \t^hat he said, that he saw you in New
Haven."

" I never saw or heard of him till Mr.
Baldwin came,aDd said I was to leave school
for home, and he was to be my escort. It's
very strange that he should want me home
now. Robert told me she was gone again.
Did she get very bad ?"

The voice which asked this question was

d anil low, like the voices of those who talk

their dead ; and the vi i;e which auswered
was low, too, in its tones.

" Yes, she took to rocking and singing

night aa well as day, and that, you know,
makes your father nervoua sooaer than any-
thing elae. "

" i)id she want yo go T"

" No ; ahe begged to stay at tint, but
went quietly enough at the last."

*' Did she ever mention me, anntie ?■
Do you think ahe miaaed me and wanted
me ?^'

She apoke of you once. She aaid,
Allio waa hero, ahe wouldn't let me

O, auntie, it's-

• If
go.'"

*' O, poor, poor darling !
terrible, isn't it?"

Alice was sobbing now, and amid her aoba-
she asked :

" Was father gentle with her, and
kind ?"

" Yes, gentler, more patient than I have
known him for years. It almost seemed aa
if something had happened to him while he
was gone, for he waa very quiet and thought-
ful when he came home, and <lid not order
nearly .'\8 many brandy alings, though he
smoked all th» time."

" Not iu her room !" and the girl looked
quick'y up.

" No, not in her room — he spared her
that ; p.nd when she first began to rock

his best to quiet her,
8he waa worse than

and sing, he tried
but he couldn't,
usual."

"Oh, how dreadful our life is?" Alice
said again, while a shiver as if she were cold
ran over her. " I used to envy the girls at
school who were looking forward with such
delight to their vacations, when I had no*
Miiiig but this for ny portion. It is better
»!ian I deserve, I know, and it is wrong for
me to murmur ; but, auntie, nobody can ever
envy me my home !"

Her white fingers were pressed to her eyes,
and the tears were streaming through them,
as she sat there weeping so bitterly, the fair
young girl whom Magdalen Lennox had en-
vied lor her beauty, her muslin dress, her
mother, her home ! Alas ! Magdalen, play-
ing, and working, and eating, and living in
the great kitchen at Millbank, had known
more of genuine home happiness in a month
than poor Alice Grey had known in her
whole life. And yet Alice's home presented
to the eye a most beautiful and desirable as-
pect. There were soft velvet carpets on all the
Hoors, mirrors and curtains of costly lace in
all the rooms, with pictures, and books, and
shells, and rare ornaments from foreign lands;
handsome grounds, with winding walks and
terraced laiks aad patches of flowers, and
tuuntains, and trees, and rustic seats, and
vine-wreathed arbours.and shady nooks, sug-
gestive of quiet, delicious repose ; horses and
carriages, and plenty of servants at com-

ROr.KR IRVING "S WARD.

t, you know,
ler than any*

at flnt, but

mf, anntie ?"
and wanted

She said,
ildn't let me

'), auntie, it'i-

amid her soba-

bh her, and

t than I have
lost seemed as
> him while he
t and thought-
ilid not order
gs, though he

he girl looked

lie spared her

began to rock

to quiet her,

B worse than

ife is?" Alice
she were cold
vy the girls at
ard with such
hen I had no'
It is better
it is wrong for
obody can ever

sed to her eyes,
througli them,
itterly, the fair
^ennox had en-
sliu dress, her
la^dulen, play-
r, and living in
ik, liad known
eas in a month
known in her
lome presented
id desirable as-
irpets on all the
f costly lace in
and books, and
m foreign lands;
ding walks and
of flowers, and
Stic seats, and
ady nooks, sug-
ose ; horses and
rvants at com-

mand. This waf Alice's home, and it itcHid
upon the mountain-side, overlooking the
valley of th« Fludsnn, which could be seen at
intprvalfl winding its way to the sea.

An oM Scotch servant, who had been in
the family for years, camo into the library
where Alice was sitting, and after warmly
wolcoming hrr bonny miatress, told hor tea
was waiting in the little supper room, where
the table waM laid with th<> prutticnt of tcu-
vlotliN, and the solid silver contnistnd so
brightly with the pure white china. Ther«
were InscionH strawlmrricH, frcHh from the
vines, and Hw«ct, thick cream from Hannah's
milk house, and the nice hot tua-cakiH which
Alice lovf;d, and her glafs of water from tier
favourite spring under the rock, and Lucy
stood and waited on her with as much de-
ference as if she had been a ((uoen.

Alice was very tired, ami soon after tea
was over she asked permission to retire, and
Nannie, her own waiting-maid, went with
her up the broad staircase and thr()ll^h the
upper hall to her room, which was over the
liijrary, and had, like that, a bay-window
looking oti' into the distant valley.

Nannie was all attention, but Alice did not
want her that night. She would rather
be alone ; and she dismisHud the girl,
saying with a smile, " I had no good Nannie
at school to undress me and put up my things.
We had to wait »)n ourselves ; so you see I
have become (juite a littb woman, and shall
often dispense with your services."

With her door shut on Nannie, Alice wont
straight to her window, through which the
moonlight was streaming,atid kneeling down
with her he.ul upon the sill, she p»-ayed
earnestly for grace to bear the loneliness
and desolation weighing so heavily on her
spirits.

Although a child in years, Alice Orey had
long since learned at whose feet to lay her
burdens. Her religion was a part of lier
whole being, and she made it veiy beautiful
with her loving, consistent life. Her schnol
companions had dubl^ed her the little " Puri-
tan,'' and sometimes laughed at her for
what they called her strai^^lit laced notions ;
but there was not one of them who did not
love the gentle Alice Grey, or who would
not have trusted her implicitly, and stood by
her against the entire school. . .,..;;,

Alice knew thai, she was apt to murmur
too much at the darkness overshadowing her
home, and to forget the many blessini^s
which crowned her life, and she now asked
forgiveness for it, and prayed for a spirit of
thankfulness for all the good Heaven had
bestowed upon her. And then she asked
that, if possible, the shadow nii^^ht be lifteil
from the life of one who was at once a terror

and an object of her deepest solicitude and
love.

Prayer with Alice was no mere form to bo
gone tlwough ; it was a real thing -a com-
muning witii a living i'rosenc*) -andshe^rew
(piiut and calm under its intluence, and sat
for a time drinking in the l>eauty of the
night, and looking far ofT a<;roan the valley
to the hills beyond the iiills nearer
to New Haven -- where Hhe had been
so happy. Then, as she felt strong
enough to bear it, she took her lamp, and
went iioisuleHsly down the wide hall and
through a gre;;n-bai/u door into a narrow
passage which led away from the front part
of the building. Mefore one of the <loor8 she
paused, and felt again the same heart-beat
she had so many tiipes expc.ienced when she
drew near the <lo(>r and heard the peculiar
Hound which always made her for a moment
faint and sick. But tliat sound was hushed
now, and the room into which Alice tlnally
en^ned was silent as the grave ; and the
•noon, which came through the windows in
sucli i)road sheets of silvery light, showed
that it was empty of all human life save
that of the young girl who stood looking
round, her lips (juivering and her eyes tilling
with tears as one familiar object after
another met her view.

There was the cradle in the corner, just
where it had stood for yeirs, and the carpet
in that snot told of the constant motion
which had worn the threads away ; and
there, too, was the chair by the window,
where Alice had so often seen a wasted
figure sit, and the bed with its snowy cover-
ings, to which sleep M'as almost a stranger,
Alice knelt by this l)ed, and with her hand
upon the crib which seemed to bring the
absent one so near to her, she prayed agaic,
and her tears fell like rain upon the pillows,
which she kissed for tlie sake of the feverish
restless head which had so often lain there.

" Poor darling," she said, "do you know
that Alice is hero to-night in your own
room ? Do you Know that she is praying
for you, and loving you, and pitying you so
much ?"

Then as the words " if Allie was hero I
shouldn't have to go away," recurred to
her mind, siie sobbed,*" No, darling, if
Allie had been here you sliould not have
gone, and now that she is here, she'll bring
you back again ere bnig, and bear with all
your fancies more patiently than she ever
did before."

There was another kiss upon the pillow as
if it had been a living face, and Alice's fair
hands petted and caressed and smoothed the
ruffled linen, and then she turned away and
passed again into the passage and through
the green-baize door, back into the broadej.

UH(\

MILLBANK ; OR.

■! i

hall, where the air seemed purer, and she
breathed free again.

The morning succeeding Alice's return to
Beechwood ..as cool and Ijesjutiful, and tlie
sun shone brightly through the white
mist which lay on the river and curled up
the mountain side. Alice was awake early,
and when Nan came to call her she found
her dress'jd and sitting by the open window,
looking out upon the grounds and the park
beyond.

" You see I have stolen a march upon
you, Nannie," Alice said; "but you may
unlock tliat largest trunk, and help nie put
up my things."

The trunk was opened, and with Nannie's
assistance Alice hung away all her pretty
dresses, which were useless in this retired
neighbourhood, where they saw so few peo-
ple. The tucked muslin, which Magdalen
had admired in the picture. Nan foldeil care-
fully, smoothing oiii, the rich Valenciennes
lace and laying it away in a drawer, to grow
yellow and limp, perhaps, ere it was worn
again. Alice's chief occupation at Beech-
wood was to wander through the grounds or
climb ov^er the mountains and hills, with
Nan or tiie house d(>g Rover as escorts ; and
80 she .seldom wore the dresses which had
been the envy of iier school mates. She
cared little for dress, and when at last she
went down to the breakfast room to meet her
stately aunt, she wore a simple blue gingham,
and a white-linen apron, with dainty little
pockets all rufHed and fluted and looking as
fresh and pure as she looked herself, with
her wavy hair, and eyes of violet blue.

Her aunt, in her iron-gray putts, and
morning-gown of silvery gray satin, was very
precise and tereraonious, and kissed her
graciously, and then presided at the table
with as much formality as if she had been
giving a State dinner. There were strawber
ries again, and flaky rolls, and fragrant cho-
colate, and a nice broiled trout from a brook
among thv, hills, where Tom had caught it
for his young lady, who, with a schoolgirl's
keen appetite, ate far too fast to please her
aunt, who,neverthele?", would not reprove her
that first morning home. Breakfast
being over, Alice, who was expect-
ing her father that day, went to his
room to see tliat it was in order
It adjoined the apartment where she had
knelt in tears the preceding night, and there
was a door between the two; but, while the
other had been somewhat bare of ornament
and handsome furniture, it would seem as if
the master of the house had racked his brain
to find rare and costly things with which
to deck his own private room. There were
marks of wealth and luxury visible every-
where, from the heavy tassels which looped

the lace curtains of the alcove where the
massive rosewood bedstead stood, to the ex.
pensive pictures on the wall — French pic-
tures many of them — showing a taste which
some would call highly cultivated, and
others questioiiable. Alice detested them,
and before one, which she considered the
worst, she had once hung her shawl in token
of her disapprobation. She was accustomed
to them now, and she merely ^,ave them a
glance, and then moved on to a pencil
sketch, which she had never seen before.
Itwas evidently a graveyard scene, for there
were evergreens and 8hrubs,and a tall monu-
ment, and near them a little liai'efoot girl,
with a basket of llowers, which she was lay-
ing on the grave. Alice knew it was her
father's drawing, and she studied it intently,
wondering where he got his idea, and who
was the little girl, and whose the grave she
was decorating with flowers. Then she
turned from ttio picture to her father's writ-
ing desk, and opened drawer after drawer
until she came to one containing nothing
bu^, a faded Ijouquet of flowers, i;uch as the
girl in the picture might have been putting
on the g):ive,and a little lock of yellow hair.
Pinned about the hair was a paper, which
bore the same date as did that letter which
Roger Irving guarded with so much care.

Ali^e had heard of Roger Irving from
Frank, who called him " uncle" when speak-
ing of him to her. She had him in her mind
as quite an elderly man^ witli iron-gray
hair, perhaps, such as her aunty wore, and
she had thought she would like to see
BVank's paragon of excellenee; liut she had
no idea how near he was brought to her by
that faded bouquet and that lock of golden
hair, which so excited her curiosity.

Her father had always been a mystery to
her. That there was s.^/iething in his past
life which he wished to conceal, she felt sure, .
just as she was certain that tie was to blame
for that shattered wreck which sometimes
made Beechwood a terror and a dread, but .
to which Alice cluug with so fllial devotion..
There was very little in common between-
Alice and her father. A thorough man of
the world, with no regard for anything holy
and good, except as it helped to raise him
in the estimation of his fellows, Mr. Grey-
could no more understand his gentle daugh-
ter, whose life was so pure and consistent,
arc! so constant a rebuke to him, than she
could sympathise with him in his ways of
thiaking and acting. There was a time
when in his heart he had said there was no
God — a time when, without the slightest hesi-
tancy, he would have trampled upon all
God's divine institutions and set His laws at
naught; and the teachings cf one as fascinat-
ing and agreeable as Arthui Grey had been

FOGER IRVING'S WARD.

ilcovb where the
stood, to the ex-
11— B>ench pic-
ife a taste which
cultivated, and

detested them,

cousidered the
r shawl in token

was accustomed
y :i,ave them a

on to a pencil
'er seen before.
I scene, for there
and a tall monu-
e liarefoot girl,
lich she was lay-
new it was her
idied it intently,

idea, and wlio
se the grave she
rs. Then she
er father's writ-
er after drawer
taining nothing
irs, cuoh as the
,ve been putting
i of yellow hair.
.1 paper, which
,liat letter which
30 much care.
;er Irving from
;le" when speali-
hini in her mind

with iron-gray
aunty wore, and
►kl like to see
aee; liut she had
jght to her by

lock of golden
iriosity.

in a mystery to
ling in his past
sal, she felt sure, .
he was to blame ■
^hich sometimes
id a dread, but.

filial devotion.,
>mmon between-
borough man of
r anything holj^
sd. to raise him
ows, Mr. Grejr
is gentle daugh-
j and consistent,
> him, than she

in his ways of
ere was a time
id there was no
he slightest hesi-
mpled upon all
L set His laws at
' one as fascinat-
Gre.y had been

productive of more harm than his life would
ever show, for they had reached on even to
the other world, where some of his deluded
followers had gone before him. But a
Alice grew into girlhood, with her sweet
face and the example of her holy Christian
life, there was a change, and people said
that Arthur Grey was a better man. Out-
wardly he was, perhaps. He said no longer
there was no God. He knew there was
when he looked at his patient, self-denying
daughter, and he knew that grace alone had
made her whjvt she was. For Alice's sake he
admitted Alice's God,and, because lie knew it
helped him in various ways, he paid all due
deference to the forms of religion, and none
were more regular in their attendance at the
little church on the mountain side
than he, or paid more liberally
to every religious and charitable ob-
ject. He believeil himself that he ha'' re-
formed, and he charged the reform to Alice
and the memory of a gold« n-'iaired woman
whom he had loved better than he had since
loved a human being, save alone his
daughter Alice. But far greater than his
love for his daughter was his lova of self,
and because it suited him to do it he took his
child from school without the shadow of an
excuse to her, and was now making other
arrangements for her without su much as
asking how she would like them. He did
not greatly care. If it suited him it must
suit her ; and, as the first step toward the
accomplishment of his object, he removed
from Beechwood the great trial of his life,
and put it v/here it could not trouble him,
and turned a deaf hear to its entreaties to be
taken buck to "home" and " Allic"and the
" cril)" its poor arms had rockoii so many
weary nights. He knew the people with
whom he left his charge were kind and con-
siderate. He had tested them in tiiis re-
spect ; he paid them largely for what they
did. " Laura" was better there than at
Beechwood, he believed; at all e 'ents he
wanted her out of his way for a time, and so
he had unclasped her clinging arms fioni his
neck and kissed her flushed, tear-stained
face, and put her from him, and locked the
door upon her, and gone his way, tii. nking
that when he served himself he was doing
the best thing which Arthur Grey could do.
He was coming home the night after
Alice's arrival, and the carriage went down
to the station to meet him. There w.is a
haze in the sky, and the moon was not so
bright as on the previous night, when Allie
rode up the mountain side ; and was very
pleasant and cool, and Mr. Grey enjoyed his
ride, and thought how well he had managed
everything, and was glad he had been so
kind and gentle with Laura, and sent her

that basket of fruit, and that pretty little
cradle, which he found in New York ; and
then he thought of Alice, and his heart gave
a throb of pleasure when he saw the gleam of
her white dress through the moonlight as she
came out to meet him. There was a ques-
tioning look in he»' eyes, — a grieved, sorry
kind of expression, — which he saw as he led
her into the hall, and he kissed her very
tenderly, and, smoothing her chestnut hair,
said in rep y to that look :

" I knew you wouhl hate to leavo school,
Allie ; but I am going to take ^ ou to
Europe."

" 'L'o Europe ? Oh, father !" And Alice
gave a scream of joy.

c^A trip to Europe had been her dream of
perfect haupiness, and now that the dream
v,\\3 to be fulfilled, it seemed too good to be
true.

" Oh, auntie !" she cried, running up to
that stately lady, who, in her iron-gray pufl's
and'n)lack satin of the previous night, was
coming all iwly to meet her brother,— "Auntie,
we are going to Europe, all of us ! Isn't it
splendid ':"

She was very beautiful in her white dress,
with her blue eyes shining so brightly, and
she hung about her father in a caressing way,
and played anil sang his favourite songs ; and
then, whtii ut last he bade lu-r good-night,
she shook her curly head, and, holding fast
his hand, went with him up the stairs to his
own room, which she entered with him. She
felt that he did not want her there ; but she
stayed just the same, and, seating herself
upon his knee, laid, her soft, white arms
across his neck, and, looking straight into
his eyjs, pleaded earnestly for the poor
creature who h.' d been an occupant of the ad
joining room.

" Let her go with us, father. I am sure
the voyaue would do her 'good. Don't leave
her thero alone."

But Mr. Grey said "No," gently at first,
then very Hrmly as Alice grew more earnest,
and, finally, so sternly and decidedly, that
Alice gave it up, with a great gush of tear?,
and only asked permission t(» see her once
before she sailed. But to this Mr. Grey
answered no, also.

" It jwould only excite her," he said;
" and the more quiet she is kejit, the betttr
it is for her. I liave seen that everything is
provided for her comfort, She is better
there than hen-, or with ua across the sea.
W'e shall be absent several years, perhaps,
as I intend putting you at some good school
where you will finish your education."

-T-j intimated a wish for her to leave him
then, and so she bade him good-night, and
left him alone with his thoughts, which were
not of the most agreeable nature. How still it

iir— ~'~*"'~^'"

5^>:3?T5r-

MILBANK ; OR,

was in the uext room ! — so still, that he
trembled as he opened the door and went in,
where A' ice had wept so bitterly. He did
not weep ; he never wept ; but he was con-
scious of a feeling of oppression and pain bs
he glanced around the quiet, orderly room,
at the chair by the window, the bed in the
corner, and the crib standing near.

" What could have put that idea into her
head ?" he asked himself, as, with his hand
upon the criA<lle, he made the motion whi-jli
poor Laura kept up so constantly.

Then with a sigh he went back to his own
room, and stood a long time before that pic-
ture of the graveyard, which hung upon the
wall. There was a softness now in his eyes
and manner — a softness which increased when
he turned to his chair by the writing-desk,
ind took fiom a drawer the faded flow-
ers, and the curl of hair which Alice had
found.

" Poor Jessie ! I wish I had never crossed
her path," hf. aaid, as he put the curl and
flowers away, and thought again of Alice and
the little dai k-eyed girl who hail designateil
her ^' Franks Alice Grey."

" i^'rank's. indeed !" he said ; " I trust I
have effectually stopped any foolishness ot
that kind."

Frank Irviii;:; was evidently not a favourite
with Mr. Orf y, though not a word was ever
said of him to Alice, who, as the days went
by, began to be reconciled to her removal
from school, and to interest herself in her
preparations for the trip to Europe. They
were to sail the last of August, and one
morning in October, Magc^.alen received a
letter from Frank, saying that he had just
heard, from one of Miss Dana's pupils, that
Alice Grey had gime to Italy.

OHAPTJ^R XIJL

A RKTROSI'irCT.

Six years have j ssed away and we lift
the curtain of onr soory in Charlestown, and
after pausing there a moment, go back across
the bridge which spans the interval between
the present and the past. It was the day
but ore before the olose of the term, and
those who had learned to love each other
with a school-girl's warm, impetuous love,
would soon part, some for ever and some to
meet again, but when, or where, none could
teli.

" It may"bc for years, and it may be forever !'
sang a clear, bird-like voice in the mmic-
room, where Magdalen Lennox was prac-
tising the song she was to ?ing the following
night.

" Yes, it may be for yeais, and it may be
for ever 1 I wish there no such thing as part-
ing from thosj we love," the young girl sigh-

ed, as, with her sheet of music in her hand,
she passed through the hall, and up the
'stairs, to the room which had been hers so
long.

Magdalen had been very happy at Charles-
town, where every one loved her, from the
teacher, whom she never annoyed, to the
smallest child, whom she so of ien helped and
encouraged ; and she had enjo\ ed her vaca-
tions at Millbank, and more than once had
taken two or three of her young friends there
for the winter or summer holidays. And
Hester had petted, and admired, and waited
upon her, and scolded her for soiling so
many white skirts,and then had sat up nights
to iron those skirts, and had remarked, with
a feeling of pride and complacency, that
Hattie Johnson's dresses were not as full or
as long as MagdaUai's. Hester was very proud
uf Magdalen ; they were all proud
of her at Millbank, and vied with
each other in their attentions to her ;
and Magdalen appreciated their kind-
ness, and loved her pleasant home, and
thought there was no place like it in the
world ; but for all that she rather dreaded
returnint; to it for good, with nothing to look
forward to in the future. She understood
her position now far better than when she
was a child, and as she thought over the
strange circumstances which had resulted in
bringing her to Millbank, her cheeks had
burned crimson for the mother who had so
wantonly deserted her. Still she could not
hate that mother, and her nightly prayers
always ended with a blessing upon her, and a
petition that shemight some time tinl her,or
know, at least, who she was. She knew she
had no claim on Roger Irving, and, as she
grew older, she shrank from a life of depen-
dence at Millbank, esp'ecially as Frank was
likely to be there a good share of his time.

With all the ardour of her impulsive
nature she^had clung to and believed in him,
until the day when he, too, said good-bye,
and left her for Europe. He had gradu-
ated with tolerable credit to himself, and be-
cause of his tine oratorical ability had appear-
ed upon the stage, and made what Magdalen
had thought a " splendid speech ;" for
Magdalen was there in the old Centre
Church, listening with rapt attention, and
a face radiant with the admiration she felt
for her hero, whose graceful gestures and
clear, musical voice covered a mrltitude of
defects in his rather milk-and-watery decla-
mations. It was Magdalen's bouquet whicti
had fallen directly at his feet when his
speech was ended, and nothing could have
been prettier than his manner as he stooped
to pick it up, and then bowed his thanks to
the young girl, whose face flushed all over
with pride, both then and afterward, when,

hills
Frai
He
Been

ROGER IRVING'S WARD.

nc in her hand,
and up the
lad been hers so

xppy at Charlep-
ner, from the
annoyed, to the
riften helped and
ijojed her vaca-
tlian once had
ing friends there
holi<lays. And
red, and waited
r for soiling so
lad sat up nights
1 remarked, with
mplacency, that
ire not aa full or
r was very proud
ere all proud
ind vied with
itions to her ;
pd their kind-
laiit home, and
like it in the
rather dreaded
1 nothing to look
Slie understood
than when she
ought over the
bad resulted in
her cheeks had
ther who had so
ill she could not
nightly prayers
g upon her, and a
i time fin 1 her, or
i. She knew she
ing, and, as she
a life of depen-
ly as Frank was
lare of his time.
)f her impulsive
. believed in him,
, said good-bye.
He had gradu-
) himself, and be-
)ility had appear-
e what Magdalen
d speech ;" for
the old Centre
t attention, and
miration she felt
ful gestures and
i a multitude of
md -watery decla-
's bouquet whicn
s feet when his
thing could have
ner as be stooped
ed his thanks to
flushed all over
afterward, when,

in the evening, she leaned upon his arm at
the reception given to the students and their
friends. Magdalen was a little girl of thirteen-
and-a-half, while Frank was twenty-two ;
was agrarluate ; was Mr. Irving, of New
York ; and could afford to patronize her,
aiK at the same time be very polite and at-
tentive to scores of yo'^ng ladies whose ac-
\juaintance he had made during his college
career.

After that July day in New Haven, the
happiest and proudest of Magdalen's life, he
went with her to Millbank, and fished again
in the Connecticut,and hunted in the woods,
and smoked his cigars beneath the maple-
trees, and teased and tyrannized over, and
fretted, and made a slave of Magdalen, just
as the fancy took him. Then there came a
letter from Roger, written after the receipt
oi one from Magdalen, who, because she
fancied it might please her hero, had said how
much Frank would enjoy a year's travel in
Europe, and how much good it would do him,
especially as he was looking worn and thin
from his recent close application to study.

Roger bit his lip when he read that letter
and wondered if tlie hint was Frank's sugges-
tion, and wondered, too, if it were best to act
upon it ; and then, with a genuine desire to
see his young kinsman, l.e wrote to Frank,
inviting him to Paris, and offering to defray
his expenses for a year in Europe. Frank
was almost beside himself with joy, for, ex-
cept at Millbank, he felt that he had no
home, proper, in the world. His mother
had been compelled to rent her handsome
house, and board with the people who rented
it. This just supported her and nothing
. more. Ke would be in the way in Lexmg-
ton Avenue, and he accepted Roger's invita-
^ tion eagerly ; and one bright day, in Septem-
, be. , sailed out of the harbour of New York,
I while Magdalen str jd on the shore and wa/-

* ed her handkerchief to him until the vessel
' passed from sight.

, The one year abroad had grown into five ;

^ Roger was fond of travel ; he had plenty of
money at his command; it was as cheap living

,in Europe as at Millbank, where under effici-
ent superintendt"nce everything seemed to go
on as well without as with him. He never
encroached upon his princi])al, even after
Frank came to be his c mimniun, .nnd so lie
had lingered year aftdr year, sometimes in
glorious Italy, sometimes climlnng tlie sides
of Switzerland's snow capped mountains,
sometimes wandering through the Holy

• Land or exploring the river Nile, and
' again resting for months on the vine-dad

hills which overshadow the legendary llliine.
Frank was not always with him.
ile did not care for pictures, or
scenery, or works of art ; ' and

when Roger stopped for months to improve
himself iu these, Frank went his own way to
voluptuous Paris, where the gay society
suited him better, or on to the beautiful island
of Ifichia, where all was " so still, so green,
and so dreamy," and where at the little
mountain inn, called the " Piccola Senti-
nella," and which overlooked the aea, he met
again with Alice Grey.

But any hopes he might have entertained
with regard to the girl whom he had admired
so much in New Haven were effectually cut
off by the studied coolness of Mr. Grey's
manner towards him, and the obstacles con-
stantly thrown in the way of his seeing her
alone. Mr. Grey did not like Frank Irving,
and soon after the arrival of the latter at the
" Piccola Sentinella," he gave up his rooms
at the inn, and started with his daughter for
Switzerland, There was a break then in
Frank's letters to Magdalen, and when at
last he wrote again it was to say that he was
coming home, and that Roger was coming
with him.

The letter, which reached Magdalen the
night preceding the examination, awoke
within her a feeling of uneasiness and dis-
quiet. She had always been more or
less afraid of Roger, and she M'as especially
so now that she had not seen him for more
ilian eight years, and he would undoubtedly
expect 80 much from her as a graduate and
a young lady of eighteen. She almost wished
he would &ta,y in Europe, or that she had
sonie other home than Millbank. It would
not have been so pleasant with the master
there, as it used to be in other days when
she was a little girl fishing with Frank in the
river, or hunting with him in the woods.
Frank would l,e at Millbank, too, it was
true ; but the travelled Frank, who spoke
French like a native, was very different from
the Frank of hve years ago, and Magdalen
dreaded him almost as much as she dreaded
Roger himself, wondering if he would tease
her as he used to dr), and if he would think
h -r improved and at all like Alice Grey,
whom she knew he had met again at the
"Piccola Sentinella." " I wish they would
stay abroad five years more," she thought,
a.s alie finished reading Frank's letter ; and
her cheeks grew so hot and red; and her
pulse beat so rapidly, that it was long after
midnight ere she could quiet herself for the
rest she would need on the morrow, when
she was to act so conspicuous a part.

CHAPTER XIV.

IN THE EVENING. r

Magdalen was very beautiful in her whitc»
fleecy d;css, v.'hieh swept backward with as
broad and graceful a sweep as ever Mrs.

n- r-m?rrifrrr ■ir'rrtr rtiri

»^.?*-'- —

^illW

, . MILLBANK ; OR,

I ;

Walter Scott's had done when she walked
the halla at Millbank. There were flowers
on her bosom, knots of flowers on her short
sleeves, and flowers in her wavy hair, which
was arranged iu heavy coils about her head,
with one or two curls falling behind her
ears. She knew she was handsome ; she had
been told that too often not to know it ;
while had there been no other means of
knowledge within her reach, her mirror
would have set her right. But Magdalen
was not vain, and there was not the slight-
est tinge of self-consciousness in her manner
as she went through the various parts assign-
ed her during the day, and received the
homage of the crowd. Once her rooin-miite
had asked if she did not wish Mr. Irving
could be present in the evening, and Mag-
dalen had answered, " No, I would not have
him here for the world. I sliould be sure to
make a miserable failure if I knew Mr.
Irving and Frank wore looking on. But
there is no danger of that. They cannot
have reached New York yet. "

Later in the day, and just as it was grow-
ing dark, a young girl came into Magdalen's
room, talking eagerly of "the two most
splendid-looking men she had ever seen."

" They came," she said, " out of the hotel
and walked before me all the way, looking
hard at the seminary as they passed it. I
wonder who they were. Both were haml-
some, and one was perfectly splendid."

When Nellie Freeman was talking her
companioud usually listened to her, and they
did s') now, laughin.; at her enthusiasm, end
asking several (questions concerning the
strangers who had interested her so much.
Magdalen said nothing, and her cheek turned
pale for an instant as something in Nellie's
description of the younger gentleman made
her wonder if the strangers could be Frank
and Roger. But no : they could not have
reached New York yet, and if they had,
would not come on to Charlestown without
apprising her of their intentions, unless they
wished to see her flrst withovit being them-
selves seen. The very ideaol the latter pos-
sibility made Magdalen faint, and she asked
if one of the gentlemen was " oldish 1 ik-
ing?"

"No, both young, decidedly .so," was
Nellie's reply, which decided the matter for
Magdalen.

It was not Roger Irving. She had seen no
picture of hiiM since the ono! sunt her six
years ago, and judging him by herself he
must have changed a great deal since then.
To girls of eighteen, thirty-two seems old ;
and Roger was tliirty-two, and consequent-
ly old, and very patriarchal, in Magdalen's
estimation. There were some gray hairs in
his bead, and he begin to stoop, and wear

glasses when he read, if tlie print was tine
ami the light dim, she presumed. Nellie's
hero was not Roger, and Magdalen arranged
the flowers in her hair, and smoothed the
long curls which fell upon her neck, and
clasped her gold bracelets on her arms, and
then, when it was time, appeared before the
assembled crowd, who hailed her with ac-
clamations of joy, and when hitr brilliant per-
formance at the piano was ended, sent after
her such cheers as called her back again, not
to play this time, but merely to bow before
the audience, which showered her with bou-
quets. Very gracefully she acknowledged
the compliment paid to her, and then retired,
her cheeks burning scarlet and her heart
throbbing painfully as s!ie thought of the
face which she had seen far back among the
.'ipectators, just before she left the stage
Was it Frank who was standing on his feet
and applauding her so heartily, and was
that Roger beside him ? If so, she could
never face that crowd again and sing " Kath-
leen Mavourneeii." And yet she must. They
were calling for her now. and with a tre-
mendous effort of the will she quieted her
beating heart and went again before
the people. But she did not look across
the room toward the two figures in the
corner. She only knew there was a move-
ment in that <lirection as if some person or
persons were going out, just ao she
took her place i)y the piano. At first her
voice trembled a little, but gradually it grew
steadier, clearer, and more bird-like in its
tones, while the people listened breathlessly,
and tears rushed to the eyes of some as she
threw her whole soul into the pathetic words,
"It may be for years and it may be for ever."
She did not think of the possible presence of
Roger and Frank then. She was thinking
more of those from whom she was to separate
so soon, and she sang as she had never sung
before, so sweetly, so distinctly, that no word
was lost, and when the song was ended there
came a i)ause as if her listeners were loth to
stir until the last faint echo of the glorious
music had died awpy. Tlieu followed a
storm of applause, before which all other
cheers were as nothing, and bouquets of the
costliest kind fell in showers at her feet.
Over one of these she partly stumbled, and
wasstooping to pick it up ■'vhen a young man
sprang to her side, and picking it up for her,
said to her in tones which thrilled her
through and through, " Take my arm, Mag-
dalen, and come with me to Roger."

CHAPTER XV.

ROGER AND FRANK.

The steamer in which Roger and Frank
sailed, for America had reached New York

0r^

ROGER IRVING'S WARD.

4»

;he print was tine
•esuined. Nellie's
lagdaleu arranged
,nd smoothed the
•u her neck, and
on her arms, and
)peared before the
ailed her with ac-
II h'T brilliant per-

I ended, sent after
ler back again, not
rely to bow before
ered her with bou-
she aukuowledged
r, anil then retired,
let and her lieart
ihe thought of the
ar back among the
le left the stage
itaiiding on his feet
heartily, and was

If so, she could
in and sing " Kaih-
■et she must. They
IV, and witli a tre-
ill she quieted her
'ent again before
[ not look across
wo ii.^ures in the
there was a move-
if some person or
ut, juat aci she
»ianc. At first her
it gradually it grew
lore birddike in its
stened breathlessly,
iyes of some as she
> the pathetic words,
it may be for ever."
possible presence of
She was thinking
she was to separate
she had never sung
iiiOtly, that no word
img was ended there
jteners were loth to
echo of the glorious
Tlieu followed a
re which all other
and bouquets of the
owers at her feet,
artly stumbled, and
) when a young man
licking it up for her,
which thrilled her
Take my arm, Mag-
to Roger."

II XV.

FRANK.

ih Roger and Frank
reached New York

three days before Magdalen believed it due.
In her tasteful parlour, where her hand-
somest furniture was arranged, Mrs. Walter
Scott had received the travellers, lamenting
to Roger amid her words of welcome thai
she couiil not entertain him now as slie
could once have done when at the head of
her own household. She was a boarder still,
and her income had not increased during
the last live years. Her dresses were made
to last longer than of old, and she always
thought twice before indulging in any new
vanity. Still slie was in excellent spirits,
iuduceil in part l)y meeting !ier son again,
and partly by a plan which she ha<l in lier
mind and meant to carry out. It appeared
in the course of the evening, when si)eaking
of Magdalen, who was so soon to he gradu-
ated and return to Millbank.

" You 11 be wanting some lady of experi-
ence and culture as a conn)anion f(>r Miss
., Lennox. Have you decided upon any one
';in particular?" she said to Roijer, who
j.looked at, her in astonishment, wondering
what she meant.

She explained her meaning, and made him
understand that to a portion of the W()rld at
least it would seem highly improper for a
young lady like Magdalen to live at Mill-
bank without some suitable companion as a
'chaperone. She did not hint that she
would under any circu|nstances till that
place. Neither did l{oger then suspect her
motive. He was a little disappointed and a
little sorry, too, that any one should think it
necessary for a second party to stand be-
tween him and ^lagdalen. He had met
with many brilliant belles in foreign lands,
high born dames and court ladies with titles
.J to their names, and some of these had
smiled graciously upon the young American,
ftud thought it worth their while to flatter
lind admire him, but not one of all the gay
throng had ever made Roger's heart beat one
throb the faster. Women were not to him what
they were to fickle, flirting Frank, and that
be s\ ould ever marry did not seem to him
▼ery probable, unless he found some one
widely ditl'erent from the ladies with whom
lie had come in contact. Of Magdalen, his
baby, he always thought as he had last seen
her, with her shaker-bonnet hanging down
her hack, and eyes brimfull of tears as she
leaned over the gate watching him going
down the avenue and away from Millbank.
tTo him she was only a child, whose frolic-
lome ways i.^ud merry laugh, antl warm-
learted, impul.Mve manner he liked to re-
nember as somev.'hing which would still ex-
ist when he return 'J 1 to Millbank. But Mrs.
Valter Scott tore tj>e veil away. Magdai^..!
f^as a young lady, "» girl of eighteen, and
loger began to feel a .Httle uneasy with re-

gard to the manner in which he would be
expected to treat her. As a father, or at
most as her elder brother and guardian, he
thought ; but he could not see the necessity
; for that third person at Millbank just be-
cause a few of Mrs. Grundy's daughters
might require it. At all events he would
wait and see what Magdalen was like before
hp decided. He was to start next day to
Millbank, whither a telegram had been sent
telling of his arrival, and producing a great
commotion among the servants.

Hester was an (dd woman now of nearly
seventy, but her form was stjuare and
strainht as ever, and life was very strong
within her yet. With Aleck, wh(.m time
had touched less lightly, she still reigned su-
preme at Millbank. Iluey was long since
married and gone, ami six children played
around her door. Rosy-cheeked Hessit^, who
liad taken Ruey's ))laue, was lying out in the
gaaveyard not far from Squire Irving's monu-
ment, and liuth now did lujrwork, and came
at Hester's call, after the telegram was read.
1 he house was always kept in order, but
this summer it had undergone a thorough
renovation in honour of Roger's expected ar-
rival, and so it was only needful that the
rooms should be opened an<l aired, and fresh
linen put upon the be<ls, and water carried
to the cliambers, for Frank was to accom-
pany Roger. When all was done, the house
looked very neat and cool and inviting, and
to Roger, who had not seen it for eight years,
it seemed, with its pleasant grounds and the
scent of new-mown hay upon the lawn, like
a second Eden, as he rode up the avenue to
the door, where his ohl servants welcomed
him so warndy. Hester, who was not given
to tears, cried with joy and pride as she
led her boy into the house, and looked into
his face and told liim he had not grown old
a bit, and that she thought liim greatly im-
proved, except for that hair about his mouth,
" She'll cut that off, the very first thing she
did, for how un<ler the sun and moon was
he ever uoing to eat ' "

And Roger laughed good-humouredly, and
told her his moustache was his pet, and
wound his arm around her and kissed her
affectionately, and said she was handsomer
than any woman he'd seei; since he left
home.

" In tVie Lord's name, what kind of com-
pany must the boy have kept '!" old Hester
letorted, feclijiu' llnttc-ed nevertheless, and
thinking her boy the liaudsomest and best
she had ever seen.

It was Frank who proposed going on to
Charlestown to escort Alagdalen home, and
who suggested that they should not intro-
duce themselves until they had first seen
her, and Roger consented to the plan and

ill

-^■VW^TK-- —

MILLBANK ; OR

i I I

went with his nephew to Clyirlestown, and
took his seat among the spectators, feeling
very anxious for Magdalen to appear, and
wondering how she would look as a young
lady. He could not realize the fact that
she was eighteen. In his mind she was the
little girl leaning over the gate ,vith her eyes
swimming in tears, while Frank remembered
her standing upon the wharf, her face very
red with the autumnal wind which tossed
her dress so unmercifully, and showed her l>iLr
feet, wrinkled stockings, and shapeless ankles.
Neither of them had a programme, and thoy
did not know when she was coming, aiil
when at last she came, Roger did not recog-
nize her at first. But Frank's exclamation of
something more than surprise as he suddenly
rose to his feet, warned him that it was Mag-
dalen who bore herself so like a queen as she
took her seat at the piano. The little girl in
the shaker, leaning over the gate, faded l>e-
fore this vision of beautiful girlhood, and for
a moment Roger felt as a father might feel
who after an absence of eight years returns
to find his only child developed into a lovely
woman. His surprise and admiration kept
him silent, while his eyes took in the fresh
glowing beauty of Magdalen's face, and liis
well-trained ears drank in the glorious music
she was making. Frank, on the contrary,
was restless and impatient. Had it been
possible, he would have gone to Magdalen at
once, and stood guard over her against the
glances of those who, he felt, had no right to
look at her as they were looking. He saw
that she was the bright star around which
the interest of the entire audience centred,
and he wanted to claim her before them all as
something belonging exclusively to the Ir-
ving family, but, wedged in as he was, he
could not well ( tiect his egress, and ha sat
eagerly listening or rather looking at Mag-
dalen. He could hardly be said to hear her,
although he knew how well she was acquit-
ting herself. He was watching her glowing
face and noticing the glossy waves of her
hair, the long curls on her neck, and the
graceful motions of her white hands
and arms, and was thinking what
a regal-looking creature she was, and
how delightful it would be at Millbank,
where one could have her all to himself. He
did not regard Roger in his way at all.
Roger never cared for women as he did.
Roger was wholly given to books, and would
not in the least interfere with the long walks
and rides and titea-tetcs which Frank had
rapidly planned to enjoy with Magdalen
even before she left the stage for the first
time. When she came back to sing he could
sit still no longer, but forced his way through
the crowd, aiid wont rDuiuI to her just in
time to escort her from the stage. His ap-

pearance was 80 sudden, and Magdale^* '^'^
8o surprised, that ere she realized at all w*>at
it meant, she had taken Frank's offered arm,
and he was leading her past the group of
young girls who sent many curious glances
f.'*-er him, and whispered to each other that
he must be the younger Mr. Irving.

Frank was wonderfully improved in looks,
and there was in his manner a watchful ten-
derness and deference toward ladies, very
gratifying to those who like to feel that they
are cared for and looked after, and their
slightest wish anticipated. And Magdalen
folt it even during the mqment they were
walkmg down the hall to the little reception
room, where Frank turned her more
fully to the light, and said : "Ex-
cuse me, but I must look at you again.
Do you knov/ how beautiful you have
grown ? As your brother, I think I might
kiss you after my long absence."

Magdalen did not tell him he was not her
brother, but she teok a step backward, while
a look flashed into her eyes, which warned
Frank that his days for kissing her were over.

" Where is Mr. Irving ?" she asked ; and
then, seating her in a chair, and thought-
fully dropping the curtain so that the cool
night air, which had in it a feeling of rain,
should not blow so directly upon her un-
covered neck, Frank left her and went for
Roger.

Magdalen would have kissed Roger as she
thought of him while sitting there waiting
for hnn, but when became, and stood before
her, she would as soon have kissed Frank
himself, as the elegant-looking young man
whose dark blue eyes and rich brown hair
with a dash of gold in it, were all that were
left of the Roger who went from her eight
years ago. He was entirely different from
Frank, both in looks and style and manner,
He could not bend over a woman with such
brooding tenderness, and make her think
every thought and wish were subservient t
his own, but there was something about him ,
which impressed one with the genuine good-
ness and honesty of the man who was worth
a dozen Franks. And Magdalen felt it a:
once, and gave her hand trustingly to him,
and did not try to draw back from hia
when, as a father would have kissed his
child, he bent over her, and kissed her fair
brow, and told her how glad he was to see
her, and how much she was improved.

" I should never have recognized you but
for Frank," he said. ' ' You have changed so
much from the little girl who leaned over the
cate to bid me good-bye. Do you remeniher
it?'

Magdalen did remember it, and her sorrow
at parting with Roger, and could hardly
realize that he had come back to her again

ROGER IR VINO'S WARD.

ind Magdale" was

realized at all 'wna*

^rank's offered arm,

past the group of

any curious glances

to each other that

Ir. Irving.

improved in looks,

ner a watchful ten-

oward ladies, very

ke to feel that they

ad after, and their

id. And Magdalen

mpment they were

the little reception

turned her more

and said : " Ex-

ook at you again.

jautifui you have

er, I think I might

.bsence."

him he was not her
tep backward, while
yes, which warned
issing her were over,
g ?" she asked ; and
hair, and thought-
n so that the cool
it a feeling of rain,
Rctly upon her un-
; her and went for

I kissed Roger as she
iting there waiting
ne, and stood before
lave kissed Frank
ooking young man
i rich brown hair
were all that were
ent from her eiglit
tirely different from
(I style and manner,
a woman with such
tid make her think
were subservient t
something about hire
;h the genuine good.
man who was wortt
Magdalen felt it a:
id trustingly to hini.
iw back from hia
Id have kissed his
and kissed her fail
glad he was to see
was improver',
recognized you but
You have changed sc
•Iwho leaned over the
Do you remember

ber it, and her sorro^v
', and could hariUy
e back to her again

e was very kind, very attentive ; and she
'elt a thrill of uride as 'shu walked through
he halls or talked to her companions, with
oger and "rank on either side of her. Frank
absorbed in her as to pay no heed to thosa
round him, while Roger never for a moment
orgot that something was due toothers as well
to Magdalen. He saw her all the time, and
il^eard every word she said, and marked how
well she said it ; but he was attentive and
courteous to others, and made himself so
agreeable to Nellie Freeman, to whom Mag-
dalen introduced him, that she dreamed of
kim that night, and went next morning to
tile depot on pretence of bidding Magdalen
good-bye a second time, but really for the
Mike of seeing Mr. Irving.

Aa Roger was anxious to return home as
■oon as possible, they left Charlestown on an
early train and reached Millbank at two
o'clock. Dinner was waiting for them, while
Hester in her clean brown gingham, with her
white apron tied around her waist, stood in
ahe door, ready to welcome her young
people.

Magdalen was her first object of attention,
and the old lady kissed her luviiigly,and then
went with her to her pleasant chamber,
which looked so cool and airy with its mat-
ting, and curtains of muslin looped with
^ne, and its snowy white bed in the corner.
She could not change her dress before dinner,
for her trunks had not been sent up, but she
bathed her heated face, and put on a fresh

Sir of cuds and a clean linen collar, and
en, with her damp hair one mass of waves
and littlf^ curls, she went down to the dining-
lOom, where Koger met her at the door and
led her to the head of the table, installing
her as mistress, and bidding her do the
l^nours as the young lady of the house. In
a|>ite of her gray dress, unrelieved by any
fi^our except the garnet pin which fastened
lier collar, Magdalen looked very handsome
ai she presided at Roger's table, and her
tl^kite hands moved gracefully among the
eflh'er service , for there was fragrant coffee
foar dinner, with rich swpet cream from the
morning's milk, and Hester, who cared little
for fashions, had sent it up with the meats,
becau.se she knew Roger would like it best
that way.

The dinner over, the party separated,
Magdalen going to her room to put her things
away, Frank sauntering off to the summer-
use with his box of cigars, and Rol' r
lining Hester, who had so much to tell hnu
the affairs at Millbank since he went
ray. i

CHAPTER XVI.

LIFK AT MILLBANK.

Magdalen was very fresh and bright next

morning whtiu she went down to breakfast,
in her white cambric wrapper, just short
enough in front to show her small, trim foot
and well-shaped ankle, which Frank saw at
once. There were no wrinkles in her stock-
ings, and the little high-heeled slippers were
as unlike as possible to the big shoes which
he remembered so well, wondering at the
change, and never guessing that Magdalen's
persisting in wearing shoes too latge for her
while growing, had helped to torm the little
feet which he admired so much as they trip-
ped up and down the stairs or through the
halls, with him always hovering near. Her
bright sprightly manner, which had in it a
certain spice of recklessness and daring, just
suited him, and as the days went by, and he
became more and more fascinated with her,
he followed her like her shadow, feeling glad
that so much of Roger's attention was neces-
sarily given to his agents and overseers, who
came so often to Millbank. that he at lapt
opened an otilce in the village, where he
spent most of his time, thus leaving Frank
free to walk and talk with Magdalen as much
as he pleased. And he improved the op-
portunity, and was seldom absent from her
side more than a few moments at a time. At
first this devotion was very gratifying ica
Magdalen, who still regarded Frank as the
hero of her childhood, but after a few weeks
of constant intercourse with him, the spell
which had bound her was broken, and she
began to tire a little of his attentions, and
wish sometimes to be alone.

"One afternoon they were sitting together
by the river, on the mossy bank, beneath
the large buttonwood tree, where they had
spent so many pleasant hours in the
years gone by, and Frank was talking of his
future, and deplored his poverty as a hin-
d ance to his ever becoming popular or even
successful in anything.

*' Now, if I were Roger," he said, "with
his twenty-five thousand a year, it would
make a great difference. But here I am,
most twenty-seven years old, with no pro-
fession, no means of earning an honest liveli-
hood, and only the yearly interest of six
thousand dollars, which, if I were to indulge
my tastes, would barely keep me in cigars
and gloves and neckties. 1 tell you what,
Magdalen, it's mighty inconvenient to be so
poor."

As he delivered himself of this speech,
Frank stretched himself upon the grass and
gave a lazy puff at his cigar, while his face
wore a kind of martyred look as if the world
had dealt very harshly with him. Mas^dalen
was thoroughly angry, and her eyes Hashed
indignantly, as she turned towards him. He
had been at Millbank nearly four weeks, and
showed no intention of leaving it. "Just

MILLBANK ; OR,

'if;i

sponging hia brard out of Roger," Hester
said ; and the old lady's remarks had their
effect on Magdalen, who herself began to
wonder if it was Parnk's intention to leave
the care of his supjort entirely to his uncle.
It was her nature to nay out wliat she
thought, and turning to Frank, she said
abruptly, "If yon are so poor, why don't
you go to work uiul do something for your-
self? If I were a man, with as many
avenues open to me as there are to men, I
would not sit idly down and bemoan the fate
which had given me only six thousand dol-
lars. I'd make the most of that, and do
something for myself. I do not advise you
to go away from Millbank, if tliere is any-
thing you can do here ; but, honestly, Frank,
I think it would look better if you were tiy-
ing to help yourself instead of de[)endirijf
upon Mr. Irving, who has been so kind to
you. And what I say to you I mean also for
myself. There is no reason why I should
be any longer a dependent here, and as soon
as 1 can find a situation as teacher or
governess I shall accept it, and you will
see I can practise what I preach. I
did not mean to wound you, Frank, but
it seems to me that both of us have re-
ceived enough at Mr. Irving's hands, and
should now try to help ourselves. You are
not angry with mo, I hope ?"

She was lojliiug at him with her great
bright eyes so kindly and trustingly that he
could not be angry with her, though he
winced a little and wished that she had not
been quite so plain and outspoken with him.
It was the rirst time anyone had put it be-
fore him in plain words that he was li\ing on
Koger, and it hurt him cruelly that Magda-
len should be the one to rebuke him. Still
he would not let her see his annoyance, and
he tried to appear natural as he answered,
" I could not be angry with you, especially
when you tell me only the truth. I ought
not to live on Roger, and I don't mean to
any longer. I'll go into his office to-morrow.
I heard him say he wanted a clerk to do some
of his writing. I'll be that clerk, and work
like a dog, Will that suit you, Maggie V"

Ere Magdalen could reply, a footstep was
heard, and Roger came round a bend in the
river, fanning himself with his straw hat,
and looking very much heated with his rapid
walk.

" I thought I should find you here," he
said. " It's a splendid place for a hot day.
I wish I'd nothing to do but enjoy this deli-
cious shade as you two seem to be doing j
but I must (disturb you, Frank. Your mo-
ther has just arrived, and is quite anxious to
see you."

Frank would far rather have stayed down
by the river, and mentally wishing hia

mother in Ciuinea, he rather languidly arose
and walkcil away, leaving Magdalen alone
with Roger. Taking the seat Frank had
vacated, he laid his hat upon the grass, and
leaning his head upon his elbow begun to
talk very freely and familiarly, asking Mag-
dalen if she missed her school-mates any,
and if she did not think Millbank a much
pleasanter pla'-e tiian Cliailestown.

Here was the very opening Magdalen de-
sired ;— here a chance to prove that she
waa sincere in wishing to do something for
herself, and in a few words she made her in-
tentions known to Roger, who quickly lifted
himself from his reclining position, and
turned toward her a troul)led, surorised face
as he asked why she wished to leave Mill-
baiiii. ** Are vou not happy hero, Mag-
da V"

He had written that name once to her, but
had not called her thus before in her hear-
ing ; and now as he did so his voice was so
low and kind and winning, that tlie tears
yprang to Magdalen's eyes, and the ftdt for a
moment a pang of liome-sickuess at the
thought of leaving Millbank.

•' Yes, very happy," she aaid ; *' but that
is no reason why 1 should remuni i^ depen-
dent upon you, and before I left tfie send-
nai'v I determined to earn my own living aa
soon as an opportunity presented itself. I
cannot forger, that I have no right to be here,
no claim upon you."

" No claim upon me, Magdalen ! No
right to be here !" Roger exclaimed. " As
well might a daughter say she had no right
in her father's house. "

" I am not your daughter, Mr. Irving. I
am nobody's daughter, so far as I know ; or
if I am, 1 ought perhaps to blush for the
parents that deserted me. I have no name,
no home, except what you so kindly gave
uie, and you have been kind, Mr. Irving,
very, very kind, but that is no reason why
I should burden you now that I am able to
take care of myself. O, mother, mother I
if I could only find her, or know why she
treateil me so cruelly."

Magdalen was sobbing now, with her face
buried in her hands, and Roger could see
the great tears dropping from between her
lingers. He knew she was crying for the mo-
ther siie had never known, and that shame,
quite as much as filial affection,was the cause
of her distress, and he pitied her so much,
knowing just now she felt ; for there hail
been a time when he, too, was tormented
with doubts concerning his own mother, the
golden-haired Jessie, who was now cherish-
ed in his memory as the purest of women.
He waa very sorry for Magdalen, and very
uncertain as to what, under the circum-
stances, it was proper for him to do.

ROGER IRVINCrS WARD.

languidly arose
Vlagdalen aloue
leat Frank had
the grass, and
elbow beg;in to
y, asking Mac;-
idol-mates any,
illbank a much
jtown.

ig Magdalen de-
prove that sho

something tor
he made her in-
ho quickly lifted
; position, and
!l, sunirised face
p.d to leave Mill-
ippy hero, Alag-

5 once to her, but
•ore in her hear-
his voice was so
, that tlie tears
and the felt for a
-sickness at the

said ; " but that
remuni ^ depeu-

1 left the semi-
ny own living as
?sented itsidf. I
, right to be here,

No
xclaimed. ** As
he had no right

Magdalen !

Mr. Irving. 1

far as I know ; or

to blush for the

; have no name,

so kindly gave
ud, Mr. Irving,

uo reason why
lat I am able to
mother, mother 1
)r know why she

ow, with her face
Roger could see

rom between her
crying for the mo-

and that shame,
tion,was the cause
ed her so much,
; for there had
was tormented

own mother, the
was now cherish-

purest of women.

igdalen, and very

ider the circum-

for him to do.

j'he world said she was a young lady,
Hid if Roger had seen as much of her during
the last four •weeks as Frank had seen,
le might have thought so too. But so
ibsorbed liad he been in his business, and so
inch of his time had been taken up with
looking over accounts and receipts, and
listening to what his agent had done, that he
Hhad given no very special attention to Mag-
•vdalen, further than that perfect courtesy
*nd politeness which he would award to any
lady. He knew that she was v^ry bright
and pretty and sprightly, and that the trip-
ping of lier footste[)s, and the rustle of her
white dress, and the sound of her clear, rich
voice, breaking out in merry peals of laut,'h-
ter.or singing in the twilight, made Milll<ank
Tery pleasant ; but he thought of her still as
« child, ftin little child, whom he had held in
his lap in the dusty car and hushed to sleep
in his arms. She was only eighteen, he was
thirty-two ; and with that ditference between
them surely he might soothe and comfort
her as if she really were his daughter.
Moving so near to her that the muslin dress
•wept across his feet, he laid his hand \ ery
gently uj)on her hair, and Magdalen, when
•he felt the pitying, caressing touch of that
^veat broad, warm hand, which seemed in
■onie way to encircle and shield her from all
Oare or sorrow, bowed her head upon her lap,
and cried more bitterly than before, — cried
now with a feeling of utter desolation, as she
began dimly to realize what it would be to
go away from Millbank and its master.

"Pool Magda," he said, and his voice had
in it all a father's tenderness, "I am .sorry
to see you so much distressed. I can guess
in part the caus3 of your tears. You are
crynig about your mother, just as I have
<aried for mine many and many a time."

"No, not as you have cried for j'ours,"
Ma^'dalen said, lifting up her head and
flasliing her brilliant eyes upon him.
" Hester has told me about your mother.
You believe her pure and good, while mine —
<Ax, Mr. Irving, I don't know what I believe
of mine."

" Try to believe the best, then, until you
know the worst ; " and Roger laid his arm
•cross Magdalen's shoulder and drew her
nearer to him, as he continued : "I have
thought a great deal about that woman who
left you in my care. 1 believe she was crazy,
made so by some great sorrow, — your father's
death, perhaps, — for she was dressed in
^lack ; and, if so, she was not responsible for
^hat she did, and you need not question her
lotive. She had a young innocent face,
id bright handsome eyes like yours,
[agda."

Every time he spoke that name, Magdalen
nit a strange thrill creep through her veins.

and she grew very quiet while Roger talked
to her of her mother, and the time when he
found himself with u helpless child upon his
hands.

" I adopted you then as my own — my littlo
baby," he saiil. " Yon h.id nothing to do
with it ; the bargain was of n>y making, and
you cannot break it. I have never given up
my guardianship, never rrean to give it up until
some one claims you who has a better right
than I to my little girl. And this I am say-
ing in answer to your proposition of going
away from Millbrnk, because you have no
ri ■ ^ here,--no claim on me. I am sorry
y>.,t shuuUi I'eel so, — you hdvr a claim on me
— I canno let you go, — Millbank would be
very lonely without you, Magda."

He panned a moment, and, looking off
upon the hills across tlio river, seemed to be
thinking intently, liut it was not of the
interpretation wliich many young girls of
eighteen might put upon his words and man-
ner. Nothing could be further from his
niitid than making love to Magdalen. He
really felt as if he stooi! to her in tlrj relation
of a father, and that she had the same claim
upon him which a child has upon a parent.
Her propi)3iti()n to leave Millbank dnturbed
him, and led him to think that perhaps he
was in Bome way at fault. He had not l)een
very attentive to her ;- he had been so mucli
absorbed in his Inisiness as to forget that
any attentions were due from him as master
of the house. He had left all these things
to Frank, Avhoknew so much better how to
entertain young ladies than he did ; but he
meant to do better ; and his eyes came back
at last from the hills across the river, and
rested very kindly on her, as he said :

" I am thinking, Magda, that possibly j
may have beeu^'eniiss in my attentions to you
since my return. I am not a lady's man, in
the common acceptation of the term ; but I
have never meant to neglect you ; and when
I have seemed the most forgetful, you have
been, perhaus, the most in my mind ; and
the coming home at night from the business
which nearly drives me craz}', has been very
pleasant to me, because i/<iii were there at
uur home 1 will call it, for it is as much yours
as mine, and I want you to consider it so.
It is hardly probable that I shall ever marry.
I have lived to be thirty-two without find-
ing a woman whom I would care to make my
wife, and, after thirty, one's chances of ma-
trimony lessen. But, whether I marry or
not, I shall provide for you, as well as Frank,
who should perhaps have had more of my
father's property. His mother once believed
there was another will — a later one — which
gave him Millbank,and disinherited me ; but
that is all past now."

This was the first time Magdalen had

IH*-'^'^

T^'

1^!

MILLBANK ; OR,

ever heard t a will matter put in so strong
a light, and, spriuging to her fett, bbe ex-
claimed :

" Uive Millbank to Frank, and disinherit
you I I never heard that hinted before. I
understood that the later will merely save
more to Frank than the Hvu thousand uulTars.
I never dreamed, I did not know — when
I — oh, Mr. Irving, I have buen such a mon-
ster !"

She was wrinf^ine ln'v hands.in her distress
at having believed in and even hunted fur a
will which would take Millbank from Roger,
who looked at her in aatoni8hmeat,and asked
what she meant.

" Have you, too, heard of the will trouble;
who t(dd you ?" he asked. And with her
eyes full of tears, which with a qnick nervous
motion of licr fingers she dashed away, Mag-
dalen replied :

" B>auk told mo first years ago, and his
mother told me again, but not of th^- disin-
heritance. She said the will was better for
Frank, and I — oh, Mr. Irving, forgive me — I
hunted for it ever so much, in all of the
rooms, and in the garret,where Hester found
me and seemed so angry, that I remember
thinking she knew something about it if
there was one, and like a silly, curious ;;irl
I said to myself, I'll keep hunting till 1 find
it ; but I didn't. Oh, Mr. Irving, believe
me, I didn't !" " Don't look at me so,
please," Magdalen exclaimed in a tremor of
distress at the troubled, sorry look in Roger's
face — a look as if be had been wouuded in
his own home by his own friends. " I
might have hunted more perhaps, "Magdalen
went on, too truthful to keep back anything
which concerned herself; "but so much
happened, and I went away to school and
forjjot all about it. Will you forgive me for
trying to turn you out of doors ?'' She was
kneeling by him now as he sat upon the
bank, and her hands were clasped upon his
arm, while her tearful face was turned im-
ploringly to his.

Unclasping her hands from his arm, and
keeping them between his owb, Roger said
to her :

" You distress yourself unnecessarily
about a thing which was done with no inten-
tion to injure me. I know, of course, that
you would not wish me to give up the home
I love so well ; but, Magdalen, if there was
a later will it ought to be found and restitu-
tion made."

"Yo« do not believe there was such a will
— you surely do not," Magdalen asked, ex-
citedly ; and Roger replied :

" No, I do not. If I did I would move
heaven and earth to find it, for in that case
I should have been living all these years on
what belonged to others. Don't look so

frightened, Magdalen," Roger continued,
playfully touching her cheek, which had
grown pale at the mere idea of his being
obliged to i{ive up Millliank. " No harm
should come to you. I should take care of
my little girl. I would work with my hands
if nefiessary, and you could help me. How
would you like that?'

It Was rather a dangerous situation for a
girl like Magdalen. H)-r hands wure im-
prisoned by Roger, who.so eyes rested so
kindly upon her as ho spoke of their work-
ing for each other, and asked how she would
like it.

Ifow would nhe like, it t She was a woman,
with all a woman's impulses. And Roger
Irving was a splendid-looking man, with
something very winning in his voice and
manner, and it is not strange if at ihat mo-
ment a life of toil with Roger looked more
desirable to Magdalen than a life of ease at
Millbank withouthim.

" If it over chances that you leave Mill-
bank, I will gladly work like a slave for you,
to atone, if posaitde, for my meildlesome
curiosity in trying to find that will," Mag-
dalen replied ; and Roger responded :

" I wish you to find it if there is one, and
I give you full permission to search as much
and as often as you like. You spoke of Hes-
ter's havin>^ come upon you once when you
M'ere looking ; where were you then ?"

"Up in the garret," Magdalen said.
"There are piles of rubbish there, and an old
barrt^l of papers. I was tumbling
them over, and I remember now
that Hester said something about
its being worse for me if the will was found ;
and she was very cross for several days, and
very rude to Mrs. Irving, who, she said,
•put me up.' She never liked Mrs. Irving
much, although latterly she has treated her
very civilly."

"And do you like my sister Helen?"
Roeer asked, a doubt beginning to cross his
mind as to the propriety of carrying out a
plan which had recently suggested itself to
him. Mrs. Walter Suott, who never did
anything without a motive, hud petted and
caressed and flattered Magdalen ever since
she had fitted her out for school, and served
herself so well by the means. Shehad called
upon her twice at the seminary, had written
her several affectionate letters, and it was
natural that Magdalen, who was wholly un-
suspicious, should like her ; and she express-
ed her liking in such strong terms that
Roger's oWen feeling of distrust, — if it could
be called by so harsh a name, — gave way,
and he spoke of what his sister had said to
him in New York with regard to Magdalen
having a companion or chaperone at Mill-
bank.

loo
shf

haf

ItodKR 1FI\'IN(;'S WAR I).

jjer continuoil,
ik, which hat!
ja of his being
" No harm
j1(1 take care of
with my hands
el I) me. How

I situation for a
landa wore im-
eyes rested sw
B of their work-
\ how she would

le was a woman,
68. And Roger
linj? man, with
II his voice and
ige if at that ma-
iij^er looked more
a life of ease "*

1 you leave Mill-
e a slave for you,
my meddlesome
that will," Mag-
isponded :
f there is one, and
to search as much
^ou spoke of Hes-
u once when yon
you then ? '

Magdalen said.
1 there, and an old
was tumbling
remember now
)methin(? about
le will was found ;

several days, and
(T, who, she said,
liked Mrs. Irving
16 has treated her

ly sister Helen!"

nning to cross his

of carrying out a

sugpested itself to

;. who never did

., had petted and

agdalen ever since

school, and served

lis. Shehad called

linary, had written

letters, and it was

ho was wholly un-

; and she express-
itrong terms that
istru3t,— if it couM
name,— gave way,

sister had said to
•ei?ard to Magdalen
chaperone at Mill-

*• You know, iieriiaps," he said, " that the
world hud estahlinht'd certain codes of pro-
priety, one of which says that a young lady
like you should not live alone with an old
iiachelor like nie. I don't see the harm my-
Molf, but sister Helen does, and she knows
what is proper, of course. She has made
propriety the business of hor life, and it has
occurrcil to me that it might bo well for her
to stay at Millbauk altog'jther,— that is, if it
woulil please you to have her here.'

would feel toward his daughter ; but some
how that little episode down by the river,
when she had knelt before him, with her
hands upon his arm, and hor Hushed, eaj,'ur
face HO near to bin, had stirred a new set of
feelings in his heart, and made him, for
the Hrnt time in his life, averse to being ad-
dressed by her as " Mr. Irvinif. ' And when
she asked him wliat she could do to sh(»w how
glad she w.is, he said :

" I know you are Kla<l, — I can see it in

Magdalen felt that she was competent to your eyes— and I want nothing in return un

take care of herself, hut if she muitf have a
companion she preferred Mrs. Irving, and
assented roadily to a plan which had origin-
ated wlioJly in Mrs. Walter Scott's fertile
brain, and to the accomplishment of which
all her energies had been directed for the last
few years.

"It is fortunate that she is here," Roger
said, "as we can talk it over together better
than we could write about it. I shall be
glad to assist Helen in tlmt way, and it may
prove a pleasant arrangement for all parties."

They were walking back to the house
now, across the pleasant tields which were a
part of Roger's inheritance, and if in the
^oung man's heart there was a feeling that
it would bo hard to give up all this, it was
but the natural renult of his recent conversa-
tion concerning the imaginary will. That
such a document existed, he did not believe,
however ; and his momentary distiuiet had
passed before he reached the house, which
looked so cotil and inviting amid the dense
shade of die maples and elms.

" Come this way, Magdalen," Roger said,
as 'Aiey entered the hall ; and Magdalen
went with him into the music-room, starting
with surjirisc', and uttering an exclamation of
delight as she saw a beautiful new piano in
place of the old rattling instrument which I
had occupied that corner in the morning, i

" Oh, I am so glad ! I can now play with j
some satisfaction to myself and pleasure to ;
others," she saic', running her ringers rapidly \
oyer the keys ; then as her eye fell upon the
silver plate, with her name, ' Magdalen ]
Lennox," engraved upon it, she shopped sml- i
denly, and iier eyes rilled with tears at once j
as she said : j

•'Oh, Mr. Irving, how good you are to

less, indeed, you drop the formal title of .Mr.
Irving, and give me the more familiar one
of Roger. Couldn't yctu do that, Magda ?"

Magdalen would as soon have thought of
calling the cleri^yman of the parish by his
first name, as to have addressee! her guardian
as Roger, — and she shook her head laughing-
ly:

"No, Mr. Irving, you can never be Roger
to me, — it would bring you too much on
a level with Frank, and that I shouUl not
like."

Perhaps Ro'^jor was not altogether dis-
pleased with her answer, for he smiled kind-
ly upon her, and aaked if he would have to
fall very far to reach his nephew's level.
"In some respects, yes," was Magdalen's
reply, as she commenced a brilliant polka
which brought Fnlnk himself into the par-
lour, followed by his mother, who kissed Mag-
dalen lovingly, and then stood with both
her hands folded on the young girl's shoulder
as she went on playing one jiiece after an-
other, and making such melody as had not
been heard ?ince the days when Jessie was
<]'jeen of Millbank and ulayed in the twilight
or her gray-haired husband.

Mrs. Walter Scott was very sociable and
kind and conciliatory, and lavish of her
praises of Millbank, which she admired so
much, saying she was h;df sorry she came,
as it would be so hard to go back to her close
hot rooms in New York. Then she said she
expected to have her house on hor hands
altogether, as her tenants were intending
lo go South in November, and how
she should live without the rent she did not
know.

" Perhaiis I can suggest something which
will meet your approval," Roger said ; and

me ! what can I do to show that I appreciate | then he proceeded to speak of his plan that'
your kindness ?" | iris sister should stay at Millbank with Mag-

Roger had managed to have tlie piano i dalen. Mrs. Walter Scott had never thoiKjht

brought to the house while she was away,

iatending it as a surprise and he enjoyed it

|thoroughly, and thought how beautiful she

Iwas, with those tear-drops glittering in her

|great dark eyes. She was one of whom any

parent might be proud, and he was proud of

ler, and called himself he" father, and tried

of such a thing, — ^^he did noc know that she
could live out of New York — and nothing
but her love for Magdalen and her desire to
serve Roger, who had done so much for
Frank, could induce her to consider the pro-
position for a moment. This was what she

. ffaid : but when live hundred dollars a year
o believe that he felt toward her as a fathe*" \ was added to her fondness for Magdalen and

M^ita

3W-V—

MILLBANK ; OR,

: I

her dcHire to nerve linger, alio conietited to
iiiurlyr luMiflf, ntxl suceiitetl the ttituatioii
with uH iiiiicli amiability ukI reHi^nation an
it it htt'l not l>e«;ii the very oliject for which
ahe tiud litfiiBtiiviii^' evur Hinue li<:r tirnt viait
to OiarleRtown, when she torcfuw what Mau-
(lah-n wouhl he, and what Kogir would do
for her. It wan dcoidcil that Frank, too,
ihoL-ld remain ut Milll)ank uh a clerk in
l!o>ier'b ollicf, Mhi;ro he protended t«) Htudy
law, and where, after hiu writing wau done,
be Hpent his wliole time in HUioking uigarH
and following Magdalen, who bometiinea
teased him unmercifully, and then drove
him nearly wild with her lively dailies and
bewitching ways, 'i'hey were very gay at
Millbank that autumn ; and in the sad years
which followed, Magdalen often looked
back upon that time as the happiest period
of her lile.

lloger was naturally domestic in his tastes,
and would at any time have prefeired a quiet
evening at home with his fandly to the K^y-
est assemblage; but his sister-in-law maile
him believe that, as the master of Millbank,
he owed a great deal to society, ami so he
threw open his doors to his frienJf.who gladly
availed themselves of anything which would
vary the monotony of their lives. Always
bright an<t sparkling and brilliant, Magdulen
reigned triumphant as the- belie on all vicca-
sions. She was a general favourite, and as
the autumn advanced, the young maidens of
Belvidere, — who had dreamed that to be
mistress of Millbank might be an honour in
store for one of them,— began to notice the
soft, tender look in Roger's eyes as they
followed Magdalen's movements, whether in
the merry dunce, of which she never tired,
or at the piano, where she excelled all others
in the freshness of her voice and the bril-
liancy of her execution. Frank, too, with
bis gentlemanly manners and foreign air,
and JVlrs. Waller IScott, with her city style
and elegance, added to the attractions at
Millbank, where everything wore so bright
a hue, with no shadow to foretell
the dark storm which was coining.
The v:ill seemed to be entirely for-
gotten, though IkOger dreamed once that it
had been found, — and by Magdalen, too, —
and that, with an aching heart, he read that
he was u beggar, made so by hi*, father, and
that he had gone out from his beautiful home
penniless, but not alone, or utterly hopeless,
for Magdalen was with him, — her dark eyes
beamed upon him, and her hands ministered
to him just as she had said they would,
should he ever come to what he had.

