487A 
 
 HOOK N@Jll4|
 
 THE LIBRARY 
 
 OF 
 
 THE UNIVERSITY 
 OF CALIFORNIA 
 
 LOS ANGELES
 
 Gentleman Born 
 
 BY 
 
 EDWARD C. KANE 
 
 NEW YORK 
 
 G. ff^. Dillingham Co., Publishers 
 
 MDCCCC
 
 Entered according to Act of Congress in the year 1900, 
 
 BY 
 
 EDWARD C. KANE. 
 All Rights Reserved.
 
 CONTENTS. 
 
 PAGE 
 
 PROLOGUE. 
 Perry Barrington s Crime 7 
 
 CHAPTER I. 
 The Varsity Lion 23 
 
 CHAPTER II. 
 One Phase of Social Life 31 
 
 CHAPTER III. 
 Another Phase 37 
 
 CHAPTER IV. 
 John McCarty, Contractor 43 
 
 CHAPTER V. 
 Swipsie Biglin 49 
 
 CHAPTER VI. 
 The Season at Newport 55 
 
 CHAPTER VII. 
 
 Ix)ve at Sight 62 
 
 I 
 
 CHAPTER VIII. 
 A Southern Belle 71 
 
 CHAPTER IX. 
 Resolutions 78 
 
 CHAPTER X. 
 Rescued 85 
 
 CHAPTER XI. 
 On the Cliffs 93 
 
 1702017
 
 iv CONTENTS. 
 
 PAGE 
 
 CHAPTER XII. 
 Sheepshead 102 
 
 CHAPTER XIII. 
 Searching for Evidence 100 
 
 CHAPTER XIV. 
 Club Life 118 
 
 CHAPTER XV. 
 A Stag Supper 127 
 
 CHAPTER XVI. 
 Conspirators 136 
 
 CHAPTER XVII. 
 Counterplot 143 
 
 CHAPTER XVIII. 
 Behind the Scenes 148 
 
 CHAPTER XIX. 
 After the Play 161 
 
 CHAPTER XX. 
 When the Clock Strikes Two 160 
 
 CHAPTER XXI. 
 Daisy Dimples 178 
 
 CHAPTER XXII. 
 In the Caf6 185 
 
 CHAPTER XXIII. 
 Mrs. Brandon Entertains 193 
 
 CHAPTER XXIV. 
 A Fashionable Opium Joint 207 
 
 CHAPTER XXV. 
 Miss Gordon Receives a Letter 221 
 
 CHAPTER XXVI. 
 At Bay 228 
 
 CHAPTER XXVII. 
 Mildred s Story 237
 
 CONTENTS. v 
 
 PAGE 
 
 CHAPTER XXVIII. 
 In Virtue s Cause 245 
 
 CHAPTER XXIX. 
 Rifts in the Clouds 255 
 
 CHAPTER XXX. 
 Pietro Confesses 262 
 
 CHAPTER XXXI. 
 A Warning 270 
 
 CHAPTER XXXII. 
 Nemesis 281 
 
 CHAPTER XXXIII. 
 The Wages of Sin 289 
 
 CHAPTER XXXIV. 
 Doubting 297 
 
 CHAPTER XXXV. 
 On Christmas Eve 30 
 
 CHAPTER XXXVI. 
 Whisperings of Love 315 
 
 CHAPTER XXXVII. 
 Guyon s Sweetheart 323
 
 A GENTLEMAN BORN. 
 
 PROLOGUE. 
 PERRY HARRINGTON S CRIME. 
 
 "To business now, Pietro, and be brief. Are you cer 
 tain no one saw you follow me to this room?" 
 
 "Sure, Signer, in my-a deesguise how you-a call, eet 
 would be-a hard to say-a Pietro who-a he ees." 
 
 "Well, well; but to the point. From our former con 
 versation I made it clear to you that this child, the heir to 
 the Beaumont fortune, must disappear to-night. You 
 follow me?" 
 
 "Yes-a, Signer." 
 
 "Are you fully prepared to undertake the affair at the 
 price named?" 
 
 "If eet-a was not-a so, Pietro would-a not come-a to 
 night." 
 
 "And the arrangements for getting him away, thd 
 place of hiding, are all complete?" 
 
 "Eet ees all-right. The nurse, what-a you call-a 
 Stella, she ees a fren, she-a help me-a out, show me-a 
 once a stairway up-a an down so I take-a zee leetle boy. 
 You-a can trust Pietro. An-a, a zee mon?" 
 
 "The what?" 
 
 "Zee mon for what-a you call-a zee job." 
 
 "0 yes. Our agreement was five hundred dollars, 
 half down when you made the attempt, the remainder 
 when you had successfully placed the child where even
 
 8 A GENTLEMAN BORN. 
 
 the most astute of the lynx-eyed detectives could not find 
 him. Here is the first installment," and Perry counted 
 out the crisp new bills into the hand of the avaricious 
 Italian whose eyes greedily devoured each addition to the 
 pile, while Perry ever and anon cast an anxious glance 
 around to make sure that no unbidden gaze watched the 
 unlawful proceeding. 
 
 "Ah, that-a ees worzy of-a great-a Milor you-a will 
 be-a. Pietro will-a serve you well-a for sure." 
 
 "For the balance of the money, meet me to-morrow at 
 the place where the contract was made. Now for the 
 final instructions. Conceal yourself near the conserva 
 tory; and when Mrs. Beaumont sends for the nurse, that 
 is your cue to go to the nursery. You understand?" 
 
 "Yes-a, Milor/ 
 
 "Now leave me." 
 
 Alone in the apartment, this arch-conspirator in one 
 of the most dastardly plots ever conceived or executed in 
 high or low life, gazed for a moment nonchalantly about 
 the place. It had been the study or sanctum of Clarence 
 Beaumont during his brief married life. Perry was 
 familiar with every nook and corner of the house and 
 more especially of this room where he had spent many a 
 social evening with his chum, invariably coming to him 
 when his allowance was overdrawn or when he had be 
 come involved in some difficulty out of which Clarence 
 was always ready to help him; for Clarence was of a 
 steady sober temperament nor had he wasted his sub 
 stance in riotous living; but settled down early in life, 
 marrying the lady of his heart s devotion, the belle of the 
 season, bringing her home to this magnificently ap 
 pointed residence on Madison Avenue. 
 
 Now, Clarence being scarcely two years dead, this 
 man, once his friend, is seeking the hand and fortune of
 
 PERRY BARRINGTOWS CRIME. 9 
 
 the widow and planning to abduct the only child, a boy of 
 three years, to whom in trust the bulk of the Beaumont 
 millions had been bequeathed. 
 
 There was life and gaiety galore at the home of the 
 fascinating widow Beaumont to-night and with reason. 
 The palatial residence, closed to society for two long 
 dreary years, during which period it seemed that the 
 radiant orb of the social world had lost some of its wonted 
 lustre, was opened now with the dazzling splendor of a 
 Fancy Dress Ball. 
 
 For some weeks previous, decorators had been let loose 
 in the mansion, transforming the drawing-room, the ball 
 room and the banquet hall into miracles of splendor. 
 While the conservatory opening from the ball-room, was 
 in itself a fairy wonderland with artificial fountains 
 playing in almost natural rockery, clusters of palms, 
 exotics and ferns grouped here and there, and the tiniest 
 of fairy lamps gleaming everywhere through the foliage. 
 
 Perry did not tarry long in the room which was 
 fraught with so many recollections of his former friend. 
 The last of the guests had assembled when he made his 
 way back to the drawing-room; and his mind, although 
 preoccupied with the dangerous game he was to play that 
 night, was captivated by the scene before him. 
 
 There were ladies from the Court of the gay Louis 
 XIV., courtiers of the merry monarch Charles II., 
 mingling with the more sober dames from Holland, 
 monks in gown and cowl, and pretty pious nuns. Eepre- 
 sentatives from the Court of Eome were there, from 
 Berlin, Vienna and St. Petersburg; all chatting together 
 as though an international alliance had suddenly been 
 proclaimed among the great powers of the world. 
 
 Perry himself, whose form and bearing could not be 
 mistaken under the disguise of a Eussian nobleman, was
 
 10 A GENTLEMAN BORN. 
 
 the centre of all eyes as he entered. For it was an open 
 secret among the chosen set that his ardent attentions 
 were directed to the widow Beaumont; and many a fond 
 mother who knew of his escapades in the past, thanked 
 her stars that her daughter had escaped from his meshes. 
 
 "Ah, mon cher Comte, I am so delighted to meet you 
 here !" exclaimed a dashing demoiselle in the costume of 
 a French flower lass. "You surely recognize me; these 
 disguises are simply ridiculous, aren t they?" 
 
 "Some may be, but yours is stunningly becoming, by 
 Jove !" replied the flatterer, casting an admiring glance 
 into the deep blue eyes which were peeping from under 
 the domino. 
 
 "Do you really mean it? I must give you a flower; 
 which will you choose? No, I will select one for you. 
 Here is a lovely chrysanthemum. It s not your flower, I 
 know; but it s not so far from the Eussias the emblem 
 of the flowery Kingdom, you know." 
 
 "Thanks, awfully. I shall wear it in fond remem 
 brance." 
 
 "Say, Perry," whispered the young miss as she lingered 
 over the task of adjusting the flower, "don t you think 
 it an awful shame that the gentlemen are thronging about 
 our dashing hostess, and she so lately a widow, poor 
 Clarence !" 
 
 "Damn Clarence and the rest of them!" muttered 
 Perry, Then aloud: "Where is she? I have been look 
 ing for her ever since I arrived." 
 
 "0, she s down there at the end of the room. Shall I 
 summon a Guard of Musketeers to open the pathway for 
 you?" 
 
