B'eirtrand Smith Apres <>f Books e Av. - . V- 1 " * ut the spirit was willing, though the flesh was weak, and Lizzy Roberts was as assiduous, if not as successful, as before. Two years had elapsed since her father's death, and during that time the most she had earned was three dollars a week, and that only when the work was good. She struggled long to keep up a decent appearance, but Poverty is an experienced wrestler, and what could two friendless women do but succumb. At the time our story commences, two years after the father's death, the mother and daughter were located in the back attic-room of the rear house we have described in the preceding chapter. " Well, Lizzy, how is your mother this morning ?" said Mrs. Grey. " No better. She got no rest last night, the cold was so gi'eat." " Nor you either, my poor girl, I'm afraid," said her compassionate listener. "Oh, that's nothing; I had got to stay up to finish some shirt collars, and could not have gone to sleep if I had wished it ever so, for Mr. Sharpe wants them this morning, early. I must be down before eight o'clock." " Before eight ! Why, Ellen Williams don't go so early. I went to Mrs. Short's yesterday after my Steve, 20 THE SHIRT SEWEE. and she was going home with work then, and that was about twelve." " Yes, I know," said Lizzy, quietly ; " but Ellen is dif- ferent from me. The shop girls have a kind of a liking for her, she's so smart and lively, and dresses so nice. But Mr. Sharpe, himself, told me that it didn't look respectable to see me coming in when the shop was crowded with cus- tomers, and that he couldn't give me work if I didn't turn it hi early in the morning." " Well !" said Mrs. Grey, indignantly. " Well, what could I do ?" and Lizzy smiled sadly ; " of course I did as I was bid ; and I told mother that I'd go in the morning always in future that it was better, as I wouldn't be meeting so many. Now it's time to start." "It's an unfeeling thing to ask you to go so early in the morning, it's always colder then." "Well, but I like it better. I want to be there and home again before the other giris give in their work. They don't like to come out of the store with me no wonder, I'm so shabby." " Pshaw ! Lizzy. Why do you say no wonder ?" " Because, it is no wonder, dear Mrs. Grey ; I'm so different, you know." " So you are that's a fact," said Mrs. Grey, decidedly, " and you don't mind them, Lizzy eh ? not much." " I feel bad this morning about going, because the young ERNEST OREY. 21 girls iii the store were so but I can't afford to take offence, and I pretended not to hear them." "What did they say to you ?" " Oh, they didn't say anything to me, but they spoke loud enough for me to hear them. Just as I was passing out, they began to giggle and whisper. ' What a figure for Broadway,' says one. ' Quite a credit to the store,' says another ; and they laughed aloud. Then they got too angry to laugh, and said it was a shame. They looked so young and so pretty, that I felt quite sorry to hear them talk so. But now that I've told you, I don't feel so bad." Steve had listened intently to the whole conversation, evidently trying his best to comprehend it, and now broke in, his childish face red and angry. " I'd lick them for laughing. I'd lick anybody 'that'd laugh at Lizzy." " Oh, Steve !" said Lizzy, reproachfully. " Steve's a bold boy," said his mother, in a tone that re-assured the child at once, and he muttered doggedly. " I would yes, I would so," and turned his back upon his protege. " Steve wont speak to you any more, Liz," said the mother. Steve didn't seem to relish this observation, but he was too sulky to contradict it. 22 THE SHIRT SEWER. "Wont you give me a kiss before I go, Steve?" said Lizzy, coaxingly ; " coine, that's a good boy make up and be friends." Steve still silent and sulky. " Never mind, Liz do you go, and you needn't call here any more, for Steve don't like you," said his mother. " Yes I do ;" he exclaimed, fairly conquered, and blub- bering outright ; " and I'll kiss her too." And Steve was as good as his word, evidently thinking that he had estab- lished an everlasting claim on her gratitude. " Now wont you come back ? Whisper, Liz !" She stooped, and putting his mouth to her ear, he said in a tone of determined willfulness " I would lick 'em." Lizzy hurried off, trying to hide a smile ; and Mrs. Grey began to busy herself about the room. It did not tsfke much time to arrange ; and then the little dress was cut out and basted, and tried on, the poor mother happy in the thought that her boy would be warm and comfortable, and Steve exulting in his own little heart that he could now take down Willy Short. AN ADVENTURE IN BROADWAY KICHARD KANE, THE MB- CHANIC THE SHIRT STORE. IT was half-past seven when Lizzy Roberts turned into Broadway, and fearful of being late, she pressed forward rapidly. The shops were not all open, and the street had a deserted look, for it was that kind of a morning when few walk from choice. The stages were crowded, drivers were encased in water-proof somethings only the initiated can tell what. The red-tipped segars looked less disagree- able than usual, awnings were in demand, and umbrellas at a premium. The drizzling mist of the early morning changed to heavy rain, and Lizzy's apology for an umbrella and a poor apology it certainly was didn't prevent her from being thoroughly drenched. Enough rain had fallen to make the superabundant dust on the crossings glutinous as bird-lime, and as Lizzy, her timid prudence giving way before her anxiety to be in time, ventured to cross in the face of an up-coming stage, she wns caught as in a trap, 24 ADVENTURE IN BROADWAY. and but for a hearty backward pull, must have been run over. " More frightened than hurt, I guess." The voice was pleasant to hear, and the smiling, intelligent face pleasant to look upon. Lizzy murmured some unintelligible words of thanks, and hurried on, her dread of being late again in the ascendant. " You are walking too quick," said tne young man, who had followed and kept pace with her. " You are not all right yet." " Oh, yes, indeed." " You shake as if you had the ague. Take my umbrella and walk slower." " I can't," said Lizzy, anxiously ; " I'll be late I ought to be there now." Her companion was desirous of knowing where "there" meant, but his natural courtesy would not allow him to ask. " Well," said he, after a short silence, " at all events you must take my umbrella, for your's is scarcely " he paused for fear of giving pain "large enough to shelter you." " Oh, yes," she replied, "it is quite large enough, but it's old and worn it lets in the wet." " Exactly so that's what I mean. Well, you take my umbrella, and give me yours. That's it." v\ - ERNEST GREY. 25 And before Lizzy had time to refuse, the umbrellas were exchanged. " Don't be frightened it's all right," was his only reply to her remonstrances. " Good morning keep a sharp look out for the crossings." And in a twinkling he was down a side street, chuckling at his own success. " Capitally managed. Poor thing such a morning, too, and such an umbrella" glancing at the broken ribs and torn cover " I'm right glad she's got a good one. Here goes," and the worn-out parapluie was tossed into the middle of the street. In the meantime, Lizzy arrived at the store, and handed her work to the young lady in attendance. " What's the reason it aint clean ?" was her first obser- vation. " And this stitching do you call it neat ? My ! how uneven it is." " I could'nt draw a thread," said Lizzy. " How smart we are," said the young lady aside to ono of her companions, in a contemptuous tone. " Who ever heard of drawing threads in a bias ? But I suppose you could keep it even If you tried. I declare, if the threads ain't split ! Well !" This crowning piece of depravity was too much, and in silence she handed the collars round to be examined. "Xothing could be neater, Leonore," said a fair- haired young girl who was arranging goods at the 26 THE SHIRT STORE. other counter. " If I could stitch as neatly I would be contented." " Look at the split threads and the button holes." " Pshaw 1" was the only reply vouchsafed. " I don't think there's any work cut out," said Leonorc, talking rather to herself than to Lizzy, " and I haven't got time to cut any now. The store must be tidied up first of all. Couldn't you come back again in the afternoon ?" The thought of her mother being so long alone, and the fatiguing walk, roused Lizzy, and she answered in a tone unusual to her " No, indeed, I cannot ; for I live too far away." " It rains, Leonore," said the young girl who had already praised the stitching. " Well can't she take the stage ?" was the careless reply. Lizzy's pale cheek flushed, but she was silent. " Or if you can't return, I suppose you must play lady to-day, and come back in the morning." Poor Lizzy ! This was worse than all ; and with diffi- culty she repressed her tears. A whole day lost ! How many nights would it take to make up for that ? Xo work for a whole day ! What a world of meaning was in that one sentence. " I can cut out the work myself," she ventured to sug- gest ; " or I can wait till it's cut out for me." ERNEST GREY. 27 " I'm sure a day can't make much difference." Leonore spoke as if the patience of an angel couldn't be proof against the annoyances to which she was subject. " It makes a great difference to me," was the touching rejoinder. " Leonore," said the young girl at the opposite counter, " if you haven't time, I have got everything in order here shall I ?" " If you have a mind to," said Leonore, with a toss of her head. " Oh tell us all about the ball last night," exclaimed three or four of the shop girls in chorus, gathering round Leonore with eager interest. "What did you wear? Who was there ? Did you waltz ? Did you have supper ?" The noisy gaiety ill-accorded with Lizzy's state of mind, and she turned to the other counter to ask about the breadth of the stitching, the size of the button holes, and other important items ; but ever and anon a sentence in a louder key reached her, and what an odd jumble it was " White tarletane ? no indeed yes, I saw him so pretty pale blue silk, looped up with roses what a fright that woman is paid every attention to me. flatters so crum- pled white muslin, nothing else her homely beau pretty ! not she, indeed pearls in my hair," &c. &c. " I want to give you work enough to last for two days, for I think it will storm to-morrow." 28 THE SHIRT STORE. " If I have it finished before that ?" said Lizzy, inquir- ingly. " No matter there's no hurry ; but if you think you could do more, I'll get it ready. There, I think that'll be enough." " I think so, but Mrs. Grey sews very neatly," she said, hesitatingly. "Who is Mrs. Grey?" " She lives in the same house with me, and I know she will be glad to get some work her husband has been ill quite a long time. If I could get it for her, and spare her the walk." " But Mr. Sharpe, I think, wouldn't like to give work to a stranger without a deposit." Lizzy knew well that Mrs. Grey couldn't give a deposit if all the work in New York depended upon it, and she hesitated to reply. " Couldn't you take out a double quantity in your own name," said the young girl, lowering her voice "and give it to your friend ? Many of the girls have friends to help them, and if Mr. Sharpe noticed you turning in more work than usual, he'll conclude that you've got some rela- tion at home. If it's well done, and ready when he wants it, he don't care much about anything else." And doubling the linen, she re-commenced cutting vigo- rously. ERNEST GREY. 29 "There I've given you two dozen collars for Mrs. Grey. Your own is in this parcel. You are sure she will do them good." " Yes," Lizzy was very sure. " I'm sorry I've had to detain you so long sitting in your wet clothes." " "Walking will soon warm me " she replied cheerfully, though her teeth chattered with the cold ; and thanking her new friend with an eloquent look, for her tongue did no justice to her feelings, Lizzy turned homewards con- gratulating herself on having received kindness from two strangers in the course of one morning. " Dear Liz ! it was so kind of you," said Mrs. Grey, when Lizzy explained to her about the collars " I've often tried to get work, but couldn't." " I thought of it before, but was only waiting for a chance, for if Mr. Sharpe was in a bad temper he'd re- fuse without knowing what you asked. But look at this ! " she added holding up the umbrella. " Oh, ain't it nice ! " exclaimed Steve in an ecstacy of admiration, pulling with a will at the brass tipped point to subject it to a nearer inspection. " You couldn't guess how I got it 1 " " You didn't buy it did you ? " " Guess again" said Lizzy, laughing. " Oh of course you got it from that young girl in the 30 THE UMBRELLA. store," and Mrs. Grey's tone said as plain as tone could say, " How stupid not to think of that before." " No, indeed ! Steve give it to your mother." Steve had succeeded in bringing the handle which was a special object of interest to him, en a level with his eyes, and after delighting his sense of touch by its smoothness was wholly absorbed in examining a small oval brass plate set in the side. With great reluctance he gave it up in obedience to a more peremptory demand. "It's a real good one" said Mrs. Grey; "the ribs are whalebone. Let me see ! Why, who is Richard Kane?" " Richard Kane ! " repeated Lizzy ; " why, is there a name on it ? " " Yes ; there it is, and I think I heard Ernest mention that name more than once. Richard Kane ! I'm sure I did. But, say -I don't understand, Liz how did you come by it ? " Lizzy told her all the details, and Mrs. Grey was de- lighted with Kane's promptitude and subsequent brusque kindness. Both agreed that it would be better not to tell Mrs. Robert's anything about the matter, lest any future unavoidable delay might alarm her. CHAPTER IV. THE MERCHANT'S FAMILY FATHER AND SON. A SHORT time after the events related in our last chapter, Mr. and Mrs. Clements and their daughter Agatha, were seated round the breakfast table in their luxurious parlor. Mr. Clements whose name has been already mentioned was engaged in an extensive mercantile business. He was a man universally respected for many sterling qualities, but, from a certain sternness of manner, rather unpopular among his employees and acquaintances. He was a good man some even said he was a kind one, but he was never known to pardon, or pass over the slightest deviation from the strict line of duty let the cause be what it might. In fact he was a harsh, just man, who resolutely repelled every suggestion alike of feeling or of pity who measured every man by his own standard of right or wrong and judged him accordingly. Principle was his idol feel- ing with him was synonymous with weakness " Those who sin should suffer " was his creed ; and he was a bigot to it. 32 THE MERCHANT'S FAMILY. His life had been uniformly happy and prosperous ; his wealth increased slowly and steadily ; but the influ- ences that soften one man's heart petrify another's, as the same sun that melts an icicle hardens the plastic clay. Mrs. Clements character may be summed up in one sentence she was a hypochondriac "a steady, sturdy, staunch believer " in the healing virtues of all quack nos- trums ; those she had not tried she felt convinced would cure her, and those she had tried she felt equally convinced would cure any one but her. One son, a wild, thoughtless, good-hearted youth of seventeen, and one daughter, a few years older, constituted Mr. Clements family. He was tenderly attached to both, but his affection for Robert was kept alive by a constant fear that somehow or other he would get into difficulties if not well watched. To this task Mr. Clements dedicated himself so zealously that his object soon became apparent, and Robert having no appre- ciation or relish for affection so displayed, withdrew him- self more and more from his father. This increased Mr. Clements watchfulness and it in turn increased Robert's wilfulness. This alienation did not escape his daughter Agatha to her it was a cause of unaffected sorrow. To Mrs. Clements it seemed all very natural that Robert, released from the counting-house, should seek relaxation among companions of his own age. " Robert," she would say, " is becoming a ERNEST GREY. 33 young man, and young men will be young men," was her invariable reply to Mr. Clements remarks on his frequent absence from home. "Father more tea?" said Agatha, interrogatively, holding the tea-pot inclined over his cup, while waiting for an answer. Mr. Clements did not hear the question he was, or seemed to be, deep in a newspaper. " Father !" she repeated in a louder voice. Mr. Clements looked up Agatha went through the pantomime of pouring out tea. An impatient " No " was his answer. Then turning to Mrs. Clements, who was reclining in an easy chair, gazing vacantly at the fire, he said abruptly " Where's Robert ? Maria." " I'm sure I do not know," said Mrs. Clements languidly, "perhaps in his own room, or somewhere he must be somewhere." " Did you see him yesterday ?" " Did I, Agatha ?" " Yes, mother, certainly ; don't you recollect he read some ludicrous poetry to you ?" " Don't mention it," said Mrs. Clements, imploringly ; " my head aches yet when I think of it. It was so incon- siderate I had almost said, cruel of Robert, to make me laugh. His constitution mav defv such convulsive efforts ; 34 THE MERCHANT'S FAMILY. but mine" a pause of most significant meaning followed this reference to herself. " A medical author says," suggested Mr. Clements, " that ' a laugh is the best medicine.' " " Pshaw 1 Mr. Clements medical authority, indeed ! What do I care for medical authority." "Well, mother, a poetical one says 'so much laughter, so much life enjoyed.' " " I'm glad to hear," said Mr. Clements, " that Robert, by any means, direct or indirect, contributes to the enjoy- ment of one parent. I did not give him credit for so much." " But it is very good policy, dear father, to give people credit for goodness. Men and women are frequently good or bad, as we give them credit for being so." " Ha !" said Mr. Clements, relapsing into silence, and diving once more into the newspaper. Mrs. Clements sat like one who had no interest in the conversation ; the fingers of one hand rested on the wrist of the other, and she was endeavoring to count its pulsa- tions. That she succeeded to her own satisfaction in find- ing it quicker or slower than it ought to have been, was evident from the strangled sigh that followed. *t " A medical authority !" she said, bitterly ; " I would like to see the medical man that could understand my disease." ERNEST GREY. 35 " So would I," said Mr. Clements ; " for it would be harder to come at than the northwest passage." " Dr. Xcverdy said my lungs were affected," soliloquized Mrs. Clements, " and Dr. Kantphale said my heart ; but I know very well that both are astray. Neither heart nor lungs are affected of that Em perfectly satisfied." " So am I the worst material wont wear out without use," Mr. Clements thought, but did not say. "Talk to me of heart !" she continued, "the man must have been an idiot." "I'm glad to hear from yourself that your heart's all right, Maria," said Mr. Clements, rising and putting on his over-coat and gloves. " Tell Robert that I expect to see him in the office to-day." And without waiting for an answer, Mr. Clements hastened to his place of business. About half an hour afterwards Robert lounged in, look- ing as blaze as he could after a night's dissipation. He merely trifled with his breakfast sipped his coffee cut his bread in pieces of an inch square balanced his spoon on the edge of his cup, and committed other follies -which a man seriously determined to breakfast never does. In short, he neither ate with the grave deliberation of a person who looks upon eating as an important business, nor yet with the haste of one who regards it as a necessary preli- minary to business. "What's the matter, Robert? what arc you thinking 36 THE MERCHANT'S FAMILY. of?" said Agatha. "Here have I been for the last five minutes trying to get an answer to a very simple question." " What question ?" asked Robert, abstractedly " Well, not a matter of life and death so you need not exhibit such absorbing interest. Will you have another cup of coffee ?" "I don't know," was the answer ; "I believe not. Let me see," " I'm very glad to sec Robert so serious upon that sub- ject," remarked Mrs. Clements. " It's a subject that never received due attention from him though I've often said that in a faulty system of dietetics was to be found the source of every malady." And Mrs. Clements once mounted upon her hobby, shook off her languor, and talked with a vigor and velocity that would have done credit to an ordi- nary pair of lungs. " Do you really think so, mother ?" " I do, Robert." " It's a serious charge," said her son, gravely. " We will be .safe in assuming that one half of the human race suffers from impaired and ruined health ; and if so, what follows that half the human race are suffering because they know not what to cat, when to eat, and how to eat. Such an idea is enough to make one pause." " What of the thousands who arc relieved from all these embarrassments," observed Agatha ; " whose annoyances ERNEST GREY. 37 arc all summed tip in the simple question Can we get any- thing to eat ?" " Well, sister mine, that's a question that demands only an 'aye' or a 'no.' !N"o harassing details enter into the consideration of it. If people possess a know- ledge of their own resources, it can be easily and cor- rectly answered. But with mother the mere fact of eating is nothing." " Most true, Robert. Two feelings alternately influence NIC the dread of taking anything injurious, or omitting to take anything that would be beneficial. Anything else is beneath the consideration of a rational creature. For my part, I wish eating could be dispensed with altogether it is so tiresome." " ' Oh cruel fate, Thnt Rosalinda can't by proxy eat,' Eh, mother ?" said Robert. " I have often told you, Robert," petulantly exclaimed the mother, " that the wretched, trifling kind of talk in which you arc so prone to indulge, is disagreeable to me. You don't seem to realize neither you nor your father and indeed I may say, neither does Agatha- how very delicate I am, and how much I suffer. Yet you don't appear obtuse on other points. No, no, Robert ; don't talk to me I'm not able for it. Talk to Agatha." 38 BROTHER AND SISTER. " v ery well. Agatha, come here," and he drew her to the window " what was father saying this morning ?" " About you ?" " Yes, about me," said Robert, bitterly ; " am I not up for discussion at every meal." " He wishes you to attend to business regularly to be seen at home sometimes, and to go down to the office to-day. That's not too much ?" " Xo that's not too much ; but how was it said, that's the thing. I don't believe father was ever young. Here am I past seventeen time for a man to be independent ; and I haven't got a sixpence that I can call my own. Sixpence ! I haven't got a cent ; but as he doles it out to me ; and you know how that's done either in churlish silence, or accompanied with bitter reflections on my past extravagance. I wonder did his father ever treat him so. I'm not so extravagant as any one of my acquaintances no, not by a long shot. There's "Will Somers he receives three or four times the amount I do ; and yet he always wants money. He wants it now he wants fifty dollars from me, and I promised to have it for him this evening. " Oh, Robert ! how could you be so foolish ?" "What could I do, Agatha? You don't understand these things. That sneering fellow, Dick Morton, was present, and he said ' Don't ask Robert he lend money 1 he's too much afraid of the Governor.' I must have it ERNEST GREY. 39 tonight I'll go right down to the office and sound father. If he behaves generously with me now, I'll be as regular as clockwork in futur.\ If he don't ho ! for California." And with this threat on his tongue, Robert proceeded to the office. CHAPTER V. ROBERT CLEMENTS' FINANCIAL SCHEME THE FIFTY DOLLAR BILL. MR. CLEMENTS was surprised and pleased to see Robert in the office about an hour after he had himself got there ; but in accordance with what he considered a judicious plan, he took no notice of him, for Mr. Clements was one of those persons and their name is legion who censure promptly, but praise reluctantly. Robert set to work with a will, for he was anxious to propitiate his father, and to silence the importunate monitor within. Stimulated by such motives, he succeeded even beyond his most sanguine anticipations. With success came self-complacency, and he sought his father's face with a look that seemed to say " here I am, father, what do you say now." But Mr. Clements said nothing, by a word or look. " He hid behind his face," and what a hiding-place that was ! Robert could make nothing of it, so he resolved to take the initiative, for the day was wearing awav, and he was beginning to feel desperate. In ERNEST GREY. 41 fancy he saw the contemptuous sneer, and heard the mock- ing laugh of Dick Morton. With a flushed cheek he threw down his pen, and started to his feet. " Ha ! tired already," said Mr. Clements, in a chilling tone. A bad beginning, thought Robert ; but a bad beginning often makes a good end so here goes. " No, not tired exactly only a little wearied. I'm so unused to sitting ; but when I'm fairly broken in, I guess I'll work in the harness as ploddingly as the oldest stager in the concern." Mr. Clements wrote on, and gave no sign that he had heard him. " Father," said Robert, after a moment's pause, " I really think I've a talent for business. It strikes me very forcibly that I could " " Robert," said Mr. Clements, turning right round and facing his conscious son, "what's your object? Is your coming down here to-day a mere trick ? I know you are extravagant I don't want to think you mean. If you want money, ask for it, and don't beat about the bush." " If I want it ! That I do," said Robert, emphatically. " Then, sir, perhaps you will learn the proper value of it in time. You will get none from me." Mr. Clements resumed his pen, as if nothing had occurred to disturb his equanimity, and filled page after page with an industry that would have been, at once, example and 42 THE FIFTY DOLLAR BILL. reproof to Robert, if Robert had not been too much occu- pied with his own thoughts to observe him ; but all the time he was engrossed by the one idea how to get the money before evening. What was he to do ? How could he meet his gay companions without a cent of the promised sum ? He was so absorbed in his own thoughts, that he did not observe his father leaving the room, nor the entrance of one of the porters of the establishment, till the man addressed him. " Papers ? Yes, there are papers on the desk who wants them ?" " Mr. Clements," said the man. " Well, take them. These must be the ones wanted. " Was ever fellow in such a fix ?" said Robert, pacing up and down the apartment after the man departed ; " was ever any fellow hi such a fix as I am ? I'm regularly floored ! Get it I must, if I beg, borrow, or steal. Beg- ging I have tried already not much to be made by that. What if I try borrowing ? Ay ! very good ; but who'll lend two must play at that game. Why, what is this ?" On the floor, by Mr. Clements desk, lay a small piece of paper. Robert picked it up it was a fifty dollar bill. "Just the amount. Fortune owed me a good turn that's a fact ; and she's inclined to clear off scores an honest old lady, after all. But father will miss it. Pshaw ! nonsense ! not he. What an idea !" ERNEST GREY. 43 He paused a while and then continued " Now Dick Morton, my fine fellow, we'll see. Come along Bob, you are not beat yet my boy." Putting the bill in his pocket after this self commen- dation, he hastened out without a thought of the open, dis- arranged desk he left behind. CHAPTER VI. ERNEST GREY AT HOME RICHARD KANE'S UMBRELLA. A LITTLE before Grey's time for coming home, Lizzy took her sewing and hastened down, anxious to discover, if possible, her friend of the morning. The name on the handle after all might not be his, but she was in hopes that her description taken in connection with it, might enable Grey to make him out and return the umbrella. The rain was beating unmercifully against the windows, and the moaning dismal wind swept through the narrow lane making "wintry music." Up it came under the broken door frame, and through the shattered window panes, and played around the flickering lamp and shivering inmates, and then again its accompaniment, the rain, beat upon the glass. It was one of those depressing evenings that check the flow of the animal spirits as the frost binds up the stream. " Why Jane," said Lizzy entering " how comfortable the place looks it feels almost warm." " Ernest was in such low spirits this morning, anf itV ERNEST GREY. 45 so cold" she drew the thin shawl close around her " that I thought I would have the place a little comfort- able for him when he came home. So I put out the fire, put Steve in bed and kept myself as warm as I could. Now I have a good fire without being extravagant, Liz. That's the reason." " You're a dear, good soul, Jane That's what you are. But where's Steve ? Sleeping ? Shall I wake him." " Do his father will be here presently." Lizzy tried to waken him, but in vain the little eye- lids were firmly closed. " The lazy fellow ! " she said turning away " he sleeps like a top." A twitching about the mouth and a tremulous motion of the eye-lids betrayed him. " Oh ! you young rogue. I've caught vou at last," said Lizzy stooping down. He was asleep. " Well ! if I didn't think he was tricking me, Jane, and the poor child fast asleep." " No I ain't ! I ain't asleep," shouted the child, delight- ed at the success of his ruse. " I heard you all the time I was only making believe. Now let me up here's father." " Yes, and wet through," said Jane laying her hand -upon his shoulder. "Throw off that coat Ernest, and put this shawl about you." 46 RICHARD KANE'S UMBRELLA. " What ! the shawl you're wearing ? I'll do no such thing," was the almost angry reply. " Ain't she a great woman Lizzy, to be giving up her shawl ? Which of us looks the coldest. Put on your shawl Jane," he continued, coughing down some uneasy sensation. " There I'll take my coat off, if that'll satisfy you it will soon dry at that fire." " Ain't it a good fire, father ?" said Steve, triumph- antly. " Yes, my boy, a warm fire," and he drew closer to its cheerful blaze. More loud and incessant grew the dash of the rain drops, and more angry the importunate wind rattled at the case- ment, but all the brighter burned the fire, glowing and sparkling as if it derived new life and vigor from the ele- mental contest. " We had no fire all day, father, and mother kept me in bed." Ernest turned round quickly, and gave his wife one look that would have repaid her for weeks spent among Alpine snows. " How it storms," said Lizzy, as a gust shook the win- dow. " I never saw such a day." " Father don't like the rain do you, father ?" said the child. " No, my sou." ERNEST GREY. 47 "Well, father, why don't you get an umbrella? Liz has one." " Has she ? that's right." " Oh yes, and such a nice one. Where is it, Liz ?" Jane brought the umbrella, and showed it to her husband. " Richard Kane I" said he, after a close scrutiny of the Handle ; " why, that's the name of the carpenter that Mr. Clements employs sometimes," " Is he young or old ?" " "Well, he's a good-looking young fellow of twenty-five, or thereabouts." "That's his umbrella. Will you bring it to him to- morrow, Mr. Grey, and tell him Fm so thankful to him ?" "How did you come by it, Lizzy? Do you know Kane ?" "No, but I met him this morning during a heavy shower, and he forced me to take it." " Yery likely, it was him : he is just the man to do such a thing. There's not a braver nor a kinder fellow in the whole Fire Department, and that's saying a great deal. I shall bring him the umbrella to-morrow." " Don't give away the nice umbrella with the letters," said Steve. " It's mine, father." " Yours ! Oh, Steve, for shame !" said his mother. " Liz would give it to me without me asking her so she would. Wouldn't you, Liz ?" 