Koger was glad this was only a dream, —
glad to awake in his own pleasant cliamber
and hear the robins sing in the maple-tree
outside, and see from his window the scarlet

tints with which the autumnnl frosts were
b'jginning to touch the maples. He >waa
strongly attached t>> his beautiful home, and
to lase it now would be a bitter trial.

Hut he had no expectation of losing it. It
belongvd to him without a iiuestiou, and all
through the autumn months he went on
btautifyi.ig and im[)roving it, and studying
constantly some new surprise which would
add to the ha]ipines8 of those ho bad gathered
around him, bud whose comfort he held far
above his own Wholly uusellish, and libe-
ral almost to u fault, he spent his money
freely, not only for those of his own house-
hold, but for the poor, who had known and
loved him when a l-oy, and who now idolized
and honoured him us a man, and lilessed
the day which had brought him back to their
midst,- the kind and considetate employer
of many of them, — the friend of the des-
titute and needy, — the cultivated gentle-
man in society, and the courteous master of
Millbank.

CHAPTER XVII.

LOVE-MAKIN(; AT MII.l.HANK.

The holdiays were over. They had been
spent in New York, where, with Mrs. Wal-
ter Scott as her chaperone, Magdalen had
jiassefl a few weeks, and seen what was
meant by fashionable society. But she did
not like it, and was glad to return to
Millbank.

Roger had spent only a few days with
her in New \ork, but Frank had been
her constant attendant, and not a little
proud of the beautiful girl who attracted
so much attention. While there Magdalen
had more than once heard mention made of
Alice Grey, who had returned to America
and was spending a few weeks in New
York, where she would have been a belle
but for her poor health, which prevented
her from mingling much in fashionable so-
ciety. Frank had called on her several
times, and occasionally she heard him ral-
lied upon his penchant for Miss Gtey by
some one of his friends, who knew them
both. Frank would have denied the charge
openly had Magt^alen's manner towards him
been diH'erent from what it was, She called
him her brother, and by always treating
him as such, made anything like love-
making on his part almost impossible ; and
so Frank thought to rouse her jealousy by
allowing her to believe th<\t there was
something serious between himself and
Alice Grey. But in this he was
mistaken. The charm l:e had once
possessed for Magdalen, when, as a chil'',
she enshrined him her hero and lived up( n
his smiles, was broken, aid though she

ths
of
aga
so,
Frd
J
ma

^1 froita were
Am. He .wa»
iful lioinu, and
IT trial,
f l<iHiii){ it. It
.'Htion, ami all
1 he went on
ami BtmlyinK
wliich woulil
10 httil Kfttliered
it he held far
jltish, and libe-
peut his money
lis own house-
ad known and
ho now idolized
m, and blcRBcd
iin hack to their
II ate (ni^loyer
iitl of the dcH-
tivated gentle-
;eou8 master of

11.

I.LHANK.

They had been
with Mrs. Wal-

I, Magdalen had
Been what was

ty. But she did

1 to return to

few days with
rank had been
1(1 not a little
who attracted
there Magdalen
mention made of
rned to America
weeks in ^ cw
,ve been a belle
vhich prevented
fashionable so-
on her several
lieard him ral-
)!• Miss Gtey by
vho knew them
knied the charge
nner towards him
was. She called
always treating
thing like love-
t impossible ; ami
her jealousy by
th<\t there was
eu himself and
this he was
he had once
when, as a chil',
and lived upc u
aid though she

UmiEH lUVINli'8 WAUU.

likod him j^reatly. and showoil that nho did
■o, ihu know that any stronger tooling to-
WAnU hna wiut utterly imposmbU', and wan
delightoil at the pronpect of hi« trauHtorring
to anothor «omo of the attontionn winch
were becoming distaHtetul to her, from the
fact of their being ho very marked and h)ver-

like.

Onic «he upoke to liitu herself of Alice,
wlio wan stopping at the .St. Denm, antl
anked, " Why do you not bring her to see
mo or Ift nie go to her Y" and Frank
hail answered her, " .Muh (Jrey is too much
of an invalid to make or receive calls from
BtrangeiH. Slio usUrt atter you with a great
deal of interoitt, and hopes—"

Frank liesituted a moment, and Magdalen
playfully caught him up, saymg "Hopes
to know me well through you. Is thai it,
and iH what 1 have heard about you true t
I am HO glad, for 1 know I shall like her,
though I usetl to be jealous of her years ago
when you talked ho niiali of her."

Magdalen wan very Niirjere in what uhe
said, but foolish Frank, who set a far
greater value upon himself thaii others set
upon him, and who could not understand
how any girl could be inditlerent to him,
was conceited en<" li to fancy that lie tle-
ttcted something like i-iiijue in Magdalen's
manner, ami that she was uut as much de-
lighted with Alice Urey ad she would like
him to think. 'L'his suited him, and so he
made uo reply, except, " I am glad you are
pleased with her. She is worthy of your
love."

And thus was the conviction strengthened
ill Magdalen's mind that she might some day
know Alice (Jrey intimately as the wife of
Frank, towards whom she showed at once a
greater degree of familiarity than she had
done hitherto, making liim think his ruse a
successtuloue, which would in due time bear
the desired fruit. Meanwhile his motlier
had her own darling scheme, which she was
adroitly managing to carry out. Once she
would have spurned the thought of accept-
ing Magtlalen as her daughter-in-law, but
she had changed her mind atter a conversa-
tion with Koger, who, wholly deceived by
the crafty, fascinating woman, had grown
very conhilential, and been led on to admit
that in case lie never married, or even if he
did, Magdalen would stand to him in the
relation of a child, and share in his property.
Indeed, from his conversation it would seem
that, feeling impressed with the uncertainty
of life, and having uo foolish prejudices
against making his will, he had alreuly done
so, and provided for both Magdalen and
Frank.

He did not state what provision he had
made|for them, and his sister did not ask

him. She preferred to lind out in some other
Viay, if poaHible, and not betray the interest
nhu felt in the matter. So she merely
thanked him for rcmembi'img Frank, for
whom ho hud done ao much, and then at
once changed the conversation. .She did not
I seem at all curious, and K'ger, who liked
' her now much better than when he w»a a
! boy, never dreamed how the next day,
^ while he wum in his ntlice and .Mngduleii was
I away on some eriand fni old llchter, the
I writing-desk, which still stnod in the library,
I was viMited by .Mrs. Walter Sc»)tt, who
knew that some ot his papers were k«'pt
ther»-, and wh(tHe curio'Oty was rewarded by
a sight of the desired document. It was
not sealed, and with » timid glance at the
door Bhe opened it nervously, but dare not
stop to read the wtiole lust Mtinu one should
surprise her. Rapidly her eye ran over the
paper til it caught the name of Magdalen,
coupled witli one hundred thou.'-and dollars.
That was to be her marriage portion, paid
on her bridal day, and Mrs. \Valter Scott
was about to read further when the sound
of a footstep warned her that some one was
coming. To put the paper back in its placo
was the work of a moment, and then, with
a most innocent look on her face, the lady
turned to meet old Hester Floyd, whoso
gray eyes looked sharply at her, and who
merely nodded in rej)ly to her woids of ex-
planation —

" 1 am looking at tliis silver plate over tho
doors of the writing-desk. How it is tar-
nished ! One can scarcely make out thu
Hcjuire'a name. 1 wish you'll set IJuth to
polishing it."

Tho plate was polished within tifteeu
minutes by Hester herself, who had
caught the rustle of papers and the
quick shutting of the drawei. She
kuew the tarnihlie<l plate was a prettnce,aiul
stood guard till Roger came. He merely
laugtied at her suspicions, but w hen a few
days after Mrs. \\ alter Scott found an op-
portunity to try the drawer again, she fttund
It locked, and all her liopes of ascertaining
how Frank fared in the will were eti'ectually
cutoH'. But she knew about Magdalen.
Uiie hundred thousand dollars as a marriago
portion was worth considering, and Mrs.
Walter .Scott did consider it, ami it out-
weighed any scruples she might otherwise
have had concerning Magdalen's birth, and
made her doubly gracious to the j'(jung giii
whom she sought .is her future daughter-
in-law.

That was just before they went to New
York, where the favour with which Magda-
len was received confirmed her in her inttn-
tiona to wiu the hundred thousand dollais.
Every opportunity for throwing the youi.g

MILLBANK ; OR,

people together was seized upon, and if by
chance she heard the name of Alcie Grey
coupled with her son's, ahe smiled incredu-
lously, and said it was a mosi absurd idea
that Frank should wish to marry into a
family where there was hereditary insanity,
as dke'knew was the case in Miss Grey's.

After their return to Millbank she re-
solved to push mattors a little, and po one
afternoon, when she chanced to be r/Jkinp
with Frank from the office to the house, she
broached the subject by asking how long he
intended to let matters go on as they were
going, and why he did not atonce propose to
Magdalen, and lot keep her in susperse ?

" Suspense I mother ;" and Frank looked
up joyfully, " Do you think — do you be-
lieve Magdalen really cares for me ? I have
been afraid it was only a sisterly regard, such
as she wovild feel for me were I really her
brother."

"She must 'je a strange girl to conduct
herself towards you as she does and not
seriously care for you," Mrs. Walter Scott
replied ; and Frank continued, " She has
been different since we came from New York,
I know, and has not kept me quite so much
at arm's-length. Mother," and Frank spoke
more energetically than before, " I am so
glad you have broken the ice ; so glad you
like V r and are willing. I did not know
but you might object;, you are so straight
laced about blood and birth and all that."

" I am a little par'^iouiar about such
things, I'll admit," Mrs. Irving replied ;
"but in Magdalen's easel am I'^ady to make
an exception. She is a splendid girl, and
created a great sensation in New York ;
while, better than all, si 3 is, or will be, an
heiress. Roger has made his will, and oa
her bridal day she is to have one hundred
thousand dollars dowry. '

" How do you know that ?" Frank asked
quickly, and his mother replied : " No mat-
ter how. It is sufficient that I do know it,
and with povertj'' staring us in the face the
ooner you appropriate that hundred thou-
sand tiie better for both of us. "

"Mother," and Frank spoke sternly, "I
Avonder what you take me for. A mere
mercenaiy wretch ? Understand plainly
that I am not so base as that, and I love
Magdalen well enough to marry her if she
was never to have a penny in the world.
Much as I hate work I could work
for her, and a life of poverty {[shared
with her has more attractions for me than
all the kingdoms in the world shared with
another. "

They hrtd reached Millbank by this time,
and Magdalen met them at the door. She
had been out for a drive, and the exercise
aud clear wintry air had brought a deeper

glow than usual to her cheeks and madp her
eyes like diamonds. She had never been
more beautiful to Frank than 'she was that
evening in her soft crimson dress, with her
hair arranged in long curls, which fell about
her face and neck in such profusion. Mag-
dalen did not often curl her hair ; it was too
much trouble, she said, and she had onlv
done so to-day because of something which
Roger had said to her. He had been stand-
ing with her before the picture of his mother,
whos : golden hair covered her like a veil,
and to Magdalen, who admired the flowing
tresses, he had said, "Why don't you wear
curls, Maj^'^a ? I like so much to see them
whei I know they are as natural as yours
wouht be."

That afternoon Magdalen had taken more
than usual pains with her toilet, and Celine,
the French maid, whom Mrs. VValter Scott
had introduced into the house, had gone into
ecstasies over the long, beautiful curls which
fell almost to Magdalen's waist and eome-
wiiatsoftentd her dashing style of beauty,
lioger, too, had complimented her, wheu
about four o'clock he came in, saying he •vz.i
going to drive out a mile or two from Mill-
bank, and asking her to accompany him.
The day was very cold, and with careful
forethought he had seen that she was warmly
clad, had himself put the hot soap- stone to
ler feet, and wrapping the fur robes around
hi'r, had looked into her bright face and
starry eyes.aud asked if she was comfortable.
On their re'^urn to Millbank, he had carefully
lifted her from the sleigh and carried her up
the steps into the hall, where he sal, her down,
calling her Mother Bunch, with all her wraps
are>'!id her, aud trying to help her remove
mem. Roger was a Tittle awkward in any-
thing pertaijiing to a woman's gear, but he
ii'anaged to unpin the shawl aud untie the
vi]>bons of the pretty coquettish rigolette,
which were in a knot and troubled him some-
what, bringing his facH so close to Magdalen's
that her curls fell across hia shoulder and he
felt her breath upon his cheek.

" Your ride has done you good, Magda"
You are looking charmingly," he said, when
at last she was undone aud stood before the
lire. He was obliged to gc- out agaiii, and
as it was not likely he should return till late,
they were not to wait dinner for him, he
said.

Something in his manner toward her more
than his words had affected Magdalen with a
sweet sense of hanpiness, and her face was
radiriut as she met Frank in the hall, and
went with him to •'^he dining-room, where
dinner was waiting for them. She explained
that Roger would not be there, and then,
as Frank took the head of the ta'ole, rallied
him upon his awkwardness in ca^'viog and

' i'

ro(;eu iRViNirs ward.

i and madp her
,d never been

she wau that
iress, with her
hich fell about
fusion. Mag-
air ; it was too

she had only
imething which
lad been stanu-
3 of his mother,
aer like a veil,
red the flowing
don't you wear
ch to see them
ural as yours

had taken more
ilet, and Celine,
. Walter Scott
e, had gone into
;iful curls which
aist and some-
;yle of beauty,
ited her, wheu
a, saying he w&j
wo from Mill-
icompany him.
d witli careful
she was warmly
ot soap stone to
ur robes around
right face and
kvas comfortable,
he had carefully
1 carried her up
he sat her down,
ith all her wraps
elp her remove
wkward in any-
's gear, but he
and untie the
attish rigolette,
ubled him some-
se to Magdalen' i
shoulder and he
k.
good, Magda"
he said, when
stood before the
out again, and
return till late,
uer for him, he

toward her more
Magdalen with a
d her face was
the hall, and
ng-rooi>i, where
She explained
here, and then,
he ta'ole, rallied
in carving and

his absent-mindedness in general. He had a
bad headache, he said, and after dinner was
over and they had adjourned to the library,
where their evenings were usually passed, he
lay down upon the couch and looked ,o pale
and tired, that Magdalen's sympathy was
awakened at once, nnd she insisted upon
doing something for him. Since their return
from New York she had %een far more fami-
liar in her interco" »-';o with him than she
would have been had she not believed there
was something betM'een him and Alice (irey
which might ripen into love. With no fears
for herself, she could afford to be very
gracious, and being naturally something of a
coquette, she had tormented and teased poor
Frank until he had some reason for believing
that his affection for her was rt^nrned. and
that his suit would not be disregarded should
he ever urge it upon lier. With the remem-
brance of Roger s words and manner thrilling
every nerve, sl;e was in an unusually soft,
amiable mood to-night, and knelt at last by
Frank's side and ofiFered to liathe his aching
head.

" The girls at school used to tell me there
was some mesmerism in my fingers," she
said, " some power to drive away pain or
exorcise evil spirits. Let me try their effect
on you."

Mrs. Walter Scott, who had been watch-
ing the progress of matters, found it con-
venient just then to leave the room, and
Frank was alone with Magdalen Fjr a
few moments her white fingers threaded his
hair, brushing it back from his forehead and
pas&ing lightly over his thrcbbing temples
until it was not in human nature to endure
any longer, and rising suddenly from his re-
clining position, Frank clasped his arms
around her, and straining her to his bosom,

Eressed kiss after kiss upon her lips, while
e poured into her astonished ear the story
of his love, telling her how h)ngago it began,
— telling her how dear she was to him,--
how for her sake he had lingered at Mill-
bank trying to do something for himself,
because she had once sugjijested that such a
thing would be gratifying to lier — how
thoughts of her were constantly in his mind,
whether awake or asleep, and lastly, tliat
his mother approved i;is choice and would
gladly welcome her as a daugliter.

As he talked, Magdalen had struggled to
her feet, her cheeks burning with surjirise
and mortitication, and sorrow too, that
Frank should have misjudged her so. She
knew he was in earnest, and she pitied him
80 much, knowing as she did how hopeless
was his suit.

" Speak to me," he said at last, " if it is
only to tell me no. Anything is better than
your silence. ''

"Oh, Frank," Magdalen began, "I am
sorry, because — "

" Don't tell me no. i will not listen to
that answer," Frank burst out impetuously,
forgetting what he had just said when he
begged her to speak. " You do like me, or
you have seemed to, and have given mc some
encouragement, or I should net have told
you what I have. Don't you like me, Mag-
dalen ? "

"Yes, very much, but not the way you
mean. I do not like you well enough to
take you for my husband. And, Frank,
what of Alice Grey ? You nay 1 have en-
couraged you, and perhaps 1 have. I'll
admit that since I thought y^.a loved Miss
Grey, i have been less guarded in my man-
ner towards you ; but I never meant to mis-
lead you, — never. I felt towards you as a
sister might feei towards a brother, — nothing
more. But you do not tell me about Miss
Crey. Are you, then, so tickle?"

" Magdalen," Frank said, " I may as well
be truthful with you ; that was all a ruse, —
done for the sake of piquing you and rousing
your jealousy. I did care for Alice when she
was a young girl and I in college at New Ha-
ven ; and when I met her again abroad, and
found her the same sweet, lovely creature, I
don't know what I might have done but for her
father, who seemed to dislike me, and always
imposed some obstacle to my sejing her
alone, until at last he took her away and I
saw her no more until I met her in New
York, and had learned to i^ve you far more
than I ever loved Alice Grey,"

" And so to win me you stooped to pity
with the affections of another A very man-
ly thing to do," Magdalen rejoined, in a
tone of bitter scorn, which made poor Frank's
blood tingle as he tried to stammer out his
excuses.

" It was not a manly act, I know ; but,
Magdalen, so far as Alice was concerned, it
did no harm. I know she does not care for
me now, if she ever did. Our intercourse
was merely friendly, — nothing more ; and I
cannot Hatter myself that she would feel one
lieart-throb were slie to liear to-daj' of my
marriage with another. Forgive me, Mag-
dalen, if in my love for yon I resorted to
duplicity, and tell me that you can love me
in tin>e, — that you will try to do so. W^ill
you, Magdalen ? "

" No, Frank. lean never be your wife ;
never. Don't mention it again ; don't think
of it again, for it cannot be."

This was Magdalen's reply, which Frank
felt was final. She was leaving the room,
and he let her go without another word. He
had lout her, and throwing himself upon the
couch, he pressed his hand^ together upon

MILLBANK ; OR,

his achiQg head and ^roaued aloud with pain
and bitter disappointment.

CHAPTER XVITI.

THE LOOSE BOARD IK THE GARRET.

Heater Floyd wab sick. Exposure to a
heavy rain had brought on an attack of fever,
which confined her to her bed, where she
lay helpless and cross, and sometimes deli-
rious. She would have no one with her but
Magdalen. Every other person made her
nervous, she said. Magdalen's hands were
soft ; Magdalen's step was light ; Magdalen
knew what to do ; and so Magdalen stayed
by her constantly, glad of an excuse to keep
away from Frank, with whom she had held
but little intercourse since that night in the
library, which she remembered with so much
regret. Hester's illness she looked upon as
a Godsend, and stayed all day by the fret-
ful old woman's bedside, only leaving the
room at meal times, or to make a feint of
watching Mrs. Walter Scott, for whom Hes-
ter evinced a strong dislike or dread.

" Snoopin', pryin' things," she said to
Magdalen. " She'll be up to all sort of capers
now that I'm laid up and can't head
her off. I've found her there more than
once; I knew what she was after, and took
it away, and then like a fool lugged it back
again, and it's there now, and you must get
it, and put it — put it — oh, for the dear
Lord's sake what nonsense be I taikin' ?
What was I sayin', Magdalen ?"

Hester came to herself with a start, and
stared wildly at Magdalen, who was bending
over her, wondering what she meant, and
what it was which she must bring from the
garret and hide. Whatever it was, it trou-
bled Hester Floyd greatly, and when she
was delirious, as was often the case, she was
sure to talk of it, and beg of Magdalen to
get it, and nut it beyond the reach of Mrs.
Walter Scott.

" How am I to get it when I don't know
what it is nor where it is," Magdalen said
to her one night when she sat watching by
her, and Hester had insisted that she should
go to the garret, and " head oft" that woman.
She's there, and by and by she'll find that
loose board in the floor under the rafters
where I bumped my head so hard. Go, Mag-
dalen, for Heaven's sake, if you care for
Roger."

Magdalen's face was very white now, and
her eyes like burning coals as she question-
ed Hester. At the mention of Roger a sud-
den suspicion had flashed upon her, making
her grow faint and cold as she grasped the
high post of the bedstead and asked, " How
she could get it when she did not know what
j't was, nor where it was." •

The sound of her voice roused the old wo-
man a little, but she soon relapsed into her
dreamy, talkative mood, and insisted that
Mrs. Walter Scott was in the garret and
Magdalen must " head her off."

"I'll go," Magdalen said at last, taking
the candle which Hester always used for
going about the house. " Hush !" she con-
tinued, as Hester began to grow very rest-
less ; " I'm going to. the garret. Be quiet
till I come back."

"I will, yes," was Hester's reply, her
eyes wide open now, and staring wildly at
Magdalen, whose dress she tried to clutch
with her hand as she whispered, "The loose
board, way down under the eaves. You
must get ou your knees. Bring it to me,
and never tell. "

The house was very quiet, for the family
had long since retired, and the pale spring
moonlight came struggling through the win-
dows, and lighting up the halls through
which Magdalen went on iicr strange errand
to the garret. The stairs which led to it
were away from the main portion of the
building, and she felt a thrill of somsthing
like fear as she passed into the dark, narrow
hall, and paused a moment by the door of
the stairway. What should she find ? Wau
Mrs. Walter Scott there, as Hester had
a erred; and if so, what ^vas she doing, and
what excuse could Magdalen make for bf;>(j
there herself?

y" I'll wait, and let matters take their
course," she thought; and then summoning
all her courage, she opened the door, and be-
gan the ascent of the steep narrow way,
every stair of which creaked' with her tread,
forMagdaler^ did not try to be cautious. "If
any one is there, they shall know I am com-
ing," she thought; and she held her candle
high above her head, so that its light might
shine to the farthest crevice of the garret
and give warning of her approach.

But there was no one there, and only the
accumulated rubbish of the house met her
view, as she came fully into the garret and
cast her ?yes from corner to corner and
beam to beam. Thiough the dingy w:adow
at the north the moon was looking in, and
lighting up that end of the garret with a
weird, ghostly kind of light, which made
Magdalen shiver more than utter darkness
would have done. She knew sht was alone;
there was no sign of lite around har, except
the huge rat, which, frightened at this un-
looked-for visitation, sprang from Magdalen
knew not where, and running past her dis-
appeared in a hole low down under the
eaves, reminding Magdalen of what Hester
had said of " the loose plank under the raft-
ers where you have to stoop. "

At sight of the rat Magdalen had uttered

'h\v

ROGE IRVING'S WARD.

led the old wo-
psed into her
i insisted that
the garret and
ff."

at last, taking
ilways used for
ash !" she con-
grow very rest-
et. Be quiet

sr's reply, her
•kring wildly at
tried to clutch
ed, "The loose
3 eaves. You
ring it to me,

for the family
the pale spring
irough the win-
} halls through

strange errand
which led to it
portion of the
I of somsthing
he dark, narrow
by the door of
d she find ? Waa

as Hester had
} she doing, and
1 make for bf >g

tters take their
,hen summoning
;he door, and be-
jp narrow way,

with her tread,
be cautious. "If

know I am oom-

held her candle
t its light might
;e of the garret

roach.

re, and only the

e house met her

the garret and

to corner and

le dingy window
looking in, and

garret with a
;ht, V, hich made
J utter darkness
ew shfc was alone;
ound har, except
ened at this un-
from Magdalen
ng past her dis-
down under the
of what Hester
ak under the raft-

alen bad uttered

a cry, which she quickly suppressed, and
then stood watching the fritrhteaed animal,
until it disappeared from sight.

"There can be no harm in seeing if there
/a a loose board there," Magdalen thought;',
and setting her candle upon a little table ]
she groped her way after the rat, bumping
her head once as old Hester had bumped ;
hers; and then crouching down upon her i
knees, she examine! the t'oar in that part j
of the garrcc, growing faint and cold and
frightened when she found that far back un-
der the ;oof there u-an a board, shorter than |
the others, which looked as if it mij/ht with I
a littlj trouble be lifted from its place. '

It fiited perfectly, and, but for what old i
Hester had said, might never have been dis-
covered to be loose and capable of 1)c.ing
moved from its position. Magdalen was not !
quite sure, even now, that she could raise it, !
and if she could, did she wish to, and for
-what reason ? Was there anything hidden ,
under it, and if so, was it — ?" \

Magdalen did not dare repeat the last |
word even to herself, and, as she thought it, '
there came rushing over her a feeling as if
she were already guilty of making Roger
Irving a beggar.

" No, no, I can't do that. If there is any-
thing under there — which I do not believe —
it may remain there for all of me," she said;
and her face was very pale as she drew back
from beneath tne roof, and took the candle
in her band.

ll^e moon had passed under a cloud, leav-
ing the garret in darkness, and Magdalen
heard he rising wind sweeping past the win-
dows ai she went down the stairs and out
again into the hall, where she breathed more
freely, and felt less a? if there were a night-
mare's spell upon her. Mrs. Walter Scott's
door stood ajar just as it had done when
Magdalen passed it on her way to the gar-
ret, and, impelled by a feeling she could not
resist, she looked cautiously in. The lady
was sleeping soundly, with her hair in the
hideous curl papers, and
resting peacefully outside
She had not been near
knew nothing of the loose
roof, and with 'k feeling that injustice had
been done m the sleeper, Magdalen passed
on toward Hestjr'e room, her heart beating
rapidly and *lie blood rushing in torrents to
her face .ad neck as she heard Hester's
sharp, querulous tones mingled with another
voice which seemed trying to quiet her. It
was a man'': voice — ^Roger's voice— and Roger
himself was bending over the restless wo
man and telling her that Magdalen would
soon be back, and that nobody was going to
harm her.

" H^r9 ebe i« now," he continued, as Mag-

dalen glided into the room, lookmg like some
ghost, for the blood which had crimsoned
her face a moment before had rececleii from
it, leaving it white as marble, and making
her dark eyes seem larger and brighter and
blacker than their wont. "Why Mag(la,"
Roger exclaimed, coming quickly to her side,
" what is the matter? Have you, too, been
hearinf* burglars ?"

" Burglars !" Magdalen repeated, trying
to smile as she put her candle upon the
table and hastened to Hester, who was sit-
ting up in bed, and who demanded of her,
" Did you find it ? Was she there ?"

" No, no. There was nobody there,'
Magdalen said, soothingly; and then as Hes-
ter became quiet, and seemed falling away
to sleep as suddenly as she sometimes awoke,
Magdalen turned to Roger, who was looking
curiously at her, and as she fancied with a
troubled expression on his face. "You

W^hat did you mean ?"

replied, laughingly.

restless all n'ght — too

Sup.

I re-

I ne-

her white hands
the counterpane,
the garret. She
plank under the

sjjoke of burglars,
she asked.

"Nothing," he
" Only I have been
strong coffee for dinner, I dare say.
pose you see to it yourself to-morrow,
member a cuj) you made me once, and
ver tasted better."

"Yes; but what of the burglars, and why
are you up?" Magdalen continued.

She knew there was some reason for
Roger's being there at that hourof the night,
and she wished to get at it.

" I could not sleep," he replied, " and I
thought I heard some one about the
house. The post-office was entered last
week, and as it would not be a very im-
probable thing for the robbers to come here,
i dressed, and fearing that you might he
alarmed at anj' unusual sound about the
house, I came directly here, and learned
from Hester that you were rummajintf —
you somebody. I could hardly under-
stand what she did mean, she was so ex-
cited."

" I rummaging !" Magdalen stammered.
"Hester has queer fancies. She took it in-
to her head that Mrs. Irving was rummag-
ing, as she calls it, and insisted that I should
go and see ; so I went, to quiet her. "

"And get a cobweb in your hair, " Roger
added, playfully brushing from her hair the
; cobweb which she had gotten under the roof,
and which he held up before her,

" Oh, Mr. Irving !" Magdalen exclaimed,
'. in real distress, for she did not like the ex-
; pression of the eyes fastened upon her,
I " I don't know what Hester may have said
I to you, but she has such queer ideas, and
' she would make me go where she said Mrs.
Irving was, and I went; but I meant :io
harm, believe me, won't you ?"

(IV

^■1

MILLBANK ; OR,

■\

Her cheeks were scarlet, and her eyes were
filling with tears as they looked up to Roger,
who lauf^hed merrily, and said :

" Of course I believe you ; for what possi-
ble harm could there be in your >;oing to the
garret after Mrs. Irving, or what could
Hester think she was there for ?"

He knew then where she had been. Hes-
ter bad lei that out, but hatl she told him
anythinj^ further ? Magdalen did not know.
She was resolved, however, that she woulil
tell him nothing herself, so she merely re-
plied :

" Hester is often out of her head, and
when she is she seems to think that Mrs.
Irving meditates some harm to you."

" I discovered that from what she said
while you were gone," Roger rejoined ; and
then looking at the clock, he saw that it was
nearly one, and asked Magdalen if she
would not like him to watch while she
slept.

If he knew of the loose plank, or had a
thought of the will, he gave no sign of his
knowledge ; he only seemed anxious ubout
Magdalen, and afraid that she would over-
exert herself, and when she refused to sleep,
he insisted upon sitting with her and sharing
her vigils.

" It must be tedious to watch alone," he
said, and then he brought the large chair he
was accustomed to read in, and made Mag-
dalen sit in it, and found a pillow for her
head, and bade her keep quiet and try to
rest.

7t was pleasant to be cared for, especially
as she was tired and worn, and Magdalen
sat very still, with her head upon the pillow
and her face in the shadow until her eye.xds
began to droop and her hands to slide down
into her lap, and when Roger asked if it wai
time for the medicine, he received no answer,
for Magdalen was asleep.

" Poor child," he said, as he stood looking
at her. She has grown thin and pale with
nursing Hester. I must get some one to take
her place, and persuade Hester to be reason-
able for once. Magda must not be allowed
to get sick if I can help it. How very beau-
tiful she is, with the long eyelashes on her
cheek and her hair rippling away from her
forehead ! I wonder are all young girls as
beautiful in their sleep as Magda."

Roger was strangely moved as he stood
looking at the tired sleeping girl. Little by
little, day by day, week by week, she had
been growing into his heart, until now she
filled every niche and corner of it, and tilled
it 80 completely, that to have torn her from
it would have left it bleeding and desolate.
She was not his daughter now, nor his ward,
nor his sister. She was Magda,hw princess,
hia queen, whose bright eyes and clear, ring-

ing voice thrilled him with a new sense of
h;vppiness, an-l made him long to clasp her in
his arms and claim her for his own in tlie only
way she could ever satisfy him now. And
he did not greatly fear what her answer might
be, for he had noted the bright Hush whicli
always came to her cheek, aud the kindling
light in her starry eyes when he appeared
suddenly before her. He did not believe he
was indifferent to her, and as he sat by her
until the gray dawn broke, he resolved that
ere long he would end his suspense, and know
from hei own lips if she could love him
enough to be his wife. Gradually, as her
slumber grew more profound, the pillow slip-
ped, her head dropped into a position which
looked so uncomfortal)le,that Roger ventured
to lift it up and place it more easily against
the back ot the chair. An hour later and
Magdalen woke wjtli a start, exclaiming
when she saw the daylight through the shut-
ters and Hester's medicine untouched upon
the table, *' Why didn't you wake me ?
Hester has not taken her medicine, and the
doctor will blame me."

" Hester is just as well without it," Roger
answered. "She has slept quietly every
moment, and sleep will do her more good
than drugs. My word for it she will be
better when she wakes ; but, Magda, I shall
get her a nurse to-day, and relieve you. 1
cannot let you grow pale and thin. You are
looking like a ghost now. Come with me
into the open air, which you need after this
close room."

He wrapped a shawl around her, and tak-
ing her hood from the table in the hall tied it
upon her head and then led her out upon the
wide piazza, where the fresh breeze from the
river was blowing, and where he walked up
and down, with her hand on his arm, until
the colour came back to her cheeks, and her
eyes had in them their old, restless bright-
ness, as she stood by him and looked off up-
on the hills just growing red in *,he light of
the rising sun.

It was too early yet for many flowers, but
the April winds had melted the snow from
off the Millbank grounds, and here and there
patches of green grass were beginning to
show, and the golden daffodil was just open-
ing its leaves upon the borders of the garden
walk. Millbank was nothing to '''hat it
would be a few weeks later, but it was
handsome even now, and both Roger and
Magdalen commented upon its beauty, while
the former spjke of some improvements he
had in contemplation, and should commence
as soon as the ground was settled. A foun-
tain here, and a terrace there for autumn
dowers, and another winding walk leading
to the grove toward the mill he meant to
have, he said, and a pretty little summsr-

ROGER IVING'S WARD.

1 a new sense of
ig to clasp her iu
s own in the only

him now. And
lier answer might
light Hush which
and the kindling
iien he appeared
lid not believe he
18 he sat by her

he resolved that
speuse, and know

could love him
rradually, as her
d, the pillow slip-
[) a position which
it Roger ventured
ore easily against

I hour later and
3 tart, exclaiming
through the shut-
! untouched upon

you wake me ?
medicine, and the

vithout it," Roger
spt quietly every
lo her more good
for it she will be
ut, Magda, I shall
id relieve you. 1
nd thin. You are
Come with me
'ou need after this

and her, and tak-
e in the hall tied it

II her out upon the
jh breeze from the
lere he walked up

on his arm, until
er cheeks, and her
d, restless bright-

and looked off up-
red in Mie light of

many flowers, but
3d the snow from
and here and there
were beginning to
bdil was just opeo-
'ders of the garden
othing to "'hat it
later, but it was
both Roger and
in its beauty, while
1 improvements he
i should commence

settled. A foun-
there for autumn

ding walk leading

mill he meant to
tty little summer-

house down by the brook, like one he had
seen in England.

And as he talked of the summer-house by
the brook, with its rustic seats and atands,
the sun passed into a bank of clouds, the
wind bi'jjan to freshen and blow up from the
river in raw, chilling gusts, which made
Magdalen shiver, and lirouglit to her mind
last night's .adventure in the garret where
the loose plank was. And with thought" of
that plank there crept ovei her a deeper
chill, — a feeling of depression, as if the
brightness of Millbank was passing away
for ever, and that the change was somehow
being wrought by herself.

CHAPTKR XIX.

TUE BE(;iNNIN<J OF TROUBLK.

, Hester was better. Her long sleep had

* done her good, and when she awoke it was
-evident that her fever was broken and

the crisis of her disease passed. She ws

perfectly raticmal, and evidently retained no

, recollection of what slie had said of the gar-

• ret and Mrs. Walter Scott. Indeed, she
was very civil to that lady, who, on her way
to breakfast, came in to see her, looking very
bright and fresh in her black wrappe.', trim-
med with scarlet, and her pretty little
breakfast cap set on the back of her head.
Good fare, which she did not have to pay for,

■ —pure country air, and freedom from all
' care, had had a rejuvenating effect on Mrs.
Walter Scott, and for a woman of forty-
seven or thereabouts, she was remarkably
handsome and well preserved. This morn-
ing she complained of feeling a little languid.
She could not have slept as well as usual,
she said, and she dreamed that some one
came into her room, or tried to come in, and
'>when she woke she was sure she heard foot-
■%tep8 at the extremity of the hall.
7f.' «. It .^vag Roger, most likely," Hester re-
l^oined. ' Like the good boy he is, he got
^%p about twelve, or thereabouts, and stayed
*np the rest of the night with me and Mam-
;dalen." ^

'. "Oh-h,"Mrs. Irving replied, and her eyes
had in them a puzzled look as she left Hes-
ter's room ami repaired to the breakfast-
table.

" Hester tells me that you spent the night

■with her, or with Magdalen,— which was it?

she said to Roger playfully, &a she leisurely

.sipped her cup of coffee.

^ There was no reason why Magdalen should

have coloured scarlet as she did, or vhy

^Roger should stammer and seem so confused

^8 he replied, •' Yos, Hester was very rest-

f|les8, and xMagdalen very tired, and so I stav-

"•ed with them." ^

M " ^^^ proved a very eflScieut watcher, it

Seems ; for Hester is better and Magdalen as
blooming as a rose," was Mrs. Irving's next
remark, as she shot a quick, curious glance
ut Magdalen, whose burning cheeks confirm-
ed her in the suspicion which until that
morning had never entered her mind.

Magilalen cared for Roger,and Roger cared
for Magdalen, and at last she had the key to
Magdalen's refusal of her son.

Mr.s. Irving had heard from Frank of his
ill-success, and while expressing some sur-
prise, had told him not to despair, and had
promised to do what she could for the fur-
tliurance of liis cau.se. it was no part of her
plan to ppeak to Magdalen then upon the
subject, but siie was more than usually kind
and att'ectionate in her manner towanls the
girl, hoping that by this means the motlier
might succeed where the son had failed.
Now, however, an unlooked-for obstacle had
arisen, and for once Mrs. Waltf Scott was
uncertain what to do. She had never dream-
ed that lioijer might fancy Magdalen, he was
so much older and seemed to care so little
for women ; but she was sure now that he
did, ami the hundred thousand dollars she
ha(i looked upon as eventually sure seemed
to be fading from her grasp. There were
wrinkles in her forehead when she left the
breakfast table, and her face wore a kind of ab-
stracted look, as if she werd intently study-
ing some new device or plan. £t came to
her at last, and when next she was alone
with Frank, she said, "I have been thinking
that it might be well for you to get lio'jer's
consent for you to address Magdalen."

"Roger's consent?" Frank repeated, in
some surprise,
consent was of
Roger's."

" Yes, I know," and the lady smiled
meaningly. " You said to me once that you
loved Magdalen well enough to take her ou
any terms, and wait for the affection she
withholds from you now."

" Yes, I said so ; but what of it ?" Frank
asked ; and his mother replied, " I think I
know Magdalen better than you do. She
has implicit conlidonce in Roger's judgment,
and an intense desire to please him. Let her
once believe he wishes her to marry you, and
the thing is done. At least, it is worth the
trial, antl 1 would speak to Roger without
delay and get his consent. Ur stay," she
added, as she reflected that Frank would
piobably make a bungle and let out that
Magdalen had refused him once, " I will do
it for you. A woman knows so much better
what to say than a man."

Frank had but little faith in his mother's
8cheme,andhe was about to tell her so, when
Magdalen herself came in. She had just re-
turned from accompanying Roger as far aa

" I should say Magdalen's
more consequence than

faiii

1JH*

IMiiiMMMIMfii

MILl.BANK ; OR,

: I

the end of the avenue on his way to the of-
fice. He told her that a walk in the bracing
air would do her good, and had taken her
with him to the gate which was the entrance
to the Millbank grounds. There th.^y had
lingered a little, and Roger had seemed
more lover-like than ever before,and Magda-
len's eyes had shone on him like stars and
kept him at her side long after he knew he
ought to be at his office, where some of his
men were waiting for him. At last, warned
by the striking of the village clock of the
lateness of the hour, he said a final good-bye,
and Magdalen returned to the house, flushed
with excitement and radiant with happiness,
which showed itself in her eyes and face, and
in her unusual gra-jiousness towards Frank.
Now that she began herself to know what it
was to love, and how terrible it would be to
lose the object of her love, she pitied Frank
so much, and never si .ce that night in the
library had she seemed to him so much like
the Magdalen of old as she did, when, with
her large straw hat upon her arm, she stood
talking with him a few moments, mingling
much of her old coquetrj' of manner with
what she said, and leaving him at last
perfectly willing that his mother should do
anything which would further his cause with
Magdalen. •

That night, when dinner was over and
Magdalen was with Hester, who was re-
covering rapidly, Mrs. Walter Scott took her
balls of worsted and her crocheting, and
knocking softly at the door of the library,
where she knew Roger was, asked if she
might come in. He thought it was Mag-
dalen's knock, and looked a little disappoint-
ed when he found who his visitor was. But
he bade her come in, and bringing a chair
for her near to the light, asked what he
could do for her.

" I want to talk with you about Frank
and Magdalen," Mrs. Irving said. " You
must, of course, have seen the growing aflFec-
tion between the young people ?"

Mrs. Walter Scott pretended to be very
busy counting her stitches but she managed
to steal apide glanced at her companion, who
fairly gasped at what he had heard, and
whose fingers fluttered nervously among the
papers on the table, on one oi vLich he kept
writing, in an absent kind of way and in
every variety of hand, the name of Magda-
len. He had not noticed the growing affec-
tion between the young people ; that is, he
had seen nothing on Magdalen's part to war-
rant such a conclusion. Once, just after his
return from Europe, he had thought his
nephew's attentions very marked, and a
thought had crossed his mind ap to what
might possibly be the result. But all this
was past, as he believed, and his sister's in-

telligence came upon him like a thunderbolt,
stunning him for an instant, and making
him powerless to speak. Those were fierce
heart-pangs which Roger was enduring, and
they showed themselves upon bis face,
which was very pale, and the corners of his
mouth twitched painfull}', but his voice was
steady and natural as he said at last, —

"And Magdalen — does she — have you rea-
son to believe she would return a favourable
answer to Frank's suit ?"

Mrs. Irving was sure now that what she
had suspected was true, and that nothing
but a belief in Magdalen's preference for
another would avail with him, so she replied
unhesitatingly, —

"Certainly I do. I have suspected for
years that she was strongly attached to
Frank, and her manner towards him fully
warrants me in that belief. She is the soul
of honour, and never professes what she does
not fcol.

" Ye-es," Roger said, with something be-
tween a sigh and a long-drawn breath, as-
senting thus to what his sister said, and
trying to reconcile with it Magdalen's de-
meanor towards himself of late.

If she was attached to Frank, and had
been for years, why that sadden kindlinsr of
her eyes, and the lightning up of her whole
face whenever he was with her, and why
that sweet graciouaness of manner towards
him which she had of late evinced ? Was
Magdalen a coquette, or was that the way
of girls ? Roger did not know — he had never
made them a study, never been interested
in any girl or? woman except Magda-
len ; and now, when he must lose her, he be-
gan to feel that he had loved her always
from the moment when he took her as his
child and Srst held her baby hands in hia,
and laid her soft cheek against his own,
She ivaa his — he had a better right to her
than Frank, and he wrote her name all over
the sheet of paper on the table, and thought
of all the castles he had built within the Isist
few weeks — castles of the time when Magda-
len would be really his and he could lavish
upon her the love and tender caresses he would
be coy of giving any one who was i.ot his wife.
Roger was naturally very reserved — and in
his intercourse with Magdalen he had only
shown her glimpses of the deep, warm love
he felt for her. He held peculiar notions
about such things, and he was sorry now
that he did — sorry that he had not improved
his opportunities and won her for his own be'
fore Frank appealed to him, as he had done
through his mother, and thus sealed his lips
for ever. He was tiiinking of all this, and
was 80 absorbed in it that he forgot his
sister was there watching him narrowly, but
veiling her watchfulness with her apparent

|lli^

ROGER IRVING'S WARD.

r)9

e a thunderbolt,
it, and making
'hose were fierce
M enduring, and ;

upon bia face, ,

le corners of his ;
but his voice was
id at last, —
,e — have you rea-
turn a favourable

w that what she
ind that nothing
I's preference for
im, so she replied ^

ive suspected for
ngly attached to
owards him fully
[, She is the soul
sses what she does

'ith something be-
•drawn breath, as-
is sister said, and
it Magdalen's de-
)f late.

;o Frank, and hart
sudden kindlinc of
iug up of her whole
ivith her, and why
of manner towards
late evinced ? Was
■ was that the way
mow — he had never
ver been interested
in except Magda-
nust lose her, he be-
I loved her always
he took her as his
baby hands in hia,
against his own,
better right to her
te her name all over
» table, and thought
built within the last
e time when Magda-
and he could lavish
der caresses he would
«rho was x»ot his wife,
iry reserved — and in
agdalen he had only
the deep, warm love
eld peculiar notions
i he was sorry now
he had not improved
on her for his own be'
him, as he had done
thus sealed his lip;
king of all this, ana
that he forgot hi!
ng him narrowly, but
18 with herappaven'

; interest in her worsted work, which became
strangely tangled and mixed, and re-
! quired her whole attention to unravel and set
i right, lint she could not sit still all the
I ■evening and let Roger fill that sheet of fools-
f cap with " Mag<lalcn ; " she must recall him
to the point at issue, and so she said at
;last, —

"Frank will do nothing without your
sanction, and what he ^vants is your permis-
uion, as .VJagdalen'd ;^uardian, for him to ad-
dress her. Can he have it ?'

Then Roger looped up a moment, and t" ^
pencil \»hich had been so busy began to trace
• long black line thn ngh every nam<',as if he
thus would blot out the sweetest dream of
bis life.

ii " Have my permission to address Magda-
en ? Yes — certainly, if he wants it. I had
fhouerht — yes, — I had hoped — I had suppos-
ed-"

Here Roger came to a full stop, and then,
i(Bthe only thing he oould do, he added, —
-'' " I thought I had heard something about
^Miss Grey, of New York, and that probably
Ita^ misled me. Was there nothing in that
rejiort ?"

" Isothing,"Mr8. Irving replied. "Frank
Icnew her in New Haven and meet her
Jltjroad, and so it was only natural he sLouM
'^11 upon her in New Y'ork. There is no-
'Ihing in that rumour ; absolutely nothing.
Frank's mind was too ful' of Magdalen for
him to care for a hundred Miss Greys.
Poor foolish boy, it brings my own youth
t>ack to me to see him so infatuated. I
must go to him now, for I know how anx-
iously he is waiting for me. Thank you for
'8»e favourable answer 1 can give him."
She hurried from the room and out into

tie hall, never stopping to heed the voice
hich called after her, —
; "Helen— oh, Helen !"
' Roger did not know what he wanted to
ilky to her. His call was a kind of protest
4Utainst her consideringjthe matter suttled as
ilWiolly as she seemed to think it was. He
«iuld not give Magdalen up so easily, — he
Ifliust make one effort for himself, — and so he
l|*d tried to call his sister back, but she did
tt^t hear him, and went on her way, leaving
him alone with his great sorrow .

Frank was in his own room, lazily reclin-
'ing in his easy chair and about finishing the

tcond cigar in which he had indulged since
nner. He took h:s third when his mother
le in, for he saw that she had something
I tell him. and he could listen so much bet-
6r when he was smoking. With a faint
atest against the atmosphere of the room,
lich was thick with the fumes of tobacGo,
rs. Walter Scott began her story, telling
im that he had Roger's consent to speak to

Matjdalen as soon as he liked, but not tellins
him of her suspicions that Roger, too, would
in time have spoken for himself, if his ne-
phew had not first taken the field. It was
strange that such a possibility had never
occurred to Frank. He, too, had a fancy
that Roger was too old for Magdalen, — that
he was really more her father than her lover,
and he never dreamed of him as a rival.

" I wish you could arrange it with Magda-
len as easily as you have with Roger, he
said; and his mother replied, "She will
think better of it another time. Girls fre-
quently say ' no ' at first."

" But not the way Magdalen "aid it,"
PVank rejoined. " She was in earnest. She
meant it, I am sure."

"Try her with Roger's consent. Tell her
he wishes it ; not that he is wHIuhj, but that
he iriflit'M it. \''ou will find that argument
all-powerful," Mrs. Irving said.

Being a woman herself slie knew how to
work upon another Vvomau's feelings, and she
talked to and encouraged her son until he
caught something of her hopefulness, and
saw himself the fortunate possessor o' all the
glorious beauty and sprightiineas embodied
in Magdalen, wlio little dreamed of what lay
before her, and who next morning, at the
breakfa.st table, wondered at Frank's exhila-
ration of spirits and Roger's evident depres-
sion. He was very pale, and bore the look
of one who had not slept : but he tried to be
cheerful, and smiled a faint, sickly kind of
smile at Magdalen's lively badinage with
Frank, whom she teased and coquetted with
something after her olden fashion, not be-
cause she enjoyed'it, but because she saw
there was a cloud somewhere, and
would fain dispel it. She never
joked with Roger as she did with Frank ;
but this morning when she met him in the
hall, where he was drawing on his gloves
preparatory to going out, she asked him
what was the matter, and if he had one of
his bad headaches coming on.

" His throat was a little sore," he
said ; " he did not sleep much last night,
but the walk to the village would do him
good."

Magdalen had taken a long scarf from the
hall stand, and holding it toward him, said,
" It's cold this morning, and my teeth fairly
chattered when I went out on the piazza
for my run with old Rover. Please wear
this round your throaty Mr. Irving, hei me
put it on for you."

There was a soft light in her eyes and a look
of tender interest in her face, and Roger bent
his head before her and let her wind the
warm scarf round his neck and throw the
fringed end over his shoulder. Roger was
tall, and Magdalen stood on tiptoe, with her

MILLBANK : OK.

arniH almost meeting round liis neck aa she
adjusted the suarf behind, and her t'acu came
80 near to his that he cauhl feel her breath
stir his ha'v just as her presence stirred the
inmost depths of his heart, tempting him to
take her in his arms and be;; of her not to
heed Frank's suit, but listen tirst to him,
who hail tlie btater right to her. But Roger
was a pruiloDt man ; the hall was not the
place for love-making ; so he restrained
himself, and only took one of Magdalen's
hands in his and held it while he thanked
her for her thou^htfulness.

" You are better than a physician,
Magda. I don't know what I should do
without you. I hope you will never leave
Millbank."

!So much he did say, and his eyes had an
earne-it, ]j'eading look in them, wliich hauut-
.^dMag.iidfm all the morning, and made her
happy as she flitted about the house, or
dashed off one brilliant piece after another
upon ht-r piano, which seem 'il almost to talk
beneath her spirited touch

Meanwhile, Roger and Frank wore alone
in the oftice. The brisk wind which was
blowing in che morning had brought on an
April shower ')f sleet and rain, and there
was not much prospect of visitors or clients.
Roger sat bv his desk, pretending to read,
while Frank at his table was doing just what
Roger had done the previous night, viz.,
writing Magdalen's name on little slips of
paper, and adding to it once the name of
Irving, just to see how it would look ; a7id
Roger, who got up for a book which was over
Frank's head, saw it, and smiled sadly as he
remembered that he, too, had written " Mag-
dalen Irving," just as Frank v/as doing.
There was a little mirror over the table,
where Frank had placed it for his own use ;
for he was vain of his personal appearance,
and his hr.ir and collar and necktie needed
frequent tixiiig. Into th 's minor Roger
glanced and then looked down upon his
nephew, who at that mom nt aeemed a boy
compared with him. Frj,r.k's light hair at ■'.
skin, and whitish, silky mustache, gave him
a very youthful appearance and made him
look younger than he was, while Roger
had grown old within the night. There were
no gray hairs, it is true, among Lis luxuriant
brown locks ; but he was haggard and pale,
and there were dark circles benf>ath his
eyes, and hi felt tired and voru aad old —
too old Ik) mate with Magdalen's bright
beauty. Frank v/as bet~-er si Ited to her in
point of agci, and Frank should have her if
she preferred him. Roger reached this con-
clusion hastily, and then by way of strength-
ening it, pointed playfully to the name on
the paper, and asked, " Have you spoken to
her yet '"

Frank was glad Roger had broached the
subject, and he began at once to tell what
he meant to do and be, if Magdalen would
but listen favourably to him. He would
study so hard, and overcome his
laziness and his expensive habits, and be a
man, such as he knew he had not been, out
such as he felt he was capalde of being with
Magdalen as his leading star. He had iini
spoken to her yet-, he said, but he should d(i
so that night, and he was glad to have
Roger's approval, as that would surely bias
Magdalen's decision. P'rank grew very en.
thusiastic, and drove his penknife
repeatedly into the table, and ran his ,
fingers through his hair, ana pulled up his '
collar and looked in the glass ; but never
glanced at Roger, to whom every word he
uttered was like a stab, and whose face was
wet with perspiration as he listened and felt
that his heart was breaking.

" I'd better go away for a day or two, un-
til tiie matter is settled, for if I stay I migh:
say that to Magdalen which would hardly
be fair to say, after Frank's confiding in me
as he has," Ilv?jer thought ; and, after the
mail came in, and he had some pretext for
doing so, he announced his intention of goinj;
to New York by the afternoon train. " 1
shall not goto tiie house," he said," as I have
some writing to do ; so please tell your
mother where I have gone, and that I may
not return until the day after to-morrow."
With all his efforts to seem natural, three
was something hurried and excited in hi:
manner, which Frank observed and >v under
ed at, but he attributed it to some perplexi
ty in business matters, and nevei suspecte:
that it had anything to do with him and hii
prospective affairs.

Roger talked but little that morning, bu:
busied himself at his own desk, until tini*
for the train, when, with some directions t
Jrank as to what to do in case certai:
persons called, he left his office and wentoi
his way to New York.

Aftei Roji r's dep -ture, Frank grew tire:
-^f stayin,^ alone, j He day had continue
wet and uncomfortable,and few had droppe
in at the office, and these f jr only a moineu;
So, after a little, he started for Millbar.k
resolving, if a good opportunity occurred, t
speak ;o Magdalen agaiu on tlie subject up
permost in his mind. Ho did not see hi
mother as he entered the house, but he me
a servant in the hall and asked for Maj
dalen.

"Misa Lennox was in Mrs. Floyd's room,
tiie servant said, and Frank went there t
find her.

•' I sent her up garret to shet a winde
and hain't seen her sense," Hester said t
answer to his question. " She's somewhere

COQt

, !l:!;'

llMi'

if had broached the
t once to tell what

if Magdalen would '^
to him. He wouM ;
id overcome his
ve habits, aud be a
le had not been, but
apal)le of being with
ig star. He had «"'
iid, but he should do
was glad to have
li would surely bias
Frank grew very en-
rove his penknife

table, and ran his ,
,ir, and pulled up his '

the glass ; but never

whom every word he
), and whose face was
as he listened and felt
iking.

/ for a day or two, un-
d, for if I stay I mi^ht

which would hardly
rank's contiding in mt
)ught ; and, after tht
had some pretext for
(1 his intention of going
afternoon train. " I
se," he said," as I have
; so please tell your
! gone, and that 1 may

ay after to-morrow."

to seem natural, three
ried and excited in his
t observed and >v onder
ted it to some perplexi;
rs, and neve, suspecte;

to do with him and hu

ittle that morning, bu-
i own desk, until timt
with some directions t
to do in case certai:
t his office and went oi

-ture, Frauk grew tire;
J lie day had continue
ble.and few had droppe
these i.ir only a momeu;
e started for Millbank
,nnortunity occurred, t
agaiu on the subject up
Hp di'1 not see hi
;d the house, but he me
11 and asked for Maj

.„ in Mrs. Floyd's room,
id Frank went there t

garret to shet a winde
sense," Hester said ^
ion ♦' She's somewhere

KO(JER IRVING'S WARD.

Did you want anything

•y particular," was
left the room

und, "lost likely,
l^articular ?"
¥ " No, nothing ver
P'rauk's reply, as lie left the room and con
|inued his search for Magdalen, first in the
jbarlours, and th?n in the little room at the
#Dd of the uppt r hall, which had been titted
iip for a fernery.

Not finding her there, and remembering
irhat Hester had said about the garret, ho
•tarted at last in that direction, though he had
but little idea that she was there. If she had
oome down, as he supposed, she had left the
door open behind her, and he was about to
abut it, when a sound met his ear, which
made him sti p and listen until it was re-
peated. It came again ere long, — a sound
Mlf way between a moan and a low, gasping
flob, and Frank ran swiftly up the stairs, for
it was Miagdalen's voice, and he knew now
tHiat Magdalen was in the garret.

CHAPTER XX.

'WHAT MAODALEN FOUND IN THE OARRET.

Magdalen had not forgotten " the loose
plank," but since the night of her adventure
in the garret she had never been near that
pftrt of the building, though sorely tempted
to do so every day and hour of her life. It
seemed to her as if some powerful influence
WM urging her on toward the garret, while a
■till more powerful influence to which she gave
no name was constantly holding her back.
She had puzzled over the loose plank, and
dreamed of it, and speculated upon it, aud
wondered if there was anything under it,and
if.Bo, was it — . she never cjuite said XL'ftat,
eien to herself, for it seemed to lier that she
■hould in some way be wronging Roger if
she breathed the name of will. Of one thing,
however, she felt certain ; if tliero was a
pi^er secreted in the garret, old Hester knew
otdt, aud had had a hand in hiding it ; and
<mBe she thought of quizzing Aleck to see if
h^ too knew al)out it. She could not have
done much with him, for had he known of
the will, he would, if questioned with
regard to it, have been so deaf that every-
body in the house would have heard the
coot^ersation. Aleck was not fond of talk-
ing, and in order to avoid it, had a way, as
Hester said, of affecting to be deafer than he
was, and so was usually left in peace. Hr
always heard Roger, and generally Magda-
Itn ; but to the rest of the house he was as
deaf as a post unless it suited him to hear.
I|was useless to question him, and so Mag-
" Tien kept her own counsel for two weeks
irthat memorable night when Ro^./^r had

kred her vigils, and from which time Hes-

?8 recovery had been rapid.

Ihe was able now to sit I'.p all day, but

ha<l not yet been to the kitchen, and when
she asked Magdalen to go and shut the gar-
ret window, which she had left open in the
morning and into whicii she was sure the
rain Avas pouring, Magdalen expressed a
good deal of surprise that she should have
ventured ipto the garret, and asked why she
went there.

"I M-antcd to look over them clothes in
the chest ; I knew they needed airin'," Hes-
ter s.iid, and Magdalen accepted the expla-
i<ation and started for the garret.

It was raining fast, and as she opened the
iloor which led up the stairs, a gust of wind
blew down into her face, and she heard the
heavy rain drops on the roof. The window
was open as Hester had said, and Magdalen
shut it, and then stood a moment looking off
upon the river and the hills over which the
April shower was sweeping in misty sheets.
To the rik^ht lay the little village of Belvi-
dere, where Roger's office was. She could
see the white building nestled .nong the
elms in one corner of the common, and the
sight of it made her heart beat faster than
its wont, and brought before her the scene of
the morning when Roger had hehl her hand
in his.and looked so kindlj' into her eyes. She
could feel the pressu e of his broad, warm
hand even now, and she felt her cheeks grow
hot beneath the huik which seemed to beam
upon her here in the gloomy garret where
there was only rubbish and rats, and bar-
rels, and chests, and loose planks under the
roof. She started, almost guiltily, when she
remembered the latter, and turned her face
resolutely from that part of the room, lest
she should go that way and see for herself
what was hi<l ■ there. Hester had said, "I
went to air c\ thes in the old chest,"

and Magdale.. nad turned to the chest care-
lessly at first, then more closely, and finally
went down on her knees to examine some-
thing which made her grow cold and faint
for a moment.

It was nothing but a large cobweb, but it
covered the entire fastening of the chest,
stretching from the lid down across the key-
hole, and showing plainly that the chest had
not been open for weeks. It could not be
opened without disturbing the cobweb, for
Magdalen tried it, and saw the fieecy thing
torn apart as she lifted the lid. There was a
paper package lying on top of the linen, and
from a rent in one corner Magdalen saw a
bit of the dress she had worn to Millbank.
It was years since she had seen it, and at the
eight of it now she felt a thrill of pain, and
turned her head away. There was too much
of mystery and humiliation connected with
that little dress for her to care to look at it ;
and she shut the lid quickly, and said to
herself, as she turned, away :

MILLBANK ; OK,

' I

" Hester has not opened the cheat to-d»y.
Whiit, then, was she here for?"

Tht;n, swift as lightning, the answer
came :

" She was here to look after whatever is
hidden under that loose plank, and probably
to remove it."

Yes, that was the solution of the mys-
tery. If tlicre had been anything under the
Hour, it had been transferred to some
otiier hiding-plaue, and, woman-like,
Magdalen began to feel a little sorry that
she had lost her chance for knowing what
was there.

"There can be no harm in looking now,
if it is really gone," she said ; and follow-
ing Bome impulse she did not try to rcBist she
went toward that part of the garret, putting
a broken chair out of her way, and bending
down beneath the slanting rafters.

It was raining hard, and f>he went back a
step or two, and glanced at the window
against which the storm was beating.
Siie wa not afraid there, in broad day-
light ; but a strange feeling of awe and
dread began to rreep over her; mingled with
a firmer determination to explore tliat spot
under the floor. She did not believe she
couM Had anything, but she mutt look, — she
must satisfy herself, let the consequence be
what it might. Sue did not think of Hoger,
nor the will, nor Frank, but, strange to say,
a thought of Jtssie crossed her mind — Jessie,
the drowned woman, who seemed so near to
her that she involuntarily looked over her
shoulder to see if a spectre were there. Then
she bent low under the beams, — went nearer
to the loose plank, — had her hands upon it,
and knew that it did not tit as perfectly as
on that night when she first discovered it.
It had been moved. Somebody had been
there recently, and, trembling with excite-
ment, Magiialen grasped the plank, and
drew it up from its position,shrinking a little
from the dark opening which looked so like
a grave. Gradually, as she saw clearer, she
could distinguish the lath and plascering,
with bits of chips and shavings and sawdust,
and signs that tha rats lived th-^/re. Then,
leaning forward, she peered down under the
door, looking to the north, looking to the
east, and then to the south, and lastly to
the west, where, pushed back as far as pos-
sible from sight, was a little box, the cover
of which was tied firmly down with a bit of
white Marseilles braid, such as Magdalen
w.as trimming herdress with a fewdays before
in fluster Floyd's room. She had missed
about Ji?.lf a yprd, which could not at the
time be found, but she had found it now,
and she grew dizzy and faint as she reached
for the box and brought it out to the day-
light.

Whatever the mystery was, she bad it in
her hands, and she sat down upon a chair to
recover her breath, and decide what she
should do.

" I'ut it back where you found it," was
suggested to her ; but she could not do that,
and seemingly without an effort on her part
her Hngers nervously untied the hard knot,
then slowly unwound the braid, which she
vxamined to see if it was soiled, and if theru
Wb 'M)t enough for the pocket of her sack if
she Ue;ided to have one.

She thought there was, and she laid it ou
her lap and then opened the lid !

There were two packages inside, and both
were wrapped in tldck brown paper, whicli i
Magdalen removed carefully, and without
the least agitation now. Her excitement
had either passed or was so great that she diii
not heed it, and she was conscious of no
emotions whatever as she sat there remov-
ing the paper wrappings from what seemed
to bo a letiT, on ohl, yellow, soiled letter,
directed to " Master Roger L. Irving," in a
handwriting she did not know. She did ndt
open the letter, but she read tlio name ami
whispered it to herself, and thought by sonu'
strange accident of that morning by the river
when Roger had spoken of working for hi^r
with his hands, and of her helping him in
case he should lose Millbank. Why she
shouhl lecall that incident she couhl not
tell, any more than she cou'd gutss that phe
held in her hands that which would even-
tually lead to just such an alternative us
Roger had suggested.

1 She put the letter down, and took th*
other package and removed its wrapping*
and turned it to the light, uttering a cry oi
terror and surprise at what was writtec
there. She must read it, — she luould read i;
and know the worst, and she opened thr
worn docunient, wliich was dated back si
many years, and read it through while he:
fingers seemed to grow big and numb, auo
fhe felt her arms prickle to her shoulders
Once she thought of paralysis, as the strangt
sensation went creeping through her wholi
system, and she was conscious of feelini
that she merited some such punishment fi'
the idle curiosity which had resulted s
disastrously.

She read every word that was written ol
the paper, and understood it, too— that i-
understood what the dead oli^ man had dime
but not M'/iv/ he had done it. ^That was soint
thing for which she could find no excuse, u
reason. Doubtless the letter directed t
Roger contained the explanation, if then
was one ; but that was sacred to her, — thai
was Roger's alone. She could not meddl'
with that ; she would give it to him just a
JxQ had found it.

Enet
age
Ut
Iter f
|jpr<

ttute
for

•1>pp]

Sots

done

sent

must I

daknl

■he sf

tpwail

Whi&J

'"if

Int oj

Mel

leesl

!"ig[

iu|
rani

IIOOER IRVINO'S WARD.

(vas, she had it in

fn upon a chair to

(lecide what t\iv

111 found it," was
could not do that,
effort on her part
ied the hard knot,
I braid, which bhe
Boiled, and if there
cket of her sack if

and ahe laid it oti
he lid !

res inside, and both
'rowa paper, which •
fully, and without
r. Her excitement
10 great that she ili'l
as conscious of no
le sat there remov-

from what seemed

allow, soiled letter,

.ger L. Irving," in a

know. She did nm

read tlie name and
ind thoUKht by sonic
morning by the river
of working for her
her heluing him in
illbank. " Why ahe
(lent she could not
) couHl gutss that phe

which would eveii'
ch an alternative as

lown, and took th^
noved its wrapping
ght, uttering a cry o:
t what was writtec
it^_8he ivould reaili!
and she opened tht
h was dated back si
it through while he;
V big and numb, ano
kle to her shoulders
ralysis, as the strangt
ig through herwholt
conscious of feelini
such punishment io'.
lich had resulted s

that was written ol
stood it, too— that i;
ead ol(J man had doiK
DC it. 'That was somt
3uld find no excuse, u
,he letter directed t
explanation, if ther^

sacred to her,— th:>'.

She could not medd'

give it to him just a:

"Poor wronged Roger ! it will kill hini,'i
■he moaned ; "and to think that I should
Jbe the instrument of his ruin."

She was locking to and fro in her (listroas,
' with her hands locke<l together around her
knees, and her head bowed in her lap. What
could she do? What should she do? she
asktd herself, and something answered
again, "Put it where you found it, and
keep your own counsel."

Surely that advice was good, ond Magila-
len started to follow it, wlien suddenly there
came back to her the words, " If I believed
it, I would move heaven and earth tp Knd

it."

Ro^er had spoken thus on that summer
morning, which seemed so long ago. Roger
Was honeul ; Roger was just ; Roger wouhl
bid her take that dreadful paper to him,
though total ruin was the result.

Twice M •gdalen started for the dark open-
ing under the roof, and as often stopped
iuddenlj', until at last, overcome w ith ex-
Oitement and anguish, she crouched down
npon the floor, and moaned piteously, "Oh,
BiOger, Roger, if you must be ruined, I wish
It had fallen to the lot of some other one to
rain you. Was it for this ycu brought me
here? for this you have been so kind to me?
Oh. Roger, I cannot live to see you a beggar.
Why was it done ? What was it for ? "

The words she uttered were not intelli-

f'lble, and only her sobbing moans met
rank's ear and sent him up the steep stair-
Way to where she sat with her face buried in
her lap and the fatal paper clutched firmly
in her hand.

"Magdalen, what is it? What has hap-

Kned to you ? " Frank asked, and then
agdalen first became aware of his presence.
Uttering a low scream, she struggled to
Br feet, and turned toward him a lace the
tpression of which he never forgot, it was
full of pain and anguish, of terror and
iute entreaty. There was no escape now,
for he was there with her, -the heir, the
ipplanter of poor Roger. Heaven would
n suffer her to hide it, as she might have
>ne if left alone a little longer. It had
it Frank to jrevent the wrong, and she
ainst do the right in spite of herself. Mag-
cblen thought all this during the moment
Ule stood confronting FranK, — then reaching
tpwaril him the soiled ytlicAV paper, she
whispered lioarsely :

"Take it, Frank. It is yours, all yours ;
]^t oh ! be merciful to Roger."

Mechanically Frank took the paper from
6r, and the next momett she was on her
lees before him trying to articulate some-
ling about "Roger, poor Roger," but fail-
in the effort. The sight of that paper in
irank's hands, and knowing that with it he

hehl everything which Rouer prized so dear<
ly, took sense and strengtn away, ai:d she
fainted at his feet.
Maoii.ukn mad rouNP thk wii.r, !

CHAPTER XXI.

yUANK AND TUK WILL.

hut
the

with

did

have

ually

face

ness.

Frank knew she had found the will,
he did not at all realize the effect which
finding of it would have upon his future.
He had not reaii it like Magdalen, he ditl
not know that by virtue of what was record-
ed there, he, and not Roger, was tlie heir to
Millbank. He only knew tliat Magilalcn
lay unconscious at his feet, her white fore-
head touching his boot, and one of her hands
clutching at his knee, wheio it had fallen
when she raised it imploringly toward him,
with a ph'iiding word for Roger. 'I'o lift her
in his arms and bear her to the window,
which he opened so that the wind and rain
might fall upon her face and neck, was the
work of an instant ; and then, still support-
ing her upon his sliouUlet, he rubbed and
chafed her palo lingers and pushed her hair
back from her face, and bent over her
loving, anxious words, which she
not hear and would scarcely
heeded if she had. (Iradu-

HS the .aiii beat upon her
she came back to conscious-
and with a cry to free he i self from
Frank's embrace. But he held her tirst,
while he asked what was the matter— what
had she found or seen to atfect her so power-
fully ?

"Don't you know? Haven't you read
it ?" she gasped ; and Frank replied, "No,
Magdalen, 1 have not re.ul it. My first
care was for you — always for you, darling.',
She freed herself from him then, and strug-
gling to her feet stood before him with di-
lating nostrils and Hashing eyes. She knew
that the tone of his voice meant love — love
for her who hatl refused it once — aye, who
would refuse it a thousand times more now
than she had before. He could not have
Millbank and her too. There was no will
on earth which had power to take her from
lioger and give her to Frank, and by some
subtle intuition Magdalen recognized for a
moment all she was to Roger, and felt that
possibly he would prefer poverty with her
to wealth without her , just as a crust shared
with him would be sweeter to fier than the
daintiest luxury shared with Frank, who
had called her his darling and who would
rival Roger in everything. Magdalen could
have stamped her foot with rage that Frank
should presume to think of love thin and
there, when he must know what it was she
had found for him— what it was he held n

T^J»\''-

MILLBANK ; Oil.

-' I

his hand. And hore she wrou);;o(i him : for
lio dill not at all ruali/o Iuh uoiiitiori, and he
looked uuriuusly at hur, womluriat; to aeu her
ku excited.

"Are you angry, Magdalen ?" ho asked.
"What has happened to iitFeut you ho?
Toll mo. 1 don't understand it at all."

Then Magdalen did stamp her foot, and
coming close to him, said, " Don't drive me
mud with your stupidity, Frank Irving.
You know as well as I that I have found
what when a child you once asked me to
search for — you, to whom Jloger was so kind
— you, who wouM deal so troaciierously with
Iiogor in his own house ; and I promisoil I
would do it — I, who was ten times worse
than you. I was a beg^'ar whom Roger took
in, and I've wounded the hand that fed me.
I have found the will ; hut, Frank Irving, if
I had guessed wii.'it it contained I would have
jtlucketl out both my eyes before tlicy shouM
liave looked for it. You deceived me. You
Haid it gave you a part— only a part. You
told mo f.'d8e,aud 1 hate you for it."