 "No, thanks, I shall seek her presently." 
 
 "Well, good bye. I must dispose of my flowers before 
 the dance."
 
 PERRT BARRINGTOW8 CRIME. 11 
 
 "Don t say adieu, it s au revoir, mademoiselle; I ll see 
 you again, Flossie dear." 
 
 Then he strode leisurely through the room unheeding 
 the jocular remarks made at his expense by some youth 
 ful cads of famous ancestry, towards the place where his 
 adored one had established herself among a coterie of the 
 most distinguished ladies and gentlemen. She noted 
 his approach and her pulse beat more quickly; but no 
 outward sign indicated her emotion. 
 
 Marvelously beautiful she was to-night. Four years of 
 wedded life and two of widowhood had not diminished 
 that singular beauty which at first attracted Clarence 
 Beaumont. Her figure was more clearly defined with the 
 maternal grace of womanhood. Her complexion was still 
 clear and transparent, and her large, violet eyes had lost 
 none of their deep, rich lustre; at times innocent as the 
 fawn; again, when moved by passion or excitement, 
 dancing with sparkling brilliancy. It was no wonder that 
 a bevy of gentlemen were about her, grateful for her 
 lightest smile to-night, willing to unite their lives and 
 fortunes with her own, taking herself and her child to their 
 honorable embrace. Ah, if she had but known and 
 chosen wisely, how different would have been the fate of 
 the boy Guyon! But she told herself that her future 
 weal or woe was bound irretrievably with Perry Barring- 
 ton. 
 
 Gowned with faultless taste as a princess of the royal 
 house of France, a tiara of diamonds above the wealth of 
 golden hair, her appearance appealed to the sensuous 
 heart of her lover as he advanced to her side, the throng 
 parting involuntarily to give him place. It was only 
 when he stood there at last that Mrs. Beaumont ap 
 peared conscious of his presence. 
 
 "A type of perfect manhood," she said to herself. Still,
 
 1$ A GENTLEMAN BORN. 
 
 to the unbiased observer traces of a life of dissipation 
 were discernible on his countenance. He was tall with 
 somewhat of a military bearing, his complexion shaded by 
 a heavy beard, carefully trimmed in the imperial style, 
 while a heavy moustache concealed a mouth at the same 
 time weak and passionate. His cold, steel gray eyes were 
 strangely restless except when, as to-night, they looked 
 into the violet depth of his loved one s, when they 
 seemed to catch a spark from hers, and flash the fulness 
 of his passion. 
 
 "Ah, you have come at last," she said ; "and in such a 
 costume still, on the whole, it it not so unbecoming, pro 
 viding that your humor be not unbearably bearish." 
 
 "I have nothing but apologies for my tardy appearance 
 at your court, so please your highness. As to my cos 
 tume, I would have chosen the character of the illustrious 
 :head of your house did I not imagine that my friend 
 Brewster here could have more graciously assumed it." 
 
 "Well said, Mr. Barrington, but at what shrine have 
 you been already worshiping? "We ladies of France are 
 jealous, you know. A chrysanthemum ! Ah, that is good 
 enough for a Eussian; still, if you sojourn at our court, 
 you must change it for the Fleur de Lis." 
 
 "Most noble lady," said Perry, "your lightest wish is a 
 command. Behold, I lay the emblem of the flowery king 
 dom at your feet, only too delighted to assume in its place 
 your own national flower." 
 
 "It is well; but hearken! The strains of music greet 
 us from the ball-room. And see, the heralds announce 
 the dance. Ladies and gentlemen, we release you from 
 your devoted allegiance and must ourself assume forth 
 with the duties of hostess." 
 
 Even as she spoke the great doors of the ball-room were 
 thrown open and a flood of brilliancy streamed from the
 
 PEERT BARRING TON 1 8 CRIME. 13 
 
 place. It was only one of the many surprises of the even 
 ing ; and the guests, attracted by the lively strains and by 
 the- summons from the heralds, thronged into the spacious 
 apartment. The highly polished floor reflected the light 
 from a dozen or more chandeliers, which were in turn aug 
 mented by four massive candelabra. At one end the 
 musicians were concealed by a natural screen made of 
 maiden hair fern and lilies of the valley; while at the 
 other, through a transparent curtain of trailing plants and 
 violets, one could catch a glimpse of the conservatory. It 
 was all a dream of richness enhanced a hundredfold by 
 the varied colors of the costumes which the stately motion 
 of the minuet brought out in pleasing relief. 
 
 "You have a dance in reserve for me?" said Perry, as 
 he escorted the dashing widow to the ball-room. 
 
 "A dance? rather late in asking when they are even 
 now waiting for me there." 
 
 "I know that I m late, confound it I m always late 
 when my interest is at stake/ replied Perry. 
 
 "Poor boy, if I were certain that the chrysanthemum 
 had not detained you, I might show a little compassion this 
 once." 
 
 "You saw me in conversation with the flower girl?" 
 
 "Yes, and thank heaven it was not the real, genuine arti 
 cle, eh, Perry, considering that it was only Floy, and that 
 she fancies you love her." 
 
 "I love her? Nonsense!" 
 
 "Why," continued Mrs. Beaumont, pursuing her light 
 raillery simply for her own amusement and to draw out 
 her companion s sentiments, "Florence Boughton is a 
 charming young lady, only out this season you know." 
 
 "So much the better for her; everything being equal, 
 she will break a score of hearts before she seeks the golden 
 fetters of wedlock."
 
 14 A GENTLEMAN BORN. 
 
 "You are cynical to-night, Perry, and I have a great 
 fancy to leave you to your own devices/ 
 
 "Pray do not leave me, or if you will kiss me before 
 we part. See the last couple has left the room, we are 
 alone." 
 
 "So we are; and for that reason I must hasten to the 
 dance. No, not a kiss! You are really too bad; but I 
 will give you the next best thing a dance. Which shall 
 it be?" 
 
 "Beggars cannot be choosers, so I must submit to be sat 
 isfied with a valse." 
 
 "A valse it shall be the third," she said, hurriedly giv 
 ing him her program ; upon which he inscribed his name 
 in the only two vacant places remaining. 
 
 The interval during the first and second dances passed 
 all too slowly for Perry. So preoccupied was he in the 
 work which he had mapped out for himself that night, 
 that his partners were astonished at his ungallant be 
 havior and his generally abstracted air, something un 
 usual in him, since he always posed as a brilliant 
 dancer. 
 
 At last the notes of one of the famous valses of the day 
 were heard. He was at the side of his loved one, while 
 she, all animation from the excitement which had been 
 her one absorbing passion in the happy girlhood days, 
 greeted him with one of her most fascinating smiles. It 
 is needless to say that this, the first dance of the evening 
 with the charming widow, served to quicken his already 
 high strung passion. The easy swing of the music, the 
 very grace of the motion, the beauty of her whom he led 
 through the mazes, whom he held so near to him that he 
 could almost feel the quick pulsations of her heart, all this 
 carried him for the moment to a realm of untold delights, 
 to some paradise of bliss.
 
 PERRY BARRINGTON 3 CRIME. 15 
 
 "Oh, I am so thoroughly exhausted," she murmured, 
 as the music ceased for an interval; and she averted her 
 gaze to avoid the passionate glance with which his eyes 
 were bent upon her. 
 
 "Are you, dearest? Come then, let us rest for a while 
 in the conservatory before the other couples intrude upon 
 that fairy retreat." 
 
 "As you wish, Perry. Do you know I feel that some 
 thing dreadful will happen to-night." 
 
 "It is only your excited nerves, the strain of the even 
 ing has been too great an ordeal for you. See, here is a 
 rustic nook beneath the spreading branches of the palms. 
 May I get you an ice or a cooling drink ?" 
 
 "No, I thank you. I will sit here and rest." 
 
 "And I will recline at your feet on this grassy mound, 
 if you will permit me." 
 
 "As though there were need of asking? You will sit 
 where you wish, I presume." 
 
 "Nowhere but at your feet to-night, dearest." 
 
 "Why do you address me so? You do not seem to be 
 your own self to-night, Perry. Do you remember the old 
 days when Clarence was alive? What happy evenings we 
 passed together, he and you and I." 
 
 "Yes, good, dear old fellow. I have been thinking of 
 him to-night and of something he said to me once shortly 
 before he was taken ill." 
 
 "Do tell me, Perry ; was it about me ? Why didn t you 
 tell me before?" 
 
 "Why, because I did not dare to. Because, in your se 
 clusion, you seemed too sacred a being for my unworthy 
 self to intrude upon." 
 
 "Was it about you?" she asked, and her heart beat a 
 little more quickly as a glimmering of the possible mean 
 ing dawned upon her.
 
 16 A GENTLEMAN BORN. 
 
 "Yes, about me and and you. We had been sitting 
 together in his study, smoking and talking of the old times 
 when we were college boys. When, suddenly, as though a 
 presentiment of his approaching death had risen before 
 him, he grasped my hand, saying in a voice I shall never 
 forget: Perry, old fellow, I have a strange warning 
 that I am not long for this world. It is sad to go, leav 
 ing my wife and my son, my Guyon, alone just when all 
 appears bright and radiant for the future. Perry, if any 
 thing should happen to me, promise me that you will be 
 a father to my child. I feel that I can trust both him and 
 Muriel to your care and protection/ 
 
 "Did he say that?" she asked, while her eyes were suf 
 fused with tears. 
 
 "He did, and although I endeavored to rouse him out of 
 the melancholy which affected him, he persisted in his re 
 quest until I complied, little thinking then that the hour 
 of its fulfillment would ever arrive." 
 