48 RICHARD KANE'S UMBRELLA. " Come here, ray son," said his father, taking the child upon, his knee, while his sad care-worn face looked a shade sadder. "Will Liz give your marbles to Jim Birch r "No, she wont," said Steve, decidedly, "they're not hcr's ; they're mine, so they are:" " But if she'd rather give them to him ?" " She wouldn't," persisted Steve, reddening and manfully keeping down the tears "would you, Liz would you give my marbles to Jim Birch ? She wouldn't." " But if she would, Steve ?" repeated his father. " They ain't her's, father ; they're mine, and I wont let her," said Steve, thoroughly roused. " Very well," rejoined the father, putting him down ; " that umbrella belongs to Richard Kane. Now, can Liz give it to you ?" With a child's instinctive quickness he saw the drift of his father's question, and remained silent for awhile ; then turning to Lizzy Roberts, he said "I don't want the umbrella ; I'll buy one when I get money of my own." " I think I heard a noise," said Lizzy, rising ; " mother must be awake. You won't forget the umbrella, Mr. Grey ?" Lizzy found her mother sitting up in bed, impatient for a drink, and angry at having been left alone. Old age and ill health had impaired her reason, and she was often ERNEST GREY. 49 querrulous and exacting, sometimes accusing her daughter of depriving her of the requisite nourishment, and lamenting her own fate in having such a hard-hearted child. Poor Lizzy Roberts ! before this trouble all others seemed nought. She could sit and sew until two or three in the morning, eat sparingly of coarse food, and be contented ; feel her strength wearing day by day, without a care save that it might be preserved to her while her mother lived ; know that- her youth was going by the day not year and that her good looks were of the past, without a sigh. But this was too much for her she wasn't hardened to it yet. The drink was given and after some incoherent grumb- ling the old woman fell asleep. Then- Lizzy raked the dying embers together, trimmed the lamp, bathed her eyes in cold water, and drawing her bench close to the miser- able fire sat down to work. The fire did not last long, for it was not replenished. Once, indeed, she turned to the coal pail but it was half empty, and with a sigh the needle was resumed. Thus she sat and sewed for hours ; the noisy city became gradually still, the sounds of life died away, the wind which had worn itself out gently expired, and nothing was heard save the ceaseless drip of the rain. Terrified at finding herself yielding to sleep, Lizzy had again recourse to the cold water, and, after a vigorous application, took up her unfinished task. She worked 50 THE SHIRT SEWER. rapidly for a while but sleep overcame her. " Blessings on the man who invented sleep " said Sancho Panza, but how would Lizzy Roberts, and her sad sisterhood bless the man who could annihilate sleep. " If I was sure to awake at five," said Lizzy, continu- ing the debate with herself that had been going on for a long time, " I might lay down. I guess the cold won't let me sleep too long I could finish it up in two hours." Having placed the matches at hand for the morning, and carefully extinguished the lamp, Lizzy wrapped a shawl around her, threw herself across the foot of the bed, and was soon in a fitful troubled slumber. CHAPTER VII. PAY-UAY IN THE SHIRT STORE. HOW THEY DO BUSINESS IN MR. SHAKPE'S. LIZZY ROBERTS' BOARDER. As Lizzy had foreseen, the cold wakened her early enough, and she arose shivering, with fingers numb and temples burning, but she had no time to be sick, so after squeez- ing and rubbing her hands to warm them, she began where she had left off three hours before, and by seven had her work neatly folded up ready to take to the store. One hasty glance at the bed to assure herself that her mother still slept, and snatching up her bundle with a lighter heart than usual she hurried away. It was pay-day, and she thought as she hastened to the store how delighted her mother would be to get a good cup of tea, and the unusual luxury of butter. Now Mr. Sharpe was a tactician in his way, equal to any military or political strategist that ever rose to fame ; indeed in the abstruse science of business politics he had no superior. In his store there was one fixed principle of action, one settled rale of business never to receive work 52 PAY-DAY IN THE SHIRT STORE. without making depreciatory remarks upon it, lest the girls thinking it faultless might become remiss, just as a jockey would apply whip and spur to a horse at full speed to prevent him slacking. Of course Lizzy had to go through the ordeal, and after that was told there was no work cut out that she might wait ; and she did wait for more than an hour and was then told to leave her book and it would be made up. " Not pay to-day 1" exclaimed an indignant voice. " Why not ? You told me you paid your hands every week ; and here have I been working for a month without receiving a cent. How do you expect we can get on without money ?" " Can't pay to-day," was the curt reply of the cashier. " Got a bill to meet." " And have I not got a bill to meet ? have I not got my board to pay ? I must have my book settled." " So must I," said one, " and so must I," said another. " Say, Mr. Jones," said a tremulous voice, " won't you settle my book ? You promised last week indeed you did. I don't feel well, and I want to go to an aunt I have in Connecticut. I told you all about it last week." The speaker was a slight, young girl, with sunken eyes, and cheeks brilliant with that deadly cosmetic consump- tion. Her hand was pressed to her side while speaking, as 5f the exertion pained her, and her words were jerked 00} at intervals. ERNEST GREY. 53 Mr. Jones winced under this appeal he remembered his promise perfectly, and if she had been alone he would probably have kept it. But what could he do he got orders not to pay, and he could not venture to disregard them. " Connecticut I Poor thing I" murmured one of the workers who stood beside Lizzy ; " the air of Italy wouldn't save her. Mr. Jones," she said aloud, " settle her book, and I'll leave mine over for a week, and so I'm sure will others." " God knows I would cheerfully," said an elderly woman, " if I had no one to think of but myself, but I can't forget my two little children." " Nor I my poor mother," whispered Lizzy, turning her moistened eyes to the person beside her. " It ain't a great deal," said the young girl, " only four dollars ; I couldn't earn much. I wouldn't mind coming again for it, if I was able." " Are you going to pay any one ?" said the person who resented his want of punctuality. " Can't do it," was the dogged reply. "Why do you put in your advertisements 'pay every week,' then, humbugging people." " Who's raising her voice in this store ?" said the pro- prietor majestically, opening the parlor-door and display- ins a well-furnished breakfast-tablo. 54 HOW THEY DO BUSINESS IN MB. SHARPED. " A woman kicking up a muss about her money," replied the clerk. " Discharge that woman, Thomas ; we can't have dis- orderly people working for us. What's on her book ? Let me see." " Six dollars and thirty-seven cents. Can you change a dollar bill, missus ?" An emphatic shake of the head was the only answer. " It isn't every one can afford to throw up work," solilo- quized the gentleman, examining a plethoric pocket-book. " / can't afford to throw up my customers. Ah, you can't change a dollar bill ? Then you've got to come after the thirty-seven cents again, or I'll change it for you and deduct sixpence that's the rate in Wall street." " Sixpence for changing a bill !" exclaimed the woman, amazed. " I could get it changed in any grocery store up town." " You could, eh ? Well, you see we haven't got the up- town way of doing business here. We do different. Will you have it, ma-am ? We don't want to force you to take it." " Of course I must," she .said, indignantly ; " I can't be coming after it all the time." " Six dollars and thirty-one cents all right, ma-am we don't cheat any one in this establishment. Thomas, you can manage matters without me, I suppose." EBNEST GREY. 55 Having arranged this matter to his satisfaction, the shirt manufacturer returned to his comfortable breakfast, inveighing against the insolent and discontented spirit of the poor. As soon as he left the store, the young girl who had been so kind to Lizzy Roberts on a previous occasion, came from behind the counter, and stooping down, put four dollars into the hand of the poor invalid, saying in a low voice " Thomas will pay it back to me. Go to your aunt at once." Mr. Jones declared positively that he would pay all hands in two days, and deterred by the vigorous measures of Mr. Sharpe, they left the store dissatisfied, but silent. Sorrowfully Lizzy retraced her steps. How could she return home how soothe her mother's childish fretfulness how apologize to the grocer who had trusted her so long, and who expected payment to-day. " I have got to do it," she repeated to herself again and again, as if the phrase were a spell to exorcise indecision "I have got to do it I wish I was at home. Half-past nine !" she said aloud, as she looked at the City Hall clock "two whole hours lost !" " Yon walk very fast, Miss Roberts. I found it difficult to overtake you." Lizzy turned, and saw beside her the person who had proposed to do without her money, on condition that her 56 LIZZY ROBERTS' BOARDER. invalid fellow-worker was provided with means to go to Connecticut. Margaret Linwood, for such was the name of her new companion, seemed to be five or six years older, and judging from the expression of her features, had more intellect and strength of character. She might be con- sidered a type of that class of women who are sometimes to be met with" in the work-rooms of the great metropolis, and who have been reduced from a state of independence to labor for their support. To considerable natural abili- ties were added the advantages of a liberal education, and these, combined with high principles and a kind benevolent heart, made Margaret Linwood a woman of no ordinary character. "I wanted to make up for the time I lost in the store," said Lizzy ; "we have been kept waiting so long. I wonder Mr Sharpe can reconcile it to his con- science." " Oh 1 he is on such good terms with his conscience," replied Margaret, "that he can afford to take liberties with it. Besides, Mr. Sharpe is a great moral teacher he gives his workers facilities for practicing the sublime Chris- tian virtues, patience and humility, and he disinterestedly gives them, in his own person, examples of what they should avoid. But it was not for the purpose of passing a eulogium on Mr. Sharpe that I followed you : I want to know if you will take me as a boarder." ERNEST GREY. 57 " Boarder !" repeated Lizzy with unfeigned astonish raent ; " we have no accommodations for any one." "I don't want accommodations. How could a shirt- sewer pay for them ? I want a shelter a corner in the room occupied by yourself and mother would be accommo- dation enough for me. If you cannot board me, at least give me house-room, and I will pay half the rent." " I don't know what to say," replied Lizzy ; "I would like to consult mother. But you don't know how miserable our place is." " The place I live in is not very magnificent ; the rent is three dollars a month." " That's what we pay." " Then by my plan we could each save three shillings a week, and it would take some thousand stitches to earn that." "I know it," assented Lizzy; "but my mother is very old and very ill, and she talks wild sometimes : besides, we live in the attic." " So much the better I can work 6n without interrup- tion. Nothing could there distract my attention." "This is the place," said Lizzy, turning down Short's alley, and stealing a glance at her companion, to see the effect it produced, for during the walk she had been revolv- ing the proposition in her mind, until she realized its advan- tages. Three shillings a week without an extra stitch turn it as she would, it meant that. 58 LIZZY ROBERTS' BOARDER. They made their way up the trembling stairs, avoiding the frail balusters, more a trap than a support, and heard Mrs. Roberts' incoherent mutterings, even before they entered the room. Lizzy immediately made known to her Margaret's proposition, to which she listened attentively, but the only clear idea she had was, that they were to receive three shillings a w.eek. " And when you get so much money, Lizzy," she said in a tone of childish entreaty, " won't you buy me some wine ?" " Yes, mother, yes." _ ' ' Say, Lizzy," she continued in an audible whisper, ' ' couldn't the lady give you the money now, and let you buy it ?" Lizzy was just then seized with a violent fit of coughing, and of course could not hear her mother's suggestion ; cer- tainly she did not reply to it, but bustled about the room, making an unusual noise for one so quiet. Margaret had taken her seat on a chair at the foot of the bed, and listened to the old woman's words without appearing to hear them, and noticed Lizzy's transparent stratagem with- out appearing to see it. " Well, Miss Roberts," she said, addressing Lizzy, " you have given me no answer yet. Believe me, I would not be troublesome, either as a lodger or boarder. If I under- stand your mother, she will not object." " No 1 no ! no ! nor Lizzy neither," exclaimed the old woman, with unusual vehemence. ERNEST GREY. 59 "Yery well, then ; it's all settled." Opening her little bundle, she took out her work and began sewing, while Lizzy was coaxing the kettle to boil with the smallest possible modicum of fire ; but the kettle was obstinate it would not be coaxed it stood upon its dignity, and required just as much heat there as in the kitchens of the Fifth Avenue. All the time that Lizzy seemed intent only on boiling the kettle, she was nerving herself to face the grocer. Her evident abstraction was observed, and rightly interpreted by Margaret, who knew the cruel disappointment she had suffered that morning at the store. " You are to be housekeeper," she said, " so you will take charge of this dollar, and every pay-day we will make up our accounts." Relieved thus opportunely, Lizzy set about preparing breakfast in real earnest ; and while she is thus occupied, we will see how it fares with the other characters in our story. CHAPTER VIII. THE STOLEN BILL PHYSIC AND LITERATURE PRISON DISCIPLINE. WITH a brow more clouded than usual, Mr. Clements returned home. Contrary to Robert's expectations, he missed the bill almost immediately, and hurried back to his office in search of it. It is needless to say that his efforts were fruitless. On whom did his suspicions fall ? On Robert ? Not for a moment. Though Robert was wild, thoughtless and extravagant, he was his son, and to suspect him, would be to insult himself. His son become a thief '.preposterous. He would have repelled the idea indignantly, if such an idea could have entered his mind. No ; if he thought of Robert's visit to the counting-house, it was a fortunate occurrence by which lie might ascertain, with more exactness, the time the money disappeared. It was not the amount lost that annoyed him, but the fact that there was some one about him he could not trust. If fifty dollars were taken, why not a thousand why not more ? ERNEST GREY. 61 Agatha observed her father's gloomy look, and attributed it to Robert's having asked for the fifty dollars ; but deem- ing it more prudent to appear ignorant of the matter, she abstained from alluding to it, even indirectly. " I want Robert. Is he at home, Agatha ?" inquired Mr. Clements. " I think not," she replied, at a loss to understand what he was required for, for her father's voice had lost the asperity with which he generally spoke of, or to, his son. One thing was evident to her, he did not want to lecture him the annoyance, whatever it was, proceeded from some other quarter. It was soon ascertained that Robert was not at home, having left about half an hour before his father arrived. Mr. Clements felt disappointed, and in moody silence paced up and down the room, thinking over all the circumstances connected with the theft, and endeavoring to fix upon the guilty party. Mrs. Clements, unconscious of or indifferent to what was going on about her, was attentively studying the last new novel, and had just reached the most interest- ing part of the story, where difficulties gather around the heroine like clouds around the sun at eventide, when she was interrupted by the entrance of visitors. Mrs. Alworthy and her daughters were remarkable for nothing in particular. They dressed and talked just like other people ; minded their neighbors business more than 62 PHYSIC AND LITERATURE their own, just like other people, and, in fact, were rather common-place altogether. Mr. Hamilton, a relative of theirs, and a highly-esteemed friend of Mr. Clements, accompanied them. " Dear Mrs. Clements, I am delighted to see you have so much energy," said Mrs. Alworthy, glancing at the open book. " You feel better." " Better ! Oh, no ; I don't expect ever to feel better. I have ceased to hope." " Don't you think reading is too exciting for your nerves ? too fatiguing." " How ridiculous to say that novels are fatiguing," said Miss Alworthy, addressing Agatha. " They never fatigue me that is, if they have plenty of love and murder, and robbery, and that kind of thing in them." "Does one murder satisfy you, Letty?" inquired Mr. Hamilton. " Pshaw ! one murder is nothing in a book." " ' Who peppers the highest is surest to please,' " said Mr. Clements. " Sue and Dumas will give you excitement enough." " Oh, yes ; they are delightful. Everybody likes them. You do, of course, Miss. Clements. No ! Why not ? Don't you like his style of writing, his characters, and all that ?" " No ; I like neither his characters, nor his incidents. I think they are both unnatural and improbable. If we ERNEST OBEY. 63 must have monsters, I, for my part, infinitely prefer the perfect monsters of the old school." " Their women ought to be sent to the Magdalene Asy- lum, and their men to Sing Sing," said Mr. Clements, sternly. " Monte Christo and Fleur de Marie are splendid types of manly persistence and womanly purity." "Don't talk about such dreadful things," said Mrs. Clements, imploringly ; -then addressing Mrs. Alworthy, she added " I'm a perfect sensitive plant ; the slightest thing agitates me 1 :" " Have you heard of this new wonder discovered by a French Chemist?" inquired Mrs. Alworthy, lowering her voice. Mrs. Clements became animated at once. " Elixir vitae !" she exclaimed. " I feel a presentment that that would cure me. Where is it to be got ?" "Somewhere in Wall street. I forget the number. Mr. Clements can find out the exact place." "Xo, no, impossible I'm so unfortunately situated all my family enjoy such robust health, that they have no sympathy for my sickness. They can't understand it they have an idea it can always be traced to some extra- neous cause. Indeed, I overheard Robert say that sickness was always a punishment for some violation of the physical laws ; and that we ought to be as much ashamed of being sick as intoxicated. He did not wish me to hear it, but, 64 PHYSIC AND LITERATURE. nevertheless, it hurt my feelings considerably to know that he entertained such opinions." " Certainly, of course ;" said her friend, sympathizingly. " You recollect that last great medicine, the ' Hystera- pipus.' Well, I prpcured it. Robert muttered something terrible about humbug. Mr. Clements pshaw'd and turned upon his heel, and Agatha entreated me to take very little of it." " Well, my dear Mrs. Clements, you certainly must have had great strength of mind and fortitude to take it in face of such opposition. But what effect had it on you ?" " I'm firmly persuaded I would have been benefited by it, if I had complied rigidly with the directions, but I really forget now why I did not I presume they pre- vailed upon me to discontinue it. However, I don't think it suited me exactly." " You know Mrs. Wilson ?" Mrs. Clements did. " She was effectually cured by the Hysterapipus." " Oh, but Mrs. Wilson was not affected as I am," said Mrs. Clements, with the tone of one who felt the compari- son to be insulting, and resented it. " She's not of a nervous temperament ; she's never carried away by her feelings ; she has no enthusiasm. She could read the most affecting work without being moved by it. I have actually seen her lay down a book, in the middle of a thrilling pas- ERNEST GREY. 65 sage, to attend to her crying baby I really did, and that's a piece of stoicism I cannot comprehend. Are they talking about that wretched Sing Sing again ?" The conversation between the gentlemen had by this time become animated, arising out of Mr. Clements' sum- mary way of dealing with the heroes of Sue and Dumas. " Then you consider our present system of prison disci- pline defective," remarked Mr. Clements. ''\yn " Defective is not the proper term," replied Mr. Hamil- ton. " I consider it radically wrong. Place the boy or man who has made but one false step, with the criminal who has grown grey in iniquity the pupil who has not mastered the A B C of crime with its boasting professor ! What can be the result ? What is the result ? Society flings them from her bosom, and they are Ishmaels thence- forth. The next session sees them up again for punish- ment." "You are proving my case," said Mr. Clements, tri- umphantly. " The very moment they are out of the hands of the police, they return to their former haunts and occu- pations. This, you yourself admit. Is it not another ver- sion of what I have said, that they are prone to evil, and must be held in check ?" " You misunderstand me. I do not admit that they are more prone to evil than you, or I, or any other man. If we were placed in the like circumstances, subjected to the 66 PRISON DISCIPLINE. same influences, educated as they have been it may be, tempted as they have been, we might add another to the proofs of human depravity that the perverted industry of man brings against his own species. The prisoner enters his cell, guilty, we will admit ; but still a human being he leaves it what our laws make him ; and if ' the second state of that man is worse than the first,' where lies the blame ?" " With the individual, I say again," replied Mr. Clements. " He is naturally bad, each day makes him worse there is no road to the man's heart impunity makes him bold dis- covery makes him reckless. No, my dear sir ; you can do nothing with him. And, depend upon it, there are none of these such novices as you imagine ; they have not been detected in the first offence, nor the second, nor the third. What would you do with them ? Let them loose upon society ? We are living in the nineteenth century, Mr. Hamilton, and in the United States not Utopia." " Granted," said Mr. Hamilton, smiling. " What would I do with them ? I would treat them as men erring, it is true, but still my fellow-creatures. Hatred for the crime, but compassion for the criminal, is my creed. During the last century we have improved wonderfully in our treatment of the insane, and what is moral turpitude but ' the heart's insanity ?' We are desirous of healing one we are only anxious to punish the other." ERNEST GREY. 67 " I see what would suit you moral hospitals, not prisons. Ha ! ha ! ha ! Hamilton, it won't do ; you are as mad as Don Quixote." " ' They that are whole need not a physician ; but they that are sick/ " said Agatha, quietly. "This is a social, not a religious question," said Mr. Clements, turning to his daughter with a look that added " not a fit subject for you, Agatha." " If prisons were as they ought to be, reformatory estab- lishments, ' moral hospitals ' would be a good name, I will not quarrel with it. Now, Mr. Clements, imagine to your- self how effective our hospitals would be if they followed the prison system if men suffering from neglected cold were placed in the same ward with fever patients, how many would be dismissed cured, think you ? Yet this is the plan we pursue in moral distempers, though the con- tagion works quicker, and the consequences are more deplorable." " Oh, my dear sir, there is no analogy whatever. Disease is not the result of choice no man wishes to be sick no man would shrink from a remedy, though unpalatable. Is it so in cases of moral distemper, or what I in my old- fashioned phraseology call crimes ? Are they forced to fall ? Who, or what compels them ? Have they no alternative ? or are they free agents, and if so, are they not responsible ? If they sin, let them suffer. If they are 68 PRISON DISCIPLINE. afflicted with the moral infirmity of loving their neighbor too little, and his property too much, would you not seek a remedy ?" " My first care would be that the remedy was not worse than the disease. My second, that it should not only sup- press the symptoms, but eradicate the cause. But I do not believe that vice is the result of choice, generally speak- ing many men enter the prison, for the first time, either under unjust suspicion, or because they are forced into the commission of crime by the direst necessity. But they are not the only criminals the only moral lepers with which society is afflicted the thief and the burglar may steal your property, and you can imprison them for doing so, but what punishment can you inflict upon the man who slanders you, or destroys the peace of your family ? If he is rich, his wealth stands like a rampart between him and the law, against which all your assaults are in vain. So- ciety does not regard such men as criminals, yet let the poor man be but once suspected, and he is disgraced for- ever. He is thrown into the tainted atmosphere of a prison ; he is compelled to associate with men who are hardened in iniquity ; but worse than all, the possibility of crime is suggested to him, and the next time he enters the prison there is no room for suspicion." "Proving how correct the first estimate of the man's character had been. Do you really believe that one man, ERNEST GREY. 69 or twenty men can drive another into crime by suspecting him of it ? Must I be dishonest because you are sus- picious ? Are our good or evil deeds only the reflex of our neighbor's character ?" , Mr. Clements paused in triumph. " Men generally," said Mr. Hamilton, " square their con- duct with their reputation it is not what they would wish to do, but what is expected of them that's the idea by which they are actuated. I know some natures can defy the distrust of friends and the force of example ; but they are few in number, and must have a stronger support than morality, however exalted. Deciduous trees are more com- mon than evergreens." "Apropos of trees, do you remember, Hamilton, what Carlyle says about neglecting the wood while sound, and searching for it when rotten, to fashion it into something useful r " If I recollect the passage aright, it is intended to incite to early exertion, and not for the purpose of ridiculing any effort, however late. However, similies are poor argu- ments. To return to the education of circumstances does not familiarity with danger make a man indifferent to it, and familiarity with crime lessen his abhorrence of it ? The gradations have been well defined ' First abhor, then pity, then embrace." 70 PRISON DISCIPLINE. Then what an amount of responsibility rests upon those who familiarize him with it who force it on his observa- tion who leave him no escape. After the convict has been discharged, what chance has he ? He is free, to be sure, and so is the man thrown into an open boat on the ocean, but who is to encourage or help ?" " My dear fellow 1" said Mr. Clements, " excuse me for saying that that is very excellent philanthropic nonsense ; but would you trust one of those discharged convicts with a thousand dollars ?" " Yes, unhesitatingly. But, observe, I would trust him with it, not throw it in his way. He should understand he was trusted, and my life on it, not one in a hundred would betray a trust reposed under such circumstances. But do not imagine that I would abolish punishment for crime. Imprison, certainly, but do not drive out one disease by creating another. It is not to the confinement I object, but to its accessories. One attack of sickness does not make a man an invalid for life, though unskillful treatment often makes the disease chronic. Why should one fault make him an outcast ? If there be not a recu- perative power in our moral, as hi our physical nature, we ought to have been created impeccable." " You forget," said Mr. Clements, " ' that virtue is not virtue if she stumble.' Why don't you philanthropists take up the cause of the guiltless poor ? Are there not ERNEST GREY. 71 thousands of women struggling for a precarious livelihood in this city, for whom you might exert yourselves ; or are your sympathies exclusively for the vicious ?" "There are many evils in society calling loudly for redress," replied Mr. Hamilton ; " and is it not better to take up even the least of these, than to stand idle debating upon their order of precedence ?" "You are perfectly right, Mr. Hamilton," said Mrs. Clements, now for the first time taking part in the discus- sion. " You remind me of an occurrence that took place yesterday. Agatha had a tangled skein of silk to unravel, and she lost so much time looking for the right end, that I told her to take any end she could get ; and, I assure you, if she had not done so, the skein would have been unraveled yet." " Thanks, my dear madam, for your admirable illustra- tion," said Mr. Hamilton, bowing to his fair ally. " Work with an earnest will must accomplish something. Next century will look back on our treatment of prisoners, as we look back upon the rack, the dungeon, and the pressing to death." " Oh next century, I have no doubt, will be too enlight- ened to tolerate that relic of barbarism a prison," rejoined Mr. Clements. " Why let the next age make capital out of us," said 72 PKISON DISCIPLINE. Mr. Hamilton, laughing. " Here is a chance to get ahead of them, if we chose." " Oh, George, you would not abolish prisons," said Mrs. Alworthy, in an accent of indignant terror. " If Mr. Hamilton could do as he pleases, a walk hi Broadway would not be the simple thing it is now, Mrs. Alworthy. You would meet more rogues than gentlemen more thieves than traders." " Bless me ! how dreadful 1 Really, George, you ought to be ashamed of holding such opinions." " Give up your clients, Hamilton," said Mr. Clements ; " they will do you no credit." " But can I do them good ? that's the question an advocate should ask. However, I may give up the sub- ject, for it is one upon which you and I can never agree." " Then you should never discuss it, George," said Mrs. Alworthy- " that's the plan I adopted with Miss Spencer, when we could not agree about the shade of Mrs. Syrns new hat. I knew it was the real imperial purple the genuine Tyrian dye, and she insisted that it was wine color mere wine color." "It is of very little consequence what color Miss Syms has in her hat, for all colors are equally unbecoming to her," said Miss Alworthy. " Oh, she has a mind superior to such considerations, Letty," sneered her sister ; " you know she reads noth- "MY WIFE AND CHILD ARE STARVING,'' HE ADDED APOLC- cr.Tic ALLY, "AND I CAN DO NorniNC, FOR THEM." ERNEST GREY. 73 ing lighter than Schlegel, and sings nothing simpler than the soprano solos in Puritani." " I can certify to her reading the fashions," said Miss Clements ; " and I verily believe I have heard her sing a ballad." " Dear me ; what condescension ! It is all in keeping for poor me to do such things but a literary lady only think 1" " Is Miss Syms a literary lady, Helen ?" inquired Mr. Hamilton, addressing the other Miss Alworthy. " Yes, of the deepest dye. Ain't you afraid of her ?" " No, my fair cousin. You are not afraid of her, and why should I be more timid than you ?" " What literary lady used to have such dirty hands T- inquired Mrs. Clements. " Oh, yes it was Lady Mary Montague, and I remember thinking, when I read it, that it accounted at once for the popular prejudice. 