She was mad now with excitement, which
increaned aa iihc raved on, and, and she
looked HO white and terrible, with the fire
flashing out in gleams from her dark eyes,
that Frank involuntarily shraidt hack from
liur at first, and kept out of reach of the
hands which made so fierce gestures toward
him as if tliey would do him harm. Tlien
ns he began to recover himself, and from her
words yet .some inkling of the case, he drew
liei gently to him, saying a^ he did ho,
"Magdalen, yon wron;,' me greatly. Heaven
is my witness tlmt 1 always rneaiifc to give
you tlie same impression of tlie will which I
received from tiiy mother, thoui^'h really and
truly I never hiid much idea th;it there was
one. and atn as muidi astonislied to find tfierc
is as you can i)e. I have not read it yet, and
am not responsible for wli.-it there is in it. I
knew notliing of it, liad notliinij to do with
it ; please don't blame me for what I could
not help."

There was rea.sou in what he said, and
Magdalen saw it, and softened toward him
as she replied, " Forgive me, Frank, if in my
excitement I said things which sounded
harshly, and blamed you for what you could
not iielp. But, oh ! Frank, I am .so sorry
for Rf>ger, poor Roger. Say that you won't
wrong him. B« merciful ; be kind to him as
he has been to yon."

Frank's perceptions were not very acute,
but he would have been indeed a fool if in
what Magdalen said he had failed to detect
a deeper interest in Roger than he had
thought existed. He did detect it, and a
fierce pang of jealousy shot through his
heart as he began to see wha*^ the obstacle

was which stood between himself and .Mag-
dalen.

"I do not understand why you should be
HO distressed about liogcr, or beg of iiir to
lie merciful," he said ; but Magdalen inter-
rupted him with a gesture of impatience.

" Read that paper and you will know
what 1 mean. You will see that it makes
Roger a beggar,and gives you all his fortune.
He has nothing nothing comparatively."

Frank understood her now. He knew
before that the lost will was found, and he
supposed that possibly ho shared e(|ually
with Roger, but he never dreamt that to
hiin was given all, and to Roger nothing ;
and us Mug<lulen finished speaking he opened
ttie paper nervously and read it through,
while she sat watching him,her eyes growing
blacker and brighter and more defiant, as
she fancied she saw a half-pleasant expression
flit across his face svhon he read that lie was
the lawful heir of Millbank. He had been
dufraudeil of his rights for years, had mur-
mured against hit' poverty and his depen-
*lence, and thought hard things of the old
man in his grave who liad left him only five
thousand dollars, lint that was over now.
I'overty and dependence were things of the
piist. The old man in his grave had willed
to Frank, his beloved grandchild, all his pro-
perty except a few legacies similar to those
in the older will, and the paltry sum
left to " tlie boy known as Roger Lennox
Irving." That was the way it was worded,
not " My son Roger," but " the boy known
as R^oger Lennox Irving. ' To him was be-
(jucatlied the nwti of live thousand dollars,
and the farm uniongtheNew Hampshire hills
known as the " Morton" place. That was
all Roger 8 inheritance, and it is not strange
that Frank sat for a moment speechless. Ha<i
he shaied equally with Roger he would not
have been surprised ; but why he should
have the whole and Roger nothing, he did
not understand. The injustice of the thing
struck him at first tjuite as forcibly as it did
Magdalen, and more to himself than her he
said, " Tliere must be some mistake. My
grandfather would never have done this
thing in his right mind. Where did you
find it, Magdalen ?"

He did not seem elated, as she feared he
might. She had done him injustice, and
with far more toleration than she had felt for
him at first, Magdalen told him where she
had found it and why she chanced to look
there, and pointed to the signatures of
Hester and Aleck Floyd as witnesses to the
will.

" Hester hid it," she said, " because she
knew it was unjust and it was the fear of its
being found which troubled her so much."

" That is probable," Frank rejoined ; "but

mOi^

nofJER mviNO's ward.

)

i hinJHuU ami MuK"

kvhy you bIiouM l>«'
r, or ben «>f «"' to
t Mftgilftluii inter-
a of iiiipiitieiioo.
iiul you will know
HOti that it maWes
you all his fortune.
^ coinimratively."
•r now. He knew
was found, and lie
ho shared etjually
8r dreamt that to
;o llo^iir nothing ;
speaking ho opened
id read it through,
iin,her eyes growing
d more detiunt, as
f-pleasant expression
he read that In- was
ank. He had been
or years, had mur-
ty and his depen-
il things of the old
id left him only rtve
that was over now.
J were things of thf
his grave had willed
•Hiidchild, all his pro-
xies similar to those
Lud the paltry sum
n as Roger Lennox
way it was worded,
jut '' the boy known
r. ' To him was bo-
}e thoUHand dollars,
New Hampshire hills
plaee. That was
and it is not strange
neiit speechless. Ha>l
loger he would not
nit why he should
aer nothing, he did
i"i justice of the thin<,'
i aa forcibly as it did
himself than her he
some mistake. My
ver have ilone this
nd. Where did you

ed, as she feared he
him injustice, and
. than she had felt for
told him where she
y she chanced to look
so the signatures of
yd as witnesses to the

e said, " because she
d it was the fear of its
ibled her 80 much."
Frank rejoined ; "but

Itili I Mn ■•• BO reason for my gr»ndf»ther'a
(outtiii.( Roller otV with a inera pittance. It
[is cruid. It i<4 unjust."

"Oh, Frank," Magdalen oriod, and the
[tears which glittered in her nyes snftHned the
Itifrv expression th«'y had wiirn n few mo-
fments Im fore. " Forgive me ; I was harsli
owards you at tir»t, out now I know you
lean to do right. You will, Frank. Vuu
uertaiidy irilt do right."

Ma^'dali;n liad reoovend her powort of
ipcech ami shp tallied raftiiily, begging
I< rank tn he generons with iioger, to leave
him Millbaiik, to let him stay in tlio beauti-
ful honte iio loved ho muuh. " Think of all
he has done for you," she said, olaspiiig her
hands upon his arm and looking at him with
•yeit from which the tears were dropping
/ast. " Were you his son he couhl hardly
have done more ; and ho has been so kind to
me, -me wlio have recruited his kindness so
OrnuUy. oh, Ruger, Rcger, I would give my
life to spare him this blow :'•

She covered her face with her hands,
while Frank sat regarding hur intontly, his
•fTectioii t'ur her at tiiat moment mastering
every other emotion and making him in-
ditioi'cnt to the great fortune which had so
•oddunly come to him. Love for Ma ^dalen
was the strongest sentiment of which he wao
oapiil)le, and it was intensilied with the bus-

Scion that Roger was preferred to himself,
e could interpret her distres-H and concern
ior Ids uncle lu no other way. Gratitude
•lone could never have afTected her as she
was all'ected, and Frank's heart throbbed
with jealousy and fear and intense desire to
■ecure Magdalen for himself. There had
bi^en a momentary feeling of exultation when
he thought of his poverty as a thing of the
p»8t, but Magdalen's love was worth more
to him than a dozen Millbanks, and in his
excitement no sacriKce seemed too great
which would secure it.

"Oh, Roger, Roger," she cried; "I
would give my life to spare him this
btow ! " ALigdalen had cried ; and with these
words still ringing in his ears, Frank said to
her at last, "Magdalen, you need not give
yoar life ; there id a far easier way by which
Roger can be spared the pain of knowing
that Millbank is not his. He never need to
know of this will ; no one need to know of it
but ourselves, — you and me, Magdalen. We
lirill keep the secret together, shall we ? "

Magdalen had lifted up her head, and was
|tening to him with an eager, wistful

jression in her face, which encouraged him

I go on.

I" But, Magdalen, my'silence must have its
^ce, and that price is yourself I "

}he started from him then as if h ' bad
5

stung her, hut smm resameil her former
attitude, and listened while he continued :

" 1 asketl you once, and you refuted mi),
and I meant to try and abide by your dmn-
sion, but I cannot give up ; and when I found
that Roger favoured my suit and would bu
glad if you would give iiui a favourable an-
swer, I resolvetl to try again, and came home
this very afternoon with that «d)ji>ct in view. "

Frank stopped abruptly, struck with the
look of anguish and [lain ami surprise which
crept into Magdalen's eyes as he spoke of
"Roger's favouiinghis suit."

" Uocer consent ; oh no, not that. Roger
never wished that," Magdalen cx<dainied, in
a voice full of bitter disiippointment. " hid
Roger wish it, Frank ? Uid ho say so, sure ?"

Few men, seeing .Magdalen moved as Hho
was then, would have urged thi-irown claims
upon her ; but Frank was dill'erent from
most men. He had set his hopes on Mag-
dalen, and he must win her, and the more
obstacles he found in his way, the more ho
resolved to succeed. Ho would not see the
love for Roger which wai so apparent in all
Magdalen said and did. Ho would ignore
thiit altogether, and he replied, " Most cer-
tainly ho wishes it, or he would not have
given his cimsent for me to speak to you
again. I talked with him about it the last
thing this morning before he started for New
York. Did I tell you ho hail gone there ?
He has, and expects it to be settled l)efore
his return. J am well aware that thjs is not
the time or place for love-making, but your
grea.t desire to spare Roger from a knowledge
of the will wrung from me what otherwise I
would have said at another time. Magdalen,
I have always loved you, from the morning
I put you in jour candle-box and knelt be-
fore you as my prince.is. You were tho
sweetest baby I ever saw. You have ripen-
ed into the loveliest woman, and I want you
for my wife. I have wanted money badly,
but now that 1 have it, I will gladly give it
all for you. Only say that you will be mine,
and I'll burn the paper bjfore your eyes, and
swear to you solemnly that not a wora re-
garding it shall pass my lips. Shall I do it ?"

Magdalen was not looking at him now.
When he assured her of Roger's consent to
woo her for himself, and that he "expected
it to be settled before his return," she had
turned her face away to hide the bitter pain
she knew was written upon it. She had
been terribly mistaken. She had believed
that Roger cared for her, and the knowing
that he did not, that he could even give his
consent for her to marry Frank, was more
than she could bear, and she felt for a mo>
ment as if every ray of happiness had within
the last hour been stricken from her life."

Viv : -

MILLBANK ; OR,

" Shall I do it ? OF.Iy apeak the word, aud
every trace uf tha will shall be destroyed. "

That was wha Frank said to her a second
time, and then Mugdalen turned slowly to-
ward him; but uiade him no reply. She scare
ely realized what he was asking, or what he
meant to d», as he took a match from his
pocket and struck it across the iioor. Gra-
dually a ring of smuke came curling up b^'^ ''
floated toward Magdalen, who sat like a

, stone gazing fixedly at the burning match,

"^which Frank held near the paper.

" Tell me, Magdalen, will you be my wife,
\i I burn the will?" he asked attain ; and
then Magdalen answered him, " Ob, Frank,

> don't tempt me thus. How can I ? Oh,

. Roger, Roger I "

She was begning to' waver, aud Frank saw

rit, and too much excited himself to know
what he was doin^ held the match so
near the paper that it began to scorch, and
in a moment more would have been in a

• blaze. Then Magdalen came tc herself, and

'struok the match from Frank's hand, aud
snatching the paper from him said, vehe-
mently, " You must not'do it. _;Roger would
not suffer it, if he .knew. Roger is honour-
able, Roger is just. / found the paper,
Frank. / will carry it to Roger, and tell
him it wa.^ I who ruined him. 1 will beg for
his forgii'euess, and then go away and die,

. 80 I cannot witness his fall.

She had risen to h^r feet, and was leaving

"the garret, but Frank held her back.
He could not part with her thus ; he could
not risk the probable consequences of her
going to Roger, as she had said she ■v-iul.l.
But one result eould follow such a step, and
that result was death to all Frank most de-

t sired. Millbank weighed as nothing when
compared with Magdalen, and Frank made
her listen to him again- aud worked upon
her pity for Roger until, worried and *>«-
wildered and half-crazed with excitement,

. she cried out, " I'll think about it, Frank.
I will love you, if I can. Give me a week
in which to decide ; but let me go now, or I

.-shall surely die."

Su*^ tore herself from him, and was hurry-
ing down thj stairs with the will graspea in
hei- ^-auds, when sudden' v she atot'^ed, and,
otforiag it to Frank, eftid to bim, "Put it
under tte floor wtiere 1 tourd it. Let it stay
tiiere till the w eek is up. "

There was hope iu what she sarfd, and
Frank iiaatened to do her bidding, and then
went softly down the stairs, and passed
unobt-fved thuugh the the hall out
into the rain, which seemed so
grateful to him after his recent excitement,
lie did nub care to meohis mother just then,
aud so he quietly left the house, and walked
rapidly dowa the areuue toward the village,

intending to strike into the fields aud go back
to Millbank at the usual dinner-hour, so as
to excite no suspicions.

To say that Frank felt no elation at the
thought of Millbank belonging to him, would
be wrung ; for, as he walked along, he was
conscious of a new and pleasant feeling of
importance, mingled with a feeling that he |
was very magnanimous, too, and was doin^ '*
what f'jw men in his position would have v
done.

" All mine, if I choose to claim it," he said
to himself cnce, as he paused on a little knol!
and looked over the broad acres of the Irvinji
estate, which stretched far back from the
river toward the eastern hills. "All mine,
if I choose to have it so."

Then he looked away to the huge mill upon
the river, the shoe-shop farther or*, aim
thought of the immense revenue they yield
ed, and then his eye came back to Millbank
proper, — the handsome house, embownrec
in tro»iS, with its velvety lawa and spacion;
grounds, aud its ease and luxury withiu,
"AH his," unless he chose to throw it away
for a I girl who did not love him, auc
who, he beHeved, preferred Roger am:
poi'erty and toil, to luxury am
Millbank and 'limself. Had he believer
otherwise, had ro suspicion of her preferenc*
for Roger entered his mind, he might havt
hesitateil a moment ere deeidiug to give ui
the princely fortune whiuh had come so sud
denly to him. But the fact that she wa
hard to win only enhanced her value, aiii ,
he resolutely shut his eyes to the sacrifice hf '
was making for her sake, and thought iu
Bte'\d how he would work for her, deny him
self for her. and become all that her husban
ought to be.

"She s/taW love me better than she love!
Roger. She shall never regret her choice i
she dec'des for me," he said, as he went bad
to the house, which he reached just as dinue:
was announced.

Mrs. Walter Scott had not seen him whci
he first came home in the afternoon, but sfc
saw him leave the house and hurry down tli;
avenue, while something in bis manner iii
dicated an unusual degree of perturbatioi
and excitement. A few moments later sh
found Magdalen iu her own room, lying upoi
the sofa, her face as white as marble, and he
eyes wearing so scared a look that she mi
greatly alarmed, and asked what was tb
matter.

' ' A headache ; it came on suddenly,
Magdalen said, while hei lip ;quivered au^
her eyes tilled with tears, which ran dow;
her cheeks in torrents, as Mrs. Irving ler
to kiss her, smoothing her forehead and say
ing to her, "Poor child, you look aa r

ROGER IRVING'S WARD.

the tields aud go back
lal diuatir-hour, 8o as

felt nu elation at the
longing to him, woiiM
k-alked along, he was
i pleasant feeling of
t ith a feeling that he
, too, and was doinji
Kjsitiou would have |

e to claim it, "he said
aused on a little knoll
lad acres of the Irvinj;
(I far back from the
rn hills. "All mint,

f to the huge mill upon
hup farther ori, ami ,
8 revenue they yield ^
ime back to Millbauk |
e house, emboworen ^
ity lawri and spaciou: I

and luxury withiu, ;|
lose to tkrow it away *

not love him, ami
referred Roger am:
to luxury am
f. Had he belie veii |
icion of her preference *

mind, he might havt
re deciding to give u{
hich had come so sud
;he fact that she waf
anced her value, anc
^ye3 to the sacrifice hf
lake, and thought in
urk for her, deny him
le all that her husban

better than she low
er regret her choice i

! said, as he went bacf
reached just as dinm

ad not seen him who
the afternoon, but sh
se and hurry down tli;
ng in his manner it
sgree of perturbatiui
iw moments later sh

own room, lying upo.
hite as marble, and lu
1 a look that she wa

asked what was tli

came on suddenly,
hei lip ^quivered aii>
ears, which ran dow
ts, as Mrs. Irving her

her forehead and say
fhild, you look aa

ynu were suffering so muoh. I wish I could
help you. Can I ?•"

" No, nobody can help me— nobody. Oh,
is it a sii^ to wish I had never been born ?"
was Magdalen's reply, which confirmed Mrs.
Walter Soott in her suspicion that Frank
hail something to do with her viistress.

Frank had spoken again and been refused,
and they might lose the hundred thousand
after all. Mrs. Walter Scott could not af-
ford to lose it. She had formed too many
plans which were all depending upon it to
see it pass from her without an effort to keep
it, and bringing a little stool to Magdalen's
aide, she sat down by her and began to ca-
ress, aud pity, and soothe her,andat last said
to her, " Exuase me, darling, but I am al-
most certain that Frank has had more or less
to do with your headache. I know he has
been here; di^ you see him?"

Magdalen mfi..e no reply, only her tears
fell faster, and she turned her face away
from th« lady, who continued, in her softest,
kindest mauner, "My poor boy, 1 know

all about it; can't you love him ?
ling, for my sake as well as his.

Tell

Try, dar-

We could

what you

be so happy together,
•aid to him."

" No, no, not now. Please don't talk to
me now. I am so miserable," was Magda-
>en'8 reply, aud with that Mrs. Walter
Scott was obliged to be couteat, until she
found herself alone with her sou at the din-
ner table.

Dismissing the servant the moment dessert
was brought in, she asked him abruptly
"what had transpiied between him and
Migdalen to affect her so strangely."

Frank's face was ve-y pale, aud he betray-
ed a good deal of agitation as he asked m
turn what Magdalen herself had said
. He had a kind of intuition that if his
I mother knew of the will, no power on earth
could keep her quiet. He believed she liked
Ma;jdaleu, but he knew she like! money bet-
ter; and he was alarmed leit she should dia-
, cover his secret, and be the uiitrument of
his losing what seemed more and more de-
sirable as one obstacle after another was
thrown iu his way.

Mrs. Irving repeated all that had passed
■between herself and Magdalen, an^l then
sFrank breathed more freely, antl told on his
part what he tiiought necessary to tell.

"Magdalen had been a good deal excited,"
he said, " and had asked for a week in which
to consider the matter, and he had granted
jil. And mother," he added, " please let her
l»lone, and not bother her with questions,
pnd don't mention mo to her above all things.
"A'will spoil everything. "

Frank had finished his pudding by this
ime, and without waiting for hia mother's

answer he left the dining-room and went at
once to his own cliambor, where he passed
the entire evening, thinking of the strange
discovery whioh ha I been made, wondering
what Magdalen's final decision would be, and
occasionally sending a feeling of longing :.ad
regret after the fortune he was giving up.

CHAPTER XXir.

MRS. WALTKR SCOTT AND THB WILt

Roger came fnun New York the next «> •'en*
ing. He could not stay from Millbank any
longer. He had made up his mind to face
the inevitablb. He would make the best of
it if Magdalen accepted Frank, and if she did
not, he would speak for himself at once.
Roger was naturally horeful, and something
told him his chance was not lost for cvor,
that Frank was not so sure of MagiUleii.
He could not believu that he ha I bjdn so do-
ceived, or had misconstrued her kind
graciousness of manner toward himself. A
thuusaud little acts of herd came bick to \u:i
mind and confirmed him in the belief that
unless she was a most consummate coquette,
he was not indifferent to her. On re iching
Bcilvidere, he went straight to Millbank
without stopping at the otfije. He was im-
patient to see M igdalen, but she was not on
the steps to meet him as w.^s her custom
when he returned from New York or Bjstou,
and only Mrs. Walter Scott's bland voice
greeted him as he came in.
Jij" Magdalen was sick with one of her neu-
ralgic headaches," she said, "and had not
left her room that day. "

Roger would not ask her if it was settled.
He would rather put that question to Frank,
who soon came in and inquired anxiously for
Magdalen. A person less observing than
Roger could not fail to see that the Frauk of
to-day was not the Frank of yesterday. He
did not mean to appear differently, but he
could not divest himself wholly of the fuel-
ing that by every lawful right he uas master
where ho had been so long a dependenft, and
there war in his manner an air of assurance
aud independence, and even of patronage to-
ward R )ger, who attributed it wholly to the
wrong source, and when his sister left the
room for a moment, he said, "I suppose I
am to congi-atulate you, of course?"

Frank wanted to say yes, but the lie was
hard to utter, and he answered, " I think so.
She wishes time to consider. Girls always
do, I believe."

Roger knew little of girls, he said, and he
tried to smile and appear natural, and asked
who had called at the office during his ab-
sence, and if hi;) insurance agent had beea
to see about the luill and the shoe-shop.

, HF't 't^ -

MILLBANK ; OR,

Frank answered all hia questions, and
made some suggestions of his own to the
effect that if he were Roger he would insure
in another company, and do various other
things differently.

"I am something of an old fogy, I reckon,
and piefer following in my father's safe
track," Roger said, with a laugh, and then
the conversation ceased and the two men
separated.

Magilalen's headache did not seem to
abate, and for several, days she kept her
room, refiising to see anyone but Hester and
Mrs. Walter Scott, who vied with each other
in their iittentions to her. Mrs. Walter
Scott did a good deal of tender nursing dur-
ing those few days, and called Magdalen by
every pet name there was in her vocabulary,
and kissed her at least a dozen times an
hour, and carried messages which she never
sent to Frank, who was in a state of great
excitement, not only with regard to Magda-
len, but also the will, thoughts of which
drove him nearly frantic. Every day of his
life he mounted the garret stairs, and grop-
ing his way to the loose plank, went down
on his knees to see that it was safe. The
will had a wonderful fascination for him; he
could not keep away from it, and one morn-
ing he took it from the box, and carrying it
to the window, sat down to read it again,
and see if it really did give everything to
him. For the first time then he noticed the
expression, " To the boy known as Roger
Lennox Irving."

It was a very singular way to speak of
one's own child, he thought, and he wonder-
ed what it could mean, and why his grand-
father had, at the very last, made so unjust
a will; and he became so absorbed in thought
as not to hear the steps on the stairs, or see
the woman who came softly to his side and
itood looking over his shoulder.

Magdalen had, at last, asked to see Frank.
She had made up her mind, and insisted up-
on being dressed, and meeting him in her
little sitting-room, which opened from her
chamber.

" Do you feel quite equal *o the task ?"
Mrs. Walter Scott had said, i<i8Sing and ca-
ressing the poor girl, whose face was deathly
pale, save where the fever spots burned up-
on her cheeks. "You don't know how
beautiful you look," she contmued, as she
wrapped the shawl around Magdalen, and
then, with another kiss, went in quest of
Frank.

No one had seen him except Celine, who
remembered having met him in the little
passage leading to the garret stairs.

" He was there yesterday and the day be-
fore," she said, and then passed on, never

dreaming of all which was to follow those
few apparently unimportant words.

•' That is a strange place for Frank to
visit every day," Mrs. Walter Scott thought,
and, curious to know why he was there,
she, too, started for the garret. She alwa5's
stepped lightly, and her soft French slippers
scarcely made a sound as she went up the
stairs. Frank's back was toward her, and
she advanced so cautiously that she stood
close behind him before he was aware of her
presence. She saw the soiled paper he held
in his hand, read a few words, and then ut-
tered a cry of exultation, which started
Frank to his feet, where he stood confrontin;;
her, his face as white as marl>le, and his
eyes blazing with excitement. His mother
was scarcely less pale than himself, and her
eyes were fixed on hia with an unflinching
gaze.

" Ah ! " she said, and in that single inter-
jection was embodied all the cruel exultation
and delight and utter disregard for Roger,
and defiance of the world, which the cold,
hard woman felt.

pf>Anon there broke about her mouth a pe-
culiar kind of smile, which showed her glit-
tering teeth, and made Frank draw back
from her a step or two, while he held the
paper closer in his hand, and farther away
from her. She saw the motion, and there
was something menacing in her attftude ai
she went cl ae to him, and whisper ;d, —

"I was right, after all. Theie was an-
other will, which somebody hid. Where
did you find it ? "

"Magdalen found it," Frank involuntari-
ly rejoined, mentally cursing himself for his
stupidity when it was too late.

" Magdalen found it t And ia that what
ails her? Let me see it, please."

For a moment Frank was tempted to re-
fuse her request, but something in her face
compelled him to unfolu the paper and hold
it while she read it through.

•' Why, Frank, it gives you eoerylhing,"
she exclaimed, with joy thrilling in every
tone, as she clutched his arm, and looked
into his face. "I never supposed it quite
as good as this. "

"Mother," Fraak said, drawing back
rom her again, "are you a fiend to exult
so over Roger's ruin ? Don't you see it gives
him a mere nothing, and he the only sou ? "

All the manhood of Frank's nature waa
roused by his mother's manner, and iie was
tempted for a moment to tear the will in
shreds, and thus prevent the storm which he
felt was rising over Millbank.

" There may be a doubt about the 'only
son,'" Mrs. Walter Scott replied. "A
father does not often deal thus with his only
surviving son. What do you imagine that

ROGER IRVINO'S WARD.

How those

Frank to
;t thought;,
vaa there,
ihe always
;h siippera
nt up the
her, ami
she stood
rare of her
er he held
id then ut-
ich started
confronting
le, and his
iis mother
If, and her
unflinching

ingle inter-

sl exultation

for Roger,

h the cold,

louth a pe-
ed her glit-

draw back
he held the
uther away
, and there

attftude a^
)er ;d, —
:ieie vias an-
,id. Where

involuntari-
(nself for his

a that what
I)

npted to re-
in her face
jer and hold

everything"
ing in every

and looked
(sed it quite

rawing back
ieud to exult
ou see it gives
only sou ? "
I nature was
, and iie was
ir the will in
torm which he

mt the 'only

replied. " A

with his only

imagine that

means ? " and she pointed to the words, " the
boy known as Roger Lennox Irving."

Frank knew then what it meant ; knew
that in some way a doubt as to Roger's birth
had been lodged in his grandfather's mind,
but it found no answering chord in his
breast.

"Never will I believe that of Roger's
mother. He is more an Irving than I am,
everybody says. Shame on you for crediting
the story, even for a moment, and my curse
on the one who put that thought in the old
man's heart, for it was put there by some-
body."

lie was cursing her right to her face, and
he was going on to say still more when she
laid her hand over his mouth, and said, —

" Stop, my son. You don't know whom
you are cursing, nor any of the circum-
stances. You are no judge of Jessie Mor-
ton's conduct. Far be it from me to condemn
her now that she is dead. She was a silly girl,
easily influenced, and never loved your
giilfabher, who was three times her age.
We read that the parents' sin shall be visited
upon the children, and if she sinned, her
child has surely reaped the consequences, or
will when this will is proved. Poor Roger !
I, too, am sorry for him, and disposed to be
lenient ; but he cannot expect us to let
things go on as they have done now that
everything is reversed. How did Magdalen
happen to find it ? "

She was talking very gently now, by way
of quieting Frank, who told her briefly what
he knew of finding the will, anl then, little
by little as she adroitly questioned him,
he let out the particulars of his inter-
view with Magdalen, and Mrs. Walter
Scott knew the secret of Ma^C -.'on's
distress. Her face was turned away from
Frank, who did not see the cold, reniorse-
less expre'^sion which settled upon it, as
she thought of Magdalen's pitting herself
agai ist the Millbank fortune. Magdalen's
value was decreasing fast. The master of
Millbank could surely find a wife more
worthy of him than the beggar girl who had
been deserted in the cars, and that Magdalen
Lennox should not mairy her sou was the de-
cision she reached at a bound, and Frank
must have suspected the nature of her
thoughts, as she sat nervously tapping her
foot upon the floor, and looking off through
tha window, with great wrinkles in ner fore-
head and between her eyes.

"Mother," he said, and there was some-
thing pleading as well a.' reproachful in his
voice, "I did not mean that you should
know of this, and now that you do, 1 must
beg of you to keep your knowledge to your-
self. I shall lose Magdalen if you do not.

and I care more for her than n hundred for-
tunes."

His mother turned fully toward him now
and said, sneeriugly, "A disinterested lover,
truly. Perhaps when you promised to de-
stroy the will you forgot the hundred thou-
sand which, if Roger remained master here,
would come to you with Magdalen, and yOu
made yourself believe yon were doing a very
unselfish and romantic thing in preferring
Magdalen and poverty to Millbank. "

" Mother," Frank cried, " I swear to you
that a thought of that hundred thousand
never crossed my mind '.'.ntil this moment.
My love foi Magdalen is strong enough to
brave poverty in any form for her sake."

" And you really mean to marry her?"

She put the question so coolly that Frank
gazed at her in astonishment, wondering
what she meant.

Of course he meant to marry her if she
would take him ; he would prefer her to a
thousand Millbanks. " And mother," he
added, " you shall not tell her that you know
of the will until after to-morrow. She is to
give me her answer then. Promise, or I
will destroy this cursed paper before your
very eyes."

He made a motion as if he would tear it in
pieces, when, with a sudden gesture, his
mother caught it from him and held it fast
in her own nands.

" The will is not safe with you," she said.
" I will keep it for you. I shall not trouble
Magdalen, but I shall go at once to Iloger.
I cannot see you throw away wealth, and
ease, and position for a bit of sentiment with
regard to a girl whose parentage is doubtful,
to say the least of it, and who can bring you
nothing but a pretty face. "

She had put the will in her pocket. There
was no way of getting it from her, except by
force, and Frank saw her depart without a
word, and knew she was going to Roger.
Suddenly it occurred to him that Roger
might not have left the office yet, and he
started up, exclaiming, " I am the one to
tell him first, if he must know. I can break
it to him easier than mother. I shall not be
hard on Roger. "

Thus thinking, Frank started swiftly
across the fields m the direction of Roger's
ofl6ce, hoping either to meet him, or to find
him there, and trying to decide how he
should break the news so as to wound his
uncle as little as possible, and make him
understand that he was not in fault.

CHAPTER XXIIL

ROGER AND THE WILL.

The office was closed, the shutters down,
and Roger gone. Frank had come too late.

MILLBANK ; OR,

and he swiftly retraced hia Bteps homeward,
hoping still to be in time to tell the news be-
fore his mother. But hia hopes were vain.
Roger had entered the house while Frank
was in the garret, and Mrs. Walter 8cott
heard him in hia room as she passed through
tlie hall after her interview with Ler son.
But she was too much agitated and
too flurried to speak to him just then.
She must compose herself a little, and utterly
forgetful of Magdalen, who was waiting for
Frank, and growing impatient at his delay,
she went to her own room and read the will
again to make sure that all was right and
Frank the lawful heir. She could not re-
alize it, it had come so suddenly upon her ;
but she knew that it was so, and the bore
herself like a queen when she at last arose,
and started for Roger's room. It was the
Mrs. Walter Scott of former days resurrected
and intenaiHed who sweptso proudly through
the hall, just inclining her head to the ser-
vant whom she met, and thinking, as she
had once thought before, bow she would
dismiss the entire household and set up a
new government of her own. There had
been some uncertainty attending the future
when she made this decision before, but now
there wai none. She held the document
which maJp her safe in her possessions ; she
was tlie lady of Millbank, and therd was a
good deal of assurance in the knock, to which
Roger responded " Come in. "

tie was in hia dressing-gown, and looking
pale and worn just as he had looked ever
since hia return from New York. Beside
him in a vas<; upon the table waa a bouquet,
which he had arranged for Magdalen, intend-
ing to send it to her with her dinner. And
Mrs. Walter Scott saw it and guessed what
it was for, and there flashed into her mind a
thought that she would make matters right
between Roger and Magdalen ; she would
help them to each other, and save Frank
from the possibility of a mesalliance. But
Mrs. Walter Scott waa a very cautious
woman ; she always kept something in re-
serve in case one plan should fail, and now
there came a thought that possibly Roger
might contest the will and win, and if he
did, it might be well to reconsider Jvlngd»-
len and her hundred thousand dollars, so
she concluded that for the prt-sent it would
be better not to throw Magdalen overboard.
That could be done hereafter, if necessary.

She waa very gracious to Roger, and took
the seat he offered her, and played with her
watch-chain, wondering how she should
begin. It was harder than she had antici-
pated, — telling a man like Roger that all he
had thou'^ht his, belonged to another ; and
she hesitated, and ^rew cold and hot and
withal a little afraid of Roger, who was

beginning to wonder why she was there, and
what she wanted to say.

*' Can I do anytidng for you, Helen ?" he
asked, just as he had once before, when she
came on an errand which had caused him so
much pain.

Then she had come to tear Magdalen from
him ; now she was there to take his fortune,
his birthright away ; and it is not strange
that, cruel as she was, she hesitated how to
begin.

" Roger," she said, in reply to his question,
"I am here on a most unpleasant errand,
but one which, as a mother whose first duty
is to her son, I must perform. You remem-
ber the f will which at your father's death
could not be found."

She waa taking it from her pocket, and
Roger, who was quick of comprehension,
knew before she laid the worn paper upo.a
the tablr, that the will wa^* found t With
trembling haste he snatched it up, and she
made no effort to restrain him. She had
faith in the man she was ruining. She knt^r
the will was safe iu his hands ; he would
neither destroy nor deface it. He would
give it its due consideration, and she sat
watching him while he read it through, and
pitying Lim, it must be confessed, with all
the little womanly feeling she had left. She
would have been a stone not to have pitied
one whose lips uttered no sound as he read,
but quivered and trembled, and grew so
bloodless and thin, while his face dripped
with the perspiration which started from
every pore and rolled down his chin iu drops.
She thought at first that they were tears, but
when he lifted his eyes to hers as he finished
reading, she saw that they were drj-, but
oh, so full of pain and auguish and surprise,
and woun>led love and grief, that his father
should have disinherited him for such a
cause. He knew what the clause "the boy
known as Roger Lennox Irving" implied,
and that hurt him more than al the rest.

Why had hia father believed such a thing
of his mother, and who had told
him the shameful story ? Leaning across ^he
table to his sister he pointed to the clause,
and moving his finger slowly under each
word, said to her in a voice she would never
have recognized as his, " Helen, who poison-
ed my fatnei 's mind with that tale ? "

Mr. Walter Scott did not know of the
letter in Magdalen's possession, or how much
Hester Floyd had overheard years before,
when, with lying tongue, she had hinted
things she knew could not be true, and iTiade
the old man mad with jealousy. She did
not think how soon she would be confronted
with her lie, and she answered, " I do not
know. It is the first intimation I have

hearc
hi w
Sh(
Scho'
the ol
but I!
ed st(
not ki
my m(
"N
there
which
or lool
of poo
"\V
asked
pay hi I
replied
hunted
a child
Buti
she safl
" Ma
thousai
else.

That
groan h
sob al tt
his siat
like th
Roger A
anguish
moans,
member]
of looki
child,
seemed,
and, af
suppose
had she
and rest
he thou
the cob
been to
fession,
will thei
had foi
Walter
And
thought
true, —
been so
herself
and toll
felt one
another,
woman
as he ha(
to hope .
nothing
leagueil
Milil).ird
a ruined.

ROGER IRVING'S WARD.

■e, anil

1 ?" he
Bn she
Uim 8o

n from
>rtune,
jtrauge
how to

lestion,
errantl,
St duty
reniem-
B death

fct, and

;ieu»ion,

er upo.n

/ With

and she

She had

he knt^r

le wouUl

3 would
she sat

ugh, and
with all

eft. She

>ve x^itied

1 he read,
grew so
<lripped

ted from
iu drops,
teara.but
e finished
dry, but

. surprise,
lis father
r such a
•' the boy
implied,
iC rest.
;h a thing
had told
across the
ihe clause,
nder each
ould never
ho poison-

)W of the
how much
irs before,
lad hinted

and aiade
. She did
confronted

" I do not
)n I have

heard of Squire Irving'a reason for ch&nfiioa
hi will." ' « » »

She had forgotten her language to Lawyer
Schoield the nis^ht after the funeral when
the other will was the subject of debate ;
but Roger remembered it, and hia eyes rest-
ed steadily on her face as he said, " You do
not know ? You never heard it hinted that
my motlier waa false, then ? "

"Never," siio felt constrained to say, for
there was sonietliing in those burning eyes
which threate led her with harm if by word
or look she brjathed aught against the purity
of poor Jessie Morton.

" Who found this will, and where ?" Roger
asked her next, and with a moan desire to
pay him for that look, Mrs. Walter Scott
replied, "Magdalen found it. She has
hunted for it at intervals ever since she was
a child and heard that there was one."

But alie repented wliat she had raid when
she saw how deep her blow had struck.

** Magila found it ; oh, Magda, I would a
thousaud times rather it had been some >ne
else.

That was whit Roger said, as with a bitter
groan he laid 'lis head upon the table, while
sob alter sob shook his frame and frightened
his sister, who had never dreamed of pain
like this. 'I'earless sobs they were, for
Roger was not crying ; he was withing in
anguish, and the sobs were like gasping
moans, so terrible was his gritf. He re-
membered what Magdalen had told him once
of looking after the will when she was a
child, and remembered how sorry she had
seemed. Had she deliberately deceived him,
and, after he had told her that it was
supposed to give Frank nearly everything,
had she resumed her search, hoping to find
and restore to her lover his fortune ? Then
he thought of that night with Hester, and
the cobweb in Magdalen's hair. She had
been to the garret, according to her own con-
fession, and she had looked for the missing
will then and "at intervals" since, until she
had found it and sent it to him by Mrs.
Walter Scott, instead of bringing it herself ?

And he had loved her so much, and
thought her so innocent and artless and
true, — Ilia little girl through whom he had
been so terribly wounded. If she had come
herself with it and given it into his hands
and told him all about it, he would not have
felt one half so badly as to receive it from
another, and that other the cruel, pitiless
woman whose real character he recognized
as he had never done before. He had nothing
to hope froHj her, nothing to hope from Frank,
nothing from Magdalen. They were all
leagued against him. They would enjoy
Millbank, and he would go from their midst
a ruined, heart broken mjin, shorn of his love,

shorn of his fortune, and shorn of his nnme,
if that dreadful clause, " the boy known as
Roger Lennox Irving," really meant any-
thing. He knew it was false ; he never for
a moment thought otherwise ; but it was re-
corded against him by his own father, an<l
after Magdalen, it was the keenest, bitterest
pang of all.

Could that have been stricken out and
could he have kept Magdalen, he would have
given all the rest without a murmur.

As the will read, it waa right that Frank
should come into his inheritance, and Roger
had no thought or wish to keep him from it.
He did not meditate a warfare against his
nephew, as his sister feared he might. Ho
had only given way for a few momenta to the
grief, and pain, and humiliation which •;.ni
come so suddenly upon him, and he lay,
with liis face upon the table, until
the first burst of the storm was over, and
his sobs changed to long-drawn breaths,
and finally ceased entirely, as he lifteil
up his head and looked again at the fata{
document before him.

Shocked at the sight of his distress, his
sister had at first tried to comfort him. With
a woman's quick perceptiim she had seen
that Magdalen was the sorest part of all, and
had said to him soothingly :

" It was bj accident that Magdalen found
it. She was greatly disturbed about it."

This did not tally with her first statement,
that " Mag(l..-.en had sought for it at inter-
vals," and Roger made a gesture for her to
stop. So she sat watching him, and trem-
bling a little, as she began dimly to see
what the taking of Millbank from Roger
would involve.

" Excuse me, Helen," he said, with bis
old courtesy of manner, as he wii)ed tlie
sweat drops from hia beard. " Excuse me if,
for a moment, I gave way to my feelinjjs iu
your presence. It was so sudden, and there
were so many sources of pain which met me
at once, that I could not at first control my-
self. It was not so much the losa of my for-
tune. I could bear that — "

" Then vou do not intend to contest the
will ?" Mrs. Walter Scott said.

It was a strange question for her to ask
then, and she blushed as she did it ; l)ut she
must know what the prospect was, whiU un-
derlying her own selfish motives waM a
thought that if Roger did 7iot mean to dis-
pute the right with Frank, she would l)ra> e
the displeasure of her son, and then ami
there pour balm into the wound, b}' telling
Roger of hfebelief t';at he was, and always
had been, plfeferred to Frank by Magdalen,
But she was prevented from this by the ab-
I upt entrance of Frank himself. He iiad
heard that his mother was with Roge/, audi

MILLBANK ; OR,

had hastened to the room, seeing at a glance
that the blow had been given ; that Koger
had seen the will ; and for a moment he stood
speechless before the white face and the soft
blue eyes which met him so wistfnlly as he
came in. There was no reproach in them,
only a dumb kind of pleading as if for pity
which touched Frank's heart to the
very core, and brought him to lloger's side.

Roger was the first to speak. Patting
out his hand to Frank, he tried to smile, and
baid :

" Forgive me,my boy,for having kept yon
from your own so long. If I had believed
for » moment that there was such a will, I
would never have rested day or night till I
had found it for you. I wish I had. I would
far rr ther I had found it than — than — — "

He could not say ".Magdalen," but Frank
knew whom he meant, and, in his great pily
for the wounded man, he was ready to give up
everything tnhimhut Magdalen. He must
have her, but Roger should keep Millbank.

" I believe that I am more sorry than you
can be that the will is found," he said, still
grasping Roger's hand. '* And I want to
say to you now that I prefer you should
keep the place just as you have done. There
need be no change. Only give me enough
to support myself and — and ''

He could not say Magdalen either, for he
was not so sure of her, but Roger said it for
him.

•' Support yourself and
know what you mean, my
very generous and kind, but
When 1 thought Millbank mine, I kept it,
Now that I know it is not mine, I shall ac-
cept no j)art of it, however small."

He spoke sternly, and his face began to
harden. He was tliinking of the clause,
" the boy known as Roger Lennox Irving."
He could take no part of the estate of the
n;an wl\o had dictated those cruel words.
He was too proud for that ; he would rather
earn his bread by the sweat of his brow
than be beholden to one who could believe
such things of his mother. Frank saw the
change in his n auner, and anxious to
propitiate him, began again to urge his wish
that Roger would at least allow him to
divide the inheritance in case the will was
proved, but Roger stopped him impatiently.

*' It is not you, ray boy, whose gift 1 re-
fuse. If you cannot understand me I
*liall not now explain. I've lived on you for
years. I ean never repay that, for I feel as
iif all my energies ere crippled, so I will let
itliat obligation remain, but must incur no
tottier. As to proving the will," — and Roger
sniiiled bitterly when he saw how eagerly Lis
si ,t«r listened, and remembered the question
.'Saelkad ubked him just as Frank came in,

Magdalen. I

boy. You are

right is right.

and which he had not yetjanswered, — " As to
proving the will, you will have no trouble
there. I certainly shall make none. You
will find it very easy stepping into your
estate."

Mrs. Walter Scott drew a long breath of
relief and sank into her chair, in the easy,
contented, languid attitude she always as-
sumed when satisfied with herself and her
condition. She groused up, however, when
Ro^er went on to say :

" One thing I must investigate, and tlint is
who hid this will, and why. Have you any
theory ? " and he turned to his Hister, who
replied, " I have always suspected Hester
Floyd. She was a witnc8i>, with htr hus-
band."

"Why did you always suspect her, and
what reason had you for believing there was
a later will than the one made in my fa-
vour ?" Roger asked, and his sister quailed
beneath the searching glance of his eyes.

She could not tell him all she knew, and
she coloured scarlet and stammered out some-
thing about Mrs. Floyd's strange niauuer nt
the time of the squire's funeral, nearly
twenty years ago.

"Frank, please go for Hester," Roger
said. " We will hear what she has to say."

Frank bowed in acquiescence, and, leaving
the room, was soon knocking at Hester
Floyd's door.

CHAPTER XXIV.

HESTER AND THE WILU

Hester was sitting by her lire knitting a
sock for Roger, and Aleck was with her,
smoking his pipe in the corner, and occasion-
ally opening his small, sleepy eyes to look at
his better half when she addressed some re-
mark to him. They were a very quiet, com-
fortable, easy -looking couple as they sat there
toijether in the pleasant room which had
been theirs for more than forty years, and
their thoughts were as far as possible from
the storm-cloud bursting over their heads,
and of which Frank was the harbinger.

" Mrs. Floyd, Mr. Irving would like to see
you in the library," Frank said a little
stiffly, and in his manner there was a tinge
of importance and self-assurance unusual to
him wlien addressing the h^'cid of Millbank,
Mrs. Hester Floyd.

Hester did not detect this manner, but she
saw that he was agitated and nervous, and
she dropped a stitch in her knitting as she
looked at him and said, " Roger wants me in
the library ? What for ? Has anything
happened that you look white as a rag ?"

Frank was twenty-seven years old, but
there was still enough of the child about him
to make him like to be first to communicate

trustee
If I'd
put foe
"M
mothei
it."
It
and H
jro
took
how ai
yoursel
. By
m the
way
change^
the

had ex
ant, an
those
him.
white-f
helplust
a smile
and sai

ROGER IRVING'S WARD.

3ath of
i easy,
ay8 a8-
ud her
, -wheu

I tlmt is
^ou any
er, who
Hester
litr huB-

her, and
here was
my fa-
■ (^uailt;«l
sycs.

bw, and
i)ut«(>nie-
lauuer nt
1, nearly

," Roger

s to say."
a, leaving
it Heater

knitting a

with her,

d occaaion-

to look at

BO me re-

uiet, com-

"y sat there

■which had

ears, and

ible from
leir heads,
inger.

like to sec
id a little
was a tinge
unusual to
Millbank,

ler, but she

srvous, and

tting as she

*-aut8 me in

anything

a rag

but

ra old,

(1 about him

)mmunicate

news whether good or bad, and to Hester's
question he replied, '* Yea. The minaing
will ix/ouwl."

Hester dropped a whole needlefuU of
stitches, and she was whiter now than Frank
as she sprang to Aleck's side and shook him
BO vigorously that the pipe fell from his
mouth, and the stolid, stupid look left his
face. for ouoe as she said : "Do you herr,
Aleck, the will is found 1 The will that
turns Roger out-doors."

Aleck did imt seem so much agitated as
his wife, and after gazing blankly at her 'or
a moment, he slowly picked up his

1)ipe and s.iid, with the uttermost noncha-
ance, " You better go and see to't. Y'^ou
don't want me along."

She did Hot want him ; that is, she did
not need him ; and with a gesture of con-
tempt she turned from him to Frank, and
Baid, " I am ready. Come."

There was nothing of the deference due to
the heir of Millbank in her tone and manner.
Frank would never receive that from her,and
flounced out into the hall, and kept a step or
two in advance of the young man, to whom
she. said, "Who is with Roger? Any-
body ? "

As she came nearer to the library she be-
gan to have a little dread of what she
might encounter, and visions of lawyers and
constables, armed and equipped to arrest
her bodily, llitted uneasily before her mind ;
but when Frank replied, "There is no one
there but mother," her fear vanished, and
was succeeded by a most violent tit of
anger at the luckless Mrs. Walter Soott.

"The jade !" she said. " I always mis-
trusted how her snoopin' around would end.
If I'd had my way, she should never have
put foot inside this house, the trollop."

"Mrs. Floyd, you are speaking of my
mother. You must stotj. I cannot allow
it."

It was the master of Millbank who spoke,
and Hester turned upon him fiercely.

"tFor the Lord's sake, how long since you
took such airs ? I shall speak of that woman
how and where I choose, and you can't help
yourself."

By this it will be seen that Hester was not
in the softest of moods as she made her
way to the library, but her feelings
changed ihe moment she stood in
the room where Rocer was. She
had expected to find him hot, excited, deli-
ant, and ready, like herself, to l)attle with
those who would take his birthright from
him. She was not prepared for the crushed,
white-face I man who looked up at her so
helplessly as slie came in, and tried to force
a smile as he pointed to a chair at his bide,
and said. —

"Sit here by me, Heater. It is you and I
now. You and I alone. "

His chin quivered a little as ho held the
chair for her to sit down, and tlnni kept
his handjon her shoulder as if ht! felt better,
stronger so. He knew In; had her sympathy,
that every pulsation of litsr heart beat for
him, that she would cling to liim through
weal an I woe, and he fidt a kind of security
in having her there beside him. Hester saw
the yellow, soiled paper spread out out be-
fore him, and recogni/t'd it at a glanc.
Then she looked across the tabhf towanl the
proud woman who sat toying with herrings,
and exulting at the downfall of poor Roger.
At her Hester glowered savagely, and was
met by a derisive smile, which told how
utterly inditlerent the l;idy was to her and
her opinion. Then Hestet'a glunoo came
back, and rested pityingly on her boy, whose
finger now was on the will, and who said to
her, —

" " Plestcr, there imsanothr- •■ ill, asllcle
thought. It is here before u .;. it was found
under the garret-fioor. Do you know who
put it there ?"

He was very calm, as if asking an ordinary
question, and his manner wont far towaid
reassuring Hester, wlio by this time had
made up her mind to ttdl the truth and
brave the consequences.

" Yes," she replied. " I put it there my-
self the day your father died."

" I told you so, drop))e'l from Mrs. Walter
Scott's lips ; but He-ster paid no heed to
her.

She was looking at Itoger, fascinated by
the expression of his eyes and face as he went
on to(|ue8tion her.

" Why did you hide it, and where did you
find it ?'■'

"It was lying on the table, where Aleck
found him dead, 8j)read out before him, as if
he iiad been re<iding It over, as I know he
had, and he meant to cliange it, too, for he'd
asked young SchoHeld to come that night
and {\x it. Don't you remember Schofield
said so ?"

Roger nodded, and slie continued :

" And I know by another way that he
ni3int to change it. 'Twaa so writ in hia
letter to you."

"His letter to mf, Heater? There was
nothing like that in the letter," Roger ex-
claimed ; and Hester continued :

" Not in the one I gave to yon, I know.
That he must have begun first, and <iuif:, be-
cause he blotched it, or something. Any
ways, there was another one tiniahed for
you, and in it he said he was goin' to fix the
will, add a cod-cil or something, l)e^ai''je he
said it was unjust."

***

MILLBANK ; OR,

" Why 'lil you witlilu)l(l that letter from
me, H<'Rt(;i , ami wlicie is it now ? "

Roger spil^o a little sternly, and glad of
an excusoto turn his uttention from hereelf
o some oiifi tjlse, Henter replied, —

" It vas in the same box with t'other
pnpcr, and I s',i()sc mIic'h ^ot it who snooped
till Hhe found tlie will."

She gl)iMf;t;d meaningly at Mrs. Walter
Scott, wlio deigned her no re[»ly, but who
began to feel uneasy with regard to the let-
ter, of which she hail not before hjard, and
whose ctntentH she did not know.

Neither Roger nor Frank wished to mix
Magflal .1 up with the matter, if po8.-'V)le to
avoid it, and no mentir was m le i her
then, and Iff^st"" wat , liver •>. . V : we it
WHS Mrs. Wai r ' jotb ',v o };,,.;* found the
will.

"You read the k.tor, 'H U,'. Tell me
what was in it," Roger said.

And tlien Hester's face flushed, and ;ier
eyes flashed live, as she rey)lie'l. —

'* There was in it that which had never ort
to be writ. He giv the reason why he made
this will. He wns driv to it by somebody
who pisoned his mind with the biggest, most
impossible slander -agin the sweetest, inno-
centest woni!>n that ever drawed the
Irath."

Roger was lif^tening eagerly now, with a
fiery gleam in In^ blue eyes, and his nostrils
quivering with indignation.

Mrs. Walter Scott was listening too, her
face very pale, except wliere a bricht symt of
red burned on her cheeks, and her lips slight-
ly api^rt, showing her white teeth.

Frank was listening also, and gradually
coming to an understanding of what had
been so mj'ste'^ious before.

NtMther nf tiie three thought of interrupt-
ing Hester, who had the field to herself, and
who, now that she was fairly launched,
went on rapidly ; •

" I'll make a. clean breast of it, bein' the
will is found, whicli I never meant it should
be, and then them as is mistress hero now
can take me to jail as soon as they likes. It
don't matter, the few days I've got left to
live. I signed that first will, me and Aleck,
twenty odd year ago, and more, and I knew
pretty well what was in it, and that it was
right, and gin the property to the proper tier-
son; and then I thought no more about it till a
few montlis before he died, when Aleck and
me was called in agin to witness another
will, here in this room, standin* about as I
set now, with the old gentleman where (hat
woman is, Aleck where yf)U be, and L-^wyer
Schofield wliere Mr. Frank stands. I
thought it was a queer thing, and mistrusted
flometliin' wrong, particularly as I remem-
bered a oouversation I overheard a week o."

so before yru, .':toger, and your mother, com-
pared to who, tliat other woman ain't tit t"*
live in the same place ; and she won't nei-
ther, nhe'll find, when we all get our dues.''

Both Roger and Frank knew she referred
to Mrs. Walter Scott, who, if angry glances
could have annihilated her, would have done
BO. Rut Hester was not afraid of her, and
went on, not very connectedly, but still in-
telligibly, to those who were listening so in-
tently :

" She pisoned his mind with snaky, insin-
uatin' lies, which she didn't exactly speak
out, as I heard, but hinted at, and .lade me
so mad that I wan»;ed to throt*!;- I ^r tl en,
and I wish I hai! \iUBt inio the room and
■■old her , was all a lie, as I could prove
and swear to ; for, from the day Jessie
Morton married Squire Irving until the
summer she went to Saratoga, when
you, Roger, was quito a little
shaver, she never laid eyes on vhat
man, who was her ruin afterward. I know
it is so, and so does others, for I've inquired;
and if the scamp was here, he'd tell you so,
which I wish he was, and if I knew where
to Hnd him, I'd go on my hands and knees to
get his word, too, that what this good-for-
nothing snake in the grass told w. s a lie ! "

Human nature could endure no more, and
Mrs. Walter Scott sprang to her feet, and
turning to her son, asked, —

" If he, a man, would sit qnietlv, and hear
his motlier so abused ? "

" You have a right to stop her," she said,
as she saw Frank hesitate. " A right to
turn her out of the house.'

" I'd like to see him do it," Hester rejoin-
ed, her old face aglow with passion and
fierce anger.

"Hush, Hester, Iiuii'i," Roger said, in his
quiet, gentle way ; -..id you, Helen, sit
(lown and listen. If I can bear this, you
certainly can."

The persoiration was rolling from his face
in great drop?' a second time, and something
like a groan broke from his lips as he cover-
ed his eyes with his 'lands and said, " My
mother, oh, my mother, that I should hear
her so mali;;ned."

"She Wiin't maligned," Hester exclaimed,
misinterpreting the meaning of the word.
''It was a lie, the whole on"t. She never
left this house except for church or parties,
and only three of them, one to Miss John-
son's, one to Squiro Schofield's, and one to
Mrs. Lennox's, and a few calls, from the
time she came here till after you was born ;
I know, I was here, I was your nurse, I
waited on her, and loved her like ray own
from the moment she cried so on my neck
and. said she didn't 'vant to come here.
She was too young to come as his wife. She

ROOER mVING'S WARD.

; t;
II eU

rred
iDces
done
and
1 in-

in-

innin-
BpeaW
le me
tl en,

1 and
prove
JesBie
\ the

when

little

that

[ know

quired;

you so,

where
:nee8 to
wd-for-
lie!"
i)re, and
;et, and

iind hear

he flaid,
ight to

r rejoin-
on and

1, in hi3
ilen, sit
lis, you

his face
Imething
\e cover-
(l, "My
lild hear

claimed,
le word.
Tie never

parties,
ia John-
ll one to
|rom the

fis V>orn ;

aurse, I
Imy own
liy neck

lie here.

le. She

was nothiu' but a child, and when she
couldn't stau' the racket anj longer she rau
away.

Roger was shaking now as with an agxie
tit. Here was something which Hester
could not deny. J'ssie had run away and
left him, hei baby l)oy. There was no get-
ting siuoothi^ over that, and he shivered
with pain .;s the old woman went on :

"I don't pretend to e: ise her, though
*ihere'a a good deal to he b^id on both sides,
and it mobt broke her heart, as a body who
see her as I did that last night at home
would know.'

'* r liler," Roger said, and his voice was
tuil (f anguish, "why must yon tell all this?
It surely has nothing to do with the matter
under consideration, and I would rather bo
spared if possible, or at least hear it alone."

"I muHt tell it," Hester rejoined, "to
show you why I hid the will, and why he
made it, and how big a lie that xvoman told
him."

There was the most intense scorn in her
voice every time slie said "that woman,"
and Mrs. Walter Scott winced under it, but
had no redress then ; her time for that
would be by and by, she reflected, and as-
suming a haughty indifference she was far
from feeling tihe kept still while Hester went
on :

" The right she went away she undressed
her baby herself ; she wouhlu'tlet me touch
him, and all the time she did it she was
whispering, and cooing, and crying-liko over
him, and she kissed his face and arms, and
even his little feet, and said once aloud so I
in the next room heard her, ' My poor dar-
ling, my pet, my precious one, will you ever
hate your mother ? "

"Hester, 1 cannot hear another word of
that. Don't you see you are killing me ? "
Roger said, and this time the tears streamed
in torrents down his face, and his voice was
choked with sobs.

Hester heeded him now, and there were
tears on her wrinkled face as she laid her
hand pityingly on his golden brown hair and
said, "Poor boy, I won't harrer you any
more. I'll stick to the pint, which is that
your mother, after you was asleep, and just
afore I left her for the night, came up to me
in her pretty coaxin' way, and told me what
a comfort I was to her, and said if anything
ever was to happen that Roger should have
n.) mother, she would trust me to care for
him before all the world, and she made me
promise that if anything should happen I
would never desert Roger but love him as if
he was my own, and consider his interests
before that of any one else. I want you to
mind them words, 'consider his interestsbefore
ny one else,' for that's the upshot of the

whole thing. I promised to do it. I ni'nre
I would do it, and I've kep' my m rd. Next
morning she was gone, and in a week or so
was drowndo(l|<leAd off Cape Hatterass, where
I hope I'll never go, for tnere's alius •• hur-
ricane there where there ain't a br h no

' wheres else. I sot them words c!ov.n I've
read 'em every Sunday since as iwi."r as

[ my Itihle, and that fetches me to the . iruin'
the squire was found dead.

I " That woman had been here a few
months before, workin' on his pride ami

Itisenen' his mind, till he was drove out of
lis head, and yon not here either, to prove
I it was a lie by your face, which, savin' the
eyes and hair, is every inch an Irving. He
acted crazy-like and mad ihem days, as
I Aleck and me noticed, and he ma'lc another
I will, after that woman was gone to Boston,
and a spell after she went home for good.
Aleck wen' ''» the mornin' to make a

, fire here ii. '.his ery room, and, sittin' in
! his chair, ^'o fc I the scpiire stark dead,
' and cold, 's'uj «ind he come for me, who
was th> -nlv other body up as good luck
would . ,.v it and I not more'nhalf dressed.
There vas i o v, ill, lyin' ojen on the table,
1 as if li' h-id been readin' it, and I rrad it,
and A , '.o; 'twas this same will, and
my bhAti biled like a caldron kittle, and
Aleck fairly swore, and we said what does
it mean ? There was a letter on the table,
too, a finished letter for Roger,and I read it,
and found the reason there. The sqnire's
conscience had been a smittin' him ever since
he did the rascally thing, and last he'd made
up his mind to add a cod-cill, and he seem-
ed to have a kind of forerunner that he
should never see Roger agin, and so he tried
to explain tlie bedivelment and smooth it
over and all that, and signed himself, ' Your
affectionate father. ' "

"Did he, Hester? Did he own me at
last? " Roger's voice rang through the room
like a bell, its joyful tones thrilling even
Mrs. Walter Scott, who was growing greatly
interested in Hester's narrative, while KranU
stood perfectly spellbound, as if fearful of
losing a word of the strange story.

"Yes, I'm pretty sure he did," Hester
said, in reply to Roger's question. " Any
way, he said he had forgiven your mother,
and he wouM leave her letter with his, for
you, in case he never see you, and I gin you
your mother's but kept hia, because that
would have told you about the will, which I
meant to hide. W ^ both thouglit on't it to
once, Aleck and me, but I spoke first,
bein' a woman, and mentioned the promise
to consider Roger's interest before anybody's
else, and Jessie seemed to be there with us,
and haunted me, with the great blue eyes
of hern, tilFI made up my mind, and took

MILLBANK ; OR

tho peuky thing and the letter, aud put 'tjin
away •lufu up in tho garret under the lloor,
where I'd had a piece sawed out a epell he*
fore BO UH to put pizeu under there for tlie
rata. Tiieu 1 moved an <dd Bottee over the
plaoR, and chairs and things, so that it
■would look as if nobody liad been there for
ngea. lie must liavc begun another letter
lirHt and bh)1ched it, for the sheet lay there,
and 1 took it as n special Providtuce aud
kcnt it for Roger, as his father's last words
to him. I knew t'other will was not destroy-
ed, for I'd seeu it not loug before, and I
found it in hia writing desk, sealed JSup with
a drum, and left it there, and thou tiht came
witli her lofty airs, and queened it over us,
as if she thought she was lord of all ; but
her feathers drooped a 1)it when the will was
read, and ahe thought the old,lihrry'was in it,
and hinted, and 8noo;)ed, and rummaged the
very first night, for 1 found her there, with
her night gownd on, and more than forty
])aper8 Htickiu' in her hair, though why she
thought 'twas there is more than I know ;
but she'u hunted the garret ever uiuce by
turns, and I moved it twice, and then car-
ried it l)uck, and once she set Magdalen at
it, she or ha, it's little matter which."

Magdalen was a sore point with Uoger,aud
he slmddored when her name was mention-
ed, and thought of the letter, and wondered
if she had it, aud would ever bring it to
him.

•' I was easy enough when that woman
wasn't liere," Hester continued, " and I
did think for a spell she'd met with a
cliange, she was so soft and so velvety and
80 nice, that butter couldn't melt in her
mouth if it should try. Maybe she's for-
got what slie sprung from, but I knew the
Browns, root aud branch; they alius was a
peekin', rummagiu' set,aud her uncle pecked
into a money drawer once. She comes hon-
estly by her suoopiu' that fouud the will."

Mrs. VN'alter Scott had borne a great deal
of abude from Hester, aud borne it quietly,
after her appeal to Frank, but now she could
keep still no longer, and she half rose from
Iier chair and exclaimed :

" Silence, old woman, or I will have you
put out of the house, and I hold Frank less
than a mau if he will hear me so abused. I
never found the will. It was Magdnlen Len-
nox who found it, just where you told her it
was when you were crazy."

•' Magdaleu found it and brought it to
you iusteail of burning it up I" old Hester
exclaimed, raising her hands in astonishment
and feeling her blood grow hot against the
poor girl. *' Magdalen found it, after all he
has done for her? She's a v</>er then; and
my curse be — "

She did not fmish the sentence, for both

Roger and Frank laid a bund upon her mouth
and stopped the harsh M'ords she would have
spoken.

" You don't know tho circuniKtances. Vou
shall not apeak so of M;vgdaleii," Roger said;
while Frank, glad of a chaiiuc to pnive tliat
he was a man even if he had allowed his
mother to be abused, said Htt-rnly : " Mrs.
Floy<l, 1 have stood quietly by and li<!aril my
mother insulted, but when you attack Mag-
dalen I can keep still no longtr. ,S/if must
not be slandered in my presence. I hope she
will be my wife. "

Heater gave a violent sturt, and a sudden
gleam of intelligence came into her eyes, as
she replied, "Oh, 1 see now. She wasn't
content to have you alone, and I don't blame
her for that. It would be a sickening ))ill to
swaller, you and that woman too, but she
must take advantage of my crazy talk, and
Hnd the vrill which makes her lover a
nabob. That's what I call gratitude to me
and Ivoger, for all we've done for her.
Much good may her money and lover do
her 1"

Thvis speaking, Hester rose from her chair
and vent toward Roger, who had sat rigid as
a s'^one while she put into wor<ls what, as
the shadow of a thought, he had tried so
\iCkrd to tight down.

'* I'm done now," she said, I've told all I
know about tho will. I hid it, Aleck and
me, and ain't sorry neither, and I'm ready to
go to jail any minit the new lords see lit to
send me."

She started for the door, but came back
again to lioger, and, laying her hand on his
hair, said soothingly, and in a very ditFereut
tone from the one she had assumed when ad-
dressing Frank or His mother: " Don't take
it so hard, my boy. We'll git along somehow.
I ain't so very old. There's a good deal of
vim in me yet, and me and Aleck will work
likedogs for you. We'll sell the tavern stand,
and you shall have the hull it fetches.
Your father give us the money to buy it, you
know."

lioger could not fail to be touched by this
generous unselfishness, and he grasped the
hard- wrinkled hand, and tried to smile, as
he said : " Thank you, Hester, I knew you
would not desert me ; but I shall not need
your little fortunt. I can work for us
all."

It was growing dark by this time, and the
bell had thrice sent forth its summcms to
dinner. As Koger Hnished speaking, it rang
again, and glad of an excuse to get awaj', old
Hester said, "What do they mean by keep-
in' that bell a-dingin' when they might
know we'd something on hand of more ac-
count than victuals and drink ? I'll go and
see to't myself,"

ROGER IRVING'S WARD.

louth
have

You

Hivid;
:> that
i;i\ his
' Mm.
iTd my

Mag-

'. IllUBt

Ltpe alio

Budclen
yes, aa
I wasn't
t blame
^ ]iiU to
hut she
ilk, and
lover a
e to me
for ber.
lover do

her chair

t rigid aa

what, aa

tried ao

told all 1

ik.luck and

ready to

HCB lit to

ame back
>.\ on his

(litrereut
wlien ad-
)ou't taice
somehow.
,1 deal of

ivill work
jrn stand,

t t'otohea.

uy it, you

.,1 by this

[txsped the

smile, aa

iuew you

not need

Irk for U3

_, and the
Iminona to
\g, it rang
[away, old
Iby keep-
Ley might
1 more ac-
['U go and

She liiirriud out into the hall, and Frank
•liut the door after her, and then oame back
to the table, and began to urge upon Koger
a portion, at leaHt, of the
which a few hourn before
to be all hia own. But

the acueptanee of
immeiiHe fortune
he had believed
Ro^cr BtoppcMl iiini short.

" l)on't," Frank," he said. " I know you
and, pcrhapfi, would mean it
HO long an that olauHC atands
I can take nothing from the

mean it now,
alwayn, but
ngaiuHt mo,
Irvin^a. "

He pointed tn the worda "The boy known
as Roger Lennox Irving," and Frank re-
joined, " It was a cruel thing for him to
do."

•' Yes ; but a far wickeder, crueller thing,
to poison his ntind with slanders until he
dill it," llogor replied, aa he turned to his
Bister, and said, " Helen I hold you guilty of
my ruin, if what Heater haa told ua ne true;
but I shall not reproach you ; I will lot your
own conscieiu'o do that."

Mrs. Irving tried to say that Hester had
apoken falsely, that ahe had never worked
upon the weak old man's jealousy of hia
young wife ; but she could not fjuite ntter ao
glaring a falsehood, knowing or believing,
as she <lid, that Magdalen had the letter
which might refute her lie. So ahe assumed
an air of lofty dignity, and answered back
that it was unnecessary to continue the con-
versation, which had been more personal
than the (luestiona involved required, —
neither was it needful to prolong the inter*
view. The matter of the will waa now
between him and Frank, and with his per-
mission she would withdraw. Roger simply
inclined his head, to indicate hia willingneas
for her to leave, and, with a haughty bow,
she awept from the room, aignalling Frank to
follow. But Frank did not heed her. He
tarried for a few moments, standing close to
Roger, and mechanically toying with the
pena and pencils upon the table. He did
not feel at all comfortable, nor like a man
who had sudilenly became possessed of hun-
dreds of thousands. He felt rather like a
thief, or, at best, an usurper of another's
rights, and would have been glad at that
moment that the will had been lying in its
box under the Hoor, where it had lainso many
years. Roger was the first to apeak.

"Go, Frank," he said, "leave me alone
for to-night. It is better so. I know what
you want to say, but it can do no good.
Things are as they are, and we cannot change
them. I do not blame you. Don't think I do.
I always liked you, Frank, always, since we
were boys together, and I like you atill ; but
leave me now. I cannot bear any more. "

Roger's voice trembled, and Frank could
see through the fast gathering darkness how

white hia faoe WM and how ho wip^sd the
aweat-dro[)a from hia forehoa<l and lips, and
wringing liia hand nervouHly, ho, too, went
away, ami Roger waa alone.

CHAPTER XXV.

MAUDALKM AND ROUKR.

Magdalen had waited for Frank until ahe
grew so nervous and restless that she crept
Ijuck to her couch, and, wrapping her ahawl
about her, lay down among the pillowH, atill
listening for Frank'a footatopa an I wondering
that he did not come. She had made ui> her
minil at last. She would endure any pain or
toil or privation for him, but she could not
sin for him. She could not swear to love
and honour one, when her whole being waa
bound up in another. She could not marry
Frank, but ahe hoped she might persuade
him to let Roger keep Millhaiik, whilo he
took the mill and the ahoo-shop, and th«
bonds and mortgagoa. Ho would surely
listen to that proposition, and she hatl sent
for him to hear her decision, and then next
day to take the will from its hiding place,
and carry it to Roger, with the letter she
guarded ao carefully. This was her decision,
and ahe waited for Frank until two hours
were gone, and the spring twilight began to
creep into the room, and still no ono came
near her. She heard the dinner bell, and
knew it was not answered, and then, as the
minutes wentby.shebecameconscious of some
unuaual stir in the houao among the aervants,
and grasping the bell-rope at fast, she rang
for Celine, and asked where Mrs. Irving waa.

" In the library, with Mr. Irving and Mr.
Frank and Hester. They are talking very
loud, and don't pay any attention to the
dinner-bell," was Celine'a reply, and Mag-
dalen felt as if she was going to faint with
the terrible apprehension of evil which swept
over her.

"That will do. You may go," she said
to Celine ; and then, the moment the girl
was gone ahe rose from the couch, and knot-
ting the heavy cord around her dressing
gown, and adjusting her shawl, went steal-
thily out intothe hall, and stealing softly down
the stairs, soon stood near the door of the
library.

It waa closed, but Heater's loud tones
reached her aa ahe talked of the will, and
with a shudder she turned away, whispering
to hsrself :

" Too late I He'll never believe mo now."

Then a thought of Aleck crossed her mind.
She did not think he waa in the library ;
p#esibly he waa in Hester's room ; at all
events she would go there, and wait for
Hester's return. An outside door stood open

MILLBANK ; OR,

M vho pasNed throuj^h the rear hall which led
tu Heater'a room, aittl she fult the chili night
air blow on her, ami shivered with the cold.
Jiut rIiu did not think of danuer to hemvlf
from the cxi^tiure. She only tlioUKht of Ko-
ger and what wan tranipiriDg in thu lil)rary,
and nhe entered lit'ster'a room iiurriudly,
and uttered a cry when she saw Aleck there.
Ho wua not smokinj; now. He was aittini/
bowed over the hearth, evidently wrapped
in thouglit, and he g-ive a violent sturt when
Miigdalen seizcMl his arm, and aakcd him
what had happened.

He lieard her, though she spoke in a whis-
per, and turning his eyes slowly toward her,
repliot'

"Somebody has found the will, and Ro-
ger is a l)eggar. "

" Oh, Aleck, I wish I was dead," Magda-
len exclaimed, and then sank down upon thu
floor at the old man's feet, sobbing in a pi-
teous kind of way, and trying to explain how
•he had found it Hrst, and how she would
give her life if she had never doce so.