 There was a moment s silence during which the lively 
 strains from the ball-room filling the place, contrasted 
 strangely with the feelings of this ill-fated couple; she 
 becoming more and more convinced that the only man in 
 every way suited to take her husband s place was there at 
 her feet; he acting his part with the hypocrisy and sham 
 of an accomplished villain. 
 
 "Muriel," he said at length, breaking the silence, "if 
 I did not love you at that time it was because of the insur 
 mountable barrier which parted us. Now, it has been 
 withdrawn by the unseen power which guides our des 
 tinies. I worship you; and in the fulfillment of my 
 promise to Clarence, I but satisfy the intense longing of 
 my heart. Muriel, my whole heart s love is yours ! Will 
 be my wife ?"
 
 PERRY BARRING TON 1 8 CRIME. 17 
 
 "Oh, Perry, it all so sudden, so soon after my mourn 
 ing, the first night that I have appeared in society." 
 
 "What matter, if you love me, darling !" he exclaimed, 
 rising and taking a seat beside her. 
 
 "If I love you? Oh yes, there is no need of asking 
 that question; but you will wait a little longer?" 
 
 "Wait? Have I not been waiting hungry for your 
 love and thirsting during two long years?" 
 
 "Hush, Perry, it sounds like a sacrilege to talk in that 
 strain." 
 
 "But I must talk. Forgive me, darling, it is my love 
 not my better judgment which prompts me. Say that 
 you will give me the right to protect you and your son." 
 
 "It shall be as you wish," she answered softly; "but it 
 must not be known for a year at least." 
 
 "My darling, my own!" he whispered, imprinting a 
 passionate kiss upon her lips. "And now that you are 
 mine, I must ask you to grant me still another boon." 
 
 "Anything and everything, providing it be not too ex 
 travagant, you naughty boy. Can you imagine the happi 
 ness you have brought into my life?" 
 
 "To some extent, yes. Now I want to see my future 
 eon to-night." 
 
 "What a strange request! it is so late. He is asleep 
 in the nursery, you know ; and besides you can see him to 
 morrow." 
 
 "Certainly ; still I have not seen him in so long a time. 
 You won t refuse me this." 
 
 "It is difficult to refuse you anything. How strange 
 that you should have taken such a fancy to Guyon ! And 
 yet, I remember how he used to worship you in his in 
 fant way. Oh, he is a great boy now ! Why, he is three 
 years old, and some day, if he lives, he will have all the 
 Beaumont fortune. Do you mind, Perry?"
 
 18 A GENTLEMAN BORN. 
 
 "Not in the least, providing that I have you. We shall 
 not starve at all events." 
 
 "That is spoken like a grand, dear old fellow as you are. 
 Well, if you will be so good as to find Hastings, the 
 butler, and tell him that I wish to see the nurse, perhaps 
 I may coax her to let my boy come to me. She is a 
 great tyrant here, is nurse." 
 
 "You will not be lonely in my absence?" 
 
 "Oh no, dear, I shall be surrounded with happy memories. 
 And see, the guests are beginning to invade our holy 
 place! I shall not be long alone." 
 
 Perry stole one more ardent kiss and left the conserva 
 tory. On his way to find Hastings, he met the Italian to 
 whom he gave a secret signal to be about his work. The 
 latter evidently understood for he vanished instantly. 
 
 The butler was a little grumpy about being disturbed 
 in the enjoyment of his choice potation; but his mistress 
 was the idol of his life and her wish was a command. So 
 he hastened to summon the nurse. Strolling leisurely 
 through the ball-room, where the guests were now grouped 
 about chatting and gossiping, Barrington exchanged a few 
 remarks with his most intimate friends, and entered the 
 conservatory just as the nurse was leaving. 
 
 By some strange coincidence, a rumor had been circu 
 lated to the effect that the most surprising event of the 
 evening was about to be witnessed; that the heir to the 
 Beaumont millions was to appear at this unseasonable hour. 
 Of course there were some who cried dowa the idea as 
 preposterous. 
 
 "What, bring a child of three years out of his cozy bed 
 at so unseemly an hour ? It is ridiculous in the extreme !" 
 
 But the majority, alert for novelty of any description, 
 thronged to the conservatory from which they had seen 
 the nurse emerge. Hence it was that when Perry
 
 PERRY BARRINGTON 8 CRIME. 19 
 
 sought his beloved, he found that half of the gay ladies 
 with their cavaliers were converging to the same spot. 
 
 Chattering like so many magpies, grouped here and 
 there among the exotic plants and the palms, the fantastic 
 light from a thousand tiny lanterns and fairy lamps 
 playing upon the rich costumes, the guests made a 
 striking picture. In the midst, sitting upon the rustic 
 settee where he had left her, and little dreaming of the 
 tragedy about to be enacted, was Mrs. Beaumont, radiant 
 in her new-found happiness, musing on the halcyon 
 days of bliss in store. 
 
 "I have delivered your message, dearest one," he said. 
 
 "Yes, and it has been quickly answered. Nurse has 
 come and departed. It was well you were not here to 
 share the fury of her awakened ire when I made the start 
 ling proposition. Only my most persuasive eloquence 
 could induce her to yield." 
 
 "She did finally yield?" 
 
 "Oh, yes. I am mistress here, you know; but, Perry, 
 why are the guests thronging hither? Has the dancing 
 come to an end, or has something unexpected happened?" 
 
 "That is the question I have asked myself, darling. 
 See, here comes a deputation of our own set, let us hear 
 what have they to say." 
 
 At the same moment a bevy of charming girls fairly 
 rushed in upon the loving couple. 
 
 "A thousand pardons for intruding!" exclaimed one. 
 "Is it true that your darling Guyon is about to appear? 
 Everyone says so, but no one can vouch for the truth of 
 the rumor." 
 
 "It is true," replied Mrs. Beaumont; "just a little sur 
 prise of mine, you know, which was not to have been 
 bruited abroad until he was in our midst. He begged so 
 hard to see the pitty folk I could not refuse him,"
 
 20 A GENTLEMAN BORN. 
 
 "Then it is true. Oh, how good of you, Muriel!" 
 cried a dashing belle; and the trio pranced off to convey 
 the assured intelligence to the expectant groups. 
 
 Almost at the same time the nurse reappeared, alone, 
 her countenance blanched with well-feigned terror. Burst 
 ing through the crowd which sought to detain her with 
 every manner of question, she rushed to where Barrington 
 and the young widow were, and fell at the tetter s feet 
 exclaiming : 
 
 "Have pity, madame, le bon Dieu, pity !" 
 
 "What has happened?" cried Mrs. Beaumont, rising 
 excitedly. 
 
 "Miserecore, madame, zee chile, le bon gargon ees 
 gone! No vere can I fine im." 
 
 "My boy gone, my Guyon! Oh, Perry, what shall I 
 do? My God, my God!" and she fell unconscious into 
 her lover s arms. 
 
 There was not time for sentiment now. Only the 
 most subtle acting on Perry s part could save him in the 
 dread crisis. He was assured that both his schemes had 
 prospered. If his had been the heart to feel a momentary 
 pang of remorse as the woman who had given to him all 
 the purest affection of her soul lay there unconscious on 
 his breast, the idea that the stakes were the highest, that 
 his own ample fortune was completely wasted, and that 
 his creditors would be hot on his chase on the morrow, was 
 sufficient to banish it all; as it was, his only sentiment 
 was one of elation. Still he was obliged to assume the 
 character of protector of his fiancee and of her child, and 
 he prepared himself for the emergency. Hastily sum 
 moning some of the more level-headed of the ladies 
 present, he committed the unconscious widow to their 
 care. Then before a party of all the men assembled
 
 PERRY BARRING TON S GRIME. 21 
 
 who were eager for the facts of the case, he questioned 
 the maid. 
 
 "Tell us, Stella, if you can, what has happened. No, 
 do not look to your mistress, she is in good keeping. Be 
 truthful, for you may have to answer before a, tribunal 
 of justice for the child s abduction." 
 
 "Truthful, you say, sir? Yees, I tell zee trut, all I 
 know," she answered doggedly, her eyes averted from his. 
 "Ven I come down, zee gargon he sleep so beautiful, so 
 like un ange, hees leetle hand under zee tete so; and ven 
 I return, zee bed it vas zare, mais le Guyon, mon beau gar- 
 c,on, he ees gone." 
 
 "Gentlemen," said Barrington, "you hear the nurse s 
 story. You may believe as much of it as you wish. 
 Nothing remains but to search the house. I who am bet 
 ter acquainted with it perhaps than any of you, will 
 lead the way." 
 
 In the nursery everything was found as the nurse had 
 described. The tiny couch lately occupied, now vacant. 
 No sign of struggle was there. No cry could be heard, 
 not even the sound of a footstep as they Searched the ad 
 joining apartments, the suite occupied by Mrs. Beaumont, 
 the guest chambers, the most remote and unused parts of 
 the house, and finally the servants quarters; and no trace 
 of the boy Guyon was discovered. 
 
 Dismayed, convinced that an awful crime, an abduction 
 had been perpetrated, the men descended to the so lately 
 dazzling, happy ball-room, and to the conservatory, where 
 now all was hushed in the subdued excitement attendant 
 upon the return of the widow to consciousness. She rec 
 ognized Perry as he approached, and with a cry embraced 
 him. 
 
 "My boy, my Guyon, you have found him?" 
 
 "Try to compose yourself, my precious one," he whis-
 
 22 A GENTLEMAN BORN. 
 
 pered. "I have not found him, your son is gone; but it 
 is not too late to put forth our highest endeavors in the 
 search for him. With your permission I will dismiss the 
 guests, then communicate with the Central detective 
 office, and in a few moments the most expert of the force 
 will be scouring the city and the country." 
 
 "Do you think that he may be found, Perry? Oh, tell 
 me that he will !" 
 