1 ' " Against dirty hands," said Mr. Clements, with great gravity. " I am sorry I cannot agree with you, but for my part I think that prejudice is of more ancient date." " You know very well what I mean, Mr. Clements, and you should not affect to misunderstand me." " Very likely, my dear. But, Miss Alworthy, what are the signs and tokens by which I can recognize a literary lady ?" 74 PRISON DISCIPLINE. "I really could not tell you, Mr. Clements. I know them by a kind of instinct." " 'Instinct is a great matter,' certainly, but I fear mine is not so acute as yours." "Then they are always reading," she added, in a tone of evident disgust ; " I wonder what is the use of reading about what they did in Greece and Rome centuries ago. I'm sure it would be a great deal more useful, not to speak of its being more amusing, to read the descriptions of the latest Paris fashions, or an invitation to a ball, or the list of amusements in the morning papers. But speaking of fashions reminds me Of Miss North. How is she ?" " Quite well," replied Agatha ; " I had a letter from her yesterday, and she promises to come down next week and make quite a long visit." " Ah, indeed !" said Miss Letty Alworthy, " that is good news for one gentleman, I know. Ain't it, George ?" " For more than one, I presume, Letty. Miss North is universally admired." "Emily is so lively," remarked Mrs. Clements "too much so. I always have a headache when she is in the house ; but if I said so, she would only laugh the more." . " Ah, mother, how can you say so," said Agatha " it is delightful to have her in the house. Robert says that when she is with us, she reminds him of 'sunshine in a shady place/ and he always calls her ' Sunshine.' " ERNEST GREY. 75 " I have no doubt George thinks so too," replied Miss Al worthy ; " but he is so sly, that he wouldn't say any- thing. However, I know very well ; but you needn't look so frightened, George, I don't mean to tell." " Tell what you please, Letty. No secrets of mine are in your keeping." " Are they not ? Well then, Miss Clements, he is over head and ears in love with your cousin Emily ! What do you say to that ?" "That it does equal credit to his head and heart," said Agatha, imitating the tone and manner of a public speaker. " Young ladies," said Mrs. Alworthy, breaking up a half-whispered conversation with Mrs. Clements, and ad- dressing her daughters " do you forget that we promised to call on Mrs. Spencer? No no not now, my dear ?\Irs. Clements some other time, I shall be pleased to stay. Well, good-bye !" " Good-bye, Miss Clements," said Helen. " ' Parting is such sweet sorrow, That I could say good-bye till it be morrow.' " " Beware of the purple hat, Mrs. Alworthy," said Mr. Clements, in a warning voice, as they were leaving the door. " Oh, probably Miss Syms 1ms got a new one." 76 PRISON DISCIPLINE. " No, no impossible : she was not in church last Sun- day." " Then she certainly has not got one," said Mr. Hamil- ton, " or she would have been there. Women are so grate- ful for blessings of that kind, that they invariably go to church to return thanks the very first opportunity ; and I have always observed that the ardor of their piety is in proportion to the beauty of their dress." "Miss Syms would go three times a day," said Miss Alworthy ; " she's always religious when she's well dressed." " Then a new fashion is equal to a revival," said Mr. Clements, "and Parisian Modistes are but faithful allies and auxiliaries of religion." "Certainly," said Agatha, "who could be religious in an old hat, or who would mope at home that had a new one. Besides, nothing but sheer selfishness could make any one satisfied with merely having they should ' suffer themselves to be admired.' " " I think so too," said Helen Alworthy ; " and not be like a friend of mine, who is afraid to let any one see her hats or her dresses, lest they might get the same." "Miss Clements, do you know Mrs. Seymour ?" inquired Mr. Hamilton. " Yes ; very well. What a beautiful woman she is ?" "Well., my friend Seymour says that, ever since their marriage, she has been subject to periodic fits of piety, and ERNEST GREY. 77 that these fits are simultaneous with the changes in the fashions. The moment a new style of hat comes in, she ,is seized with godliness, and must to church three times a day. But now he is beginning to understand the symptoms of the disease, and he says in future he will adopt the labor-saving plan, and in place of going to church, he will arrange the hat on a salver, label it ' Mrs. Seymour's hat,' send it to church, and have it placed in the most conspicuous position. By this means he will satisfy his wife, spare himself a fatigu- ing walk, and gain a triple share of attention and notoriety for the article on exhibition." " What nonsense you talk, George," said Mrs. Alworthy. " Really, you ought to be ashamed." " He is an out-spoken libeler, ladies," said Mr. Clements ; " but deal with him as gently as you can. Take care of yourself, George." The ladies, in company with Mr. Hamilton, took their departure, and proceeded on their way to Mrs. Spencer's, leaving Mr. Clements to meditate on the events of that day, AKREST OF ERNEST GREY THE MOTHER AND CHILD. ERXEST GREY proceeded to his work next morning, so occu- pied with his own thoughts, that he forgot the umbrella. Seeing one of the carpenters at work brought it to hia remembrance, and he passed over to make inquiries about Richard Kane. When he got within speaking distance, the carpenter dropped his plane, and went off in the oppo- site direction. Ernest hailed him, but to no purpose. Annoyed, he knew not why, he entered the warehouse, ant) found Mr. Clements in close conversation with a police officer. " That's the man," said Mr. Clements, pointing to Grey. "You are arrested for having stolen fifty dollars from Mr. Clements office last night," said the officer, in an ex- planatory tone. " Stolen !" exclaimed Ernest, bewildered, yet indignant ; " what do you mean ? Don't lay your hands on me, 1 warn you. Stolen 1 who says it ?" "Mr. Clements your employer." ERNEST GREY. 79 " Mr. Clements !" Grey could scarcely speak, so great was his emotion, for lie saw clearly the consequences of the charge " Mr. Clements, do you accuse me of this thing ?" "Yes," replied Mr. Clements, coldly; "but if von are guiltless, it will be easy to clear yourself of the charge." " What right have you*to believe that it was I who did it why not suspect him, or him ?" he said, pointing to men who were in the office. " My reason for accusing you will be made known at the propev time and place. These men I know." " If you don't know me well enough to trust, you don't know me well enough to suspect me. How could I get to your money ?" " I don't want to discuss the question now," said Mr. Clements, turning away abruptly. " Officer, do your duty." , " Don't lay your hands on me, I warn you," said Grey, passionately, flinging the policeman from him as he spoke. " So that's your dodge you want to escape eh ! You had better not try that on again, mind you it won't do I'm wide awake for you !" exclaimed the offended official, grasping him tightly by the collar, and beckoning to another, who stood outside, to assist him. Thus accompanied, Grey was passed through the streets, and lodged in the Tombs, until he could be brought up for examination. 80 THE MOTHER AND CHILD. Bad news travels quickly, and Jane was not long left in ignorance of what had happened. Who could do justice to the feelings of the wife at this startling announcement ? All she had endured all the horrors of that dreadful winter were nothing compared with this this was a woe that sympathy might aggravate, but could not soothe. Her first impulse was to go^o him, to strengthen, to console to make his mind easy about her and Steve, and to tell him that if all the world believed him guilty, she did not. Like a true woman, strong when those she loved required support, she felt no weakness she could work oh, Jane ! Jane, with those poor weak arms yes, she could work she could support herself and Steve, for well she knew they would be his first and last thought, and she could make him comfortable in prison. "When such were her objects, could she fail ? With a strong effort she repressed her tears, and made the preparations her scanty wardrobe allowed. But when told that she could not see him till the following day, her fortitude gave way, and flinging herself across the bed, she v gave full vent to her tears. How long she remained thus she knew not, but she was roused at last by Steve striking against the door, with all the impotence of childish passion, and trying to get in. "Mother, come here," he said, dragging her by the sleeve his eyes sparklinsr through the tears that, as they ERNEST GREY. 81 fell, were dried up on the burning- cheek <( coine here and speak to Willy Short. He is calling father names ; he says he's a a " and poor Steve, after trying bravely, gave way, and sobbed as if his heart would break. She drew him gently in, and shut the door ; then taking him on her knee, tried to soothe ; but Steve, like a child, the more he was comforteCPthe more he cried. "There there- -have done now. That's my own son. Be a good boy." 'Twas useless. " Oh, Stevey !" she exclaimed, in an uncontrollable out- burst of grief, " won't you try and be a good boy while your father is away ?" The reality of her grief awed the child, and he remained quite still, looking with round-eye'd wonder at the big drops that forced their way through her fingers. He had never seen her cry before, for Jane was a wise as well as a loving mother, and though the greater part of the child's existence had been passed amid penury, she repressed any outward manifestation of grief that might have saddened his youth- ful mind. But now the one great sorrow absorbed her to the exclusion of every other idea the last blow dealt by fortune had stunned her for a time, and Steve was almost forgotten. Weep on, weep on better the rain should fall than the sky be always clouded. After watchincr her for some time with childish amaze- 82 THE MOTHER AND CHILD. ment, Steve inserted his little fingers between her hands, and strove, with gentle violence, to part them, that he might see her face, whispering at the same time " Steve ain't crying, mamma Steve ain't naughty." The touch of those small, soft hands what power was in them. Dashing away the tears that would fall of their own accord, Jane strained the child to her heart, kissed the fair, smooth brow, and said " Yes, darling ! Steve is a good boy it's Steve's mamma that's naughty to-day." And Steve, proud of his mother's approbation, sat by the window, quiet as a mouse, turning over in his busy little head the events of the morning, in his endeavors to discover by what inexplicable means Willy Short had got the whip hand of him. What is the heroism of man on tented field or foaming wave, compared to the quiet courage with which woman, solitary and alone, sits down, face to face, with grief. Oh dread companionship ! how much easier is heroism in action than in endurance. If Jane could have sought relief in action, her grief would have gradually become less poig- nant ; but that anodyne was denied her. With severe self-accusation, she remembered that the work Lizzy Ro- berts had procured for her would be required to-niorrow, and it was not ready yet. Eagerly she sought for it, as if it were a rampart against thought ; but the work that ERNEST GREY. 83 occupies the fingers and leaves the mind free, is sorrow's staunchest auxiliary. Look at her face as the work pro- ceeds, and say, has it lulled thought to sleep ? No, no one moment she flushes crimson, and the needle passes through the fine linen quick as lightning ; but the next she shivers, as if with cold, and her hands fall listlessly upon her knees that work has not banished thought. " Say, mother," said Steve, " where did *you buy my coat this ne'.v coat" the one made from his mother's cloak. " I didn't buy it, Steve." " You didn't buy it I" repeated the child. " You did I know you did. Willy Short says you stole it ; but 1 know better, and I knocked him down, too," said Steve, triumphantly. Jane winced. The child's simple words made her, for the first time, realize the full sense of their disgrace even children were cognizant of it. With a heavy sigh Mrs. Grey put aside her work, and sat down by the child. " My son," she said, earnestly, " you must not knock any of the boys down, or quarrel with them. If you do, they won't let you play with them." " I don't care," said Steve, doggedly. " I don't want to play with them. Willy Short told all the boys not to play with me, or I'd steal their marbles." 84 THE MOTHER AND CHILD. " My poor boy ! my poor Steve !" said his mother, deeply affected and kissing him fondly; "they didn't believe him." " Yes they did," replied Steve, with strange bitterness for one so young. " I know they did, for they grabbed up their marbles as fast as anything, and then I knocked him down, and then he said my father was a thief." " Hush !" said Jane, inexpressibly shocked, and putting her hand, across the child's mouth. " Oh, Steve, how could you say that !" If there is one thing harder to bear than another, it is censure where we expect praise, and this was Stephen Grey's case at that moment. The childish spirit that had so fiercely resented insult, shrunk from his mother's sorrow- ful rebuke. His eyes filled, his lips quivered, and worn out by the first excess of emotion, he cried himself to sleep. Even in that moment of sorrow, Mrs. Grey felt a thrill of maternal pride, as she looked upon her sleeping child. The bright brown hair, which it was her pride and pleasure to keep smooth and glossy, fell in confusion on the fair forehead ; tear drops were quivering on the long eye- lashes ; and emotion had imparted a brilliancy to the full round cheeks, that rivalled the rich cherry color of the pouting lips. Long and earnestly she gazed, scanning every feature with fond yet melancholy admiration, think- ing all the while with Constance that ERNEST GEEY. 85 " Since the birth of Cain, the first male child, To him that did but yesterday suspire, There was not such a gracious creature born." She laid him gently on the bed, and re-commenced her sewing, striving, with an earnestness that insured success, to compose her mind, and arrange her r)lans for the future. CHAPTER X, ERNEST GREY IX PRISON A WORLD WITHIN THE WORLD AN EXECUTION. ERXEST GREY had been thrust into the common prison, where boys and men of every age, from twelve to sixty, were grouped together, pickpockets, thieves, burglars, swindlers, forgers recounting their exploits, and boasting of their adroitness in eluding detection, and the number of times they had foiled the police. Ribald jests and obscene stories, the light artillery of vice, went flying through the room, until shame, virtue's frailest, last defense, was broken down, and many a cheek that had that morning blushed at the idea of disgrace, blushed, for the last time, a shade deeper at the recollection. Intentions, resolutions, aspira- tions, that under favorable circumstances might have borne fruit, withered in the noisome atmosphere of that hot-bed of crime. There the tyro learned to glory in his calling learned that there was a world within the world, before, unknown to him, governed by its own codes, where he could gain renown and where the gradations were as nicely ERNEST GREY. 87 marked as uncier a European monarchy. Yet amid the sickening bravado of vaunting vice, the pride of proficiency, the boast of superior skill, would come contemptuous allu- sions to the past, when they were " green," in tones that betrayed the existence of a feeling they would blush, to own, even to themselves. Grey was received with a boisterous welcome, and in- quiries on all sides as to what he had done. They de- manded of him his ticket of admission, and desired to know what recommendations he brought with him to entitle him to recognition in such society. " Ha ! my tulip," said one who was evidently looked up to by the rest as the leading spirit, " what have you been about ? What did you touch ?" " Nothing, so help me heaven," he replied, earnestly ; for he could not bear that even these, from whose com- panionship he involuntarily shrank, should deem him guilty. A burst of derisive laughter" announced their incredidity. " Good ! Good ! That's it ! Go in ! You'll do, old feller ;" and similar phrases greeted him on every side. "Well, you are a cunning shaver that's a fact to come to your time of day without being fetched," exclaimed another, in tones of unfeigned admiration. " How did you get jugged? for taking a loan eh? What's the amount ?" 88 A WOKLD WITHIN THE WORLD. " Not a cent of any man's money that I did not honestly earn," was the indignant reply. " More fool you," said his questioner, turning on his heel in unmistakeable contempt" you might as well have the gain as the name." " The first time I was in one of these establishments," said another, "about let me see I was just eighteen then about forty years ago, I acted persactly like him." " You did ? Well 1" exclaimed several. " But what was you up for ?" inquired one " Only a trifle some little matter in Pearl street just beginning, you know twenty dollars and what do you think the mean cuss prosecuted, although he got every red back. Only for him I might have been in the Common Council ; but that spoiled my character people are so narrow-minded." This sally of wit was greeted with a round of applause, and peals of uproarious laughter. " Was that your first go, Bill ?" asked % precocious youth of fifteen. " No sirree nor my second ; but that was the first time I ever laid my peepers on Dick Lightfinger. You all know Dick. Well, he was a-settin right opposite me, and cryin like a blubberin' baby. He was persactly eight years younger than me, so I went over and talked to him." " Ten years old ! Well, I'll be blowed ! but that was a ERNEST GREY. 89 smart feller, and no mistake," interposed one of the eager listeners. " No wonder he's so advanced in his purfessiou. Ten years old !" " Smart feller ! Don't you believe it. He hadn't touched anything, I tell you. He was uo smarter than any body else ; but he had advantages. Smart feller, indeed I Very well ; who gave him his education eh ? I did ; that night made a man of him." " But how did he get pulled, Bill ?" " Well, you see how it was, was this ;" and he proceeded to tell how Dick, then a promising school-boy, returning home, saw two men fighting ; how one^of them was taken by a policeman, to whom Dick gave a clear account of what had passed ; how he was put in prison as a witness, and thus thrown in the way of one who was already familiar with crime. The acquaintance there formed was continued, and resulted in the pupil surpassing his instructor in inge- nuity, if not in wickedness. To Ernestf Grey there was a horrible fascination in the story of the innocent boy thus unconsciously innoculated with crime, and as the hoary ruffian concluded by saying, with a chuckle " Ever since, when Fm hard up for green hands, I get in here, and take my pick and choice out of the recruits the law purwides for me" he thought of his own child, his pretty, willful Steve, and groaned aloud. But his interest had been painfully excited, and he listened r 90 A WORLD WITHIN THE WORLD. intently to the stories passing around. They were generally of daring robberies, or hair-breadth escapes, related with coarse humor and strong dramatic power ; and when, by these means, he found his sympathies enlisted on the side of a desperate burglar, or fugitive thief, he knew better how to estimate the strength of that temptation which had been so fatal to Dick Lightfinger. " Say, Bob !" roared a stentorian voice from the oppo- site side of the room " What happened to that ere soft un yon brought last- year ? What a precious soft tfn he was the white-livered dog !" " Come, old feller ! play light there," cried Bob, "white- livered he was not I know he was squeamish about blood- lettin', that's all. That was his weakness, and I'd bet five dollars to a cent he's grown out of it by this time, for he went to California after that." " Well, you may say what you like, but he was a sneak, and I had a kind o' doubt of him from the first." " D n your doubts who cares for you ? I say he was neither a sneak nor a coward ; and I won't stand and hear him run down mind that. I'd a d d sight sooner have him with me in a fight than you, any day though you do think yourself some." " How easy riled you are," said the other, apologetically " what did he ever do for you ?" " Only saved my life, but that's nothinV ERNEST GREY. 91 He did eh ! Ho\v was that ?" " Well, it was the very night after that affair in Four- teenth street. I was walking down Leonard." " What about Fourteenth street ?" inquired several " that conies first." " D n it ! why don't you let a feller finish what he's savin', and not be interruptin' him all the time. I shan't say another word to-night." He was entreated on all sides to finish his story, but entreaties were useless for the rest of the night he was sullenly silent. However, professional anecdotes were plenty, each one surpassing the other in excitement. In the middle of one of these stories, when the interest was at its height, and the attention of the listeners most profound, the sound of heavy hammers inside the prison walls made them pause. Again and again they heard it, stroke fol- lowing stroke in quick succession. "They are tolling poor Slype's death-bell," remarked one, with a callous laugh. "The funeral procession will start to-morrow at one o'clock ; and I move that, in ordei to testify our respect for the deceased, we all attend." " Do you think he'll die game ?" asked another. " Oh, yes ! he'll stand up to the rack."^ " I don't believe it he'll show the white feather. He ain't got the pluck, I tell yer." " I'll bet a V he'll die worthy of the purfession." 92 AN EXECUTION. " Done ! we'll see before tins time to-morrow." The next morning there was great excitement among the prisoners, which increased as the hour of execution drew near. Outside, the excitement was still greater ; from an early hour the prison gates were besieged by anxious crowds, eager to obtain admittance ; and every street lead- ing to the prison was thronged with persons, who deemed it a privilege even to gaze upon the building within whose walls the dread tragedy was to be enacted. All the house- tops in the immediate neighborhood were crowded with spectators, among whom were men who would stigmatize the Spaniards as barbarians for patronizing bull-fights, and women who would sicken at the sight of blood, and shudder at a tale of terror. Every available spot within the prison-yard was filled long before the appointed time, and as the hour approached, the eager spectators testified, by their frequent reference to their watches, their impatience at the delay. " Why, I thought it was to come off at one o'clock," said one, both disgusted and indignant at the tardiness of the officials. " Well, you see," replied his friend, " these things can't be done up in a hurry." " Was you at the jerkin' of Black Tom ?" inquired the first speaker. ERNEST GREY. 93 " No ; but I'm told it was as handsome a sight 5s you'd wish to see." " Handsome ! I tell yer it was beautiful. I never see'd a feller as died so beautiful, and that's sayin' a great deal, for I've seen a good many strung up in my day. You know, Jake, I always was an amatoor in such things." " Ah, yes, that's a fact, Jim ;" said his companion, ad- miringly. In the cell where Ernest Grey was confined, the prisoners were busy making their preparations for the spectacle. The apertures, which served them for the purposes of light and ventilation, were not sufficiently large to give them a view of what was passing below, but their ingenuity soon overcame this obstacle. " Say, Bob, you was always a fancy man some on the putty don't you think you could raise a glass now, till we get a peep at the show ? You hain't eh ! "Well, have you got one, my beauty?" he again inquired, addressing the most repulsive looking man in the room. " Look out for your own handsome mug, you sniggering cub, you, or I'll spoil your beauty," exclaimed the other, fiercely, irritated at the general laugh against him. " Come, simmer down !" said Bill, authoritatively " Simmer down, I say we don't want any fighting among friends. Can't you raise a looking-glass among you ? and I'll tell what's going on." 94 AN EXECUTION. A pocket-glass was soon procured, and after it was taken from its case, fitted into the end of a stick which was split for the purpose. It was then held out of the opening, in such a manner as to reflect the scene below. " I'd rather than a ten I was outside," said Bill ; " there's considerable prigging to be done now. What a chance we've lost. Ha ! Slype has made his first appearance on the stage," he shouted, in wild excitement, almost dropping the stick from his grasp. " Don't he look game, though." " Let us see let us see !" they cried in chorus, each eagerly clutching at the stick. "Hold up there ! D n it, what are you about I've nearly lost it already with you, and if it's gone, our sport's spoiled. The first man that does that again I'll throw it among the crowd." This threat had the desired effect the mutiny was sup- pressed, and Bill left in undisturbed possession. " What are they doing now ?" inquired one of the pris- oners, with horrid interest. "Praying," replied Bill, turning up the whites of his eyes. ".After praying a bit they'll run him up and give him a dance from the tight rope," added Bill, laughing at the coarse joke he had perpetrated. An indistinct murmuring sound penetrated the walls of the prison as the rope was severed, and the wretched man struggled in the agonies of death. ERNEST GREY. 95 " Slype s a goner !" exclaimed several, all at once. " Well, there's no help for spilk-d milk," said Bill ; " it's his turn to-day, and it may be ours to-morrow. After all, what is it but a jump in the dark. Twenty years ago Slype and me began our pnrfession under the scaffold the very day that Nicksey was run up. Lord ! what a smart feller he was. He wriggled his way through the crowd, like an eel through the mud. He was a good feller 'too, and his heart was as big as a bull's, and even when he was going he wanted to help his friends. And now here I am boxed up regularly queyed, and can't take advantage of it, while many a feller, that didn't care a cent about Slype, is doin' a smnshin' business out there on my capital." " There they go," said another, as the heavy tramp of the Retiring crowd was heard. "I suppose he's quiet enough now, for they wouldn't move while there was a kick in him." " If there ain't a kick in him, there's a kick in his gallop," remarked another, with a brutal laugh. Half an hour later the body was cut down and laid in a rough pine coffin ; and the crowd, which had been gradu- ally dispersing from the moment all signs of life had ceased, completely deserted the prison-yard. In and around the prison everything went on as before ; but on the street- corners boys were rehearsing the revolting tragedy, and iu the groggeries and saloons it formed the all-absorbing topic 96 AN EXECUTION. of conversation. For weeks after the fearful brute, cour- age and stoicism, with which he met his death, were the theme of unbounded eulogy among those who regarded such qualities as the only proofs of true heroism, in their admiration of these, all recollection of the crime for which he suffered was forgotten. CHAPTER XI. DISAPPOINTMENTS OUGHT TO BE CONTENT. EVERY day Lizzy Roberts' affection and admiration for Margaret increased, and she felt thankful for the chance that had thrown such a friend in her path, particularly at a time when the loss of Ernest Grey's family made her feel more lonely and desolate than ever. It was so different from sitting alone it was so pleasant to hear the sound of a human voice, although it discoursed of no higher themes than the mystery of shirt-making, or the comparative merits of rival establishments. But their conversation was not confined to these vital matters, for Margaret had read much, and she was pleased to share her knowledge with Lizzy, to repeat to her passages from favorite authors, and tell her all she knew. Ernest Grey's fate, however, was of deeper interest to both, and engaged more of their atten- tion, than all other subjects combined. " Why wouldn't you call to the prison to see him," said Margaret, in the course of one of these conversations, " and learn from him where his wife is ? Of course he knows." 