In the midst of her story Heater caino in,
and Magdalen sprang up and started toward
her, but something in the expression of the
old woman's face stopped her suddenly, and
grasping the back of a chair, she stood
speecliless, while Hester gave vent to a tirade
of abuae, accusing her of ruining Roger,
taunting her with vile ingratitude, and bid-
ding her take herself and her lover back to
where she came from, if that spot could be
found.

Perfectly wild with excitement, Magdalen
made no effort to explain, but darted past
liester out into the hall, where tlie first per-
son she encountered was Frank, who chanced
tc be passing that way. She did not try to
avoid him ; she was too faint and dizzy for
that ; and when asked what was the matter,
and where she was going, she answered :

"To my room. Oh, help me, please, or I
shall never reach it."

He wound his arm around her, and lean-
ing heavily upon him she went slowly down
the hall, followed by Hester Floyd, who
was watching her movements. Not a
word was spoken of the will until the cham-
ber was reached ; then, as Frank parted
from her, he said :

" I think you know that Roger has the
will ; but I did not give it to him. I would
have kept it from him, if possible, and it
shall make no diti'ereuce if I can help it."

He held her hand a moment ; then sud-
denly stooped and kissed her fo''ehead before
she could prevent the act, and walked rapid-
ly away, leaving her flushed and indignant
and half tainting, as she crept back to the
couch. No one came near her to light her
lamp. No one remembered to bring her

fooil or drink. Krerybody appeareil to have
forgotten and forsaken her, butsliu preferred
to he alone, and lay there in the darkness
until Celine came in to ask what she would
have.

" Nothing, only light the lamp, pleaae,"
was her reply.

Then, alter a moment, she asked :

" Are the family at dinner ? "

" Yes ; that in, Mn. Irving and Mr.
Frank. Mr. Irving is in thu lii>rary alone,"
(Joline said.

And thbii Magdalen sat up and asked the
|{irl to gather up her hair duucntly, and give
It a brush or two, and bring her a clean col-
lar, and her other shawl.

Magdalen wan going to the library to
see Roger, who sat jutt whuru Frank had
left him, with his h>!ad bowed upon the
fatal paper which had done him ho much
liarm. The blow had fallen so suddenly,
and in so aggravating a form, that it had
stunned him in part, and he could not real-
ize the full extent of his calamity. One
fact, however, stood out distinctly before
his mind, *' Magdalen was lont for ever !"
Frank had said openly that she was to be
his wife ! She h«tl come to adciision. She
would be the mistress of Millbank, without
a duul)t. Bat he who had once hoped to
make her that himself, would bo far away
— a poor, unknown man — earning hia bread
by tne sweat of his brow. Rogor did not
care for that contingency. Ho was willing
to work ; but he felt how much easier toil
would be if it was for Magdalen's sake
that he grew tired and worn. He was think-
ing of all this when Magdalen came to hia
door, knocking so softly that he did not
hear at first ; then, when the knock was re-
peated, he made no answer to it, for he
would rather be left alone. Ordinarily,
Magdaijn wouM have turned back without
venturing to enter ; but she was desperate
now. She must see lioger that night, and she
resolutely turned the door-knob and went
into his presence.

Roger lifted up his head as she came in,
and then sprang to Ids feet, st irtled by her
white face and the change in lier appearance
since he saw her last. Then she liad b ;ood
before him in the hall, winding the scarf
around his neck, her face glowing with health
and happiness and girlish beauty, and her
eyes shining upon him like star". They
were rery bright now, unnaturally so he
thought, and there -vas a glitter in them
that reminded him of the woman in the cars
who had left her baby with him.

" Magdalen," he said, as he went forward
to meet her. " I did not think you had been
so sick as your looks indicate. Let me lead
you to the sofa."

w
w

ni
li

an
mi

»n

for
at<
Wc
des

•s

hau

own

broi

mad

fore
<<

did
with
you
coint
felt (
my h
He
done
liandj
Was t
thing
made
her fii
iier, ai

den,",
you k
"I
and y
hrititly
Atance
much
cause s
law.

Befor
his fa
from he
knew it
offer to (
^vhen M

ROGER IIIVING'S WARD.

?•

have
urroil
knesH

Uone,"

.0(1 the
III «ivo

3UU col-

rary to

Ilk had

lou the

o much

id.lonly,

t it hA<l

not real-

y. One

V before

(r ever l

/aa to be

itm. She

, without

hopeil to
far away

[hia bread

,r did i»ot

|a9 willing
iasier toil
u'a sake
,a9 think-
.me to his
[e did not
•k was re-
it, for he
irdinarily,
without
desperate
,t, and she
and went

came in,
led by her
Ippeiirance
1 liad 8 iood
[the scarf
Irith health
', and her
.. They
illy so he
ill them
[u the cars

it forward
^ had been
it me lead

lie laid hi* hand on her shouldur, but she
nliixik it (itV Atid sank into a oliair oluao bi>-
hide tlie onu hu had vacated.

"l>un't touch me yet, Roger, oh Ruger,"
ihu be>{an, and Uouer'a heart ((Mve a Kreat
leap, for n«ver beltire ha<l she caUed twin
tliUH to hia face. " Kxouse me for coming
here to-niglit. I know it is not naidenly,
porliapM, but I mum see you, and ttdl yru it
was uU a horrible nuHtttke. I did not know
Mhat I was doing. Hester talked so much
about that loose board in the garret and
aoniething hidden under it, that once, a
week ago or aiore, it seems a year to me, I
'wentuit to shut a window ; my curiosity led
nie to look under the Hoor, and I found it,
Roger, and read it through, and Frank came
and surprised me, and thett the secrdt was
mine no longer, and I — oh, Mr. Irving, I
wanted to keep it from you, till— till — I can-
not ex|)luin the whole, and I don't know at
all how it came into yuur hands, (.'an yim
forgive me, Roger? I could have burneil it
at once or had it burned, but I dared nut.
Would you have liked me better if 1 had
destroyed it 7 '

She stopped speaking now, and held her
hands toward Roger, who took them in his
own and pressed them with a fervour whicli
brought the bloo<l buck to her cheeks and
made her very beautiful »s she sat there be-
fore him.

" No, Magda," ho sai'l, ** I am glad you
did not destroy it. 1 would rather meet
with poverty in its direut form than know
you had done that thing ; fur it would have
come to light some time, and I should have
felt that in more ways than one I had lost
my little girl "

He was speaking to her now as he had
done when she was a child, and one of his
hands wa^ smoothing her soft hair ; but he
was thinking of Frank, and there was no-
thing of the lover in his careeu, though it
made Mag«lalen's blood throb and tingle to
her tinger tips, for she knew he did not hate
her, as she had feared he might.

" 'rh« will should never have been hid-
den," hb , lid. " Hester did very wrong, ho
you know the particulars ?"

" I know nothing except that I found it
and you ha o it," Magdalen replied, an<l
brietly as possible Roger told her the sub-
stance of Heater's story, smoothing over as
much a) possible Mrs. Irving's guilt, lie-
cause she was to be Magdalen's mother-in-
law.

Before he spoke of the letter left by
his father, Magdalen had taken it
from her poeket and held it in her hand. He
knew it was the missing letter, but did not
offer to take it until his recital was ended,
when Magdalen held it to him, and said.

" Tliia ia the letter ; it was in tlie box, and
I kept it to give to you myself iii case you
Htiould ever i.uow of the will. I hi.vu no'
read it. Von do not believe I wiuld .ead
ii," aho addeii 111 some alunn, as sae auw a
(jueatiouiiig look in his taou.

Whatever he nnglit hiive i<u<4peoted, he
knew l>etter now, and he made her lie down
upon the sofa, aud arraiig'td the cushions fi r
her head, aud tlitii, standing with iiis buck
to her, opened the letter, ainl read tliu'i mes-
aage from the <1ead. As he read, he grew
hard aud bitter toward the niun who touhl
be BO easily swaged by a lying, doeittu!
woman. Hu knew Magdalen was Whtching
him, aud probably wondeiing what ^- a» in
the letter, ami knew, too, that sheioald not
fully believe in his inothur's innocence with-
out moie proof than his mere assertion. Uf
all the people livinig he would rather Magda-
len uhould think well oi his mother, and
after a moment's hesitancy he turned to her,
and said :

" 1 wa-at you to see this, Magda. I want
you to know why 1 was disinherited, and
tlieii you must read my poor mother's letter,
and judge yourself if she was guilty."

Ho turned the key in the door, so as not to
be i'lterrupted, and then cuine back to Mag-
dalen, who had ri.>ten to a sitting pasture,
aud who took the letter from his hand while
he adjusted the shade so that the glare of
the lamp would not shine directly in her »'y«a
aa she read it.

CHAPrER XX. VI.

8Q0IRK IRVINO'S LKTIEK.

It was dated the very night preceding the
mornmg when Squire Irving had been tuund
dead by Aleck i^'ioyd, aud it commenced
much like the one winch Roger ii<id guarded
so religiously as his father's last message to
him :

" MiLMJANK, Ap.il-.
*• My Duak Boy, -For numy daya 1 have been
haunted with a prcoeiiliiucu'. that 1 huve nul
much longer tu live. My heuir'j buUly dist-us
ed. and 1 may drop awuy any niuuiie, ait'l aa
deatii beKins to stare me in thfi lace, .uv 'liuughts
turn toward you, Iti > Ou.v i^ i.i-';- i auve beea tut
proud ut and loved i4v nine}/. You don't reniein-
bcr your motlier, lt't,<);r, uud you 'i u.'i know
JiOKf 1 loved lier, hIu; wut; ao bfaiitii^ una un-
less, und seemed tn iunoceut, Willi '■ ,- U'uceyes
and Kolden hair. .le. haiiie v<^.ti i nmg ihe
New ilauipsldit iiil .1, a quane. of u nie or to
I'roui the little i'lj'iii towii of rtoiiou.i-JK, wliobe
deli.iifUtful scenery .-uid pure iiictiutuii^ air yeui's
ago ultriicted visiior-i lUer«; 'iuring ino suiiinier
months, iier tai nci wa^ ji. ur uiid old and iii-
Uvm, and hia tana \s i^.s uiurlK'.iged I'li: more th iii
ii was worth, aud tljv^ .nortgagi! was iibout to be
foreclosed, N>neii, by ciiuiice, 1 l.ecame an in-
mate tor a few wueicy of the tarnihoiibe. 1 was
stopping la tichodicik, the hotel Waa lull, aud i

MILLBANK ; OR,

j'A'

boarded willi Je.Hsiu's fathnr. Ho had taken
boankTd Uciov--, duo a yoniij? ,n%n, Arthur
Grey, afubi, f.whioiiiibk', t'as(;inating man, who
made love to .Iohhu- u more child of sixteen.
Her letter, \> hicli 1 e .elose, will toll you the par-
tioular.sof licr i;ctiuaiiilanee witli hini, so it is
not iieeiltiil llial 1 «o over Uii'.m. I knew
uotliinK of Arthur Orcy at the time 1 was at the
farniliDU.se, excei)t that I sometimes heard hiiii
menlioacdas a reckless, daahiiig young mun. I
waa there during ilie monllis of Augustaiul
Sepli;iiiher. I had an attack of heart d seai-c,
and Jessie 'in'.-,ed me through it, her soft hands
and gei'lie ways ..id deep blue eyes weavi.ig
urount'. nil! a.-pli I could not break. She wus
poor. :ml a lady every whit, and I loved her bet-
ter than [ hail e'lr loved any human being be-
fore, and 1 wanted h<;r for my wile. As I have
8ai(i, her lallier wan old and poor, and the farm
was niorigagi'd to a ''emorsclcss creditor. They
would be hoinel<':-'s when it was sold, and so I
f^'juf//*^ Jea>ie. aii<l her father kept his home. 1
know now I,, al it \ 'as a great mistake ; know
wliy Ji'asie fainU'd when the plan was first pro-
posed t(j her; but I did not suspect it then. Her
f.itlu'r said r-he v.asiu the habit of fainting, and
irieil to make light of it. llo was anxious fur
the lUiiieh. and shut iiii eyes to hia daughter's
aversiiiii 'o il.

•• 1 brouiilit her to ?,Iillbank in Dccember.and
within the year you were born. 1 heard nothing
of Arthur IJrey; 1 oidy knew ihat Jessie was not
happv ; salins iuul pi' ills and diamonds could
not (t.ive tliat sad, hungry look from her eyes,
and I took her fur a eliange to Saratoga, and
there she mi t the villain again, and as the result
&hc left Miilbauk to go wiih him to Kurope. In
u few days she was drowned, and hiu- letter
written on the ' Hea Gull' was sent to 7ne by
that accuisfd man who, wh n she:lried to eseapo
him, folluwuil her to the ship bound for Charles-
ion. I beleve that pait, and a doubt of your
legitimacy never entered my heart until Walter's
wile put il there. 1 had made my will, and
given nearly all to you, when Helen, who was
here a few months, began one day to talk of
Jessie, very kindly, as I remember, and seemed
trying to llnd excuses for what she called her
Bin, and (hen said she was so glad tnatlhad
alwavs beciikind to the poor innocent boy, who
was not to blame for his mother's error. I came
gradually to understand her, though she said
but little which could be repeated, but 1 knew
that she doubted your legitimacy, and she gave
mo reason to doubr, it too, by hinting that Ar-
thur Gi y had been st en in Helvidere more than
once after Jessie's marriage. Her husband.
Waller, was her informant ; but she had prom-
ised secrecy, as he wished to spare me, and so
sue could not be explicit. But 1 heard enough
to drive me ma<l with jealousy and rage, and I
made another will, and gave you little more
tnan the Morton farm, which, when Jessie's
father u led, as he did the day when you were
born, I bought to please your mother. 1 was
wild with anger wiien I made that will, and my
love foi' you has ever since kept tugging at my
heart, and has prevented mo from destroying
the llrst will, a> I twice nuule up my mind to do.
To-ilay 1 have :-eadyour mother's letter again,
an . I have forgiven Jessie at la t. though
Helen's insinuations still rankle in my mind.
But ; have repented of giving you so little, and
have sent lor young Sehotleld to change my last
will, and make you equal with Frank.

"Perhaps I may never see you again, for
something about my heart warns me ttiat my
days are numbered, and what I do for you must
be done (i.iickly. Heaven forgive me it I wrong-
ed your mm lur, and forgive me doubly, trebly,
if in vvroiiging her I have dealt cruelly, unn:itu-

r .lly by you, my darling, my pride, my boy,
whom I love so much in >.pite of everything ; for
I do, Roger, T certainly ,lo, and I feel even now
if you were here beside me, the sight of j'our
dear face would tempt me to burn the later will
and reaeknowledge the first.

" Heaven bless you, Iloger. Heaven give you
every possible good which yo\i may crave, and
if in the course of your life there is one thing
more thiin another which sou desire, I pray
Heaven to give it to you. I wish .^'ehotleld was
hero now. There is a dreadful feeling in my
head, a cold, prickling sensation in my arm-i.
and I must stop, while I hdve power to sign
myself,

" Yours lovingly and afTectlonatelj-,

" WlI>LIAM 11. Ikving."

This was the letter, and tl'e old man
must liave been battling with death aa he
wrote it, and with the tracinj^ of Roger's
name the pen must hive dropped from
his nerveless fingers, and his spirit taken
its flight to the world where pocn-, wronged
Jessie had gone before him. The fact that
she was innocent did not prevent iier child
from receiving the punishment of her seem-
ing guilt, and at first every word of hia
father's letter had been like so many stabs,
making; his pain harder than ever to bejii".
Magdalen compreliended it in full, and pitied
him now more than she had before.

" Oh, I am so sorry for you, Mr. Irving ;
sorrier than I was about the will," she said,
moving a little nearer to him.

He looked quickly at her, and guessing of
what he was thinking, she rejoineil :

" Don't imagine for a moment that I dis-
trust your mother. I know she was inno-
ci n'^,and I hate the woman who breathed the
vile slander against her."

" Hush, Magda, that woman is Frank's
mother," Roger said, gently, and Magdalen
leplieil :

" I know she is, and your sister-in-law.
I did not think of the relationship when I
spoke, or suppose you would care."

She either did not or ivould not understand
him, and she went on to speak of Jessie and
the man who had been her luiu.

"G"cy," she repeated, "Arthur Grey !
It surely cannot be Alice's father ?"

Roger did not know. Ho had never
thought of that. ■" I never saw hira," he
said, "and never wish to see him or his.
I louJd not treat him civilly. 'Ihere is more
about him here in mother's letter. She
loved hira with a woman's strange
infatuation, and her love gives a
soft colouring to what she has written. I
have never shown it to a human being, but
I want you to read it, Magda, or rather let
me read it to you."

He was not angry with her, Magdalen
knew, and she felt ao if a great burden had
been lifted fr n her as she listened to the
letter written thirty years before.

•V

boy,
;f(jr
now
vour
•'will

e you
, and
thing
pruy
I was
lu my
arnn.
oaigii

>-a.

I man

as he

Loner's

trom
taken
rongetl
b that
• child
r seem-
o£ his

stabs,
o bear,
d pitied

Irving ;
she said,

ssing

ROGER IRVING'S WARD.

Lt I dis-
v& iuno-
thed the

Frank's
[agdalen

-in-law.
when I

ll erst and
Issie and

Grey !

|l never

lira," he

or his.

i3 more

jr. She

strange

lives a

Itten. I

l»t'

but

ther let

Lagdalen
[lea had
to the

CHAPTER XXVII.

jkssik's LErrEU.

It was dated on board the " Sea Gull," and
began as follows :

•• My HrsuAND : — It would be mockery for
me to put the word dear before your hcuour-
ed name. You would not believe I meant
it when I have sinned against you so deeply
and v\i»unded your pride so sorely. But oh,
if you knew all which led me to what I am,
you would pity me even if you condemned,
lor you were always kind, too kind by far tc
a wicked girl like me. But I am not so bad
as you imagine. I have left you, I know,
and left my darling I ^y, and he is here with
me, but by no consent of mine. I am not
going to Europe, I am going to Charleston,
wiiere Lucy is, and shall mail this letter
from there. Every word I write will be
true, and you must believe it and teach
Roger to l)elieve it, too, for I have not sinned
a»you suppose, and Rotter need not blush
for his mother except that she deserted him.
I am writing this c^uite as much for him as
for you, for I want him to know something
of his mother as she was years ago,
when she lived among the Schodick
hills, in the dear old house which I
have dreamed about so often, and
which even here on the sea comes up so
vividly before me, with the orchard where
the mountain shadows fell so early in the
afternoon, and the meadows where the but-
tercups and clover-blossoms grew. Oh, I
grow sick, and faint, and diszy when I
think of those happy days and contrast my-
self as I was then with myself as I am now.
I was so happy, though I knew what pover-
ty meant ; but that did not matter. Chil-
dren, if surrounded by loving frionds, do not
mind being poor, and I did not mind it
either until I grew old enough to see how it
troubled my father. My mother, as you
know, died before I could remember
her ; and my aunt Mary, my father's only
sister, and cousin Lucy s mother, took her
place <\nd cared for me.

" The bummer before you ca-ne to us, I
met Arthur Grey. Fe was among the
visiters who boarded at the hotel. He was
said to be very rich, very aristocratic, very
fastidious. You never saw him, and cannot
understand the strange fascination there was
about him, or how his manner, when he
chose to be gracious, was calculated to win
upon a simiile girl like me. I met him, and
ere I was aware of it he taught me how to
love him. He became an inmate of our
house at last, and thus our growing fondness
for each other was hidden from tlie public,
which would have said that I was no match
for him. I know that he loved me. I

never doubted that for a moment. De-
ception can assume many garbs,but never the
guise he wore when he won my girlish love.
He asked me to be his wife one autumn night,
when the Indian summer liaze was on tlie
hills, and the mountain tops were gorgeous
with scarlet and gold. I had never dreamed
that a human being could be as happy as I
was when, with him at my <:ide, 1 walked
back across the fields to our home. The
very air around seemed full of the ecstatic joy
I felt as I thought of a life spent with him.
He wished me to keep our betrothal a secret
for a time, he said, as he did not care to
have his mother and sisters know of it just
then. They were at the hotel for a few
weeks, and I used to see them at church ;
and their c(d<l, haughty manner imjjressed
me disagreeably, just as it did every one
who came in contact with them. I should
not live with them, Arthur said, I should
have a home of my own on tlie Hudson. He
had just bought a residence there, and he
described it to me until I knew evt-ry tree,
and shrub, and winding walk upon the place.

" Then he went away, and the dreary
winter came, and his letters, so frequent at
first, began to come irregularly, but were
always lo/ing and tender, and full of ex-
cuses for the long delay. Or. ce I lieard of
fierce opposition from his mother and sister,
and a desire on their part to persuade him
into a more brilliant marriage. But I trust-
ed him fully until the spring, when, after
a longer interval of silence than usual, there
came a letter from his mother, who wrote at
her son's request, as he was ill and unable to
write himself. I was still very dear to him,
she said, but considering all things he Umu^ht
it better for us both that the engagement
should be broken. I had b»on brought up
so differently, that he did not V/elieve I
would ever be happy in the society in which
he moved, and it vas really doing me a
kindness to leave me where I was ; still, if I
insisted, he was in honour bound to adhere
to his promise, and should do so,

" I pass over the pain, and bitter disap-
pointment, and dreadful days, when, in tlin
shadow of the woods where I had vvalkeil so
often with him, I laid my face in the grass
and wished that I couM die. I did not
write him a word, but I sent him back his
letters, and the ring, and every momento of
those blissful hours ; and the few who knew
of my engagement gvesseil that it was
broken, and said it had ended as they ex-
pected.

"Then you came, just when my heart was
so sore, and you were kind to father, and
sought me of him for your wife, and he
begged me to consider your propo.sal, and
save him his home for his old age. Then I

h i\

I ,

■i

MILLBANK; OR,

went again into the shadow of those woods,
and crept away behind a rock, under a lux-
uriant pine, and prayed that I might know
what was right for me to do. My father
found me there one daj' and took me home,
and said I need not marry you. He would
rather end his days in the poorhouse than see
me so distressed. But the sight of his dear
old face growing so white, and thin, as the
time for the foreclosure drew near, was more
than I could l)ear, and it mattered little
^what I did in the future ; so I went to you
:and said ' I will be your wife, and do the
'best I can ; but you must be patient with
me. 1 am only a little girl. '

" I ought to have told you of Arthur, but
"I did not, and so trouble came of it. IVe
<were married in the morning, and went to
Boston, and then back for a few days to
Schodick, where there was a letter for me,
from Arthur. It was all a terrible decep-
tion : hd had had a long, long illness,
and his mother — a cruel, artful wo-
man — took advantage of it, and wrote me
that cruel letter. Then, when my package
reached her, and she found there was no
word of protest in it, she gave it to him, and
worked upon him in his weak condition until
he believed me false, and the excitement
'brought on a relapse which lasted longer and
was more dangerous than his first illness
■uOid been. As soon as he was able to hold
\ -8 pen, he wrote to me again ; but his
other managed to withhold the letter, and
the time went on until, by cliance, he dis-
vered the deception, but it was too late.
J VMS your wife, I am our wife now, and
I must not tell you of that terrible hour
c anguish in my room at home, when cou?in
I ucy, who was then at our house, found me
^ aint'ng on the floor with the letter in my
hand. 1 told her everything, for we were to
each other as sisters ; but with that excep-
tion, no living being has ever heard my
Btory. I asked her to send him a paper con-
taining the notice of my marriage, and that
was all the answer 1 returned to his letter.

" Then you took me to Millbank. and I
tried to do my duty, even though my heart
was broken. After Roger came, I was hap-
pier, and I appreciated all your kindness, and
the pain was not so hard to bear, till we
went to Saratoga that summer, where I met
1dm again.

'* He loved me still, and we talked it over
together, sometimes when you were sleeping
after dinner, and nii^hts when you M'cre
playing billiards. There is so much of that
kind of thing at Saratoga that one's sense of
right and wrong is easily blunted there, and
• I was so young ; still this is no excuse. I
ought not to have listened for a momentj
especially after he began to talk of Italy and

a cottage by the sea, where no one would
know us. I was his in the sight of Heaven,
he said. I was committing sin by living
with you. I was more his wife than yours,
and he made me believe that if once I left
you a divorce could easily be obtained, and
then there would be nothing in the way of
our marriage. I caught at that idea and
listensd to it, and from that moment my fate
was sealed. But I never contemplated any-
thing but marriage with him, when at last I
consented to leave you. I wanted to take
Roger, and went on my knees to him, beg-
ging that I might have my baby, but he
would not consent. A child would be in the
way, he said, and I must choose between
him and my boy. His influence over me was
so great that I would have walked into the
fire with him then, had he willed it so.

" I left Millbank at night, intending to
meet Arthur in New York, and go at once
to the steamer bound for Liverpool, but on
the way thoughts of my baby sleeping in hTs
crib, with that smile on his lips when I kiss-
ed him las'-, came to save me, and at New
Haven I left the train and took the boat for
New York, and went to another hotel than
the one where he was waiting for me. I
scarcely knew what I meant to do, except to
avoid him, until, as I sat waiting for a room,
I heard some people talking of the ' Sea
Gull,' which was to leave the next day for
Charleston. Then I said, ' Heaven has
opened for me that way of escape. I dare
not go back to Millbank. My husband would
not receive me now. Lucy is in Charleston.
She knows my story. I will go to her,' and
so yesterday, when the 'Sea Gull' dropped
down the harbour, I was in it, and he was
there too ; but 1 did not know it till we had
been hours upon the sea, and it was too late
for me to go back. He had wondered that I
did not come according to appointment, and
was walking down Broadway when he saw
me leave the hotel, and called a carriage at
once and followed me to the boat, guessing
that it was my intention to avoid him. I
have told h'm of my resolve, and when
Charleston is reached we shall part for ever.

" This is the truth, my husband, and I
want you to believe it. I do not ask you to
take me back. You are too proud for that,
and I know it can never be ; but I want you
to think as kindly of me as you can, and
when Tou feel that yon have forgiven me,
.show this letter to Roger, if he is old enough
to understand it. Tell him to forgive me.
and give him this lock of his mothc-r's hair.
Heaven bless and keep my little boy, and
grant that he may be a comfort to you and
grow up a good and noble man. Perhaps I
may see him some time. If not, my blessing
be with him always."

ROGER IRVING'S WARD.

uld
ren,
nu%
urs,

left
and
If of

and

fate
any-
ast 1
take

beg-
t he
n the
;weea
lewaa

the

ng to

once

ut on

in h'ts

1 kiss-
1 New-
oat for
il than
ne. I
:cept to
a room,
e 'Sea
day for
en has

I dare
c\ would
.rleston.
pr,' and
dropped
I he was

we had
[ too late
Id that I
Ipnt, and
[he saw
|r;age at

t-nessiug

[lim. I
when
Ifor ever,
and I
you to
[for that,
vant you
Ian, aud
Iven me,
ll enough
live HiP-
Ii's hair.
loy, and
|you and
urhapa I
blessing

"This is all of mother's letter, but there ^
is a postscript from him. Shall I read that, '
too?" Roger asked, and Magdalen said,
" yes ;" and then, as he held the letter near
to her, she saw the Iwld, masculine hand- i
writing of Arthur Grey, who had written • \

"Sqoirk Irving— Dear SiH-It beconesmy 1
painful duty to iiifonn you that not lotiK after [
the iiicloHod .'ette'* from your wife was liiiiuhed, '■
a tire brol^e out and Riiread so fast that all liope
of escape except by the li e-l)oat8 was cut off. '
Your wife felt from the first a presentiment that '
she should be drowned, and brought the letter
to me, asking that if I escaped, and she did not,
1 woal<i forward it at once to Millbank. I took
the letter and I tr ed to save her, when the sea
inguJphed ua both, but a tremeiidous wavecar-
aiod her beyond my reach, and I saw her golden
hair rise once above the water and then go
•down f rever. I, with a few others, was saved
«,3 by a njiracle— picked up by a vessel bound
for New York, which place I rcacned yesterday. .
I have read Jessie's letter. She told mo to do
BO, and to add my testimony to the truth of
what she had written. Kven if it were not tri' a,
it would be wrong to refuse the request of one
80 lovely and dear to me as Jessie was, and I
accordingly do as she bade mu, and say to you
that she has written you the truth.

"I have the ho our, sir, to be

" Your obedient servant,

"Arthur Grey."

Not a word of excuse for himself, or
regret for the part he had had in eflFecing
poor Jessie's death. He could sea cely
have written less than he did, and the old,
indifferent wording of his message struck
Magdalen just as it did Roger. She had
wept over poor Jessie's story, and pitied the
young, desolate creature who had been so
cruelly wronged. And she had pitied
Arthur Grey at first, and her heart had
gone ou*. after him with a strange, inexplic-
able feeling of sympathy. But when it came
CO Sr.ratoga and Italy, and all the seductive
arts he must have used to tempt Jessie from
her husband and child, and when she heard
the message he had sent to the outraged
husband, her blood boil<^d with indignation,
and she felt that if she were to see him
then, she must curse him to his face. While
Roger had been reading of him, her mind had,
for some cause, gone back co that Saturday
afternoon in the graveyard, when she met
the handsome stranger whose courteous
manners had so fascitiated her, and who had
been so interested in everything pertaining
to the Irving family. Suddenly it came to
her that <Ai5 was ^j'i/iur Orey, and, with a
start, she exclaimed : "I havo seen that
man — I kuow I have. I saw him at your
father's grave years and years ago."

Roger looked inquiringly at her as she ex-
plained the circumstances of her interview
with the stranger, telling of his questions
with regard to Mrs. Irving and his apparent
interest in her, and wheu she had finished

her story, he said : " Is it your impression
that he was ever in Belvidere before ?"

**I know he never was," Magdalen re-
plied. "He told me so himself, and I
shouM have known it without his telling,
U-o seemed so much a stranger to everything
and every'oody."

Roger knew that every word his sister had
breathed against his mother was a lie, but
Magdalen's involuntary testimony helped to
comfort and reassure him as nothing else
had done. The clause which read "the
boy known as Roger Lennox Irving" did
not especially trouble him now, though he
could not then forgive the father who had
wronged him so, and when he thought of
him there came back to his face the same
sad, sorry look it had worn when Magdalen
first came in, and which while talking to her
had gradually passed away. Sne detected
it at once, and connecting it with the will
Biad to him again, " Oh, Mr. Irving, it
would have been better if I had never come
here. I have only brought sorrow and ruin
to you."

'• JSo, Magda," Roger replied. " it would
not have been better if you had never come
here. You have made me ve-y happy, so
happy that—" he could not get any furtb«>\
for something in his throat which prevented
his utterance.

She had brought him sorrow, and yet he
would not for the world have failed of know,
ing how sweet it was to love her even if she
could not be his. If he could have kept her
and taken her with him to his home amon^i;
the hills, he felt that he would hava parted
willingly with his fortune and beaut?ful
MiUbauk. But that could not be. She be.
longed to Frank ; everything was Frank's ;
and for an instant the whole extent of his
calamity swept over him so painfully that he
succumbed to it, and laying his face upon
the table sobbed just as pitifully as he had
done in the first moment of surprise and
pain when he heard that both fortune and
name were gone. Magdalen could not un-
derstaud all the causes of his distress. She
did not dream that every sob and every tear
wrung from the strong man was given more
to her than to the fortune lost, and she tried
to comfort him as best she could, thinking
once to tell him how willingly she would
toil and slave to make his new home attrac-
tive, deeming no self-denial too great if by
its means he could be made bo^pier and more
conafortable. But she did not' dare do this
until she knew whether she was wanted in
that home among the Schodick hills where
he said he was going. Oh, how she wished
he would give some liint that he expected
her to go with him ; but he did not, and he
kept Ilia face hidden so lour that she came At

MILLBANK ; OR,

last to hi3 Bide, and laid her hand on his
shoulder and hent over him with words of
sympathy. Then, as he did not lo:)k up,
she knelt besidtJ him, and her hand found its
way to his, and she called him Roger again,
and begged him not to feel so badly.

"You will drive me mad with remorse,"
she saiil, "for I know I have done it all.
Doa't, Roger, it breaks my heart to see you
so distressed. What can I do to prove how
sorry I am ? Tell me and I will do it, even
to the taking of my life."

It did not seem possible that this girl

E leading thus with him could be another's
etrothed, and for a moment Roger lost all
self-control, and forgetting Frank and his
rights snatched her to his arms, and pressing
her to his bosom rained kids after kiss upon
her forehead and lips. " My darling, my
darling, you have been a blessing and a com-
fort to me all your life, hut there's nothing
you can do for me now. Once I hoped —
oh, Magda, my litUe girl, that time is far in
the past ; I hope for nothing now. I am not
angry with you. I could not be so if I would.
I bless you for all you have been to me. I
hope you will be happy here at Millbank
when I am gone ; and now go, my darling.
You are shivering with cold and the room is
very damp. God bless you, Magda."

He led her out into the hall, then closed
the door upon her, aad went back again to
his solitude and his sorrow, while Magdalen,
bewildered and frightened and wearied out,
found her way as best she could to her own
room, where a few moments later Celine
found her fainting upon the floor.

CHAPTER XXVIII.

THE WORLD AND THE WILL.

The \,'orld, or that portion of it represent-
ed by Bilvidere, did not receiva it kindly,
and when the new heir appeared on the street
on the day succeeding the events narrated in
the last chapter, he was conscious of a certaio
air of constraint and ttiffness about those
■whom he met, and an evident attempt to
avoid him. It was known all over town by
that time, for Roger had made no secret of
the matter, and an hour after Magdalen left
him, he had sent for all the servants, and
tnM them briefly of his changed cond't'''n.
Hi' entered into no particulars ; he ierel>
Ba.id

" Mv '■ '■•her b;^'/ f5t to make a later will
than the ':.e found at the time of his death.
Id t '■■,, s^ivv-' Millbank and all its appur-
i,ea«r<03 to '""rajik, ?,« the chill a his eldest
BiT., ,v' b-oche-- *.Va:'.er. This later will, of
\"b<>sa existCiuM i did not k: ;w, has recent-
ly heei f.MtT^d, and by virtue <•' it everything
oea tv^ "-ai)-:, vi o i^ the rightful owner of

Millbank, or will be when the will is •_:)roved.
You have served me faithfully, some of you
for years, and I shall never forget your un-
varying kindness and fldelity. The amount
of wages due each of you I shall venture to
pay from money kept for that puipose. My
nephew will allow me to do that, and then,
so far as I am concerned, you are at liberty
to seek new situations. Our relations as em-
ployer and servant are at an end. I do not
wish you to talk about it, or to express your
sympathy for me. I could not bear it now,
so please do not trouble me."

This last he said because, of the murmur of
discontent and surprise and dissatis action
which ran through the room when those as-
sembled flrst learned that they must part
with the master whom they loved aud re-
spected so long.

" VVe will not leave you, Mr. Irving. We
will go where you go. We will work for you
for less wages than for anybody e'se," was
what the house servants said to him, aud
what many of his factory and shop hands said
when next day he met them in front of the
huge mill where they were congregated.

He had told his servants not to talk of hia
afl'airs, but they did not heed him ; while
Hester P'loyd, whom no oi.e could control,
discussed th*- ...atter freely, so bhat by noon
the little town was rife with rumours of
every kind, and knots of people gathered at
the corners of the street, while in front of
the cotton mill a vast concourse had assem-
bled even before the bell rant;; for twelve,and
instead of going home to the dinner they
would hardly have found prepared that day,
they stood talking if the strange news,
which had come to them in so many diH'ereut
forms. That there bad been some undue in-
fluence brought to bear upon Squire Irving,
they knew ; and that the mother of the new
heir was the guilty party who had slandered
the squire's unfortunate young wife, they
also kuew ; and many and loud were their
imprecations against the woman whose proud,
haughty bearing htid never impressed them
I'av lurably, and whom they now disliked
with all the unrestrained bitternesp jommon
to t iv'ir class.

A. 1 had heard of Jessie Irving, and a few
remambered her as she was when she first
zj,iae among them, in her bright, girlish
beauty, with those great, sad blue eyes,
which always smiled kindly upon her hus-
band's employees when she met with them.
As people will do, they had repeated her
story "^any times, and the mothers had
blamed :er sorely for deserting her child,
while a few envious ones, when speaking of
"the grand doings at Millbank," had hinted
that the original stock was " no better than

us.

ROGER IRVING'S WARD.

Dved.
' you
ir un-
lount
ire to
My
then,
iberty
18 em-
io not
s your
b now,

mur of
actiou
ose as-
it part
*ad le-

?. We

for you

3," was

m, and

lids said

t of the

id.

k of his

; while

control,

by noon

loiirs of

hered at

front of
assem-
ve.and
er they

hat day,
news,
itfereut
ndue in-
Irviog,
the new
andered
6, they
e their
e proud,
ed them
disliked
ommon

nd a few
she first
girlish
Lie eyes,
her hus-
th them,
lated her
ers had
ir child,
aking of
,d hinted
ter thaa

it should be," and that the Irving name was
8taiue<l like many others.

But this was all forgotten now. Jessie
Irving was declared a saint, and an angel,
and a martyr, while nothing wia too severe
to say against the woman who bad maligned
her, and influenced the jealous old squire to
do a thing which would deprive the working
classes in Belvidere of the kindest, most con-
siderate, and liberal of masters. The factory
hands could 7wt work after they heard of it,
and cue by one they stole out upon the green
in front of the large manufactory, where
they were joined by other hands from the
shoe shop, until the square was full of excited
men and buys, and girls, the murmur of their
voices swelling louder and louder as, encou-
raged by each other, they grew more and
more indignant towards the " new lords," as
they called Frank and hi:; mother, and more
enthusiastic in their praises of Roger.

One of their number proposed sending for
'lim to come himself and tell them if what
they had heard was true, and to hear their
protest against it ; and three of the more

Eromineut men were deputed to wait upon
im.

There was no mistaking the genuine con-
cern, and sympathy, and sorrow written on
their faces, when Roger went out to meet
themj and the sight of them nearly unman-
ned him again. He h<id been very calm all
the moruiug ; had breakfasted with his sister
and Frank, as usual ; had said to tiie latter
that it would be well enough to send
for Lawyer Schofield, who was not
now a resident of Belvidere, but was practis-
ing in Springfield ; and had tried to
quie^- old Hester, who was giving loose
rein to her tongue, and holding herself
loftily above the " pertenders," as she called
them. He had also remembered Magdalen,
and sent her a bouquet of flowers by Celine,
who represented her as feverish and nervous,
and too tired to leave her bed. Roger did
not gather from Celine's report that she was
very ill, only tired and worn ; so he felt no
particular anxiety for her, and devoted him-
self to standing between and keeping within
bounds the other members of his household,
and in so doing felt a tolerable degree of
quiet, uuuil the men came up from the mill,
when the sight of their faces, so full of pity,
and the warm grasp of their friendly hands,
brought a sudden rush of tears to his eyes,
and his chin quivered a little when he first
spoke to them.

'* We've heard about it, Mr. Irving," the
speaker said, " and we don't like it, any of
us, and we hope it is not true, and we are
sent by the others who are down on the
green, and who want you to come and tell
us if it is true, and what we are to do."

Mrs. Walter Scott, sitting by the chamber
window, saw the three men walk down the
avenue, with Roger in their midst, and saw,
too, in the distance the crowd congregated
in front of the mill, and felt for a nionient a
thrill of fear as she began to realize, more
and more, what taking Millbank from
Roger meant. She would have felt still
more uneasy could she have seen the faces of
the crowd, and their eagej- rush for Roger
when he appeared.

The women and the young girls were the
first to pounce upon him, and were the most
voluable in their words of sorrow, and sur-

Erise, and indignation, while the men and
oys were not far behind.
Bewildered and too much overcome at first
to speak, Roger stood like some father in
the midst of his ;hildren, from whom he is
soon to be separated. He had been absent
from them for years, but his kindness and
generosity had reached •■ hem across the sea.
They had lighter tasks, and higher wages,
and more holidays, a'-d forbearance, and
patience than any class of work n) en for
miles and miles around, and they knew it
all came from Roger's generosity, and the
exceeding great kindness of his heart, and
they were grateful for it.

A few, ot course, had taken advantage of
his goodness, and loitered, and idled, and
complained of their hard lot, and talked as
if to work at all were a great favour to their
employer. Bat the majority had appreciat-
ed him to the full, and given him back
measure for laeasurs, working for his inte-
rest, and serving him so faithfully, thet few
manufactories were so prosperous or yielded
so large an income as those in Belvidere.
And now these workmen stood around their
late mast"-, v h their Bad faces upturned,
it he had to bay.
J," he saiu. " There was
iiade by my father a tew
.le died."
groans for Squire Irving were
vuot of boys by the fence, but
>n hushed, and Roger went

listening for v
" It is all t

another wil

mouths befdi
Here a feu

heard froui

these were

on :

" Thib i.

because le

Hester Floyd saw fit to hide,
thought it unjust, and so fur

years

He did not get any further, for his voice
was lost in t:.e deafening cheers which went
up from tlie groaning boys for Iltattr Flu/jd,
whom they aesiguated as a trninp ami Ivkk,
hurrahing with all their might, "Good for
her. Three cheers and a tiger for Hester
Floyd."

The cheers and the tiger were given, an<l
then the boys settled again into quiet, w hile
Roger tried to frame some reasonable ex-
cuse for what hia father had dune. But

l\\

•ii

!::

MILLBANK ; OR,

I i

they would not listen to that, and those '
neairest to him said, " It's no use, Mr. j
Irving. We've heard the reason, and we
know whom to thank for this calamity, and
there's not one of us but hates her for it.
We can never respect Mrs. Walter Irving."
The multitude caught the sound of that
name, and the boys by the fence set up a
series of most unearthly groans, which were
in no wise diminished when they saw coming
toward them Frank, the heir, and their new
master, if they chose to serve him. Frank's
face was very pale, and there was somethinj^
like fear and dread upon it when he met the
angry glances of the crowd, and heard the
groans and hisses with which they greeted
him. Making his way to Roger's side, he
whispered, " Speak to them forme. They
will listen to you when they would only in-
sult me. Tell them I am not in fault."

So it was Roger who spoke for Frank, ex-
plaining matters away, and trying to make
things as smooth as possible.

" My nephew is not to blame," he said.
"He had nothing to do with the will. He
knew nothing of it, and was as much sur-
prised as you are when he found there was
one.

"Yes, and would have burned i*, too; tell
him that," Frank said, anxious to concili-
ate a people whose enmity he dreaded.

Roger repeated the words, which were re-
ceiver! with incredulity.

"Stuif!" "Bosh!" "Can't make me
Bwaller that 1" " Don't believe it !" and
such like expressions ran through the crowd,
till, roused to a pitch of wild excitement,
Frank sprang upon a box and harangued
the multitude eloquently in his own defence.
" It in true," he said. " I did try to burn
the will, and would have done so if it had
not lieen struck from my hand. I held a
lighted match to it, and Roger will tell you
that a part of it is yellow now with the
smoke and flame."

" Yellow with time more like," a woman
said while a son of Erin called out, " Good
for you, Misther Franklin, to defind your-
self, but plase tell us who struck the match
from yer hand."

" An' sure who would be afther doin' the
mane thing but his mither, bad luck to her,"
interrupted another of Ireland's sons, and
Frank rejoined, " It was not my mother.
Roger will tell you that it was some one
whom you love and respect, and who was
just as desirous that the will should be de-
stroyed as I was, but who did not think it
right and dared not do it. I am sorrier
about it than you are, and I've tried to
make Roger keep Millbank, and he refuses'
I can no more help being the heir than I
could help being born, and I do not want to

be blamed. I want your goodwill mt)re
than anything else. I have not I^>ger'8 ex-
perience, nor Roger's sense; but I'll do the
very best I can, and you must stand by m©
and help me to be what Roger was."

Frank was growing very eloquent, and his
pale, boyish face lighted up and his eyes
kindled as he went on telling what he meant
to be if they wonld only help him instead of
hindering and disliking him, until the tide
began to set in his favour and the boya by
the fence whispered to each other ;

" Let's go in for white-hair, jest for fnn if
nothing more — he talks reasonable, and may-
be heTl give us half holidays when the circus
is in town. Mr. Irving never done that."

" Yes, but he let us go to see the hanimah,
and gin Bob 'Untley a ticket," said a red-
faced English youth.

But the circus clique carried the day, and
there rose from that part of the green a loud
huzza for " Mr. Franklin Irving," while
the faces of the older ones cleared up a little,
and a feM' spoke pleasantly to Frank, who
felt that he was not quite so obnoxious to
the people as he had been. But they kept
alcof from him, and followed their late mas-
ter even to the gates of Millbank, assuring
him of their readiness to go with him and
work for him at lower rates than they wore
working now. And Roger, au he walked
slowly up the avenue, felt that it was worth
some sutlering and trial to know that he
stood so high in the estimation of those who
had been employed by him so long.

All over town the same spirit prevailed,
pervading the higher circles, and causing
Mrs. Johnson to telegraph to Springfield for
Lawyer Schofield, who she hoped might do
something, though she did not no what. He
came on the next train, and ^went at once to
Millbank and was closeted with Roger for
an hour, and looked the ground over and
talked with Hester Floyd, and screamed to
Aleck through an ear trumpct.and said a few
words to Frank, and bowed coldly to Mrs.
Walter Scott, and then went back again
to the group of ladies assembled in
Mrs. Johnson's parlour, and told
them there was no hope. The will was pe r-
fectlygood. Frank was the rightful heir, and
Roger too proud to receive anything from
him more thau he had received. And then
his auditors all talked tocether, and abused
Mrs. Walter Scott and pitied Roger and
spoke slightingly of Frank, and wondered if
there was any truth in the rumour that
Magdalen was to marry him. They had
heard so, and the rumour incensed them
against her, and when Lawyer Schofield
said he thought it very possible, they pounc-
ed upon the luckless girl,and in a very polite
waytore her into shreds, without, however

ROGER IRVING 'S WARD.

and

agara

led in

told

laa per-

|eir, and

from

fl then

ibused

er and

sred if

ir that

ly had

them

Ihofield

pounc-

I polite

Iwever

saying a word whioli was not strictly lady-
like and capaMe of a good as well aa of a
bad couatructiou.

CHAPTER XXIX.

POOR MAODA.

Nobody paiil any attention to her on the
morning following her visit to tlio library,
except Celine, and Frank and Roger. The
latter had sent her a bouquet which he ar-
ranged himself, while Frank, remembering
that this was the day when she was to give
him iier answer, had asked if she would see
him, and Celine, through whom the message
was sent, had brought him word that " Miss
Lennox was too sick to see any one." Then
Frank had begged his mother to go to her
and ascertain if she were seriously ill, and
that lady said she would, but found afterward
found it convenient to be so busy with other
matters, that nursing a sick girl who was
nothing to her now except a person whom
she must if possible remove from her son's
way, was out of the question. She did not
care to see Magdaleu just then, and she left
her to the care of Celine, who carried her
toast and tea abciut nine o'clock and urged
her to eat it. But Magdalen was not hun-
gry, aud bade the girl leave her alone, as she
wanted rest more than anything. At eleven
Celine went to her again and found her
sleeping heavily, with a flush on her cheeks,
and her head occasionally moving uneasily
on her pillow. Celine was not accustomed
to sickness, and if her young mistress was
sleeping she believed she was doing well,
and stole softly from the room. At one she
went again, finding Magdalen still asleep,
but her whole face was crimson, aud she
was talking to herself and rolling her head
from side to side, as if suffering great pain.
Then Celine went for Mrs. Walter Scott,
who, alarmed by the girl's representations,
went at once to Magdalen. She was awake
now, bnt she did not recognize any one, and
kept moaning and talking about her head,
which she said was between two planks in
the garret, where she could not get it out.
Mrs. Walter Scott saw she was very sick,
and though she did not pet or caress or kiss
the feverish, restless girl, she did her best to
soothe and quiet her, and sent Celine for the
family phj-aioian, who came and went before
either Roger or Frank knew that danger
threatened Magdalen.

"Typhoid fever, aggravated by excite-
ment and some sucMen exposure to cold,"
was the doctor's verdict. "Typhoid in its
most violent form, judging from present
symptoms ; " and then Mrs. Walter Scott,
who affected a mortal terror of that kind

of fever, declared her unwillingness to
risk her life by staying in the sick room,
and sent for Hester Floytl.

The old woman's animosity against Mag-
dalen had cooled a little, nnd when she
heard how sick she was, she started for
her at once.

"She nussed me through a fever, and
I'd be a heathan to neglect her now, let
her be ever so big a piece of trumpery,"
she said to hercelf as she went along the
passage to Magdalen's room.

Rut when she reached it, and saw the
moaning, tossing girl, and heard her sad
complaints of her head wedged in between
tlie boards, and her pleadings for some
one to get it out, her «)ld h>ve for the
uhihl came surging back, and she bent
over her lovingly, saying to her softly,
" Poor Maggie, old Hester will get your head
out, she will, she will — there — there — isn't
it a bit easier now 7 "and she ruhl)od and
bathed the burning head, and gave the cool-
ing drink, and ailministered the little glo-
bules in whi<;li8he had no faith, giving eight
instead of s'X and sometimes even ten. And
still there was no change for the better in
Magdalen, who talked of the will, which she
wc? '^^'■ying to burn, and then of Roger, but
n< H vv )rd of Frank, who was beside her
nov , lis face pale with fear and anxiety as
he saw the great change in Magdalen, aud
how fast her fever increased.

Roger was the last to hear of it, for he had
been busy in the library ever since Lawyer
SchoHeld's departure, and did not know what
was passing in the house until Hester wen^
to him, and said :

" She thinks her head jammed in between
them boards in the garret floor, aud nobody
but you can pry it out. I guess you had
better sue her. Mr. Frank is there, oi
course, as he ort to be after what I seen iu
the hall yesterday."

"What did you see?" Roger asked, and
Heater replied :

" I foun 1 her in my room when I went
from here, and 1 spoke my mind freely, I
s'pose, about her snoojun* after the will
when you had done so much for her, and she
gave a scant kind of search, and ran out
into the hall, where Mr. Frank met her, and
put his arm round her and led her to her own
door, and kissed her as he had a right to if
she's to be his wife."

Roger made no reply to this, but tried to
exonerate Magdalen from all blame with re-
gard to the will, telling what he knew about?
her rindiu^ it, and begging Hester t<> lay
aside her [)rejudice, and care for Magdaleu.
as she would have done six weeks ago.

And Hester promised, and calleil herself
a foolish old woman for hairing distrusted

MILLBANK ; OR,

the ^irl.and then went hack to the sick room,
leaving Rogei to foHow her at his leisure.
JSoinethitig in NLiadalen's manner the pre-
vi<iU8 niyht had led liiin to hope that poasihly
she was not irrevocably bound to Frank ;
there rniijht be some iniatake, and the future
was not naif so dreary when he thought of
her sharing it with him. I5ut Hester's story
swept all that away. Magdalen was lost to
him, lost for ever anil ever, and for a moment
he staggered Tin<ler the knowleilge just as if
it were the Hrat intimation he luid received
of it. Then recovering himself he v.ent to
Magdalen a bedside, and when at sight of
him she stretched her arms towards him and
begged him to release her head, he bent over
her as a brother might and took her aching
head. up<m his broad chest and hehl it
between his hands, scjothed and quieted her
until she fell away to sleep. Very carefully
he liid her back upon the pillow, and then
meeting in Frank's eye what seemed to be
repro.icli for the liberty he liad taken, he
said to him in an aside, " You need not be
jealous of your old uncle, boy. L' t me help
you nurse Magda as if she was my sister.
She is going to be very sick."

Frank had never distrusted Roger, and he
believed now, and through the long, dreary
weeks when Magdalen liy at the very gates
of death, and it somotimes seemed to those
\/\)'.: ^vatched hor r.s if she had entered the
unknown world, h^ never lost faith in the
man who stood by her so constantly, partly
htcauae he could not leave her, and partly
because she would not lef him go. She got
her head at last f om between the boards,
but it was Roger v:'.v> released it for her, and
with a rain of tearw, she cried, " It's out ; I
shall be better now ; then, lying back among
lier pillows, she fell into the quietest, most
refreshing sleep she had known for weeks.
The fever was broken, the doctor said,
though it might be days before her reason
was restored, and weeks before she could be
moved, except with the greatest care.
"When the danger was over and he knew she
■would live, Roger absented himself from the
eiek room, where he was no longer needed.
She did not call for him now ; she did not
talk at all, but lay perfectly passive and
quiet, receiving her medicines from one
as readily as ftom another, and ap-
parently taking no notice of anything
transpiring around her. But she was deci-
dedly better, and knowing this Roger busied
himself with the settlement of his affairs, as
he wished to leave Millbank as soon as
possible.

CHAPTER XXX.

LKAVINO MILt.n.V.NK.

It was in vain that Frank protested against

the pride which refused to receive anything
from the Irving estate. Roger was Jirm as
a rock.

" I may bo foolish" he said to Lawyer
Schofield, who wa» often at Millbank, and
who once tried to persuade him into some
settlement witii Frank. " 1 Uiiiy be foolish,
but I cannot take a penny more than the
terms of the will give to me. I have lived
for years on what did not belong to me. Let
that sufhce, and do not try to tempt mo
into doing what I should hate myself for.
I have been accustomed to habits of luxury,
which I shall find it diilicult to overcome ;
just as I shall at first find it hard to settle
down into a steady business,, and seek for
patronage with which to earn my bread.
But I am comparatively young yet. I can
study and catch up in my profession. I
passed a good examination years ago. I
have tried by reading not to fall far behind
the present age. I shall do verv well, I'm
sure." Then he spoke of Schodick, wliero
he had decided to go. "Some men would
choose the West as a larger field in which to
grow, and at first I looked that way myself ;
but Schodick has great attractions for me.
It was my mother's home. I shall live in the
very house where she was born. You know
my father gave me the farm, and thouyli it is
rocky and hilly and sterile— much of it —I
would rather go there than out upon the
prairies. I shall be very near the town,
which is growing rapidly, and there is a
chance of my getting in with a firm whose
senior member has recently died. If I do
it will be the making of me, and you may
yet hear of Roger Irving from Schodick as a
great man."

Roger had worked himself up to quite a
pitch of enthusiasm, and seemed much like
his olden self as he talked of his plans to
Lawyer Schofield, who had never admired
or respected him so much as he did when he
saw him putting the best face upon matters
and tearing his reverses so patiently.
Everybody knew now that he was going to
Schodick, in New Hampshire, and that Hes-
ter and Aleck were going with him. Both
seemed to have renewed their youth to a
most marvellous degree, and Hester's form
was never more erect, or her sttp more
elastic, than durinc; those early summer
days, when, between the times of her minis-
tering to Magdalen, of whom she atill had
the care, she went over the house, selectin
here and there articles which she declare
were fiprt^, and with which Mrs. Walter
Scott did not meddle.

Full of her dread of the fever, that lady
scrupulously kept aloof from Magdalen, and
when she began to fear lest the few for whose
opinion she cared should censure her for neg-

vi
w
Ic

ROGER IRVING'S WARD.

juite a
Ich like
llans to
nniired
llien he
liattera
(iently.
)ing to
it Ues-
Both
to a
form
more
Ininier
Iniinis-
Jll had
lecting
Iclared
Valter

lady
It, and

kvhose
It- neg-

lect, she affected symptoms of the disease and
stayed in her own room, wli«;re she received
the viuitH of the doctor, in white line writp-
|icr8 elaborately trinimed, and a scarlet
tthawl thrown acrss her shoulders. Frank
visited her several times a day, and once,
when his heart was heaviest with the fear
Ifst Magdalen would die, he went to lier for
sympathy, and laying his head on the pillow
beside her, wept like a child. There was no
pity in her voice, for she felt none for iiim,
and her manner was c(dd and indifferent as
she said she apprehended no danger — and
aided that she hoped Frank would not com-
mit hit>iaelf too far or allow his feelings to
run away with his judgment. He must re-
member that Magdalen had never promised
to m^rry him, and that if one woman could
read another she did itot believe she ever
would.

" She loves Roger," she said, " and he
loves her, and I have made up my mind to
explain to him a few things, and thus pre-
vent you from throwing yourself away ou a
girl whose parentage is so doubtful."

Then Frank dried his tears, and so far
forgot himself as to swear roundly that so
sure as she went to Roger with such a tale,
or in any way interfered between him
and Magdalen, just so sure would he deed
every penny of the Irving property to Roger;
and if he refused to take it, he would deed
it to Magdalen; and if she refused it too, he
•would make donations to every charitable
institution in the land, until the whole was
given away, and he was poorer than before
the will was found. Mrs. Walter Scott was
afraid of Frank in his present defiant mood,
and promised whatever he required, but sug-
gested that it might be well for him not to
assume too much the character of Magdalen's
lover until her own lips had given him the
right to do so. Frank knew this was good
advice, and, to a certain extent, he followed
it ; and when the crisis was past, he, too,
absented himself from the sick-room, and
spent his time with Roger in trying to under-
stand the immense busmess whiclli was now
his to manage, and which he uo more com-
prehended than a child.

" It is not well to trust too much to agents
and overseers. Better attend to it your-
self, " Roger said.

And then he spoke of one agent in par-
ticular that he distrusted and had intended
to discharge, and ailvised Frank to see to it
at ouje, and have but little to do with him.
And Frank promised to do so, rf membering
the while, with regret, that between this
man and himself there existed the most
friendly relations and perfect sympathy with
regard to homes — Frank's great weakness

— which only want of money kept in abey-
ance.

Like his mother, Frank was disposed to
let Hester Floyd take whatever she those in
the way of bedding and table-linen, and of-
fered no objections when she laid claim to
the spoons and silver tea-set which hail been
bought for .Jessie, ami were marked with her
initials. Spoons and forks of more modern
style, with only "Irving" marked upon
them, were next appropriated by the ^'reedy
old woman, whokejtt t\to men busy ono en-
tile day packing boxes for Schodick, N. H.
She was going at once to the old farm house,
which the present tenant had, for a consider-
ation, been induced to vacate, and her pre-
fiarations went rapidly forward, until, at
aat, the day but one came, when, with
her boxes and Aleck and M;xtty, ht r yraiid-
niece, who went as maid of all work, she
was to start for the Schodick hill^i, while
Roger went West I'or a few weeks, thus leav-
ing the old lady time to get things "straight-
ened out and tidied up " before he came.
This had been Frank's idea, conveyed to
Roger in the form of a suggestion that a
little travel would do him good, and hia
home in Schodick seem a great deal jilea-
santer if he found it settled than if ho went
to it when all was disorder and confusicm.
All the letter, kindlier (lualitiea of Frank's
nature ifere at work during those last (lays,
and evtn Hester brought herself to address
him civ)lly, and thank him cordially when,
to Iter numerous bundles and boxes, he add-
ed a huge basket of the choicest wines in the
cellar.

" To be sure, he wa« only offerint; to Roger
what was already his own," bhe said ; " but
then he showed that what little milk of hu-
man kindness he had wasu't sourer than
swill, as his mother's was."

Roger ha<l seen to the packing of but one
article, and this he had done by himself
and then carried it to the back stoop where
the other bairgatje was waiting. Hester saw
the long, narrow box and wondered what it
was. Frank saw it too, tjuesKtd what it was,
went to the garret to reconnoitre, and then
knew that it was the cradle candle-'oox, in
which Magdalen had been rocked. It had
stood for years in a corner of the garret, sur-
rounded with piles of rubbish and covered
with dirt and cobwebs ; but Koger had
hunted it out and it was going Mith him to
his new home, sole memento of *he young
girl he had loved so dearly, and who, all
through the long bright summer days when
he was so busy, lay quiet and still, knowing
nothing, or at most comprehending nothing,
of what was passing around her.

It was a strange state she was in, but the
doctor said she was mending, that the dan-

>i\

MILLBANR ; OR,

gcr was pft't. and a wook or two of perfect
quiet Wdiild restore her to a more natural
oundition. Had he Raid otherwine Roger
would not have gone, but now it was better
for hii.i to leave her while she was uncon-
BciouH of th<! pain it cost hitn to<lo ho ; and on
the ni;^ht Infitro his departure for the West
ho went to look at her for the last time.
Only Celine was with her, and she thought-
fully withdrew, leaving him alone with
Mat{<liil(Mi, who^e pale lips he kiaacd so pas-
oionatuly and ou whose face he dropped
tears of bitter anguish. Years after, when
her eyea wore shining upon him full of love
and tenderness and trust, he t(dd her of
that parting scene ; but she knew nothing
of it tiien, and oidy moved a little uneasily
and muttered something he could not under-
Rtand. She had no farewell word for him,
and so lie kissed her lips and forehead once
more and drew the covering smoothly about
her, an I buttoned the cutF (jf her night-dress,
which ill) saw was unfastened, and moved
the laiii|> a little more into the shadow, be-
cause lu! thought it hurt her eyes, and then
went out and left her tliere alone.

They were astir early at Millbank the
next morning, and a most tempting break-
fast, prepared by Heater herself, awaited
Roger in the dining-room. But he could
not eat, and, after a few inefTectual attempts
to swallow tlie rich, golden-coloured coffee,
ho rose from the table and left the dining-
rpom.

Knowing that he would, of course, come
to say good-bye to her, and dreading an in-
terview with him when no one was present,
Mrs. Walter Scott had made a "great
effort " to dreas herself and come down to
breakfast. lint she panfeil hard, and seem-
ed too weak to talk, and kept her hand a
good deal on her left side, where she said
she exporienceil great pain since her illness,
and sometimes feared her lungs were affect-
ed. W'itli all her languor and weakness,
she could not (juite conceal her elation at the
neai prospect of being entirely alone in her
glory, and it showed itself in her face and in
her eyes, which, nevertheless, tried to look so
sorry and pitiful when, at last, Roger turn-
ed to her to say good-bye.

She had nothing to fear from him now-
He had given up quietly. Success was hers,
with riches and luxury. It could matter
little what Roger thought of her. His opi-
nion could not change her position at Mill-
bank. Still in her heart she respected him
more than any man living, and would rather
he thought well of her than ill. So, with
that look in her eyes which they always
wore when she wanted to be particularly

intorosting, she held his hand l>etwoon her
own and said, —

"I can't lot you go without hearing yoii
say that you forgive me for any wrong you
imagine me to have done, and that you will
not cherish hard feelings toward mo. Toll
mo this, can't you, (le<ir hrotlur f "

He dropped her hand then, as if a viper
had stung him, and a gleam of tire leaped to
his eyes as he replied :

" Don't call mo brother now, Helen.
That time is past. You have wronged mo
fearfully, and but for you I should never
have met this hour of darkness. If (»od can
forgive me for all my sins against Him, I
surely ought t<> try and forgive you too,
But human ttesh is weak, and I cannot say
that I feel very kindly towards you, for I do
not."

He had never said so much to her bo' '•■'
and th»i proud woman winced a little, .;uC
tried to appear natural, and, for appearance
sake, went with him to the df>or, and stood
watching the carriage until it left the avenue
and turned into the highway.

In perfect silence Roger passed through
the grounds, so beautiful now in their sum-
mer glory ; but as the carriage left the park
behind, he leaned from the window for a
last look at his old home. The sun was
just rising and the dew-drops were glittering
on the grafs and flowers, whde the thoupanda
of roses with which the place was adorned
filled the air with perfume. It seemed a
second paradise to the heart-broken man,
whose thoughts went back to the dre; m ho
once had of just such a day as this when he
was leaving Millbonk. In the dream, how-
ever, there wns this difference : Magdalen
was with him ; her hand lay in his, her eyts
ehone upon him, and turned the midnight
into noonday. Now he was alone, so far as
she was concerned. Magda was not there ;
she would never be with him again, unless
she came the wife of Frank, who sat op-
posite, with an expression of genuine sym-
pathy on his bojish face. Frank was sorry
that morning, so sorry that he could not talk ;
but when, as they Ust sight of Millbank,
Roger groaned aloud and leaned his head
against the side of the carriage, he went
over to him, and sitting down beside him
took his hand in his own and pressed it
nervously.

There was a crowd of people at the station ;
the whole village, Frank thought, when he
saw the moving multitude which pressed
around Roger to say good-bye and assure
him of their willingness to serve him. There
were mills in Schodick, they had heard, and
shoe shops too ; and a few were already
talking of following their late master
thither.

t
w
a

tc
th
ca
ba

to
Sc
so
she

J re
al
wil

ly,

the
fore

S'pO!

ness

law .

band

from

drayi

and 1

the Ci

the St

took I

villiiLf

" She

trying

and pi

needle

old-fad

and bii

box tie

leaf far

two bej

her ov

quick, (

she Was

of all h<

reigned

never ri;

been, sp

which b(

driven t(

Piotn

watched

hop

you

yon

I will

Toll

viper
od to

rielon.
e*l me
never
()(l cat)
lim, 1 .

u too. '

ot say
[or 1 do

bo' "-
le, .ii»t
loaranoo
id stood
> avenue

through
eir sum-
the park
,w for a
aun was
flittering
loupanda
adorned
eemcd a
:en man,
re; m ho
when he
m, how-
agdalen
her eyf^
iiidnighb
80 fara3
t there ;
), unless
sat op-
ine sym-
as sorry
ot talk ;
illbank,
his head
h5 went
[aide him
essed it

1 station ;

when he

pressed

l\ assure

There

l-ard, and

already

master

ROGER IRVINQ'S WARD.

" It would be worth something to see him
round oven if they did not work for him,"
they said.

And lloKer heard all and saw all, and said

f;ood))yo to all, and took in his arms the
ittle baby lioy named for him ten months
befoiH, and Haid playfully to the mother,
" He Hhall have the tirdt cow I raise ou my
farm."

And then the train came round the river
bend and the orowd fell back, and Frank
went with Ilo^cr into the oar and waited
there until the train he^an to move, when
with a bound lie sprang upon the platform,
and those nearest to nim saw that he was
very white ami that there were traces of
tears in his eyes. No one spoke to him,
though all made way for him to pass to his
carriage, wliich drove rapidly back to Mill-
bank, which was now his beyond a doubt.

Heater Fl( yd went later in the day, and
to the last stood out against Mrs, Walter
Scott, whom nhe did not deign to notice by
80 much as a farewell nod. Over Magdalen
she bent lovingly, trying to make her com-
preheiul that she was going away, but Mag-
dalen only starc.l at her a moment with her
wild open eyes, and then closed them weari-
ly, and knew nothing of Hester's tears or
the great wet kiss which was laid upon her
forehead.

" She's to bo the lady of Millbank, I
s'pose, but I don't begrutch her her happi-
ness with that oldsarfent for a mother-in-
law and that white-livered critter for a hus-
band," Hester thought as she stole softly
from the room and went down to where the
drayman M'as loading her numerous boxes
and bundles. Frank offered her the use of
the carriage to carry herself and Aleck to
the station ; but she declined the offer, and
took a tierce kind of pride in sendint; the
village hack driver up to the side loor.
" She as't no odds of nobody," she said, .md
trying on her six years' old Straw bonnet,
and pinning her brown shawl with a darning-
needle, she saw deposited in the hack her
old-fashioned work-basket and her satchel
and bird cage and umbrella, and her band-
box tied up in a calico bag, and her palm-
leaf fan, and Aleck, And Matty, who carried
two beautiful Malta kittens 'n a basket as
her own special property. Then with a
quick, sudden movemeut,and an indifTerence
she was far from feeling, she shook the hands
of all her tellow-servants over whom she had
reigned so long, and hoping they would
never rind a *' iu!<«" mistress than she had
been, sprang into the hack with an alacrity
which belied her seventy summers, and was
driven to the depot.

Fiom her window Mrs. Walter Scott
watched the fast receding vehicle, and felt

herself breathe freer with every revolution
of the wheels. When Roger went, a great
weight ha<l been lifted from her spirits, but
so long as old Hester Floyd remained she
could not feel altogether free ; <»nd now that
the good dame was really out of the house
she sat perfectly still until she heard the
whistle of the engine, and saw the white
smoke of the train which carried the enemy
away. Then she rose up from her sitting
posture, and her long graceful neck took a
prouder arch, and her step was more firm,
fier manner morequeenly.as she went direct-
ly to the kitchen, and summoning tlie ser-
vants to her presence told them they were
at lil>erty to leave her employ within a
luonth, as she should by that time have pro-
vided herself with other help. Very civilly
they listened to her, and when she wah
through, informed her that she need not wait
a month bffore importing her new coterie of
servants, as each oii'- of them was already
supplied with a situ;iti(m, and was intend-
ing to leave her that night, with the excep-
tion of Celine, who had promised Mrs. Floyd
to stay till Miss Lennox's mind was restored.
With a haughty " \ ery well, do as you
like," Mrs, Walter Scott swept out of the
kitchen and made the circuit of the hand-
some rooms which were now her own,
Frank, too, had watched the hack asit drove
away, and listened for the signal by which
he should know that Hest Floyd was none,
for not till then could lie feel perfectly secure
in his possessions. But as the loud, shrill
blast came up over the hills and then died
away amid the windings of the river, there
stole over him a pleasurable sense of pro-
prietorship, and he thought involuntarily of
the familiar lines, " 1 am monarch of all I
survey, my right there is none to dispute."
Frank liked to feel comfortable in his mind,
and as he reviewed the steps by which he
had reached his present position, he found
many arguments in his own favour which
tended to silence any misgivings he might
otherwise have experienced. He was not to
blame for bis grandfather's will, nor to
blame for hiding it. Everybody knew that.
Roger said he was not, and Roger's opinion
was worth everything to him. He had been
willing to burn the will, and wl en he could
not do that, he offered repeatedly to divide
with Roger, and was willing to divide now
and always would be. Surely he could do
no more than he had done. He was a pretty
good fellow after all, and he began to whistle
" Annie Laurie " and think of the agent
whom Roger had warned him against, and
wished it had been anybody but Holt, who
was such a good judge of horses, and had
such a fine high-blood for sale, which he
oflFered cheap, because he needed a little

IMAGE EVALUATION
TEST TARGET (MT-3)

1.0

1.1

1.25

M 125

■10

■j.

IMS

111

12.2

140 mil 2.0

1.8

1.4

^P:

Photographic

Sciences
Corporation

33 WEST MAIN STREET

WEBSTER, N.Y. 14580

(716) 872-4503

,-\

«v

^.. ^^

^^%s

5
1^

MILLBANK ; OR,

ready monej'. As the war steed scents the
battle from afar, and pricks up hia ears at
the smell of blood, so Frank felt his love jt
horse flesh growing strong within hitn.
There could be no harm in riding over to see
Hr)lt'8 horae. He would have to go there
any way if he dismissed the man, as Roger
had advised, and he would go at once and
have a bad job off his mind. Accordingly,
when lunch time came Mrs. Walter Scott
lunched alone, and when the dinner hour
came she dined alone, and when the stable
doors shut that night they shut into bis new
home Firefly, " the swiftest horse in the
county," whieh Frank had bought for eleven
hundred dollars.

Holt, the agent, was not dismissed I

CHAPTER XXXI.

THE HOME IK SCHODICK.

It was a quiet, old-fashioned farm-house,
with gables and projections And large rooms
and pleasant fire-places and low ceilings and
small windows, looking some of them to-
wards the village, with its houses of white
nestled among the trees, and some of them
upon the hills, whose shadows enfolded the
farm-house in an early twilight at night, and
in the morning refiected back the warm sun-
shine which lay so bri((htl^ upon their wood-
ed sides. There was a kitchen with a door
to the north, and a door to the south, and a
door to the east, leading out into the wood-
shed, and there were stairs leading to an up-
per room, and a fireplace " big enough to
roast an ox," Hester said, when with her
basket and bandbox and umbrella and cam-
let cloak and bird cage and kittens and
Aleck, she was dropped at her new home
and began to reconnoitre, deciding, first,
that the late tenants of the place were " shi-
ffless critters,or they would never have lived
there so long with only a wooden latch and a
wooden button qu the outside door," and
second, that they were " dirty as the rot, or
they would never have left them stains on
the buttry shelf, that looked so much like
oheese-mould."