 "What man can do, shall be done, Muriel. If it be 
 possible, Guyon shall be with us in twenty-four hours." 
 
 "God be thanked, and Clarence, for giving me so good, 
 so true a man as you in the hour of my direful need! 
 Now do as you think best." 
 
 Quietly and with many expressions of sympathy for 
 the doubly bereaved widow, the guests departed. Bar- 
 rington communicated with the Chief of Police, and a re 
 ward of twenty-five thousand dollars was offered for the 
 return of the heir to the Beaumont millions. Instantly 
 the most expert sleuths from the police department were> 
 out in the search all sorts of clews were found and fol 
 lowed up, and amounted to nothing. The nurse, Stella,, 
 was placed in durance for a time, but as no evidence of; 
 the crime could be adduced against her, she was allowed! 
 to go free. 
 
 The plot was too cleverly laid. The police authorities 
 were obliged to confess themselves baffled. The reward 
 was doubled, but no one appeared to claim it; for Guyon 
 Beaumont had passed from the home of his birth into so 
 low a stage of existence that he became as an atom, a 
 nonentity in the vast cosmopolitan community of New 
 York.
 
 THE VARSITY LION. 23 
 
 CHAPTER I. 
 THE VARSITY LION. 
 
 "RAH ! Rah Rah ! 
 Rah! Rah! Rah! 
 Rah! Rah! Rah ! Harvard !" 
 
 "Three cheers for Mac!" 
 
 "Three times three and a tiger for our full-back !" 
 
 "Hold on, fellows, please leave out the tiger; he isn t 
 in it with us, you know." 
 
 "Well put, Mac. Up with him, boys, up with him! 
 fall-in for the Campus." 
 
 "For he s a jolly good fellow, 
 For he s a jolly good fellow, 
 For he s a jolly good fellow, 
 .That nobody can deny." 
 
 Never did a more frolicsome, hilarious and jovial 
 crowd tumble from the New York Express at the Cam 
 bridge station, than the Varsity Eleven, on a certain 
 November evening, after having defeated the boastful 
 Tigers on the Manhattan field. 
 
 Guyon McCarty, a junior of marked ability, high in the 
 estimation of his professors because of his splendid class 
 work, higher still in the affections of his fellow students by 
 reason of his rare skill in all athletic sports, had been 
 chosen full-back in the crucial test for championship in 
 the all-absorbing game of foot-ball. 
 
 Nor had his selection belied their confidence. Never 
 in the Varsity Annals had the struggle been more severe.
 
 24 A GENTLEMAN BORN. 
 
 The Tigers were out to win. Their rooters, resplendent in 
 orange and black, fairly exhausted their lung power in 
 shouts of encouragement, while Harvard s luck seemed 
 on the wane. Then it was that a remarkable feat of 
 punting on the part of McCarty, followed by another, and 
 still another, aroused the sleeping energy of the Varsity 
 rooters. The tide of fortune turned, and the Tigers were 
 forced to leave the field defeated. 
 
 No wonder then that "Mac" was the lion of the hour. 
 No marvel that, as the procession entered the grand old 
 Campus, professors and students alike thronged around; 
 that Guyon was pulled off the shoulders of the stalwart 
 captain and the half-back, hugged, hustled and con 
 gratulated; until, by one of his feints which had won him 
 fame on the field, he dashed through the crowd, and, rush 
 ing into his room, made his solitude secure by bolting the 
 door. 
 
 He threw himself into a comfortable chair, lighted the 
 ever ready pipe, and settled down to what he called a quiet 
 evening with one of his favorite authors for a companion. 
 
 Not a bad appearing chap was this youth with an un 
 couth Irish name. His figure was grandly proportioned, 
 every muscle developed through constant practice in 
 athletics. His face was one not easily forgotten. A 
 forehead suggesting deep intellectual power, eyes of a dark 
 brown that snapped with latent fire under excitement, or 
 were sad almost to melancholy in repose. His nose, 
 slightly Eoman, betrayed patrician birth, while his chin, 
 determined and resolute, denoted determination of charac 
 ter. 
 
 A few whiffs had been pulled, and the fragrance of the 
 tobacco just tinged the cold pure atmosphere, when rap 
 after rap sounded on the door. The lion was bearded in 
 his den.
 
 THE VARSITY LION. 25 
 
 McCarty gave no evidence of his existence as he laid 
 aside his book, and a smile, half sad, half pleasant lighted 
 his countenance. 
 
 Again the rapping, lender than before. 
 
 "I say, Guy," cried a well-known voice, "let us in ! We 
 fellows are bound to take possession of you. Submit 
 quietly and we ll let you down easy." 
 
 "I give way to the inevitable under protest, boys," said 
 McCarty, as he opened the door admitting in a rush the 
 juniors, led by his particular chum, Harold Brandon. 
 
 Indeed, they did take possession in the fullest sense of 
 the word. Placing a chair upon the table, they lifted the 
 hero, willy, nilly, thereon, holding him in position by 
 main force until he laughingly yielded. 
 
 "Bring out the pipes and baccy, Hal," said the lord 
 from his exalted station, "and the wine, you know where to 
 find it. Sorry I can t entertain you better, boys." 
 
 "Bother your entertainment !" shouted Bainbridge, 
 the spokesman of the class, "we haven t come out for that, 
 have we, boys?" 
 
 "No, no!" they cried in a chorus; while the clouds of 
 tobacco smoke began to fill the room to the point of 
 suffocation. 
 
 "The fact is," said Brandon, who having filled the glasses, 
 all around, felt himself released from the duties of hos 
 pitality, "the fact is, we have come to announce your elec 
 tion as president of the class, vacant by the resignation of 
 Hopkins." 
 
 "But I was not aware that Hopkins had resigned," ex 
 claimed McCarty. 
 
 "Of course not," Hopkins himself replied. "I am merely 
 bowing to the will of the majority. My term has nearly 
 expired, and I gracefully step down and out; that is all 
 there is to it."
 
 26 A GENTLEMAN BORN. 
 
 "I cannot accept under these conditions, fellows, class 
 mates " 
 
 "Hear, hear!" cried the excited throng. 
 
 "Accept, Guy, don t flunk so disgracefully," whispered 
 Brandon, who had jumped on the table at his chum s side. 
 
 "Again I submit under protest, gentlemen," said Mc- 
 Carty, as soon as quiet was restored. "Words are inade 
 quate to express my gratitude for this unexpected honor. 
 I believe that Hopkins has filled the office well. I don t 
 see why he should be ousted for me; but since you wish 
 it, I accept." 
 
 "Three cheers for the President, three cheers for Mac, 
 The lion of Harvard, our grand full-back. 
 Eah! Eah! Eah! 
 Eah! Eah! Eah! 
 Eah! Eah! Eah ! Harvard !" 
 
 r A great night it was for the juniors, and a glorious 
 time they had for an hour or so in McCarty s room. Col 
 lege songs were sung. The one never flagging theme of 
 interest, their victory over Princeton, was recited in all 
 its glowing colors with many a joke and squib perpetrated 
 at the expense of the defeated Tigers. At last the assem 
 bly broke up, each insisting upon giving the "lion s paw" a 
 hearty squeeze as he passed out. 
 
 "Can you stay a few moments, Hal?" Guyon asked, as 
 his chum lingered at the door. 
 
 "An hour, if you wish it, old fellow what s up?" 
 
 The query was prompted by a shade of sadness he de 
 tected on Guyon s countenance. 
 
 "Sit down anywhere. Have another pipe ? Do you 
 know, all this sort of thing would lift another chap to 
 the seventh heaven; but somehow it bears me down until 
 I feel as though I were bearing a ton of pig lead."
 
 THE VARSITY LION. 27 
 
 "Blues again, Guy ! sorry for you, I think honestly you 
 should see Doc. It s your liver, take my word for it." 
 
 "No, Hal, it s my past. Have you an appetite for a 
 story ? I never told you anything about myself, did I ?" 
 
 "Not a word. All we fellows know is that you are the 
 son of the great New York contractor, McCarty." 
 
 "Ah, hut it s not so. That was enough at the start to 
 make some of your set shun me, although it s all over now ; 
 no, I am only his son by adoption." 
 
 "Phew ! fire away, Guy I m all ears for your tale." 
 
 "It s a long one. Years ago, it seems ages to me, I 
 was living in the Italian quarter on Mott Street. I was 
 about three years of age then ; and after a time I was sent 
 with other children, whom a padrone had brought over from 
 Italy, down on the East Eiver front, on the refuse scows, 
 to pick rags and coals. While there, I met the first 
 human being who had spoken a kindly word to me, a little 
 Irish lad, Swipsie Biglin by name. It was he who once 
 picked me out of a cloud of refuse, which, dumped from a 
 cart above, threatened to bury me alive. Again, he 
 hustled me, just in the nick of time, out of the midst of 
 a fierce melee in which the Irish and Italians were en 
 gaged. So, there sprung up between us a friendship 
 which seemed destined to last for ever. But our inter 
 course was suddenly broken. The old hag, who called 
 herself my mother, got wind of my being with the lad, 
 and beat me so severely that I lay for weeks at death s 
 -door. When I recovered, my first gleam of reason sug 
 gested escape. Well do I recall the night. A party of 
 the fiercest Italians were fighting over a prize. I ran out 
 from the hovel, through the dimly lighted alley and 
 down to where I thought my little Irish friend abode. 
 
 "Crossing the Bowery, I was nearly run down by car 
 <pr wagon, but was rescued by a Jewish peddler who took
 
 28 A GENTLEMAN BORN. 
 
 me down into the famous Ghetto. I will not lengthen my 
 story to describe my life among the Jews of the East Side, 
 my first visit to their synagogue, the kindly old Eabbi who 
 decided my fate for the time being, by giving me to the 
 master of a sweat-shop, as shrewd and cunning an 
 Israelite as you will find in many a day. Two years were 
 passed in this locality, where I was a veritable drudge as 
 far and beyond what my years could sustain. 
 