98 DISAPPOINTMENTS. " Oh ! how glad I am you thought of that," cried Lizzy, delighted at the idea of finding Steve and his mother ; " that's the very thing I ought to do." The next day Lizzy went to the prison, impatient to receive tidings of her friend, and angry with herself for not having thought of such a feasible plan before. But alas for human hopes ! she was doomed to a cruel disappoint- ment : as she was not a relative of the prisoner, she would not be permitted to see or converse with him, and so she was obliged to relinquish the pleasing hope of finding Mrs. Grey. " I wouldn't give up so easily," said Margaret, when she had heard all ; "I would wait about the prison during the uours set apart for the prisoners' friends to visit them, and you'd be sure to see Mrs. Grey." Lizzy caught eagerly at the suggestion, and for three days consecutively she waited at the prison doors, from twelve o'clock till three. But no Mrs, Grey appeared, and the third day she returned utterly discouraged. " Tell me, Liz do you ever feel discontented ?" said Margaret, laying down her work and looking scrutinizingly into her face. " I'm afraid I do very often, Margaret, when I let my thoughts stray to the past or the future." " ' We look before and after, And pine for what is not,' " ERNEST GREY. 99 said Margaret, quietly "How very true. It is not in human nature to be contented. We were never made to be contented on this earth. The 'most perfect Christian longs for the future, and sighs over the past. Do you think you ought to be contented ?" " I don't understand you, Margaret. Do yon mean, ought I to be contented with my lot, or ought I to be contented with myself, and I so imperfect ?" " Pshaw 1 I mean nothing of the kind you are quite perfect enough for me. But do you think you ought to be contented with your lot ?" The puzzled expression on Lizzy's face was gone in a moment, and she answered in all sincerity " Why, of course I ought." " Ah^Liz, Liz," said Margaret, shaking her head ; " if I were like you I might be happier, but that can never be. I cannot take things as they are, without asking the why and the wherefore two questions that might sober Demo- critus himself. Do you think- Providence ever intended you to sit and sew eighteen hours out of the twenty-four ?" " Certainly, or I would not have it to do." " What ! Liz you believe that yon were born to stitch so many yards, make so many button holes, run so many shirt bosoms, and for no higher purpose ?'' " Oh ! Margaret, no I did not say so," said Lizzy, quickly " I know that all of us, no matter what our occu- 100 OUGHT TO BE CONTENT. pation here, have to look beyond this earth that is but the passage way." " Yes ; and how many go through it without one thought of where it leads to, only intent on picking up the worthless pebbles scattered along the route. But to return what were you thinking about when I spoke first ? Own up, Liz." " You will think little of me," she replied ; "I was thinking I might get these collars done to-night if I worked steady,' and that would be so much on my book." " You groveling Liz ! I knew it ; and still you cry we ought to be content with a state of things which forces us to make gain our first consideration. Now, you have lived in the country you know what we poor girls are deprived of that live up in attics, or down in basements, or behind-back in rear houses, ' curtained from the sight of the gross world.' How can you, even in thought, make Provi- dence responsible for all this wrong ! Don't look aghast, Liz. You can't deny it ' ought to be content' means that, or it means nothing. If it is not the work or the will of Providence, why ought I to be contented with it ?" " Margaret, you talk so wild," said Lizzy, in a tone of gentle reproach ; " it was but this morning I heard you say, ' whatever is, is right.' " " Oh that abused, misused quotation ! have I, too, sinned against it ?" exclaimed Margaret, between jest and ERNEST GREY. 101 earnest. " But, Liz, it is treacherous and ungenerous to turn my own weapons against me." " Margaret," said Lizzy, suddenly, " I'm afraid you are a hypocrite." " I ?" said Margaret, reddening. " What is hypocrisy ?" asked Liz. " Appearing in a false character." " Then you are a sad hypocrite, beyond a doubt. You have such an ambition 'to appear worse than you are, and I think that is the worst kind of hypocrisy, dear Margaret, for it looks as if you were ashamed of being good. You mustn't take offence at what I've been saying : I wouldn't have said it, only I know you are not easily miffed." " And if I were easily miffed," said Margaret, " and if I packed up my things and left, would you not say ' whatever is, is right ?' " " You know I would not." "Then what becomes of your ' ought to be content,' Liz ?" "I'm afraid, Margaret, I'd forget all about it then. Hush ! I think my mother is awake." " No ; she's sleeping soundly." " How I wish she had a soft bed she lays so constantly that I wouldn't wonder if the slats cut her sides. Ah ! Margaret, when I look at this miserable place, and think of her and of what money would do " 102 OUGHT TO BE CONTENT. She stopped abruptly, a large round tear fell upon the linen, but in a few moments she continued with forced cheerfulness " I know it is sinful to be repining, when the worst is so much better than we deserve ; and when we see how many are worse off than we are, we ought to be contented." " That argument always strikes me as the most selfish that could be given," said Margaret, warmly ; "I hate to hear it : it is the very essence of selfishness. As if I said ' thank God ! if I am poor others are poorer. If I am sick others are dying.' If there were a common brotherhood among us, that would be only an aggravation of our suf- fering. Does it comfort me, Liz, to think, while I sit wearing my eyes out here in this garret, that there are thousands of young girls in this city no better off than I thousands who for weeks never see the sun rise, though up before him thousands whose only thought of the moon- light and starlight is that they are not bright enough to work by who know nothing of the seasons but by the change in the weather, and who cannot take time to look at that patch of blue above their loophole of a window, even if the stateliest cloud was sailing by. Does that com- fort me any ? Does it prove that I ought to be contented with a state of things that God never ordained, never sanc- tioned, and barely endures ? No, Liz ; when I want to school my heart to bear, it is not the Hall of Eblis, but ERNEST GREY. 103 the Happy Yalley I look upon, and I think if the world is a desert to me, it is an oasis to others if I am favored but once a year with a broken ' hint that nature lives,' tens of thousands hear it in her own sweet voice, or read it in her glowing face." " How selfish you must think me, Margaret," said Lizzy, with an appealing look and deprecating tone that no one could resist, her soft blue eyes swimming in tears " how very selfish. And, indeed, I think I must be, for yester- day, when the sun shone for a moment into the window, I thought of the country, until I fancied I heard the rustling of the corn, and got the scent of the apple-blossoms ; and, oh Margaret ! when I recollected where I was, I felt so bad, until I looked at you sewing so steady, and at mother laying so still." " And that contented you, Liz." " It made me more contented and more discontented at the same time. You understand me." " Yes, I think I do," replied Margaret ; and both re- lapsed into silence. It was a clear, frosty day, the air cold and bracing, and the merry jingle of the sleigh-bells was distinctly audible. Perhaps they heard it perhaps they did not ; but they sewed on the same. The din and tumult ascended, mel- lowed into a murmur ; the full, rich tones of military music, sinking and swelling like the waves of ocean, swept past, a 104 OUGHT TO BE CONTENT. perfect spring-tide of harmony ; but they heeded it not stitch followed stitch, tnough the tips of those restless fingers were blue with the cold, until the needles dropped from their powerless grasp. Outside, what a busy world it was and gay as it was busy. Men sublimely indifferent to Eternity, but frantic at the loss of one moment of Time, stood watching their oppor- tunity to pass the crowded thoroughfares ; others skilled in street tactics darted across in face of every obstacle, and gained the curb-stone with an exulting bound, or worked their way through lumbering carts and stranded omnibus, and passed the Rubicon by a circuitous route. Ladies, in rich dresses and costly furs, passed and repassed, or flut- tered around some tempting store, like moths around a candle, gay equipages dashed along the crowded streets ; eleighs of exquisite symmetry, shaped like sea-shells, in whose depths Amphitrite might have reclined, glided by, silent as a dream, but for the tinkling of the tell-tale bells. Crowds of men hurried from place to place, as if moved by some irresistible impulse, or actuated by a common purpose ; and others, whose uselessness was' their passport to distinc- tion, sauntered up and down. Virtuous Poverty slunk behind backs, well-bred Yice stalked boldly forth, chal- lenging observation, and the world, with all its complicated machinery, moved on. " How lonely the house seems without Steve," said Lizzy, ERNEST GREY. 105 breaking the long silence. " Pool little fellow ! I would give a dollar, if I had it, to know where he and his mother are now. How you would have loved that woman, Mar- garet." "I feel sure of that. How long is it since she left this ?" " Five weeks immediately after her husband was ac- cused. Her hard-hearted landlord had an officer to put her out, and there was no one to offer her a shelter. Oh if I had been at home ! or if mother had been able to think or act. She called two days after, and told mother where she lived, but she forgot the name of the street, and could only remember that it was number seventeen." " Strange she never called again," said Margaret ; " and Steve so much attached to you. Perhaps she is ill." " God forbid !" exclaimed Lizzy, fervently. " What would become of her, and no one to mind her ? You don't think so, Margaret ?" " Indeed, I fear it. She would certainly have called again, if possible, for she could not suspect you of unkind- ness, and she knew your mother's condition too well to expect her to remember anything correctly. I think she must be ill." Lizzy Roberts hid her face in her hands, but the low smothered sob would be heard, and told what the clasped hands endeavored to hide. 106, OUGHT TO BE CONTENT. " Oh ! Margaret," she exclaimed, looking up, and dash- ing the tears away ; " what a horriWe thing it is to be poor. Poverty must be wrong some way, for it makes one selfish. My first thought was to find out Mrs. Grey, and if she was sick to sit up with her, and mind her night and day ; but then my work, my work how is it to be done ?" " Aye, Liz one glance at these yards of ghastly white, paralyzes many a generous feeling." "Yes, that it does," said Lizzy. "I have wept more tears in one day for the change poverty has made in my temper and disposition, than for everything else put to- gether." " You and I, Liz, are not very old," said Margaret, sud- denly, "nor very old-fashioned. Can you tell me, then, why we are tempted hi the old style ?" " What do you mean, Margaret ?" said Lizzy, aston- ished. " I have read somewhere," she replied, " that ' The devil now is wiser than of yore, He tempts by making rich, not making poor.' But, like every other new fashion, it takes some time before it descends to the poor. Dear me ! dear me ! how I would like to be tempted in that way. Temptations every day, in the shape of golden dollars eh, Liz. Then you could hunt up Mrs. Grey and Steve, in place of hunting up work." ERNEST GREY. 107 "And that reminds me," said Liz, rising, "of my ap- pointment with Miss Mason 'tis time to go." " Wasn't she in Sharpe's ?" " Yes, and always treated me kindly. She wanted me then to go out and sew, but I couldn't leave mother by herself. What did she say to you, Margaret ?" " She didn't say what she wanted, but I am sure, from her manner, that it will be something to your advantage. Probably to go out to sew, which you can readily, for I will attend to your mother. Come here," she said, as Lizzy was going out, " your hat is all jammed let me fix it." " You are better than a looking-glass, Margaret." " I know it. Now hurry back, for I am all impatience to hear the .news. I have a great mind," she said, follow- ing Lizzy to the entry, " to throw my old slipper after you for luck." " Yes, do," said Lizzy, laughing ; and the old slipper came clattering down the stairs CHAPTER XII. ACQUITTAL OF ERNEST GREY INTERVIEW WITH LIZZY ROBERTS SEARCH FOR HIS WIFE AND CHILD. AFTER remaining" in prison two or three weeks, Ernest Grey was brought to trial and acquitted, the evidence being insufficient to convict. He was free once more, and mixing with the crowd, but he felt that the brand was on his brow, that he was looked upon as a moral leper, that he was known to the police as a suspicious person, that those who knew him would shun him, that his chances of earning an honest livelihood were lessened, if not utterly destroyed. This he knew, but all appeared insignificant and worth- less, in comparison with the fate of his wife and child. Where was Jane ? What kept her away for the last three days ? What could keep her away, at such a time, from him ? Was Steve alive or dead ? As these thoughts flashed across his mind, he quickened his pace to a run, and dashed through the streets, unconscious of the atten- ERNEST GREY. 109 tion he excited. He soon reached the miserable dwelling which he last called home, forgetting, in the one absorbing idea, all that had occurred since he left it. With a bound f he was up the stairs eagerly and tremblingly he turned the handle of the door it was locked ! He looked through the key-hole no familiar form met his eye. He listened no sound of life reached his ears. All was still as the grave. He shivered from head to foot, and clung to the balusters for support : the vague fear that had haunted him for the last few days now assumed a definite shape. His wife was dead, or his child perhaps both. As if petrified, he stood immovable, his dry eyes glitter- ing, and his face ghastly pale. Then a flood of softer memories rolled over his soul, and as he thought of his prattling boy, and the uncomplaining, womanly fortitude of his gentle wife, his eye grew moist, and his lip quivered with emotion. What had become of them ? Where had they died and how ? A blast of wind swept through the empty room, sound- ing like a.wail, and the floor creaked as if some one passed over it. Dropping on his kness, he gazed again through the key-hole : in vain ; he could see the long pendant cobwebs wave to and fro he could see the rays of the wintry sun upon the floor he could see the broken shutters swing lazily back and forth but that was all. No living thing could be seen in that deserted room. 110 INTERVIEW WITH LIZZY ROBERTS. "Jane ! Jane !" he cried, in the wild hope of getting an answer, " open the door it's only me. ^ Steve ! why, it is your father, boy." No answer, save the sigh of the wind. Rising slowly, and suppressing every sign of emotion by a violent effort, he ascended to the attic room occupied by Lizzy Roberts and her mother. Lizzy was at her usual employment, and looked paler and thinner than ever. She had suffered a great deal since the morning she procured work for Mrs. Grey. The dozen collars had been lost in the confusion, and in consequence Lizzy Roberts was not only discharged, but the price of them deducted from the little due to her. She got work next day in another store, but as she went to seek for it, and not in answer to an advertisement, she was obliged to do it for less than the usual price, and even then it was given as a kind of compliment. To make up for this reduc- tion was impossible ; she could not work more incessantly than she had done, and she could not work so quickly, for her situation became every day more hopeless, and she was growing listless and discouraged. Grey entered without knocking, and coming close to the astonished girl, asked her where was Jane. " Oh, Mr. Grey ! how glad I am to see you," she said, joyfully, springing from her seat and clasping both his hands in her's. EENEST GREY. Ill " Where are they, Lizzy ? my wife and child," he said, impatiently. " Oh, how I wish I knew. But when I was to the store with work, Short put the things on the sidewalk, and Jane and Steve went away and never came back." " And you never tried to make them out !" he exclaimed, bitterly. " Oh, no ! you wouldn't be seen with the wife of a common thief. And yet you were friends 1" " Indeed, I did, often and often try, but not so much as I would like to, for I should do my work." " Yes ! yes ! I know work or die that's the way with the poor. Let them talk as they will, and preach as they will, about poverty I tell you, Lizzy Roberts, it is both a curse and a crime. Did not poverty make a thief of me in the eyes of the world ? If I was a rich man, who would dare to suspect me ?" " Oh, do not call yourself a thief." " Why not ? Have I not been suspected as a thief, tried as a thief, imprisoned as a thief everything but con- victed as a "thief, and acquitted, not because they thought the innocent, but because they could not prove me guilty. Did I not read it in their eyes Judge, jury, spectators not a man there, but would be willing to stake his salvation on my guilt. But they were conscientious men, and upright jurors they went only by the evidence, and so they flung 112 INTERVIEW WITH LIZZY ROBERTS. me on the world an unconvicted felon. Curse them may they " "Stop, Mr. Grey do not curse them they did but their duty." " Their duty !" he repeated, scornfully. " Listen to me not one of the twelve men who acquitted me not the judge who discharged me, and let me loose upon the com- munity, would trust me to-morrow would give me the meanest employment would suffer me inside their doors. No, not if I brought their own very verdict as a recom- mendation, and, by Heaven, I'll do it. They cannot call me thief." He was dreadfully excited, and paced up and down the room with a rapid, heavy tread, that shook the crazy timbers of the floor, and awakened the old woman from an unrefreshing slumber. To Lizzy's enquiry if she wanted a drink, she replied, in a rambling way, that the less she wanted the better that no one cared about her now and that it was well Lizzy could afford to be idling. " Sorrow makes us selfish," he said, abruptly ; " I never thought of your mother, nor your work. But one word* more how did Jane bear the disgrace ?" " Do not say digrace," pleaded Lizzy ; " there can be no disgrace where there is no crime." An expression of almost sublime joy irradiated Ernest ERNEST GREY. 113 Grey's sallow features for an instant, and he said, in a voice that he vainly endeavored to make firm " You did not believe me guilty ?" " Not for a moment." " I thank you from my soul I thank you, Lizzy Roberts. I feel like a human being again. God bless you. If I find them you shall see me soon." Brushing his hand across his eyes to remove all traces of emotion, he was gone, ere she had time to question him about his plans and prospects. Once again in the inhospitable streets, Ernest Grey heeded not the threatening sky above, nor the frozen earth below. Shunning the crowded business streets, he turned into the narrow alleys and gloomy lanes sacred to the poor. He descended into miserable, unhealthy basements ; he clambered up to mouldering foetid garrets, and groped his way through wretched, sunless rear-houses. Through all the comfortless abodes through all the dreary haunts where poverty and misery, driven by dire necessity, are compelled to herd with vice through that tainted, moral atmosphere where innocence dies, and youth is corrupted a fountain poisoned at its source he passed, without- find- ing the objects of his search. He feared not for Jane, for well he knew that Virtue is a hardy plant, and can derive strength and sustenance from food that innocence could not touch and live. But as he thought of Steve, flung by 114 SEARCH FOR HIS WIFE AND CHILD. untoward circumstances face to face with Vice, forced to gaze on its odious, repulsive features until familiarity ren- dered them endurable, and then He was faint with hunger and fatigue, but this train of thought gave him strength, and he hastened on. The night was falling, and the cold wind, cutting as a sword, swept through the dilapidated streets doors creaked, and shutters flapped shivering children, without one spark of childish playfulness, passed from house to house, and groups of abandoned women, and moody, reckless men, were gath- ered at door-stoops or on the corners. Here were the shadows of New York life this was the back-ground of that gorgeous picture. Furtively Ernest Grey glanced at each child he passed, but none were like his Steve, and a sigh of relief spoke his thankfulness more eloquently than words. For hours he continued his search, elbowing his way through every crowd, pausing near excited groups to catch the subject of their discourse, or asking little children if they knew any boy called Steve. At last, exhausted nature yielded, and seeking shelter in an open door-way, he slept for hours. The next day he renewed the search, and the next, with like result, and the evening of the third day found him utterly hopeless and nerveless. With eyes cast down, he moved listlessly forward in what direction he knew not ERNEST GREY. - 115 so pre-occupied, that he was among a crowd of women and children ere he was aware. " Poor little fellow 1" said one woman, compassionately, " his mother is very sick, and he has no father." " Yes I have," said the child, quickly ; " but I can't find him." Ernest Grey started as if electrified. There was no mistaking that childish voice ; and in the npxt moment Stephen was pressed to his father's heart, with an energy that confused and frightened him. CHAPTER XIII. THE WASHERWOMAN A FRIEND IN NEED HOPES AND FEARS. THE morning that Mrs. Grey's miserable substitute for furniture was placed in the street by order of the landlord, Mrs. Fitzgerald, an old acquaintance, hearing of her trouble, came to see her. She was a poor washerwoman very poor, but kind withal ; and she proposed that Jane should give up the room she occupied, and live with her. This would save the expense of rent and fuel, and if Jane felt able to assist her in washing, she was to have her share of the money thus earned. Never was kindness better timed, and never was grati- tude more heartfelt. The offer was accepted in the same spirit in which it was made, and taking Stephen with her, she set out with Mrs. Fitzgerald for her humble abode, intending to leave him there and return for her furni- ture. But when she did return, the room was empty, and on applying to Short, she was abused for her impudence in looking for her worthless rubbish, while she was in arrears ERNEST GREY. 117 for rent. Knowing that it was useless to reason or plead with him, she turned away in silence, thankful that all were not equally hard-hearted. Lizzy Roberts was at the store with work, and Mrs. Grey was too anxious to await her return ; so leaving word for her, she hastened to her new home, determined to make up for want of strength and practice by untiring industry. Who can tell the kindness of the poor to the poor ? What pen can do justice to their ready sympathy ? Re- member that charity in them is not simply kind it is heroic. What they give isnot out of their abundance, but emphatically out of their own mouths. Luxuries they know not superfluities they never had ; but what they cannot relieve they can feel for when they cannot succor, they can sympathize. Nothing could exceed the kindness of Mrs. Fitzgerald to her afflicted friend. With the delicacy of true feeling she made it appear that Mrs. Grey's assistance was invaluable to her, and that but for it she could not retain her best customers. At every opportunity, when Jane was attend- ing to her child, or visiting her husband, the simple, kind- hearted washerwoman was working away at her laborious occupation. It was a pleasant thing to see her homely face, bright with the consciousness of doing a kind action, glowing through the misty, reeking atmosphere of steaming 118 HOPES AND FEARS. soap-suds that enveloped her. And still more pleasant was it when Jane returned to listen to her transparent attempts to deceive, and her boasting wonder at the amount of work she had got through during her absence. As the day of trial approached-, Jane's restlessness be- came more uncontrollable. She could not sleep by night or day ; she could not work, yet idleness was irksome to her ; she could not rest, yet motion brought no relief. "When deep sleep falleth upon men," her thoughts, like wandering ghosts, were flitting round that dreary pile, whose sepulchral name tells eloquently of buried hopes and ruined reputations, Often during the night had she heard the judge's charge, or listened in breathless eagerness to catch the verdict of the jury ; but ever as she listened, the sound died away, and with a start she awoke from her momentary slumber. Sometimes the officials and legal functionaries were hidden from view ; but the prisoner at the bar stood out in bold relief, and in the back-ground was a mass of spectators, gazing at him as they would at some fierce animal on exhibition. She felt that in that crowd of fellow- creatures there was no sympathy for him, and shuddering, she turned to read her fate in the features of the prisoner. One look was enough the concentrated, intense attention the head bent forward, as if to catch the faintest sound the short, quick breathing that alone denoted the inward fluttering of the spirit, vanished as she gazed a mortal ERNEST GREY. 119 pallor overspread cheek, brow and lip he shivered as if the icy hand of death had touched him, and from the deep- ening gloom that shrouded the court a shadowy hand pro- jected, on which was traced the fatal word, " Guilty." Such slumbers could not be refreshing, and day by day Jane looked more wretched and ghastly. Yet during the short visits she was allowed to make to her husband, she did her utmost to appear cheerful, in order to calm the anguish of his mind, and for the same purpose she concealed from him the conduct of Short and her change of abode. If the trial ended favorably, he would be better able to bear it, if unfavorably, then he would be spared another pang. So she reasoned. CHAPTER XIV. MORE TRIALS AND TROUBLES THE SEPARATION. WHEN Mrs. Grey returned from her last visit to the Tombs, she found her friend busily engaged in packing up her clothes, and trying, at the same time, to cheer Steve, who was crying bitterly. " Why, what's the matter ?" said Jane ; " has anything happened while I was away ? What are you crying for, Steve ?" " She's going away," he sobbed, less in sorrow than hi anger, " and she ought to be ashamed." " Hush ! Steve, hush !" said the mother, as if anxious only to suppress this exhibition of feeling in her child. Poor Mrs. Grey ! what sad news it was to her. Her voice faltered she could only repeat " Going away ?" "Yes, but not for long," said Mrs. Fitzgerald "only for a week or ten days. One of the Prices is bad with the fever, and as I ain't afeer'd of it, they want me to mind her. You know they have been very kind to me so I couldn't refuse them. I'm rale sorry about it, for you and ERNEST GREY. 121 Steve will be so lonesome here by yourselves, and the worst is that I can't come and see you, for fear I'd bring the infection. And the trial will come 011 in a few days, and you'll be fretting yourself to death I know you will, and you'll have nobody to be with you. I'm sure I don't know what to do. I have a great mind to hunt up Lizzy Ro- berts before I go, and bring her over here. Wouldn't you like to see her ?" " Like ! yes, that I would, but I won't send for her." ' Yes, do !" exclaimed Steve " do send for Lizzy. You bring her, Mrs. Fitzgerald won't you ? and I'll not cry any more. I want to see my Lizzy Roberts, and you must bring her." " Do you think she wouldn't come ?" inquired Mrs. Fitz- gerald. " I know she would, on the moment, and she would have been here long ago, had she been told where I was ; but, poor thing, she works so hard for a trifle that I couldn't bear to take a minute of her time. Then she has her poor sick mother to attend to. Oh, I couldn't think of her wasting a minute with me." " I'll go and tell her where you live, any way. Maybe she passes the house every day with her work, and if she only dropped in for a moment, wouldn't it be a comfort for you to PPO her ? I'll run this very minute, before I do 122 THE SEPARATION. another thing." And flinging aside her clothes, she pro- pared to set out. " Finish what yon are doing," said Jane, " and I mil call to Lizzy to-morrow. I think it would be better." " Very well, just as you like ; but will you be sure to call to-morrow you promise ?" " Yes, I promise ; and now let me help you to get ready. Afterwards you can tell me what I'm to do while you are away." " Call for the clothes on Monday, the same as ever, and don't say a word about me. Bishop's, and Wright's and Henry's, will be as much as you can do. I'll settle about the other places." " Where are the shirts and fine things to be left ?" " Bless you, I left them home while you were away, and got this" putting two dollars into Jane's hand. " That's all your own earning." " I can't take it, Mrs. Fitzgerald- indeed, I can't," said Jane, earnestly. " I did'nt earn one half of it." " I know bettor," was the positive answer. " There is a dozen of shirts to be left in Barclay street," she continued, in a hurried tone, as if anxipus to get away from the sub- ject. "Two of them are not ironed yet, and these five dresses belong to Mrs. Smith. You'll be paid in both places ; and mind, you make yourself comfortable. Don't Iny out any money for soap, or starch, or coal, or anything ERNEST GREY. 123 for the washing. I spoke to the grocery man at the corner, and you can get them on credit. Now you are crying and and I'll be back with a pocket-full of money." " Will you ?" said Steve, joyfully, clapping his hands. " Then you must buy a coat for my father, and shoes too, and a cloak for mother, and something for Lizzy Roberts won't you ? A whole pocket-full of money ! Oh ! won't I get a ball, and a top, and a kite 1" he exclaimed, with childish glee, prancing about his mother, all his little sor- rows forgotten in that moment. After arranging with thoughtful kindness for the comfort of Jane and her child, the poor washerwoman, with a mind divided between pleasure for the prospective profit, and pain for those she was leaving, set out to undertake her new duties. Never did Jane feel so lonely as that evening the room looked more dreary and desolate than it was wont to do the moaning east wind sighed through the broken window-panes and crazy door, and the dim light of the solitary lamp made it still more dreary and desolate. For many an hour after Steve fell asleep, she sat buried in thought, her head resting on her hands, and the silent tears falling unheeded ; and when, at length, worn out with grief, she sought repose, her dreams were but the exaggerated images of her waking thoughts, and she arose, wearied and unrefreshed. 