Hester was not altogether pleased, with
the house. It came a little hard to change
from uzurious Millbank to this old brotrn
farm-bouse, with its oaken floors and stone
hearth and tiny panes of glass, and for a time
the old lady was as home-sick as
she could be. But this only last-
ed until she got well to work in the
cleaning process, which occcupied her mind
80 wholly that she forgot herself, and only
thought how to make the house a fitting
place for her boy to come to after his travels
West. Roger had given her money with
which to furuifih the house, and she had

added more of her own, while Frank, when
parting with her, had slipped into her hands
one hundred doll<trs, saying to her, " Roger
is too proud to take anything from me, and
I want you to use this for the house. "

And so it was owing partly to Frank's
thoughtfulnesa and Hester's generosity that
the farm-house, when renovated with paper
and paint, and furnished with the pretty,
tasteful furniture which Hester bought,
looked as well and inviting as it did. The
most pains had been taken with Roger's
room, the one his mother occupied when a
girL Hester had ascertained which it was
from an inhabitant of Schodick, who had
been Jessie's friend, and slept many a time
in the room under the roof, which looked
off upon the pond and up the side of the
steep hills. I he prettiest carpet was put
down there, and curtains were hung before
the windows, and the bed made up high and
clean with ruffled sheets and pilloir-cases,
mementos of Millbank, and Jessie's picture
was hung on the wall, the blue eyes seeming
to look sadly round upon a spot they had
known in happier days than those when the
portrait was taken. There were flowers,
too, in great profusion, — not costly, hot*
house flowers, hke those which decked the
rooms at Millbank, but sweet, home- flowers,
like tho^e which grow around the doors and
in the gardens of so many happy New Eng-
land homes, — the fragrant pink and old-
fashioned rose and honeysuckle and helio-
trope, with verbenas and the sweet migno*
uette.

And here Roger came one pleasant July
afternoon, when a heavy thunder-storm had
laid the dust, and cooled the air, and set
every little bird to singing its blithest notes,
and, alas! soured the rich, thick cveam,
which Hester had put away for the luscious
wild strawberries which, late as it was for
them, Mattie had found in the meadow by
the fence, and picked for Roger. With
the exception of this little drawback, Hes-
ter was perfectly happy, and her face was
radiant when she met her boy at the door,
and welcomed him to his new home, taking
him first to his own room, because it looked
the prettiest, and would give him the best
impression.

Roger had been in Schodick once or twice
when a boy, but everything now was new
and strange, while, struggle as he might
against it, the contrast between the old home
and the new it^affected him painfully at first,
and it was weeks before he could settle
down quietly, and give his time and atten-
tion to the firm of which he at once became
a member. For days and days he found his
cliief solace in wandering over the bills
where hia mother once had been, and ex-

w
h(

tfa

is (

del

the

cati

thin

was

her

aosv

Hec

him I

desii

to asi

rebel

amon

from

no an

willh

Roj

for ho

bis SOI

the ve

ward {

broken

and pD

the wi<

rished,

future

never g

though

pine, at

unseen

troubles

den soQj

'ank, when
her hands
p, " Koger
>m me, and
i»e."

l)o Frank's
osity that
pith paper
he pretty,
r bought,

did. The
bh Roger's
d when a
ich it was

who had
ay a time
ch looked
ido of the
; was put
ing before
) high and
ioir-cases,
)'s picture
es seeming

they had

when the
e flowers,
stly, hot-
ecked the
le- flowers,
doors and
JJew Eng-

and old-
and helio-
et migno-

s&nt July
itorm had
', and set
lest notes,
ik cream,
3 luscious
b was for
eadow by
r. With
ack, Hes-

face was
; the door,
ae, takins
it looked

the best

i or twice
was new
he might
old home
y at tirst,
lid settle
ad attea-
e became
found his
the hills
and ex-

plonng the Bhad^^^r^^Z7~7~-.

the rock under the ov«^ ' *°** ^^nting out
«Je had crept iwav from °«^u".« P>°«' ^^e"

^^m her hearCjust i?fc l^'' «***' "^frow
He found the «?ot at 1.1'* ^'^ ^^^ »«» hi-.
flhadowofonecVeatmnir '^J"'* "o*!*"- the
««otJ;e,, wherf the i^l°2 ^'^ *''" ^«^8" «*
thickly ^it,, the re§^^fn T, """P^tod
Srowth, and the uSn ^* * °/ ***' Ar's
above his head aeS' *»"«^*ed boughs
•°d try to comFort S ''^''^' "°4.

herh;:rKL'rrik';nl''^^?'r^ ^«^' that

aa^ and felt thatShSrtwi'br'r ^°«-
He had tried not to tKi^r ^foken.

<lalen. and during the ni^^*"'"*''» *'^ M««-

inent of travelJi„| he L3 i*^. """^ ''^^te-

f "• tu^giog at hi hem ^V^^' ''^^ »»i*t«''

ROGEK IRVING'S WARD.

n« J -•*««'."» at His heart as i>

Without you?" ^ waning i how can I live

Without you. - «* Hve

J;e-S^taraiI1ht:^i^?^^^

was8truck.as he aeveJ b!foJ*i^^i«^*. *nd

that clause which said • ^'^ been, with

r-thiiVmor''?J«.:f r^ We, there

ae had read these Unl. " *** y<">

they never i'^^reslT h?°^ *'"*«•• hut
as now. It was J^! f J?*". "^ forcibly
;»«on to Heavin in his*iJf » ^«f invo^
thing more than «no*h«t ^i*^^* ^he one

was Magdalen. anr^fe'S^?? 5" '^^^''^d
her from him ? Why^ n. ^?i "^^'^held
answered his Utl^,' He not heard and

Hedeaitsoh^rsSw^b- r^"'' Why W
him everythiunhioh"^K JV°°' t^W from
desirable? ^ '^^'''^ ^*d hitherto mtie™g

to I^frcZt'^ S^^^^^^ '-• creature
rebellious as he ask^ t?« **" ^^^* ^ard and
among the cones and ^h* ?'^ ^^ ^^^e
from the pitiless sk?^ abTve K'*^ ?i°"»' *^d
no answer back fnrit-^ him there came

will have Hi^lhirrlL'ZZ^^^ ''"'' ^"^
Roger could no<- h^ question Him.

forho^urs hesaJthe^ aI«rT« *^«". »nd

h.8 sorrow, and neveMry^a/L,''*"^^^ ^th
the very last, when with - * P«?y until at
ward child g ves whin .u'^ ""''^ *• • way-
broken, he cov?re7hi^f'^^ ^^ is tinaljr
«nd prayed earnestl J ^ "S ?'^- ^" ^»°d?
the wicked, rebellions f^ i- '^rgiven for all
nahed. and'for str^nTtht S^ \« ^^^ oh'.
Jnture had in storTffr hSn^'liX^*'*^*'' the
never gave way again as £.' I. i^^^"" *^»t he
though he went often to thl?'** ?°°* ^'^^O'*.
P»ne,and made it a kinH r ^'^'l °°^«'- the
"nseen by morta eye\f ^,*H ^here.
troubles to GoH ««/^ ' he could fcell hi»

densomewh^fhXfr"''^^^«» *^"'>«^

ww^^rSvJng^Vowl^^^^^ thatMagdalen
rumour in a roundaLt 1 «° ther« came a
for the bridal was iixS^ ^*>' that the day
ter Scott wasTxVet' Yo^J^*^^'»-wS:
bndal trousseau. Rolr^*"? "«^««ting the
white for a few days aSV*!^* ^«" ^ery
had power to clear^thrshL*^**; *°^ ""thing
until one morninc thpL ^"'^ ^'^'^ his brow
t«; Floyd from Oalen7/ ^f/'^^ *«H«^-
dehcate perfumery she aW "*''''. ^''h the
about It, and her prettv ^^^" ""^^ lingering
"f^l. How RogrpfesS5"°^K*'""P«°thf
thing in one haSd and^ the iuauirnate
other, and how fast k-"'*'^ ^* ^''h the
ter. who was J the midst' of"*'* i' *« ««»-
her morning's churSn/' but w^k"""* «^«'"
troy aside at once and wShpH 1 ^'l^ P"* the
adjusted her spectacled "hn ^^;^*"^»' «"d
by inwardly chifingatlhrSi. ^oger stood
to know what MaX^!„ i. j®^*^' a»d longiuff

very short indeed.^aJd^fo^lr"'^"- ^'^^
did not sound at afl lik« J *"i^'t•ff' and
wasduiteweUnow and«K ^»«dalen. She
Mr8.>ioyd for all th« *^«, '"wanted to thank

her befoii le.ling MiuSZ:''' "^"^ '*^«" "^
to m v";h^;^^^^^^^^ -/ ou were vei^ ,i,,

andshaJllTays'emeffi'"^ *" tbe^'ate?
'"eboth then anTwheh y""" '''''^°««« to
such a care to you T !° ^'^*', a child, and
all who have S; so mu±"?^ «'-*t«f''l ?o
'^wh them to know it a„i^ '*"" ">«' and I
kind y as I do them I al"* .remember me
and I want to take witl.^ *°!?? awaysoon.
,¥'llbank. I have 7k. T?"^ brought to
httle dress I cInno?fi^^''*t. but* the

thinksyoutook ftfn hf^K .^"'- Irving
and if so. will you pVa^e '«^"> • ^'^ ^ou?
once by express, an<f ob^" "^ '' *° ^« -t
* ours truly,"

"Magdalen."

to.|ot:?x*^;t^tTiestt' ""« --^- it
y>th ♦. lam deepirgratefTl r°'/. ^««'""ing
done so much for me ^' wallr? "'^^'^^ ^avf
to him. She wished Sy"'^ to refer
kindly as she did Wm^n^ remember her
away from Millbank C t '^^ ^^^ «"in«
with whom, Rop«r 7 i^t "'•Ac^e. or how o?

^"^u'she w'asgXTo h "°' *«"• ^X
'Tbyahe ahoffi Jant ^%'"*''r'^' though
Blip round with her fiuet^wi"*^ '''*' '^"'* of^J
could divine." she iS^ ^** *"?'« than she
down the little spotted i« '^« broughj

MILLBANK; OR,

Slied, " You must answer your own letters,
[ester ; " but he directed the little parcel to
Miss Magdalen Lennox, Belvidere," and
sent it on its way to Millbank.

CHAPTER XXXII.

Magdalen's decision.

It was a warm morning in early August
when Magdalen came fully to herself and
looked around her with a feeling of wonder
and uncertainty as to where she was and
what had happened to her. The last thins;
she could remember distinctly was of being
cold and chilly, and that the night wind
blew upon her as she groped her way back to
her room. Now the doors and windows
were opened, and the warm summer rain
was falling ou the lawn outside and sifting
down among the green leaves of the honey-
suckle which were trained across the window.
There were flowers in the room, — summer
flowers, — such as grew in the garden beds,
and it must be that it was summer now, and
many weeks had passed since that dreadful
night whose incidents she Anally recalled,
knowing at last what had happened in part.
She had found the will, and Mis. Walter
Scott had carried it to Roger, who was not
as augry as she had feared he might be.
Nay, he was not angry at all, and his man-
ner towards her Mmen she went to him in
the library had belied what Frank had said,
and her cheeks flushed and her pulse throb-
bed with delight as she felt again toe kisses
Roger had rained upon her lips and forehead
and hair, and heard his voice calling her —
" Magda, my darling, my darling." He had
done all this on that night which must have
been so long ago, and that meant love, and
Frank was mistaken or wished to deceive
her, and she should tell him so and free her-
self wholly from him and then wait for
Roger to follow up his words and acts, as he
was bound in honour to do. Of all this
Magdalen thought, and then she wondered
what had been done about the will, and if
Roger would really go away from Millbank ;
and if so, would he take her with him, or
leave her for awhile and come for her again.
That he had gone she never for a moment
suspected. She had been delirious, she
knew, but not so much so that some subtle
influence would not have told her when
Roger came to say good-bj'. He was there
still. He had arranged those beautiful
bouquets which looked so fresh and bright,
and had set those violets just where she
could see them. He had remembered all her
tastes, and would come soon to see her, and
be so glad when he found how much better
she was. At last there was a step in the
hall ; somebody was coming, but it was not

Roger, nor Frank, nor yet Celine- She had
flnally been sent away, though she had stood
her ground bravely for a time in spite of
Mrs. Walter Scott's lofty ways and cool
hints that Miss Lennox would do quite as
well with a stranger, inasmuch as she did
not know one person from another. She
called her Miss Lennox now altot^ether.
Magdalen would have been too familar and
savoured too much of relationship, real or
prospective, and this the lady was determin-
ed to prevent. But she said nothing as yet.
The time for talking had not come, and
might never come if Magdalen only had
sense enough to answer Frank in the nega^
tive. He was still anxious, still waiting for
that torpor to pass away,and leave Magdalen
herself again. In his estimation she was
already his, for surely she could not refuse
him now when eveirbody looked upon the
marriage as a settled thing, and he insisted
that everything should be done for her com-
fort, and every care given to her which
would be given to Mrs. Franklin Irving.
And in this his mother dared not cross him.
His will was stronger on that point than her
own, and hence the perfect order in the sick-
room, and the evidences of kind, thoughtful
atteution which Magdalen had been so quick
to detect. In one thing, however, Mrs.
Walter Scott had had her way. iShe had
dismissed Celine outright, and put in her
place a maid of her own choosing, and it was
her step which Magdalen heard, coming to-
wards her room. Sne was not a bad-faced
girl, and she smiled pleasantly as she spoke
to Magdalen and said, " You are better this
morning, Miss Lennox."

" Yes, a great deal better. Have I been
sick Ions, and where are they all ? Who are
yon, ana where is Celine ? Magdalen ask-
ed, and the girl replied, ** She left here some
two weeks ago and I came in her place ; I
am Sarah King ; can I do anything for
you T "

"Nothing but answer my questions. How
long have I been sick, and where are Hester
"loyd and Mr. Irving? "

She meant Roger, nut the girl was think-
ing of Frank, and replied, " Mr. Irving went
to Springfleld yesterday, but will be home
to-night, I guess, and to glad to And yoa
better ; he has ueen so concerned about you,,
and is in here two qr three times a day."
*>"Is.he?" and Magdalen's face flusbedi
at this proof of Roger's interest in her.

" Don't you remember anything aboHt
it ? " the girl asked, and Magdalen replied,
"Nothing; it is all like a long, disturbed
sleep. Where is Hester, did you say?"

" You mean Mrs. Floyd, I suppose ; she
has been gone some time, — to Scbodick, or
some such place. She went with old Mr.

She meant Roger by old M ,

merrily at the misSke £ «"'* l*"«*'«d
too much aurpriserl o^'i "'. °"^ she mm
more than a tCght '"'^ P*"'^*^ *« «ive ?J

«nd why did they i;ave m.l *^'** '^^^ ?«.
Has everybody gone? Tn """^ "° ""^^
yon know about it '' " "**' P^ewe, all

the once hapDv honlv. . j *"®*' *J»at ©fall
^as left alonT S?^t*' ^illbank «he
Bervanta gone, afd XeT*l ^^°"' '^« °W
i hat was the hardesrnrf y^«<»^e. toe.
tears sprang to her eyeaL a f*!,-^'' ^''^ the
«ckness came stealin^o" ?/?"« °^ ^^'"e-

ruJe'dt ;;^,{f/i,I^^^^ Sarah said

-d she left thlrt'ntS^t"^ ^'""^^ -'''

cam'et^l^^^?XSf^Mr; WalterSo^^

little morning cip Jf^^th^ ^ff ^""^ *i«"nty
nes. with a bTtS^lfveAV**-ff ' ^^lencien.
•*• She was not a^l^^ZP^^T.^ '^l^eve
««?; and there was aSt T"^ ^^<i^rne,s
pohteness wholly different f^' * v*°d'«d

and feigning not*to te thi^ ^'""'o'*'^ b«d
Magdalen held toward her. "* ''^^''^

nndXtd" the 'caVse'°^V '^ T'"^"* «nd
"ow the undisputed !!; * ^^"' ^'^ng was
and she the dL" !? "'"'•'ess of MilJbank
the lady'B han^ .fe^^^'^^^^ft th^e o '
«obody wanted. ' That tS.?,^ * drag whom
lenputit, and her t^ir? 11*^?. ^''^ Magda-
jjephed. .. Yes. I am h^f ^'^1»-*"' as she

don't understand it Sa^f"""* f"* ^'-I-
be left here alone -J^h l^'. °.'' ^^y ^ should
with them?"* ' ^hy didn't they take me

be mVv?rthoufeC rr.^o sick to
their movements* Mr? Fl^5 ^'"^« *bout
rude and ill-bred tW^V^''^'^ ^"^ so very
M much as poShio ^ ^Pt «"t o»" her wa?
*»«. I saw bCttt?; ;?^r Rog^ravoS
^«rth while to diirj/ *^^"'- Jt " "ot
"anly " the cruel "om^ /^^^^^ """^ces
how Magdalen cr^eT ^w' ""u*" "^« "^''^
«very possible care of Von n ^\ ^.*^^ *aken
*^^-o-tilyo;2<^|;d^continne

^^^fHjRVlNG'S WARD.

• J, _ w

-fptLttKe':^^^

^ Nothing couW be cooIer7r *? ^° "«• ''
manner and words «^ i u ''*" her tone and
which there was nn ''• f ".* '««• the face
^ould have drubteS hi".'"-:?'''"?' ^»gdS
o.Iy.U,ngu.d womi;'.t utd"l'*^ "'''^ *^"
pet her ' , much, and to « if ° *""'«8« and

t\ ^.r P*'d « kind of 7h',*,""« *'■'"«
^ut It ,ro« the ..^ child-worship
sho stood a fn« f"*® woman Jl,^
-Idly at%:gdSr^;' ^^^r' "°«ki"1
?af or two from the vaJ'"i'S« * d"«^
the stand; then conflnlfT! i."^ ^"wers on
«a>d. "You must excusi 1*^ her watch she
an engagement at ten S u""^' ^« J havj
yon have everything vo!;** T^' ««« tha?

mf..K7 *" ^'^^^""nt nurse °T*- J°" ^'^
m3 self from a dozen annE^' / ^hose her
I il Bee you again bvSi *°*," ^<^'' the place
morning." «*'° ^>^ «"d by. I^i^h y^^ ^^'^

life] ^Lrrt s,r? '^^ ^'-"^^ o-

Sarah went back to her sb'^*"/ ^^*'" ** W

and won a bet and mX f. ?• ''^ the course
reitutation a« « I . '°'' himself ciiif« -

as unsurpassed in the sSr*^^ ^--oommended
ral shares in a newM ^ ^"d took seve-
sure to^^o '' if thrricTS^T ^'^'"'^ "«»

Dav h' >^ ^^"«h i?1t went '''"^P'**'-^"-
pay double. Ji,d«fi r.: , . "t was sure to

who was stopptn7lt trt' «^ Boston?

-u«ht him Z afd fntrodLe'd'^rf *' ,^*^
«e". a handsome l.n„„ki ."* daughter
made fun of his li'ght m^,„^7 ^''^' ^ho^^hld
face before she knew who he't" ""^ ^^^^h
had been very gracious fl.-"^"^' ««d then
Burleigh was^pfor'a''"! to h,m after. Bell
travagant, and on th! 1 i^'^^'onable and ex i

Frank Irving Vasricl^^°^*f°'-«husba„T
hnest residence ?n the' o"^. '"*«*«'• o^ the
cultivating, and so «h! ""*^' and worth
evervartTnown toa tJ ^^°«"ded upon h?m
world, and walked^JJ^h^^ T^ *" "^ th"
halls and sat with h.V^ • !V™ through the
jyenin^. and w^it out •iVh''' P^^^^o^r m the

-^ battered and coS^tf^i:l;f?:ri!j^ |

^.'41

iril

MILLBANK; OR,

to wonder why other people beside Bell
Burleigh had not diicovered what an enter*
taiuiug and agreeable man he wa<i ! But
through it all he never for a moment waver-
ed iu his allegiance to Magdalen, Bell's
influeuoe could not make him do that ; but
it iuHattjd his pride and made him less able
to bear cho humiliation to which Magdalen
was about to subject him.

After her first interview with Magdalen,
Mrs. Walter Scott did not see her again
until her son returned, though she sent
twice to know how she was feeling and if she
woulil have anything. To these inquiries
Magdalen had answered that she was doing
very well and did not want anythins more
than she already had, and this was all that
passed between the two ladies when Frank
came home from Springfield. He heard from
Sarah of the change in Magdalen ; but heard,
too, that she could not see him that night,
as he had been sitting up some little time
and was very tired. The next day it was
the same, and the next. She was too weak
to talk, and would rather Mr. Irving should
wait before she saw him. And so Frank
waited and chafed and fretted and lost his
temper with his mother, who maintained
through all the utmost reserve with regard
to Magdalen, feeling intuitively that matters
were adjusting themselves to her satisfac-
tion. Sue guedsed what the delay pretended,
and on the strength of it went once or twice
to the sick room, and was a little more
gracious than at first. But Magdalen was
very reserved toward her now, barely answer-
ing h«r questions, and seemed relieved when
she went away.

Frank saw her at last. She was sitting
up in her easy chair, and her face was very
pale at first, but flushed and grew crimson
as Frank bent over her and kissed her fore-
head and called her his darling, and told her
how glad he was to find her better, and how
miserable he had been during the last few
days because he could not see her. ^

*' It was naughty in you to banish me so
long. Don't you think so, darling ? " he said
playfully, as he stooped again to kiss her.

He was tamng everything for granted, and
Magdalen gasped for breath as she put up
both hands to thrust him aside, for she felt
as if she were smothering with him so near
to her.

" Sit down, Frank," she said ; "sit there
by the window," ai'd she pointed to a seat
so far from her that more kisses were out of
the question.

Something in her tone startled him, and he
sat where she bade him sit and then listened
breathlessly wliile she went over the whole
ground carefully, and at last, as gently as
possible, for she would not unnecessarily

wound him, told him she could not be his
wife.

"I decided that before I knew Ro^er had
the will," she said, " and I sent for you to
tell you on that dreadful day when so much
happened here. I like yon, Frank, and I
know you have been very kind to me, but I
cannot be your wife ; I do not love you well
enough for that."

It was in vain that Frank be^i^ed her to
consider, to take time to think. She surely
did not know what she was doing when she
refused him ; and he thought ol Bell Bur-
leigh and all the flattery he had received in
Springfield, and wished Magdalen could
know how highly some people esteemed
him.

Maffdalen understood him in part, amd
smiled a little derisively as she replied : " I
know well what I am doing, Frank ; I am
refusing one who, the world would say, was
far above me, — a poor girl, with neither
home, nor friends, nor name. ''

" What then, do you propose to do,"
Frank asked, " if, as you say, you are with-
out home or friends?"

" I don't know. Oh, I don't know. Some
way will be provided," Magdalen answered
sadly, her heart going out in a longing cry
after Roger.

As if divining the thought, and feeling
jealous and angry on account of it, Frank
continued :

"You surely would not go to Schodick
now. Even your love for Roger would not
allow you to do so unmaidenly a thing as
that."

He spoke bitterly, for he felt bitterly, and
when he saw how white Magdalen grew, and
how she gasped for breath, he went on
pitilessly, — " I think I know what stands
between us. You fancy you love Roger
best."

"Hush ! Frank, hush 1" Magdalen cried,
and the colour came rushing back into her
face. " If I do love Roger best, it is not to
be mentioned between us, and you must re-
spect the feeling. He does not care for me,
or he would have not left me here so sick,
without a word of farewell to be given when
I could understand it. Did he leave any
message, Frank ?"

Had Magdalen been stronger, she would
never have admitted what she was admitting
to Frank, who, still more piqued and irri-
tated, answered her, "None that I ever
heard of."

" Or come to see me either ? Didn't he do
so much as that ?"

Frank could have told her of the many
nights and days when Roger npver left her
side, except when it was absolutely neces-
sary ; buthe would not even tell her that ;

a:
h:

re
M
Re

feh

Was

wisj

just

ougl

port

now

wi8h(

moth

andh

great

bitter

endun

Belvid

Magda

MiJiba,

a Derfe

his mot

there w

Walter

she help

love for

Frank, j

former

That poi

Which wi

with all i

»nmate of

haps, be i

"But
you've goi
and treat 1
edwiUwaj
something
. Frank's
jockeys an
Improved

lot be his

Rotter had
for you to
n 8o much
nk, and I
me, but I
e you well

?ed her to
ihe surely
when she
Bell Bur-
sceived in
en could
esteemed

part, and
)lie(l : " I
nk ; I am
I say, was
;h neither

3 to do,"
are with-

avr. Some

answered

)nging cry

nd feeling
it, Frank

I Schodick

would not

thing as

terly, and
grew, and
went on
at stands
re Koger

en cried,
into her
t is not to
must re-
e for me,
re so sick,
iven when
leave any

ihe would

admitting

and irri-

at I ever

in't he do

the many
ir left her
ely neces*
her that ;

fle merely aaid • •« r a '

f " before he left tTf^y he looked upon
veiy busy those U.5 J ^ ''*' ""*• HeTJ
^reatdeaAo clo '' *" '"^ ^'»^-. Wd W a

S?rl'P -*'- but she made a

pained by Koirop'- J . '^'^ much she wn.
neglect. Stillf irdiS'i!« '"difference and

great tears camn />» •' "" worn, and fi,-
f he thought K m[K"^ ^"^"^ her eye, L
how desolate anTuio?''^? "'*« had been ' .1
world. And Prank ">•? u*" '" the great
tned to comfor/ I, ^'*'«'d her at lasf l!i

-ord which"tf.Id -Ve'hlr^"^' -"'ay 'a

him to leave her Sh*'^' T''*" "he be.^ed

Janr"^ ^>^ -hen'sh73rJt,'t;^ ^'^'^-'
Sfllif r*"^- She had no J?if "T «" they
^'llbank, as she, of coL;,« °*V home but
^«««r to Schodick C' T"^^ ««t follow
Phww on the word ^// ^'''''^d great em
J«jt her blood tiSe^n T' ""J^ WdalS,

haps be its n.rrS;°^°- -ho mighVpe^?
you've gotTcotetwir T '^ "mother

TaS y-'^ 'he'wtfo^ Ha^y, 1,?^

/ookeys andmenof'ljr""*' -''h horse
^^Proved his laVgiagV/'^'S^r had^no"
7 * ' **"* he was in

BOQER IRVINO.S WARD.

ST^'uir^d? il^d Teo''"hP^«""»ed whatever
more readily, becaus?.K 7 P*"""""* all t],!
h« would, and pjead L'^* ''"^'^ that do what
-«°ici never be'l^MtJ^.^^ ^'«'''' Alagdaleu

CHAPTEJxxxiir

aud Kood Z-siS''*°"'^ he both a iood^«^\>J«

• Address. C four weeks ""^"^ '^"^^
^V,«s.^,, weeks.

J^" advertisement •^^'^^°'^-'

which Frai.b -y®"* Was in ♦),« rr

•^om where Mhl- "P"" ^hi table Tn'H^ '
jere sitting, i?^" T'other and Ma/1 ,*''''
dalen's «r«? . J.V'^*? four week« -^fS' *^«"

were Sitting, t* j:: ';'"'«er and Mairrior"
dalen'n hVo? ^'was four wnni,- . %'»ajeu

irethpr ^ that, so long as thl« *"t under-
fh« nfl' ^^^h was to be m J T '"^'named to-

which Ku,'" town with ;• -"^ want el
. , Perhaps I ah.Ti u

was gone 8h« f!^ i P^^^'a^t trio i** h**"

ffj

U 4

MILLBAKK ; OR

rnme lituation, as teacher or coverness,
v^hiuh would take her from Millbauk and
make her independent of every one. She
itaw the advertiaement for a young woman,
who was "a good reader and good muBi%
ciau." She knew she was both, and knew,
too, that she was of " pleasing a<Ulre8H " and
"vultivatud manners. She did not object
tu being a companion for an invalid. It
-would be easier than a teacher's life,and the
~u-ould write to "Mrs. Penelope Seymour"
And see what that lady had to say. Accord-
iiiigly, the very next mail which went to
ZNew York from Belvidere carried a letter
•of inquiry from Magdalen to Mrs. Seymour,
whose ruply came at once ; a short note,
written in a plain, square hand and directly
to the point. There had been many applica-
tions for the situation, but something in
Miss Lennox's manner of expressing herself
*had turned the scale in her favour, and Mrs.
■Seymour would be glad to see her at the St.
Denis, as soon as possible. Terms, a fe
Ihundred dollars a year, with a great deal of
leisure.

Five hundred dollars a year seemed a vast
•amount of money to Magdalen, who had
never earned a penny since the berries pick-
ed for that^ photograph sent to Boger, and
siie began at once to think how she would
Juy it up, until she had enou((h to make it
worth giving to Roger, who should not know
from whence it came, so adroitly would she
manage. She had in her own mind accept-
ed the situation, but, before she wrote
again to Mrs. Seymour, it would be proper
to lay the case before Mrs. Walter Scott,
.and, for form's sake, ask her advice. That
lady was delighted, for now a riddance from
Magdalen was sure without her intervention;
but she kept her delight to herself and
seemed, or several minutes, to oe consider-
ing. Then she said something about its not
being what her son expected, or wished, and
jisked if Magdalen was fully resolved not to
jnarry Frank.

Magdalen .knew this to be a mere ruse,
.done for politeness' sake, and she bit her lip
to keep from answering hastily.

Uer decision was final, she said. She
should probably never marry any one, certain-
ly not Franks and she could not remain at
Millbank longer than was absolutely neces-
sary. Mrs. Irving must know how very un-
pleasant it was, and what an awkward posi-
tion it placed her in.

Mrs. Irving did know, and fully appreciat-
ed Magdalen's nice sense of propriety, and
she was very gracious to the young girl,
and said she was welcome to stay at Mill-
bank as long as she liked, but, if she prefer-
red to be less dependent, she respected the
feeling, and thought, perhaps, Mrs. Sey-

raour's offer was as good as she would have,
and 't might be well to accept it.

And so it was accepted, and Magdalen
made haste to get away, before Frank's re-
turn. She hunted for the little dress, im-
pelled by a feelicg that somewhere in the
wide world, into which she was going she
might find her mother, and she would have
every possible link by which the identity
could be proven. Mrs. Walter Scott had
told her that Hester Floyd took the chest of
linen in which the dress was laid and so she
wrote to Hester the letter we bave seen.
Ouce she thought to send some word direct
to Roger, hut her pride came up to prevent
that. He had never written to /t«r, or senc
to inquire for her that she knew of, for
Frank had not told her of a letter written on
the prairies, in which Roger had inquired
anxiously for her and asked to be remember-
ed. Roger did not care for her messages, she
thought, and she wrote as formally as pos-
sible, and then, with a strange inconsistency,
expected that Rocer would answer the let-
ter. But only the package came, directed
iu hia handwriting, and Magdalen could
have cried when she saw there was nothing
more. She cut the direction out, and put
it away in a little box, with all the letters
Roger had written her from Furope, and
then went steadily on with her preparations
for leaving Millbank.

It was known, now, in town, that Magda-
len was going away, and it created quite a
sensation among her circle of friends. She
was not to marry Frank. She was not as
mercenary as many had believed her to be,
and the tide turned in her favour, and Mrs.
Johnson called with her daughter Nellie,
now Mrs. Marsh, of Boston, and all the elite
of the towL came up to see her, and without
expressing h iu words, managed to let her
know how much she had risen in their esti-
mation by the step she was taking. They
could not quite understand it all, but
they spoke encouragin^rly to her, and invited
her to their houte, whenever she chose to
come, and went to the depot to see her off, on
the bright autumnal day when she finally left
Millbank for a home with Mrs. Penelope
Seymour.

CHAPTER XXXIV.

MRS. PEKBLOPB SEYMOCR.

Magdalen felt herself growing very ner-
vous and uneasy as the long train came slowly
into New York, and car after car was de«
tached and drawn away by horses. She was
in the last of all, and was feeling very for-
lorn and homesick and half inclined to cry,
just as a voice by the door asked : "Is Miss
Lennox, from Belvidere, here ?"

1
I
I
t

Uti

wh
faci
Afuj

of fl

in 8]
<t

take

thro

Wait

^eisui

He V

six y,

agrej

fitiU rt

liess a

a Way

heart.

iis hai

Wagda

she hat

be qixit

Weathei

feiviJe;

Irving I

come ini

Magdi

l^ce Has

^•n; yes.

1. ^ w

college, b

apart as t

iniproved
prig."

* I may
standing a

answered >
Jr^ingis a
him ever si
^ the only

nearwhistJi
furethathe
V than he h
'•eason heat

)uld have,

Magdalen
-ank'a re-
resB, im*
re in the
going she
uuld have

identity
Soott had
le chest of
ind BO she
stve seen,
ord direct
prevent
tr, or sent
V of, for
vritten on

inquired
enieiuber-
sages, she
ly as pos-
usistency,
' the let-
I. directed
len could
B nothing
;, and put
lie letters

rope,

and

eparationa

xt Magda-
td quite a
nds. She
as not as
ler to be,

and Mrs.
er Nellie,
11 the elite
id without
to let her
their esti-
g. They

all, but
nd invited
3 chose to
her off, on
finally left

Penelope

*noro Was rpn

t'ht?' "r^ '•««-«^S7„ t'^° *«"« of the

^2^BR«VI!W8tVARD.

* gjl

"•nl-kw l"" '» ««k. your °d°r ■»?

"> spite of f I 1 ^""» and likfirf i..- * *"id
take my artn '•?„ ^' P«'''»ap« vonM h **

«W1 retained about ^° *°^ «ocirty! and IT

heart tL "" *' once to e' "^ '"'J ^'Peued
i^» hair Sf ? T*" ««'»etbio;i"'2;f«'«>?er's

^ce was scarJpf "^ 'l^'ct^y up *n^ u
him; yes llu *" »he reDlieH^'M?1 ^^r

ooMn V**^ t*»'o veS- K^°*'®ofyourt>»
*^"ege, but sonha a?^ * behind him •

near whistJin^ il K^^' ^^f comnaninn

•'tentive and polite,

sixty or thl. '. *<l"are.back«,i ^'"'e,

arraL««.,i ■ '•"'^oats. wifh • " ^'"»aa of
proZ^h "i.P"ff« ariu^d'^ ^'•^^"•Kray hair

thrSuL^*J;7i'ch seemed to I^nl""^ '"""'''i

takin j JLt^"?"'' Auntfe Pen '• ».

Jr''"^^^ hand Lr ^°°'*'-'«ned to off"'."''
JJ«t Magdalen felt^'i? '^'"^ 't in such rj^^''

continued '.'ri '''■'^*'' '^'nner aton„ » ^
and MiM r "^^^ t'ain was In if ^°®' Cfuy

v^hiie Srs '« *"^ ^« touched t^ ^T'' ^'1
•bout Kg fe'^?"' ^*- .ayi, '^^,^^ r'lPo
hopinir ahirJ 'o ^ee Mis. rl *^'"ethn,,,
, Vhow 7' "'^t very tS!^''"*'*' an J
;«'*. ^henatittT ""^ ^^^oly ax,,, ,
J^^ a few niom^i;'^^ ,^« alone ^n h^f *^'*^""
hair and inad« i ' J^^^e she artL /"""m
dinner I ru ^'f^^^^ wore nr«. ?^^"^ her

«J^es asahef;?tl^'''"'P'-angtoML "'^^ »
d'ngy brick wauJ^Lri''*'' he?weef t^*^''
pavement, andtl *°,*' *hat damn *''®««
r*^th of'S;^,'?« fre«h green^V«a';'"^'^r ■

trees which V '^*' and shubberw ^ j * and
"Pon. Sunn°''^^»'» had beo^.*°d forest

«towhich&*'^^ to occup';""tf . *he St

one had mnw- "ctv, auch was tn. w i ^nd
^as to ii v?iW"^"'«««a^ to '^J^"' ^-*^-
^otel or privJte'i^"" ^^ *^« city or""^/^" «he
«ome to t?e St fc"- «««• orde« T''*"-^'
her heart wa« 1?*'"^' ""d there a?.« ^^^ *"
• longing to L °« ^'th hoCfitt '"""'''"f'
^ith SSfer wh^'^^^'-^ot at Mnn^r'^'^d
was honTe an!J^r*'''«'' he wL Vfe''' ^^^t
J^agda^n fjft ,h«Pr ess anS 'rear ^ k^""
fiut it wonM "® "hould nevpr « J ""''h as

o "i'art 01 a

100

MILLBANK ; OR,

favourite opera, and felt glad and grateful
that at the very outaet of her career ahe had
met Guy Seymour to amooth away the rough
places for her, as he waa doiiiff in more wava
than ahe knew of, or ever would know. I'o
him ahe owed it that ahe waa not left to find
her way alone from the depot to the hotel.

" There ia no need of your going for her.
People of her clasa can alwaya tind their
way," hia aunt had aaid to him in the morn-
ing, when he aaked what time ahe expected
her Yankee school-ma'am to arrive, aaying
he wished to know ao as to have nothing in
the way of hia going to meet her.

To his aunt'a augseation that " people of
her claaa could usuallv find their way," he
gave one of hia pet wniatlea, and aaid.

" How do you know she ia one of the
' people of her claaas ?' And supposing ahe
is, aho ia a woman, and yonns and posaibly
good-looking, and New YorK is an awful

{)lace for a young, good-looking woman to
and in, an entire atranger. So, ma chert
auntie, I shall meet her juat as I ahould
want aome chap of a Guy Seymour to meet
my sister if I had one. And, auntie, I beg
of you to unbend a little, and try to make
her feel at home. I've no doubt she'll be as
home-sick as I was the first time I ever
visited you when I was a boy, and cried so
hard to go home that I vomited up that
quart of green gooseberries I had eaten sur-
reptitiously out in the garden. Do you re-
member it ? "

And so kind-hearted Guy hod his way,
and when he told Magdalen that his aunt
had kep\. him in a constant worry on her
account, be had reference to a widely <liffer-
ent state of affairs from what his words im-

Slied and what he meant they should imply,
[e had been fighting for her all day, and in-
sisting that if she was a lady she should be
treated as a lady, and when he mot her at
the depot, he felt that he had been wholly
right in the course he had pursued.

She was a lady, and pretty, too, as nearly
as he could judge through the drab veil
which covered her face. The veil was off
when she came out to dinner, and Guy, who
met her at the door and conducted her to
the table, started a little to see how beauti-
ful and graceful she wa^ and how like a
queen she bore herself toward his aunt, who
took her in now, from her black, shining
hair to the sweep and cut of her fashionable
travelling dress.

"That is last spring's style. It must
have been made in New York," was Mrs.
Seymour's mental comment, and she felt a
growing respect for one whose dress bore so
unmistakablythe New Y'ork stamp upon it.
She was dressed in satin — soft, French
gray satin — whose heavy folds stood out
from her slender figure and covered up the

absence of hoopa, which ahe never wore.
There was a point lace coiffure on her head
and point lace at her throat and wrist:*, and
diamonda on her fat white hands, and ahe
looked to the full a lady of the high position
and blood which ahe profeaaed, and she waa
very kind to Magdalen, albeit there waa a
certain atiffneaa in her manner which would
have precluded the alighteat approach to
anything like familiarity had Magdalen at-
tempted it.

Evidently there waa aomething about
Magdalen which riveted her attention, for
ahe omitted no opportunity of looking at
her when Magdalen did not know it, and at
certain turna of the head and flaahea of the
large, reatleaa eyes which sometimes met
hers so suddenly, she found herself perplexed
and bewildered, and wondering when or
where she had seen eyes like those whose
glance she did not like to meet, but which
nevertheless kept flashing upon her, and
then turning quickly away. Guy, too,
caught now and then a familiar likeness to
something seen before; but it was not in the
eyes or the turn of the 'head — it was more
in the expression of the mouth and the smile
which made Magdalen so beautiful, while
there was something in the tone of her voice
like another voice which in all the world
made the sweetest music for him. He knew
of whom Magdalen reminded him, though
the faces of the two were no more alike than
a brilliant rose and a fair, white water-lily.
Still the sight of Magdalen and the silvery
ring of her voice brought the absent one
very near to him, and made him still kinder
and more attentive to the young girl whose
champion he had undertaken to be.

" Is it still your intention to leave New
York to-morrow, or will you give Miss Len-
nox a day in the city for si^^ht-seeiug ? I
dare say she would like it better than plung-
ing at once into that solitude of rocks and
hills and running rills," Guy said to his
aunt, who replied : "I had intended to leave
to-morrow. I am beginning to long for soli-
tude, as you call it, and unless Miss Lennox
is very anxious to see the city — "

" Of course she is. Every young girl
wants to see the Park and Broadway, and
the picture galleries, especially if she has
never been in New York before. But I beg
your pardon. Miss Lennox; for aught 1 know,
you were born here. "

Magdalen had been a close listener to the
conversation between the aunt and nephew,
and gathered from it that her destination
was the country, and she was not to live in
the Boisy city, which would seem so dreary
to her from contrast with the gaieties of last
winter, when she was there under very dif-
erent auspices. She had no desire to see
Broadway, or the Park, or the pictures. She

W
<<

SO)

sot

be J

dfit

help

gOQa

so w

She

Seyn

her I

here

and 8

at lea

that it

VValte

heard.

"AI

avenut

heard <

"No

ed by h

Irving,

Was as 1

I have I

intendec

occurrec

seekah(

iJhood.

the one j

death, ai

ger's nep

the e8ta(

preferred

She hac

was necess

conversati

^'ood-niifhl

"WeJI
-Vra. Sey'a
side.

"1 thill

"I J» u '" *^eMr York .»,« ,?°® ^M

all fK *? ^«'"« l»»t winter ' . ''*P"«'l •
*" there is iir,,-«u "'°t«r, and saw T ti.- i

^^^^;^RXKmo's WARD.

ih 1 '^^4." *"'' '*'^««' theS; if you
^ *^'"t she's SDlen^.-^ ., ,

She^haTi^tfc '*?he look, like ,

«very inch « uA • "^ ^ f'^ J'«r. /of ;h;' «
*rraciou8 sake njf'„ •' ^""t i'oa. don-J /
were the arelt ^^ °,*""'' ^'th her a« f ' ""■

D-^on. and Drag^Z"?, °^ ^'' ^'^oyyiugte
■«o Wag teayino i.

«»uchofa8capeg4e!L"°\' ^"' ho-ever
K Auntie Pen* WM nrtr*''* **"ok h,m tJ
and follow hi, .al^e^Z^r' '"^ ««"-^'Jer
«he was very polity t^^'ulJ^ll "*'* .'""'•""'g

feXTifXi^,/^St:^^^^^^^^^ t^i

o^toah° «^?; fi"' Magdalen T^^''*'r'-»''«
SrikfiV f K *^' •"'J « four or ;«*^ *« ^e
ti'e'lrthJtai^nt^-Ke-e rou^rtotlt'

Mrs. Seymour haH « * .
DJunicative iiriM. " "ot '>een verv «,»

'nem, had asked the 8am« '° accomnanv
Be'ech;''^*^ ^o'netbfnThe^r*'^" '» ^^"^

waitina for ful ,*'*'^"*ge now wji.nil *^'

carriai.1 / ^^ ''■avellers—a n!^ " ^*«
wirnage^ drawn bv tJr^u °®^ stylish
which would h.,"Z. '^o beautiful h/"^!^

"«wug lor the trav«rr ™^ ^hi

^".••."{Jge. drawn b? tt^r* °«^

and then, olosintr fch« ^ ^*** *he carriatr^
;-. « vu ner nephew's I Tvf ' t^^ «*»-*& up ^Z' "^""°*«d toffs

«iast, for as they rode

102

MILLBANK ; 0R1

tip the mountain aide tht aaid iu Mrs. Soy*
mour :

" I do not think you have told me the name
of your niece. I have heard ynu call her
Alice, and that it all I know of her."

"Surely you mn«t excuse me," Mrs.
Seymour replied ; " I thought I had told you
that her name was Alice Grey. You mny
have heard of her from Mr. Irvins. We
met him abroad, and again in Xew \ork."

•' Yes, I have heard of her," Magdalen
replied, hor face Hushiug, and her heart beat-
ing rapidly as she thought of the strange
providence which was leading her to one of
whom she had heard so much, and of whom
when a little girl she had been so jealous.

•* Hers is a most lovely character, and you
are sure to like her," Mrs. Seymour con-
tinned. "She has been sorely tried. We are
nil sorely tried. You told me, I think, that
you were not nervous ? "

This was the second time she had put the
question to Magdalen, who was not quite
so certain of her nerves as she had been
when the question was asked her before ;
but Mrs. Seymour did not wait for an answer,
for just then they came in sight of the house,
which was pointed out to Magdalen, who
thought of Millbank as she rode through the
handsome grounds and caught glimps^ei of
the river in the distance. The carriage
top, e I at last at the side door, and conduct-
ing Magdalen into a little reception-room
Mrs. Seymour asked the servant who met,
them " whore Miss Grey was? "

Magdalen could not hear the answer, it
was so low ; but she saw a cloud on Mrs.
Seymour's brow, and divined that something
was wrong.

" Show Miss Lennox to her room, the one
next to my niece's," the lady said, and
Magdalen followed the tfirl to a large upper
room, the windows of which looked out upon
the river and the country beyond.

It was very pleasant there, and Magdalen
threw off her hat and shawl and was just
Beating herself by the window for a better
view of the charming prospect when there
came a gentle knocK at her door, and a
sweet musical yoice said softly, " Please,
may I come in ~ "

»»

CHAPTER XXXV.

ALICE AND MAGDALEN.

Magdalen gave one anxious glance at her-
self in the mirror as she sprang up, and then
hastened to unbolt the door and admit Alice
Grey. She knew it was Alice, though she
had never imagined her one-half so beauti-
ful as she seemed now in her white dress,
with her chestnut hair falliug in soft curls

about her face and neck, and her great
dreamy blue eyes, which had something 'o
pitiful and pleading in their expression. She
was very slight and not as tall as Magdalen,
who felt herself a great deal larger and older
than the little, pale-faced girl whose white
cheeks had iu them just the faintest colour-
inf{ of pink as she held nut her hand and
said, " You are Miss Lennox, 1 know.
Aunty wanted me to wait till she could
introtluce me, or till you came down to
dinner, but I was anxious to see somebody
youne and new, and fresh. I go out so little
that I get tired of the faces seen every day."
" Perhaps you will get tired uf mine,"
Magdalen nuggested, laughingly.

" Perhaps 1 may, but it will be a longtime
6rst," Alice replied, leading Magdalen to
the window, where she could see her more
distinctly.

There was an expression of surprise or
wonder, or both on her face now, as she said,
"Where have I met you before, Miss Lei. -
nox ?"

" I don't think we have ever met before ;
at least not to my knowledge," Magtlaleu re-
plied, while Alice continued :

" I must have seen you cr somebody like
you. I can't be mistaken in those eyts.
\V hy, they are like — "

Alice stopped suddt-nly and the colour all
faded from her cheeks and lips, while Magda-
len looked curiously at her.

" You've never been abroad ?" Alice asked,
after a moment, during which she had studied
Magdalen closely.

" Never," was the reply, and Alice con-
tinued ;

" And I have been away seven years, and
so it cannot be ; but you do not seem a
stranger, and I am so ^lad. I opposed your
coming at first — that is, I was opposed to
having any one come just to entertain me;
and when auntie wrote from New York that
she had engaged a Miss Lennox, I saw you
directly, some tall, lank, ugly woman, who
wore glasses and would bore me terribly."

" Do I come up to your ideal?" Magdalen
asked her, her heart warming more and more
toward the young girl, who replied :

" You are seeking for a compliment, for of
course you know just how beautiful and
brilliant and sparkling you are ; only that
sudden turn of your head and Hash of your
eyes does bother me so. And you are young,
too. As young as I am, I guess. I am
twenty -one."

" And I am nineteen," Magdalen rejoined,
while Alice exclaimed ;

" Only nineteen I That in young to be
d«ing for one's self ; young to come here, to
care tor me, in this house."
She seemed to be talking in an absent

P
w

ar
M
w

oai

hu;

at ;

sta:

an(
<i

see

an h

Ife<

you

haps

hean

the J

WP3 s

Ithai

my8t<

whicb

mome

settliu

ness a

sickne

pilJowi

Wept h

niemb«

comme

been se

"Is

This wi

she sho

made i

dressm;

It wa

lace, fo

faor ({r<>at
nethin^i »o
«iun. She
MagdAlen,
' and older
hone white
t'st colour-
hand and

1 know,
ahe cuuld

down to

somebody

ut BO little

very day."

of mine,"

I colour all
ile Magda-

lice asked,
lad studied

^lice con-
years, and
)t seem a
puaed your
tpposed to
;ertain me;

York that
I saw you
man, who
rribly."

Magdalen
I and more
I :

lent, for of
itiful and

only that
sh of your
are young,
ess. I am

a rejoined,

ung to be
le here, to

an absent

w..co„..„^t„aeechwoo!lr''" "^ *^«° h«

P^H ^'^Xt^'^a^'" >^*'en re.
what3he had said of her nL^*"* "'^ »>««d to
She was standing Jfi?*"^^""""®"*-

^agdaJen had' Xerve,' ^k"", ">«- ^^ch
!^a« evidently thTV^ •'«'o''«- She
f«7i«n to (iu7 sev^'i^'"« "^ "omething
and she stoo,! thus uS ir "^ "efvousnessT
t^ie hall outside the "1 ^^^K^*'*" l«eard in

«-«'^t the faUe:tTo'3e"'.*'r' •«"
Human crv <s»,„ ". i/0"U(ie sound liko „

w., .. -•,- J^«« a", ^as stili; and the bZe

Tf^ra\TeeXVo^3^^

^hich the family tTied' to ?n ^"'^^ **' "^'"•le

moment Alice i«. 1 *° cover up ; but the

-ettlingdownu^^J hfra''^/"'' ^ A^t
nessanddesolatS thiol ^u^^'"« "^ ^"neli-
«9knes8.and buryinj^if?' ««"«d home.
pHJows of fiio /"'IS ner face amonir +»,«

«ne .hook out the /nM.< u*" '-bought, a.

— . lU.f

I ^^-a'iV'i:;^^

came to uko he!? d„Tn to tS- *','*'* '^"c«
Arthur Grey wm w.Hl^XZlTn!' "'*"«

CHAPTER XXXVI.

Mn. OKEV AND MAODALKX.

Mr. filrev >ii>^ l
Magdalen Wl coil!*7' ''««" hi. ,i,ter that

he woul.i «o tfJad V V^ **«/ pi-esence w »,»*
jas it that tK'v^-.V'^' ''"■««"«"• Vhy'

greater sorrow for him Vl ''"u® "•'c' no
"enced for yeir- . **"*° he had exi «
'«reign scenes^C L*7 •*' *""«» wh'f' "
«°;^the burden whfeh '-n P''l'*^« ^"'•^•'

The girj jg ^ • , "a/'er than before,
too. though of aTr Hiff "^"^^^ hands„,no

^???^^i&r^!^-^;^3o^^

S" ''^^"^V ^:p^'7^^u':,'"v^r«t ti.

reasons why anvthin^ ^^"«h there are

would rather Affss 1^^"*^'"' »« me, a,.,! £
-onje other fannj';', ^'^"°^ had come f,L„
He left his aistl,. *•

?wn room, whereon the w f."^ ^«"* *'> hi,
mg that little penci? stL^" ,^'«» "till ham !
'; fielvidere, a^nd the £,t? «/ the graveya.*:i
n the grass with the ho.^* ^ ?""^ standi,,,,
arm >hat Miss t^ Jl,"^ f wers on hc^
that picture, Mr GrPv^T" ***« °"8"Jal of
had told him that herV'^ °°* ''""bt. Hi'
and that she hid alwav? r* ?*« Magdah
"o there could be„rJ-?1 ** ^i^'ba k''
scarcely thought of th*f ^' *^- «« ha,
hut it came back Z W '"''"'«"* f""- y^arV
»« very strange thltth^ "'''^•*"'^ «t'-»ck S
should have come tLr« '^'"^ ^*^«f°«t g "
daughter. ">« there as companion to S

f^^^^^^^^^^ *>?- room-an,l

he^ she will see th?s picture 'I '"*>' ''^^
itatonce, and wnnr?.^*^ L '^^^ recocniz^
possibly recognS'^^:'- a's'th:' l^""** '*' -'
talked with her in Ihl *"® stranger who
ter out of sight"' Ve'sS'^^^l: ^t is bet^

ttre-h*:;;-£?^^

1U4

MILLBANft ; OR,

"wretch of a Jim Bartlett " once had the
credit of stealing. And all this time the
man trod softly, as if fearful of being heard
and called for, and he looked often toward
tho door which opened into the adjoining
room. But everything was still ; the Bur-
(It'll was sleeping at last, lulled into quiet by
tiio sweet music of " Allio's " voice and the
lunch of " Allie's " hands.

Having put the picture away, Mr. Grey
made himself ready for dinner, and then
going down to the parlour, he stood before
the grate, waiting for his daughter and Miss
Lennox. The door was open into the hall,
and he saw them as they came, with their
arms interlaced, and Magdalen's head bent
towards Alice, who was smiling up at her.

" Strong friendship at once," he thought,
feeling for a moment vexed that his high-
bred daughte shrnld so soon have fallen
ia love with i.dr hired companion.

But this emotion of pride passed away for
ever with Mr. Grey's first full inspection of
Magdalen Lennox, whose brilliant beauty
Btartled and surprised him, and whose bright
restless eyes confounded and bewildered
h*m, carrying him back to the Schodick hills
imd the orchard where the apple blossoms
were growing. But not there could he find
tlie solution of the strange feeling which
bwept over him and kept him silent, even
atter Ali-je had introduced her friend.

"Miss Lennox, father," Alice said, a
second time, and then he came to himself,
and said, " Excuse me. Miss Lennox; some-
thing about you, as you came in, set me off
into the fields of memory, in quest of
some one who must have been like you.
You are very welcome to Beechwood, and I
am glad to see you here. "

With a courtly grace he offered her his arm
and led her to tli dining room, followed by
Alice and his sister, both of whom were
delighted to see him cake sc kindly to a
stranger.

j > Mrs. Seymour it showed an acknowledg-
;i- -i vi on his part of her eood taste and judg-
ii.^ut in selecting so fitting a person for
..t lice's Lompaniou, and a willingness to f ol-
io v- her advice, and make the best of it,
even if Miss Lennox was connected with tne
Irvlngs. SLo knew something of Jessie's
slory. She saw her once in Schodick, and
Elte had done what she could to separate her
^Mother from her, but she did not know of
the tragic ending, and she gave no thought
to the poor, drowned woman, who, all
Through the formal dinner, wm so constantly
ill Magdalen's mind. She had &\ once iden-
t Hed Mr. Grey with the stranger in Belvi-
tleie, though he seemed older than she had
tliought him then. Still, there was no mis-
takiag him, and when hia sister casually ad-

dressed him as " Arthur," it came over her,
with a great shock, that this man was none
other than the "Arthur Grey" who had
been poor Jessie's ruin, and whom Koger
hated po cordially. There could be no mis-
take ; she was positive that she was right in
her conclusions, and felt for a moment as if
she were smothering. What strange fatality
was it which had brought her into the very
household of the man she had hated for
Eoger's sake, and longed to see that she
riiight tell him so ? She had seen him at
last ! he was there, at her side, sp«-.kiug to
her so kindly, and making her /eel so
much at home, that she could not hate him,
and before dinner was over she had ceased to
wonder at Jessie's infatuation, or to blame
her for listening to him. He was very polite
to her, but seemed to be studying her face aa
intently as Alice had done at first, and once,
when she poised her head upon one side,
while her eyes flashed suddenly upon him,
and then were quickly withdrawn, the blood
came rushing to his face and crept up under
his hair, for he knew now of whom that mo-
tion reminded him. He had thought it so
charming once, and the eyes which shone
upon him as Magdalen's did had been so
beautiful, and soft, and liquid, and given no
sign of the fierce wildness with which they
had many a time glared on him since.

"It is only a resemblance, but I would
rather it did not exist," he thought, as he
met that look again, and shivered as if he
was cold.

Dinner being over, they returned to the
parlour, where, at Alice's request, Magdalen
seated herself at the piano. Her home sick-
ness was passing away, and she no longer felt
that a nightmare was oppressing her, but
rather that she should find at Beechwood
peace and quiet and a home, and she sang
with her whole soul, and did not hear the
sound outside, M'hich caught Alice's atten-
tion 80 quickly, and took her from the room.
She knew, however, when Alice went out,
and a moment after was conscious of some
confusion by the door, and heard Alice's
voice, first in expostulation and entreaty,
then calling hurriedly for her father to come.
Then Mr. Grey went out, and Mrs. Seymour
was left alone with Magdalen, who finished
her song and left the piano, wondeiing what it
was which had taken both Mr. Grey and Alice
i so suddenly from the room and kept them
away for half an hour or more. Indeed, Mr.
Grey did not return at all, and when, at last,
Alice came back she was very white, and
Fiaid something to her aunt, which sounded
like, " It was the music which affected her,
I think."

Was there a mystery at Beechwood, Mag-
dalen thought ; a something hidden from

ROGER IRVING'S'WARD.

105

ue
ad
;er
kis-
I in
8 if
lity
ery
for
ahe
n at
3j to

1 BO

him,

2d to

lame

)oUte

iceaa

once,

side,

him,
blood
under
Bit mo-
lt it so

sboue
een so
iven no
li they

would

as he

,s if he

|d, Mag-
in irom

view, and was it this which made Alice look
BO sad even while she tried to smile, and ap-
pear gay iind cheerful, by way of entertain-
ing her new friend ?

They had the parlour to themselves ere
long, for Mrs. Seymour went out, and then
Alice took her seat on the couch, where Mag-
dalen was sitting, and nestled close to her, as
n child nestles to its mother when it is tired
and wants to be soothed.

Passing her arm around the slender waist,
Magdalen drew thd curly head down on her
bosom, and gently smoothed the chestnut
hair, and passed her hand caressingly across
the forehead, where the blue veins showed
so plainly.

Magdalen was not given to sudden friend-
ships, and she could not account for the love
and tenderness she felt growing so fast with-
in her for this young girl, who lay encircled
in her arms, and who she knew at last was
crying, for she felt the hot tears dropping
on her hand. She could not offer sympathy
in words, for she did not know what to say,
but she stooped and kissed the flushed cheek
wet with tears. Alice understood her, and
the silent crying became a low, piteous sob-
bing, which told how keenly her heart was
wrung.

"Pray excuse me for giving way so fool-
ishly," Alice said at last, as she lifted up her
head. " I was ill so long in Enrope, and
the voyage home ./as rou^h and stormy, and
I kept my berth the entire two weeks we
were out at sea, so that by the time New
York was reached I could not stand alone.
I am better now ; home scenes and mountain
air have done me good, but — but — oh. Miss
Lennox, I cannot tell you now of the shadow
which has cast a gloom over my whole life.
AVhy, I have seen the time when my beauti-
ful home had scarcely a charm for me, and
in my wickedness I accused God of dealing
too harshly with me. But He has been so
good to me, who do not deserve kindness
from Him. When I knew you were coming
I went away among the hills and prayed
that I might like you — that your presence
would do me good — and I am certain the
prayer was answered. 1 do like you. I feel
a firm conviction that in some way j'ou are
destined to do us all an untold good. You
do not seem like a stranger, but rather like
a familiar friend, or I should not be talking
to you as I am. Have you sisters, Miss Len-
nox ?"

The moment which Magdalen dreaded
had come, when she was so be questioned
by Alice with regard to her family, and
she resolved to be perfectly frank, and
keep nothing back which it was proper for
her to tell.

"I have no sisters that I am aware of,"

she said. " I was adopted, when a little
baby, by Mr. Roger Irving, who lived at
Millbank, and was himaelf a boy then. The
circumstances of my adoption were very

f>eculiar, and such as precluded the possibi-
ity of my knowing anything of my family
friends, if I had any, I have never known
a sister's love or a brother's, or a father's or
mother's though I Lu*. :j been as kinkly and
tenderly cared for as if I had been the petted
child of fond parents, and only an adverse
turn in the wheel of fortune sent me from
the home I loved do much."

She paused here, and Alice rejoined, " Mr.
Irving ? Millbank ? Why, both are familiar
names to me, and have been since I was a
little girl at school in New Haven and knew
Mr. Franklin Irving. And yvii — why, yea
— " and Alice's manner grew more and more
excited, " you are the very Magdalen Frank
used to tell me about, aud of whom I was
sometimes jealous. You know Frank," she
continued, misconstruing the expression of
Magdalen's face.

" Yes, I know Frank," Magdalen re-
plied, "and I, too, have heard a great deal of
you, and was jealous of you at one time, I
believe."

" You had no cause," Alice replied,
'thinking of the " Piccola Sentinella," rather
than of New Haven ; '* I liked Mr. Irving
very much as a boy, and when we met him
abroad I was very glad to see him, and
rather encouraged his visits than otherwise,
but father disliked him tboroughly,or seem-
ed to, and treated him so cavalierly that I
wondered he could come to us at all. But
he did, and then father took me away, and
I saw Mr. Irving no more till he called upon
me in New York. I was sick then and did
not go out,but I heard of a Miss Lennox who
was with the Irvings, and said to be very
beautiful, and that was you. "

"I was with the Irvings," Magdalen re-
plied, and Alice continued : "I fancied,
then, that Mr. Irving would eventually
marry you, and speculated a good deal upon
the matter. It seems so funny that i/ou are
here ! I do not understand it at all, or why
yuu should leave Millbank. Mr. Frank
Irving is the heir now, is he not ?"

Magdalen hesitated a moment, and then,
thinking it better to do so, told briftly of her
life at Millbank until that luckless day when
she discovered the will.

" After that Roger went to Schodick,"
she said, •' and I — I might have stayed
there, but I did not like Mrs. Irving's man-
ner toward me when she became the mis-
ti ~tss, and I could not be dependent upon
liank, and so I came away."

Alice knew that Magdalen was withhold-
ing something from her, and with a woman's

.'I"i

106

MILLBAMK ; OR,

wit guessed that it concerned Frank ; bu
she would not question her, and turned the
conversation into another channel, and talk •
ed of the books she had read and the
authors she liked best.

It was comparatively early when Ma^^da-
len went up to her room, a door of which
communicated with Alice's. This the latter
desired should stand open.

" I like to feel that some one is near me
when I wake in the night, as I often do,"
Alice said ; and then she added, " I shall be
obliged to leave you for a time, but do you
go straight to bed. I know you must be
tired. I shall come in so softly that you
will not hear me. Good-night."

She kissed Magdalen and then went from
the room and down the hall towards the
door, which Magdalen had heard open and
shut so many times. Magdalen was very
tired, and was soon sleeping so soundly that
she did not hear Alice when she came back,
but she dreamed there were angels with her
clad in white, and with a start she awoke to
find the moonlight streaming into her cham-
ber, and making it so light that she could
Fee distinctly the young girl in the adjoining
room was kneeling by the bed, her hands
clasped together and her upturned face
bathed in the silvery light, which made it
like the face of an angel. She was praying
softly, and in the deep stillness of the night
every whisper was audible to Magdalen, who
heard her asking Heaven for strength to
bear the burden patiently, and never to get
tired and weary and wish it somewhere else.
Then the nature of the prayer changed, and
Magdalen knew that Alice was thanking
Heaven for sending her to Beechwood.
*' And if anywhere in the world there are
still living the friends she has never known,
oh. Father, let her find them, especially her
mother, — it is so terrible to have no
mother,"

That was what Alice said, and Magdalen's
tears fell like rain to hear this young girl
pleading for her as she had never pleaded
for herself. She had prayed, it is true.
She alway^i prayed both morning and at
night, but they were mere formal prayers,
and not at all like Alice's Hers were
earnest — hers were heartfelt, and Magdalen
knew that she was speaking to a real, living
Presence; that the Saviour to whom she talk-
ed was there with her in the moonlit room
as reuUy as if she saw Him bodily.
Alice's was a living faith, which brought
Heaven down lo her side, and Magdalen
felt that there were indeed angels abiding
round about her, and that Alice was one of
them.

CHAPrER XXXVII.

LIFE AT BEECHWOOD.

The next morning was bright and beauti-
ful, as mornings in early October often are,
when the summer seems to linger amid
flower and shrub, as if loth to quit the
glories its own sunshine and showers had
created.

The mist fetill lay in soft clouds upon the
river and on the mountain sides when Mag-
dalen arose, and, leaning from her window,
drank in the bracing morning air, and ac-
knowledged to herself that Beechwood was
almost as beautiful as Millbank. She had
slept quietly, and felt her old life and vigour
coming back to her again as she hastened to
dress horself.

She had heard no sound as yet, except the
tread of a servant in the yard, and the bay-
ing of the Newfoundland dog up the moun-
tain path.

Alice was not in her own room. She mu«t
have dressed and gone out before Magdalen
awoke, and the latter was hesitating whether
to go down to the parlour or to remain
where she was, when Alice appealed, her
blue eyes shining brightly, and a faint flush
upon her cheek.

" I slept so well because you were here
near me," she said, as she linked her arm in
Magdalen's, and started for the dining-room.
As they passed through the hall, Magda-
len noticed at the farther extremity a green
baize door, which seemed to divide that part
of the hall from the other, and which she
knew b}' the location was the doer which she
had heard shut so many times. Where did
it lead to ? What was there behind it ?
W^hat embodiment of sorrow itnd pain was
hidden away in that portion of the building ?
That there was somebody there, Magdalen
was sure ; for, just as she reached the head of
the stairs she saw a servant girl coming up a
side staircase, bearing in her arms a silver
tray, on which was arranged a tempting
breakfast for an invalid.

"I shall know all in good time," she
thought, and she pretended not to see the
girl, and kept on talking to Alice until the
dining-room was reached, where Mr. Grey
and his sister were waiting for them. Both
seemed in unusually good spirits, and Mr.
Grey kissed bis daughter fondly as she
nestled close to him and smiled up into his
face with all the love of a trusting, affection-
ate daughter. The sight for a moment smote
Magdalen with a keen sense of desolation
and loneliness. Never had she known — never
could know — the happiness of a father's watch-
ttr.ove and care, and never had she felt its loss
as keenly as she felt it now, when she saw
the caressing tenderness which Mr. Grey be-

c
i

t
B;
tl
A
m
tl
it

lei

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kei

ine:

mii

but

neg

ed i

his

med

disa

of e:

men

and

seen

used

ving,

tion

Mr. (

and (

ly shi

super

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luome

he rer

had «

Schod

one tl

writte

rected

longed

finally

tone, '

there, j

he live

"N(
home,
you km

Mage

ROGER IRVING'S WARD.

\ !

atl-
are,
mul

the

had

I the
Vlag-
Aow,
d ac-
was
e hatl \

igour
led to

pt the
ebay-
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3 must
ndaleii
hethtr
remain
sd, her
it flush

are here
• arm in
ig-room.
Magdar
a green
hat part
hich she
-^hich she
lere did
lind it?
lain was
ilding ?
agdalen
head o£
[ing up a
a silver
;empting

jie," she
I gee the
until the
Ir. Grey
Both
[and Mr.
as she
J into his
iffection-
|nt smote
esolation
h — never
I's watch-
lit its loss
I she saw
iGrey be-

stowed upon his daughter and the eagerness
with which it was returned. They were
both very kind to her, and treated her more
like a guest than one who had come to them
as a hired companion.

It was a delightful day for driving ; and
after breakfast was over, Alice asked for the
carriage and took Magdalen to all her favour-
ite resorts, down by the river and up among
the hills, where she said she often went and
sat for hours alone. They were firmer friends
than ever before that drive was over, and
Alice had dropped "Miss Lennox " for the
more familiar " Magdalen," and had asked
that she should be simply " Alice," and not
that formal " Miss Grey."

That afternoon Magdalen wrote a short
letter to Hester Floyd, telling her where she
was, explaining how she chanced to be there,
and going into ecstasies over the loveliness
and beauty of Alice Grey, but never hinting
at Mr. Grey's identity with the man who
had tempted Jessie to sin. It was as well to
keep that to herself, she thought, inasmuch
as the telling it would only awaken bitter
luemories in Roger's heart. Once she deter-
mined not to speak of Roger at all,
but that would be too marked a
neglect, and so she asked to be remember-
ed to him, and said she should never forget
his kindness to her, or ciase to regret the
meddlesome curiosity which had resulted so
disastrously for him. She made no mention
of either Mrs. Walter Scott or Frank. She
merely said she left Millbank at such a time,
and expressed herself as glad to get away, it
seemed so changed from the happy home it
used to be in other days.

"Mrs. Hester Floyd, Care of Roger Ir-
ving, Esq., Schodick, N. H.," was the direc-
tion of the letter, which Magdalen gave to
Mr. Grey, who was going to the post-office
and offered to take it for her. Very narrow-
ly she watched him as he glanced at the
superscription, and she half-pitied him when
she saw his lips quiver and turn pale for a
moment as he read the name of a place w^ ich
he remembered so well. Once in his life he
had sent letters to that very town, and the
Schodick post-mark was not an unfamiliar
one to him. Now she to whom he had
written was dead, and be held a letter di-
rected to the care of her son. How he
longed to ask something concerning him, and
finally he did so, saying in a half indifferent
tone, "Schodick? — I once spent a summer
there, and I have heard of Mr. Irving. Does
he live in the village ?"

" No, sir, he lives at his mother's old
home. They call it the Morton farm. Did
you know his mother, Jessie Morton ?"

Magdalen put the question purposely, but

regretted it when she saw the look of intense
pain which flitted across Mr. Grey's face.

"I knew her, yes. She was the most
beautiful woman I ever saw," he replied, and
then he turned away and walked slowly
from the room with his head bent down, as
if his thoughts were busy with the past.

The days succeeding that first one at
Beechwood went rapidly by, and each one
found Magdalen happier and more contented
with her situation as companion of Alice,
who strove in so many ways to make her
feel that she was in all respects her equal,
instead of a person hired to minister to her.
Indeed, the hired part seemed only nominal,
for nothing was ever required of Magdalen
which would not have been required of her
had she been a daughter of the house and
Alice her invalid sister. They rode together,
and walked together, and read together, and
slept togesher at last for Alice would have
it so, and every morning of her life Magda-
len was awakened by the soft touch of
Alice's hand upon her cheek, and the kiss
upon her brow.

To Magdalen this was a new and blissful
experience. At Millbank she had always
been alone, so far as girls of her own age
were concerned, and Alice Grey seemed to
her the embodiment of all that was pure and
beLutiful, and she loved her with a devotion
that sometimes startled herself with its iu-
tenseness. The mystery, if there was cup,
was very quiet now, and though Alice went
often down the hall and through the
green baize door, she never looked as sad
and tired when she came back as ^he had
done on that first day at Beechwood. M r.
Grey, too, frequently passed the entire even-
ing wiih the young girls in the parlour, where
Magdalen, who was a very fine ieader, read
to them aloud from Alice's favourite au-
thors. But atter the first night she was
never asked to aing. Alice often requested
her to play, and they had learned a
few duets which they practised together,
but songs were never mentioned, and Mag-
dalen would have fancied that there was
something disagreeable in her voice were it
not that when alone with Alice among the
hills and down by the river, whither they
often went, her companion aluays insisted
upon her singing, and would sit listening to
her as if spell-bound by the clear, liquid
tones.