 "One day, when I was carrying home a bundle of 
 vests, I chanced upon Biglin. Neither recognized the other 
 at first; for he had grown, and was plying his trade as 
 a newsboy, which occupation he released at will to steal 
 whatever pleased his fancy. He had a mind to appropri 
 ate my bundle, and I was for fighting him then and there, 
 when, by some curious intuition, he discovered my iden 
 tity. There upon, nothing would do but that I should 
 go with him to his home on Cherry Street. 
 
 "Thus, I drifted into the lowest class of the Irish at that 
 day and abode with Biglin and his surly old hag of a 
 grandmother in a damp cellar, subsisting upon the coarsest 
 fare, selling newspapers in the row 5 as the boys called it, 
 becoming in every sense of the term a street gamin, until 
 better luck brought me in contact with an old Englishman, 
 who kept a curiosity shop on Pearl Street. It was really 
 the smallest house I have ever seen. A sort of triangular 
 building, about twelve feet by eight, in its widest part, 
 as I remember it, with a dry cellar serving as kitchen, 
 and a room above the store in which we slept. 
 
 "The old man took a fancy to me, and would have sent 
 me to school, but I rebelled. Street life was fascinating 
 to me. I learned the lingo, could play craps as well as any, 
 and in scrapping/ I was not afraid to face a lad of my 
 size. Then, too, my Irish chum had taught me to
 
 THE VARSITY LION. 29 
 
 swim ; and in the warm June days we were the typical dock 
 rats you may have heard of. 
 
 "Well, my days of freedom were numbered. A cer 
 tain rich contractor who had in his youth been a lad of the 
 streets, and who had grown up in the shadow of the tiny 
 house, visited Mr. Swithers, my protector. He, too, was 
 attracted to me, and used every persuasion to lure me 
 to his illegent home on Seventy-second Street. To his 
 pleading, my mentor, Swipsie, added sage counsel, bidding 
 me go, an do a song an dance fer de big mugs/ and 
 in the end I bade farewell to my associates and to my life 
 among the lower classes, and was advanced another step 
 to fortune. 
 
 "I shall not describe the contractor s mansion. You may 
 see it some day; for mother is anxious to meet you. In 
 time, I grew accustomed to the surroundings. Even the 
 luxurious living seemed strangely natural to me. I went 
 to the public schools, was graduated, and my future was 
 settled at the family tribunal. I must have a tutor, pre 
 pare for college; and at the end of preparatory course, I 
 made my bow here. The rest is familiar to you." 
 
 During the recital, Harold was silent. At first he 
 pulled vigorously at his briar, then removed it from his 
 lips, and sat absorbed in reverie. At the close, a dark 
 frown settled upon his brow. 
 
 "Honest, Guy, this is no romance, you have not worked 
 it up from your fertile imagination?" 
 
 "As true as gospel, Hal. Now do you wonder that I am 
 sad, that all these honors seem empty to me when I think 
 of my origin?" 
 
 "Origin be hanged! There has been the devil s own 
 work in your case, Guy. You are no common street urchin. 
 Thank the Lord the Irish contractor is not your father; 
 but confound it! I must do something. I shall
 
 30 A GENTLEMAN BORN. 
 
 write the Pater to-night. He shall employ the ablest 
 lawyers and the most skilled detectives on the case." 
 
 "Hold just for one moment, Hal ! As you love me, let 
 this story be a secret. I believe that I have been 
 wronged, deeply wronged; but I feel that as the histories 
 of nations and individuals have proven, the evil must 
 eventually right itself." 
 
 "Nonsense ! do you intend passively to submit to fate ?" 
 
 "Not to fate, nor to the perversion of fate. No, Hal, 
 I have ability. I shall leave this dear old place with 
 honor. With her stamp upon me, I shall set out to fight 
 my way to the place heaven has destined for me." 
 
 "Spoken like your grand old self!" cried his chum ris 
 ing. "Your hand, old fellow ; trust me, your secret is safe 
 with me, and eternally count on Brandon."
 
 ONE PHASE OF SOCIAL LIFE. 31 
 
 CHAPTER II. 
 
 ONE PHASE OF SOCIAL LIFE. 
 
 IT was about five o clock in the afternoon of a bright 
 
 autumn day. A few clerks lingered in the National 
 
 Bank, busy with their accounts, while, in the elegantly ap 
 pointed directors room, a gentleman was seated alone 
 perusing a stack of papers which lay on the table before 
 him, and affixing his signature as the document required 
 it. 
 
 He was seemingly about forty-five years of age, of 
 corpulent build. A stern, unprepossessing countenance 
 was shaded by a full beard well tinged with gray, which, 
 with his iron gray hair, made him appear at least ten 
 years older. Still, taking him all in all, Perry Barrington 
 was a well-preserved man for his years. At his marriage 
 with the charming widow Beaumont, some sixteen years 
 ago, he had settled down to enjoy the luxury which his 
 riches afforded. His old acquaintances prophesied that 
 Perry would not long endure the monotony of wedded 
 life; but his steady, even and well-regulated life, his 
 rare appearance at the clubs and favorite resorts, and last 
 but not least, his joining the fashionable church which 
 his wife attended, of which in time he became a leading 
 light, gained for him an unlimited respect, and firmly 
 established his position in society as a model husband. 
 
 It is true that there were periods of absence from 
 home, about the time that a little daughter was born to 
 Muriel Barrington, who, in the joy of the event ; forgot to
 
 32 A GENTLEMAN BORN. 
 
 grieve for her lost son, Guyon; and to wonder in the lack 
 of attention in her husband, to whom she was passionately 
 devoted. 
 
 Then, too, he became connected with the National 
 
 Bank, and was duly installed President of the Board of 
 Directors. There had been a meeting this afternoon, 
 and Perry lingered after the others had departed, occu 
 pied as we find him. 
 
 "A lady wishes to see you, sir," said a messenger, ap 
 pearing at the door. 
 
 "A lady? Have you seen her here before, James? 
 Did she not give her card?" 
 
 "No, sir, I haven t seen her afore. She says as she 
 must see you." 
 
 "I m busy tell her to call some other day. No, show 
 her in. Who the devil can it be?" he muttered, as the 
 messenger left the room. 
 
 He was not long in suspense. A moment later, the 
 messenger returned announcing the lady visitor who en 
 tered, and stood waiting an invitation to be seated. She 
 had evidently at one time been a striking beauty, a blonde 
 of the purest type; but trouble had wrought havoc with 
 that frail female commodity. She seemed about forty 
 years of age. Attired in a sober costume of black, with 
 a jacket and hat of the same color, she certainly would 
 claim the devoirs of respectable society. 
 
 "To whom am I indebted for this visit?" asked Perry, 
 not looking up from his work. 
 
 "Don t you know me, Perry Barrington?" exclaimed 
 the woman. Something in the voice caused the man to 
 start, turn deadly pale, and utter an exclamation of pro 
 fanity. 
 
 "You! Where in the devil s name did you drop from? 
 I thought you were dead."
 
 ONE PHASE OF SOCIAL LIFE. 33 
 
 "If the wish were father to the thought, perhaps I 
 should be/ replied the woman, drawing up a chair in front 
 of him and seating herself. 
 
 "Well, what is it? Why have you come again into my 
 life? The same old story, I dare say money, eh?" 
 
 "No, Perry. I have the allowance regularly, I can t 
 complain about that ; and I ve not seen you these five 
 years." 
 
 "Then you have come to say that you have some one 
 else to take care of you, and don t require my assistance? 
 So much the better." 
 
 "Oh, Perry ! It s not that either. I m just the same as 
 you left me after our baby girl was born fifteen years ago ; 
 and I ve tried, God knows how hard, to keep good for her 
 sake." 
 
 "Humph ! the same story you told me when I saw you 
 last. I think you said you had done as I bid you, put 
 the brat in some out of the way place with no mark of 
 recognition upon it." 
 
 "I really did, Perry. God knows what became of the 
 child ! My only prayer is that it died that cold winter 
 night, and is now in Heaven," and the woman broke down, 
 giving vent to violent sobbing. 
 
 "Come, come! this is no place for a scene; we are not 
 alone in the bank. Tell me why you are here, quickly, 
 and go." 
 
 "Do you think you can bully me in this way? I tell 
 you, you are mistaken!" exclaimed the unhappy woman, 
 thoroughly roused, and changed in an instant to a passion 
 ate fury. "Perry Barrington, beware ! Looked up to 
 and respected as you are, high in society and in the church, 
 a word from me will quickly bring you down to my level." 
 
 "You dare not!" he hissed, his face livid with rage. 
 
 "I dare not? Ah, no, they would not believe it if I
 
 34 A GENTLEMAN BORN. 
 
 told them that you, Perry Barrington, had known a poor 
 actress before your marriage, and had afterward left your 
 charming wife to spend an evening in her company. Ha, 
 ha ! They d not believe it !" she cried hysterically. 
 
 "How have you learned so much about my affairs?" 
 he gasped, struggling to master his passion, which was 
 momentarily threatening to overpower him. 
 
 "Never mind how ; it is all true, I can see by your coun 
 tenance. To think that I was so easily duped, that I 
 believed you truly loved me and would make me your wife ! 
 To think that I loved you still when you persuaded me 
 to give up my one treasure, my baby girl !" 
 
 "Come, this is too much. You have overshot your 
 mark, woman. I have been a fool in tolerating you so 
 long. You dare not breathe a word of what you have ut 
 tered ; if you do," he continued calmly, his voice becoming 
 cold and sarcastic, "if you do no one will credit your tale ; 
 it will be a simple case of blackmail, you know. Now go, 
 and as my name is Perry Barrington, your allowance shall 
 cease to-morrow." 
 