124 THE SEPARATION. There was a great deal of work to be done, and the necessity for exertion giving strength, as it generally does, she set about it, intending to leave the shirts home before making her daily visit to the prison. The snowy, crumpled linen, by the joint agency of moisture and heat, became, under her hands, stiff, smooth and glossy, and the loose morning-dresses rustled like silk. It is no trifling tiling to fold a shirt in proper style, to reveal all that should be revealed, and not one particle more to display the entire length of the bosom, from the collar to its junction with the less filmy, but more substantial fabric of which the main body is composed not to take one iota off the ample expanse of plaits that extend on each side of the central band, sometimes divided equally with rigorous imparti- ality, and sometimes a crowd of little ones hemmed in between Lilliputian giants, real tritons among minnows. Without bestowing a passing thought upon them, Mrs. Grey foldedand placed them in the basket, and telling Steve not to go out, and giving him a thousand cautions about the fire, hurried off. She was disappointed in both places, for under some frivolous pretext or other, no money was forthcoming. She did not mind it much, however, for the two dollars Mrs. Fitzgerald left were a mine of wealth to her. CHAPTER XV. THE FROZEN STEPS AN ACCIDENT THE CHILD'S RESOLVE. As Mrs. Grey passed the City Hall, she was startled to find that the time appointed to see the prisoners had almost expired, and being compelled to postpone her visit to the following day, she proceeded towards her home, as fast as the slippery state of the pavements would permit. Encum- bered by her large clothes-basket, she was more than once on the point of falling, to the undisguised delight of several young urchins, who had leagued with the frost to render the streets impassible. Steve, in the meantime, sat watch- ing the boys from the basement window, with the greatest interest, as they followed each other, in quick succession, on the glassied slide. Oil they went, "regular as rolling water," their arms extended on either side as a balancing power, and their breath steaming in the frosty air. But nothing delighted him so much as to see the boys, who were dissatisfied with the scanty supply nature had pro- vided for their accommodation, turn round and supply the 126 THE FROZEN STEPS AN ACCIDENT. deficiency by deluging the side-path with water, which the keen and biting air quickly transmuted into ice. " Say, boys !" shouted Steve, putting his mouth to a broken pane, " say make ice on my steps won't you ?" Was there ever a child that did not emphasize the posses- sive pronouns ? The word was enough the next moment a pail-full of water was trickling down the steps, and with marvelous rapidity a transparent coating was formed over the rugged stone. Catharine of Russia never took more pride in her Palace of Ice "thai most magnificent and mighty freak," than Stephen Grey took in the pellucid fretwork that fringed the edge of each step. The fresh, uutired imagination of the child saw wonders and beauty in it that mature age would smile to hear of, and no idea of evanescence intruded to mar the pleasure he enjoyed. The creaking of the rusty gate on its hinges attracted his attention, and seeing his mother, he endeavored to make her understand what had occurred not that he had any idea of warning her against danger no ; he merely wished her to admire what he admired. Pleased at seeing him pleased, but too hurried to attend to what he was saying, Mrs. Grey attempted to descend the steep ladder-like stairs without any precaution ; but scarcely had she touched the treacherous footing, when she was precipitated to the bottom, the basket hampering her, and taking away every ERNEST GREY. 127 chance she otherwise would have had to save herself from fulling. Steve ran, screaming, to the door, and strove with despe- rate energy to lift her up. Poor boy ! he might as well have attempted to move a mountain " Don't cry, Steve," said Mrs. Grey, faintly " don't cry. I'll be better by-and-bye." She endeavored to rise, but the extreme pain produced by the exertion overpowered her, and she sank back sense- less. When she awoke to consciousness, the frightened child was kneeling beside her, crying bitterly, and exclaim- ing over and over again " it's by-and-bye now, mother it's by-aud-bye now, so it is." The child's continued cries having been overheard, some poor women her fellow-lodgers came to her assistance. They carried her in, and obtained medical aid for her, when it was discovered that she had dislocated her ancle, and fractured her leg below the knee. Nothing could exceed Jane's grief when she heard the extent of her misfortune the impossibility of going to the prison, and the agony of suspense her husband would endure in consequence, was her first thought. This was the greatest aggravation of her suffering. ' Oh ! how she longed for one glimpse of Lizzy Roberts' sweet, patient face she felt that it would do her more good than all the medicine in New York, for it would ease her mind. She would have no hesitation in asking her 128 AN ACCIDENT. to go to the prison and tell her husband what had occurred : she kiiew that she would break it to him gently. What, too, would she not give for the cordial kindness of Mrs. Fitzgerald ! how inestimable it would be at such a time ! If either were with her she would be contented, for Steve would then be taken care of, and all that kindness could do would be done for her. Still she felt some hesitation in appealing to them, and resolved to wait till the next day, in hopes that she might feel better. The next day, however, as might be expected, she was much worse in high fever, and utterly unable to communi- cate her wishes intelligibly. The poor women who lived in the same house, watched by her sick bed by turns, or attended to Steve ; and though they had but little to give, and that little of the coarsest kind, yet it was given un- grudgingly, and with cheerful alacrity. More than one tried to entice Steve away, for their women's hearts over- flowed with pity for the youthful mourner ; but he would not leave the room. He spent hours crouching at the back of the bed, eating what was brought to him, without remark, but never asking for food. On the third day the fever began to abate, but anxiety of mind, and the want of proper nourishment, retarded her recovery, and days passed without producing any percepti- ble improvement. No one could give her tidings of her husband no one EEXEST GREY. 129 knew anything about the trial, or its result. They took no interest iu trials, except the supposed criminal was known to them, and they now, for the first time, learned that their new neighbor had a husband living. Unable to endure the suspense, she sent for Lizzy Ro- berts, but she had removed, and the neighbors could not tell where. Then she sent for Mrs. Fitzgerald, but here again a disappointment awaited her, for the people of the house flatly refused to deliver the message, lest it might distract the attention of the nurse from her sick charge. " Oh, Steve ! my darling child, what will become of you?" said the afflicted mother "alone hi the world, without friends. I know not. It distracts ine to think of it, and yet I can think of nothing else." Without understanding the depth of his mother's grief, poor Steve, child-like, cried for sympathy. " If I could but see your father !" she exclaimed, with startling earnestness, raising herself in the bed, and looking at the wondering child with an expression that made the tears run faster down his cheeks " If I could but see your father, I would die happy." " I'll go and look for him," said Steve. His mother smiled sadly, and shook her head at his childish folly ; but Steve meant what he said, and slipping out unobserved, he roamed through the streets in search of his father. He soon got bewildered, and lost his way. 130 THE CHILD'S EESOLVE. The night fell, and the terrified child, thoroughly alarmed, begged of some women to take him home to his mother, as she was very sick. " What a pretty boy !" said one woman " where do you live, sonny ?" " Down there," said Steve, pointing in the very opposite direction to his home. "No, he don't," said another. "I know where. Poor little fellow ! his mother is very sick, and he has no father." At this juncture Ernest Grey passed, and hearing the well-known voice, forced his way through the crowd and found his child, as described in the last chapter. CHAPTER XYI. GREY'S RETURN TO HIS HOME MEETING OF HUSBAND AND WIFE THE MENDICANT. WHEN Jane first observed her child's absence, she was greatly alarmed lest he might have gone to seek his father, and so lost his way, and as hour after hour passed without his returning, her alarm increased. The dim twilight fell like a pall upon that dismal basement, and she strained her eyes in the vain endeavor to penetrate the gloom, but he came not. The twilight gave way to night, and she list- ened oh ! with what intensity, for his footfall, but the only sounds she heard were the beating of her own heart, and her quick, irregular breathing. She tried to rise, but that was an impossibility, and there she lay for hours in feverish anxiety, her physical sufferings forgotton and unfelt in her all-absorbing mental agony. Suddenly she starts, a strange, wild expression lights up her face, and every sense seems to be merged in that of hearing. A man's step, eager and hurried, approaches the house, stops de- scends the stairs the door is flung open, and the next 132 MEETING OF HUSBAND AND WIFE. moment, Stephen, escaping from his father's arms, is beside her. " Thank Heaven !" exclaimed Jane, fervently, as she pressed him to her heart, and almost smothered him with kisses ; " thank Heaven my boy is safe." " And father, too," said the child. " Your father ! where is your father ?" asked Jane, wildly. " Oh, Ernest ! Ernest 1" she continued, without waiting for an answer, "if you are in the room come to me." Scarcely were the words uttered, when she felt her hus- band's arms around her, his lips pressed to her's, and the hot scalding tears falling like rain upon her face. It was some moments before either spoke their emotions were too deep for words. Jane was the first to regain com- posure. " Answer one question," she said " the verdict what was it ?" " Not guilty." " Thank God !" was her heartfelt exclamation. " Now, Ernest, strike a light I want to see you." The lamp was lighted, and one less accustomed than Ernest Grey to scenes of destitution, might have shuddered at its revealings. Everything spoke of the most abject poverty the mouldy walls, the bare floor and the empty stove the very aspect of the room was dreary, and an ERNEST GREY. 133 appalling sense of desolation haunted it like a ghost. But Ernest Grey was too familiar with misery to mind these details he knew it without waiting to scan its every fea- ture in the agony of that moment he thought only of his ivife. As the light fell upon her face, he felt a sensation bf relief, for there was a flush on the cheek and a brightness in the eye, that looked like returning health. Jane's scru- tiny was not so satisfactory, for after one glance she sighed heavily, and turned her eyes full of mournful meaning upon Steve. Did she look forward to the time when, deprived of father and mother, he would have to struggle through the world alone ? Alas for human foresight ! even so. " We would be ungrateful to repine at anything, when your character is clear," she said, after hearing from her husband the details of his trial and acquittal. " I will try and get well, and in a little time we will be happy and comfortable. I feel as if everything could be borne now. Poverty is nothing disgrace is the only thing to be dreaded." All this time, Steve, elated with his success, stood by the bed, but when Grey told of his wanderings in search of, and his meeting with him, when hope had vanished, his exultation burst all bounds, and it would be hard to say whether he laughed or cried the most. " I telled you I would find him," he repeated over and over again " and I did didn't I, mother ?" 134 MEETING OF HUSBAND AND WIPE. " Yes, you did, my boy," said his father, lifting him on his knee, "and now go to sleep, Steve you are tired walking." " I ain't tired one bit," replied Steve, manfully, but the little head had not rested many minutes on his father's shoulder, when sleep overcame him. For a few moments he slept soundly, and then awaking with a scream, he caught hold of his father's arm, and begged him not to go away again. " He is not going away, my darling ! What could have put that into his head ?" said the mother, anxiously. " Come, Steve be a man," said the father, appealing to his boyish pride, " and don't cry I am not going away any more." " You're sure ?'' " Yes, very sure. There, now go to sleep." Steve was the only one in that miserable abode who did sleep that night. The husband and wife talked over the past, and arranged their plans for the future Jane endeav- oring to make herself believe that all would now go well, v and Grey dreading what the morrow would bring forth. The two following days he spent seeking for work, but procured none no one would employ him. Some con- sidered it audacious in him to ask for work, and expressed it pretty plainly in their manners. Others shrank from him as if dishonesty were contagious, and all " his lordly ERNEST GREY. 135 fellow-worms'' refused his humble petition point blank. They admitted that he might be innocent, but "good should seem good as well as be," was their motto, and they abided by it. Had Grey been a murderer, or a criminal of the first magnitude, philanthropists might have taken him in hand, for philanthropists and physicians are attracted by extreme cases ; but, unfortunately, he was a shabby sinner, and an unconvicted one at that, and, therefore, he had no chance. Poor fellow 1 he went through the ordeal bravely. True, he winced under the open contempt and ostentatious horror of many " a dog in office ;" but when he thought of the two helpless ones depending on him, he braced himself up and again tried, and was again disap- pointed. At night he returned, tired and sick at heart, without means to procure nourishment for his wife, or food for his child. Steve, like all children, had an implicit belief in his father's omnipotence, and this childish faith, betrayed in every look and word, was agonizing to Grey. Though he would willingly give his life for him, he could do nothing ! Nothing ! could he not beg ? Yes, even that. The man revolted at the idea, but the father shrank from no humiliation for his child's sake. " Jane," he said, quietly, " I must try and get bread for Steve he is hungry, poor child !" " I didn't think you had any money, Ernest." " And you thought right. I Trmv ~V 136 THE MENDICANT. "You are not going to 1 ' Jane stopped, and gazed earn- estly in his face " to ask for some ?" . He leaned over her, and even in the dim light his face looked flushed, but when he spoke his voice betrayed no emotion. " I am going to beg for some, Jane." Though her heart swelled to bursting, she made no attempt to dissuade him, and without a word saw him depart ; but when the door closed, and she was alone, her feelings could no longer be restrained, and she gave vent to them in a burst of grief. With a rapid step he proceeded to Broadway, and took his station at the corner of Franklin street. He drew liis hat over his brows kept himself carefully in the shade of the lamp-post, and scrutinized the groups that thronged past to the different places of amusement, himself an object of suspicion to many. Every variety of character was there every phase of expression tell-tale faces, faces that tell no tales, and faces that have no tales to tell, passed him, and with a penetration sharpened by necessity, he knew them at a glance. From some he shrank away instinctively, and many a warm and kindly nature brushed past him before he could summon up courage to appeal to it. Ashamed of his irresolution, he determined to wait no longer, when a strong, powerful voice struck upon his ear EBNEST GREY. 137 " Just what I say, sir, the poor ought to be attended to. He only wants to make capital out of them." " Nothing more, depend upon it," was the rejoinder. And two gentlemen, warmly clad and buttoned up to the chin, turned the corner of the street. Grey laid his hand on the arm of the first speaker, and in an agitated voice muttered " My wife and child are starving." " Work, man, work," said the gentleman, harshly ; " you are worse than the prodigal in the Gospel to work you are able to beg you are not ashamed." And shaking him off, he commenced a philippic against the lazy, improv- ident poor, and lashed their vices with a whip that must have been borrowed from the Furies. Again and again Grey applied to the passers by, but some were too hurried to attend to him, some had no power to help him some intimated that he was drunk, and others among them women too, shook their heads incredulously, and " didn't believe a word of it." What narcotic invented for a troublesome conscience, ever equaled in efficacy, " I don't believe a word of it ?" None whatever. It soothes it, allays its irritation, puts it on good terms with itself, and restores its serene self-complacency in a twinkling. Oh, wonderful is the power of incredulity. Fifteen minutes have scarcely elapsed since Ernest Grey made his first application for relief yet in that short time his manner has become so changed, you could scarcely 138 THE MENDICANT. believe that it was the same person. His agitation has vanished reiterated repulses have made him reckless and indifferent, and his abrupt appeals sound like demands. Listen to him as he accosts that intelligent-looking me- chanic his voice does not falter observe him his eye does not seek the ground. " I want help." " You do," said the person addressed, coming to a full stop, and turning round to view the applicant " then you must have it." Kind words are like the rod of Moses, and as Grey lis- tened, his desperate calmness vanished, and the unbidden tear glistened in his eye. " My wife and child are starving," he added, apologeti- cally, " and I can do nothing for them." " Starving ! impossible !" exclaimed the sympathizing mechanic. " Starving hi New York starving in the midst of plenty it can't be true," his emotion proving how firmly he believed what his tongue denied. " Would to God it were false !" fervently ejaculated Grey. " Come with me see with your own eyes. I am no impostor." " I don't doubt your story. I only wish I could. Richard Kane is not the man to " " Richard Kane !" repeated Grey, interrupting him, in extreme surprise. " I might have known it was him." " Why, who are you ?" said Kane, drawing the speaker ERNEST GREY. 139 to the brilliantly-lighted window beside him, and pushing up his hat, that he might sec his features distinctly. " Ernest Grey ! as I live. Your wife and child starv- ing ! Here" ho emptied his pockets while speaking, and poured a quantity of silver and copper into his hand " hurry and get them food. For God's sake ! man," he added, impatiently, " make no delay." " I cannot take it it is too much." " Grey," said the other, earnestly, " I would have given ten aye, twenty times that sum, a few weeks ago, to believe as I now do that you are innocent." "Take back your money," said Grey, flinging it from him as if it were poison. " Sooner than touch a cent of it I would starve, and let all belonging to me starve too. If you had not known me, Richard Kane !" " Stop ! I didn't mean I only said," stammered Kane, endeavoring to detain him, but in vain, for Grey, shaking oif his hand, fled an if his direst foe was on his track, and was soon lost in the darkness. Richard followed him for several blocks, anxious to discover his abode, but soon gave up the pursuit in despair, and retraced his steps, his mind a prey to remorse and sorrow. About half an hour after, Ernest entered his miserable abode with a bountiful supply of provisions. He turned a deaf ear to Jane's inquiries as to where he had got them, and seemed saddened by his success, except when Steve's undisguised delight elicited from him an answering smile. CHAPTER XVII. THE JUDGE AND THE ACCUSED ERNEST GREY IN THE FIFTH AVENUE STOP THIEF ! THE TOMBS. THE next day, Ernest Grey, in accordance with a resolution he had previously formed, called at the judge's house. It so happened that he had advertised that morning for a man to take charge of his horses, and this circumstance becoming known to Grey at the door, he took advantage of it, to obtain admittance. He was shown into a luxuri- ously comfortable room, and there, half hidden in an easy chair, sat the judge, deep in tHe morning papers. " You want a man to take charge of your horses," said Grey, addressing him. " Yes," he replied, without lifting his eyes from the paper he was reading. " I am willing to work for whatever you are willing to pay. Will that suit ?" "Yes that will do very well. Have you any recom- mendations ? Stay," said he, putting aside his paper, and ERNEST GREY. 141 scrutinizing the applicant closely, " where have I seen you lately ?" " In the dock, when you were on the bench," was the unhesitating reply. " Ha ! indeed. Well, sir, what do you want with me now r " Work." ' Good ! And do you expect me to give it to you ? to trust you ? a " " Hold ! sir, hold ! here is my recommendation. Read it." He took from his pocket a carefully-folded piece of printed paper, and passed it to the judge. " What foolery is this ?" he said, impatiently, opening it, however, and glancing over it. " Eh ! why, this is the verdict." "Yes, the verdict of acquittal ; and on the strength of it, I ask for work. Give me work, and I'll prove the truth of that verdict." " What if I refuse ?" A deeper shade passed over Grey's haggard face, and there was a touch of sadness in his voice as he replied " Then I may verify your suspicions." " Why did you come to me ?" inquired the judge, after a long pause. " What induced you to act in such an unpre- cedented mannor ?" 142 THE JUDGE AND THE ACCUSED. " Because your charge to the Jury set me free." " I charged the Jury to decide by the evidence ; but 1 expressed no opinion as to your guilt or innocence. It was not ray opinion they were to go by, but by the facts ; and as there was not sufficient legal proof of your guilt, I, as the Judge, gave you the benefit of the doubt ray own opinion was unfavorable throughout." " The benefit of a doubt !" exclaimed Grey, indignantly " good God ! what mockery. What benefit is it to me to be thrown on .the world with my character blasted, and my name a bye-word and a reproach ? Don't be merciful only on the bench, but give me, as a man, the benefit of the Judge's doubt, and I will thank you." " I gave you the benefit of that doubt at the proper time and place," said the Judge, sternly p " and I claim the right to use it now, for my own protection. Would you have me place you on a level with a man whose integrity was never doubted ? That would be equivalent to a premium on dis- honesty. I will not employ a man I cannot trust, and I cannot trust you." Taking up the newspaper, he turned his chair to the fire, and appeared to pore over its contents. " As I'm a living man, believing in a future," said Ernest Grey, with solemn energy, and a tone scarcely above a whisper, " I am innocent of the crime laid to my charge innocent in thought, or deed, in whole, or part. I was ERNEST GREY. 143 poor if that is a ground for suspicion, Heaven knows they had grounds enough." The Judge made no reply, but kept his eyes fixed on the paper, as if it were the sole subject of his thoughts. '"If yon," continued Grey, "who know the facts, and who know how unsafe it is to trust the clearest circumstan- tial evidence if you discredit your own verdict, to whom can I apply ? Who will listen to me ? Who will trust me ? And think I may be innocent ; but how long can I remain so ? My wife is dying my child is in want hunger and despair are at my heart ; and what desperate counselors they are, the prosperous can never dream. I cannot answer for myself. Believe me guilty if you will, but give me a chance to do better. Do not drive me into crime." "I have listened to you quite long enough," said the Judge, rising ; " and I think it time for this interview to end. That I, in the course of my official duty, discharged you from confinement, is no proof that I presumed you inno- cent. Protestations have no weight with me one proof is worse than a thousand, and I have invariably remarked that those who are loudest in protesting, are least deserving of credit. You may be innocent it is quite possible ; but the threats you threw out incline me to doubt it. It is evident that virtue with you is a matter of speculation. You can coolly foresee the time you will be guilty, if not so 144 THE JUDGE AND THE ACCUSED. already ; and calculate how much, or how little you'll endure, before you violate the laws of your country. As to being driven into crime that is one of the philanthropic cants of the day, with which I have no sympathy. He who has erred once must submit to a probation." " That is all I ask, or wish for," replied Grey. " Try me give me but a chance to re-establish my character give me work." " I Answered you on that point already. I could not, in justice to you or to myself, place you in a position of responsibility, where the trust and the temptation are about equal." " I shrink from no trust I fear no temptation," said Grey, vehemently. " If I were the veriest demon, trust me, and yon humanize me." For a moment the suspicions of the Judge gave way before the feelings of the man, and he was half-inclined to grant the request so earnestly urged ; but only for a mo- ment the next consideration came, and Grey's very urgency told against him. Men don't covet trust solely to prove themselves trustworthy, whispered suspicion, and that set- tled the question. " I cannot depart from my settled rule of action in your behalf," he said. " You are not the first who has promised boldly, but promise and performance are two different things, and those who are proficient in one, rarely excel in SnE RAISED HERSELF IN THE RED, FH'NC, HER ARMS WILD- LY VPWARD, AND EXCLAIMED IN ACCENTS THAT THRILLED THE HEARTS OF HER LISTENERS, "Oil. F.KNT-T ! F.RNEST! ERNEST GREY. 14.5 tfie other. Besides, I would not consider myself justified ; I would not be fulfilling my duty to society, if I preferred you to worthier men." " Would to Heaven 1" exclaimed Ernest Grey, impetu- ously, " you had thought of your duty to society when I was in the dock. Had you been as careful of its interests as your own, I had been still inside the prison. But now, thanks to your clemency, I am free free to starve free to steal free to sink, and sink and sink, till I reach the lowest hell of infamy. But am I free to work, or to remain guiltless, as the law says I am ? Do you think because I'm poor that I cannot feel for my own as keenly as the wealth- iest merchant of New York ? and do you think that, being human, I can look tamely on and see them die by inches, without making one effort to save them ? No ; self-pres- ervation is the first law of nature, and they are dearer to me than my life. I will save them at all hazards. I call Heaven to witness that, to get leave to work, I have hum- bled myself until I have become mean in my own eyes, and what was the result ? insult and derision. If I ask for alms, I am told to work ; if I ask for work, I am told to follow my old trade. What am I to do ? Everywhere it is the same. The prison spews me out because there is a doubt of my guilt, the world flings me off because there is a doubt of my innocence. Good morning, Judge ; if we ever meet again, there may be no room for doubt." 