At last there came a letter from Hester
Floyd, who, in her characteristic way, ex-
pressed herself as pleased that Magdalen
" had grit enough to cut loose from the
whole coboodle at Millbank, and go to do
for herself. I was some taken aback," Ehe
wrote, " for I s'posed by the tell that you
was to marry that pimpin, white - faced

108

MILLBANK ; OB,

I'' *

Frank, aud I must say ^ou showed your
good sense by quittin' him, and doia for
yourself. Me and Roger would have been
^lad for you to come here ; that is, I b'leeve
Roger would, though he never sed nothia'
{larticklar. He's some altered, and don't talk
BO much, nor 'pear so chipper as he used to
do, and I mistrust he misses you more'n
he does his money. He's a good deal looked
up to, both iu the town and in the church,
where they've made him a vestryman in
place of a man who died, and 'twould seem
as if he'd met with a change, though he alius
was a good man, with no bad habits ; but
he's different like now, and don't read news-
papers 8unday,nor let me get upan extra din-
ner.and he has family prayers, which is all well
enuff, only bakiu' moruiu's it does hender
some. "

Then followed a description of the house
and Schodick generally, and then a break of
two days or more, after which the old lady
resumed her pen, and added : " Roger's got
a letter from Frank, askin' if he knew where
you was. He said you left while he was
away unbeknownst to him, and had never
writ a word, by which I take it you and he
ain't on the fust ratest terms. Roger talked
the most that day that he has in a month,
and actually whistled, but then he'd just
gained a suit, and so mabby it was that,
though I b'lieve it wouldn't do no harm if
you were to drop him a line in a friendly way.
It's leap-year, you know."

This was Hester's letter, over which Mag-
dalen pondered long,M'ondering if the old lady
could have suspected her love for Roger, and
how far she was right in thinking he missed
her more than his money. Magdalen read
that sentence many times, and her heart
thrilled with delight at the thought of being
missed by Roger ; but from Hester's sugges-
tion that she should write him a friendly
line, she turned resolutely away. The time
was gone when she could write to Roger
without his first h&ving written to her.
After that interview in the library, when
his kisses had burned into her heart, and his

Eassionate words, "Magda, my darling," had
urned into her memory, she would be less
than a woman to make the first advances.
Concessions, if there weio any, must come
from him now. He knew how sorry she was
about the will ; he had exonerated her from
all blame iu that matter; and now, if he had
any stronger feelings for her than that of u
friend, he must make it manifest. This was
Magdalen's reasoning over the Roger portion
of Hester's letter, and then she thought of
Frank, aud felt a nervous dread lest he
might follow her, though that seemed hard-
ly possible, even if he knew where she was.
Still, he would undoubtedly write as soon as

he could get her address from Roger, and she
was not at all disappointed when, a week or
two after the receipt of Hester's letter, Mr.
Grey brought her one from Belvidere, di-
rected in Frank's well-knownhand writing.
After obtaining her address he had written
at once, chiding her for having left so sud-
denly without a word for him, and begging
of her to return, or at least allow him to
come for her, and take her back to her
rightful place at Milbank.

"I can't imagine what freak of fortune
led you to the Gieys," he wrote. "It i8
the last place where I could wish you to be.
Not that I do not respect and esteem Miss
Grey as the sweetest and loveliest of wo-
men, but I distrust both her father and her
aunt. For some reason they have never
seemed to like me, and may say things dero-
gatory of me ; but if they do, I trust it will
make'no difference to you, for remember you
have known me all your lifetime."

Magdalen wrote next day to Frank, who,
as he read her letter, began for the first time
to feel absolutely that she was lost to
him for ever. He was sure of that, and for
a moment he wept like a child, thinking how
gladly he would give up all his money if
that would bring him Magdalen's love.
But it was not in his nature to bo unhappy
long, and he soon dried his eyes and con-
soled himself with a drive after his fast
bays, and in the evening when his mother
mentioned to him the names of two or three
young ladies from New York who were com-
ing to Millbank for the holidays, and asked
if th "ire was any one in particular whom he
wished to invite, he mentioned Miss Burleigh,
whom he had met in Springfield. And so
Bell was invited, and hastened to reply that
she should be delighted to come, but feared
she could not, as "pa never liked to be sepa-
rated from his family at that time, and sis-
ter Grace would be home from school, and
could not, of course, be left behind."
She was so sorry, for she 'had heard such
glowing accounts of Millbank, and its grace-
ful mistress, that she ardently desired to
see and know both, but as it was she must
decline.

As might be supposed, the invitation to
Miss Bell Burleigh was repeated, including
this time the Judge and Grace, both of whom
accepted, Grace for the entire holidays, and
the Judge for a day or two, as he did not
wish to crowd. And so Christmas bade fair
to be kept at Millbank with more hilarity
than ever it had been before. Every room
was to be occupied. Bell aud Grace Burleigh
taking Magdalen's, for which Frank ordered
a new and expensive carpet and chamber
set, just as he had ordered new furniture for
many of the other rooms. He was living on

EOGER IRVING'S WARD.

109

Jtion to
llading
1 whom
aad
lid not
ie fair
hilarity
room
irleigh
Irdered
\amber
ire for
[ing on

a grand scale, and had his income been what
his principal was he could scarcely have
been more munificent or lavish of his money.
He was at the head of every charitable ob-
ject in Belvidere and Springfield, and gave
so largely that his name was frequently in
the papers which he sent to Magdalen, with
his pencil mark ai>out the flattering notices;
and Magdalen smiled quietly as she read
them and then showed them toAlice, vLo
once laughingly remarked, *' Suppose you
refer him to Matthew vi. 2. It might be of
some benefit to him. " And that was all the
good Frank's ostentatious charity did him in
that direction.

Meantime the tide of life moved on, and
Christmas came, and the invited guests ar-
rived at Millbank, where there were such
revellings and dissipations as the people of
Belvidere had never seen, and where Bell
Burleigh's bold, black eyes flashed and
sparkled and took in everything, and saw so
many places where a change would be de-
sirable should Millbank ever have another
mistress than Mrs. Walter Scott.

Guy Seymour, too, had his holidays at
Beechwood, which seemed a difl'erent place
with his great, kind heart, his quick appre-
ciation of another's wants, his unfailing wit
and humour, his merry whistle and exhilar-
ating laugh, his good-natured teasing of
Auntie Pen, and his entire devotion to Alice,
who was rather reserved toward him, but
who talked a great deal of him to Magdalen
when they were alone, and cried when ati last
he went away.

CHAPTER XXXVIII.

. THE MYSTERY AT BEECHWOOD.

A day or two after Guy's return to New
York there came to Beechwood a tall, mus-
cular-looking woman, whom Alice called
Mrs. Jenks, and for whom Magdalen could
see no possible use. She did not consort
with the family, nor with the servants, and
Magdalen often met her in the upper hall,
and saw her disappearing through the green
baize door. It was about this time, too, that
Mr. Grey left home for Cincinnati, and the
household settled down into a state of quiet
and loneliness which, contrasting as it did
with the merry holidays when Guy Seymour
was there, seemed to both girls very hard to
bear.

Alice was unusually restless, and when at
last Guy wrote telling of a famous singer
who had just appeared in New York, and
asking them all to come down for a few days
and hear for themselves, she caught eagerly
at it, and overruling every objection, won
her aunt's consent to going. Magdalen was
to accompany them, and she was auticipat-

' ing the trip and what it might bring about,
for Hester Floyd had written that J\'v(jer was
in New York. But when the morning tixed
upon for their journey came she was sufl'er-
imi from a prevailing influenza which made
the trip impossible For her. She, however,
insisted upon Alice's going without her, and
so for a few days she was left alone in the
house, so far as congenial companionship was
concerned. Mrs. Jenks she never saw,
though she knew she was there; for as she
grew better and able to be about the
parlours and library she heard the servants
speak of the amount of wine she ordered with
her dinner, while one of them added in a whis-
per, "Suppose she should get drunk and
there should be a row, wouldn't wo be in
pretty mes8|? Nobody could control her. "

Magdalen was not timid, but ttfter this
she kept her door locked at night, while dur-
ing the day she frequently caught herself
listening intently as if expecting something
to happen. But nothing did happen until
one night when she went as usual to the par-
lour, where she sat down to the piano and
tried a new piece of music which Guy had
sent to Alice. Finding it rather difhcult,
she cast it aside and dashed off' something
more familiar to her. On the music stand
were piles and piles of songs, some her own,
soiue<Alioe's, and she looked them over, and
selecting one which had always been her
favourite, she began to sing, feeling much as
an imprisoned bird must feel when it finds
itself free again, for since her flrst night at
Beechwood she had never been asked to
sing with the piano. Now, however, she
was alone, and she sang on and on, her
voice, which had been out of practice so long,
gathering strength and sweetness until the
whole house was full of the clear, liquid
tones, and the servants, still dan dling over
their supper, commented upon the music and
held their breath to listen. One of them had
brought a lamp into the room before going to
her tea, and this with the fire in the grate
was all the light there was ; but it answered
every purpose for Magdalen, who enjoyed
the dim twilight and the flickering shadows
on the wall, and kept on with her singing,
while through the upper hall there came
stealing softly the flgure of a woman with
her white night-dress trailing on the carpet,
and her bare feet giving back no echo to her
stealthy footsteps. She had come through
the green baize door, and she paused there a
moment and turned her ear in the direction
whence she had come. But all was quiet.
There was no one watching her, and with
cunning gleam in her restless, black eyes, she
shut the door softly, then opened it again,
and went back down the long hall until she
reached a door which was partly ajar. This

1 ■,

?■ i

'^ll

MILLBANK ; OR,

she also shut, and turning the key took it in
Ler hand aud started again for the music
which had set her poor urain to throbbing,
and quiukeiied the blood in her veins until
every nerve was quivering with excitement.

"I am coming, oh, I'm coming. Don't
you hear mo as I come V sang Masdalen.
Trhile down the stairs and through tne hall
came the unseen visitor until she reached the
|)arluur door, where she stood for a moment
lu the attitude of listening, while hec eyes
were tixod upon Magdalen with a curious,
inquiring look.

Then they rolled restlessly about the
room, and took in every thing, from the pic-
ture on the wall to the tire in the grate, and
then went back again to the young girl, still
singing her song of summer. The music
evidently had a soothing effect upon the
poor, crazed creature, and her eyes were
soft and pk anant and moist with tears as she
drew near to Magdalen, who at lant felt the
hot breath upon her neck, and knew there
was some one behind her. There was a
violent start, then a sudden crash among the
keys, as Magdalen felt not only the breath,
but the touch of the long, white fingers,
which clasped her shoulder so firmly. She
could see the fingers as they held to her
dress, but only the outline of a human form
was visible, and so she did not scream until
she turned her head and saw the white- rubed
woman, with the long hair falling down her
back, the peculiar look of insanity in every
feature. Then a shriek, loud aud unearthly,
raus through the house, followed by another
and still another, as she felt the woman's
arm twining itself around her ueck, and
heard the woman's voice saying to her,
• What are you, angel or devil, th»t you can
move me so ?"

Roused by the terrific shrieks, the servants
came rushing to the parlour, where they
found Magdalen fainted entirely away, with
t'ae maniac bending over her and peering into
her face. When Magdalen came to herself,
she was in her own room, and the (;irl, Hon*
ora, who waited on her in the absence of
Pauline, was sitting by apd caring for her.
She did not seem inclined to talk, and to
Magdalen's inquiries, "Oh, what was 't,
and shall I see it again?" she merely re-
plied, " You'll not be troubled any more.
It was the fault of Mrs. Jenks. She drank
half a bottle of wine since noon aud is drunk
as a beast."

That was all the explanation Magdalen
could get, and as she recovered rapidly from
the effects of her fainting fit, she signified
her wish to be left alone ; but she did not
venture to the parlour again that night, and
she saw that both the doors leading from her
room and Alice's into the hall were locked

and bolted, too. Then she tried to reason
herself into a tolerable degree of calmness
and quiet, as she thought over the events of
the evening and wondered who the maniao
was.

"Alice's mother, most likely," she said,
and a great throb of pity swept over her
for the young girl whose life had been so
darkened and who had possibly never known
a mother's love any more than she herself
had done.

And then her thoughts went out after her
own mother, with a longing desire such as
she had seldom felt. Where was she that
wintry night ? Was she far from or was she
near to the daughter who had never seen
her face to remember it T Was she living
still, or was the snow piled upon her grave,
and would not Magdalen rather have her
thus than like the babbling maniac who had
startled her so in the parlour ? She believed
she would. In one sense Alice was more to
be pitied than herself, and she sat thinking
of the young girl and the ^shadow on her life
until the hre burned out upon the hearth,
and she crept shivering to bed. But not to
sleep. She could not do that, for the pecu*
liar cry, half human, half unearthly, which
from time to time kept coming to her ears,
and in which she recognized tones like the
voice heard an instant in the parlour before
consciousness forsook her. There was evident-
ly a great commotion throughout the house,
the servants running to and fro ;' but no one
came near her until the early dawn was
stealing into the room, and giving definite
shapes and forms to the objects about her.
Then there was a tap at her door, and Hon-
ora's voice said :

"Miss Lennox, will you come with roe
and Bee what you can do to quiet her ? She's
kept screeching for you all night, and Mrs.
Jenks, who is in her senses now, says maybe
you can influence her. Strangers sometimes
do. I'll wait outtide till you are ready.
You needn't be afraid, — she never hurt any-
body."

Magdalen trembled in every joint, and
her teeth fairly chattered as she hastened to
dress herself.

" It's because I'm cold ; there certainly is
nothing to fear," she thought, as she bound
up her hair under a net and knotted her
dressing-gown around her waist.

She had'never been through the baize door,
and as Honora held it for her to pass she felt
for a moment as if trespassing upon forbidden
ground. But the door swung to behind her.
ahe was shut in to a narrow hall, with two
doors on the right hand side, and one of
them ajar. The mystery she was going to
confront was beyond that door, she knew,
for a moaning cry of "Let me go out to

ROGER IRV1^0'S WARD.

Ill

was
efiuite
her.
Hon-

and
laed to

linly is
Ibonud
[d her

I door,
Ihe felt
aidden
Ld her.
th two
jne of
king to
Iknew,
lout to

her, I tell you," met her ear, and made her
draw a little closer to Honora, who said to
her, reassuringly, " There is nothing to fear ;
bho is perfectly harmless. "

" Yes ; but tell me, please, who it ist"
Magdalen said, clutching the arm of the girl,
who replied :

" Oh. I supposed you knew. It is Mrs.
Grey."

Magdalen's conjectures were correct, and
she went fearlessly up to the door, which
Houora opened wide and then shut behind
her, leaving her standing just across the
threshold in the room which held the Mys-
tery at Beechwood.

CHAPTER XXXIX.

MAGDALEN AND THE MYSIBRT.

A mystery no lonirer, but a living, breath-
ing, panting woman, with wild, rolling eyes,
masses of jet-black hair streaked with urey
streaming down her back, and long wnite
arms and hands, which beat the air helpless-
ly as she tried to escape from the firm grasp
of her attendant, Mrs. Jenks. It was Mag-
dalen's first close contact with a maniac,
and she drew back a step or two, appalled
by the wild outcry with which the woman
greeted her, and the desperate spring she
made toward the spot where she was stand-
ing. For an instant she was tempted to flee
fiom the room, but Mrs. Jenks had her pa-
tient under control by virtue of superior
stren^jtb. There was no escaping from the
vice-like grasp of her strong arms, and so
Magdalen stood still and gazed spell-bound
upon the terrible spectacle.

" Come nearer and see what effect your
speaking to her will have. She has asked
for you all night; she will not hurt you,"
Mrs. Jenks said, and Magdalen went up to
the poor, restless tossing creature, and sitting
down upon the bed took in her
own the hot hand which was extended to-
wa»"d her.

"Can I do anything for you, Mrs. Grey ?"
she said, softly caressing the wasted hand
which held hers so tighly.

Quick as lightning a gleam of anger shot
from the black eyes as the woman re-
plied :

" Don't insult me by calling me Mrs.
Grey. That name has been a curse to me
from the moment I bore it. Call me Laura,
or nothing 1"

" Well, then, Laura, can I do anything te
make you better ?" Magdalen said, and the
woman replied, " Yes, stay with me always,
and sing as you did last night when I thought
the angels called me ; and put your hand on
my head ; — feel how hot it is. There is a

lost baby's soul in there, burning up for my
sin."

She carried Magdalen's hand to her fore-
head, which was nut with fever and excite-
ment, and Magdalen could feel the blood
through the swollen veins.

"Poor Laura," she said, "poor sick wo-
man : I am so sorry for yun. I would
have «ome before if I had known you want-
ed me."

" Yes, but don't waste time in words. I'v«
had a plenty of those all my life. Sing !
sing ! sing 1 — that is what 1 want," inter-
rupted the crazy woman, and sitting on the
bed, with the hot hand grasping hers,
Magdalen tried to think what she
could sing that would soothe her excited
patient.

There was a trembling in her joints and a
chokihg sensation in her throat which seem-
ed to preclude the possibility of her sing-
ing, but she made a great effort to control
herself, and at last began the beautiful
hymn, "Peace, troubled soul," her voice
growing in steadiness and sweetness and vo-
lume as she saw the effect it had upon
poor Laura, whose eyes grew soft and
gentle, and finally rilled with tears,
which rolled in great drops down her sunken
cheeks.

Mrs. Jenks had relaxed her vigilance now,
and Laura lay perfectly still, liaceuing with
rapt attention to the sung, and keep*
ing her eyes rixed upon Magdalen's face,
as if there were some spell to hold them
there.

" Who are you ?" she asked, when the
song had ceased. "Where did you come
from, and what is your name ?"

I came to live with Alice. Y^ou know
Alice, Magdalen said — "she is your daugh-
ter,"

'.;;"Ye8, one of them; but not that one
over there in the cradle. Please give it a
little jog. I can't have my baby waking up
and crying, for that disturbs Arthur, and he
might semi it away to goat's milk and a wet
nurse. Give it a jog, please."

She pointed to the head of her bed, and
for the rirst time Magdalen observed a pretty
little rosewood crib, with dainty pillow-
cases, ruffled and fluted, ai^d snowy Mar-
seilles quilt, spotlessly while and clean. But
there was no infant's head upon the pillow,
no little hands outside the spread, or sound
of infant's breathing.

The crib was empty, and Magdalen
glanced inquiringly at Mrs. Jenks, who
said :

" You may as well rock it first as last.
She will give you no peace till you do. It's
a fancy of hers that there's a baby there,
and she sometimes rocks it day and night.

■I

112

MILLBANK; OR,

She is always qaiet when she is on that
tack, bntBotnetinieH tho baby sets out of the
cradle into her head, and then there is no pact-
fyiugher. Her tantrum isovernow,and,if you
are willing, I'll leave her with you a few mo>
ments. I shan't be out of hearing. My
room is across the hall."

She was evidently anxious to get away ;
and Magdalen, who would not confess to
any fear, was left alone with the crazy
woman. She had drawn the crib nearer to
her, and with her foot upon the rocker kept
it in motion, while^Xaura commenced a low,
cooing sort of lullaby of "Hush, my darling I
mother's near you !

The novelty of her situation, and the
wakefulness of the previous night, began to
have a strange eiTuct on Magdalen, and, as
she rocked the cradle to the sound of that
low, mournful music, it seemed to her as if
it were her own self^she was rocking — herself
far back in that past of which she knew so
little. There was a dizzy feeling in her
head, a humming iu her ears, and for a few
moments she felt almost as crazy as the
woman at her side. But as she became more
accustomed to the room and the situation,she
grew calmer and leas nervous, and could
think that it was better to reply to the
strange questions her companion sometimes
put to her.

" If a person killed something and didn't
know it, and didn't mean to, and didn't
know as they killed it, would God call them
a murderer, as he did Cain ? "

This was cue question, and Magdalen ro-
plied at random, that in such a case it was
no murder, and God would not so consider
it.

" Then why has He branded me here in
my head, where it keeps thump, thump 1
just like the beating of a drum, and where
it is so hot and snarled ? " Laura asked.
Then, before Magdalen could reply, she con-
tinued : "I did not mean to kdl it, and I
don't think I did. I put it somewhere, or
gave it to somebody ; but the more I try to
think, the more it thumps, and thumps, and
I can't make it out ; only I didn't— didn't
truly mean to kill it. Gh, baby I No, no !
I didn't 1 I didn't 1 "

She was sobbing in a pitiful kind of way,
and Magdalen moved her position so that
she could take the poor, tired, " twisted "
head upon her bosom, while she soothed and
comforted the moaning woman, softly
smoothing her tangled hair and asking her,
at last, if she would not like it brushed and
put up out of her way.

" lb will look nicer so," she said ; and, as
Laura made no objection, she brought the
brush and comb from a little basket on the
bureau, and then set herself to the task oi

hair, which had
since Alice went

combing out the matted
been sorely neglected
away.

" Allie will be glad to know I am so nice.
She likes me neat and tidy, but a woman
with a child to tend cannot always keep her-
self as she would," Laura s^id, when tho
hair-dressing was ended and Magdalen had
buttoned her night-dress, and thrown
around her a crimson shawl which hung
across the bed.

The woman herself was rocking the cradle
now, and sigualing Magdalen to be quiet, for
baby was waking up. To her there was n
living, breathing child in that empty cradle,
and as her warnmg " sh-sh '' rang through
the room, Magdalen shuddered involuntarily,
and felt a kind of terror of that crib, as if it
held a goblin child. Suddenly Mrs. Grey
turned to her and said :

" You did not tell me your name, or else
I have forgotten."

" My name is Magdalen Lennox," was the
reply, and instantly the black eyes Hashed a
keen look of curiosity upon the young girl,
who winced a little, but never turned her
r>wn eyes away from those confronting her
so fixedly.

"Magdalen," the woman said, " Magda-
len. That brings it back to me in part. I
remember now. That was the name I gave
her when she was christened, because I
thought it would please Arthur, who was
over the sea. He wanted to call Alice that,
but I was hot, and angry, and worried in
those days, and my temper ran very high,
and I would not suffer it, for out of Magda-
len went seven devils, you know, and out of
bis Magdalen went fourteen, I'm sure. She
was a beautiful woman, I heard, and ho
loved her better than he did me, — loved her
first when he was young. I found
it out when it was too late. His
mother told me so one day when she
couldn't think of anything else to torment
me with. The Duchess of Beech wood I She's
out under the snow now, and her monument
is as tall as the Tower of Babel. She was a
dreadful woman — she and Clarissa both ;
that was her daughter, and she just worried
and tormented and hunted me down, until I
went away."

Magdalen was gaining some insight into
the family history of the Greys, though how
much of what she heard was true she could
not tell. One thing, however, struck her
forcibly. She knew that poor Jessie Mor-
ton's second name was Magdalen, and from
some source she had heard that Mr. Grey
used frequently to call her by that name,
which he preferred to Jessie, and when Mrs.
Grey alluded to the beautiful woman whom
her husband had loved better than his wife.

she

reft

tin^

for

Alic

seen

•She

but

had

ravii

sat V

her I
<i

Luke

Mrs.

one 1

the w

you e

house,
«( 1'

I am ?

when

wrink]

close a

once, ;

shirts i

came I

table ai

Were tc

heavy

fiogs at

Ret me

t!iat da;

that, an

the hoU

dollar a

finger, a

and held

told me]

go with

not let n

and orde

name — a

me. I V

somethin

what's go

flowers ai

to the doc

not belie V

he wrote a

I ran awa

and had t

emerald ai

satin gown

and I look

me here to

and then

York, and

snubbed m(

thought I

much in Nt

cold and gi

ROGEK IRVING'3 WARD.

lit

ad
I at

ce.

lan

lor-

tho

had

jwn

ung

adle
, for
as a
idle,
augh
irily,
I if it
Grey

r else

IS the
ihed a

Ill her
ig her

at into
th how

could

[ck her

le Mor-

[d from

. Grey

name,
In Mrs.

whom

Ka wife,

she felt at ou'^e that it was Jessie to whom
reference was made— Jessie, who had unwit-
tingly made trouble in this family — Jessie,
for whom the father would have called
Alice, his first boru, and for whom it would
seem a later child was subsequently named.
She wanted so much to ask questions herself,
but a natural delicacy prevented her. She
had no ri^ht to take advantage of a lunatic's
ravings and pry into family matters, so she
sat very (juiet for a few moments watching
her patient, who said at last :

" Yes, that brings it back in part. St.
Luke's Church, and mother, and Mr. and
Mrs. Storms were sponsors, and we called
one Madeline, and the other Magdalen after
the woman that Arthur liked the best. Did
you ever see her ?"

" I've seen her picture. I lived in her
house," Magdalen repJied.

•' Tell me of her. Was she prettier than
I am ?— though how should you know that,
when you've only seen the gray -haired,
wrinkled, yellow hag thoy keep shut up so
close at Beech wood? But I was handsome
once, years ago, when mother made those
shirts for Arthur and I did them up, and he
came before they were done and sat by the
table and watched me, and said my hands
were too small and pretty to handle that
heavy iron — they would look better with
rings and diamondc, and he guessed he must
get me some. I wore a pink gingham dress
that day, and hr.ted ironme and sewing after
that, and wished I was a lady like those ai
the hotel where Arthur boarded,and I took a
dollar and bought a rinc and put it on my
finger, and the next time he came he laughed
and held my hand while he looked at it, and
told me he would get a better one if I would
go with him to the jeweller's. Mother would
not let me, and she had high words with him
and ordered him away and called him a hard
name — a villain, who only wanted to ruin
me. I was sick ever so long after that with
something in my head, though not like
what's got into it since. Arthur sent me
flowers and fruit and little cotes, and came
to the door to inquire, but still mother would
not believe him true. When I was most well
he wrote a letter asking me to meet him, and
I ran away from mother and was married,
and had the rings at last — a diamond and
emerald and the plain gold one — and a white
satin gown, and we travelled far and wide,
and I looked like a queen when he brought
me here to the Duchess and Lady Clarissa,
and then to Penelope, who lived in New
York, and wasn't quite so bad, though she
snubbed me some. I was not as happy as I
thought I should be, for Arthur stayed so
much in New York, and his mother was so
cold and grand and stiff, that I lay awake
8

nights to hate her, and when Alice was born
the Duchess sent lierout to nurse, because I
was low-bred and vulgar, and Arthur got
sick of me and stayed in Now York more
than ever, and left me to fight my way alone
with the dragons, and I got so at last that
/ did Jinht yowl. "

Her eyes were flashing fiercely, and Mag-
dalen, who had listened breathlessly to the
strange story, could readily imagine just how
that black-eyed, high-spirited creature did
fiof^t, as she termed it, when once she was
fairly roused to action. There were rago
*nd passion delineated in every feature now,
A^d her face was a bright purple as sho
hurled her inve^ stives against Arthur's
mother and sister Clarissa, who, it would
■oe. , had persecuted her so sorely,
and who were now " lying under the
snow."

" They gave me no peace day or night.
They took AUie away. They turned
Arthur against me ; they said I was low
and ignorant and poor, and finally they
hinted that I was crazy — made so by temper
— and that I would not stand, so I went
away ; and Arthur went east and I west to
mother, and the baby was born, which
Arthur knew nothing about, and mother
died, and the other baby died, and I was
alone, and went awhile to Mrs. Storms ; and
then I drifted back here. I don't know how,
nor when, nor where, nor what happened
after I left Mrs. Storms only I lost baby, but
I didn't kill it. Heaven knows I didn't. I
lost it, but Providence sent it back, so I can
see it, though nobody else does, and it's
there in the cradle, and I've rocked it ever
since, and worn the carpet through. Don't
you see the white spots ? Those are baby's
footpiints."

She leaned over the sii >f the bed and
pointed to the breadth of carpet which was
worn white and threadbare with the con-
stant motionof the crib. It was not tlie
first carpet she had worn out, nor the second,
for " she had rock to to Keep the baby
quiet, even if it didaunoy Arthur so," she
said ; and Magdalen's heart ached for the
poor, demented creature, while iuspite of all
his faults she pitied the man who was
designated as Arthur, and who must
suffer fearfully with such a wife. Laura's
story, so long as it pertained to her girlhood
and early married life, had been quite con-
nected and reasonable, and Magdalen gained .
a tolerably clear understanding of the matter.
Arthur Grey had accidentally found this
woman, who when young must have been aa
beautiful as she was poor and lowly born.
The obstficles thrown in his way had only
increased his passion, which finally out-
weighed every other consideration, and led

114

MILLBANK ; OR,

to A oUndestine marriaset wholly distasteful
to the proud mother and slaters, who had so
violetiuy opposed poor J»s»ie Morton. That
they had niatle Laura's life very uiihappv ;
that the Hckle husband, grown weary ol bis
unsophisticated wife, had cruelly neglected
her, until at last in desperation she had gone
away, Magdalen gathered from the story
toMso rapidly ; but after that she failed to
comprehend what she heard. The baby
M'hiuh Laura said had died, and the one
whioh she did not kill and which she had
christened Magdalen, wito Mrs. Storms as
»poiiBor, were enigmas which she could
not solve. It struck hei an a Htrange coinci-
dence that she heriielf and the lost baby of
the Greys should havebo'-ne tlie same name,
and for the same woman ; and she wondered
M'hat it was about that child which had
iiiruc-ted the mother so strangely and put
such wild fancies into her head. Her hand
had dropped from the cradle now, the rock-
ing had ceased, and the tired,
worn-out woman who had tosped and
Hhrieked and struggled the live-
long night, was falling asleep. Once, as her
heavy lids began to droop, she started up,
and reaching for Magdalen's hand said to
her, " Don't leave me 1 I am better with
you here. Stay and sing more songs to me
ubout the troubled soul. It makes me feel
as if I was in heaven."

She held MagdaUn's hand in her own, and
Mag<lalen saqg to her again, while the tears
rained from Laura's eyes, and rolled down
her faded cheeks.

" Let me cry ; it does me good," ohe said,
when Magdalen tried to soothe her. "It
cools me, and my head seems to gro-'' clearer
about the baby. It will come to me by and
by, what I did with her. Oh, my child, my
darling; God has surely kept her safe some-
where."

She was talking very low and slowl}', and
MHgdaleu watched her until the lipa ceased
to move, and the long eyelashes still wet
with tears rested upon the flushed cheeks.
She was asleep at last, and Magdalen, look-
ing at her, knew that she must have been
beautiful in her early girlhood when Arthur
Grey had won her for his bride. Traces of
beauty she had yet, in the regularity of fea-
tures,herwell-shaped head, her abundant hair,
with just a little ripple in it, her white fore-
head, and even teeth, which showed no signs
of decay. She was not old either, and Mag-
dalen thought how young she most have
been when she became a wife.

'* Poor woman ! her life has been a fail-
ure," sue said, as she drew the covering
aronad the shoulders and over the hands, on
on* of which the wedding ring and a superb
diamond was still shining.

Mrs. Jenka seemed in no hurry to resume
her post, and weary from her wakeful-
ness of the previous night, Magdalen settled
herself in the large easy chair by the bed,
and was soon so fast asleep, that until twice
repeated she did not hear Honors, who came
to tell her that breakfast was waiting for
her.

.CHAPTER XL.

A QLIMMKR OF LIUHT.

All that day Magdalen stayed with Mrs
Gray, who clung to her as a child clings to its
mother, and who was more quiet and
manageable than she had been in many
weeks. Mag<lalen could soothe and control
her as no one else had done since ohe left the
private asylum where her huabaud iia<i kept
her so long, and this she did by the touch of
her hand, the sound of her voice, and the
glance of her eye, which fascinated and sub-
dued her patient at once.

That night Mrs. Seymour and Alice came
home, accompanied by Guy. They had not
been expected quite so soon, and Magdalen
knew nothing of their arrival until Alice,
who had heard irom Honora what had trans-
pired during her absence, entered the room.
Mrs. Grey was sitting up in her large arm-
chair, her dressing gown and shawl carefully
arranged, her hair nicely combed, an<l a look
of content upon her face which Alice had
rarely seen. She was rocking still, with oue
foot on the crib and her eyes fixed on Mag-
dalen, who was repeating to her the Culprit
Fay, which she knew by heart, and to which
the childish woman listened with all the ab-
sorbing interest of a little girl of ten. At
sight of Alice there came a sudden gleam of
joy over her face, succeeded by a look of
tear as she wound both arms tightly arouud
Magdalen's neck, exclaiming :

"Oh, AUie, I'm glad you've come, but you
must not tr.ke Acr away. She deed me good.
I'm better with her. Say that she may
sUy."

There was a n^omentary look of pain in
Alice's eyes at seeing a stranger thus pre-
ferred to herself ; but that quickly,
passed, and stooping over her mother,
she kissed her tenderly, and said :
" Magdalen shall stay with you as lon({
as she will. I am glad you like her so well.
We all love Magdalen."

" Yes, and it's coming back to me. That
was baby's name, — the one I gave her to
please your father, and by and by I'll think
just where it is."

Alice shot a quick, inqmiring glance at
Magdalen, as if to ask how, much of their
family history her mother Lad revealed, but
Magdalen merely said :

mil

for

as I

vi»i

had

that

both

Goo

I kn(
\ M Mild a

' ■ it."

"I
to Ma
^ cam
for it.
known
toemU
She
the roo

an<l ev(

■atisficf

After

With th

to lea

in^ly, ..

•itsbegi)
Sheoall
that nan
^^agdale
the Way
*»eart thr
?yery tin
Mrs. Ure
first aylJa
Afr. Gr
«?era, of a
tiresome I
Ciucinnat
which • be
was some
portion of
pled in vaJ
»t was desi
for ever set
he should 8
torily adjua
«n'skind <
feat a note
Mn. Grey
Was what A
.. if ^o"ey

. \f you sue

jn keepioff h

out to show

services, I «,

your salary o

*• Alrt. Grey

ROGER IRVmO'S WARD.

115

\e
li-
ed
A,
ice
me
for

Mra
ioita
ami
mauy )
introl
[t the
I kept
ich of
id the
d Bttb-

I came
ad not
igdalen

Alice,
d trana-
B room.
ge arm-
larefully
id a look
,lioe had
with oue

,n Maat-
H Culprit

to which

1 the ab-
]ten. At

gleam of

^ look of

ly arouud

but you
ine good,
she may

If paiu in
thus pre-
quicfclyi
mother,
kd said ;
L as loose
^r 80 well.

16. That
Ive be^ to

]l'U think

I glance »t

L of their

ealed, but

" She ■eems to think there is a baby in the
cradle,— a bah^ whom the saya she loit or
iiiinlaid. It died, I suppose."

" Poor mother, she has sufTered so much
for that duad chihl," was Alice's only reply,
OH she stood caressing her mother's hair.

Tht'u fihe tried to tell her something of her
vittit to New York and tlie rare music she
had heard ; but Mrs. Grey did not care for
that, and naid a little impatiently, " Don't
bother me now ; I'm listuuing to the story.
(j)o on, MttKdalen. He was jult going to
reliuht his lamp, and I want it over "-^t.h, for
I know how ho felt. My lamp has gone out.
and all the falling stars iu Heaven can't light
it."

" I see vou are preferred to me," Alioe said
to Magdalen ; " but if you do her good — and
I can see that you have already — I l>lesB you
for it. Poor, dear mother, who has never
known a rational moment since I can re-
memlter. "

She kissed her mother again, and then left
the room, while Mag<lalen weut on with her
fairy tale, parts of which she repeated twice,
an<l even thrice, before her auditor was
BatisKed.

After that Magdalen spent most of her time
with the poor lunatic, wno, if she attempted
to leave her, would say so plead-
ingly, " Stay with me, Magda ; don't go.
It B beginning to come back?'
Shecalled her Ma(jda altogether, and though
that name was sacred tu Roger's memory,
Magdalen felt as if there was a blesRiug in
the way the poor invalid spoke it, and her
heart throbbed with a strange kind of feeling
every time she heard the "Ma-ag-da," as
Mrs. Urey pronounced it, dwelling upon the
first syllable, and shortening r.p the last.

Mr. Grey was still absent, glad, it would
seem, of an excuse to stay away from the
tiresome burden at home. He had gone to
Cincinnati to look after some property
which ■ belonged to his wife, and as there
was some ditticulty in proving his claim to a
portion of it, which had more than quadru-
pled in value and was now in great demand,
it was desirable that all doubts should be
for ever settled ; so he wrote to Alice that
he should stay until matters were satisfac-
torily adjusted. Ho had heard of Magda-
len's kind offices in the sick room, and he
Bent a note to her, adjuring her tc stay with
Mra. Grey so long as her influence over her
was what Alice had reported it to be.

" Money can never pay you," he said,
" if you Bucceed iu doing her 'good, or even
in keeping her quiet for any length of time ;
but to show you that I appreciate your
services, I will from this time forward make
your salary one thousand dollars per annum
aa Mrs. Grey's ftttendant.' It is strange the

influence which some people have over her,
and strange that you, a girl, can control her,
as Alice says you do. Perhaps she recog-
nices in yoa something that exuts iu herself,
and so, on the principle that like Huhdiies
like, she is subcfued by you. The very Hrst
time I saw you, there was sometliiiig in your
eyes and the toss of your head which re-
minded me of her as she was when I first
kne«r her, but of course the rbsumblance
L'oes no further. I would wcop tears of
fdood sooner than have your ynuiig life and
bright beauty darkened as Lauras has
been."

When Magdalen received this note she
was in a state of wild excitement, and hard-
ly realized what Mr. Grey had written, un-
til she reached the part where he spoke of
her resemblance to his wife.

" Something in your eyes and the toss of
your head."

She read that sentence twice, and her eyes
grew larger and darker than their wont us
Hhe toosaw Aer<i«(/*in the motions, and ges-
tures, and even looks of the mauinc, whose
talk that very day, whether true or f Hid", had
sent through her veins a thrill of eonjuctuie
so sudden and wonderful, that for an instant
she had felt as if she were fainting. Alice
had talked but little of her mother's in-
sanity. It was a great griof to them ull, she
had said, and she had wished to keep it from
Magdalen as long as possible, fearing lest the
fact of there being a lunatic in , the house
might trouble her, as it had done others
who came to Beechwood. Of the fancy
about the baby she had never offered any
explanation, and Magdalen had ceased . »
think much of it, except as the vagary of a
lunatic, until the day when she received the
note from Mr. Grey. That afternoon Laura
had talked a great deal, fancying herself to
be in the cars, and sometimes baby was with
her and sometimes it was not.

" That is the very last I remember," she
said, apparently talking to herself. " I took
thetrainatCincinnati,andbaby was with me ;
I left the train, r,ni baby was not with me.
I've never seen her since, but I think I gave
her to a boy. It wae ever so long before I
got home, and everything was gone, bag-
gage, baby and all. I can't think any
more. "

Her voice ceased at this point, and Mag-
dalen knew she was asleep ; but for herself
she felt that she too was going mad with tho
suspicion which kept growing iu intensity.as
she recalled other things she had heard from
Mrs. Grey, and to which she bad paid no
attention at the time. Once she arose, and
going to the glass studied her own face in-
tently. Then she stole to the bedside of^he
sleeping woman and examined her features

116

MILLBANK { OR,

ono l.y one, M-hilo all tho time the faintneii
WM iiicroaniiig at hor heart, and the blood
noumod con({valing in her veinii. There was
no trace of colour in her faoe that night
when she uiut the family at dinner, and
Alice halfatirunk from the eyes which fasten-
ed ao greedily upon her and scarcely left her
face n moment.

" What is it, Magdulen ?" she asked after
dinner when they were standing alone before
the parlour tire, and she felt the burningeyes
stdl ou her. " \N'hat is it, Magcialen ? Is
aiiythinu the matter ?"

Then Magdalen's arms twined themseWes
around the young girl's neck in an embrace
which bad somothiug almost fierce in its
fervour.

" Oh, Alice, my darling; if it could be, I if
it could be !"

That was the answer Magdalen made, and
her voice was choked with tears, which fell
in torrents upon Alice's upturned face.

" Kxcuse me, do!" she added, releasincc
the young girl, and recovering her compo-
sure. " 1 am nervous to-night. I can't go
back to your mother. I shall be as mad as
she is in a^ little while. Will you take my
place in her room just for this evening ?"

Alice aHseuted readily, and after a few
moments she loft the parlour, and Magdalen
was alone. But she could not keep quiet
with that great doubt hanging over her and
that wild hope tugging at her heart. Ra-
pidlyf'tihe walked up and down the long
parlours, while the perspiration started
about her forehead and lips, which were so
ashy pale that they attracted the attention
of Mrs Seymour, when she at last came in,
bringing her crocheting with her.

" Are you not sick, Miss Lennox ?" she
asked in some alarm ; and then Magdalen's
resolution was taken, and turning to the
lady, whose shoulder she grasped, she said,
•' Please come with me to my room, where
we can be alone and free from interruption.
Th "e is something I wish you to tell me."
A' -i without waiting for an answer she led
the astonished woman into the hall
and up the stairs in the direction of her own
room.

CHAPTER XLI.

MRS. SEYMOUR AND MAGDALEN.

Having locked the door, Magdalen bronght
a chair to Mrs. Seymour, and said :

•' You are out of breath ; sit there, but
let me stand. I should suffocate if I were
sitting down. I feel as if a hundred pair of
lungs were rising in my throat."

She was paler now than when Mrs. Seymour
first met her in the parlour, and her eyes
flashed and sparkled and glowed as only one

pair of eyes had ever done lioforo in Mrs.
Seymour's presence, and for an instant u
doubt of tne youna girl's sanity croHHu<l
thas lady's mind, and slie ulancud uneasily
at tho door, as if contemplating an escape.
Hut Magdaiuu ^"as standing lictore hur, and
Magdalen's eves held her fast. She dared
not go now if she could, and she asked nor*
vously what Miss Lennox wanted of her.

" 1 want to you tell me what it is about
the child of whom Mrs. Grey talks so niucli.
Wan there a child born r.fter Alice, suy
nineteen or twenty years ago, and did it die,
or was it lost ; and if so, when, and how ;
and was Mrs. Grey here when it was born,
or was she somewhere else, in Cincinnati or
vicinity. Tell me that. Tell me all about
it."

Mrs. Seymour was very proud and haugh-
ty, and very reticent with regard to their
family matters, especially tho matters per-
taining to her brother's marriage and his
wife's insanity. She never talked of them to
any one except Guy, from whom she had no
sec-ets ; and her most intimate friends, the
Dagous and Draggons of New York society,
knew nothing except what rumour told
them of the demented woman who made
Beechwood a prison rather than a para-
dise. How, then, was she startled,
and shocked, and astonished, when this
young girl — this hired companion for her
niece — demanded of her a full recital of
what she had never told her most familiar
friends. Not anked for it, but demanded it
as a right, and enforced the demand with
burning eyes and the half-menacing attitude
of one determined to have her way. Ordi-
narily Mrs. Seymour would have put this
f;irl down, as she termed it, and given her a
esson in good breeding and manners, but
there was something aoout her now which
precluded all that, and after a moment slic
said :

" Your conduct is very strange. Miss Len-
nox. Very strange indeed, and what I did
not expect from you. I suppose I may be
permitted to ask your right to a story which
few have ever heard T"

"Certainly," Magdalen replied; "ques-
tion my right as much as you like, only tell
me what I want to know. H aa there a
child, and did it die ?"

" There was a child, and it did die," Mrs.
Seymour said: and Magdalen, nothing daunt-
ed, continued : " How do you know it died ?
Did you see it dead ? She says she left it iu
the cars; she told me so to-day. Oh, Mrs.
Seymour, tell me, please, what you know
about that child before I, too, go mad !"

Magdalen was kneeling now before Mrs.
Scymour,on whose lap her hands were clasp-

«»<
m

lit

bl,
in
Di(
tini

ttlCl

UMll

/or J
((

nati
had i
heiuj
teen
died i
after,

h "^
nappei

alone !
waaM

Scymo
rope— {

trouble

cinnati,

the deal

Whose h

"^e>

exclaim*

know ce

^eft it in

f .boy; tl

him."

''Who
-*Jrs, Sev

"/amtL
minded y
■Alice au(
too, can
woman in
Her eye
looked up
Itself upon
a thousauc
peynjour m
look in Ala
"«»•. and as
and eager, i
resembJanc'i
when she fi
to herself t
''It is ve
.—though th
Jess a mys
'*nd she tu
you niinj te
having been

ROGER lUVING'S WARD.

117

Ir».
t I*

i»iiy

ft 1)0.

ftiul

uer-

r.
ibout

, B»y

bow ;

bovn,

iftti or

about

bRU);b-
to tbeir
rB per-
Mul bis
tbem to
bad no
nds, tbo
society,
our told
lu made
ft para-
Btartled,
^ben tbis
[1 for ber
recital ot
1 familiar
[landed it
land witu
o attitude

y. Or'^|-
;e put tbi9
riven ber a
amers, but
now wbicb
loment sbo

Miss Len-

k'bat I did

1 may be

Jtory wniob

bd ; " ^les;
5, only tell
^8 tbere a

J dio," Mrs.
Ibing daunt-
Vwitdied^
Lbe left it m
Oh, Mrs-
you know
)mad 1
before Mrs.
, were clasp-

ed, ftnd her beautiful face wa« all aglow with
bor exciteinuiit aa ahe coutinuod :

"I knowaijirl who was left in iho cara
somewhere in Ohio almo. t nineteen years
ago:— left with a young bo^, and the young
mother, who took the train at Cincinnati,
never oame bock, and ho could not find her,
(To thinka aiie wa« crazy. She had very
black hair and eyes, he said, and was dressed
in mourning. Perhaps it was Mrs. Grey.
Did she come from Cincinnati about that
time ? It was April, 18—, when the bnby I
mean was Inft in the cars."

Mrs. Seymour was surprised out of her
UHinl reserve, and when Magdalen paused
for her reply, she said :

*• My brother's wife came from Cincin-
nati in May, not April; but we thought she
had been a long time on the road. As to its
being 18 — , I'm not so sure; but it was nino-
teen years ago in May, I know, for husband
died tho next July, and mother the winter
after."

" And what of the child T And how did it
bappen that Mrs. Grey was left to travel
alone ? Where had she been, and where
was Mr. Grev ?" Magdalen asked, and Mrs.
Seymour replied: ''My brother was in Eu-
rope — sent there by unhappy domestic
troubles at homo. Laura had oeen in Cin-
cinnati, and came back to Beechwood after
the death of her mother and the child, of
whose birth we had never heard. "

" Never heard of its birth 1" Magdalen
exclaimed. "Then, perhaps, you do not
know certainly of its death. She says she
left it in the cars with a boy, and Roser was
a boy; tho child I told you of was left with
him."

"Who was that child, and where is she?"
Mrs. Seymour asked, and Magdalen replied:
"/ am that child, and didn't you say I re-
minded you of some one. Didn't Guy and
Alice and your brother say the same; and I,
too, can see the resemblance to that crazy
woman in myself."

Her eyes were full of tears, and as she
looked up at Mrs. Seymour her head poised
itself upon one side just as Laura's had done
a thousand times in the days gone by. Mrs.
Seymour was interested now; that familiar
look in Magdalen's face had always puzzled
her, and oa she saw her flushed, and excited,
and eager, she was struck with the strong
resemblance she bore to Laura as she was
when she first came to Beechwood, and more
to herself than to Magdalen she said :

"It is very strange, but still it cannot be
— though that child business was more or
less a mystery to me. Miss Lennox,"
and she turned to Magdalen, " would
you mind telling me the particulars of your
having been left in the car ?"

V^ory rapidly Magdalen repeated tho story
of her duRurtiou as she had hunrd it from
Hogcr, while Mrs. Seymour liatoiied iiituntly
and seemed a gootl ileal moved by thu du-
soriptiou given of the mother.

" Was there nothing about you by which
vou might he idcntitiod ? That in, did thcv
K(>ep no article of dress ?" she askuti,
and Magdalen sprang up, exclaiming, "Yes,
—the dress I wore ; a criniHon dvluiiie, dot-
ted with black. I have it with niu now."

"A crimson delaine, dotted witii black,"
Mrs. Seymour repeated, while her hands
began to tremble nervously and hor voice to
grow a little unsteaidy. "There waH mtch Ok
dress in I^ura's satchel ; baby's drean, she
told us, and Alice has it in hor drawer."

" Got it, got it, ond wo will compare the
two," Magdalen cried, and sei7.ing Mrs.
Seymour's hand she dragged rather than led
her to tho door of Alice's room ; then going
hastily to her trunk, she took from it tho
dress which she had worn to Millbank.
"Here it is," she cried turning to Mrs. Sey-
mour, who Clime in with another dress, at
sight of which Magdalen uttered a wild
exultant cry, while every particle of colour
faded from Mrs. Seymour's face, aud her
eyes wore a frightened kind of look. The
dresses were alike I The same material, the
same size, the same style, except that Mrs.
Seymour's was low in the neck, wliilo Mag-
dalen's was high, and what was still more
confirmatory that they had belonged to the
same person, the buttons were alike, and
Magdalen pointed out to tho astonished
woman the same peculiarity about the but-
ton holes and a portion of the work upon tho
dress. The person who made them must
have been left-handed, as was indicated by
the hems, where left-banded stitches woulil
show so plainly.

"lam astonished, I am confounded, I am
bewildered, I feel like one in a dream," Mro.
Seymour repeated to herself.

Then she droppe<l panting into a chair,
and wiping the perspiration from her face,
continued :

"The coincidence is most remarkable;
the dresses art alike ; and still it is no proof.
Was there nothing else ? '

" Yes. Do you recognize this ? Did you
ever see it before ? " Magdalen said, holding
up the little locket which had been fnsteneil
about her neck when she came to Millbank.

Mrs. Seymour took it in her hands and
examined it closely, then passed it bade
with the remark, "I never saw it before, to
my knowledge."

"But th»* initials, 'L. G.' — did you notice
those?" Magdalen continued ; and tlien Mrs.
Seymour took the locket again, and glancing

118

MILLBANK; OB,

at the lettering whispered rather than said
aloud :

•" L. G. '—that BtaudB for Laura Grey. It
may be. I wish Arthur was here, for I
don't know what to think or do."

" You can at least tell me about the
child," Magdalen persisted, and Mrs. Sey-
mour, who by this time was considerably
shaken out of her usual reticence and reserve
replied, •' Yes, I can do that, trusting to
your honour as a laily never to divulge what
I may tell you of our family affairs. My
brother always had a penchant for pretty
faces, and while he was young had several
affaires da cieur which came to nothing.
When ho was forty, or thereabouts, he went
to Cincinnati, where he stayed a long time,
and at last startled us with the announce-
ment of his marriage with Laura Clayton, a
young girl of seventeen, whose beauty, he
said, surpassed anything ne had ever seen.
She was not of high blood, as we held blood,
he wrote, but she was wholly respectable,
and pure, and pweet, and tolerably well
educated, and he wanted us to lay aside oiir

t)rejudice8 and receive her as his wife should
)e received. I was in favour of doing so,
though perhaps this feeling was owing in
part to my husband's sensible reasoning, and
partly to the fact that I didnot live here then
and would not be obliged to conie in daily
contact with her. My home was in New
Y'^ork,and so I only heard from time to time of
the doii) rs at Beechwood. It tianspired after-
wards that Laura's mother was a widow,
who lived much by herself, without relatives
am! only a few acquaintances. She had
<;oine from New Orleans the year before, and
bouifht a house and quite a large lot of
laiid in the suburbs of Cincinnati. There
was Spanish blood in her veins, and it shows
itself in Laura. The mother did some plain
sewing for Arthur, who in that way saw the
daughter and finally married her against her
mother's wishes. I think Mrs. Clayton was
a sensible woman, or perhaps she feared that
Arthur only sought her daughter's ruin ; for
she tried to keep them apart, and so made the
matter worse and drove them into a clandea-
tine marriage. Mother and sister Clarissa
were here then. Clarissa was never married,
and from her I learned the most I know
about the trouble. She deeply regretted
afterward the course they pursued toward
Laura, whom they did not understand, and
whose life they made so wretched with their
coldness and pride. She was naturally
higli-spirited, but she bore patiently for a
long time whatevei' they laid upon her, and
tried, I believe.to please them in all things.
Clarissa herself told me that the girl never
really turned upon them, except as her eyes
would sometimes blaze with anger, until

Alice was born, and mother wanted her put
out to a wet nurse, who lived so far away
that for Laura to see her baby every day
was impossible. Then she reT)elled openly,
and there was a terrible scene, but mother
carried her point, as she usually did when
she had Arthur where she could talk to
him. Laura fought like a tigress when the
last moment came, and mother took the
baby from her by force, and then locked her
in her room for fear she would go down to
the river and drown herself, as she threat-
ened to do. Arthur was in New Y''ork, or I
think he would have interfered when he saw
how it affected Laura. I was sorry for the
poor girl when I heard it from Clarissa. I
had lost a dear little baby and could sympa-
thize with Laura. I think it makes a woman
harder and less conciderate not to have a
husband or children of her own, and Clarissa
had neither."

Mrs. Seymour forgot that her mother had
both husband and children, and that there-
fore tiie thing which would excuse Clarissa
could not be applied to her. But Magdalen
did not forget it, and her fists were involun-
tarily clenched as if to smite the hard old
woman who had torn Laura's baby from
her.

" Does Alice know this?" she asked, and
Mrs. Seymour replied, " She does not, of
course. There could be no reason for har-
rowing up h^r feelings with a recital of the
past, and I hardly know why I am telling
yoii the story so fully as I am. "

*• Never mind, go on ; Magdalen ex-
claimed eagerly, and Mrs. beymour con-
tinued :

" After the baby went away a kind of
melancholy mood came over Laura, and she
would sit for hours and even days without
speaking to any one ; then she v.ould have
fits of crying, and again was irritable and
quarrelsome, so that it was a trial to live
with her. After two or three months she
ceased to speak of her child, and w'lCn
Arthur offered to take her to see it she flew
into so tierce a passion that he took the
next train to New York and left her with
mother.

" It was a habit of his to go away from
anything disagreeable, and most of his
time was spent from home. He was
always very fickle. To possess a thing was
equivalent to his tiring of it, and even be-
fore Alice's birth he was weary of his young
wife ; and so matters went on from bad to
worse till Alice was nearly a year old, and
Arthur began to talk of going ;> broad, while
Laura proposed a separation, or that she
should be allowed to go to Cincinnati while
her husband was away. They would all be
happier, she said ; and his mother and

f,
a

fo
Se

bu
be
no
noj
reg
on
go.
and
Lau
but
Bee{
in hi
she I
suspi
ough
did u
vised
woult
her m
from I
wrote
baby ^
old, ai
not cai
taking
Alice,
of his
and tol
again t(
he wou.
ply for
wrote s
and.tha
to Beecl
she Was
arrived
Clarissa,
coming,
been wet
lost, and
little sat<
and a fev
»Q black,
dead, bui
birth the'
sisted tl]
it. She V
speaking i
not alway
her mutte
one ia

her put
r away
ery day
openly,
mother
id when
talk to
?hen the
ook the
;ked her
down to
I threat-
irk, or I
1 he saw
r for the
rissa. I
I sympa-
Ei woman

have a
Clarissa

ther had
at there-
Clarissa
lagdalen
involun-
hard old
by from

ked, and
s not, of

1 for har-
al of the
,m telling

alen ex-
lour con-

% kind of
, and Bh«
s without
mid have
;able and
al to live
onths she
tnd w' icn
b she flew
took the
her with

,way from
it of his

He was
thing was
I even be-
his young
im bad to
r old, and
oad, while

that she
oati while
mid all be
)ther and

Clarissa favoured the vl&n TZu

ed, and went with hL i! Arthur consent-
and settled a Zr v aMow ''^^ *° Cincinnati,
at her motherWonLstTo.rKVr" ^'«'-'*°^

-^r-tshaSJestomTel^^bU^^^^^^^^^

foroil\i:^;l^^^^^^ Bee her baby be.

Seymour replied :^^''"° ^^'^' «"dMrJ.

bul' ^"'too"r*IiUle''nor'''"S.^* *« "^^^ ^ouse,
belonged to tho S'.rt? f"^''• '^"'^ «*'J ^
now she was crazv k '^'l''"''- Rethink

not suspect ft at tle^ime"' fl'^'"' ^^^^^ ^id
regret whatever when TfK //'P.''*'^»*'^lno

on the contrary sremedrJ"'' ^^' ^^'' but.
go. He sailed^'Lr Eurni''^^ '^^ ^*^' ^'"^
and was gone a year"^ XT' "^«'''
Laura wrote to him ouitp m if' ^^ *"»'«•
but never held Tnv pL ^" "^^ ^^ «''«*.
Beechwood. Af erTwhn?""''*"^" ^'tb
in her letters/and wTp„ fT ^*' * break
«be told him sJmethlrof*' t't l'^^ ^''ote
«"8piciou at the t^me ofi^/i "^^''^ t^ bad no
o^ght to have comT back fnt'''"!^^'"^- ««
c^d not. though he sent w^"' *^""' ^"* be
vised her to riturn f^R f '"^''^^^ ^nd ad-

ber mother.she said - ITiTA ^° f**^ ^'tb
from her for three oVfrmr 'it*'"^ "« '"ore
wrote a fe^ hu'rie^f luL'^Tf^'' ^^«° «be
baby Maaeline died when sL^"'"F ^'"^ ber
old. and adding that she n- '^'''^ .""■ "^^^^^
not care, as it would save^ir'/lf'*.^^" ^""^^
taking the child from Y " ^^^ *''0"ble of

Alice? That rr;7hta"irt1el;*' ''^^'^
of his duty, and he ^^.f i • ,*,*^ » sense

aud told hVr he was 8o7rv ^'"^ ^. *« ber
again to return to BeeC'^' J"*^ u'^^'l^'^ ber
be would join her To f^ ', "^H^"^ be said
ply for a ling th';e Ind l^,''*^ ^'^ not re-
wrote she said thS )Z KT ** ^^ sbe
and.that after vLi?L^afw''''K' ^*« ^^H
to Beechwod. Thel^^ITi^^^ **^ g«big
she was here at Beechwood \^'^ ^'•«'" be?
arrived wholly une™!*?', "^^^'^ «be had
Clarissa, who dkl ?ot ti^*'?''''^"' ^""^
coming, and who udged thaT«H*^** '^^ ^»«
beeu weeks ou thi rofd n'^t *"««' bave
lost, and she had nothin., ^^f baggage was
little satchel, iuwhioh^ "^'^^ ber but a
?nd a few other arS^s ^%f ^^'^^^ ^ress
'n black, and told them h """'J'^^^^d
dead but said nothinATth^K-'T,'''^"'' ^»8
birth they had nevrKJ I '^1' "^. ^^ose
Slated that Arth»^ T ,,' ^be havms in-
it. She wLt ty"'JXV^7t tell the^'of

speaking uuless 8pc?kea to! ^r:'^^y^.nevev
not always answer Occjln^n *\T '^^ ^'^
her muttering to herseff n "^ *5^^ ^^^''d
one is safe. They will "' " ^«*^' and
^ win never tind it

ROGER IRVINO'S Wa6d.

ber fleirr^rthe^^^^rhSr?.'^- '^^^^ -^h
return till U^^a, hid Lpr;' ""^ did „,.t
In aU that time she hl.i « " ^*""« a week

Clarissa s.i.l to her. « YouJ f ,'*"?"' a«d
i^aura. Would y„J Jite ?' ^^^^f ^^ bere.

Jpr^toherfeet^and^t^JesX^;-;,^

for tieZby '"tUl A' '''*"«"l' «"d she raved
but that only mile ^erT '^'"""S^* *" bir
came perfectly furiou«'tePr";K*'^*^ «»>« '^^'-
"ot the baby whom "ho hid L'f^"'" '^^' ^^^
Bheinsisted upon t.eir fild ^"^*' ^^^ *bom
t/Janssa wrot« ..<■ « °'

hastened bom^tdl g'TsVo'th"'^''",''' -^-
at their wit's end. and h « ^^f ^ *"^ ^'^'cr
and calling continua ly f . ' tT« 1 '^'"^ "^'^-^^
lostorhij: That was her^*?3^ she had
— lost, or hid or i^fT constant themn

did his best to ;„:; :tTS"'"." ' ^^Sr
^as dead, and askin,. if ^^ ^.^^ ^^''the baby

ber writing to him about i^ 1°°* '^'"em.
good. Her reply was Vlt ^"'^ '* ^'d no
'O'^eisdead.auJoneisnoT'^' '^' ^^"^« ••

w^^"E.^f7t:;^^«nt-g those
way. « One is dead InT 1^' -^^^^ '^^^'^''.g
never from that ti.. ; ZKhTu '' ''^* ' ' '-^"d
al moment. Hunti L out AI. ?""" * '•^^'"•'•
took It to her room f J* '^,''°? '.«'*adle. she
night, sayin., her hwf i T^"'^ '* day and
raving fea.iuIJyTf tl e fl -'^ "^^^ '« it, and
the room. ^ "'^ ^*""Jy made a no se hi

a"ieftr"r!tf;;^;^-b^y. He likes
could not have tl e«e , . "'^' ^"'J' as ho
sought them elsewhe 'rndT" ^.""««' ''«
almost over the worid r-^^^^'^^y^Ued
been m a private asrium S"^ ^^"''^ has
the time we were abroa'd • f .^"' *'^^'-« '"^H
turn Alice he..ed ,T^J l'""} ^^ter our re.

aliowedtocom^^, Beecltoi/'^u^^'- *" '>«
b-ght her back, anrtnt^^^^^^^^

'^cS^:^^f^^^rr.sr..
my husband was ,?lV^*'' ^"'b) wing. a„

world, I came here to' o ""'J ^ «^""« >« tte
and Alice. PoTgi f , ''Sj'\% ^"X brother
sad one, though she k . ^ ^'^ bas been a
paratively notidi g o ' the""*^'^^' °' ««'»■
trouble between hf'r IrJl "^^^^ ^^^^'^^'^^'c

obUdwhichdiedwra"ft^^«i;5^^^^^^^^

^ 1

120

MILLBANK ; OR,

old had lived, how old would it have been
when Mr. Grey came home ? "

Mrs. Seymour could not tell, for the reason
tht>t in her letter to her husband Laura did
not give the date of its birth, but, as nearly
as they could judge it must have been nine or
ten months old, possibly more.

"Yes," Magdalen said; "and the dress
in the satchel, — did it never occur to you
that it could not have been made for a four
weeks' old baby? It was meant for a larger
child. And did you never think there might
be a meaning in the words, ' One is dead,
and one is not,' Mrs. Seymour ?" and Mag-
dalen grew more earnest and vehement.
" There must have been two children instead
of one — twins, one of whom died and the
other she left in the cars. I know it, I be-
lieve it. I shall prove it yet. She has al-
ways talked to me of two, and one she said
was Madeline and one was Mau'dalen, and
Mr. Irving told me that the woman in the
cars called me something which sounded
like Magdalen. Don't you see it? Can't
you understand how it all might be ?"

Mrs. Sejmour was confounded and be-
wildered, and answered faintly, " Oh, I
don't know ; I wieh Arthur was here."

"I am going to him," Magdalen exclaim-
ed, starting to her feet, — "g'>ing at once,
and have him help me solve this mystery.
Alice must not know till I come back, and
not then if I fail. I shall start for Cincin-
nati to-morrow. A woman can often-
times find out things which a man can-
not. Do you think your nephew will go
with me ?"

She talked so fast, and with so much as-
surance, that Mrs. Seymour was insensibly
won to think as she did and assent to what-
ever she suggested ; and the result was that
in less than half an hour's time Guy, who
had been invited up to Magdalen's room,
had heard the whole of the strange story.
He believed it, and endorsed Magdalen at
once, and hurrahed for his new cousin, and
winding his arm around her waist waltzed
with her across the room, upsetting his Aunt
Pen's M'ork-baeket, and when she remon-
strated he caug'it her in his other arm and
took her with him in his mad dance. Ex-
hausted, panting, and half-indignant at her
scapegrace nephew. Auntie Pen released
herself from his grasp, and after a time Mag-
dalen succeeded in stopping him, but he
kept fast hold of her hands, while she ex-
plained what she wanted of him, and
asked if he would go with her.

" Go with you ! Yes, the world over,
ma belle cousin," he said, and greatly to the
horror of prim Mrs. Penelope, he sealed his

Eromise to serve her with a kiss upon her
row.

Mrs. Seymour was shocked, and half
doubted the propriety of sending Magdalen
oflF alone with Guy ; but Magdalen knew
the kias was given to , Alice as her possible
sister rather than to herself, and so did not
resent it.

They were to start the next day, but it
was thought best not to let Alice know of
the journej until morning. Then they told
her that a matter of importance, which had
recently come to Maedalen's knowledge,
made it necessary for her to go to Cincin-
nati, and that Guy was going with her.
Alice knew they were keeping something
from her, but would not question them, and
without a suspicion of the truth she bade
Magdalen and Guy good- bye, and saw them
start on their journey to Cincinnati.

CHAPTER XLII.

IN CINCINNATI.

Mr. Grey was breakfasting in that leisure-
ly, luxurious kind of way which he enjoyed
so thoroughly. His morning papers were on
the table beside him. He had glanced them
through, and read every word in them about
poor Laura's property, which was now secured
to her and her heirs for ever. Hj had iic-
ceeded in making his claim clear, and Laura
and her heirs were richer by some thirty
thousand dollars than they were when last
the crazy woman was in the city. To a man
with nearly half a million, thirty thousand
dollars were not so very much ; but ■ Mr.
Grey was glad to get it, and had decided
that it should be invested for Alice, just as
his breakfast appeared, and in despatching
that, he forgot the city lots and houses, and
the days when he had gone so often to one
of them, now a long time torn down, to make
room for a large and handsome block. He
had finished his first cup of coffee, and was
waiting for his second, when a hand was
laid familiarly upon bis shoulder, and Guy
Seymour's handsome face confronted him.

" Why, Guy, how you frightened me !" he
said. " Where did you come from? Is
anything the matter at home ? Is it Alice ?"

She was nearest his heart, and he asked for
her first, while his cheek paled for a mo-
ment ; but Guy quickly reassured him.

There was nothing the mat ter with Alice ;
nothing the matter with any one, he said.
He haa come on business, and as soon as
Mr. Grey was through with his breakfast he
would like to see Tiim alone. Then Mr.
Grey proceeded with his coffee and mutton
chop, and omelette and hot cakes, and Guy
grew terribly impatient and nervous with
waiting. Mr. Grey's appetite was satisfied
at last, and he invited Guy to his room and
asked what he could do for him. Guy had

ROGER IRVING'S WARD.

lii

alf
len
lew
ible
not

it it

T of

told
had
dge,
icin-
her.
hing
and
bade
them

jiaure-
ijoyed
ere on
1 them
1 about
lecured
ad . nc-
L Laura
I thirty
len last
, a man
Lousand
.t ■ Mr.
decided
as
Itchinj?
tea, and
to one
to make
,k. He
id was
td was
id Guy
Ihim.
he !" he
? I8
lAlice!"
Isked for
a mo-
1.

Alice ;
le said.
Isoon as
ifast he
ken Mr.
1 mutton
id Guy
|u8 with
satistied
lom and
luy had

the story at his tongue's end. He had re-
peated it to himself several times, so as to be
sure and make himself understood, and after
half an hour or so he was understood, and
Mr. Grey knew why he was there, and who
was with him. To say that he was startled
would convey but a faint idea of the effect
Guy's story had upon him. Laura's ravings
about "the one that was dead and the
one tiiat was not, " had come back to him
with a new meaning, and helped to prove the
tivin theory correct, and he was struck
dumb with amazement, and tried in vain to
speak as some question he wished to ask
presented itself to his mind. He could not
speak, his tongue was so thick and lay so
heavy in his mouth, while the blood rushed
in such torrents to his head and face that he
plucked at his cravat as if to tear it off, so
he could breathe more freely, and made a
iQotion toward the window for air.

" Apoplexy, it has almost given me that,"
he whispered as the fresh air blew gratefully
upon him, and he drank the water Guy
brought to him. Then leaning his head
against the back of his chair, he said : "I
am greatly shocked by this story you have
told me. It seems reasonable and may be
true, though I do not deserve it. I've been
a villain, a rascal. I abused and neglected
Laura ; I ought to have come home when
she first wrote about the baby, and should
have done so but for that devilish trait of
mine, to follow a pretty face. I had an
Italian woman in tow and it blunted every
other feeling, and when I heard the child
was dead I did not care so very much,
though I wrote to her kindly enough ; and
now, to have this .[jreat good come so sud-
denly upon me is too much, — too much," —

Ouy believed in Magdalen, and his belief
had so coloured his story that Mr. Grey be-
lieved in her, too, at first. Then a doubt
began to creep into his mind, as was very
natural, and he asked, " Where is she, and
how does she propose to prove it ?"

" She is in No. — . She wishes to see you
first. Will you go to her now?" Guy said ;
and Mr. Grey arose, and leaning on Guy
started for the room where Magdalen was
waiting for him.

^ hen the first great ahock came upon lier
Magdalen had thought only of Alice, the
darling sister it might be, and of the poor
worn-out wreck which, though a wreck,
might be her mother still, and her heart had
gone out after them both and enfolded them
with all a daughter's and sister's love, but
in this sudden gush of affection Mr. Grey
had bad little part. So great had her ex-
citement been, and so rapidly had she acted
upon her convictions, that she had scarcely
thought of him in any other capacity than

that of her employer. But as she sat wait-
ing for him, there suddenly swept over her
the consciousness that if what she hoped was
true, then he was her own father, and for a
moment she rebelled against it as against
some impending evil.

" Iloger is his sworn enemy." she whisper-
ed faintly, as her mind M'ent back to the
time when Roger had cursed him as his
mother's ruin. "Roger wjll never forgive
my being his daughter," she thought,
and for an instant she wished she
had never told her suspicions to a
humr,n being, but had kept thorn locked
in her own bosom. Then she thought of
Alice, and that comforted her, and made her
calm and composed whei. she heard the
knock at her door and saw Guy coming in
with Mr. Grey.

He was very pale, and came toward her
with an eager, questioning look in his eyes,
which scanned her curiously. She had
risen, and was standing w itli her hands lock-
ed together, her head unconsciously poised
upon one side, and her body bent slightly
forward. It was Laura's attitude exactly.
Laura had stood just this way that night she
met him outside her mother's house and he
persuaded her to the clandestine marriage.
Save that there was about Magdalen more
refinement, more culture, and a softer style
of beauty than had ever belonged to Laura
Clayton, he could have sworn it was the
Laura of his mature manhood's love, or pas-
sion, who stood upon the rug by the fire, her
dark eyes meeting his with a wistful, earnest
gaze. In an instant he forgot his doubts ; —
his faith was strong as Guy's, and he reached
his arm toward her, and his lips quivered as
he said :

" You are so much like Laura that you
must be my child."

She knew he expected her to go to him,
but Jessie and Laura, and the uncertainty as
to herself and his right to claim her, rose up
a mighty barrier between them, and she
made no movement towards him ; she only
said :

It is not sure that I am 'your child. We
must prove it beyond doubt," and in her
voice there was a tone which Mr. Grey un-
derstood.

She knew Laura's story. Penelope had
told her, and she resented the injury done
to one who might be her mother. It was a
part of his punishment, and he accepted it,
and put down the tenderness and love
which kept growing in his heart for the beau-
tiful girl before him.