 "Perry !" exclaimed the woman, her attitude changed to 
 one of abject supplication, "Perry, you cannot be so hard 
 hearted ! You will not force me to the worst !" 
 
 "What is that to me, woman?" 
 
 "In memory of the old times, Perry, it was for that, 
 that I came to see you to-day. I have been trying to kill 
 the old love; but I can t. After all you have done, I 
 love you ! Don t turn from me !" she cried. "You cannot 
 fathom a woman s love. All that she holds most cherished 
 and sacred, she gives to the object of her deep affection. 
 What is there left? If he returns it not, treats her but 
 as the toy of the moment, she must, she can but love him 
 still." 
 
 "Enough, enough, woman! I am tired of your talk."
 
 ONE PHASE OF SOCIAL LIFE. 35 
 
 "Is it thus you treat the devotion of your truly wedded 
 wife? Tell me, in your mansion of princely wealth, docs 
 she live heartsore craving your love in vain ? " 
 
 "Hush ! not another word ! Do not let the name of my 
 wife or of my home pass your lips." 
 
 "But you will say that you think kindly of me, Perry, 
 never so little? Come to me again in my flat which I 
 have furnished so nicely out of the money you let me have. 
 Come and see for yourself that Mildred is the same as 
 you left her." 
 
 "No, it cannot be. I tell you, put an end to all this! 
 If it will cause you to leave more quickly, I retract what I 
 said about stopping your allowance; but only on your 
 solemn promise that I shall see you no more. 
 
 "That is your last word, Perry Barrington?" cried the 
 woman, standing now proudly before him, her eyes wild 
 with excitement. 
 
 "My last," he replied, turning to his desk. 
 
 "Then hear me! You may keep your money, I won t 
 touch a penny of it. You have brought a curse upon my 
 life, you have rejected my love; now in turn may your 
 curse revert to your own head! Respected and honored 
 as you are, may you die in shame and infamy ! May 
 your nearest kin reproach you with grievous wrong, and 
 may your life be cut short in a career of prosperity!" 
 
 "Woman, you are mad! Leave me instantly, or I will 
 call the police." 
 
 "I am going, I have had my say, think of it leisurely, 
 Mr. Barrington, and when you are in the throes of agony, 
 remember Mildred and our innocent baby girl." 
 
 With this, the woman left . the room. For a moment 
 Barriugton sat, dazed from the effect of her words. All 
 the evils of his life seemed to pass before him in review. 
 The night of the Fancy Dress Ball, the abduction of
 
 36 A GENTLEMAN BORN. 
 
 Guyon Beaumont, his own double hypocritical life, the 
 baby girl, Mildred s and his, the end that she had just por 
 trayed. "Ha !" he exclaimed, rising and pacing the room, 
 "it s all nonsense. A bad digestion, and the excitement of 
 this unexpected meeting. Poor thing, she is right, per 
 haps. I did treat her beastly; yet I did more for her 
 than most men would have done under the circumstances. 
 She could not expect me to give up wealth, position and 
 everything that I have for her. Damn it all, I m glad 
 that I shall not see her again," and so communing with 
 himself, endeavoring to smooth over the rough edges of 
 conscience, he sat again at his desk, and touched a button, 
 summoning the messenger.
 
 ANOTHER PHASE. 37 
 
 CHAPTEK III. 
 
 ANOTHER PHASE. 
 
 "ARE the clerks still in the bank?" he asked when the 
 functionary appeared. 
 
 "Just one or two, sir, as say they ll stay late to-night." 
 
 "Very well; you may call my coach." 
 
 Perry arrived at his residence a little later than was his 
 custom. As he entered, his wife came out in the hall to 
 meet him. She was still the beautiful Muriel we last saw 
 at the Fancy Dress Ball. Time had been gentle with her ; 
 even the grievous trouble of losing her son had been eclipsed 
 by the birth of the daughter whose coming shed a new lus 
 tre upon her life. Then, too, she loved her husband with 
 all the warmth of her deep, passionate nature, nor had 
 she as yet been undeceived in the trust she imposed in him. 
 Her evening costume of black satin with diamonds showed 
 her full, matronly figure to advantage; while her large, 
 violet eyes shone with the light of unalloyed happines as 
 she held out both hands in greeting. 
 
 "You are a little late; are you feeling as well as usual, 
 dear?" she asked, noting Perry s pale and haggard 
 countenance. 
 
 "Oh, yes; business has been a trifle heavier and more 
 monotonous to-day. Has anything out of the ordinary 
 occurred ?" he asked impatiently, anxious to avoid his wife s 
 pitying glances and to retire to his room. 
 
 "Nothing special, only that your old friend, Mr. Bran 
 don and his wife are here to dinner; and they have
 
 38 A GENTLEMAN BORN. 
 
 brought a real Bishop with them Bishop , from 
 
 Ohio." 
 
 "The Devil!" muttered Perry. 
 
 "What did you say, dear?" 
 
 "I thought we should have a quiet evening together, 
 Muriel; however, I suppose we must submit to being 
 bored." 
 
 "No, dear, we shall not be *bored as you call it. I 
 assure you, Bishop is an excellent man, and such a con 
 versationalist. Now hurry and dress, that s a good fel 
 low! Hastings is becoming impatient in the dining- 
 room." 
 
 Perry would have given the world for what he called 
 a quiet evening, alone in his library that night. Still, as 
 lie went through the hasty preparation of donning his 
 evening clothes, he reflected that it might be better to have 
 some society, no matter of what kind to distract his 
 thoughts from the events of the afternoon. 
 
 "Hello, Brandon !" he cried, entering the drawing- 
 room with his usual genial mien. "I am delighted to see 
 you to-night ! Most charmed to greet you, Mrs. Brandon." 
 
 "This is Bishop , from Ohio," said his friend, as a 
 
 grave old gentleman with a kindly face and polished 
 manners advanced to meet the host. 
 
 "You are welcome to my house, sir. I only wish that I 
 had known of your coming, and I would have had some 
 prominent ministers of the city to welcome you." 
 
 "To sneak truthfully, Mr. Barrington, I prefer a quiet 
 little pothering like this to a large social meeting, even of 
 the brethren." 
 
 "Your pretty compliment is duly appreciated, Bishop," 
 remarked the hostess. 
 
 At this moment came the summons to dinner, at which 
 Hastings, considerably aged, but still loath to surrender
 
 ANOTHER PHASE. 39 
 
 what he called the post of honor, hustled his underlings 
 around, grumbling to himself that it was a shame to have 
 dinners spoiled by people dallying in the drawing-room. 
 
 They were a lively little party when the restraint con 
 sequent upon the presence of the reverend guest had 
 passed. The Brandons had married about the time that 
 Clarence Beaumont and Muriel were wedded, and had 
 been living in a Western home until within a few years 
 previous to the present occasion. Mrs. Brandon, a witty 
 little woman, a few years younger than Muriel, was now 
 seated at Perry s right and was teasing him upon his un 
 usual silence. 
 
 "You are overawed by the Church, are you not, Perry ?" 
 
 "I beg your pardon". " 
 
 "Do you mean to say that you did not hear me ? Where 
 are your thoughts to-night?" 
 
 "I really don t know?" 
 
 "If you don t know where your thoughts are, you are 
 certainly in a bad plight. Bishop," she said, "can you 
 tell me in your wisdom, what is the condition of a man 
 who knows not of what he is thinking?" 
 
 "It may be, Madam, that the gentleman s thoughts are 
 so deep that he cannot fathom them ; and again, it may be 
 that his thoughts are so vain that he would rather conceal 
 them. Are you answered?" 
 
 "Yes, many thanks, sir." Then to Perry, "In which 
 category am I to consider you?" 
 
 "In either, as you please." 
 
 "Perry !" exclaimed Mr. Brandon, coming to his friend s 
 rescue, "do you know that Harry is doing famously well 
 at Harvard?" 
 
 "Harold in Harvard! I am surely delighted to hear 
 it, old fellow," said Perry. "I suppose he takes the lead 
 in everything, as his father did in the old days."
 
 40 A GENTLEMAN BORN. 
 
 "I am not so sure of that," replied his friend; "he 
 writes that there is a certain fellow there, he must be an 
 Irish boy, judging by the name McCarty who is win 
 ning the highest honors." 
 
 "Some low-bred fellow, no doubt," said Perry. "How 
 disastrous it is that the lower classes should be admitted to 
 our grand old Universities on an equal footing with our 
 set!" 
 
 "It is an evil which cannot be averted in this country, 
 I am afraid," said the Bishop. "Here, wealth is the pass 
 word which insures a certain entree everywhere, setting 
 the stamp of aristocracy upon the lowliest." 
 
 "Provided they have the intelligence and ambition to 
 elevate themselves, I cannot see why they should not share 
 our positions," remarked Mr. Brandon. 
 
 "Why, Brandon! are you going over to the enemy? 
 Where shall the line be drawn? If you follow up your 
 theory, we shall have these women in their tawdry 
 adornments, without the taste and culture of the better 
 class, entering our drawing-rooms and sitting with us at the 
 social board." 
 
 "Fancy the wife of some big Irish contractor sitting here 
 with us to-night, and making a fool of herself by con 
 tinual breaches of etiquette," ventured Mrs. Brandon in 
 an aside to the hostess. 
 
 "On this one point you are mistaken, friends," said the 
 Bishop quietly; "these women will never enter your inner 
 circles until education has cultivated their taste and 
 polished their manners. Women are the greatest critics 
 of their own sex; they are also sensitive as to their own 
 appearance and the impression they may produce. Is it 
 not so, Mrs. Barrington?" 
 