146 EIINEST GEEY IN THE FIFTH AVENUE. He turned away abruptly, and left that room a desperate man. Out into the open air, that blew so keen and cold, and beneath the unclouded clearness of the wintry sky ! He bared his throbbing temples to the wind, and wished it were a tempest, a deluge, a hurricane of hail. If the four winds of Heaven were to meet, and in their wild struggles form a whirling eddying vortex, something akin to the maddening maelstrom of his own mind, it would have soothed him. But that nature should be so calm when he was convulsed, so still when he was agitated, that the out- ward world should be so little in unison with his feelings, seemed strange and unnatural. He would have given worlds, had he possessed them, to see the flood-gates of Heaven opened, and to feel the rain beat in torrents upon his uncovered head. But let who will sorrow, the seasons take their course, summer roses blush above the dead, and winter's gay chrysanthemums, flowering mid the snow, make many a grave-yard pleasant. On he passed through that synonyme for New York wealth and luxury, the Fifth Avenue, with its rows of splendid houses grouped together in gregarious grandeur, each adding lustre to the other its magnificent monotony broken up and relieved, at intervals, by detached mansions standing isolated and apart, disdaining to merge their individuality in the aggregate mass of stone and lime that make up that fashionable thoroughfare. Gay equipages, ERNEST GRET. 147 freighted with fair, but etiolated human blossoms, rattled over the stony street ; gentlemen sauntered up and down, alternately twirling their canes and mustaches ; and elderly ladies, in furs that erewhile " warmed a bear," moved on nervously, anxious about some poodle plump as a Hebe, or greyhound slim as a sylph, that accompanied th m. In that sacred locality stores and traffic were not, the clang of the hammer and the grating of the saw were apocryphal sounds, and the roar of the busy city died away into a murmur soft as the sound of a receding wave, ere it reached these castles of Indolence. Through this avenue did Ernest Grey pass, himself the strangest object there strange as a spectre seen at noon-day and gazed upon the marble stoops elaborately carved, and the double windows exquis- itely draped with the blended products of France and Belgium. But now the gas is lit, and delicate Corinthian pillars, graceful statues, " pictures that throw Italian light " upon the walls, and " Many a mirror in which he of Gath, Goliah, might have seen his giant bulk. Whole, without stooping, towering creat and all," become visible. Lovely, laughing groups, whose sweet faces are still fresh with the morning dew of childhood, are there, and as the eye of that miserable man lingered, in a sort of fearful fascination, on the scene, his mind turned to the cellar-basement where cowered his wife and child, and ERNEST GEEY IN THE FIFTH AVENUE. he asked himself could they be of the same nature, formed of the same clay, and made by the same Creator as the joyous groups before him. Why were those so scourged, and these so favored ? Why, indeed 1 Ah, Ernest Grey, the answer to that question would unriddle the mystery of life. With the idea of his wife and child came the desire to return home, but alas, he had nothing, not even hope, to bring with him, he was an Ishmael among his brethren, a pariah among his kind, and from the bitterness of feeling engendered by such thoughts, arose scorn of his own pa- tience and bitter self-disdain. As he' reached home he met the doctor, and anxiously inquired about his wife. " She is very low," was the careless reply ; " this frosty weather is unfavorable for her, but what she wants particu- larly, is nourishment. If she had that, she would get along." " Then she shall have it," replied Grey, with stern de- termination. Turning from the door, he proceeded to a large grocery store in the neighborhood, and without embarrassment or hesitation, made known his request. The person he ad- dressed was far from unfeeling, but there was a startling abruptness, a latent fierceness in Grey's manner, to which bis own "kind but superficial feelings gave him no clue, and ERNEST GREY. 149 deeming the intruder an insolent street-beggar, who would force him to give by threatening to take, he refused unhesi- tatingly. The clerk was examining a bill when Grey entered, and it now lay upon the counter. The temptation was irresistible he seized it and rushed from the store, followed by the clerk, whose cry of " Stop thief" soon gathered a crowd. They pursued their prey with the keen relish of sportsmen, and gradually gained upon him 1 nearer and nearer they came every step, and in less time than we have taken to describe it, Ernest Grey was again a prisoner. Let not the reader judge him too harshly he was but a man whose very strength became his weakness ; and had he been the only sufferer, no extremity could have driven him to such an act. Alas, there is no class in society whom we suspect so readily, and from whom we expect so much, as the poor. Strange contradiction 1 Even those who would have succumbed to one-twentieth part of the tempta- tion, join in the general cry, and seize the opportunity to prove their own virtue by their abhorrence of another's vice. "To err is human:" what wonder, therefore, that Ernest Grey erred, placed as he was, like Tantalus amid luxuries, he dared neither touch nor taste, starving in the midst of plenty, enduring in a Christian land tortures which were considered by heathens fit punishment for the damned. Let us think gently of the fallen 150 THE TOMBS. " What's done we partly may compute, We know not what's resisted." There could be no doubt concerning Grey's guilt the money was found in his possession, the charge against him was clear and self-evident, and he was once more committed to the Tombs. In vain he entreated permission to see his wife, if it were but for a moment ; the police, regarding him as a hardened offender, did not vouchsafe a reply. Passing through many streets reeking with filth and filled with miserable, squalid creatures, the motley procession at last reached the Tombs. CHAPTER XVIII. EXCITING NEWS IN SHORT'S ALLEY. DEATH 0^ MRS. GREY. GREAT was the uproar and commotion in Short's Alley, when it received intelligence of Ernest Grey's second im- prisonment. With what virtuous acrimony they denounc- ed, with what pious animosity they reviled him ! They knew him all along : he had never deceived them they never liked him from the first that they must say. " I don't believe in people that think themselves better than other folks," said one " still water runs deep," said another ; and, " who would have thought it," added a third. And so it passed from one to another, and the alley had a holiday, which was spent in wondering what the world would come to, and thanking God they were not as others were. Some bore testimony to their own merits with a modest pride, while others besprinkled their dis- course with self laudations, introduced surreptitiously ; and others again, artistic in virtuous vanity, brought into view their excellencies, merely as a relief to the dark back- 152 EXCITING NEWS. ground of human frailty. Yet there was one pleasant feature in the case it proved beyond a doubt the people were not to be deceived by externals. Penetration, sagac- ity, and insight into character were theirs they knew all the time how it would end they looked and saw, and said nothing what business was it of theirs. It was not long before Lizzy Roberts heard all. What could it mean ? She knBw not- what to think. It was strange that he should be twice accused ; but to her trust- ing mind not half so strange as that he should be once guilty. " I fear there's some truth in it this time," said Mar- garet, gently. " Not the shadow of truth you do not know him or you would not say so." Margaret said no more, for Lizzy's agitated countenance denoted that she was greatly discomposed. " To hear them," she said, after a pause ; " they seemed to feel glad to have something to talk about. They would not listen to a word in his favor they were sure he did it." " Of course that's natural, Lizzy. Human beings are like wolves : when one of the pack is wounded they rend him to pieces. But where was he taken ? You might make out, Mrs. Grey, if you knew. Poor thing ! I pity her from my heart." " I must put away my work and try, no matter what ERNEST OBEY. 153 happens. Jane wouldn't lose a minute in coming to me. Oh dear ! I fear I'm getting very hardened, to even think about myself and my paltry work at such a time." " I will go with you, Lizzy the walk will do me good, for my side is so bad I can scarcely breathe." We will not follow them in their search ; suffice it, that having found the store on which the robbery was com- mitted, they soon discovered Mrs. Grey's abode. The moment they darkened the door, Steve recognized his old favorite, and screaming with surprise he ran to her, and hid his face in her bosom. On the pallet lay Jane, apparently unconcions of even Steve's presence, and by the bed stood Mrs. Fitzgerald, bathing the burning temples of the poor invalid, and vainly endeavoring to repress her own tears. Two or three women were about the room, and occasionally they would approach the bed, glance at the sufferer then at each other, and sagely shake their heads and sigh " there was no hope." And they were right death was in every feature. Five minutes had not elapsed from her husband's cap- ture till she was made acquainted with it, and that incau- tiously. The consequence of it was easy to foresee. The anguish of her mind increased the fever, and now Jane Grey had not many minutes to live. Death had passed the tlireshhold and stood amongst them, and awed by . his dread presence, watchors and mourners moved on tiptoe 154 DEATH OF MRS. GREY. and spoke in whispers. The air was heavy, as if crowded with unseen spirits, and the convulsive gasps of the dying woman, told the struggles of the impatient soul to burst its prison, for well it knew the advent of its liberator. Silently the young girls stood, tearless spectators of the dread conflict whose issue all foresaw. But when the child, dimly conscious of the appalling change, clung to his mother, entreating her not to go, their over-wrought feelings found relief in tears. " Not to go " where ? Strange " above measure strange," that the first idea of death in a child's mind is inseparably connected with depart- ure. Whence comes it ? Innate it must be, for it is universal. The minutes passed away heavily, like hours. For a moment conciousness seemed to revisit the dying woman, and her eyes turned with a gleam of intelligence to the familiar faces around her ; then wandered as if in search of one more loved, and at last lingered with deathless fond- ness on the youthful face that nestled by her side. " My child ! my child ! " she murmured at intervals, who will love you who will mind you when I am gone ? " " I will," sobbed Lizzy Roberts. " I will love him dearly, and I will mind him the best I can." " Don't fret about him," said Mrs. Fitzgerald, earnestly ; " while God spares me my health, he'll not want, no more thaji if he was my own child. Make your mind easy about him." EUNEST GREY. 155 The dying woman looked from one to the other, and a smile irradiated her wasted features. For a few minutes she lay without motion then with a sudden, superhuman effort, she half raised herself in the bed, flung her arms wildly upwards, and exclaimed in accents that thrilled the hearts of her hearers : " Oh, Ernest ! Ernest ! " It was the last flicker of the dying taper the last ray of the setting soul the next moment she fell back exhaust- ed there was a hollow gurgling sound a deep drawn gasping sigh, and ere the echo of that beloved name ceased to vibrate on her ear, the spirit of Jane Grey had winged its flight to another world. Death, took his station by the bed, and Time and Eternity touched hands across it. Never was there more sincere sorrow for the dead than in that humble room ; never was sympathy for the survivors more true and genuine. " She's dead P said Mrs. Fitzgerald, closing the eyes. " No ! no ! no ! she ain't," screamed Steve ; " I tell you she ain't. Mother ! mother ! waken oh, won't you waken up ?" And bursting into a passion of tears, he flung his arras about her neck, and kissed her cold lips again and again. Finding his entreaties unheeded, and his caresses unretunied, he .had recourse to Lizzy Roberts. " You come/' he said, ratreatingly, pulling her to the bed- 156 DEATH OF MRS. GEEY. side " and speak to her, and she will waken up I know she will. Won't you waken her, Lizzy ?" Lizzy Roberts 7 forced composure vanished before this artless appeal, and clasping the child in her arms, she mingled her tears with his. Soothed by her sympathy, his stormy sorrow gradually subsided, and he cried himself to sleep. Mrs. Grey's death was soon known around the neighbor- hood, and throughout the evening women came dropping in, by twos and threes, to see the corpse. Stealthily they moved about the room, as if afraid to disturb the dead, or stood gazing on the rigid features so late instinct with life, their minds stirred by a vague, indefinite sense of mystery, strange, yet familiar. And children, fearful they knew not why, crept in, and peered from distant corners at the life- less form, until at last, grown bold, they ventured nearer, and clinging close to their mothers, glanced with frightened curiosity at the object that repelled and attracted them. Many of the women had never seen Jane alive, but they unanimously agreed that she was very like herself, and each remarked that it was a happy exchange, and that every- thing was for the best. How easy it is to be resigned for others ! with what Christian fortitude we bear up against evils we do not share ! how light seems the hand of God when not laid upon ourselves. Then each person had some trifling remark of her's to record, which they didn't mind EKNEST GREY. IS' 7 at the time, but which struck them afterwards as being strange ; and lugubrious anecdotes, suited to the solemn scene, were circulated, and persons dead and forgotten years ago, recalled to memory ; and dreams were told some shadowy and mystical others vivid and distinct as reality itself. They stopped for hours, but at last all were gone, and through the long, bitter night, Mrs. Fitzgerald, Lizzy Roberts and Margaret kept solemn watch by the dead. " If she had only spoken one word to me if she had only once called me by name," said Lizzy Roberts to her two companions, " I wouldn't feel so bad ; but to die think- ing me unkind." " She never thought that," said Mrs. Fitzgerald, kindly " never. She knew better she blamed it on the sew- ing ; and if I heard her say that once, I heard her say it a dozen times." " Poor little fellow I" said Margaret, as the child sobbed in his sleep " what will become of him ?" - " He shan't want while I have a morsel," said Mrs. Fitz- gerald. "My only child lies in a far-off grave, and if I didn't love Stephen Grey for his own and his mother's sake, and for the matter of that for his father's too r I would for his. Glad I'd be to see him well done for, but until some one can do better for him than I can, I'll keep him, or, any way, till his father gets out of prison." 158 MRS. GREY'S DEATH. " I intended to take Steve borne with me," said Lizzy. " You ! Lord love you to think of such a thing. Don't I know what sewing is and your poor mother, too !" " My mother is no trouble to me now," said Lizzy, sadly " she's dead." " Dear me 1 Poor thing ! " said the pitying listener ; " you have your own troubles. When did she die ? " " Soon after Mrs. Grey left ; and every day since, I have new reasons to be thankful for it." Why need we repeat poor Lizzy Roberts tale of grief. The night wore heavily away, the lamps burned dimly in the greyish light of morning another day was coming, and the busy hum of life without, contrasted strikingly with the solemn silence that reigned in that chamber of death another day was coming, and the prelude to the stirring drama of city life had commenced. Why dwell upon the events of that day the silent sorrow of the women the passionate grief of the child the pauper's coffin, and the pauper's grave. CHAPTER XIX. THE SEWING GIRLS IX MR. CLEMENTS. MR. HAMILTON AND THE APPLE. THE COUSINS. WHICH IS IT. MARGARET LINWOOD and Lizzy Roberts, were sewing a few days after Mrs. Grey's death, in a luxuriously furnished bed-room in Mr. Clements' palatial residence on the Fifth Avenue. Around them was the warmth of early summer, and all the floral bloom and brightness of that sunny sea- son glowed beneath their feet. Clouds of filmy muslin from the looms of Deccan and Hyderabad, white and soft as snow-wreaths, were piled beside them, and through it ever and anon flashed the remorseless scissors able pioneer to the polished needle, that ever followed in its wake. " I don't know why it is," said Lizzy Roberts, " but ever since Jane's death, I feel as if my own life was more uncertain, more insecure. Of course, I always knew that I should die some time ; but since then I seem to feel it. 'Seems to me that I am nearer to death now than I was before." 160 THE SEWING GIRLS. " And so you are, Lizzy ; each day brings us nearer to our goal." " Yes, I know ; but it is not that, Margaret not exactly that, but I feel as if don't you remember that story of the Irou Shroud you told me how each day a window disappeared, and the walls closed in, and at last entombed the unfortunate being who was imprisoned within it ? Well, ever since, I feel as that man must have felt, when he first observed it. " Lizzy ! Lizzy ! I didn't think life was so dear to you. It is ' nature's privilege to die.' But drop that dreary sub- ject I want to talk of something else. What young lady recommended us to Miss Clements ? " " Miss Mason, the young lady that attended store in Mr. Sharpe's she that always spoke so kind." " I remember. Did she give you the umbrella you prize so highly ? " " Oh, no ! a young man gave me that, and I do prize it highly for his sake." " That's candid, Lizzy, at all events. And who may he be ? " " I don't know. I wish I did ; but I know he is kind- hearted, or he wouldn't have cared about any body that looked so wretched and miserable as I did that morning. I know it was because I was so poorly clad, that he made me take that umbrella, and I know I have often passed ERNEST GREY. 161 gentlemen when I was dripping wet, and have seen them turn round to look and laugh. I shall keep that umbrella until I see him, if I ever see him again." " Maybe you wouldn't know him." ' I'd know him any where, Margaret ; I'd know him any time. I wasn't so used to kindness, that I should take it as a matter of course." " What was he like ? If handsome, I'd begin to be afrtlid, Liz." " He wasn't handsome, but he was better than handsome. He had a kind look and a pleasant smile, and he behaved so kindly that, after I got home, I cried oh, dear ! how I cried. It was so strange to meet kindness from anybody, that I don't know how I felt. Oh ! Margaret, I remem- ber every kind word that anybody ever said to me of late." " Yes, I believe you, Liz, and it is not. a very heavy tax on your memory But, tell me something more about this Knight of the Umbrella." "I haven't anything more to tell. I never saw him since. Poor Ernest Grey knew him, and would have returned it to him, but his own misfortune happened just then. Oh, dear ! when I think of the evening 1 brought that umbrella down to him, and how Steve wanted to have it, and bow his father talked to him about it, and made the child himself see how wicked it was to wish for it, and how 162 THE SEWING GIRLS. proud Jane was of both in the middle of her sorrow when I think of it " And Lizzy Roberts, overcome by remembrance, wept long and bitterly. During the conversation, however, the work proceeded the needle flew with marvelous rapidity through the gauzy fabric, and the busy fingers knew no pause. " How pleasant it is to sit in this room, and get a glimpse of the blue sky by times, Liz, with its fleets of flying clouds, or its hosts of glittering stars. It is a luxury to look upon the broad heavens. Lift your eyes from your work for one minute, and look through the window. If we had that window in our little attic, in place of the hole in the roof, through which we can see* a star at a time, if we looked long enough wouldn't we be stylish, Liz ?" " I should think we would, Margaret, but our own little window is very good." " Oh ! too good. It catches a stray sunbeam for us once in a while, and I do verily believe I have seen the tail-end of a cloud through it more than once. It is too good for us by far : it takes a lady in a silk dress, or a white musliu one, to gaze at the moon : there can be no sympathy be- tween sixpenny calico and the stars. Do you think there can ? do you think none but carriage folks can love flowers ? You are too cunning to answer, Liz ; but I can tell you, ERNEST GREY. 163 no country girl ' stops her nose at beds of violets' it takes fine ladies to do that. Do you love the country ?" " Love it, Margaret ! I guess I do," replied Liz, with animation. " I love every blade of grass, and every wild flower, and every weed in it." " If you had forgotten the weeds, I wouldn't have given a fig for your love." " I would give anything to dream of it. I wonder I never do ; but it is always the weary sewing night and day I dream of nothing else." " Not even of the Knight of the Umbrella ?" said Mar- garet, watching curiously the effect of her remark. But she might as well have spared herself the trouble, for Lizzy never looked up from her work, and didn't seem to hear it. Margaret repeated the question. " No ; I only think of him." " Only 1 "Well, that's not much. What do you think about him ?" "I think I should like to see him again, and thank him," said Lizzy, quietly, " for I believe that people show their real nature in trifles." While the sewing girls were busy above, an animated conversation was going on in the parlors. Mrs. Clements had determined to give a ball, and though sinking under ' the insupportable fatigue of thought ' consequent thereon, held to her determination with laudable firmness. She had 164 MRS. CLEMENTS AND HER DAUGHTER. taken her heaped-up list of friends and winnowed it, thor- oughly separated the chaff from the wheat, and issued her invitations accordingly. "Mother," said Agatha, remonstrating, "you are for- getting some of our best friends. Why don't you ask the Leesons ?" ""How simple you are, Agatha ! Because they are not com-me ilfaut. Who ever heard of them ? They do very well for a quiet evening party ; but in a case of this kind, we should do with our friends as we do with our flowers cull a bouquet of the choicest and rarest. Daisies and daffodils are very well in their place ; but this is not their place. I have sacrificed rny own feelings without a murmur, and I expect that you will not be less magnanimous. Much as I like Mrs. Wilson, I have not asked her, though she is such a sympathetic soul, and feels for niy sufferings much more, I must say, than any member of my own family still I have not asked her. What do you say, Emily ?" she inquired, turning to a bright-eyed girl who was examining some new music. . " For pity's sake, aunt, don't ask her ; she is a bore. When listening to her, I fancy I'm reading the annals of a hospital, and the index to an herbarium, beaten up together, like the white and yelk of an egg. Why don't you consult Robert ?" " Oh, Robert has been from home these last two months," ERNEST GREY. 165 replied Agatha, " He went to Charleston without giving us the least intimation of his design ; but he will be home in time : we expect him next week." " Well, why don't you cousult Mr. Hamilton ?" " Consult me L About what ?" said Mr. Hamilton. " Hear him, as if he didn't know. Why, all the time he was pretending to be immersed in that book, he was peep- ing slyly over the leaves at Agatha, or me which ? ' as I am Egypt's queen, thou blushest, Antony' which ? ' tell truth and shame' ah 1 that's a naughty quotation." " Never mind her, Mr. Hamilton ; you know what a mad-cap she always was. You remember how she behaved last summer," said Agatha, anxious to turn the conver- sation. " How quickly you come to Mr. Hamilton's rescue, cousin mine. Let Mr. Hamilton fight his own battles, and don't you take such an interest in him. What, you blushing, too, Agatha ! Would you desire better sympathy, Mr. Hamilton ?" " Emily !" said Agatha, in a tone of reproach. " Don't scold me, cousin ; one glance at your counte- nance is as good as a lecture. Which were you admiring, Mr. Hamilton ? " Both, Miss North." " You are a Machiavel, I see ; but a woman would be an over-match for Machiavel himself. Here is an apple ;" 166 MB. HAMILTON AND THE APPLE. lifting one from the silver salver, and passing it to him "now if you were Paris, which of us would get that apple ?" " Either you or Miss Clements shall get it within two weeks," said Mr. Hamilton, earnestly, putting it carefully in his pocket as he spoke. " Now, heaven preserve us from a proposal !" exclaimed Emily, with affected terror. " Matrimony is in the solemn tones of that man's voice. Beware what you do ! I give you fair warning that, if you present that apple, or any other apple, to me within the stipulated time, I will hold it equivalent to 'will you marry me, sweet Ally Croker.'" " I am willing to run the risk," replied Mr. Hamilton, cheerfully. " What says Miss Clements is it a compact ?" " How fearlessly the man talks, as if he would say ' who's afraid !' " exclaimed Emily, lifting her hands in well feigned astonishment at his audacity. " Say yes, Agatha, and we will have him in a pretty cul de sac say yes," she repeated, impatiently. But Agatha shook her head, and would not say yes. " Silence gives consent. But one word to the bargain there must be no sneaking off afterwards under pretence of its being a frolic I'll be a very Shylock." " I give you my word I'll not sneak off on that pretence, or any other," said Mr. Hamilton. ERNEST GREY. 167 " I'm in sober earnest, and Agatha there can be no doubt of her good faith, for she took it seriously from the first. Didn't you, Agatha ?" " Of course, Emily ; anything emanating from you must be taken so. Mr. Hamilton understands that perfectly." " Xo 'ironic satire sidelongs sklented,' Miss Clements, if you please. You might take a lesson from Mr. Ham- ilton." " Yes, he ' knows what he knows, as if he knew it not,' I grant, but nevertheless he knows," said Agatha. "Will you let Mr. Hamilton speak for himself, belle ei bonne 1 Xow, I say it will be no joke what do you say ?" " I say, most emphatically, it shall be no joke, if I can prevent it," he replied, earnestly. " What is all that nonsense about jokes ?" inquired Mrs. Clements, in a querulous tone of voice, looking from one to the other for an explanation. "Agatha was trying to prevent this 'sallow, sublime, sort-of-Werter-faced man' here, from making a bona fide proposal to me. You were not ? So, then, you thought all the time that I had no chance. Thank you I really must rise for that compliment." " Mr. Hamilton propose for you, Emily ?" " Oh, laws ! aunt, you make me blush," said Emily, affecting the most awkward embarrassment. " He has not 168 THE COUSINS WHICH IS IT. asked me yet, but he is going to. He is going to propose in an apple," she added, in a half whisper " Gracious ! what does the girl mean ?" said Mrs. Clements. " She is going to revolutionize the ' Royaume du Tendre,' mother, and instal Pomona as the presiding deity, vice Flora deposed." "I believe you are all crazy this morning. I cannot understand half what you are saying, but what I do under- stand gives me unfeigned pleasure. There is no one I would welcome into my family more sincerely than you, Mr. Hamilton, and on this point Mr. Clements and I think alike." "I thank you, dear madam, for your favorable opinion, and I assure you that to be connected with your family is the dearest object of my ambition ; but in the present instance " Mr. Hamilton paused in comical perplexity, and looked at Emily, and she, afraid that her uncle might hear it, and not see the point of the joke, was obliged to explain. " Don't scold, dear aunt," she said, in a deprecatory tone, when she concluded ; " I know it was very improper, and undignified, and all that ; but 4 as the children say, ' I'll never do it no more.' " CHAPTER XX. MRS. CLEMENTS' BALL THE PROPOSAL MALICE OF FRIENDS. THE day on which the ball was to take place, anxiously looked forward to by many, at length arrived, and Emily was in high spirits, for her dress was faultless and becoming, and it fitted her to perfection. A little after the appointed hour, carriages rattled up to the door hi rapid succession, deposited their burdens, and gave place to others ; guests poured in in one continuous stream, and young and old 'Shone forth, solicitous to bless, In all the glaring impotence of dress.' It was a scene of gorgeous confusion, a blending of all possible colors, an exhibition of all imaginable tastes. Pearls and diamonds flashed in the blaze of innumerable chandeliers ; rubies flushed a deeper glow, and emeralds glittered like the ocean at sunrise. Feathers swayed to and fro, like pendant branches in the summer air ; roses with perfumed dew-drops exhaled their artificial fragrance ; snowy clouds of lace floated past, mistily transparent, and 170 MRS. CLEMENTS' BALL. dresses of every variety of material, from the regal velvet to those gossamer tissues ' light as the foam That the wind severs from the broken wave ' were intermingled in a gay and brilliant chaos, changing and shifting like the colors in a kaleidoscope. Agatha and her cousin were dressed in white satin, with flounces of rich Chantilly lace, looped up at intervals with tiny bouquets of moss roses, their rich, brown hair, ar- ranged in full bandeaux over their fair, broad foreheads, was destitute of ornament, save a solitary camelia. It would be difficult to decide whether the pretty, piquant Emily, or the more graceful and dignified Agatha, was more admired ; but certain it is that neither was overlooked. Mr. Hamilton divided his attentions equally between them, talked, and laughed, and danced with both, with an ease and grace that threw a host of youthful competitors into the shade ; but though Emily watched and waited, looked and listened, no apple was forth-coming, and the stipulated time was drawing to a close. " Going to do anything desperate to-night ?" she inquired, as she passed him in the dance ; but Mr. Hamilton only answered with a mischievous, provoking smile. " By Jupiter ! that's a good-looking feller, Miss North," remarked her partner, an effeminate specimen of Young ERNEST GREY. 171 America, with a decided aversion to the final consonants. " But a little oldish must be thirty-five, if he is a day. Doesn't look desperate though, for seems to be on very good terms with himself. Now he comes with Miss Clements." " This gentleman doesn't think you look like a man that would do anything desperate, Mr. Hamilton," said Emily, stopping them as they passed " and now that I look at you, I am beginning to think, myself, that ' you are not the man I took you for.' You did talk very big two weeks ago ' Spak o' lowpin o'er a linn,' or something of that sort ; but I'm afraid yon watit heart." " I can assure you, Emily, that Mr. Hamilton has gained hearts by the dozen to-night ; let him have a heart, or not, he has brought them down at the first glance, and bagged them as he would pigeons." " Then I have been fortunate beyond my wishes. One heart would satisfy me, Miss Clements," said Hamilton, in a tone that sent the eloquent blood to her temples. " How moderate the man is," exclaimed Emily, in accents of admiration " what an example for you, Mr. Johnson." " Ton honor !" remarked the gentleman alluded to ; "you seem to think me quite a lawless character, Miss North. Never were more mistaken, I assure you. Ah ! how do you do, Smylie ?" Mr. Smylie, -the gentleman addressed, was a young, dis- tingue and an indisputably handsome man, with dark eyes, 172 MRS. CLEMENTS' BALL. a profusion of black, wavy hair, and teeth that any lady in the ball-room might have been proud to own. His man- ners were polished and agreeable, and when in the society of ladies, an air of deferential courtesy was superadded, that rendered him a universal favorite. He had long loved Agatha Clements, and after vainly trying to elicit from her some mark of preference, determined to know his fate at once. He came to this conclusion the more readily, because amid Agatha's crowd of admirers, there was none that she favored therefore, none that he feared. Sometimes he wished that she had not such a high opinion of Mr. Hamil- ton, but Mr. Hamilton was the friend of the family, and almost double her age this re-assured him. During the evening he made many efforts to speak to her alone, but up to the present moment he had signally failed. " You disengaged, Miss North 1" he exclaimed, in a tone of extreme surprise " why, miracles will never cease. I thought I saw Miss Clements with you just now." " She was here this very moment. I presume she and Mr. Hamilton have joined the dancers." But they had not joined the dancers, for Mr. Hamilton, insisting that Agatha must be tired, led her to a settee snugly ensconsed in a quiet corner, and shielded from obser- vation by the half-open door. "Npw," said he, seating hirriself beside her, "this is pleasant. Here we can enjoy the inestimable privilege of ERNEST GREY. 173 * being silent when we like, a privilege I think you ought to appreciate,, after the volleys of compliments you have received and replied to." " Oh, compliments in a ball-room, like bon bons at a Carnival, are flung at random, and may be had for the picking up," replied Agatha. " For my part, I feel much as Moliere's Misanthrope felt towards those ' Grand faiseurs de protestations ' those ' Obligeans diseurs d' inutiles paroles ' who are only perfect in ' L 'art de ne vous rien dire avec de grand discours.' I wish there was more sincerity in our every-day life." " Excuse me for one moment," said Mr. Hamilton, hastening to the supper-room and returning instantly. " You have had no refreshments, and I fancy a few grapes will not be unacceptable, after your devotions to Terpsichore." On the plate he presented was a cluster of grapes that might have tempted an anchorite. Admiringly Agatha held up the semi-transparent fruit to the light, and in doing so exposed to view a rosy-cheeked, Lilliputian lady-apple. For a moment her equanimity was disturbed, and in blush- ing confusion she replaced the grapes, but the next she blushed still more deeply, with mortification at her folly in 174 THE PROPOSAL. giving a serious turn to what was begun in jest. Taking up the apple, she said, laughingly " So you have adjudged the Apple of Discord to me. I presume you were afraid to award it to Emily, after the fair notice you got. Now if I should hold you to the bond, and exact my pound of flesh, what a dilemma you would be in ; and I really feel half-inclined to do it ; but you look so penitent that I cannot bear to punish." " You mistake, Miss Clements ; I am thoroughly im- penitent." This was said in a low, deep whisper, that sounded like anything but a jest. " Then in consideration of your frank, self-accusing avowal, I will remit the penalty," she replied hastily " and in return for my magnanimity you shall ask me to dance." " One moment, Miss Clements," he said, detaining her as she rose to go " grant me one moment." Agatha resumed her seat. He was strangely agitated for one so self-possessed in general so agitated that he could neither conceal nor control his emotions. Agatha, with a woman's intuitive perception, understood him at once, and, with a woman's ready sympathy, shared his agitation. " You wished just now, Miss Clements," he said, " that there was more sincerity in our every-day life. I will not ERNEST GREY. 175 say to yon, be sincere with me, for that you cannot help being it is your nature, but I entreat you " A peal of laughter at his ear made Mr. Hamilton pause, and he then discovered that, while pre-occupied with their own feelings, a party had come up, unobserved, and taking their position on the other side of the open door, com- menced criticizing, in no gentle spirit, all the arrangements of the ball. Anxious to spare them the mortification of knowing that their observations had been overheard by a member of their host's family, Agatha remained perfectly still, hoping that they would soon join the dancers. But her hope was vain, for after exhausting that subject they took up one more congenial. " As for that flippant cousin of theirs-, she is a perfect coquette," remarked one. " At all events, she does not conceal her real character she does not play the prude, and seek to gain admiration by declining it," said a voice that Mr. Hamilton started to hear. He glanced uneasily at Miss Clements, and perceived, to his dismay, that she too recognized the voice of his relative, Mrs. Alworthy. " A capital dodge, that," said a gentlemen of the party "a good many battles have been, won, by retreating, since the days of the Roman Three." " Oh ! Agatha Clements is a tactician," said Miss Al- worthy, bitterly. 