" No, it is not proved," he said, " though
I trust that it may be. Tell me please, your
own story as you have heard it from Mr.
Irving, and also what you wish me to do."

ill

il'j.

122

MILLBANK ; OR,

He had heard the whole from Guy, but
the story gained ne*- force and reality an
told by Magdalen, whose eyes and face and
gestures grew each moment more and more
like Laura Clayton as she was years ago.
Guy had forgotten the locket, but Magdalen
did not, and she showed it to Mr, Grey, who
examined it closely, then staggered a step or
two towards her. and steadied himself against
the mantel, as he said :

" It wan Laura's. I remember it perfect-
ly and where I bought it. I gave it to her
myself. My likeness was in it then. You
see it has been taken out," and he pointed to
the inside of the ornament, from which a pic-
ture had evidently been removed. " Mag-
dalen, I do not need stronger proof. Will
you let me call you daughter ?"

The tears were streaming down his face,
and Magdalen felt herself beginning to relent,
but there must be no miscake — no shadow on
which to build a doubt hereafter. She
could not take her place in the hearts of
that family na a rightful daughter of the
house and tlien suddenly be displaced by
some other claimant. She must know to a
certainty that she was Magdalen Grey, and
she replied :

" I am not satisfied ; we must investigate
farther than we have. Your wife talked of
a Mrs. Storms who was sponsor for her baby.
Did you ever know it was baptized ? Did
she ever write you to that effect ?"

"Never. Sheonly said that baby Made-
line was dead," Mr. (irey reyjlied, and after a
moment's hesitation Magdalen continued,
" Tell me, please, if you ever wished to give
Alice another name than the one she bears^
and did your wife oppose it ?"

•' Mr. Grey's face was scarlet, but he an-
swered promptly, —

*' I rf<(Z propose calling Alice after a dear
friend of mine whose second name was Mag-
dalen."

" Then Mrs. Grey was right so far,'
Magdalen rejoined; " and may ha'''e been
correct in her other stptements to me also.
She told me one was Madeline, and that to
please you she called the other " Magdalen,'
after the friend for whom you wished Alice
named, and that a Mr. and Mrs. Storrns
were sponsors. Do you know any such
people ?"

Mr. Grey did not, and Magdalen conti-
nued ;

" We must find them. Is it of any use to
inquire in the vicinity where Mrs. Grey once
lived ?"

" None whatever. Every house has been
pulled down, and every family gone," was
the unpromising answer, but Magdalen was
not disheartened.

"The christening must have been in

church. Can you tell which one it was likely
to be ?"

Mr. Grey thought it was St. Luke's, as
Mrs. Clayton was an attendant there. They
might

He did not finish the sentence, for Magda-
lien started quickly, exclaiming :

"There must be a parish register, and
there we fhall find it recorded, and possibly
trace Mrs. Storms. Let us go at once to the
rectory, if there is one."

Her bonnet and shawl were on in a trice,
a carriage was called, and the three were
soon on their way to the house of the Rev.
Henry Fowler, Rector of St. Luke's. He
was a young man, who had only been there
for a year or two, but Magdalen's beauty
and excitement enlisted his sympathy ab
once, and he went with them to the church
and took from a dusty shelf an old worn-
looking volume, wherein he said was recorded
the births, deaths, and baptisms of twenty
and twenty-five years ago. It was Magda-
len who took the book in her own hands, an<l
sitting down upon the chanuel steps with
her bonnet falling back from her flushed face
and her white lips compressed together,
turned the pages eagerly, while the three men
stood looking at her. Suddenly she gave a
cry, and the three came near her.

"Look," she said, " it's here. There was
a child baptized," and she pointed to the re-
cord of the baptism of " Magdalen Laura,"
daughter of Arthur and Laura Grey. Spon-
sors, Mr. and Mrs. James Storms, Cynthi-
ana, Kentucky."

The suddenly a cloud passed over her
face as she said sadly, "But there is only
one. Where is Madeline f

" Turn to the deaths," Guy said, aud with
trembling fingers Magdalen did as he bade
her, but found no trace of Madeline.

Only Mrs. Clayton's death was recorded
there, and the tears gathered in Magdalen's
eyes and dropped upon the register as she felt
that her hopes were being swept away. It
was Guy who comforted and reassured her
by suggesting that Madeline might have died
before the christening, and Magdalen caught
eagerly at it, and springing up exclaimed,
"Yes, and they neglected to record her
death ; that's it, I know ; we will find this
Mrs. Storms ; we will go at once to Cynthi-
ana. Is it far ? Can we reach it to-day ?"

It was not very far, the clergyman said.
It was on the railroad between Cincinnati
and Lexington, but he did not believe she
could go that day, as the tram was already
gone.

It seemed an age to wait until the morrow,
but there was no help for it ; and Magdalen
passed the day as best she cuuld, and when
the morning came and they started for C} u-

ROGER mVING'S WARD.

123

-y

la-
nd
Ay
he

ce,

ere

,ev.

ere

ity

■ at

irch

orn-

rdeil

enty

igda-

an 'I
witli

facii
ther,
emeu
ave a

3 was
ae re-
mra,"
Spou-
^nthi-

thiana, she was almost sick with excitement
which increafted more and more the nearer
she drew to Mrs. Storms, who was to con-
firm her hopes or destroy them for ever.

her
3 ouiv

I with
bade

jrrow,

^(lalen

when

Ir Cyn-

CHAPTER XLIII.

IN CYNTIIIANA.

"GEORGE p. STORMS & CO.

DEALERS IN

DRY GOODS, GROCERIES & PROVI.
SIGNS."

That was the sign which our travellers
saw after landing at the station in the little
town of Cynthiaaa. Magdalen was the first
to see it, and the first to entev a low room
where a young man of twenty-five or more
was weiching a codfish for a negress with a
blue turban bound around her head.

Magdalen was taking the lead in all
things, and Mr. Grey and Guy let her, and
smiled at her enthusiasm and the effect she
produced upon the young man. He was not
prepared for this apparition of beauty, in so
striking contrast to old Hannah and her cod-
fish, and he blushed and stammered in his
reply to her question as to whether " Mrs.
James Storms was a relative of his, and
lived near them."

"She is my mother, and lives just down
the street. Did you wish to see her T" he
said, and Magdalen replied :

" Yes; that is, if she is the Mrs. Storms I
am after. Is she a church woman, and has
she ever been in Cincinnati?"

"She is a church woman, and has been in
Cincinnati," the young man said, and then
he followed Magdalen to the door and point-
ed a second time to his mother's house, and
stood watching her as she sped like a deer
along the muddy street, leaving Mr. Grey
and Guy very far behind her.

A very respectable-looking woman answer-
ed Magdalen 8 knock, and inviting her to en-
ter, stood waiting for Mr. Grey and Guy,
who had just reached the gate.

It was Magdalen who did most of the
talking -Magdalen, who, without taking the
chair offered her, broke out impetuously,
"Are you Mrs. James Storms, and did you
years ago — say nineteen or twenty — know a
Mrs. Clayton, in Cincinnati, and her daugh-
ter. The woman, who seemed to be natur-
ally a lady, cast a wondering glance at Mag-
dalen, and replied: Mrs. Grey — Laura they
called her ? '

"I am Mrs. Storms, and I knew Laura
Clayton, or rather Mrs. Grey. Art you her
daughter ? You look like her as I remem-
ber her."

Magdalen did not answer this question,
but went on vehemently :

" Were you much with Mrs. Grey, and
can you tell me anything about her starting
for her home in New York, and if she had a
baby then, and how old it was, and what
dress did it wear? Try to remember, please,
and tell me if you can."

Mrs. Storms was wholly bewildered with
all these interrogatories of a past she had
not recalled in years, and looked inquiringly
at Mr. Grey, who was standing by Magda-
len, and who said with a p*r.ile :

" Not quite so frst. You confuse the
woman with your rapid questions. Ask her
one at a time; or perhaps it will be better
for me to explain a little first. "

Then as briefly as possible he repeated
what he thought necessary for Mrs. Storms
to know of the business which had brought
them there, and asked if she could help
them any.

For a moment Mrs. Storms was too much
surprised to speak, and stood staring, first
at Magdalen and then at Mr. Grey, in a
dazed, nelpless kind of way.

" Lost her baby — the child I stood for !
Didn't have it when she got home, nor her
baggage either ! it takes my breath away !
Of course she was crazy. I can see it now,
though I did not suspect it then. I only
thought her queer at times."

" Yes, but tell us; begin at the begin-
ning," Magdalen exclaimed, too impatient
to wait any longer. And thus entreated,
Mrs. Storms began :

"I knew Mrs. Clayton in New Orleans,
before she moved to Cincinnati, or I was
married and came here. I had seen Laura
when a little girl, but did not know much
of her until she came home after her mar-
riage. Then I saw her every time I was at
her mother's, which was quite often, con-
sidering the distance between here and Cin-
cinnati, and the tedious way we had then of
getting there by stage. My husband, who
is dead now, and myself were sponsors for
her baby, whom she called Magdalen."

" Was there one or tvo children ? Tell
me that first, please," Magdalen said, and
when Mrs. Storms replied, "She h&d two,
but one died before it was christened," she
gave a sudden scream, and staggered a step
towards Mr. Grey, who, almost as white and
weak as herself, laid his hand with a convul-
sive grasp upon her shoulder and said, "Two
children ! twins ! and I never knew it !"

" Never knew it !" Mrs. Storms repeated.
" 1 wrote it to you myself the day after
they were born. I happened to be there,
and Laura asked me to write and tell you,
and I did, and direct "-d my letter to Rome."

" I never received it, which is not strange,

124

MILLBANK; OR,

as I journeyed so much from place to place
and had my mail sent after me," Mr. Grey
rejoined ; uud Mrs. Storms continued, " I
remember now that after my letter was sent
Laura grew worse, — crazy like, we thought,
— and seemed sorry I had written, and said
the Greys did not like children and would
take her babies from her, and when the liitle
sickly one died she did not seem to feel so
very badly, anl said it was safe from the
Greys. She was always queer on that sub-
ject, though she never said a word against
her husband. She had plenty of money, and,
I supposed, was going back to Beechwood as
soon as you returned. I was not with her
when Mrs. Clayton died ; it was sudden, —
very, and I only went to the funeral. Laura
told me, then, she was going home, but said
she wished first to visit me. I consented,
of course, though I wondered that she did
not go at once. She came to me after the
funeral, and stayed some time with her child,
and appeared very sad and depressed, and
cried a great deal at times, and then, again,
was wild, and gay, and queer."

" But the child,— the little girl— how did
she look ?" Magdalen asked.

And Mrs. Storms replied :

" She was very healthy and fat ; a pretty
creature, with dark eyes, like her mother's,
and dark hair too. A beautiful baby I
called her, who might easily grow to be just
like you, miss."

She was complementing Magdalen, whoso
face flushed a littled as she asked :

" Do you remember what the child wore
when she went away ? Would you know
the dress if you saw it ?"

Mrs. Storms hardly thought she would.
Mrs. Grey was in mourning, but about the
baby she did not know.

'•Was the dress like this?" Magdalen
asked, taking from her satchel the dress she
had worn to Millbank, and the one found in
Laura's bag.

Mrs. Storms looked at them a moment,
and then a sudden gleam of intelligence
broke over her face as she exclaimed :

*' I do remember them perfectly now. 1
made them myself for Mrs. Grey.

" And you are left-handed ?" interrupted
Magdalen.

" Yes, I am left-handed. You know that
by the hems ? You would make a capital
lawyer," Mrs. Storms said, laughingly.
Then, excusing herself a moment, she left
the room, but soon returned, bringing a
patch-work quilt, made from bits of delaine.

Conspicious among these were blocks of
the same material as the two spotted dresses.
To these blocks Mrs. Storms called Magda-
len's attention.

" I ha'1 a baby then, a boy, Charlie ; he is

dead now, and these are pieces of the dress
Mrs. Grey gave to him. She bought enough
for him and her baby too, and 1 made them
both and then found there was still material
for another, provided the sleeves were short
and the neck low. So I made that at the
very last, and as Laura's trunk was full she
put it in her satchel. "

Mr. Grey's hand deepened its grasp on one
whom he now knew to be his child beyond
a doubt, and who said to Mrs. Storms :

" Did she go from here alone to Cincinnati,
and about what time ?"

" It was in April, and must have been
nineteen years ago. I know by Charlie's
age. I had hurt my ankle and Mr. Storms
was going with her, but at the last some-
thing happened, I don't remember what,
and he did not go. She said a great many
harsh things about her mother-in-law and
sister,and about their taking her baby from
her, and the night before she went was
more excited than I ever saw her, but I did
not think her crazy. There was no railroad
then, and she went by stage, and
from Cincinnati sent me a note
that she was safely there and
about to start for the East. I wondered a
little she never wrote to me, but fancied she
was with her grand friends and in her hand-
some house and forgotten poor folks like us,
and I would not write first. Then I had a
great deal of trouble pretty soon.

"Charlie died, and Mr. Storm's lungs
gave out, and I wept to Florida with him
and buried him there, aud after six years
came back to Cynthiana. So you see there
was a good deal of one thing and another to
put Laura out of my mind."

Many more questions were asked and
explanations and suggestions made until it
was preposterous for Magdalen to require
more testimony. She was Mr. Grey's
daughter, — she believed it now, and her
heart throbbed with ecstasy when she re-
membered Alice, whom she already loved so
much. There was also a feeling of unutter*
able tenderness and pity for the poor crazy
woman who had suddenly come up in the
capacity of her mother. She could, aye, she
did love her, all wrecked and shattered aud
imbecile as she was, but she could not so
soon respond to the aflfection which showed
itself in every lineament of Mr. Grey's face
and thrilled in the tone of his voice as he
wound his arm around her neck, and draw-
ing her closely to him said, with deep
emotion :

" Magdalen, my daughter, my darling
child 1 Heaven has been better to me than
I deserved."

He stooped and kissed her lips, but she
did not give him back any answering caress'

except as she Bv^rIZ7Z^~~, — —

e'nbrace. He fdt the t?A *° ^""^'^ ^^r in hi,

was n" opportunity thtfnr'.'^'^' ''"* ^^^re

t^e subject. The tmfn *"^ ^^rds upon

,r«"lfi take them to P- ^*' «°"""g which

^ttle further conver8a?oT°°fK*'v/"^ «^ter a

Ve-d -esoon^rthtC;t:fc,T?;;;

TZr~r~ — 125

I AIR. iRvrvn • r<« ~ ' ■

•roubJo you evpp r*"'«f*»» to you ai,.?°V'' '"'".

CHAPTER XLIV.

The ''™'' ^^" ^^^"H^^R.
that Mr."^- Jev and"^^' *. «^»dovr of douht
other the rSo\"'^ofl*^«'^ >« to ea"d
had been satisfied wijj^^r *|^^ «hild. He
than Magdalen requT^ed f >" testimony
satisfied at last, tCSi ' «t"*^ ^''«° »'»« waJ
propriety of ascer ainfn^ I ' «»ir«e8fced The
remembrances of the °^ '""^ ^"ger if his
^^.r with him tallied "S^A^" who had left
cnption of Hrs/Sy^^^^^^ Storms' dt

ieft Cynthiani. To this Mr V*' ^^^^n she
and proposed that n« ' ^'"^^ assented
were always more sat sfaT" "1 ^''^^^S
Guy should ffo to sTj; !i- *^'"'">' than lettfirl
«nd Magdalen to ret ^^'«k, leaving }ZZu

g«;tia. aCd then re7u /to *^ \^o fn dncYnf
S? \°"^;^ J«^» them wijh h?'^"^°°^' ^here

Parents and s^r tiW?''^^ fouud^^

ae'flL't°"^'^<= how the 1?? K ?^^ «^ l>*i«
Sfxt and Rof/er was vmA %,^ between hor

oiner line4e. ""^^ ^^^^^^ V the discovery

Kocrer wiJJ hat-^
said to herself, w'ht atne'^h '''''''P''" «he
hotel she sat down to res? anS 7-''^ ** the
*we her position. ^^ ^^^ tried to rea-

befoKe^fstp^ SK ^ '^ext mornin,
?™e8sage toRoger^tmustl'^^ ^''"^•^ «end anf
Once she thou|h 1 1^ wS T'^^"" '^^t nighf
pegging him for her bS ^ him along letter
he was sure to love S f' ^"-^ ^^'««'«. whom
the ^oughehad done and?"" ^'' ^*the?aS
^eechwood, where he woul? '*""•« *° them at
welcome. But nff would receive a corrl.ti
«he felt thaTs*he'';i^3 V^enf. ^XttJ
^'•^tingthus. His^orrlh'"'^'^ warranted in

tor Boger and her fathi^ P'easanter both
^"W not iuvite him L "if '•'«'; to '"eet. She

^roteV"«^ "t *«*^« «he' ?o?fr '''^' •'^^ so
wrote to him hastiJy : ^'^ "^r peu anj

iroubJo /ouTe'r r'^fht o Jo'i'^^l^'f o"'' ruin.

would 8»v if^'^""' Who fa munh h l'!'^« '»e for

turn KoodVoT?/ H°^> wa^ oi^ffi l'"^" '•
too, und J wish r ^ ^^^^h you womVi S •^"" re-
how jrratPfi.i T ^ ^'ould tell i-,,,, „n4 i^""k so
done K^"^ l^»^Jo, you fo'r"" ?il ^f««J.. un"d

how SefuYV'' ^ ^'""id efl?ou 2^/4 ?''''k

doneKo TfT *°,/o« for M ^ ^'''«'' «""
am onlva L-fri '''^"'olwouldrn"^ Jou l,avo
to be canceffi" f "** *he debt ij r ^"^ "' ^ut I
yonasZ'Zi^^y ™«- Ma^ He,,Re\S

\-td t?oV^:rt7a'jh^^^*-' -^'ch he
-kedX'S^relthr^^^^^^^^^ too- she

uTi^ '" hisd^'°^ j"«^ whatVs:;!

night; anTwrernLY^*!^''^^ himself that

stractedand absent m,-^> I " seemed rb.
jnclmedtotalk wi ^^'^'^nd hut littl«

however, he went il rh^?'^^' ^^ ove^

frih^Tn^t^t^/^^^^^^^^

not unmixed with? • ' ^'^^ which is st i I

Magdalen, my'^'Zl^.l^f^^ humiliJtfoi"

there is something bet«f/' ^"^ continued

yitten against him in hn ^',"^* «he had

^„./^^?e^OpO told vn„ "i"^'^.-

m
all?

W'^S

• f^.

•JslM ril'Id""^' 5 r*' «« to hear " M.„

"-•f^w ^^,

126

MILLBANK ; OR,

It'

I could nut en-

of mother. I

Laura sutfered

once, — oh, so

met her iu her aweet

WM much like you.

8he Raid the last heBitatiugl}', for the^e
was something in the blue eyes fastened
upon her which prevented her saying m hard
things as she felt.

" Yes, it's all true, and more," Mr. Grey
replied. "Penelope could not tell you as
bad as it was, for she never knew all. I did
neglect your mother when she needed me
the most. I liked my ease,
dure scenes. I was afraid
Acted a coward's part, and
for it. She was beautiful
beautiful when I first

young girlhood! She _.

Hnd I loved her as well as I was capable of
loving then. I had been thwarted an<l
crossed, and had done things for whioli I
have always been sorry, but never as sorry
as since I have known you were my
child, for there is something in your
face which seems continually to reproach me
for the past, and until 1 have made you my
confession, I feel that there cannot oe per-
fect contidence between us. I think I
had seen you before you came to Beech-
wood."

" Yes.ih Belvidere, at Mrs. Irvintj's grave,
though I did not know who you were. I had
not heard of you then.'*

She knew about Jessie — Mr. Grey was sure
of that, and with something between a sigh
and a grouu, he said :

" You have heard of that sad affair too, I
see ; but perhaps you don't know all, and
how I was deceived."

** Yes, I know all. I have seen Mrs. Ir-
ving's letter — the one she wrote on board the
' Sea-Gull,' and to which you added a post-
script, Mr. Grey, why did you write so
coldly ? Why did you express no sorrow for
what you had done ? Why did you leave
a doubt of Jessie to sting and torment poor
Koger, the truest, the best man that ever
lived ?"

Magdalen was confronting her father with
poor Jessie's wrongs, and he felt that, if pos-
sible, she resented them more than those
done to her mother.

*' I was a Hend, a demon in those days,"
he said. " I hated the old man who had
won the prize I coveted so much. I did not
care how deeply I wounded him. I wanted
him to ferd as badly as I felt when I first
knew I ha(i lost her. I was angry with fate
which had thwarted me a second time, and
taken her from me just as I thought posses-
sion secure. I did not despair of coaxing
her to go with me at last — that is, I hoped I
might, for I knew her pliant nature ; but
death c^rae between us, and even in that
terrible hour, when the water around me
was full of drowning, shrieking wretches, I
cursed aloud whea I saw her golden hair

doat on the waves far beyond my reach, and
then go down for ever."

He shuddered as if with cold, was silent a
moment, and then went on :

" I loved Jessie Morton as I have never
loved a woman since, not even your
mother. I went to Belvidere just because
she had once lived there. I met you in
the graveyard, and was struck witn your
eyes, which reminded me of Laura. I
never dreamed you were my child, but I was
interested in you, and made you a part of
the little pencil sketch 1 drew of the yaid.
That picture has often excited Alice's cu>
riosity, for it was hung in my room at home.
When you came and I heard you were from
Millbauk 1 hid (.he sketch away, lest yon
should see it and recognize the place and
wonder how I came by it. You see 1 am
telling you everything, and I may as well
confess that when Penelope told me you were
from Millbank I wished you had never come
to us. We usually hate what we have in-

1'ured, and anything connected with the
rvings has been very distasteful to
me, and 1 could not endure to hear the
name. "

" But you would like Roger ; he is the
best, the noblest of men I" Magdalen ex-
claimed, so vehemently that her father must
have been dull indeed if he had failed to see
how strong a hold Roger Irving had on Mag-
dalen's affections.

He did seeit,but ould notsympathi;* with
her then, or at once lay aside all his olden

Prejudice against the Irvings, and it would
e long before Magdalen would feel that in
her love for Roger she Jtiad her father's cor-
dial sympathy.

*' I have no doubt you speak truly," he
said, " and some time, perhaps, I may see
him and tell him myself that his mother was
pure, and good, and innocent as an angel ;
but now I wish to talk of something else,
to tell you of my former life, so you may
know just the kind of father you have
found. ''^

Magdalen would rather not have listened
to the story which followed, and which had
in it so much of wrong, but there was no al-
ternative. Mr. Grey was resolved upon a
full confession, and he made it, and wheu
the recital was finished, he said :

" I have kept nothing from you. I would
rather you should know me i»s I am. I have
told you what I could never tell to Alice.
She could not bear it ; but you are different.
Alice leans on me, while something assures
me that I can lean on you. I am growing
old. I have a heavy burden to bear. I
want you to help me ; want yon to trust
me ; to love me if you can. I have sinned
greatly against your mother; have helped

« iiejo his handa tovvar.l i,-
e» took them in her,, tn,! ^'.^f ^.M««-

^^^ERJRVINO'S WARD.

dalea took tTemTn herrr„^, ^^'' f ^ W««-
and tears dropped uZl' thJ it "'« <*'««?«
^«ew that thire u.;"^„''°.*!'«'"' Arthur Grey

"..u lears uropped uimn fk« f ""*' KisHea
i«ew that tlire wis^^beh '"'„ T*'""- ^'"^^
between himself and AW, 1 1 ""''e^taiuiing
"ted an hour auo • but .T i " ""»" ''a^I ex-
there waa to Z^ oi\t" \?7 *'^« ^«"t
*""«. aee and appreciate /h i\ '*'""^^'. >n

a'^d seemed n.uch like himLf Tk*' '°"*«"*.

polished gentleman, whose aL.^ *'*'"''"3^'

almost lov.rdike, and who «h "V^"" ««'«'

ook and action how thl ^V"'^^ '" every

?'^ and how fast C We an*'' ^^ ^ ^«''« ^e J

"^creasing for the beau?ifu? •"}*'''f ' ^a«

J;- «o conclusively pr:rtotJ,,:^^^^^^^^^^^^

chapteFxlv.

ATBEECHWOOD.

^rr^f^/:::^l^^^% Sey-our to
of ^^^««Jalen'8 sudden In*^*'^ V^ *^'««au^e
especially as Alice herself u?/ f ^>«i"nati.
ed 80 'nuchabout it L ittjiV'^r"'/ ^""^^er-
««t, until Alice had heard tl'i"^*^ " ^'^"'^
^hich made her for a time „ i® ^'^^^^ ''^^^'.
as Laura herself. A flZ i*^™"'' *« e'^^y
written hurridelv inVl, ""^* from Guv

s<"'yciick. tofdi'? arj:rvr/'\"«>' '^

hoped was true, and then in fh *' l*^*' ^^e
her room she knelt «..i •*^® solitude of
aud choking sobs oai.fh*^ *"'"* *«»'•« of j„y

thanksgiviniranY^lt'rtir^ f '''•*'«« -J
made worthy of th« , • , ' ^^e might be

Ifly bestow^ed'upt C"'?.' «'*' «" «"d!
telegram from herfafkf ^^'^ iiext day a
he would be hont tKa^-i^^'L ^'''- ^^^t
^e". your sister;'' and ^'\V'^'.*^ ^'^g^^a-
words "your sfs ter," au/^« kissed %he
«»ftly to hersezf S-ent ^^^P^ating them

house, now expJaininrto T'""* ^'^^"t the
y*°t8 and agafn ?r^viL *' '^toni.hed ser!
dehnite idea to the darf. ""^ "°"^«^ «<>»'«

,,^hy . .n the cradle, fl rrTyoI'S

w£r^^^^^^^^ Magdalen

,^^tr, -^ nice, ,0 thl.t'^tali: ^^e^-de

-^ppr :nVatnj;« 'jJ^-S the clean
which gave a soft tint J, I *'"'"'°" «hawl.
face ti,« poorcreat^re'^V^ '*^^**'^' ^^^^^
M she said. -Am I VeJ]K'*"''^''«'^*httle
^^^-i^-me, thinr%-.^^a^^.

hack to me, and Jometinr^^ '^"«'^'- thing-
hold of how it was ! ' ^ ''■*" «'"'08t Jtc
^?.h Arthur «.,r',.th-',t goes again! ^'^Z
i nope he win V .

proached foj^thr?® ° n **"'* the hour «n
«-- very rJsttV ^f f:' *« -ive^Ah.fj
ih« **': ?°'"8tantJeavcth '*'"*' ""'^*^""ia
she watched anxiou rf^/ t'"'"^'"'^' ^hfru

. }ney are comii./. m ""^^'''atfo.
"'edatiast, aSd ru.i '^'"^ *•"« heio." ahe
«a8 the Hrst to Sm *^ 1"^^" ^^e hall she
f*ce was drenched w^r /^^*«^'«Je«. nVose
heart throbbed wkh«^ *'''*'-' *"d whos!

Hboufr^'^'-^dthe Shtl'^''^''^ "^'"^e.
al>out her neck. *^"* '^'*«P ot her ai ma

her grLt^n^wSruTo'T ■•"!"'' ^^ though

St^sr^ . thZ^^as'r r^^ ^^^
--h^tt^.^a^isr

"■(■ere to ?„'"<'«• Wr. Gre^ J""-'*"-

■--t ^d i^ki-'i- .i."" .V" «'"^ «

daienhrstmet Vl **" ^hen Alice aii.l \f

did- . '''' ^- did, he d,d-k;;l\ri'r«

"Laura." Mr n '

shehadtrown „ 1-. f®^ said, softiv u
stari.j Z.* ^n *^ttJecaJm f . * 'v. when

fou«^ ^f' .^^'^'t you? Th Yy '" "ider?
Jound. Itia MacdX. ."'h*' ^ost baby !-

man took care of Iv*'''^ ^hom a Ji. ?

storms in Cynthiana. v ^' ^*^« s«en M,"!^

Laura re JlembereV C ^^ ""'^^'- h--^ r''*

tremendous etfo/t t* J^^lr "-^^^r*
she heard. But it had bL?^, ^f '*'" ^^a?

'vaa in the wadl * ^ *«sert that^'j f *^

'- hig to ^'ttix "'"h J >^*i- wir

^* ■^'opeiess and dj*.

ISS

MILLBANK OR,

heartened, Mr. Groy dosistod in his attempts
to make her uuderatand, but stayed by her
till Alice came to Hny that dinner waited.

It wai thoujjht bent that Magdalen should
not see Lniira until the next morning,
when it was hoped that she might convey
some deKnito idea to her mind. They were
to moot alone, and after breakfast Magdalen
repaired to the sick-room, and entering un-
announced, was received by her mother with
outstretched arms and a cry of joy.

" You've been gone long, Mauda, — so
long," she said, "and my head has ached so
for you."

•' But I've come now to stay always. I
have found the baby, too. Let me tell you
about it," Magdalen replied, controlling her
own emotions ^with a mighty effort, and
keeping us calm and composed as it was pos-
sible for her to do. " I'll make it like a
story," she said ; and Laura listened very
quietly while Magdalen, beginning at the
funeral of Mrs. Clayton, went over the
whole ground correctly, until she reached
the cars and the boy who took the baby.

Then she purposely deviated from the
truth, and said it was a woman to whom the
child was given.

"No, no, not a woman," Laura exclaimed,
vehemently. " It was a boy, and I sat with
him, and my head was all in a suarL I fell
when I got out of the stage in Cincinnati,
and struck it a heavy blow on the pavement,
and it set to buzzing so loud."

Here was something of which Mag-* .len
had never heard ; the blow on the head
would account for the cumulation of the
queer fancies which must have been gather-
ing in Laura's brain for months and years,
and which broke out suddenly into decided
insanity. If that were true, she could un-
derstand better than she did before why she
had been abandoned ; but she did not stop
then to reason about it. She was too anxious
to keep her mother to the point, and when
she paused a moment she said to her, " You
fell and hurt your head on the pavement,
and then got into the train."

" Yes, the next day, or the next, I don't
know which, my head ached so, and I didn't
know anybody to tell, and I had baby to
care for, and I thought the Grand Duchess
would get her as she did Alice, and shut me
up, and the boy looked good and true, and I
gave her to him, and got out and thought I'd
run away, and there was another train stand-
ing there, and I took it and went I don't
know where, nor what else, only I was back
in Cincinnati again, and after a great while

fot here to the Grand Duchess, with the
aby safe as safe could be. My head was
Bore a long time, but I did not tell them

about the blow for fear they'd say I w.as
crazy, but they said it just the same."

8he was getting excited, and, anxious to
make the moat of the present opportu-
nity, Magdalen took up the story hor-
self, and toM what the boy did
with the child, and how ho called
hor Magdalen, after the same lady for whom
Mrs. Grey ha<l named her, and how the child
grew to a woman, and came out at last to
Boechwood, sent there by Heaven to find her
sister and minister to her poor mother, who
did not know her at first, but would surely
know her now.

i^" Don t you, mother ; don't you know I am
your daugliter Magdalen ? "

For an instant Laura seemed to compre-
hend her. Thefe was a perplexed look on
her face, then her lip began to quiver and
her tears to come, and throwing her arms
around Magdalen's neck, she said, "Mother,
mother — you call me that as Alice does.
Y^ou say you are the baby, and Arthur said
so too. 1 wish I could remember, but I
can't. Oh, I don't know what you mean,
but you make me so happy ! "

And that was Magdalen's success, with
which she tried to be satisKed, hoping thero
might come a time when the cloud would lift
enough for her to hear her mother call her
daughter, and feel that she knew what sho
was saying.

The next day Guy came from Schodick.
Magdalen was the first to meet him, and her
ej es adked the question her lips •would never
have uttered.

"No, Miss Oreij," Guy said, laughingly,
adopting the name which sounded so oddly
to her. " He did not send any written reply
to your note. There is some confounded
bother on his mind, I could not divine what ;
something which sealed his lips, though his
face and eyes and manner had ' Magdalen,
Magdalen, written all over and through
them. Don't look so sorry, cousin," he con-
tinued, winding Lis arm around her waist,
" and don't try to look so innocent, either.
I guessed the whole thing when you handed
me the note, and I know it for certain now.
You love Roger Irving; he loves you. There
is nothing truer than that, but there is some-
thing between you — what, I don't know, but
I'll find it out. I'll clear it up. He is a
splendid fellow, and almost idolized, I judge,
by the people of Schodick. Not much like
his nephew Frank "

Here Guy stopped suddenly, for Mr. Grey
was coming in with Alice, who asked the re-
sult of his visit to Mr. Irving.

"I have learned but little that we did not
know before," Guy said. "Mr. Irving's de-
scription of the woman who left the chili
tallies exactly with what I should suppose

yoars

the i

Oh, G

know,

ready

more, ,

Her

she brt

dignani

said ; '

money )

my Won

the hiJl;

tectuie,

Ja^ly's sli

The neia

while I ',

ner. j ,

silver, to(

though, I

a present

few Yort

doing thf

reckon, bii

, /'Diua't

than in Fra

.;;No, he

win answer

but he se

and then am

8 ^

w . -•v'v.ii.u luv

Ho give » oomical I.. 1. ."""> • '"""W "

"he must cry outr X '-.I"'' «*»« 'elt as if
J"8e much of w J: i^^^^*-. vvas not one To
Ji'8 iiiUTview with j.;:'*'^ ^« ParticuJara cf

«lmJl" J ^'^r^>'"» «^-"Td come v^*^" *« he
«"aii I tell you •> \Vk f ?^®- -Now, what
feuow mo8t ? " ^^" • ^^h*t do you w^urtoJ
He had her secret Th '

tryiug to conceal ir'anJ tt^ ""^ °« "«« in

^hink what linger has h^^^^ ** »"«' ^^Uy
g ars and tel/ «« how ho ?o ^ "'' '" *h«««
oL ^^'use. and does h« J ",'''• "'^'^ about
<Jh, Guy, he was m!^ ^•""'^ very haJv

»°lver V"""? »■»'' him von / «™°<' ■*'"■
3»in« the „. ''if "»* i» Iivi„/ft/'°°

^^^KUKVmG.s WARD.

"^"«..«- rill •''•"• ff^

r^ K'nd, brotherly lnA„ "^^^ •-"•'"e at las/

, «"<! 1 wouldVvel ;"^">'«'''" J^«M?nt«:
tban no., have kn^ZlV""" f'""*'- '

«< n" . " * " rather ho r> et'^ai, scale, I

cover ♦^liu I '•*'«in that annU . » '^"c

•verthe beautiful ».}.;i i ,*'''"''8e Woul.l

vniiH * r^: '"^' iou woiil>? „ t,aunot a^k
your father care to ik °°'' care to »!

'ne to him ;t . "ave you p '^"' "or

your father T^''" like. Sfn^e V .^^'nember

'^r^ at Jas to the H "^ ^^^«« ^O". an^ V,'"''

°^ fbis letterland ?' '""'^' "« «o'ne norH °'^
to see her • «iK,», ''"«*tne was nroJ^Kj '•^-es-

":, ' ?"" thus s,how p '^'"^6 to eo ui-f i!

ome portions of his lT!l ^^ "^eant bv
Know how fnr , iefcter. Sk- j • j "^

130

MILlBAKK ; OR,

from the first crout ihook, and hope was bo-
({iniiinu to mafio itnolf heanl n^jaiii, Ouy had
unwittingly put his oar into the troubled
wati-rs, and madu them ton tinioH worse. la
his (inthUHianm alwut Mngilalen, wlioin ho
oxtoUnd as uU that was lovely and denirahle,
liu i{ave Roger the imprcHsion tliat lietwoen
hiniHelf and Magdalen tliere already exihtod
an intimacy which would ripen into relations
of a cloHt'r nature than mere frionds. And
Roger listened to him with a face which told
no taloH, and a heart which throhhed with
jealousy and pain ; and then, feeling that he
must know something delinite, aaid to hitii
just as he was leaving : —

"Excise me, Mr. Seymour, if I seom im-
pertinent. FVom what yon have said, I
gather that you hope one day to l)o more to
Mr. Grey than his sister's nephew."

And Guy. thinking only of Alice at that
moment -fld replied :

*' You are something of a Yankee, I guess.
But you are right in your conjectures. I do
hope to be more to Mr. Grey than his lister's
nephew ; but there's no telling. Girls are
ri(l«lles, you know."

And then good-natured, kind-hearted
Guy had gone on hia way, leaving in Roger's
mind an impress on which drift'id his lifefar-
ther and farther away from Magdalen, whose
heart went out after him now with a strong-
er desire than it had ever known before.

CHAPTER XLVI.

THE CLOUDS BREAK OVER BEECHWOOn.

Acknowledged by every one as the daugh-
ter of the Greys, caressed and idolized by
Alice, petted by Aunt Penelope, and treated
by Mr. Grey with the utmost tenderness and
deference, Magdalen would have been per-
fectly happy but for one uufultilled desire
which was the skeleton at her eide. Be-
tween herself and Alice there was perfect
confidence, while she was learning daily
more and more to respect her father, who
omitted nothing which could tend to win
her love. To her mother she was the same
gentle nurse, who never grew weary, but who
sat hour after hour by the bedside, repeating
over and over again the story of the lost
child, until Laura knew it by heart and
would correct her at once if she deviated ever
so little There was a change gradually steal-
ing over the invalid — a change both in body
and mind. She was far more quiet, and did
not rock the cradle as much as formerly,
and once, when Magdalen had finished her
story for the second time that day, she said
to her, " I think I have heard it enough to
know that baby is not in the crib, and uever^
has been. Take it away, — where I can't
fock it again and make Arthur so nervous.'

They carried it out,— Alice and Magdalen
together, — and put it away, each feeling, as
they left it, as if turning from a little grave.
Laura never spoke of it but once, and that
was to her husband. Pointing to the place
where it had stood so long, the said with a
smile, " Do you nut', it is gone ? It will
never keep you awake again. Kiss me, Ar-
thur, for t, too, shall be gone before long."

He kissed her more than once, ami put
his arms about her, and felt how Huiall and
thin slie had grown ; then looking into her
faeu he saw the change which only Magdalen
had noticed. The burden wns lifting, the
cloud was breaking, and Laura was passing
away. There was no particular disease,
only a gradual breaking np of the springs of
life ; and as the days grew longer and «varmer
she drooped more and more, until at last she
never left her bed all day, and rurdy spoke
except to Magdalen, whe was with lier con-
stantly. Sometimes it seemed as if there
was a gleam of reason struggling through the
darkness which had shrouded her mind so
long, but it never went much much further
than such expressions as, "I think I do re-
member the uoy with the kind vnice and
soft blue eyes, to whom I gave Magdalen,
but I can't quite make out *' jw that Alagda-
leu and this are one."

" I would not try now; I'd go to sleep
and rest, " Magdalen would f^ay, and obedient
to the voice she always heeded, Laura would
grow quiet and fall again into the deep
slumber so common to lier now.

In this way she lingered on for a few
weeks, and then died qu etiy one morning
in early June, when her hu»b>nd was in New
York and only Magdalen and Alice were
witlj her. They knew that she was failing,
but they had not thought the et. i ^o near,
and were greatly shocked wheij, at a fait t
call from her, they hastened to her side and
saw the pinched look about her nose, the
deep pallor about her lips, and the sweat-
drops upon her brow.

'•Let me go for aunty," Alice said, but
her mother answered, "No, Alice, there
won't be time. I'm going somewhere, going
away from here, and I want you and Magda
to stay. It's getting night, and the way is
dark, and life is very weary. Give me
your hands, both of you, my children."

She acknowledged Magdalen, and with a
cry the young girl fell on her knees beside
the bed, exclaiming, " Mother, mother, you
do know I an^ your child ! Call me that
once more."

But Laura's mind was going out after one
who was not there, and she only whispered,
" Where is Arthur ? AUie, where is your
father?"

"In New York," was the reply, and a

mmm

Wrt8,it.a<J V,u' ■"*' •aw' that K-.- * "*'-'«
fall T'^^:..^''"/««choa'* jl„„^ "* «"ce for

il^!^if!L[!^ U'ARD.

J31

fall T?' V'" '■««cho.r J,i,„„ , *. ''"^'« ^"r
^'«'"'« an ,;r"""^ ^'ith Sower, '•' T^^

«t'J'. aiHi \7r f v* ^'"■'"''» »>«a«ty cliina f 'l°^
'f'e rooi. « ? ,''>'• when tirathJ^ '° ^e*"
covered h'^''''«w aside the n^ T"' '"'«

look o„ fc "1?''° »-« -owLTr.'K'- J>"

y^ whut «he aaid! '• °^ ^ «^ ^ere to tell
-, it Was Ma;rdal«n'a •

o4 ^n''"«^ J"« heart anf°^'"« «* thrill of
«>oic upag gj^ Irtieft K J causing him tn

" HI — " *3I

"..."ail: ^ ""./."", ''■' ZuZ Z 'I"

"'" l.re™,K.„ .,,,1 " J'Jf Uiir,-. .j,,

whom ♦»: ' '"ere until • .^ "<-'»" hiiH-

Ilia wife 1 1?'',? ^hen he «?-? n""" «"''
i-Ver.'th;? .'^"'■e sorrow T '"'"■« 8«U

arranged with? ^"'' ^'^'•' *"d he •?/"'' */'^'"'

house over i'-f t; *\*" » *'^uWe 'to IT'
ou a beaiififV I *hreahoJd H,^ i '** ^he

Juried W & ""the hil&,e Jl^^^ ^'"ie I

"lade no r?. '''® ^^e proud o r?, ^^''^ 'iiey

CH^rfiR XLr:i.

BELL BVliLBiau

■I here was f /^. k
Church. Son ^",^«^J'"« in «Sf t
-ted w'ere :E;i?r' *he "-««"« «?oat''2rr"'

i.'-ee was Without taint of

MILLBANK ; OR,

kind. So Mra. Walter Scott waa pleased, or
feigned to he 8o, and went to Boston, and
took rooms at tlie Revere, at fifteen dollars
per day, and had her meala served in her

{)rivate parlour, and Frank brought down
liii own horses and carriage, and took
another suite of rooms, and paid at the rate
of twenty dollars per day for all hia extrava-
gances in the way of cigara and wine, and
friends invited to dinner. Hia evaniogs he
Rpeut with hia bride-elect in her home on
Beacon-street, where everything betokened
that the proprietora were not rich in worldly
goods, it' they were in blood.

The Burleighs were very poor, else the
spirited Bell, who had more brains than
heart, had never accepted Frank Irving.
She knew just what he was, and, alone with
her young sister Grace, mimicked him, and
called hnn "green," and when she was
with him in company, ahivered, and grew hot
and cold, and angry at some of his remarks,
which betokened so little sense.

He was gentlemanly to a certain extent,
and knew all the ins and outs of good so-
ciety ;but he was not like the men with whom
Bell Burleigh had associated ail her life; not
like the I'^en she respected for what was in
their '.eads rather than in their purse. But
as thp e m^n had thus far been u'lattainable,
an 1 V.iii coffers at home were each year
f;rowing lowei And low<^r as her father grew
ilder and older. Bell swallowed all senti-
ment, and the ideas she had once had of a
husL vud to "'horn she could look up, and ac-
cepted I?rank living and Millbank.

But nor without her price. She made
Frank pay for i,:r blood and charms, and pay
muniticeutly, too. First, one hundred
thousand dollars were to be aettled on her-
salf, to oo with aa she nleased. Next, sister
Grace and her father wcof* both to live with
her at Miiibc»nk, and FraLk was to clothe
and support Grace as if slu were his own
sister. Tlien, her brother (aarlie's bills at
college lai'st be paid, a^;d after he was
graduated ho must come to Millbank as hia
home until he wen'; b^c business.

These weie B A\'aUe7-n . , and Frank winced
a little and hesitated nd when she had
told him to take t \<ie to consider, he
took it and did considc . , and decided that it
would not pay, and we..'^^ for a few weeks to
Kew Zork, where v: ^'■he Fifth Avenue
Hotel he came d^y-^i:! up-in the Burleighs.
Bell knew j ist how to manjge him, and ere he
had bee a three days he wat as much in love
with hei- as ever, and madly jealous of every
one who paid her marked attention. The
price she asked seemed as nothing compared
with herself, and one evening after sho had
been unusually fascinating and brilliant, and
had snubbed him dreadfully, he wroto a note

accepting her terms, and begged her to name
an early day and put him one of t(jrture. In
her dressing-gown, with her own hair falling
about her shoulders and her braids and curls
of false hair lying on the bureau. Bell read
the note, and felt for a moment that she des-
pised and hated the man who wrote it, just
because he had acceded to her unreasouuole
demands.

"I wish he had decided otherwise. I
would almost rather die than marry him,"
8Ji« thought, while her eyes put on a darker
look and her face a paler hue.

Then she thought of the home on Beacon
Street, of the pinched poverty, the elforts to
keep up appearances, of her father growing
so old, and of herself, not so young as she
was once, — twenty-eight, the Bible said,
though she passed for twenty-tive ; then she
thought of Charlie, her younger brother, aiifl
glanced at Grace, her only sister, who lay
sleeping so quietly before her. All the love
Bell Burleigh had waa centred iu her father,
her brother, and in Grace, the fair young girl,
with soft blue eyes and golden hair, who was
as unlike her sister as possible, and who was
awakened by Bell'a tears on her face, and
Bell'a kissea on her brow.

*' What is it. Bell ? " ahe asked^ sitting up
in bed, and rubbing her eyes in a sleepy
kind of way.

Bell did not say, " I have sold myself for
you." But — "Rejoice, Grace, that we are
never again to know what poverty means ;
never to pinch and contrive and save and do
things we are ashamed of in order to keep
up. I am going to marry Mr. Irving, and
you are all to live with me at Millbank."

Grace waa wide awake now, and looking
earnestly in her sister's fac for a moment,
said :

" l't» M marry that Mr. Irving, you, Bell"!
There is not a thing in common between you,
unless you love him. Do yoa ? "

" Hush, Grace ; don't speak of love to me,"
and Bell's voice had in it a hard, bitter tone.
"I parted company with that sentiment
years ago, before you could understand.
'Vou have heard — of — Dr. Patterson, mission-
ary to India ? I would have gone with him
to the ends of the earth, but mother aaid I
was too young, too giddy, and the Board.
thought 80, too. I was not quite seventeen,
and 1 defied those old fogy ministers to their
faces, and when they asked me so coldly if
I suppoaed myself good enough to be a
missionary, I answered that I was going for
the love I bore to Fred, and not to be a
missionary, or because I thought myself good
as they termed goodneaa. And it waa broken
off, and Fred went without me, and as they
said he must have a wife, he took a tall, red-
haired woman many years his senior, but

t
I
n
\f
F
ki

virl

wij
a n

ITU

son:

shoi

idea

. beei;

man:

shori

niadt

cause

choici

thecj

your

Grace

BeJI

her da

and cri

old pro

her fac

agaiii,-

fuan of

money «

dining-r(

■ind whiJ

'"8 papei

talked t,

P^ir, witi

■'ctween t

'^"gageine

«"«ibJe ai

°"«tre jiia j)Q,_ . ,.""« or the wnrM a

franklin T • *''°"*- I 8h«n \ ^ ^"O"'

"1?"° i'™,"?' -".^ r '"^'. l"d

^ nobJe woman ci! , . ' iiany eJem*.«* ^ ;
» rice she had ;. .^^® ^''^ "ot telJ P *"** °^

«omethi„gX wo '15"'^ ^«'-«elf Th^r *^"
should nnf I ''"^^ '•ather h^r . "** ^as
'■<'easof"?iJ^?^^' *°^I when rr""««'«ter

inancp +«,- i ^ ^r the Prp^l x> ^.7^ *• ^an

:?2^^^_ffiVlKG^WABD.

133

'nance tH t^^ «^ the Fred vl?"^^'' ^-^

«h-r;ith"!^.*?,.-p-*u]rte. "^h* "r '•«•

madeuD ri,^'^ «^ no use • \i. «*''PPed
r,a»c„ T. J have tolH „„.._! ' niy mind is

madeuD ' ri,'"" "^ no ush • «7 ""'Mpet
Gra^«. t5' >onr resDe«<: ,._ ^^ ''• /Want

. ' r 'n® absence nf *k ' " **''""C-niinW

' As Mrs. Franlr],„ t .
^^nt-se, be the nom n i •"^' «he wouJd nf

but it^ould be St^r*?'^ '^^ ^^^i"'^nk
fecott would be thy °?""»^- Mr« tV«if„'

tTlJ **^'*''*tMi88Burlpi *K ^'"^ "he was
talents and ,,*<.„ •"'^^^^gn was a eirl nf .

^'•««t deal of .n* r"^T^^' ^''^t ?he had'?

'^'T taste and w^uld'shillll"^^'' and t L?

Frank did not .are ^ .■ ° ^""^ «"«'ely.
IndTed'h^'* '^"^''nm n?, P;,^;>:«''e for Bail's
had it ^^^onJd rather of f^ !^'"'"'>' taste.

ji;'^- sSirre wa7?^*t *« ^« S;x

thoHcht ho », 'n Jove veith ^. ®

"'er.'Kj"^':"^ "tolled H: V,"j __' '

+i! , ^'"^ ae was .„ r ne knew rIi*

thoHcht ho », 'n Jove veith ^. *

^ oeside him anri **" ^ho woji.

«eal'"S''\ '^'•^"'-S^ w^s T'"^« «"A'

who n.-^^"" engagement '^'":i"*^' the

-^-d thel %Sularf;,^ ..^-

Beil's J^n ^" -^ ' "°««dence,

herda;lh^^"'^<''-edaiifctJe -^ u

^"dcrTedttttr^^'- ^«^ ^«U°'i' ''^^e^l
old proud -i^® '■ then satZL ^^^^" «ne,

^er C.^' aid^l^'jf «"* fi Se rV^«
aea' i Ii, ' ^«W BurJp.n/K ™® hack to

MILLBANK; OR,

whom Miss Burleigh was known, guessed nt
the new relatiops existing between the
two.

This was in the winter, and before Mag-
dalen's parentage was discovered. Since
then the course of true love had run pretty
smoothly for once, and Frank had only felt
a single pang, and that when he heard who
Magdalen Lennox was. Then for a moment
all h?s former love for her came back, and
^tll Burleigh, M'ho chanced to be at Mill-
bank for a day or so, wondered what had
happened to him that he was so absent-
minded and indifferent to her blandishmentd.
Sht) was very gracious to him now, feeling
that there was something due him for all his
generosity to her, and as she could not give
him love in its truest sense, she would give
him civility at least and kindliness of manner
and a show of affection. So when she saw
the shadow on his face, and with a woman's
intuition felt that something more than
mere business matters had brought it there,
slie spoke to him in her softer manner and
sang him her sweetest songs and wore his
favourite dress, and twice laid her hand on
his, ai d asked what was the matter that he
looked 50 gloomy. Had he heard bad news ?
He told her no, and kissed her forehead,and
felt his blood tingle a little at this unusual
demonstration from his fiancee, and so fickle
and easily soothed was he, that beneath the
influence of Bell's smile the shad'. ,ir began
to lift, and in the letter of congratulation
which he wrote to Magdalen there was no-
thing but genuine sympathy and rejoicing
that shehadfouud hvr homeatlast and asister
like Alice Grey.

He did not tell of his engagement ; he
was a little ashamed to have Magdalen know
that he was so soon *' off with the old love
and on with tha n^w ;" and so she did not
suspect it until every arrangement was com-
plete and the day (or the bridal fixed. Great
was the expendi'^ure for silks and satins and
laces and jewe'iery, and not only New York
and Boston, bat Paris, too, was drawn upon
to furnial articles of clothing rare and ex-
pensive enouj;h fo** a bride of Bell Burleigh's
fastidious taste and extravagant notions.
Frank, who grew move and more proud of
his conquest, and Cfnsequently more and
more in love wich hiy bride-elect, insisted
upon furnishing the oridal, trousseau, and
bade her spare neither mioney nor pains, but
get whatever she wanted at whatever cost
And Bell accepted his money, and spent it ao
lavishly that all Boston was alive with
gossip and wonder. There were to be six
bridesmaids, and three of them were to ac-
company the happy pair for a week or so at
Frank's expense ; and Frank never flinched
a hair, even when presented with the Paris

bill, in which were charges of one hundred
dollars and more for just one article of un-
derclothing. All Bell's linen came ready
made from Paris, aad such tucks and ruffles
and puffs and ilutings and laces had never
been seen before tii Boston in so great pro-
fusion. And Bell bore beraslf like a qneen,
who had ell her life been accustomed to
Parisian luxury. There was no doubt of her
gracing Millbank or any other home, and
Frank e".ch time he saw her felt more than
reuaid for the piles and piles of money which
he paid out for her.

At Millbank there was also dressmaking
proceeding on a grand scale, and though Mrs.
vValter Scott's wardrobe differed somewhat
from Bell's, inasmuch as it was soberer and
older — the silks were just as heavy and rich,
and the laces just as expensive. New
furniture, new table-linen, and new silver
came almost daily to Millbank, together
with new pictures, for one of which the sum
of two thousand dollars was paid. When
old Hester Floyd heard of that she could
keep quiet no lontjer, but vowed " she would
go to Belvidere and visit Mrs. Peter Slocum,
who was a distant connection, and would be
giad to have her a 'jpell, especially as she
meant to pay her way. "

When Hester resolved to do a thing she
generally did it, and as she was resolved to
go to Belvidere she at once set herself to
prepare for the journey.

CHAPTER XLVIII.

THB WEDDING, AND HESTER FLOYD's AC-
COUNT OF IT.

Roger had written to Frank, congratu-
lating him upon his aoproachiug marriage,
but declining to be present at the wedding.
He wished to kcow as little as possible of
the affairs at Millbank, aud tried to dissuade
Hester from, hsr visit to Mrs. Slocum. But
Hester would go, and three days before the
great even camti off she was Installed in
Mrs. Slocu-a' besi chamber, and had pre-
sented that worthy woman with six bottles
of canned fruit, ten yards of calico, and au
old coat of Aleck', which, she said, would
cut over nice'y for Johnny, Mrs. Slocum's
youngest boy. After these presents, Hester
felt tuat she was not "spunging," hs she
called it, and settled herself quietly to visit,
and to reconnoitre, and watch the proceed-
ings at Millbank. And there vas enough
iu . .cupy her time and keep her iu a state
of great excitement.

The house had beea painted brown, and
Hester inveighed against that, and scolded
about the shrubbery, which had been re-
moved, and Cii.d a little over the trees
which, at Bell's instigation, had been cut

^^^mjBxim's WARD.

^vv^^xZiK IKVI.

£f*"'-PP-Prre;'L" of the nVer f.o. '
Wiese rooms Hester a iLt n ''"'^'- ^"^^
r^f^ *8 into all narfa :^» XL Peoetrate^l aa
^^'alter Scott had /on! f^ i.*''^ ^«»se. Mrs

they drove by Mrs. SI. '^'1':'^^ ■ ^^'"^ *»
new carnage. wi>h \u • '° their e War f
coloured drfv^r oX K^'"" ^hite-glo^vej

KettJe to see them as hrr? r. u ^'■'^^ « caldron
through the countrv ' ,*'^"«"ie88a.ridin'
money. ««"«try and spending Uo^s

•^he knew «r», = a^i a

t'^.t* the coTst t:?.?'^^ ^«'-« going and
;? h Mrs Slocu^wh: waf '''"'-k -'
^'th the housekeeper sl7« °° Sood terms
afternoon and saw «r' u ^^"t there that

°-Y ^-P^otedrseeTh-,;;!''*?." her eye^s
, -f mean to write f« a? ,^"« ^"^ed. "
J5,«ow just what carr?in','^^*!«u" •"'^ let her
«he sa,d to Airs «? '" * '*'' '''ere is here "
^eucod a letter Safe? '1 ^^^ «he cTm-

and ' .'^' '"''' *«d what «£!"'''« ^*^^«len
and not omittiuir to snlA ^® ^''^ the?e for

^uoh alterations !" =" '^ two.
fiouse as brown ^Iz, V ^''° ^rote " Th I
it that cost two^K^""^^' »«d ap ;, JJe
awfuUestdaub T '''""aan' dollars fi,'
un iir. "'*"0, i reckon fKo* ""ars, the

Z,!.'l^''"' "oe don't '°B "P^"" "me

135

— "'» ^s -i m a livin' ^ " ' "'V ooJIars a

m a reces"^ lii,„ e'^ss as ionw an .i. • ^

lookin' SaVs ,' ^^°^ '"^ *he doo? onnolV'-'"*
it s/ass, and jn thn ,i«« opposite is a

shelves and drawers *n^ '"'f^^ «"'! marble
8it in an^ K «»»cr8, and a chAi'i. +„ "'^i^uie

wanf 1 ^"f tains, r shnnU 7 ' '*■ hung

i^ '^ankim must have '«■« * J^' *-'«"•• Mrs
^ TT' * "'-nt. „"k ^/l""^ •*• The?s

.-henCtaf ';^'- '' ^^ "« "urnd^T'.;
ioherwedcUn' J"""^^'''' and he' fj ft""^

--embe;X,trfa:;r"^*he'fLh?o?7
f he was younger iX ^IZ *"^ herself when
she 18 now for Vi. ^ ^^^'^ many vear«Tk
thirty if she'ra da? IIT7 ^" '^y^ 1%'
twenty.eight..?^"^' '^"^ ^'''ank ain^ qufte

epistf^ ^f *u hreak just here in rr

Mrs %'i ^® had decider/ ?„ ° Hester's

''Ky. and the air h.,] ''t the summ. ..

«urely blessed and ought to L5"''^'«h wa.

hinf r V . "er face, whi<^h k i- , '^t show
"'nt of th rty year/ „ J h belied Hestnr'.

excitement. ^Sl' ",^ '*'''« a^' aglow '^'^
and the length of herf ' • * heautifirbr "J '
day- the thf me of gossTn 'anT''^ '«^ ^ays S |

who sa^ it as she wS f'^^^S the crowd '

J^rank. He M/n» • elearer voicA tk

^f ialen^ J-;---B. and thou^hf:;

made their mother's £ent'^' "^'^ ^^'^e ha?
^or not being present ^^ ''^^*h an excuse
joice woi Id 'uTCe'n ::iT^T'^ ^' h"
^el' J when she said "f t "{^ f''^ steady a^

could see how beautiful i^-' ^^* easier, and
and how well she bo elr'h "''^ ^^^^e 'wa^.

--- ^^„ weu She bore b«,. k ''^"e was.

186

MILLBANK ; OR,

vras to have all the money he wanted and
euch a bride aa Bell.

They were poing west for a week or two,
then back to MilVbank for a few days, and
then to Saratoga cr the sea-side, just where
the lancy led them. Mrs. Walter Scott re-
turned to Millbank and sent out a few cards
to the elite of the town, the Johnsons, and
Markhams, and Woodburys, and the clergy-
man and her family physician. As for the
nobodys, they were n(.t expected to call, and
they consoled themselves with invidious re-
marks and watching the proceedings.

On Sunday the Irving pew was graced by
Mrs. Walter Scott, who wore a new bonnet
and a silk which rustled with every step.
She was very devout that day, and made a
large thank-offering for her new daughter-in-
law, a crisp tea-dollar bill, given so that all
who cared could see and know it was a ten.
She did not see Hester Floyd until service
was out, — then she btarted a little as the old
lady stepped into the aisle before her, but
offered her hand cordially, and felt that she
was very good, and very pious, and very
democratic to walk out of church in close
conver9?.tio;A with Hester, whom she invited
to come and see the changes they had made
in the house, and stop to tea, if she liked,
with the housekeeper.

Mrs. Walter Scott had nothing to fear
from Hester now, and could afford to be very
gracious, but the old lady was neither de-
ceived nor elated with her attention. She
had been to the house, she said, rather
crisply, and seen all she wanted to, and she
did think they might have let some of the
rooms alone and not fixed 'em up like a play-
house, and she'd cover up that naked boy in
Mrs. Franklin's room before she got there,
for if she was a modest woman, as was to be
hoped, she'd feel ashamed. And then, hav-
ing reached i,he new carriage, with its white-
gloved driver, the two women said good-day
to each other, and Mrs. Walter Scott's dove-
coloured silk was put carefully into the car.
riage by the footman and the door was closed
and the two shining horses were oft' like
the wind, leaving H'jster to watch the cloud
of dust and the flash of the wheels which
marked the progress of the fast-moving ve-
liiAe.

The particulars of this interview were
faithfully recorded for Magdalen's benefit,
the old lady breaking the Sabbath for
the &ake of "writing while the thing was
fresh itt htr mind" and she could do it
ju«tjee.

Tea days more went by, and then it was
repwrted in the street that the workmen in
the «hoe eliop and factory were to have a
iholi(la.y on Thursday in honour of their mas-
far 'i^ jreturja to Millbank with his bride. It

was whispered, too, that in his letter to his
foreman Frank had hinted that some kind of
a demonstration on his arrival would be
very appropriate and acceptable, and if his
agents would see to it he would defray any
expense they might incur for him. Some of
the workmen laughed, and some sneered,
and some said openly they had no demon-
stration to make, but all accepted the holi-
day willingly enough, and a few of the
young men, with all the boys, decided to get
up a Donfire and fireworks, on a large scale,
inasmuch as the bill was to be paid by " the
Gov."

Accordingly a hundred dollars worth of
fireworks were ordered from SpringHeld,and
Frank, who came about eight o'clock, was
greeted with a rocket which went hissing
into the air and fell in sparks of tire just
over his shoe-shop.the shingles of which were
dry with age and the summer heat. There
was a crowd after all to honour him, and an
impromptu band, which played "Hail to
the Chief," am' "Come, Haste to the Wed-
ding," and finished up with a grand flourish
of " Dixie,'" to which many bare feet kept
time upon the lawn in front of Millbank. A
collation, which Hester in her journal-letter
called a "collection," had been prepared for
then? on the grounds, and the small boys ate
themselves almost sick on ice cream and
raisins, and then halloed with might and
main for the bride, who appeared, leaning on
her husband's arm, smiling and bowing, and
offering her hand to be shaken, while all the
while she was wondering if "the miserable
little wretches hadn't warts or some
worse disease which she would catch of
them."

The collation over, the bridal party re-
turned to the house, and the crowd went
back to their fireworks, to which the tired
and slightly disgusted Bell hardly gave a
look. She had the headache, and went early
to her room, and closing her blinds to shut
out the glare of the blue and red lights
which annoyed her terribly, she
fell asleep, and was dreaming of
the missionary Fred 'fhen the cry of
"Fire, Fire," aroused h'jr, and Frank looked
in with a white, frightened fa'je, telling her
the large shoe-shop was on fire, an'' bidding
her not to be alarmed. Some sparks from
the first rocket sent up had fallen on the dry
roof of the shoe-shop, and set it on fire, the
flames creeping under the shingles and mak-
ing great headway before they were iliscover-
ed. It was a long time since there had been
a fire in Belvidere, and the excited people
hardly knew how to act. Bo^^er had always
been tolerably well prepared for such an
emergency, but matters at Millbank were
managed differently now from what they

eh(

ill

"■'^ auHl to Mr^ IT' 1? "*^

J^'-bedsTe'c:;;,*"' and V;'t'^^^"^«' h^s w ?e TfT^^t^ and a tie it',"'"*'^^^

^«w„ among her nnf" *^« ^ W "A/^" «3^«« which ''" ^*« «on,ethu,! nT\r"
«'atchii,ff thf fl Pi^^ows and rath!'. • ^^^^ with Zr jPf^^ented his t- t- ^f ^^''ck

«"e part of th^T'^' '^^ *he7atL,t'!!^''^"W ^1 n in 'in ""* ^«'' ^^'"Pwaslff^ ^l^^'""^*

13S

MILLBANK ; OR,

the Lord." Hester bad rather enjoyed the
firo, felt as if justice was being meted to Mm.
Walter Scott, who cried and wrung her hands
anri reproached the people for standing idle
and seeing her son's property burned before
their eyes. Hester ached to give her a piece
of her mind, but contented herself with say-
ing in her presence, "that folks didn't seem
very anxious. She guessed if it had bedn
Roger's shop they'd have stepped more live-
ly, and not sat on the fence, a whole bate
on 'em, doin' nothin."

" I «;«8 a little mad at 'em," she wrote to
Magdalen, "and felt pretty bad when the
ruff tumbled in, but I didn't screech as that
v:oman (meaning Mrs. Walter Scott) did.
She nigh about fainted away, and they car-
ried her into Miss Perkins' house and flung
water in her face till them curls of hern were
just nothiu' but strings. T'other one. Miss
Franklin, wasn't there, and I heard that she
lay abed the whole time and watch-
ed it from the winder. That's a
nice wife for you. Oh, I tell you, he'll get
his pay for takin' the property from Roger,
and givin' such a party as he did, and only
invitin' fust cut in town, and not all of them.
There was Miss Jenks, and Miss Smith and
Miss Spencer s'posed of course they'd have
an invite, and Miss Jenks got her a new
gown and had it made in Hartford, and then
wasn't bid ; and if you'll believe, that
Bneakin,' low-lived, ill-begotten horse-jockey
of a Holt was there, and his wife, with a yel-
low gownd and blue flower stuck in the mid-
die of her forehead. How he came to bo bid
nobody knows.only they say he and Frank is
thick as molasses, and agree on the
boss question. Madam's sister was there
enough lookin' girl, a pretty with
with yellow curls and blue eyes, and it's
talked that she's to live there, and the whole
coboodle of 'em. A nice time they'll have
with Mrs. Walter Scott, who holds her head
so high that her neck must sometimes ache.
You or to see 'em ride on horseback to Mill
bank ; Miss Franklin in black velvet, her sis-
ter in blue, and even old madam has gone at
it, and I seen her a canterin' by oa a chest-
nut mare that coat the dear knows what.
Think ou't, a woman of her age, with arounil
hat and feather, ridin' a boss. It's just ridi-
culous, I call it. I'm goin' home to-morrow,
for Roger and Aleck is gettin' kind of un-
easy. Roger is a grown' man. He's got
some agency in the mill to Schodick and the
shop, and Jie's makin' lots of money, and
folks look up to him and • msult him till he's
the fust man in town. I wish you two
would come together some day, and I can't
help thiukin' you will. Nothiu' would suit
me better, though I was hard on you once
about, the will. I was about crazy them

days, but that's all got along with, and so
good-bye.

••Hester F!,oYD."

"There goes the quality from MilJbank
out to have a picnic, and the young madam
is ridin' with another man. Nice doin's so
soon, though I doa't blame her for bein' sick
of Frank. He's growng real fat and pussy-
like, and twists up them few white hairs
about his mouth till they look like a shoe-
maker's waxed end.

" Yours again to command,

"H. Floyd."

CHAPTER XLIX.

HOW TUEY LIVED AT MILLBANK.

Mrs. Walter Scott knew nothing of the
hundred thousand dollars settled upon Bell,
or of the arrangement for the entire family
to live henceforth at Millbank. She was well
pleased, however, to have Judge Burleigh
and Grace and Charlie there for a few day->,
with other guests from Boston and Now
York. They were apart of the weddin^^
festivities, and she enjoyed the p.clat of hav-
ing so many young people of stylo and dis-
tinction in the house, and enjoyed the grand
dmners, too, which occupied three hours
and for which the ladies dressed so elaborate-
ly, the bride wearing something new each day,
and astonishing the servants with the length of
her train and the size of her hoops, and she
enjoyed for a time the dance and the song,
and hilarity in the evening, but she began at
last to grow weary of it all, and to sigh for
a little quiet ; and greatly to Frank's sur-
prise and Bell's delight, she gave up the
trip to Saratoga, and saw the bridal party
depart without her one morning a few da^ s
after the party.

The United States was their destination,
andthe town was soon teeming with gossij)
of the bride who sported so exquisite jewel-
lery and wore so magniHcent dresses and
snubbed her husband so mercilessly. Frank's
turn-out, too, was commented on and admired,
and he had the satisfaction of knowing that
his carriage and his horses were the tinest in
town ; but for any genuine domtstio
happiness he enjoyed, he might as well have
been without a wife as with one.

One day Bell expressed a desire for a glass
of water from the spring on the grounds of
the Clarendon, and as she knew she was ex-
quisi^tely dressed, and sure to create a sens;'-
tion all along the street, she started with
Grace and her husband fur the spring. Ti.o
Clarendon was not full, though it had the
reputation of entertaining the very creme de
la creme, those who preferred cool shades,
and pure air and fresh furniture and quiet,

1
f
t
I

an(

ing

evil

inti

caai

the

hear

Ware

his J

turn

chair
it Jo(
said i
obeye
his an
put he
Grace,
keep I
knew ^
voices j
magnifi
Costly a
to the
y^honi
greatly
tJiey wei
and trie(
f "Jp, in
than his
"e turnec
seemed, a
tion of su
C^rey and

- "Speak
or their v
>^ords of g
^"S of you,
sawatthe
and dress
country gir

present mv

spi^^s risin

Wi^ was coi

«e Was PI

fouW have

lf\^ thriJ

?»at she w

herself so i

mends and

^^ra. Irviag.'

mmMm

and one was Xir ^1 TV^^'P "^oS/
the braids of the nM^ *'''««*«"* hair wLf'
«nd abundant a^^** '»'«'•« 'lark and J '^
middle-aid « ^ ^hite.haired mo^^°''^

;"/,V th; sho;t';T^,.^^""K'nar;as staS'
casionaJIy heard as^thi ^J '*"«hter wf re o.
ward PranJr ^. toward BeJl «n^ , ^er

of 'keir wl"°^? ""d you hear th. „,„
country ,Jj- "-"ribin, t„ »i-«^Wv

?;sj°t?^'''''^*'i°'?o„.?^i:°r "■•" to

f??!i^NO'S irARD.

"•^r cnair for her an^V'i V'*"« '^rou^hL

«d in SamVi'^anVr^-' "'« ^^^y- remain
J'^vr a great ^^al^o tL'"l^ *'''^^ time tJey
tH-een Bejj and the M,^ts Gr?'^.'.' ^'^''^ 1^-
"P a strong hkinir whi u '^®>' f'ere sprani/
considerinf ho!^tuke\h''-^ "^^^^ ^'^^nge^
everything. OaceTU^^kZ^' I? «^'""«
ot Koger, who. he sa.V^^^ *° ^^Jagdalen
famou^y. both as to m?n ' T'? /«"'"« on
abruj 1^^ ^?.">o" two m^ar "^ P^ri^sT ',

'fa'>VthewI;"t2^f/ *'^- '^'her'ert
Ere Maedalpn „ I J ^ *'*" «ee. » ""

J»«M to J„f„'eTfP'^?",!.fV;t"'<'V marry...

know. He's af '''•'i ' ^^'^

'nean to write and telj\-' "°^ ^^il^ng.' j

commence 'a letter to Rn""'^?" *>aukS

many of them leaving l^ themselves badJv

d SrkV^^^^g -d^ttaVeThJrat'^'''^'^^' -'*
tJrunken overseer. ^ ^'^ absence, and a

^f Wvs:a''c:t'.r\r'' ^-Mo

^^^rs. J^rankJin tej] tliA „ '*^''^'^ ^"^cott heard

^ ^■«.ts-#"*''-l;:■^,-''^«
■"« between Mrs F„ '?]!;;'" "', ■""'""tancl.