 "I think you are correct, Bishop. Still, for my own 
 part," continued Muriel, ever a champion of her set, "it
 
 ANOTHER PHA8E. 41 
 
 seems that the only means for keeping our class exclusive, 
 is to prevent our children from intermarriage with the 
 lower caste." 
 
 "Just so : it would undoubtedly be an excellent plan for 
 carrying out the project as you put it/ said the Bishop. 
 "Such marriages cannot be the happiest from general prin 
 ciples, although there may be an exceptional case now and 
 again, where the husband will elevate his wife until she 
 shines in his social sphere." 
 
 "Or draws him down with her," chimed in Mrs. Brandon. 
 
 "So much the worse for our age and the generation of 
 our children," remarked the Bishop. "If our men would 
 learn to show the proper respect for womanhood, that re 
 spect which our fathers showed to our mothers; ah, there 
 was an example for you ! if they would consider the mar 
 riage contract as a Heaven-born institution not to be 
 lightly entered upon nor lightly subverted, then would the 
 world be better." 
 
 "What you say is only too true," said Muriel. 
 
 "Yes, Madam, and what I have heard of your own 
 happiness in the wedded state, Mrs. Barrington, and of 
 yours, Mrs. Brandon, makes me feel assured that the inner 
 life of society in this great city is not as bad as it is else 
 where depicted." 
 
 "Thank you deeply for your good words, Bishop," ex 
 claimed Mrs. Brandon. 
 
 "And I will add from my personal knowledge that your 
 good opinion of New York society will bear the severest 
 test," said the hostess. 
 
 It is unnecessary to say that Perry Barrington s feel 
 ings were not the most pleasant during this conversation. 
 Harassed by the previous events of the day, with the fear 
 of the woman s curse upon him, he now began to dread lest 
 her words might be realized in the sting of remorse and
 
 42 A GENTLEMAN BORN. 
 
 shame which came to him. Nevertheless, accustomed for 
 so many years to play a double part, he quickly overcame 
 his feelings and entered into the conversation which 
 gradually drifted in other courses; until, Mrs. Barring- 
 ton rising, her friend retired with her to the drawing- 
 room, leaving the gentlemen to their wine. 
 
 Later in the evening, when the guests had departed, 
 Perry sought the seclusion of his den. It was the same 
 library in which he had met the Italian padrone, Pietro, 
 and arranged for the abduction of Guyon, the same 
 library where so often before he had visited and enjoyed 
 the confidence of his friend, Clarence Beaumont; nor had 
 many changes, in fact, taken place in this room, for Muriel 
 loved to have about little reminders of those old days ; and 
 Perry, so long as his solitude was not intruded upon, cared 
 not a fig for the ghosts of the past which the surroundings 
 might have conjured up. 
 
 He sat there for some time in a careless attitude in 
 haling the fragrance of a Turkish cigarette, and gazing 
 dreamily into the logs which blazed and crackled in the 
 large open fireplace; while his thoughts ever reverted to 
 the woman Mildred and her parting curse. 
 
 "Damn it all !" he exclaimed passionately, "why did 
 I not take the means of banishing her from my life com 
 pletely? And that lost infant too; that brat of a child 
 she bore ; I would that I knew it were dead ! Perhaps 
 this one may rise to confront me some day, she and the boy, 
 Guyon !" and his mind turned upon the memorv that one 
 day some years ago, the padrone had come to him, with 
 well-feigned fear and anxiety, telling that the child had 
 strayed away from his keepers. "Was ever a man so tor 
 tured in his life ?" he muttered. "Even Damocles had but 
 one sword threatening his existence, while a double-edged 
 weapon hangs suspended over me. Hell and Furv ! I 
 shall live it down; I shall not at least be unprepared /
 
 JOHN M CARTT, CONTRACTOR. 43 
 
 CHAPTER IV. 
 JOHN M CARTY, CONTRACTOB. 
 
 THE McCarty home was replete with everything that 
 contributes to mirth and good cheer. Unusual prepara 
 tions had been going on for some time, and with reason; 
 for was not the only son and heir expected home after hav 
 ing completed a brilliant course at Harvard, coming out 
 of the great university second to none, and leaving behind 
 the McCarty name surrounded by a halo of untarnished 
 glory? He was bringing with him, too, his great friend 
 and chum, Harold Brandon, to spend an evening; hence 
 the Missus, forewarned, had been hustling about for weeks, 
 deigning even to consult the fashionable decorator, whose 
 advice she had previously disdained, but whose corps of 
 assistants, with their workmen, soon made sad havoc in 
 her tasty (?) apartments, relegating her most cherished 
 works of art to inglorious oblivion, and with a little out 
 lay of money, transforming the residence into a cozy abode 
 suiting their position in life. 
 
 "It s spiling the house the min are entirely !" exclaimed 
 John, the evening before Guyon s arrival. 
 
 "Do you think so? Well, I dare say the decorator 
 knows what he s about; at least he says he does, and the 
 ladies who called to-day said that it s just too lovely for 
 anything." 
 
 "Humph ! if they say it, it must be so ; but I know the 
 day whin it wus yersel , Mary, as sid ye would have it as ye 
 plased, small thanks ter phwat anny one thought." 
 
 "And if I did, can t I change my mind?"
 
 44 A GENTLEMAN HORN. 
 
 "Faith, ye can that, an it s little say I have in it at all." 
 
 "Now, John, you know that Guy s entered the fashion 
 able .set at College, and will be bringing his friends here; 
 and who knows but we shan t ourselves be invited out! 
 So, we must have the place looking like other people s 
 houses; that is what the decorator says." 
 
 "All right, I ve nothin to say, Mary, only I wish I 
 cud have a few frinds ter see the b y wid his fine airs now." 
 
 "Your friends? A great showing they would make. 
 No, indeed, I d not invite my own society ladies, for Guy 
 wished his home-coming to be quiet Just ourselves, 
 Mother, he wrote." 
 
 "Yis, I know, an I hope that frind o his won t be a 
 stuck up prig of a feller." 
 
 "If he is, you mustn t say anything; and mind to be 
 polite and civil, John." 
 
 The old gentleman had received many a lecture on this 
 subject before, so he concluded to say nothing, and just 
 use his own judgment as to how he should act before the 
 scion of one of the first families in society. 
 
 In due time on the following day, Guyon and Harold 
 arrived, and the latter was heartily glad that he had heard 
 from his chum s lips that these people were only his foster 
 parents, when Guyon, released from "Dad s" enthusias 
 tic embrace, with many a "good, my by, yees a credit ter 
 us, so ye are !" introduced him as his chum, Harry Bran 
 don, and the old gentleman nearly wrenched off his hand 
 in his hearty welcome. 
 
 "Faith, it s glad I am ter know ye, Mr. Brandon, an 
 here s me Missus here as is waitin ter shake hands wid 
 ye." 
 
 "Delighted to meet you, Mrs. McCarty," said Harold, 
 quietly; "your son, Guy, has made us fellows ashamed of 
 ourselves up at the old place."
 
 JOHN MCCARTY, CONTRACTOR. 45 
 
 "You are good to say so, sir," replied the hostess. 
 "Now, would you like to go to your rooms before luncheon ? 
 Guy, you know where yours is, and Mr. Brandon s the next 
 to it." 
 
 "All right, Mother; but haven t you a word for 
 me?" 
 
 "Some other time, Guy, I m so busy no, I must kiss 
 you for what you have done !" and the undemonstrative 
 woman, raised on tiptoe to give Guyon a sounding smack, 
 taking him so much by surprise that he blushed like a 
 young school girl, while his friend hastily retreated to 
 conceal the smile which he could not suppress. 
 
 After luncheon, when they were sitting in the reception- 
 room, the lads, both in buoyant spirits, kept up a lively 
 fire of conversation, relating various exploits of Col 
 lege, while Mr. McCarty, never more jovial, slapped his 
 knee and hurrahed outright; for Harry was telling how 
 Guyon had, as Captain of the Varsity crew, won the race 
 by his excellent manoeuvring. 
 
 "He would make a great leader anywhere," concluded 
 Mr. Brandon, with enthusiasm. 
 
 "That s phwat I m thinkin meseP," exclaimed the old 
 contractor. "Now, if he wus ter go inter politics, fer in 
 stance ?" 
 
 "Just the thing," said Harry. "Why don t you try 
 your hand at it, Guy? I m sure your father can intro 
 duce you to many men in political life." 
 
 "Faith, I can, an I m a mimber of Tammany Hall 
 meser fer years ; an phwy shouldn t me b y after me ?" 
 
 "I m afraid his inclinations don t run in that direction, 
 sir. How about it, Guy?" 
 
 "No, I must say that I am not particularly partial to 
 Tammany Bosses. The whole Democratic organization 
 seems to be an evil rather to be tolerated in our great
 
 40 A GENTLEMAN BORN. 
 
 city, because the masses are led like so many sheep, awed 
 by phantom hopes held out by the leaders at election 
 times." 
 
 "That s a fine speech, me by; but it won t go nowa 
 days. Ye see, there must be Bosses, er leaders, as ye calls 
 em. Faith, hasn t the Eepublicans as big Bosses as iver 
 there wus in Tammany Hall? An thin, as fur the bits 
 o jobs they promises, look at me an see phwat I got by 
 bein a life mimber." 
 
 "There s an argument for you, Guy/ chimed in his 
 friend. 
 
 "You are an exception to the general rule, Dad; 
 your own wit and good judgment have helped you along. 
 Well, we won t fight about politics just now, only I think 
 that the poor men in our city should have a chance to bet 
 ter themselves, and that the money which is uselessly ex 
 pended for political purposes might go towards elevating 
 the masses." 
 