176 MALICE OF FRIENDS. " Smylie, poor fellow ! seems to admire her tactics. He is dreadfully smitten in that quarter, I can tell you. He is a gone case." " Oh, she only keeps on Smylie as a pis aller," said one of the Miss Alworthys ; " she has other game a-foot. Smylie may be handsome, and admired, and all that, but he is not rich enough for her." " Nor old enough," said the other sister, with a malicious laugh " don't forget that, Letty. 'Lea plus vieux sout pour elle les plus charmans' if they have got money." " The fact of the matter is," said Mrs. Al worthy, deci- sively, " that Agatha Clements will never marry Smylie. I don't say but she may like him well enough she keeps him running after her all the time, when another young girl would give him to understand that his attentions were thrown away. But her real object is to incite George to propose for her." " Mr. Hamilton is a lucky man if he has gained her affections," said a gentleman who had not before spoken. " Affections, indeed ! affection for his money," was the answer. " She can't love George, for he is almost double her age, but trust me, he won't have to ask her a sscond time. Any one can see how attentive she is she has eyes ERNEST GREY. 177 and ears but for him. I saw them leave the ball-room half an hour ago, and I shouldn't be surprised if they were in some corner by themselves, and if some fortunate accident doesn't prevent, George may have already gone too far to retreat. If either of my daughters paid such attentions to any man, I would blush for them." "I move that we adjourn to the ball-room," said the gentleman who had first spoken. "They are having a cotillon, and we had better hurry." That all acquiesced in this, was evident by the rustling and fluttering that succeeded, as the ladies smoothed down their ruffled plumages, and the party was soon lost amid the brilliant crowd that thronged the ball-room. During the foregoing conversation, Agatha sat as if stupefied, her varying color alone proving that she heard every word. She was only conscious of one wish that she was alone. How could she bear to look at Mr. Ham- ilton again, he knowing that she had heard it all how tolerate the slightest attention from him how bring her- self to treat him as a friend. To increase her mortification and dismay, she felt that Mr. Hamilton's good opinion was of more consequence to her than that of all her other friends collectively, and that, unconsciously to herself, she had cherished for him a feeling warmer than friendship. With what bitter self-contempt she acknowledged it to her own heart ! Was it possible that her conduct gave nny color 178 MALICE OF FEIENDS. to such degrading suspicions ? No, that was impossible it was too humiliating even to suppose. Mr. Hamilton's mortification and embarrassment were not less than her's ; but before the conversation was at an end, his resolution was taken. He felt that hesita- tion now would be insulting- that delay was impossible that he must speak now, or be silent hereafter. If he could have feigned ignorance, he would have done it, for he feared that the irritation of wounded feelings would be unfavorable to him ; but he could not, for he knew that she was aware he had heard the entire conversation. As soon as the last of the party disappeared, he turned to address Miss Clements ; but to his surprise she was no- where to be seen. He sought her in the adjoining rooms she was not there ; in the supper-room he could see no trace of her ; and at length he returned, reluctantly, to the ball-room. He had hardly entered, before he saw the object of his search engaged in an animated conversation with Mr. Smylie, during the pauses of the dance. Several times that night he endeavored to approach her, but she appeared to divine his intentions intuitively, and eluded him so quietly, that he actually doubted whether she had seen him. Finding every effort foiled, by chance or design, he deemed it useless to remain. " George, is it possible you are going ?" said Mrs. Al- ERNEST GREY. 179 worthy, tapping him on the arm. " I didn't think you were so easily discouraged." " You must speak plainly, madam, or I cannot under- stand you," he replied. "I am getting obtuse as I get old." "Old ! ridiculous !" said Mrs. Alworthy, laughing. " How absurd. No man is old who is unmarried. Why have you left the field to Mr. Srnylie ? Miss Clements and he are making themselves quite remarkable. ludeed, to speak seriously, George, I think you have acted wisely : she is a thorough flirt." " Acted wisely ! as how ?" " Of course you know very well what I mean ; you need not affect ignorance with me acted wisely in not going too far." "Mrs. Alworthy," said Mr. Hamilton, sternly, "your ideas of wisdom differ from mine materially. To gain such a heart as Miss Clements' would be my highest ambition ; for it I would make any sacrifice, undergo any probation, and if genuine affection goes for anything in these days, I may hope to succeed. I shall try, however." " Trust me, you have only to try. I don't wish to flatter you, but you have so many advantages you are so wealthy." " Name it not !" said Mr. Hamilton, impatiently. " It would be inoperative in this case. That slander upon 180 MALICE OF FRIENDS. woman, it ill becomes a woman's tongue to utter. Still, I agree with you, that hearts can be bought, but I believe they must be paid for in kind." And he moved towards the door. " I feel gratified that you have given me your confidence, George. You may rest assured I will not betray it ; but I would advise you not to be too rash. Take time and consider." " You need not keep secret what I have said to you. I do not seek to disguise my love for Miss Clements. I am willing that every one in the ball-room should know it," he replied ; and saluting his disconcerted relative, he left the room. Agatha saw him depart with pleasure, for his presence imposed on her a painful restraint. He only was aware of the mortification she endured, and when he was gone, all necessity for affecting what she did not feel, vanished. It was with a feeling of relief she observed the guests depart, and pleading fatigue, to escape from Emily, she sought her own room, and wept bitter tears of outraged pride and wounded feeling. CHAPTER XXI. AN UNEXPECTED MEETING THE KNIGHT OF THE UM- BRELLA SORROW AND REMORSE. WHEN Richard Kane gave up his pursuit of Ernest Grey on the memorable night of their last meeting, he sought his home, determined, if possible, to find him out the next day, or at least gain a clue to his whereabouts. That he should by one thoughtless phrase have added to sorrow already overpowering, filled him with poignant regret, and he could know no peace until he had made amends. For three or four nights in succession he lingered around the corner of Franklin and Broadway, but that miserable face, illumined by wild, despairing eyes, gleaming like dungeon-lights, came not again. At last, having failed in every effort, he gave up the search, and tried to believe that Grey had procured work, and that his sufferings were over. But still it weighed upon his mind he could not banish it. Ernest Grey, as he had last seen him, haunted him night and day, and those reproachful words "if you had not known me, Richard Kane !" were forever ringing in his 182 AN UNEXPECTED MEETING. ears. He grew silent and thoughtful, his light-hearted laugh and merry jests were not heard in the work-room as. of old, and his companions remarked that "Dick" was changing, and that not for the better. About two weeks after this, Kane, who was working up town, was returning home hi the dusk of the evening, when a woman's voice reached his ear that he felt certain he had heard before, and that under circumstances that left a deep impression on his mind. Two women were in advance of him, talking very low, but the tone of the voices could be distinctly heard, and as he listened, he felt convinced that one was not unknown to him. Passing them quickly, he stopped at the next corner, and waited for them to come up. One glance was enough to assure him that the younger of the two was the person he had saved in Broadway. True, she looked healthier and prettier, and her dress, though very plain, was more comfortable, but still he knew her at once. Richard was too glad of the opportunity, and had wished for it too often, to let it pass unimproved. Holding out his hand with the frank cordiality of an old acquaintance, he said to Lizzy " I think you and I have met before She turned round quickly, looked in his face for a mo- ment, and then smiling with pleasure, shook his proffered hand, saying - " Yes, fortunately for me, we did." ERNEST GREY. 183 " Then you must be Richard Kane," said Margaret. " Yes, that's my name," he replied, a little astonished at her familiarity with it. "It was on the handle of your umbrella," said Lizzy, explaining ; " and although we were not sure that it was your name, we always spoke of you as Richard Kane." " And now that you have got into the way of it, I hope you'll keep to it, for I like the sound of my own name.'' "To tell the truth," said Margaret, "I have been so accustomed to hearing of Richard Kane all the time, that anything else would sound strange to me. I am afraid I wouldn't know Mr, Kane." " I am afraid I wouldn't know him either," said Richard, laughing. " However, I don't intend to make his acquaint- ance he might be too uppish for me." " Yery true," said Margaret ; " so he might, and for us likewise. What do you think, Lizzy ?" "I am so pleased to see Mr. Kane again," she replied, " that I can think of nothing else." " Mr. Kane !" repeated Richard. " Well, if you are pleased to see him, I'll claim acquaintance with him right away." " Pleased !" said Lizzy. "Oh, far more than pleased ; I have so often wished to thank you for your kindness. Only this evening we were speaking of you, and wishing to meet you." 184 THE KNIGHT OF THE UMBRELLA. "That is, you were wishing for it, and I was wishing that you might get your wish," said Margaret. " Besides, to tell the whole truth, I wanted to see the ' Knight of the Umbrella' that's what I call you," she added, turn- ing to Kane ; " for Lizzy talked so much about your daring feat at the Broadway crossing, that my curiosity was roused." " She did eh ?" said Kane. " Well, I thought she was too frightened to know who saved her, for she shook like an aspen, and could hardly speak." "You didn't give me time to speak," said Lizzy, "for you ran off as quick as you changed the umbrellas." Richard laughed as he remembered the way he had managed matters that morning, and the dashing style in which he had effected the change. " How I wish I had that umbrella with me now," added Lizzy, " for I may not have a chance of seeing you again." " It would be no use having it," said Richard, " for I wouldn't take it. Only for that umbrella you would have forgotten all about me long ago. I am not such a fool as to take it ; and as for seeing me again, there'll be no chance about it next time. I never trust to chance." " How can you help yourself?" said Margaret. " By helping you," was the jesting reply. " I'll see you wn children. " I'm blest, but I'd like to, but I can't do it, my little man." " If I was a big man," replied Steve, " I'd make him." " Come here, my son," said Ernest, calmly, " and listen to me. I am going away for a long time, Steve ; but when I come back I'll go home with you. Won't that do ? and you'll be a good child while I'm away ; and if I should never see yon again, my boy," Ernest paused abruptly, for his voice faltered " God bless you, Steve ! Now go." " I'll stay with you," cried Stere, grasping him tightly by the arm. " I'd rather stay. Do let me, father." " Take him away, Mrs. Fitzgerald, I beg," said Ernest, in a voice husky with emotion " take him away. I won't ask you to be kind to Mm j but the conviction that you will, is my only consolation." " Don't fret about him," she replied. " Kind to him ! why, then, indeed, I will. Who could be anything else ? And keep up your spirits, Mr. Grey, and remember tha-t you have your child to live for. . 280 MURDER OF PRANK HILL. " A ca,t may look at a king," said the man, doggedly. The words were scarcely out of his mouth, when the keeper's heavy club struck him on the shoulder, and made him reel. " How dare you give me such an answer ?" roared Smith, furious at the outrage on his dignity. " We must teach you manners, I see ; we must give you a little extra punishment." "Punish away," was the reckless answer, "just as much as you have a mind to. I don't mind punishment no more than nothin' at all." " You don't eh ?" said Smith, vindictively. " Very well, we'll see what metal you're made of. Here," he said, addressing the under-keepers, "take these men and shower them one after another five barrels for every one except these," pointing to No. 475 and Hill "give them six." Eight men were before Hill, and as he saw this barrier gradually disappear, his fear became frenzy. At last his turn came, and the keepers pounced upon him, and seized him by the arm. He shrank from them as if the cold of the water had already reached him, and appealed to Smith, protesting his innocence, and entreating to be spared. His entreaties made no more impression on him than the sigh of the wind ; he listened to them for a time, patiently enough, and then ordered the men to take him away. ERNEST GREY. 281 " Save me, Grey :" he exclaimed, imploringly, extending his hand in the firm belief that he could help him. " Save me, for God's sake !" " I will," said Ernest, determined to put a stop to the wholesale cruelty, by taking the blame upon himself. " Let him go. I did it." A gleam of joy shot athwart Hill'a emaciated face, as the certainty of escape became apparent to his bewildered mind. " So you did it," said Smith, eyeing Grey with malignant pleasure. "You're the poet. Very well. We'll do as we would be done by we'll distinguish you, you d d canting, hypocritical rascal. Don't let him take that collar off you must wear it," he added, " until you make better verses than these. Take him away, and don't forget about the collar." Anxious to secure another victim, Smith's eyes wandered round the circle, and rested upon Frank Hill, who had slunk behind, almost out of view. " And so you knew all the time who wrote it," he said, lashing himself into anger. " Perhaps you wrote part of it yourself." Frank eagerly assured him that he never wrote a line of it, and never knew who did. But if he spoke with the tongue of an angel, it would not have availed him, for fron the first Smith had determined to find or make an excuse 282 MURDER OF FRANK HILL. | for implicating him. If he had escaped, the punishment of every individual in the room would have given him no pleasure. Poor Frank Hill ! your sufferings are nearly over. A few hours more, and the cruelty of keepers cannot affect you. More dead than alive, he was dragged to the bath, showered, and thrown into his cell. What he suffered during that night, is known only to God. There, alone, without a' kind voice to whisper comfort to his departing soul, without a loving hand to wipe the death damps from his brow, or wet his parching lips, without an ear to catch his last faltering accents, Frank Hill departed, his dying struggles unseen by any mortal eye, his dying moans waken- ing no echo in any human heart. And yet but a few miles away, iu a country homestead, beneath whose eaves birds build their nests, and by whose side runs a gurgling brook he knew it well are tranquilly sleeping many who would lay down their lives for him. Alas ! what avails it ? Did his mind revert to it or them ? Perhaps in. thought he died at home ; perhaps, at his last hour, the prison and its attendant horrors vanished, and were replaced by that scene of external pleasantness and internal peace. Morning dawned warm and bright ; the broad rolling Hudson flashed beneath the rays of the rising sun, arid Nature started from her nocturnal slumber to greet him ; ERNEST GREY. 283 but within that narrow cell, through whose grated window he poured a flood of light, lay one whom only the Sun of Righteousness can resuscitate one who fell a victim, not tq the errors of one man, but the faults of a system," not to the brutality of a keeper, but the guilty supineness of his fellow-men, and the cruel indifference with which they turn from everything that " is not their business." CHAPTER XXXI. THE RELEASE FROM SING-SING DICK THE BURGLAR THE DREAM DETECTION OF THE BURGLARS GREY IS FATALLY WOUNDED. THE application to the Governor for pardon was successful ; the term of imprisonment was reduced to six months, and at the expiration of that period Ernest Grey stood once more in the streets of New York, a free man. Prior to leaving the prison, he had received a letter from ^,lr. Clements, enclosing some money, and directing him to pro- ceed to his house without delay ; but though his heart yearned to see Steve, he adhered to the resolution he had previously formed, of leaving his native state. While looking about for an humble lodging-house in which to spend the night, a man passed, and catching a glimpse of his face, turned suddenly and slapped him on the shoulder. It was Dick the Burglar. Warmly Ernest grasped the extended hand, and thanked him for the sea- sonable relief he had afforded him in his extremity. To this Dick turned a deaf ear, but insisted that he should ERNEST GREY. 285 go with him, and tell him all about his old comrades who were iu prison. Hearing he was alone, Ernest consented, and the greater part of the night was spent in relating prison anecdotes, which Dick never wearied of hearing. At last, when all was told, he flung himself on a heap of straw, motioned to Ernest to do the same, and was soon fast asleep. For a while Ernest remained awake, laying out his plans for the future, and indulging in fond anticipations concern- ing Steve, but at length he yielded to the drowsy influence of the time and place, and slumbered where he sat. In sleep, his life lay spread before him like a map : he could retrace the windings of his course through many years ; incidents long since forgotten came up before him, and the friends of former days crowded round him. Again he was a school-boy, ardent and ambitious, first hi every feat of boyish daring ; again he hid among the rustling grass, or the umbrageous foliage of the forest trees ; again inhaled the fragrance of the new-mown hay, or drank deep draughts of limpid water from the well. Suddenly the country vanished, and within a Christian temple by his side stood a gentle, blue-eyed girl, in bridal veil and robes of purest white. It was his wedding-day, and with proud fondness he gazed upon the blushing face and graceful form of her he loved, but even as he gazed the features became hollow and cadaverous, the form emaciated, the eyes glazed and THE DREAM. filmy, a convulsive shudder shook her feeble frame, and she Iny still in death. Then with the rapidity and incongruity of a dream, the scene changed, and he found himself, he knew not how nor wherefore, iu a magnificent apartment brilliantly lighted. On the floor a man lay extended, and from his side the warm life-blood trickled on the carpet, staining the pureness of its ivory ground. There was some- thing in the shape and size of the wounded man that made his heart throb wildly. With a bound he cleared the room and stood beside him, looked eagerly into the upturned features, and with a cry of horror recognized his own. The shock awoke him. Dick was still asleep ; the candle still burning, but dimly, for it was at the socket, and the greyish light of early morning was struggling with the retreating darkness. Ernest had intended to leave New York that day, but, an irresistible desire to visit the house where his wife died, and to look on the outside of that which sheltered his child, took possession of him, and he determined to gratify it. Towards evening he might be seen wandering up and down before the wretched habitation that was her last earthly abode, and when the lamp was lit, drawing close to the windows, and scanning the faces of its inmates, to ascertain if sorrow was among them. It was a beautiful summer night. " The balmiest sigh that vernal zephyr ever breathed in evening's ear," was ERNEST GREY. 287 murmuring through the trees that shaded Mr. Clements' resi- dence. On the balcony a pleasant party was assembled, chat- ting and laughing in all the unrestrained freedom of familiar intercourse. Among them was one privileged person, a bright-eyed, laughing boy, who ran in and out as he listed, romped with Emily, or placed himself fearlessly between Mr. Clements' knees, to watch the fire-flies glancing through the dark green leaves. Allowing for the difference of season, it was such a scene as Ernest Grey had looked on six months ago ; and now again he was present. He saw and understood it all. That child was his. No change of dress could deceive the father's eye, the father's heart. He would have known him under the robes of royalty, or the rags of mendicancy. It was his Steve. "\Vith a heart overflowing with gratitude, to Him who out of evil bringeth good, Ernest Grey looked and listened, noted the unconstrained freedom of the boy's movements, and with swimming eyes observed the caresses lavished on him by all. The lights were all extinguished, the sounds of busy life were still, yet Ernest Grey remained so lost to all sur- rounding objects, that he^ did not for some time observe two stealthy figures, moving so noiselessly that they awoke no footfall, examining Mr. Clements' house on every side, as if seeking for the easiest mode of ingress. But once his attention was aroused, he observed them narrowly, and 288 DETECTION OF THE BURGLARS. immediately became aware that they were burglars, intent upon forcing an entrance. His mind was made up at once : he determined to remain perfectly still, and watching their movements until they effected an entrance, make his way into the house, and act afterwards as circumstances would render most prudent. In an incredibly short space of time they disappeared. With a light, rapid step, Ernest fol- lowed ; he paused for a moment at the basement door, which, as he calculated, was open to facilitate their egress, then entered, closed the door gently, and hastened up the basement stairs. The two men were in the parlor. Each carried a dark lantern, and wore masks which partly concealed their fea- tures. Still Ernest thought that one was familiar to him, and he endeavored to catch the tones of his voice, to ascer- tain if his suspicions were correct. Was it indeed his host of the preceding night ? If so, he would warn him to escape before he alarmed the inmates, for gratitude he thought demanded no less. "Dick," said the other ruffian, in a guarded whisper, " we're losing time ; there's nothing here up stairs is the place." " Come along then, Tom," replied Dick, in accents there was no mistaking. " Follow, I'll lead the way." "If you attempt to go further, I'll alarm the house," - x \ I tsi Pi-.>. \-A 71 IN SLEEP, HIS LIFE LAY SPKEA1) HEFOHF. HI>t LIKE A MAP. ERNEST GEEY. 289 sternly uttered Ernest, emerging from the gloom as he spoke, and barring their passage to the stairs. In momentary alarm the burglars fell back, but discover- ing that they had but one to contend with, they instantly rallied and sprang upon Ernest. He had no difficulty in eluding their grasp, for they were encumbered with the lanterns. With one bound he was up the stairs, but Tom seeing the imminence of the danger, flung away the lantern and followed. He soon overtook him, seized him in his iron grasp, and dragged him down. " Don't kill him, Tom," pleaded the other ; " I know the man." "If he was your father I'd do it," he savagely retorted. "This game's up through him." And drawing a bowie- knife from his belt, he plunged it into his side. Ernest felt that it was his death-blow, and, determined to effect his purpose, he summoned all his strength and shouted aloud. Before the echo of his voice died away, the tramp of hurrying feet was heard, and the burglars fled, affrighted. What followed was a blank to Ernest. When he awoke to consciousness, Mr. Clements was bending over him, and Robert was endeavoring to staunch the wound in his side. No other was in the room, for Mr. Clements, as soon as he recognized Grey, dismissed all, fearing that his son, in the first paroxysm of emotion, might betray himself. 'Twas fortunate he did so, for his remorse burst all bounds, and 290 GREY IS FATALLY WOUNDED. he loudly denounced himself as the murderer of the dying man. " Hush 1" said Mr. Clements, warningly ; " he hears you." But. prudential considerations were of no more weight than a feather or rather, they were unthought of the one engrossing feeling absorbed and overpowered every other, and Robert poured into the ear of the wondering man his tale of sin and suffering. Several times Ernest strove to stop him, but he might as well talk to the winds ; the storm of passion was too mighty to be controlled ; the tumult of his soul could not be allayed by words. " Now can you forgive me ?" inquired Robert, bending low to catch the answer. Ernest grasped his hands, and pressed them to his heart. "Forgive," he replied, turning his eyes from father to son " yes, from my heart, as I hope to be forgiven. "What you have done for Steve would wipe out ten times that. Oh, Steve 1 Steve !" he added, dwelling lovingly on the word ; "if I could but see you." " Bring him, Robert," said Mr. Clements, hastily, " and return with him alone." "Wait," said Ernest, entreatingly, laying his hand on Robert's arm to detain him ; " I would tell you what brought me here before you go." ERNEST GREY. 291 The tale was soon told, and Robert proceeded for Steve. " Heaven preserve us ! what is this ?" he exclaimed, recoiling with horror, as a volume of smoke poured into the room through the open door. "The house is on fire 1" CHAPTER XXXII. THE BURNING BUILDING RESCUE OF AGATHA CLEMENTS AND LIZZY ROBERTS RICHARD KANE, THE FIREMAN. WHEN Dick gained the open street he turned to look for his companion, and found himself alone, but, fearing pur- suit, he hurried on, leaving his accomplice to shift for himself. In the meantime, Tom, who was furiously exas- perated at the disappointment, neglected his safety to obtain revenge, and, in place jof securing a retreat, set fire to the basement floor in several places, and then hastened from the doomed building, his brutal features wearing a smile of demoniac malignity. Soon after, a light smoke issued from the basement door, which grew, gradually, denser and blacker, and while Mr. Clements and Robert were engaged with Grey, the fire progressed rapidly, and assumed a threatening appearance. The alarm was soon given, the pealing of fire-bells broke the stillness of the night, and almost simultaneously with the first stroke was heard the sound of rolling wheels and tramping feet. Then came the loud, hoarse cries of the ERNEST GREY. 293 hurrying firemen, urging each other on to their utmost speed, growing louder and hoarser as they advanced. On they swept, their eagerness increasing as they neared the burning building, and as they came within sight of the fearful element, it was their delight to encounter and their glory to subdue, the* wild, exulting shout that burst from them resembled the charging cry of an army rushing to battle. With what marvelous skill and celerity they clear the sharpest angle, and dash straight on with break-neck speed in their endeavors to head off a rival company, and now, with a glow of exultation, they pause before the burning house. In rapid succession several companies arrive, dragging heavy engines, or scaling-ladders, or hose carts, and in- stantly the work proceeds. The ground is covered with a net-work of hose, which but a moment before lay coiled up like sleeping serpents, and through these is poured con- tinuous streams of water up'on the flames. The first efforts of the firemen were directed to saving the stairs, and in this way keeping open a means of escape for those who might be inside. When Mr. Clements and Robert became aware of the danger, they hastened to awake all the members of the household, and apprize them of it. This done, Robert returned to the wounded man, lifted him in his arms, with as much ease as he would have lifted Steve on an ordinary 294 THE BURNING BUILDING. occasion, and despite liis entreaties and remonstrances, con- veyed him to a place of safety. In the meantime, Mr. Clements, whose habitual self-possession did not forsake him in the moment of peril, collected his family and servants together, and impressed on them the necessity of following his directions. To attempt getting out by the front stairs was worse than madness, it was certain death, for they were enveloped in flames ; but it happened, fortunately, that the fire had not communicated with the back stairs leading to the garden, and by that way lay their only hope of escape. Keeping close to the ground, that they might breathe more freely, they hastened towards the door, some so bereft of their senses by terror that they knew not which way to turn, and if left to themselves, would inevitably have perished. They were almost out of dan- ger, when Agatha remembered, with a thrill of horror, that Lizzy Roberts had delayed the night before to finish some work for her mother, and that in the confusion and alarm she had been totally forgotten. Without uttering a word to any one of her intentions, she held back and let all pass her, then rapidly but cautiously retraced her steps. Arrived at the spot from which the party started, she looked round in terror, for smoke encompassed her on every side, and she knew not which way to turn, for to advance or retreat seemed equally dangerous. Blinded and almost suffocated, she hurried forward at random, and ERNEST GREY. 295 found to her dismay that she had made a circuit, and was again at the original starting point. Her brain reeled, her senses forsook her, and she fell, exhausted, on the ground. " Any one down there ?" shouted a voice from above, and immediately a fireman, so begrimed with smoke that his mother would not have known him, dashed down the smouldering stairs, and caught her in his arms. With the coolness of one accustomed to such scenes, he surveyed his position, then struck into the right path, as if by instinct, and paused not until he laid his burden on a seat in the garden. The fresh air revived her almost immediately, and with consciousness returned the memory of her danger, and the cause that led to it. Turning to her deliverer, she exclaimed " Is she safe ?" " Yes, yes," he replied, soothingly, thinking that terror had affected her reason. " Thank God !" she said, fervently. " Poor Lizzy !" " What Lizzy ?" inquired the man, in accents of terror. " Speak, for God's sake ! speak." " Lizzy Roberts." " Heaven and earth !" he exclaimed, clenching his hands so violently together that the blood started to the finger- nails. " Where is she ? think a mistake now is a murder." 