"•esard to rooms wh,?. ,1° »"'' J^«"y witli
S»f which cam; from It ?■"""">■ °' C
feS? T'SS™ looked" rv,^,fT" '" "" «■

fc;'"7hi::£^sro",„\tt;,-

■4

140

MILLBANK; OR,

prove ; Imt there was aomethinp^ in the
i.'leam of Mrs. Bell's black eyes which waru-
ed her to be careful what she said. She was
n little afnii.l of Bell and so kept quiet until
Fho heard from her own maid that " the old
gentleman " wa? putting his books on the
slielves, which, unknown to her, had been
mveyed into his room, and was arranging a
lot of Hlnnes, and mails, and birds. 'J'hen she
could kftep still no longer, but attacked her
son with the question ;

" Are all the Burleighs tolive here in fu-
ture ? I did not suppose you married the
entire family."

Frank had looked forward to a time
when some such question would be pro-
]»ounded to him, and was glad it had come.
Once he had been afraid of his mother, and
he was still a good deal in awe of her and her
o|)inion9, but upstairs was a lady whom he
feared more, though she had never spoken
to him except in the mildest, softest man-
ner, and he wisely resolved to let his mother
know the worst v/hich had befallen her, and
told her, as gently as possible, and with the
tone of one who was communicating a piece
of good news, that the Burleighs were a
ra:her singular family, very strongly attach-
ed to eacli other ; ye8,?"en/strongly|attached,
that they had never been separated,and that
Bell had accepted him only on condition that
they should not be separated, but live to-
gether atMillbank as they had done at Bos-
ton.

There was intense scorn in Mrs. Walter
Scott's eyes, and in her voice, as she said,
" And so you have taken upon yourself the
maintenance of four instead of one !"

"Why, no, — not exactly, — that is, —
Jadge Burleigh and Charlie, and— yes, and
Charlie—"

Frank was getting matters somewhat
confused, and did not quite know how to
make it clear to his mother's mind that
Charlie would only trouble them till ha
was set up in business, and that Judge
Burleigh's society and the pleasure of hav-
ing so polished and agreeable a gentleman in
the house was a sufBcinnt compensation for
any expense he might be to them ; but she
nnderstod him at last, and knew that the
Judge and Charlie were there for good, and
the rooms they occupied had been fitted up
expressly for them without a reference to
her or her wishes in the matter. Had she
known of the hundred thousand made over
to Bell she would have gone mad. As it
was, she flew into a towering passion, ac-
cusing Frank of being in leading-strings and
henpecked, and threatening to leave and go
back to New York, as she presumed he
wished she would. Frank did not wish any
buch thing. His mother was more neces-

sary to him now than before his marriage, for
he was generally sure of her sympathy, which
was more than he could say of his wife. So
he soothed and quieted her as best he could,
and when she referred to his recent loss by
lire, and asked how he could burden himself
by so large a family, he told h^r a lie, and
said he should be able to recover a part of
the insurance, and that even if he did not,
his income was sufficient to warrant his pre*
sent style of living, and she need have no
fears for him ; or if she had, he would tiettle
something upon her at once, so that in case
he failed entirely she would not be penniless.
This was a happy thought, and Mrs. Walter
Scott consented to be moUifled and let the
Burleighs remain in quiet in consideration of
twenty-live thousand dollars in bonds and
mortgages and railroad stock which Frank
agreed to give her, and which he did convey
that very day. She had at first asktd fifty
thousand, but had agreed to be satisfied with
twenty.five, and Frank went to Lis dinner a
poorer man by over two hundred thouband
dollars than he had been when Millbank came
into his possession. His wife's settlement
and his mother's,and his recent expenditures,
had drawn largely upon his means for pro-
curing ready money whenever he wanted it,
and as he sat at his table, loaded with silver
and groaning with luxuries, he felt almost
as poor as he had done in days gone by,when
he had not enough to pay hia tailor, and fur-
nish himself with cigars. And still he was
rich in lands, and the mill, and houses, and
he tried to shake off his feeling of despond-
ency and to believe himself very happy with
that beautiful wife beside him, who let him
pare her peach for her, and took grapes from
his own cluster, and pb,yfully pushed the
wine bottle aside when he was about to help
himself for a second time.

Mrs. Walter Scott was cold as an icicle, and
not all the judge's suavity of manner had
power to thaw her. She had promised not to
say anything disagreeable to the Burleighs,
but her face was very expressive of her dis-
like, and she could hardly answer the Judge
or Charlie with common civility. She did
not object to Grace ; and she was even guilty
of wishing Frank's choice had fallen upon
the younger rather than the elder sister,
against whom she could, as yet, bring no ac-
cusation, but whom she distrusted and
secretly feared. As Frank's wife, she was
mistress of Millbank, and though she made
no show of her authority, her power was
felt in everything ; and after she had
reigned a month or more, not a servant,
with the exception of Mrs. Walter Scott's
own maid, went to their former mibtress
for orders, but received them from the new
lady, who was very popular with them, and

I p«

eh
, to

■ I tht

pia
puj
Ora
hau
G
banl
the
little
stud I
franJ
and
found
him a I
receiv
presen

lUuny 1

ed he t

Had h

and boi

she woi

euoHgh

style, a

being th

pensive i

*o haudJ<

polite an

*eH' week

almost al

studied h<

*he mattei

his own r

f^ought as

went to th

made Holfc

gaveJiim ,

and single i

and H-heu

got hia mea

f/auk had 1

.'Joe Holt.

judge and r

and ought tc

And so
Christmas h
^^ a grand
^nere from
Jnends of 1
?ept up somt
}n the mornin
became very
auiongthem (
demauiy dnun

»nd given into
rose in her mi,

and sent the fj
Charlie a lectuj
^^ai join the G(

who, to
towij.

« certain ex ten f

l..n,l,. '•'' ">"'■> poor SmTly "of °",?»J

P«"«fve arSr^«?.«^ tlet^u7f'f ^"'^

polite anV '"''■^- Sihe v T . "^^ thao
*««' iJeeks r"'""« t^^a-us W'*^*>'« very
afeiosi all ''^""^'i tf' pet or n' ^"' ^^^e^ a

t^^ matter on '''"' ^'^ everytSii' '^"«' and
his own m."''*«s and //„//. ,^' ®*««Pfc in

^«"? o the rl'"^ ^^'•^e^ as he il^''^' «°d
«»*de Hoit /w''\^'^^ bet verv .«^°1«' ^^d

^"d ^iZleZTy *« expend on do'^K? ''' «"d
^^<i Xn *'"''*"^ t'ustedhim •"^^?.*«*'n«

f^^ank had „"! ° '^« ^ he waTi ^^ ^"it

became verv m,- '' ^^'ne of the v! ^^"*^^
among them rh '^ *"^ "nnunai ""^ "^^"i

aodgiven nto /. *"'* ^»« ^arrSfn v **' "«■
rose in her '^i" ''*''« ^^ his S i t^' T*"

^22!!!i!mo.S WARD.

141

, «vent8, hekeir/i ""''^^uis suia ^'''^'''-~
«"'y came ouro/'i. '"*'"' ^"'- two d./^ "^^

her Jet I. ^ swearini: at 7 ^'-y "wtho
AudA5r«"'lv*"^^'^iiatd ii*^;' *"-' bid.ii^"

own ,. '"®' and staved n ' ^^bin aJon,,

•n "Sir ■'"«' ^°' »sr'. "^V" i^"'

«ndthe2 '""''•hJike AJrs vv*"^^' ^''''''"'^«

'.-noS;;^'^'''-'''^^aw,;-7s^s

Hesujiim^"ea loieave at onceV^ "iy^ th^t

This letter har? k ' -^^<'i'uvu Gij^v ••

«-'"et 'the" '* ""'' ^"^Cazid'^r ""^'^
-^«vv Vork w °'^ '"ail a new«. ^'^^ ^^^^''^

i"^ oi W n« ' ^'^^a^rapi wl? n '' ^«'««il'.

W«re Mr A.fu*^® -t'ersia " T^ f , ' *'"oag

and Jadv ^^jj^'"""'", and Air ,^"«hter, Air^.

Whenito^:Vt^-^;^ood.bye.'«

MILLBANK ; OR]

self aii:l lliti newspaper paragraph and peu-
cil-iniirka uouHrineil him in thiti belief.

"(Jood-bye, Roger, good-bye."

His white Upa whispered tlie words, which
seemed to run into each other and grow dim
and biurred an the great tears gathered in his
eyes and obscured his virion.

" (jrood-bye, Roger, good-bye."

Yea, it was good-bye for ever now, and he
felt it in its full force, and bowed his head
upon his hands and asked for strength to
bear this new pain, which yet was not new,
for he had long felt that Magdalen was not
for him. But the pain, tltough old, whs
keener, hartler to bear, and hurt as it had
never hurt before, for now the barrier bo-
tween them, as he believed, was a hu8l)and,
and that for a time seemed worse than death.

Again the rock under the evergreen on
the liillside witnessed the tears ar.d the pray-
ers and the anguish of the man whose face
began to look old and worn, and who, the
people said, was working too hard and hitd
taken too much upon his hands. He was
the superintendent now of the cotton mill,
which had been enlarged, and of the shoe-
shop erected since his residence in .Schodick.
His profession, too, was not neglected, and
the little office on the green still bore his
name, and all the farmers for miles around
asked for "Squire Irving," as they called
him, when they came into town on business
pertaining to the law. His word was trusted
before that of any other. What Squire Ir-
ving said was true, and no one thought of
doubting it. To him the widows came on
behalf ot their fatherless children, and he
listened patiently and advised them always
for the l)e3t, and took charge of their slemler
means and made the most of them. The
interests of orphan children, too, were com-
mitted to his care, so that he fortunately had
little time to indulge in sentiment or sorrow,
except at night, when the day's labour was
over, and he was free to dwell upon the
hopes of the past, the bitter disappointment
of the present, and the dreariness of the fu-
ture.

After that paragraph in the newspaper he
had heard no more of the Greys, and had
oidy mentioned them once. Then he t<dd
Hester of Magdalen's marriage with the
young man who had come to see them, and
whom Hester remembered perfectly.

Hester did not believe a word of it, she
said ; but Roger replied Magdalen herself
had sent him the paper, while Mr. Grey had
written, so there could be no mistake. Tlien
Hester accepted it as^a fact, and looking in
her boy's face and seeing there the pain
he tried so hard to suppress, she felt her own

heart throbbing with a keener

regret

and

sense of loss than she would have felt if
Roger had not cared so much.

" That settles the ])usines8 for him," she
said. "He'll never merry now, and I may
as well send otF to the heathen that cribby
(luilt I've been piecin' at odd spella, thinkin'
the time might come when Roger's wife
would Hnd it handy."

And as she thus soliloquized old Hester
washed her tea-dishes by the kitchen sink,
and two jjreat tears rolled down her nose and
dropped into the dish water. After th.at she
never mentioned Magdalen, and as the quilt
was not ouito Hnished, she laid it away in
the caudle-box cradle which stood in the
attic chamber, and over which she some-
times bent for five minutes or more, while
her thoughts were back in the past ; and she
saw again the little girl who had sat so often
in that cradle, and whose dear little feet
were wandering how amid the womlers of the
Old NAorld.

And so the winter, and the spring, and the
summer went, by, and in the autumn Frank
came for a few days to Schodick,
looking almost as old as Roger, and a great
deal stouter and redder in the face than
when we saw him last ; while a certain in-
iiamed look in the eye told that Bell's argu-
ments on the subject of temperance had not
prevailed with him as eflfectually as they had
with her brother Charlie. Frank's love of
wine had increased and grc>wn itito a fond-
ness for brandy ; but during his stay in
Schodick he abstained from both, and seem-
ed much like himself. Very freely he dis-
cussed his affairs with Roger, who pitied him
from his heart, for he saw that his life was
not a pleasant one.

With regard to his domestic troubles,
Roger forbore to make any remarks, but he
advised to the best of his ability about the
business matters, which were not in a very
good condition. The shoe-shop had not been
rebuilt ; there was always trouble with the
factory hands ; they were either quitting
entirely, or striking for higher wages ; aad
the revenues were not what Frank thought
they ought to be. Ready money was hard
to get ; and he was oftentimes troubled for
means to pay the household expenses, which
were frightfully large. As well as he could,
Roger comforted the disheartened man, and
promised to go to Millbank soon and see
what he could do towards smoothing and
lubricating the business machinery, and
Frank while listening to him began to feel
very hopeful of the future, and grew light-
hearted and cheerful again, and ready to talk
of something besides himself. And 30 it
came about, as he sat with Roge* one even-
ing, he said to him :

•• By the way, Roger, do you ever hear

I
R
V.

y„

th;
Wli

fcye
^ ftin,
cone
Jiot
'i'iie
no .
deat,
pair
ed.

Rot
most
and tl
tiled
boing
Lookn
all tht
the re!
wliat £
after a i
"Jto,
cou],i t^
ine ail y
*oy Way

^^(Jg^v as
daien aiw
iJot to ha

"^ yoarae,
you. Ale

f "t you t(
/. "sed yo
"sten to n

V What
niakeit <,

could Ft^,

^'ays and Hi
towiuAw,
^ow her xv%

. /fyouh

'"« l>ack anc

*".'^, eten hov

l^^d If 8he M.,

*^e ^iU and

^'.?,,"« doub

hare wron^^
a"J hia voic

„ ^f«'ger (Jul not . h u , ««'-e they

" Tl,„„,|" "• "' ^unpe," ^ Seymour.
"«t AiaL'daf..,. ' { *"' « *"> one I* • '" "'8

Ze^^^nvmo'S .VARD.

no cir o,. """■"«'' ^«'y Quiif/ •'' «"y'""ur
<leath i S "'^''•"""t of thi ''* r "', >'^"'e ;

^'- -iti . r.ru^'« -' .for irwir! r--^

"V Sayniour

^^^-^^^tat£: *^*' ^eC^"« about u«
'*'' t/.e past » ""'^« "°% and rl''"".''^^^-

altera , n». ^*^« I'een toLi . ^""^ast of

*'^?:,^ay, and out ltf7' ^'^^ '^tVlt^U
p ^ P'on.ise not t^. I "'^ ^^^«i« of it '^ ""^

i used v! ^'^''"' to niv a,S ^""' *"'! then
'*= wiii L^ '*' "wry me r °>« wkeii i

«a»iietoa .- • ^"" He^e "'"^ ^«'- wh«u

a'uund her T'rr" -^^ZtlT^'"'' «^^«
"lessairevm? *""* ^ did Jt ^ i ?'' ^^assi,,^

f^'^i'^ank^l^n';^^^^^ ^'^^ J ^az S ^^^^
to marry me if , V'""*?*!' 3 oii .. ** ^"". 'f

^as to fiv aor!. ""'' and lizs H. ^'''^'^ ^^
^'^♦^«' WW. 7' t)ut neither? '^'^'^'^•-'J

^"^ttimeio^^,^'^'-^. and Would i'^" "^■

paiamsH «... '"'-"odick hjjjs „,■, ""-house

dehant. amf *^''^''' and his nw^f and sell.

^^w. U'.fL^V. "Pou her Lv if i ^"^^^ «ozno

dwt jr^^^« b/eaciz, and' K ^,^; ^^^e^v
andCharvbdT. /u *'"'"« ''^ear of ^! ,f "J""^>i

' '^'"'^ t^^oug^U thas

:f!

144

MILLBANK ; OR,

o.iu or two iixiru visit! to hit u iclu nii^ht
niaku a id hi of him. Poor Kruiik, witli &11
hia uuulih uixl olo^ariuu, ami his hAiidHoinc
wifo, wan far inoru to l>u pitiuil than ilogur,
to whiiin Itail liuoii Hiiilduiily opoiiud u now
world (if hai)[iiiiuHM, ni>d whoHU fucu uuaHt><l
to wear thu old tirud look it had worn ho
long, and who thu pttoplu naid wan growinit
yoiiii^' liVcry day. ilu fult within hiinHulf
nuw lifu and vigour, and thnnkud Huavuu
for thu hope He <t at luHt to liglitun tliu thick
darknuHH in uliioh lio liad gropud ho long.
Very anxiously hu wAitud for PVank's luttur,
which was to givu him Mr. (Jruy's addrosH,
and whuu at last it camu hu wrot<^ at oncu to
Magdalen, and told hurof liislovu and hopua,
und asked if aho would let him comu for her
V fiun Hhu returned to America, an(' taku her
with him to his lioniu among the hilla.

"It is not MiUbank," hu wrote, "but,
save that Mdlhank in sacred to mo for thu
roason that your dear prcsunoo has hallowed
every spot, 1 lovu this home ua well as I did
that, or tlunk 1 do. lUit you may not, and
if you eumu to me I shall build anotlier
lious", more in accordance with my bright
bird, whose cage must l)e a handsomer one
than this <dd New England farm-house."

This letter was sent to the care of Mr.
(Jrey, and then, long before he could reason-
ably hope for an answer, Roger began to
expect one, and the daily mail was wait-
ed for with an eagerness and excitement
painful to enditre, especially as constant
disappointment was the only result of that
watching and waiting and terrible suspense.
Magdalen did not write, and days and weeks
and months went by, and Iloger grew old
again, and there were more white hairs in
bis bruwu beard, and he ceased to talk about
tlie new house he was going to build, and
seemed indifierent to everything but the
troubles at MiUbank, which were upon the
increase, and which finally resulted in Mrs.
Franklin Irving taking her father and bro-
ther and sister, and going ofT to Europe on a
pleasant tour. Frank was glad to have
them go, and feeling free once more, plunged
into all his former habits of dissipation, and
kept Holt with him constantly as his chief
man of business, and rarely examined his
accounts', and knew less how he stood than
did his neighbours, who were watching hia
headlong course and predicting that it would
80UU end in ruin.

CHAFTFll LI.

MAGDALEN IS COMING^ HOMK.

The Greys had been gone little more than
three years and a half, and the soft winds of
June were kissing the ripples of the sea on
the morning whuu they finally embarked for

A..iori(;a. They had travelled all over Eii.
rope, from sunny Kranoe to coMor, ble.ikor
Kusaia, but had atoppeil thu lonjjeHt at thu
Islf of iHchia, where, at the " I'lec )la Sonti.
nulla," another littlu life camu into their
midst, and (Juy Suymonr nearly went wiM
with joyovur his beautiful littlu boy, vhoNo
soft, blue eyeH ami golden brown hair were
so much like Alice's. Magdalen wan purm.t-
tud to name the wonderful baby, and witlioui
a moment'H heaitancy nhe naid, " I would
like him to be called after the best man I
ever know — ' Roger Irving.' "

"()h,.VIaL;dalena mia, you don't forgot liim,
do you ? Love once love for ever, is your
maxim," Oay aaid, playfully ; but he ap-
proved the name, and so did Alice, who
knew more of Magdalen's heart-history now
than she once ha(t done, and wlio witii (iiiy
had rovolvud many ulana for bringing llogur
and Magdalen together.

Mr. (jircy did not ansent (luito so readily
to the name, though he diil not oppose ir.
He merely said, " iloger Bounds rather old
for a baby ; but do as you like, — do as you
like."

So they called the baby Roger Irving, ami
Maf^tlalen was godmother, and her tears full
like a baptismal shower upon the littlu face
as she thought of her own babyhood, and the
man whom she had loved so long, and who
was continually in her thoughts. She knew
he was not married ; she h..<l heard tliat
from the liurleighs, who came one day to the
" PiccoU Seutinella," bringing news direct
from home.

" Not married yet, and is not likely to
be," Mrs. Franklin Irving had said, as she
sat talking with Magdalen, whose voice
was rather unsteady when shu asked fur
Roger.

Quick to read expres'sions of thought and
feeling. Bell noted the Hush on tlie young
girl's face, and the tremor in her voice, and
felt that she had the key to Roger's bachelor-
hood. She had met him twice, — once in
Boston and onceat MiUbank, — &nd had liked
him very much, and shown her liking in
many ways, and even laid a littlu snare, hop-
ing to entangle him for Grace. Tliis Frank
saw, and told her " to hang up her fiddle,
for Roger's heart was disposed of long ago to
one who loved him in return, but who was
labouring under some mistake. "

Bell had forgotten this, but it came back
to her attain with Magdalen at her side, and
she told her "rumour said there was a cause
for Roger's celibacy ; that he loved a young
girl who had once lived with him, and that
he was only waiting for chance to bring her
in his way again." Then she told how popu-
lar he was, and how greatly beloved by the

the

circ

who

the,

hirna

eJ fr

«fc an

affaim

debt i

"ess n

tune

daughl

<J«len I

than h<

aniouDt

sick ouj

little, b

irving, ,

»Qd wile

and at h

Wrong.

families i

""■ght for

i'otteo, bi

"ke to See

.^aiited to

^ated him

mjoe. J ),,

from J^ew .

fancy Franl

7^^e« I'm d,

"'™ «o. and

3'e«,~--teU he

"•'^ and

ie^'«v/^o. „.,„„

^ Pi-ay, -n*! I

the RK- " ^'emianv i» P " "er fat>i«/ sconce ; buf i. • " ^^'th in }.«.. i '^S^'tten.

146

MILLBANK ; OR,

□esa for him ; and when the Grey" landed in
New York the papers were full of the
"great failure" at Belvidere, and the day
was fixed when Mill bank was to be sold.

Guy pointed out the paraj^raph to Mag-
dalen, and then watched her as she read it.
She was very white, and there was a strant^e
gleam in her dark eyes ; but she did not
seem to be sorry. On the contrary, her face
fairly shone as she looked up and said, " I
shall buy Millbank and give it back to
Roger."

Guy knew she would do that, and he en-
couraged her in the plan, and went himself
to Belvidere, where he was a stranger, and
made all needful inquiries -incl reported to
Magdalen. Mrs. Frank had already left
Millbank with her hundred thousand, not a
dollar of which could Frank's creditors
touch, or Frank either, or that matter.

Bell held her own with an iron graRp,and so
well had she managed that none of the prin-
cipal had been spent, and when the final
crash came, and her husband told her he was
ruined, it found her prepared and ready to
abdicate at any moment. The old home in
Boston was sold, but she was able to buy a
better one, and she did so, and with her
father and sister took possession at once.
To d(. Bell justice, she carried nothing from
Millbank but her clcthi.ig and jewellery.
The rest belonged to Frank's creditors, and
she considered that it would be stealing to
take it. This she said several times for the
benefit of Mrs. Scott, who, les^ scrupulous
than her daughter-in-law, was quietly filling
her trunks and boxes with articles of value,
silver and china, and huen and bedding, and
curtains, and whatever F,he could safely stow
away. Mrs. Walter Soott was about to buy
a house, too, a cosy little cottage with hanil-
some grouads, just out of New York, on the
New Haven road She, too, had managed
well, as she supposed. She had speculated
in stocks and oil until she thought herself
worth forty thousand dollars. There was
some of it lying in the bank, where she
could draw it at any time, and some of it
still in oil, which she was assured she could
sell at an advance upon the original price.
So, what with the forty thousand and what
with the houseiiold goods she would take
from Millbank. she felt quite comfortable in
her mind, and bore the shock of her son's
failure with great ec;uaniuiity and patience.
She was glad, she said, of something to
break up tlie terrible life they were lesiding
at Millbank. For more than a vea''> and in-
deed ever since Bell's return from abroad,
scarcely a word had been exchanged between
herself and Mrs. Franklin irvuig, and each
lady had an establishment of her own, with
a separate table, a separute retinue of ser-

vants, and a separate ct^rriage. There wa^
no other way of keeping the peace, and in
desperation Frank himself had suggested
this arrangement, though he knew that the
entire support of both far.iilies would ne-
cessarily fall on him. But Frank was reck-
less, and did not greatly care. He was
going to destruction any way, he said to
Roger, who expostulated with him and warn-
ed him of the sure result of such extrava-
gance. " He was going to ruin, and he might
as well go on a grand scale, and bpt«-er too,
if that would keep peace between ihe women.

And so he went to ruin, and wrote ^o
Roger one morning :

" The smash has come,and I'm poorer than
I was when I depended on you for my
bread. Everything is to be sold, and I ca:i't
say I am sorry. It's been a torment to me.
I've never had the confidence of my men ;
they always acted as if I was an intruder,and
I felt so myself. I wish I could give the
thing back to you as c^^ar as when I took it.
I'd rather saw wood than lead the dog's life
I have led for the last five years. Bell is ge-
ing to Boston. She is rich, and maybe will
let me live with her if I pay my board !
That sounds queer, dou't it ? but I tell you,
old chap, you are better off without a wife.
I doi.'t believe in women any way. Mother
is going to New York, and I au. going to
thunder."

Roger's heart gave cae great throb of soi. •
row for his nephew when he read this letter,
and then beat wildly with the wish th \t he
could buy Millbank back. But he was not
able, and he could have wept bitterly at the
thoughts of its going to strangers. " Thy
will be done," was a leaion Roger had learned
thoroughly and he said it softly to himself,
and v/as glad hif< father did not know *hat
the Old place which bad been in the lamily
more than fifty years, was about to pass from
it for ever.

He went to Millbank and examined Frank's
affairs to see if anything could be savc'd for
the young man, who seemed so crushed, so
hopeless, and so stony. But matters were
even worse than he had feared. There was
nothing to do but to sell the entire property.
Roger could buy the mill, and the men were
anxious for him to do so,and crowded around
him with their entreaties, which Frank
warmly seuontted.

"Buy it, Roger, and let me work in it as
a common hand, I'd rather do it a thousand
times than live on my v;iie,evenif her money
did come from me."

Frank said this bitterly, and Roger's heart
ached for him as he replied that perhaps he
would buy the mill he'd think of it and
decide. It was not to be sold till after
Millbank, and his decision would depend

ne:

anc
the
pari
goir
thei
her ,
and

«Uv>U

sick

done

stars

she b

Belvic

Guy

her to

since s

zoom c

fciie loo

^m IRVIWS WAKB.

on Who bo^^^TTT— _::--^tv^G'S WARD.

Alice /t ">" »"Wered R„ '^,°"''««"
take mv 1 ^""'^ank ia mine tu ^°' "or

^"e had it .}'
^^°dick „nannI:nS'^«f^-her going to

daJen. o .„. „«- , , -

house „.. ./ r^i-,. . „ p^-^

5^'teSSr^^i^^..:" :-^^S?'^^S

Jtnirror.

bed. ^""''^^"^^^t. and read Guy's '"""'' ^'^'^

148

MILLBANK ; OR,

brightness of his life. He could not forget
hor, though her name was never on his lips,
save as he bore it night and morning to t^
Throne of Grace, or whispered ittohimse..
in the loneliness oi his room, or up among
the pines, where she always seemed near to
him. He had given up all hope of ever
calling her his own. His unanswered letter
had driven him to thai, and still the days
•^ ere brighter and life seemed far more desir-
able afier he knew that she had returned,
that the same sky smiled on them both by
day, and the san.e stars kept watch over
then^ at night.

"Guy Seymour bought it for Magdalen,"
he said, as he held the telegram in his
trembling hand. " Yes, I see ; her father
has left her rich, and she has bought Mill-
bank, and means perhaps to live there ; but
not alone, surely not alone in that great
house ;" and then Roger went oft" into a train
of speculation as to Magdalen's probable in-
tentions. Was Guy to be there with Alice,
or was there a prospective husband across
the sea ? Eoger grew hot and faint when he
thought of that, and felt a headache coming
on, and said to his partner that he would go
home and rest a while. He told Heater of
the telegram ; and with a woman's ready wit
she guessf.d what Magdalen's intentions
might be, but gave no sign to Roger. She
saw how pale he was looking, and was pre-
pared to hear of his headache, and made him
some tea, i%nd told him to keep still and not
bother about Frank's affairs.

" You've just tired yourself to death over
'em," she SiMd, "and it's no wonder you are
sick."

He was better the next day, and went as
usual to his> office, but the next morning his
headache h^^d returned with redoubled vio-
lence. And while Magdalen was making
her way to the old-fashioned farm-house
covered with vines and surrounded with
flowers and shrubs, he was sleeping quietly
upon the couch in his room, unmindful of
the great happiness in store for him — the
great surprise, coming nearer and nearer as
Magdalen hastened her footsteps, her heart
beating almoet to bursting when at a sudden
turn in the road she came upon the house
which they told her was Mr. Irving's.

"The first one round the corner. You'll
know it by the heap of flowers, and the

Sretty yard," a boy had said, and Magdalen
ad almost run, bo eager was she to be
there.

"Oh, how beautiful ! I should know
Roger lived here," she said, as she stopped
to admire the velvety turf in which patches
of bright flowers were blooming, the fanciful
beds, the borders and walks, and the signs
of taste and care everywhere visible.

She did not think of the old house, with
its low windows and doors, and signs of
antiquity. She saw only the marks of
cultivation around it, and thought it was
Roger's home. The windows of an upper
room were open, and a rustic basket of ivy
and geraniums and verbenas was standing
in ond of them, while a book with the paper
folder in it was in the other, and across both
white curtains were hanging, the summer
wind moving them in and out with a slow,
gentle motion.

" I know that this is Roger's room,"
Magdalen said, and a vague desire seized her
that he might receive Millbank from her
^hero.

Old Hester Floyd had finished her work
and was about to " tidy herself up a little,"
when a rustling movement at the door at-
tracted her attention, and she turned to find
Magdalen standing there, her dark eyes
bright as diamonds, her cheeks flushed and
burning with excitement, her lips apart a"d
her hands clasped together, as she bb..u
slightly forward across the kitchen threshold.
With a scream, Hester bounded towards her,
and dragging her into the room, exclaimed,
" Magdalen, Magdalen, I knew it, I knew
it. I said something was going to happen
when the rooster crowed so this morning —
somebody going to come ; but I did not
dream of you, Magdalen, oh ! Magdalen."
She kept repeating the name, and v th her
hard, rough hands held and rubbed the soft
white fingers she had clasped ; ther, as the
joy kept growing, she sobbed aloud and
broke down entirely.

"Oh! Magdalen," she said, "I am so
glad for him. He has wanted you and
missed you all the time, though he never
mentioned your name. "

Something in the face or manner of the
younger woman must have communicated
itself to the mind of the elder, for Magdalen
had given no reason for her sudden appear-
ance at Schodick, or sign of what she meant
to do. But Hester took her coming as a
good omen for Roger, and kept repeating,
"I'm so glad, so glad for Roger."

"How do you know he wants me,
if, as you say, he never mentions my
name ?" Magdalen asked, and Hester
replied, " flow do we know the
sun shines when we can't hear it ?
We can see and feel, can't we ? And so I
know you ain't long out ef Roger's mind,
and ain't been since we moved here, and he
brung the candle-box cradle with him just
because you once slept in it."

" Did Roger do that? Did he bring my
cradle from Millbank ? Why didn't you tell
me before ?" Magdalen askid, her eyes shin-

i
a
b:
h

re
q«

an*
J

dai
Wh
to
Ma,

• <

mea

shou

The

toR,

docn

knees

youn^

could

paper

then c

its cor

reads

must 1

live th

"Yo

you thi

nierrv i

" Dn

what he

Oldt

■till hel(

»nto the

•nd said,

Want to

At the

"{^-iti. tear, of io^7^;;~;;^^f;^^^^

t>« he brought it by exn ' ^^ '. ""^ ^"''got

q°'Jt. whi?h r?id Sot st'lnr*^ °f *he crfbby
of reaching the heath * ««««oda chance
iour before. **''^° *« '* had done ea|

He^'trt:id he^TlJ^J^-^^^-^^n asked anj I
P]* ined of ever snttSi"'^' "« ^*''com
adding. "He's in h^« 7® ^^^ of the sale '
°P as nice as anybodv'I ?' ''.^'''^ " Sed
tures and a JittJe Sf J ^'f . ^^""I's and p*'.

Mfgf C tked7exT':„^^«^^ ^'"bank ?" |
« yes. Frank .',*"" Wester replied •
Seymour bought L*!^t^'-«Pi>ed th^tMr '

a? white as a ghost a J?' ^^^ ^^oger wa*
«nce. Magdalen WJatl^ heen «4 e^e,

'>««kfor? BeyougoYn.foir" ^">^ ^i^'

Hester asked this n,L ^''.^'a'-ned ?"
ly. and Magdalenl e?es te * i*"« *"^io«s-
repbed, - j think so h! . ^^ 'l*""''^^ as she
quite certain T ^j ' tester, but I'm Tf
»»y«elf, Cg. • l"' h'* ^"y MillbLkfor

dalentand'Httrr/^ ita grasp on Ma/
white as her cap border '" u'^^'" almost £

Wh,t," Y- bought It for Koger "t*d

rrih'rs7oi7,''\bi.. x«.3th^

should give it back and T '\"^^^ that i
^^« de'^d is in my pocket T}''' *« ^« 'o!
*o i^o»er.-see," and Jh ' J"fJ^^ ""''^ to him
document towardrHester 1^ *^^ P^««ious
icnees now, ^iBsintTI ' ^^° was on her
young girj'tu,f,^'''S«*'en the dress nf fi

couId^hfrdVtSevelt"? ^^«*'*"t[o? ^'sf
must be true. "Sf '^''■^ ''vern stand. It

"oidH"^'" ^""-'">. and ...

•nl'o' »?'■'«"''»' --rhVd" "riT ■ ."'■' »■=»

«d saM "f.^Ar-"' Pid tofhtfe ""
wanf * ' ^'^ *8 up therfi . j! '^"® stair door,
want to see iam. " ^ ^'^ ' ^ome on if you

At the head of the stairs Hp«f

'™ iJester paused a

^2^^JRm,a'8 WARD.

I ZfSyT' He's a7Con\''h'T*''«° ^^ispered
go back?" "^'^^PontheJounge. ShaJJwe

S^S'tl^--;^hi„V' Magdalen
«o'tly down the stairf wh'f *'vr^"«ter stole
Ped carefully across Vrfu^^^^a^en -ten-
[ooin, and .losing the doJr k\''1"^^ °f tC
booking upon Roger "^ ^^^'"'^ ^er stood

'*.

^^CHAPTER LIV

Pam were felt even in K^ f ""' ^t «» if the
d-ilen's finge,^ tii . ^' "^^"P- How Mat!
curls, and o tingled to thread t"^^
K^„ , " smooth fhof "-"reaa those
brow ; but «he dared nnf f"^^' ^^ite
waking him, and she K ?i ^'"' f^'^r of
and stood looking at him 'l'^ ber breati,
a keen throb of sorrow a'l^ '^'^'' ^««1' 4
had changed and knrT what'hlT ^i!'^ bf
nirn He was much th;. , bad chanted

saw him last and h thinner than when rI,«
|;aou.h and a' fet thr^ T' ^"^^« ^bou? hi
brown beard, whTle },«''' ^^ «"^er in h *

Pusht^irt^o^1,rs!r?n?-^-*'-dsbe

»Pon It prepared to M^.ch? ^''^*^"« bersel?
beavy slumber ended 4 a'ld wait until his

«d she looked around "!^ ^'^^^^ «be waij!

niarksofa refine,? +. ^"'^ "«ted all th«
gathered about hi^ *ff *", ^b.ch Roger had
the flowers anj ^eFs !,^h'N'' *^« P^^tufe^
orayon sketch of herself ^ ^"'"y- * little
from memory an.l ' ^''awa -videntlir

-t by the n^'e/b"i k7;:rr'^°^ ^ afsS"^
f oger Irving felt t)ZT- ''^''' «^heP ^r,

beautiful wafd was mtreth'' '" "r««t m n
Jt was hanging cIosp f? t^^? * mere Jikine
Magdalen ^^aaZaJ'T'' P=«ture ^fd
where she was S.d £ ^' 't "mil she f^rto
the old trees by the .Tv^'?!^^^-" beneath

ctp" si±- «-»^-"y sSr^avI^a' ^"^^
,^ "'gn, and th^n r>* a long,

a"d niet the aJa„" '^ ,^°pr awoke

^yes. and saw hlr f ""^ ber britTht

a«d knew that Vw'n- r "^ar to hfm

"^er, else she had n^" = i^'^'bt ""^ sorrow was

, -y him as she was^:S ^r *>^^' kneeling

his and her tears 'drop.mf ^"'^^^ boldinf

tried to speak to him ^^'"^ '"^ ^ast as sh?

n|i-T:;ftr:w"f4t;''"?''' -- a" be
behi her there a moment «"!' "^ "'"'"^ and
Tnen releasing her hf 7 '° a close embrace
P^IW pale as d'eath a^d'^te^" "P^^" bS
with the neuralgic na n ™^ u ^^ prostrated

150

MILLBANK ; OR

"You take my breath away ; when did
you come, and why ?" hj asked ; and then
releasing her hands from his, Maedalen took
the deed from Iter pocket and changing her
position held it before his eyes, saying : "I
came to bring this, Eoger ; to make restitu-
tion ; to give you back Millbank, which, but
for me, you would not have lost. See, it is
made out to you ! Millbank is yours again.
I bought it with my own money — bought it
for you — I give it to you — it is yours."

She spoke rapidly and kept reitera injj
that Millbank was his, because of the look
on his face which she did not
quite understand. He was too
much bewildered and confounded to
know what to say, and for a moment was
silent, while his eyes ran rapidly over the
paper, which, beyond a doubt, made him
master of Millbank again.

" Why did you do this, Magda ?" h** said
at last, and his chin quivered a little as he
said it.

Then Magdalen burst out impulsively,
" Oh, Roger, don't look as if you were not
glad. I've thought so much about it, and
wanted to do something by way of amends.
I saved all my salary, every dollar, before I
knew I was Magdalen Grey, and was going
to send it to you, but Guy laughed me out
of it, and said you did not need it : then,
when father died and I knew I was rich, my
first thought was of you, and when 1 heard
Millbank was to be sold, I said, 'I'll buy it
for Roger ?f it takes every cent I am worth ;'
and I have bought it, and given it to you,
and you must take it and go back there and
live. I shall never be hapoy till you da"

She stopped here, but she was kneeling
still, and her tearful, flushed face was very
near to Roger, who could interrupt her
words and manner in only one way, and that
a way i^'hich made the world seem like hea-
ven to him.

"Magda." he said, winding his arm

around her and drawing her hot cheek close

to his own, '"let me ask one question. I

can't live at Millbank alone. If I take it of

'you, who wili live there with me ?"

Hester had asked a similar question, but
Magdalen did not reply to Roger just as she
had to the old lady. There was a little
dash of coquetry in her manner, which
would not perhaps have appeared had she
been less sure of her position.

" I suppose Hester will live with you, of
course," she said. " She does nicely for you
here. She is not so very old."

There was a teasing look in Magdalen'seyes,
which told Roger he had nothing to fear,
and raising himself up he drew her down
beside him and said : ** I ask you to be
candid with me, Magda. We have wasted
too much time not to be in earnest how.

Your coming to me as you have could only
be construed in one way, were you like most
girls ; but you are not. You are impulsive.
You think no evil, see no evil, but do juut
what your generous heart prompts you to
do. Now, tell me, darling, was it sympathy
and a desire to make restitution, as you
designate it, or was it love which sent you
here when I had ceased to hope you would
ever come ? Tell me, Magda, do you, can
you love your old friend and guardian, wh»
has been foolish enough to hold you in his
heart all these many years, even when he
believed himself indifTerent to you ?"

Roger wan talking in sober earnest, and
his arm deepened its clasp around Magda'a
waist, and his lips touched the shining hair
of the bowed head which drew back a mo-
ment from him, then dropped lower and
lower until it rested in his bosom, as Mag-
dalen burst into a flood of tears and sobs.
For a moment she did not try to speak ;
then, with a desperate effort to be calm,
she lifted up her head and burst out with,
" I never got your letter, never knew it was
written until a few weeks ago. Father kept
it. Forgive him, Roger ; remember he was
my father, and he is dead," she cried vehe-
mently, as she saw the dark frown gather-
ing on Roger's face. Yes, he was her father,
and he was dead, and that kept Roger from
cursing the man who had wronged him in
his childhood, through his mother, and
toujhed him still closer in his later man-
hood, by keeping him so long from Magda-
len.

" Father told me at the last," Magdalen
said. " He was sorry he kept it, and he
bads me tell you so. He did not dislike
you. It was the name, the association ; and
he hoped I might forget you, b ., I didn't.
I have remembered you all through the long
years since that dreadful day when I found
the will, and it hurt me so to think you
wanted me to marry Frank. That was the
hardest of all."

" But you know better now. I told you
in my letter of Frank's confession," Roger
said, and Magdalen replied, " Yes, I know
better now. Everything is clear, else I had
never come here to bring you Millbank,
and — and myself, if you will take me.
Will you, Roger ? It is leap-year, you
know. I have a right to ask."

She spoke playfully, and her eyes looked
straight into his own, while for answer he
took her into his arms, and kissed her fore-
head and lips and hair, and she felt that he
was praying silently over her, thanking
Heaven for this precious gift which had
come to him at last. Then he spoke to her
and said, *' I take you, Magda, willingly,
gladly ; oh, how gladly Heaven only knows ;
and as I cannot well take you without the

tei

bet

to 1

wai

tei-

■Win

up ■>.

dove

-Hi,

andf

now 1

Bui

permi

and tl

place (

and ae,

beside

who h

made 8

that if

<Jay con

all over

where s

in Belvi

"peak w

the estir

cized ai

foe.«hop. Frank wanf". "*" °f "'e oTd

J" I knew who was to K? 2*^°"^'^ ^ait un-
inow now " anA ■ , ® »* MiJlbank t
«Pon tLe f^c/ofVef wh^^ '"^'"^^ hia' k^es
a«fl the undisputed Zt '"*' *« ^« ^is wiS
'"^jter. of MiC^J ""Stress, as he was^ie

;«;ha8e godmother %jl^^*"«^"«-'- Irving.

motherandAhcp n«!r x,^^^^' and of ht

^ood, wherfGuv W*''^^«'neat Beech

continue to live^ '^'^'°«"'-« family wolld

in blessing upon fhio ^^^'"ed to look down

3^^ '^^^fe;:st\\^^an^^^^^^^^^^^^ Bell and

summer sun was ow ?n th * *'"'"" *he

and Hester's tea-taWe wt '^^'*«''° horizon
delicacy the place couily!?^^^ ^'^^ ever^
*er herself was fine ani ^'"'.^ ' ^^'^e Hes-
Jest black si]k, whS ^nnlt''' ^'' «««oud
Magdalen-8 arr val coujd r^'"^ less than
to «'ear on a week'day ^ ^'^""^ ''^duced he?

-i^i'g tUlor"il2i: «.PP-ance after

te*- remembered Mm ^."^'■^turn. Hes-

^-r«,l, d told tS'" t^ ^^^^'''"ed hfm

np "hsmher, billin' Lnri • ^?."°g ^olks was

dove., whereupon 'Gun;^'''' '^« *»rt?e

Highland Marv," wS K^''!^ ^ ^^istle

''S'sV"P' -^J^i^^e^^ '^^^^'

%-J-kftteVo?eT"^^^--' ^--tgo

fn;t*'^'''«dhekKth:M^^^^ --Wnot
and the next day toot i^^i'^''® *hat niaht
place of resort-4he l^r ^""^ ^'' favoul-^e
and seating her unon/h ""'^«'" the pine-!

^here some of th^ °^ ^P^" to the miW
in BelvidS-e and knf'lr^ ^^^o had 1 "ed
fPeak with her th,f ^ Magdalen came to

t-'^eestimatior^fttlTs'f'^^ *'^^™««'ve3 L

^^^^E^XRVlKG-s WARi,.

she held to
-— 'cpuirs wern t,«-^°, — "" him.

endure even to crom !.. .^«''"'''° «»«M not
seemed nec^MnTJ^' *'"l'Md. sSu °t
'"■•e her .e.urn f„ i' ''l" '>""'U do aibi

CHAPTER LV

^f her from ?oom ?o ToZ \ ^'"'''^^' ^raTk
at her commendations oT'f)."!?'°« P'^ased
had been displayed nf hi ^^ *««'« which
t!"-eand the cari w^eh ^5 « •> °^ ''"'•»^-
g'ven to everything '^ ^*^ evidently been
Jt Was Bell '' Pfo i

^i'^sr.re?,-?r*s,jfe

better than a c«nfn„n*,T"''' ^^'^h I liked
you, Magdalen, ivrseen'^'^r'-^^^- ^ te"
since you found that w"? anS /' "^ ^""^6
to-day, knowing Ivr„«V . ^ ^"» happier
than I've been b^efore nTea« »''' ''^ ^'''^^pt

He seemed disnosflrl < i "
native, and was S' .n' f^ ''^'"•^ communi-
'"estic troublesfJSfc ''^^ r/^k «^ ^^ dC

checked him and fh Magdalen quietlv
-other was jnterd?n;^trgo"'^^ ^^^ ^i'

en he tnU Je li^ "^' . ^rank said ; and

-"e;;'<,:s,t:^t.ff -;- /-rsr' ^

was a rumour that thi k^",^ ""^ • There

he aati *'."d"Ve''™Lr'';',^ "=»' '» hed, "
e«=«,e her „„t aeei "gyo^.'^'"" ' «» J">« mart

152

MILLBANK ; OR,

where Frank had told her his mother's money
was deposited, sho did not greatly sym
pathize with'^the artful, de->igning woman,
who almost gnashed her teeth when 8he,heard
of her loaa. She was all ready for removal
to " Rose Cotta«te," for which a friend was
negotiatinsf, and her trunks and boxes were
packed with every conceivable valuable
which could by any means be crowded into
them ; oil paintings, chromos, steel engrav-
ings, costly vases, exquisite shells, knives,
forks, spoons, china, cut glass, table linen,
bed linen, and even carpets formed a part of
hfr spoil, intended for that cottage, which
now was not within her reach. There was
still her oil stock left, and with that she
might manage to live respectably, she
thought, and resolving that no one should
exult over her disappointment from any
change they saw in her, she tried to appear
natural, and when an attempt was made at
sympathy, answered indifferently "that she
V, as sorry, of course, as she could have done
so much good with the money ; but the
Lord knew what was best, and she must
bear patiently what was sent upon her.
This was what she said to her clergyman,
who came to sympathize with her ; but
when he was gone, she looked the house
over again, to see if there was anything
more which she could take, and in case of
necessity turn into money. Some one in
Belvidere wrote to Roger that the house at
Millbank was being robbo.d, aud advised
strongly that means be taken to prevent
further depredations ; and a few days after
Mrs. Walter Scott was met in the hall by a
stern-looking man, who said he came, at
Mr. Irving's request, to take an inventory
of all the articles of furniture in the house,
and also to remain there and see that nothing
was harmed or removed.

He laid grea'j stress on the last word, and
the lady grew hot and red, and felt that she
was suspected and looked upon as a thief,
and relented it accordingly ; but after that
th«"-j was no more hiding of articles under
lock and key, for the stranger always c^eem-
ed to be present, and she knew that she was
watched ; and when he inquired for a small
and expensive oil painting which Roger had
bought in Rome, and an exquisite French
chromo, aiid certain pieces of silver and cut
glass which he had on his list as forming a
part of the household goods he was appoint-
ed to care for, she found them and gave
them, one by one, into his hands. And so
her stock of goods diminished and she hast-
ened to get away before everything was
taken from her ; and one morning in August
finally departed for a boarding-house in
New York, where she intended staying until
something better ofiF«red.

As soon as she was gone, a bevy of ser-
vants came out from Beechwood, and Roger
came from Schodick to superintend them,
and old Hestev came to oversee him, and
the renovating process went rapidly on,
while crowds of villagers flocked to the
house, curious to see the costly articles of
furniture which, during the last few years,
had been constantly arriving, and of which
the house was full to overflowing.

The mill was Roger's now, as well as the
site of the old shoeshop. He had bought
them both on the day of their sale, and the
operatives of the mill had hurrahed with
might and main for their new master, never
heeding the old one, who still remained in
town, and who, whatever he might have felt,
put a good face on the matter, and seemed
as glad and as interested as the foremast of
them. Only once did he manifest the slight-
est feeling, and that was when with Roger
he entered Bell's sleeping-room, where the
silken curtains were hanging and the many
expensive articles of the toilet w»re still
lying as Bell had left them. Then sitting
down by the window, he cried ; and, when
Roger looked at him questioningly, he told
of his little boy born in that room, and dead
before it was born.

" Bell was glad, he said — she does not like
children ; but I was so sorry, for if that boy
had lived I should have been a better man ;
but it died, and Bell has left me, and
mother's gone, and my money's gone, and
I am a used-up dog generally," he added
bitterly ; and then with a sudden dnshing
away of his tears he brightened into his for-
mer self, and said, laughingly, " But what's
the use of fretting ? I shall get along some
way. I always have, you know."

In his heart he knew Roger would not
let him suffer, and when Roger said as
much by way of comforting him, he took
it as a matter of course, and secretly hoped
" the governor would give him something
handsome, and let him keep a horse ! "

CHAPTER LVI.

THE BEIDAL.

Millbank was ready at last for its new
mistress. But few changes had been made,
and these in the library and the suite of
rooms set apart for the br.oe. Her tastes
were simpler than Bell's, and some of the
gorgeous trappings had been removed and
soberer ones put in their place. The house
at Schodick had been despoiled of a portion
cf its furniture, which now formed a part of
Millbank ; Jessie's picture and the candle-
box cradle were both brought back, and
Hester had the little quilt safe in her trunk,
and had bought a new gray satin dress for

t
S
X

tri

anc

sho

«av

faci

woi

brid

whe

was

strar

he re

hous(

and

bride.

ocean

he, h

daugh

Ways

can kn

the roj

fully :

Who, i

standin

with he

tion. 1

leading

-Alice an

iittle n,

"Uncle

Theyy

wood tha

the heart

lAura 8h<

for them

^hite R,

father's p

perhaps tl

men could

each other

but one, a

|ing dress i

herself to t

perfect pea,

her hand ac

made no d

hut when fc

she went up

^ hia arms

bosom, 8hoM

*na hands aj

l^tl^t^iltY/ tJ: If S at MiJIbank.
The Idea of gray Zii, I ?" .*''« bridal
Jtom Mrs. Penelope Sevmo*;?*"' t^ ««**«"
A^j'lbankto see X* ^™°"'' ^^o came to

Bhouid be forth 'irs'T.^*' - 5*

Sl'e had .tayed three S. / ■''*'• "'^ce

and fitted over honno - i '" •^PrmcHeld
tried to fix u"ii;Tin?o'^ "°**^"' ^"^^then
""ore modern^ But Altr'"'*'!^"« * 1^*''"
*nd TvouJd wear hi^oU. ^"^ incorricib e
«hoes tfed wTth I^ ht'stff *« ^""^ ^'i^^de
Wve h,n, up, and comfor?Id if '' ??^ «« «''^e
Jjct that he stayed mostivll'"-^^^ '^'^^ the

^OGER IRVING'S WARD.

would xK>-t7„7^;;rs i?b''^ "r -^"

at. by the "erandepfl" o' be.ng laughed
br^al party ffn^lfew Vo'rf'*^'^ ^^*''- th^

-he|M45^alet;:?rti^\ Beeehwood.
was his first vJBit \Z "^ ^o*" ^im. Jt
Jtrange thoughts c^owdS *"^ u^^^'"'' ^e'e
he rode up the mouS,"n^ P^ ^'« ">'°^ as
■ house which had ^een J "•i/f" ^P^a'-d the
and whither she once honL 'i' '^^ '""t^er,
bride, ^ow she wa8%3^*^^*« come as a
«««an bed, her shroud the^^^*' «^»^« the
be, her son, was Join™ / .*'?° ^''^ss, and
^aughter of' Arthu^r G^rev' ^^^ .^"^« the
ways of ProvidPMPo ^' Surely the

can know them v^J: sSd 'fT^^^^^^^h'
th« road brought the hn.', ^ ' * *•"■" '»
^"% into view wJ "^.^''^ grounds
^ho. in her e^'ninf *.^^'' ""'^^ ^lagdalen
?*?nding on the^^^^J' ^^ of whit!, wa'
with health and beau?v ' 5 ' ^"^« «^«wing
tion. VeryjovfuHysL*"l'"^!,\^^P««ta?

leading him into the houJ^^"'^'^ him, and

Alicoand her aunt an5 ♦S'^'^^t^^ bim to

Jttle nephew, whom 1. k" ""'^^ ^^r he?

" JJncle Roger!" " '^® brought to his

Ihey werea verv'™-.
wood that night, S not 7r?^ ** ^«««h-
the hearts ofVy one Tf^^'^T ''««ted on
faura should be ^ono i, 1 ^*^ better that
/«; them all; aUZ^XlVr ""''' ^^t'e'r
white Roger iturn^d at tu, ^^«\«aw how
father's pictu^ she felt ll\ ''^^* ^^ ber
perhaps that ho too dt J *^' '* ^a« well
men could not have wS ?^n^' ^^r the two
each other. The brida?wi'"/.''°««"'«^^o
h"tone, and Magda en ,r u *^t "^'^t day
bng dress was very be^° *;?, ^'* P^ain travel-
herself to the man who " f ' *' '^^ P^«^«ed
perfect peace and tharkfufn ' '""''\* ^°°k^of
her hand and knew it wl" S "' ''^^^asped
made no demnno* 1- ^ "'^ 'or ever w«

hut when ftTmomtrt?^'^''^ the' p;op^«
she went up for h^S ^^I^ ^^''e alone as
ed hia arm? to her and"^, *''*^^' he open
ho«om. showered his tl'-*'^^^ her to his
-^ hands and haiJ;^n'r:-a^^^^^^

n"t f^y^rl^^a^^^^^^^^^^ the

«Jegance of K^f cZ?T'"°°»*«»ttious
a sensation as Mrs W u** "^^'t^ as great

"howy gnests had done wh!' ?"*'"'» "'«'■«
^ho groom and Be?! Burf^K^'Ju «°" ^as
J^oger had given hi«^ ^""eigh the bride
o'-rfered a dfnre? ?o t^m * ^""^e^' »"d "ad
^'^unds, but he had not MT^*^«^'"hank
stration, or bonfire and I **** ** * ^^^on.
the New York trlfn"^*" surprised when
the meadow to see Vj""' ''""^d the bend in
people assem Wed b fore"" *]:«!, '"^ "«^ds if
the fence, some on the wo!! ^^P^*' ««'"« on
platform, and all glad a»S ^' ^ """''' *»" the

fame back to it lit?"?;?'' "I ^^w, when he
that both were hil bevl'l'^"^'"' *"^ f«lt
doubt. Old Hester r!!-^'^ possibility of
one but herselftir SZlf t*'^*"' *"^ -
t>ride s wrappincs or T ? ^'^ remove the
,^"?m. Hester ,S; in 1,^°?""* her to her
Walter «cott ne^er bore L"?/"*' ^^^ ^rs
Jy than did the old T^"^^^ """re proud-

were bidde;,T«LeW' *^ .^^'«h a few
wiiich all were ^elZt 'T^^'^n was held

^as a great crow JforrTo. *^^**^'^^• There
yo^Pg. plebeian and arlrlP'^'''-' ^^ and
iheir respects to the n«ij ""**'. '^ame to pay
"ot a rude thing wa?S'°*''"«d Pair ; Cut

spokenbyany onT r1' ^f a rough word
know them all. and MaS ^'""'^'^ ^^^ not
but her greeting was iuff '''^" ^5'^ a few;
as to another.^ Her \i ^',«'^'•dial to one "
been very plaf^, but thit'*'*" '"'^ '^'"^^^ had
radiant in whit; satin *LT"'"^ «he was
with the ?,ridal ven fl ^-^ ^^^ and pearls

head, and the oJa ge^^r aTh ^*^^ '''^"^ ^'^
shining hair • and thl ^"^^ath crowning her

?"ch diss and "tyi*e'b:?ore\' U^l^^^^"* ««««
m wonder, and for months .ff^** l^?}' ^^«ath
Pr'de of the night Then »n*?v.**^''«'^ ^^th
permitted to see anJi , *'[ the town wa»
«-eet lady of Milfbtk M^rs''^^' ^V*'^ '^
Koger had forbidden ',. i^"^^°«®'' ^'•^iofr
were lanterns hung In th« f '"' ^"* them
the grounds and f^ °® trees a 1 over

164

MILLBANK ; OR,

that the glare of lamps was no longer need-
ed to light up the festal scene. .„,^^ ^.^

Mrs. Franklin Irving had been invitedTto
be present, but she wisely declined, and
sent instead a most exquisite ring to Magda-
len, who let Frank put it upon her finger and
kiss her hand as he did so, a privilege he
claimed because the ring was said to be his
gift and Bell's. His wife had conceded so
much to him, though Frank had kno ura no-
thing of the ring until he saw it in its velvet
box on his wife's bureau. JUnlikeher, he had
no feelings of delicacy to prevent his being
present at Roger's bridal party. With no
business on his hands, and nothing to expect
from his wife beside his board, he was quite
as willing ^o staj' at Miiibank as in Boston,
and seemei: .0 take it for granted that he
was W' Icome there. And nobody c^red
much about his movements except Hester,
V7ho wondered " Why the lazy lout Oidn't
}.'> to work and earn his own vittJes, inuteai
r ] '.'ij^n' on to Roger. She vummed if bbe'''l
.:ttiJL ib much longer. She'd set him to work
if Roger didn't."

And so as time went on anr) Frank still
lingered about the place, Hester gradually
impressed him into her service, and made
uim do some of the things which Aleck once
had done and which he was unable to do
now. Sometimes he brought water for her,
sr split her kindlings, or went to the village
on an errand, and did it willingly, too,
though he alwp-^s wore h'T gloves, and gen-
erally carried nis cane and eye-glass, which
'7.st article he had of late adopted. It was
Magdalen who finall;^ iutorfered and stood
between Hester and Frank, and said he was
welcome to remain at Miiibank as long ashe
chose, and that if Hester had not servants
enough another should be procured at once.
This was the first and only tima that
Magdalen asserted her right as mistress in
opposition to old Hester, who submitted
without a word and ever after left Frank in
peace.

September passed quiokly, and in
the late October days, when the New
England woods weie gorgeous with crimson
and gold, and Miiibank was still beautiful
with its autumn flowers, Mrs. Franklin Ir-
ving came up to visit Mr. and Mrs. Roger,
and was received by her with all the cor-
diality due so near a relative. Not by a word
or look did she betray the slightest regret for
the past, when she had been mistre,?s where
she was now only a guest. Millbauk was to
her as any stranger's house, and she boro
herself naturally and pleasantly, and made
herself very agreeable to Roger, and devoted
herself to Matjdalen, whom she lil'e-'^ so mucju,
and was civil eud almost kind to her hus-

band, who was still there, and, as Hester
said, " just as shiftless as ever."

Bell saw the state of affairs, and while she
despised her husband more than ever for his
indolence and lack of sensibility, she resolv-
ed to give Magdalen a rest, and leave her
alone with Roger for a time ; so when in
N ovember she returned to Boston, she invit-
ed Frank to go with her, and secured him
a place as book-keeper in a mer-
chant's counting-house, and stimulated
perhaps by the perfect happiness and confi-
dence she had seen existing between Roger
and Magdalen, tried, by being kind and even
deferential to him, to mould him into some-
thing of which she would not be so terribly
ashamed as she was now of the careless,
shambling, listless, lazy man, whom every-
body knew as Mi 1. Franklin Irvmg's hus-
band.

CHAPTER LVII.

CHRISTMAS-TIDE.

It WHS the second (Jhristmas after Magda*
len's bridal, and tires were kindled in all the
rooms at MillUpnk, and x aotries and closets
groaned with their loads and loads of eat-
ables ; and Hester Floyd bustled about, im-
portar*'. at> ever, ordering everybody except
the nurse who had come with Mrs. Guy Sey-
mour and her baby, the little four-montns
old girl, whose name was Laura Magdalen,
and who, with her warm milk and cold milk,
and numerous paraphernalia of babyhood,
kept the kitchen a good deal stirred up, and
made Hester chafe a little inwardly. But
then, she said" she 'sposed she must get used
to these things," and her face cleared up, and
her manner was very soft and gentle every
time she thought of the crib in Magdalen s
room, where, under the identical quilk the
poor heathen would never receive, slumbered
ano;her baby girl. Magdalen's and Roger's,
which had come to 2'Ti Ubank f^bout six weeks
before, and over whose birth great rejoicings
were made. Jessie Morton was its name,
and Guy ard Alice nad stood for it the Suo.
day before, and with Aunt Pen were to re-
main at M: Ubank through the holidays, and
halp Magd&len to entertain the few friends
invited to pass the week under Roger's hos-
pitable roof.

The world bad gone well w'th Roger since
hb came back to Miiibank. E'^erything had
prosptr.ed with which he had scything '.o do.
The ?hoe shop had been rebuilt, and the
mill was never more pro&perous, and Roger
bade fail 'soon to be as rich a man as he had
supposed himself to be before the will was
found. On his domestic horizon ikO cloud,
however small, had ever rested. Magdalen

won't
Walte
She hi
be a
true
rem em
Roge
but ref
from a
and so 1
the holi
the boai
Walter
nieans
weii 18
** There
time, pel
Was the 1
investiga
to realize
Pfank CO
too prou(.
did what 1
do — opene
city wher
any of her
<^JDgy roor
turo nnd f
of former

ROGER IRVING'S WARD.

|er eince
|nc had
Co do,
End the
^ Roger
[he had
lill was
( cloud,
gigdalen

was his all in-all, hia choicest treasure, for
which he daily thanked Heaven more ferv-
ently than for all his other blessings combin-
ed. And, I amid his prosperity, Roger did
not forget to render back to Heaven a gene-
rous portion of his git't8,and many ar*? many
a sad heart was made glad, and man 7 a poor
church and clergyman were helped, quietly,
unostentatiously, and often times so secret-
ly that they knew not whence came the aid,
but for which they ^ might have given up in
utter despair and hopelessness.

Magdalen approved and assisted in all her
husband's chanties, and her heart went out
after the sad, sorrowful ones, with a yearn-
ing desire to make them a^; happy
as herself. Especially was this the case
that Christmas time, when to all her other
blessings a baby had been added, and bhe
made it a season for extra gifts to the poor
and needy, who, through all the long winter,
would be more comfortable because of her
generous remembrance.

When the list of guests to be invited for
the holidays was being made out, she sat for
a moment by Roger's side, with her eyes
fixed musingly on the bright fire in the
grate. Mr. and Mrs. Franklin Irving's
names were on the list, with that of Grace
and the young clergymHii to whom she was
engaged, and Roger waited for Magdalen to
say if there was any one else whom she would
have.

"Yes, Roger, there is. Perhaps you
won't approve, but I should like to ask Mrs.
Walter Scott, if you don't object too much.
She has a dreary lime at best, and this will
be a change. She may not come, it's
true ; but she will be plea£ed to know we
remember her. "

Roger had entertained the same thought,
but refrained from giving expression to it
from a fear lest Magdalen would not like it,
and so that day a cordial invitation to pass
the holidays at Millbank was forwarded to
the boardinp-house in New York which Mrs.
Walter Scott was actually keeping as a
means of support. Her oil had failed, as
wei.- \a the bank which held her money.
*' There might be something for her some
time, perhaps, but there was nothing now,"
was the report of the lawyer employed to
investigate the matter, and then she began
to realizp how utterly destitute she was.
Frank could rot help her, and as she was
too proud to ask help of Roger, she finally
did what po many poor, disc enraged women
do — opened a boarding-house in a part of the
city where she would not be likely to meet
any of her former friends, and there in dull,
dingy rooms, with forlorn, half- worn furni-
ture and faded drapery, all relics like herself
of former splendors, she tried to earn her

living. The goods which she managed to
smuggle away from Millbank served her a
good turn now, and pawnbrokers and buyers
of old silver and pictures soon made the ac-
quaintance of the tall lady with light hair
and traces of great beauty, *,who came so of-
ten to their shops, and seemed so ead and
desolate. Roger and Magdalen had been to
see her once, and Frank had been many
times ; but Bell never deigned to notice her,
though she wa» frequently in New York, and
once drove past the boarding-houae in a
stylish carriage tvith her velvets and ermine
around her. Mrs. Walter Scott did not see
her, so that pang was spared her. She had
finished her hook, but the publishers one and
all showed a strange obtuseneas with regard
to its worth, and it was put away in her
trunk, where other things pertaining to the
past were buried.

The invitation from Millbank took her by
surprise and made her cry a little, but she
hastened to accept it, and was there before
her daughter-in-law, and an occupant of her
former room. She was old and broken, and
faded and poor, and seemed very quiet, and
very fond of Magdalen's baby, which she
kept a great deal in her room, calling herself
its grandma, and thinking, perhaps, of an-
other little one whose loss no one had regret-
ted save Frank, the father. He came at last
with Bell, who was very polite and gracious
to her mother-in-law, whom she had not
expected to meet.

" Of course I am sorry for her," she said
to Magdalen, who was one day talking of
her, and wishing something might be d^'ie
to better her condition. "But what I

do? She refuses to receive 7?»one,v f. ;'t,

and as for having her in my house, no power
on earth could induce me to do that."

Alas 1 for Bell, Man proposes, but God
disposes, and the thing which no power on
earth could induce her to do was to be forcea
upon her whether she would have it or not.

The Christmas dinner was a sumptuous
one, and after it was over the guests repair-
ed t© the parlours, where muaic and a little
dance formed a part of the evening's enter-
tainment. Mrs. Walter Scott was playing
for the dance. Her fingers had not yet for-
gotten their skill, and she had good-natured-
ly offered to take the pKce of Grace Bur-
leigh, who gave up the more willin>.ly be-
cause of the young clergyman look-
ing over a book of engraving, and casting
wistful glances towards her. Whether it
was the dinner, or the excitement, or a com-
bination of both, a'^ne could tell, but there
was suddenly a ces!>ation of the music, a
crash among the keys, and Mrs. Walter
Scott turned toward the astonished dancers
a face which frightened them, it was so

A ■

106

MILLBANK; OR,

white, so Btranse, bo distortftd. Paralysis
of one entire Biue was the verdict of the
physiuian, who was summoned immediately
and did all he could for the stricken woman,
from one-half ok whose body the sense of
feeling;; was gone, and who lay in her room
aB helpless as a child. Gradually her face
began to look more natural, her speech came
back again, thick and stammering, but toler-
ably intelligible, and her limp right hand
moved feebly, showing that she was in part
recovering. For three weeks they nursed
her with the utmost care, and Bell stayed
by and shrank from the future which she
saw before her, and from which she wished
90 much to escape. In her womanly pity
and sympathy Magdalen would have kept
the paralytic woman at Millbank, but Roger
was not willing that her young life should
be burdened in this way, and he said to
Frank and Bell :

"Your mother's place is with her children.
If you are not able to take care of her, I am
willing to help ; but I cannot suffer Magda-
len to taice that load of care."

So it was settled, and Bell went home to
Boston and prepared an upper room, which
overlooked the Common, and then came
back to Millbank, where they made the in-
valid ready for the journey. Her face was
very white and there was a look of dreary
despair and dread in her eyes, but she
uttered no word of protest against the plan,
and thanked Roger for his kindness, and
kissed the little Jessie and cried softly over
her, and whispered to Magdalen : " Come
and see me often. It is the only pleasant
thing I can look forward to."

And then Frank and Roger carried her
out to the carriage which took her to the
cars, and that night she heard the winter
wind howl around the windows of the room
to which she felt that she was doomed for
life, and whioh, taking that view of it, seemed
to her like a prison.

" The Lord is sure to remember tirst or
last, " old Hester said, as she watched the
carriage moving slowly down the avenue
" and though I can't say I would have given
her the shaking palsy if I'd ev beeu the
Lord, I kno-.v it's right and just, and a
warnin' to all liarb and -deceitful, snoopin'
critters. "

Still Hester was sorry for the woman,
and went to see her almost as often as Mag-
dalen herself, and once stayed turee whole
weeks, and took care of her when Mrs.
Franklin was away. Bell did not trouble
herself very much about her mother-in-law,
or spend much time with her. She gave
orders that she should be well cared for and
have everything she wished for, and she saw
that her orders were obeyed. She also went

once a day to see her and ask if she was
comfortable ; but after that Bhe felt that
nothing further was incumbent upon her.
And so for all MrB. Walter Scott know of the
outer world and the life she had once enjoy-
ed BO much, she was indebted to Grace, who
before her marriage passed many hours with
the invalid, telling her of things which ahe
thought would interest her, and sometimea
rearling to her until she fell asleep. But
after Grace was gone Mrs. Walter Soo'°t'B
days passed in dreary loneliness and wretci.
ed discontent. She had no pleasure in
recalling the past, and nothing to look for-
ward to in the future. The remainder of her
wretched life she knew must be passed where
she was not wanted, and where her son came
but once a day to see her, and that in the
evening just after dinner, when he usually
fell asleep while she was trying to talk to
him.

Bell would not suffer Frank to go into the
city evenings unless she accompanied him,
for she had no fancy for having him brought
to her in a state of intoxication, as was once
the case. And Frank, who was a good deal
afraid of her, remained obediently at home,
and, preferring his mother's society to that
of his wife, stayed in the sick room a portion
of every evening ; then, when wholly wearied
there, went to his own apartment and
smoked in dreary solitude until midnight.

Such was Frank's life and such the life of
his mother, until there came to her a
change in the form of a second shock,
which rendered one foot and hand entirely
helpless, and distorted her features so badly
that she insisted the blinds should be kept
closed and the curtains down, so that those
who came into her room could not see how
distigured she was. And so in darkness
and solitude her days pass drearily,
with impatient longings for the night,
and when the night comes she
moans and weeps, and wishes it was
morning. Poor woman ! She is a burden to
herself and a terrible skeleton to her fash-
ionable daughter- in law, who in the gayest
sceiies in which she mingles never long for-
gets the paralytic at home, sinking so fast
into utter imbecility, and as she becomes
more and more childish, requiring more and
more care and attention.

The curse of wrong-doing is resting on
Bell as well as on her husband and his
mother, and though she is proud and haugh-
ty and reserved as ever, she is far from
being happy, and her friends say to each
other that she is growing old and losing her
brilliant beauty. Frank often tells her of it
when he has been drinking wine. He is not
afraid of her then, and after he found that
it annoyed her he delighted to tease ^°,t

1
e

ft
ei
*)\

ROGER IRVINGS WARD.

HTM

hat
her.

the
joy
who
with

she
imes

But
o'-t'ii

jtc'u

re ia

I for-

)f her J

vhere

came

in the

lually

Ik to

to the
I him,
rought
\s once
>({ deal
home,
o that
portion
vearied
at and
ig^it.
5 life of
her a
shock,
mtirely
o badly
e kept
It those
lee how
arknesB
rearily,
night,
she
it was
irden to
[er fwh-
gayest
mg for-
so fast
jecomes
ore and

jting on
land his
1 haugh-
ir from
bo each
ling her
ier of it
|e is not
Ind that

tkhoxxt her fading beauty, and to aak why she
could not keep as young and fresh and hand-
some as Magdalen. There was not a wrinkle
in her face, he said, and she looked
younger and handsomer than when he Krst
came home from Europe and saw her at the
Exhibition.

And well might Magdalen retain her girl-
ish beauty, for if ever the fountain of youth
existed anywhere it was in her home at
Millbank. Exceedingly popular with the
villagers, idolized by her husband, per-
fectly happy in her baby, surrounded by
every luxury which wealth can furnish and
every care lifted from her by old Hester's

thoughtfulness, there has as yet been no sh»«
dow, however small, upon her married life,
and her face is as fair and beaut'ful, and her
voice as full of glee, as when she sat with
Roger by the river side and felt tlie Hrst
awakenings of the love which has since
grown to be her life.

And now we say farewell to Millbank,
knowing that when sorrow comes to its in*
mates, as it must some day come, it will
not be such a sorrow as enshrouds that

f;loomy house in Boston, for there is perfect
ove and fuith between the husband and the
wife, with no sad, dreary retrospects of wrong
to make the present unendurable.

THE END.