296 BESCUE OF LTZZY ROBERTS. " Fourth floor, front room," answered Agatha, quietly and promptly, for the sight of the man's agony had aroused her. " I need not say, save her, but can I do anything ?" she added. "Tell them to put ladders to the window." And he was gone. Keeping to the rear as long as it was practicable, for it was least injured by the fire, and fearlessly facing the dangers he could not evade, he reached the top of the house. With a feeling of relief akin to transport, he saw a female figure kneeling by the window. "Lizzy! Lizzy! thank God I have found you!" he exclaimed, passionately. She knew his voice, and welcomed him with a cry of gladness. " Oh, why did you come here, dear, dear Richard ?" "To live or die with you," he crjed, with a concen- trated vehemence of passion that disdained all restraint. " Lizzy, can you not will you not understand that I love you ?" " Up there, Dick ?" called the foreman, through his trumpet. "Aye," shouted Richard in reply, appearing at the window and directing them where to place the ladder. When it became known that one of the firemen had ventured into the burning building to rescue a woman, the EENEST GREY. 297 excitement outside became intense. A crowd can look calmly on the destruction of any edifice, however magnifi- cent it is only a spectacle, though a sublime one, that may affect the imagination, but cannot touch the heart, for it is wanting in human interest. In this spirit of indiffer- ence the multitude, ignorant that any one was in danger, had looked on the destruction of Mr. Clements' splendid resi- dence, except when some instance of reckless daring on the part of the firemen aroused their feelings, and made their nerves tingle with sympathetic terror. But now with what different feelings they gazed, knowing that a moment might decide the fate of two human beings, that each volume of smoke that rolled upwards might bear with it their last breath. The fire has reached the roof, the spiral flame ascends in columns, but with a swiftness equal to its own, the watery jet enwreathes it, and they sink together. A cloud of smoke, black as Erebus and thick as Stygian woof, bursts forth, and the spectators strain their eyes in vain to pierce it. All is darkness, but as it clears away, Richard Kane is seen on the ladder, one hand holding it firmly, the other clasping a young girl round the waist. Slowly they de- scend, very slowly, Richard whispering words of encourage- ment to his companion, while his gaze is fixed on the build- " ing, for well he knows it is near its fall. They are half- way down, and now, with a terrific crash, the roof falls in. 298 RICHARD KANE. THE FIREMAN. A cry of horror bursts from the crowd, for the walls totter, and, with a shudder, they involuntarily close their eyes, dreading to look upon the fearful tragedy they think inevitable ; but the next glance shows the walls still stand- ing, the ladder still in its resting-place, and Richard and Lizzy still slowly descending. The multitude, awed by the imminence of their danger, hardly breathe ; with fearful interest they watch their pro- gress, and with a sensation of relief mark each additional step that separates them from their appalling foe. A moment more, and a spontaneous cheer proclaims that suspense is at an end. They are safe, they have touched / the earth, but the revulsion is too much for Lizzy's over- wrought feelings, and she finds relief in insensibility. Richard raises her gently, bears his burden to a neighbor- ing house, and on the first symptoms of returning conscious- ness hastens back to his post. Steadily the men work their engines and ply their hose, as fresh and vigorous as if they had but commenced. Some are on the tottering walls, others " in the skeleton window pits," whence they direct a continuous stream upon the burning mass below. Overhead, the deep-blue summer sky glows like a furnace, and the whirling smoke that wreathes up is tinged with a lurid light, while at intervals the darting flame leaps forth like lightning from a thunder cloud, but vanishes as swiftly. ERNEST GREY. 299 All hope of saving the house has been long since aban- doned, and the firemen's efforts are directed to confining the fire within its present limits. As soon as the crowd became aware that this object was accomplished, they began to disperse, and in a short time the firemen and a few stragglers alone remained. CHAPTER XXXIII RICHARD KANE'S LOVE THE WILL AND THE WAY THE UNSET TEA-TABLE THE DISCOVERY. WHEN the fire was completely extinguished, Richard Kane hastened to tell Margaret all that had occurred, lest she might be alarmed by hearing exaggerated accounts from others. Though shocked and horrified at the danger he and Lizzy had passed through, and the sufferings Mr. Clements' family had endured, she lost not a moment in useless complaints, but set off to see Lizzy, and make inquiries concerning Miss Clements and the different mem- bers of the household. " I must turn you out now, Richard, for I want to lock the door," she said, dangling the key on her finger ; " but come early in the evening." And Richard did come early, very early, and found Margaret alone. "Don't be frightened," she said, observing the uneasy glance he cast around the room. " Lizzy is well, but she was so nervous and agitated that I prevailed upon her to ERNEST GREY. 301 lie down and rest. She has been sleeping an hour, and I expect will awaken quite refreshed. But tell me all about the fire. You received no injury ?" " Xo, not a scratch ;" and he proceeded to tell her all he knew about the fire, the manner in which it was supposed to have originated, the progress it made before it was discovered, and the value of the property destroyed. " But you haven't told how you rescue'd Miss Clements and Lizzy. I asked Lizzy herself, but the very idea of it seemed to revive all her terrors, so I dropped the subject. I question if she retains any clear recollection of it." " Do you think so ?" said Richard, musingly. " I think it is very probable." " Margaret," he said, suddenly, after a long silence, "7 made up my mind to speak to Lizzy openly and plainly, but this fire has unsettled all my plans." " How so ?" exclaimed Margaret, amazed. " What could happen better for you ?" " Then you think it would bias Lizzy in my favor that I would have a better chance to-day than yesterday ?" " I think it very likely," replied Margaret, smiling. " Ask and see." " Xo, Margaret," he said, vehemently. " It's love, not gratitude, I want. What I did for Lizzy, any member of our company would have done. I claim nothing on that 302 BICHABD KANE'S LOVE. score ; I would have done it, if I had never seen her face before I would have done it for a child for any one. It was only a chance that I was there, and not another ; and to owe her love to a chance " " Well, wait until her enthusiasm in your favor has abated, until her gratitude has cooled down," said Mar- garet, coolly. " Wait for a month or a year, and then you can speak." " You think me a fool, Margaret, I see." " I don't think any such thing, Richard. I admire the wisdom of your patience very much." Richard bit his lip, his usual practice when annoyed, and asked her what she meant. " I'll tell you frankly," she replied, " for I never could appreciate the delicacy and refinement that would lose a friend before it would condescend to explain. But, first, do you for I begin to doubt it do you really love Lizzy ?" "Do I !" he exclaimed, with indignant impetuosity " do I love my life ? What a question ! Do I love her ? Yes, better than I love it, a hundred times. She is the dearest thing to me on earth. I would live for her, labor for her, die for her." " Would you make a sacrifice for her ?" " No 5 that I couldn't do to sacrifice anything for her would be no sacrifice. Yes, Margaret, there is one sacri- ERNEST GREY. 303 fice I could sacrifice my love if it was disagreeable to her even that I could do. To make her happy I would consent never to see her more ; though to be happy with- out her would be an impossibility. Is that love ? If it is, then I love her." " Well, if I loved, I would try and ascertain if my love was returned." "And have I not, time and again? But no matter what I said, Lizzy would not understand. I don't believe," he added, with bitterness,. " she can love." " Then you cannot blame her for what is simply a defect of her nature." " Nonsense !" said Richard, walking across the room with a firm, rapid step ; " Nonsense ! Margaret, defect or no defect, if love can create love, I'll make her love me." " Success attend your laudable endeavors ; but take my advice, Richard, and speak to her at once." Appeal to her while her feelings are excited by the occurrence of this morning 1 Present my bill for services rendered, and demand to be paid in love ! No, Margaret, no. If I am rejected, well : if I am accepted, for Heaven's sake ! let it be for love." " Well, take your own course," said Margaret ; " but do not do Lizzy the injustice to believe for one moment that she would barter her heart for her life. I advised you to speak to her at once, not because her feelings are excited, 304 RICHARD KANE'S LOVE. but because your common danger may have made her aware of the state of her own heart. Trust me, if she ever loved you she found it out then, but, as I said before, take your own course.'' And here tire conversation ended. Little did either dream that that conversation was overheard. Yet so it was, for the apartment in which Lizzy lay opened into the sitting-room, and as they raised their voices when excited, or interested, the entire gist of it became known to her. When her waking ear first caught the sound of Richard's voice, the desire to see and thank him im- pelled her to hurry in, but the sense of the conversation soon reached her, and then her only course was to counter- feit sleep. As Richard's heart was laid open to her in its passion and waywardness, and as she became aware of his great love for her, her own throbbed with a feeling of exulting gladness equally new and delicious. It was sweet to be so beloved. The few words he had addressed to her when death seemed inevitable, and which she had brooded over ever since, were not then, as she feared they might be, a temporary ebullition of feeling, forced from him by sur- rounding circumstances ; but the overflowing of a full heart, stirred by violent emotion. As she listened, the quiet fervor of her love seemed dull and cold beside the passionate .ardor of his, and she reproached herself for not loving him enough. "Why let him suffer when one word ERNEST GREY. 305 from her comd make him happy. Lizzy rose, determined to force an explanation before he left, for her happiness was incomplete unless he shared it. She entered, noise- lessly, and stood for a moment, stilling the tumult of her spirit, before she advanced. They were both at the win- dow, Margaret working, and Richard gazing down the street. Without speaking a word she crossed the room, caught Richard's hands in her's, and forgetting everything save the fearful danger he had encountered for her sake, pressed them to her lips, murmuring " Richard, dear Richard." Richard sprang to his feet as if a bombshell had ex- ploded beside him, and would have committed some act of folly, had not Lizzy added " I owe my life to you again." He muttered some unintelligible reply of which she could only hear the words " any one would have done the same." " But no one else did, Richard," she replied earnestly ; " and I am glad of it. I would rather owe my life to you than any one." " Why Lizzy ? tell me why ?" " Because because I I " love you Lizzy thought she could say ; but she overrated her resolution, and confused and blushing she turned away, adding " because you are a dear friend, Richard." 306 RICHARD KANE'S LOVE. " Well," soliloquized Margaret, " if you don't speak now, friend Richard, you shan't have a chance again in a hurry. I didn't think you were such a fool." And to turn the conversation, she inquired if he had seen any of Mr. Clements' family since the fire. ' Yes ; Mr. Clements sent for me to receive his daugh- ter's thanks for preserving her, as she said, from a fearful death, and to offer me a situation in his establishment." " And I, for whom you ran a greater risk, have no way of showing my gratitude," said Lizzy, softly. " If you had the will, Lizzy," began Richard, eagerly, his eyes beaming with new-born hope, " I could tell you the way ; but it would be asking a great deal." " Oh, Richard ! when I think of that ladder," and she shuddered as she spoke, " I feel that you cannot ask too much. What is it ? " " Nothing," moodily he replied. " Is not that thanks enough." " Yes, and more than enough among friends," inter- rupted Margaret. " Now, good folks, I am going to the grocers, for I must have something extra nice this evening, and I charge you not to be moping while I'm away, think- ing over that gloomy subject all the time. Surely you can find something else to talk about." There is nothing so hard to find as a subject of dis- course ; it is never to be had when wanted, and when ERNEST OBEY. 307 people begin to think of what they will say, they had bet- ter say nothing. This is particularly true, when the mind is occupied exclusively with one subject on which the tongue is forbidden to speak. It was so with Richard : he could not talk to Lizzy on any indifferent subject, and to conceal his embarrassment, he lifted the first book that came to hand and seemed to read. But Lizzy saw that it was a mere pretence, for his eyes never rested on it, and as she marked the despondency that overspread every feature, and remembered that one word from her would dispel it all, she involuntarily drew near him. " There is something wrong with you, Richard. Are you ill?" " Xo, Lizzy," he replied, rousing himself ; " I am quite well." She was silent for a moment, and then in tremuloas ac- cents she asked, " What have I done to you, Richard ? " " Done to me ! " he replied with impassioned bitterness. " Nothing, Lizzy, nothing. It is nothing to repel my love without seeming to be aware of it nothing to give the kindness of indifference in return for the passionate devo- tion of a true heart, and you have mine, Lizzy." " Have I ? " she said, looking up to him with a radiant face and a smile of delight. " Then I'll keep it, Rich- ard." 308 BICHAED KANE'S LOVE. " What ! " he exclaimed, recoiling in amazement too great for words. " I have a right to it, Richard," she said in a low voice, dropping her eyes and blushing to the temples ; " for for you have got mine in place of it." With a passionate exclamation of joyful surprise, Rich- ard clasped her to his heart, and kissed again and again the blushing face that was upturned to his. Confused and trembling she strove to extricate herself from his embrace, but his happiness was too sudden, too unexpected to admit of moderation, and in place of releasing her he folded his arms more lovingly "around her, and clasped her closer to his heart. " And you love me, Liz," he repeated, about the twen- tieth time, imprinting another kiss on the full ripe lips," really and truly love me." " Let me go, Richard Margaret will be here pres- ently." " Say you love me, and I will. I haven't heard you say it once." "I do." " But say it," persisted Richard " isn't it the truth, < and don't I know it," he added, with a provokingly assured smile. " I won't let you go until you say it, Liz, no mat- ter who comes." " I love you, Richard," and Lizzy blushing deeply, sw ERNEST GREY. 309 if it were her first confession, disengaged herself from his encircling arms and retreated to the window. " Sit beside me, Liz," he pleaded. " I will be guilty of no more indiscretion. " Sit here and tell me " " I have told you enough," interrupted Lizzy, smiling. " You mustn't be too exacting, Richard." " Well, sit down ; I have got something to tell you." " JS"o, no ; I must set the table what will Margaret think ? " " Whatever she likes," replied Richard, placing her forcibly in a chair, and taking a seat beside her ; and I hope she will keep away for some time, for I have a great deal to say to you." / / And he told her with the simple eloquence of true feeling, how long and truly he loved her, how useless all his efforts to conquer this love had been, and the torture her blind indifference to his passion inflicted on him. ' "You wouldn't see it, Lizzy, no matter how broad my hints, no matter how significant my manner ; you would see nothing but friendship in all I said or did, and to-day I thought for the first time, that you loved somebody else." " Richard ! " she exclaimed, with a look of tender re- proach. " And but for the unfortunate circumstance of the fire, I would have spoken frankly, but I scorned to take ad- vantage, or to seem to take advantage of such a service, 310 THE UNSET TEA-TABLE. and I determined to watch myself carefully, not to drop a word that could be construed into an appeal so much for man's resolves, but for the life of me I can't imagine how it came about." " I can," said Lizzy, smiling and blushing ; " because I determined on it, for I heard all you said to Margaret, and, indeed, Richard," she added, with simple earnestness, " when I was sure it would make you happy to know I loved you, I wished you to know it I tried to tell you two or three times, but I couldn't." " You are an angel, Lizzy, and I'm a fool that's all." " Hush ! Richard," she said, putting her hand on his mouth to enforce silence. " How loud you talk Marga- ret is coming up." Margaret entered, flushed and tired, for the basket was heavy, and she had hurried back to prepare tea. " It is quite provoking not to get all you want in one store," she said, resting the basket on a chair preparatory to unloading it. "I have been obliged to go all round for these things. Here is what you like, Lizzy cresses ; but bless me ! what is the reason you haven't set the table ? Richard will think you don't want him to stay for tea." Richard threw a sly, laughing glance at Lizzy, and said gravely " It looked very like it, I fear." " You haven't made yourself very agreeable," she said to him. ERNEST GREY. 311 " I did my best, Margaret, But by the bye, I didn't tell you, or Lizzy, all my good luck. I said Mr. Clements offered me a situation ; but I didn't add, that it is a highly responsible and lucrative one, and that I will soon be inde- pendent if I retain it." " That's excellent/' said Margaret, warmly. " Ain't it, Lizzy ? I am really delighted to hear it, Richard. Now, I suppose, you will realize all your day dreams presently about getting a house." " Yes, that I will," interrupted Richard. " And a wife ?" added Margaret. " I have got one already." Margaret looked bewildered, Lizzy confused, and Richard laughed outright. " I have been expeditious," he said, gaily : "I got one while you were away." And Lizzy threw her arms around her friend's neck, and murmured " dear Margaret, dear Margaret." Although neither was very explicit, Margaret understood the whole matter at once, so quickly, indeed, that it might be supposed she expected it, and that her delay was riot purely accidental. However that may be, we know not, for Margaret kept her counsel, and claimed no credit on that score. With the warmth of true friendship she con- gratulated them, and rejoiced in their happiness, returned Richard's cordial grasp, and Lizzy's loving caress. 312 THE DISCOVERY. " Didn't I tell you, Margaret, that I would have a home of my own soon, and not be obliged to beg a seat at any- body's fireside ?" "Yes," replied Margaret, provokingly, "and you told me something else, too, only to-day something about a fire, which I wish Lizzy had heard it would give her a clear idea of your inflexible determination." "Joke away, Margaret ; 'you find jest and I'll find laugh, I promise you :' ' they may laugh who win,' you know." " Very true, and they may weep who lose ; and I have lost my only companion." There was a scarcely perceptible tremor in Margaret's voice as she concluded, and Lizzy's bright eyes were be- dimmed with tears. " Nonsense," said Richard ; " we had better settle this matter at once, and not be fretting about what will never happen. You're not going to leave us, Margaret. Lizzy would never endure it, and I would never submit to it. Our home will be your home." Lizzy added her entreaties to his, and Margaret at length consented. " But when are these changes to take place ? I suppose you have decided upon the time." " Oh, Margaret, it is time enough to think about that, this great while," interrupted Lizzy, quickly. " No, no," said Richard, decidedly : " there is no time ERNEST GREY. 313 like the present. Let me have my way hi this, Lizzy, and you may have your own way in everything else. In a week I will have everything ready. Let us be married next week." It was finally arranged that the marriage should take place the week after next, and that Richard should procure rooms, and have them fitted up simply and comfortably for his bride ; and then he rose to take leave, with undisguised reluctance. Though it was late, he delayed a long time at the door. "What he said, or did, we have no means of knowing, but one thing we do know this time his companion was not Margaret. CHAPTER XXXIV. DEATH OF ERNEST GREY THE SEA-SIDE WALK THB VISIT TO EUROPE SCENE IN THE SUMMER HOUSE MRS. HAMILTON. THREE days after the fire, Ernest Grey expired in the arms of Robert Clements, his mind at ease about Steve, and happy in the hope of rejoining the wife he had so loved and lamented. For these three days Robert hardly ever left his bedside, and during that time his mind received a bias that influenced his entire after life. Richard Kane was present at the solemn hour, for Grey, feeling his end ap- proaching, had sent for him, and entreated him to see Steve often, and transfer to the son the friendship he had felt for the father. Immediately after the disaster which we have related in a preceding chapter, Mr. Clements removed to his country- house, a picturesque residence commanding a view of the tumultuous Atlantic. Much sympathy was expressed for him when it was ascertained that there was no insurance on his dwelling, and several business friends proposed to ERNEST GREY. 315 raise a fund and purchase one, equal in every respect to that which had been destroyed. This idea was, however, soon abandoned, for Mr. Clements positively refused to accept the offer. " That very night," said Mr. Hamilton, referring to the subject, " a poor family, residing in one of those crowded localities down town, was burned out, and lost every article belonging to them ; but I have not heard of any sympathy for them." " Of course not," remarked Mr. Clements, dryly. "The world is much the same now as it was in Juvenal's day. However, it does not become me to find fault with the method of an intended kindness. Excuse me, Hamilton," he added, rising ; "I have business letters to write that admit of no delay." This was just what Mr. Hamilton desired what he had been hoping for during theiast half hour, for he had seen Miss Clements, her cousin, and Stephen Grey turn down a path that led to the sea-side, and he only waited for an opportunity to follow. " I shall ramble down to the beach," he replied. " Prob- ably when I return you will be disengaged." " You don't intend to leave us to-night ?" " No, I rather think not," said Mr. Hamilton, stepping out on the lawn, and walking rapidly in the direction the party had taken. 316 THE SEA-SIDE WALK. It was a lovely summer day, the sky from the zenith to the horizon was a vault of cloudless blue, and the warm rays of the sun were tempered by the cool, refreshing sea- breeze. Far as the eye could reach, the sea was studded with boats, whose oars, as they flashed upwards to the light, shook off the spray in a glittering shower, and fishing- smacks, whose snowy sails glanced in the rays of the de- clining sun. Sea-birds skimmed along the billows, or dived beneath them for their prey, their strange, melancholy notes blending and harmonizing with the measured stroke of the oar, the ripple of the waves upon the sandy beach, and the sullen dash of the water on the far-off rocks. A brisk walk brought Mr. Hamilton face to face with the party he was in search of, as they were returning, laden with wild flowers and sea-shells. " Why, Mr. Hamilton !" exclaimed Emily, " who would have thought of meeting you here. When did you come ?" " About an hour ago ; and as Mr. Clements had letters of importance to write, I came here to view the sunset. Now I will retrace my steps, and accompany you." "Do not disarrange your plans for us, Mr. Hamilton- that is a stretch of courtesy we have no right to expect," said Agatha, coldly. " Yes, you shall," interrupted Emily. " I insist upon it. I dearly love to disarrange all sorts of plans ; so turn your ERNEST GREY. 317 back on the sun it is only a setting sun, and people do that every day." They strolled slowly homewards, talking of sunset and sunrise, moonlight, starlight, " and every other kind of light," Emily, laughingly asserting, that Fontenelle had frightened away all her girlish passions for moon- beams, and that she was always in terror lest some lima- tic fisherman bending earthward, should drop his line into our atmosphere as she was passing along and pull her up. " If you ever do visit the moon, Emily," said Agatha, laughing, " and are as highly favored as the Paladin who preceded you, I hope you will bring back some token that you remembered me while in that mystic receptacle for things lost below." " I certainly shall, but what have you lost ? Let me see ! I shall bring back Robert's gaiety, my wit, your candor, and Mr. Hamilton's heart." " You will not find it there," said Mr. Hamilton, quickly ; "it has not fled so far." " It has not ? " interrogated Emily. " Well, it is too heavy for me to carry. However, if you have not lost your heart,' you have lost your gallantry, for you haven't said one word in praise of country air, or alluded remotely to its beautifying effects." And Emily tossed her head and smiled coquettlshly. 318 THE SEA-SIDE WALK. " Have I not ? Then give me credit for self command, for I have thought of little else." Its beautifying effects were very perceptible, for the cousins never looked so lovely in all the pride of fashion, as they did now in their simple white muslin dresses. Their sun-bonnets filled with shells and mosses, were slung over their arms, and their hair tossed by the wind fell about them in willowy ringlets, amid which were entwined the gay field flowers and " hedge row beauties numberless," they had gathered on their way. The pale peach-like complexion had deepened into a brilliant bloom, the step was more elastic, and every beauty looked fresher from the contact with nature. " Oh, what a beautiful butterfly ! " shouted Steve, run- ning up in pursuit of a magnificent specimen. " Do catch it for me, Emily." " No, no ; let us try who can catch it first," said Emily, and she gave chase to the butterfly, closely followed by Steve. Here was .the opportunity Mr. Hamilton had been long waiting for, and he was not the man to let it pass unim- proved. " Miss Clements," he said, reproachfully ; " chance is more propitious to me than you would have been. I have several times entreated that you would grant me an inter- view, though but for five minutes, and now you are dis- ERNEST GREY. pleased I see, that I should avail myself of this chance, but, even at the risk of incurring your displeasure, I must speak. I have waited for this opportunity I have sought for it I cannot let it pass. Agatha, I love ; I have long loved you, not With the fickle passionate love of youth, but with the deeper tenderness of maturer years. My love is not the growth of an hour it is entwined with every fibre of my heart it is a part of my being it can end only with my life." The tone of manly sincerity that gave additional value to every word, and the quiet earnestness of manner that told of deep feeling, pleaded powerfully in his favor. But her own heart pleaded more powerfully still. He did love her after all ; it was not, as her sensitive p'ride had often whispered to her, a feeling of pity for a love-sick girl, who could not conceal her feelings, that impelled him to seek an interview, nor a sense of honor towards one whose name had been insultingly coupled with his 110, it was love, love only. This conviction brougllt with it such a feeling of rapturous pleasure, that instinctively she dropped her eyes lest they might reveal too much. But for the scene in the ball-room they might be happy. How she wished she could efface it altogether ; but that was impossible, and with the recollection of it came back the torturin ,f - , '< , >*** V. ,- "* iiiiiiniiiiiiiillllllll MII A 000115"848