 "Sure, Guy, me lad, phwat ud ye be doin elevatin em 
 at all; would they be happy if they wus livin in a fine 
 house like this, now?" 
 
 "No, I can t say that they would. In fact, I feel that 
 they would be very unhappy. You did not exactly catch 
 my idea, Bad. I meant that they should be elevated 
 to the extent that their homes might be more cleanly, 
 orderly, and furnished with such comforts as their means 
 would allow." 
 
 "That s not a bad idea, Guy/ said Harold. 
 
 "No, the idee isn t bad; but it s the puttin it inter 
 practice. Ye see I knows a little about the poorer class 
 mesel , eeein that " 
 
 "John, don t you think you might show Guy s friend 
 over the house?" interposed Mrs. McCarty, fearful lest 
 her husband was about to make one of his "bad breaks."
 
 JOHN M CARTY, CONTRACTOR. 47 
 
 "There s plenty o time fer that, Mary. As I wus say- 
 in , by, they ll niver have thrift er savin ter make a com 
 fortable home." 
 
 "Not while their earnings are so small, Dad." 
 
 "Faith, thin they can save on small earnin s as well as 
 big." 
 
 "They can indeed; but they should be encouraged. 
 Take the laborers you employ on your large contract jobs 
 now, do you think they are fairly paid?" 
 
 "Now yere hittin home, Guy, an I ll tell ye I pay em 
 as much as I can afford so as ter make a dacent profit fer 
 meseP." 
 
 "And a handsome one at that, Dad, you must acknowl 
 edge. Bear with me when I ask you another question ; are 
 the men satisfied with their wages ?" 
 
 "Don t be surprised at anything Guy says on this sub 
 ject when he is once started," said Harold; "he has been 
 reading every book he can get hold of on this question. 
 Capital vs. Labor has been a great hobby of his, I can tell 
 you." 
 
 "Faith, he ll know better whin he s a bit o experience, 
 so he will!" exclaimed the old gentleman, a little piqued 
 that his adopted son and heir should on the first evening 
 of his return from College, touch upon a topic which was 
 not especially agreeable to him; while his better half did 
 not conceal her disappointment that the boy in whom she 
 had placed such high expectations, should turn out after 
 all to be an advocate of the lower class instead of straining 
 all his energies toward her one great ambition. 
 
 "But, Dad, you have not answered my question," per 
 sisted Guyon. 
 
 "Well, I must say they are not ; in fact the foreman o 
 the gang ter work on the new electric road, wus a tellin 
 me this mornin that he has great fears of a strike ; but let
 
 48 A GENTLEMAN BORN. 
 
 em strike/ sez I, sure we can get as manny more ter 
 fill their places/ " 
 
 "You surely would not turn the men down without a 
 hearing," said Guyon. 
 
 "A hearin is it? Divil a bit I ll give em, Guy." 
 
 And Guyon, seeing that his foster-father was obstinate 
 on this point, deftly changed the subject into a more 
 pleasant current. 
 
 Finally, Mrs. McCarty gained her point, and Harold 
 was shown over the house. His quiet meed of praise was 
 so gratifying to the good woman that she took him into 
 her heart and confidence, explaining how much she hoped 
 from her son s meeting with elegant people, now that he 
 had so grand an education, throwing out a gentle hint that 
 she would not be averse to meeting them herself, all of 
 which Harold listened to, smiling to himself as he thought 
 how amused his mother would be when he related the con 
 versation to her. 
 
 The dinner, an elaborate affair of its kind, was served 
 later in the evening. The old gentleman was not exactly 
 at his ease, for Guyon s utterances still rankled in his soul ; 
 then, too, there was the annoyance of the impending strike, 
 the consequences of which might be greater than he could 
 foresee ; for he had not spoken about the threats of the men 
 which the foreman had overheard and retailed to him that 
 morning.
 
 SWIPSIE BIGLIN. 49 
 
 CHAPTER V. 
 
 SWIPSIE BIGLIN. 
 
 HAROLD was in the midst of a brilliant description of 
 the foot-ball game between Harvard and Princeton, when 
 the butler appeared in the dining-room, pale and trembling 
 with fear. 
 
 "Phwat s the matter wid ye at all? exclaimed Mr. Mc- 
 Carty. "Can t ye spake ? Is the house afire, or burgulars 
 broke in?" 
 
 "Worse n that, sir, Ye ll av ter call the police 
 quick !" 
 
 "Police !" screamed the Missus. "Oh, John, do see what 
 is the matter." 
 
 "It s jest this, Mam," the butler explained, regaining 
 his breath and a little courage at the sight of Mr. Mc- 
 Carty going over to the police call ; "it s jest this : there s 
 a crowd o the worst men I ever seed outside the ouse this 
 minit; an they say as they ll kill the master, an fire the 
 ouse, ef e doan do as they wants im to." 
 
 "Who are these men, Dad, do you know?" asked 
 Guyon, rising from the table. 
 
 "Who are they? The damned shtrikers, that s who; 
 but we ll do em up fine, so we will. I ll have the polaice. 
 here in a minit." 
 
 "Don t call the police, Dad," exclaimed Guyon, placing 
 his back against the call-box. 
 
 "Is it you that s goin ter takes sides wid the likes o
 
 50 A GENTLEMAN BORN. 
 
 thim against me ? You who who ?" and the old man was 
 so overcome by his emotions that he could not utter an 
 other word. 
 
 "There is not time to discuss the question now, Bad. 
 Yes, I know all you have done for me; and I cannot for 
 get that I was once a boy of the streets myself." 
 
 "What are you saying ?" exclaimed Mrs. McCarty, prop 
 erly shocked ; for all her air-castles seemed to have fallen 
 to the earth in complete ruin. 
 
 There was a pause of a moment while from without 
 came a mighty roar, and the front door was banged and 
 shaken by the bolder of the crowd. 
 
 "Phwat are yees goin ter do, annyhow? Am I ter 
 have me house tored down over me hid an niver call in 
 the polaice protection?" 
 
 "Call it, and what will be the result?" said Guy on 
 quietly. "A score of these poor ignorant fellows badly 
 hurt with the clubbing they will get, some arrests made, 
 you will be called into court, your name will appear in the 
 papers as the oppressor of the laboring class." 
 
 Bang, bang! came the thundering at the door. The 
 servants from all parts of the house nocked into the din 
 ing-room like so many frightened sheep. 
 
 "Phwat in the worruld will I do? Tell me, Guy, an 
 I ll listen ter ye. I m a most out o me wits." 
 
 "Do nothing, Dad; just quiet Mother and these people 
 here. I will go out and speak to the men." 
 
 "You? Oh, don t go, Guy! You ll be killed!" cried 
 Mrs. McCarty. 
 
 "No fear of that. I shall bring them to terms." 
 
 At that, Guyon hastened out to the hall, unbarred the 
 door, and as the first intruder would have entered, he gave 
 him a blow which sent him reeling from the porch. The 
 rest fell back for a moment amazed.
 
 8WIPSIE BIQLIN. 51 
 
 "Down wid im! Down wid de bloody ristocrat, down 
 wid de cap talis !" shouted the mob. 
 
 "Men, hear me!" cried Guyon, stepping near to the 
 crowd; while they, admiring his pluck, ceased shouting, 
 although murmurings still went up from the throng. 
 
 "Hear me!" he cried again. "I m not an aristocrat; 
 I m one of yourselves; I was once a street lad and I feel 
 for your condition." 
 
 "Show it, den; we wants more money, see?" cried one. 
 
 " Ee s only jollyin us, ter keep us til de coppers come, 
 see?" shouted another. 
 
 "Whether you believe me or not, I am your friend, and 
 as such advise you to disperse before the officers of the 
 law fall upon you. Let three from among you come up 
 to me here, and I will make such terms as will be agreeable 
 to you. This I promise to do; but I will not make any 
 settlement unless you disperse." 
 
 " Ear, ear !" cried a voice in the crowd. "De bloke chins 
 good; let s try im, fellers." 
 
 Then they got together, and after much shouting and 
 dissension, a trio of the toughest element of the gang, who 
 appeared to be leaders, approached the porch, while the 
 others slunk off, in the nick of time ; for a squad of police 
 men at this moment appeared on the scene; and the 
 sergeant in command, at Guyon s suggestion, leaving a 
 couple of officers to guard the house, withdrew his men. 
 
 Harold now came out and stood beside his friend, not 
 uttering a word or offering a suggestion, but admiring 
 his tact and courage. "He is surely a leader of men, no 
 matter what his origin may be," was his mental comment. 
 
 When the appointed committee reached the spot where 
 Guyon and his friend were standing, Guyon held out his 
 hand, which each one reluctantly took. One of them, a 
 great, brawny fellow with a shock of red hair, and a.
 
 52 A GENTLEMAN BORN. 
 
 face which once seen is not easily forgotten, gazed curiously 
 at Guyon hung back, came forward again, put out his 
 hand a second time, and grasping Guyon s in a mighty 
 squeeze, exclaimed: 
 
 " Ee s not a stringin youse at all, blokes, see? It s me 
 own pal, es sure es I m standin ere." 
 
 "You are not Swipsie Biglin?" asked Guyon,, gazing 
 at the face upturned to his as the electric light in the street 
 revealed his countenance. 
 
 "Swipsie wus me name oncet, but it s Patsey now, cause 
 I aven t swiped none since youse goed away, Guy." 
 
 "Honest, my man? Truly, I believe you. To think 
 that for my sake you would do this ! This is the Irish lad 
 of my story, Hal ; we were once as chummy in our way as 
 you and I are now." 
 
 "An it wus brudders we. wus fer fair. Youse doan go 
 agin dat, Guy, if youse is a big bloke like de res o dem." 
 
 "Brothers, sure enough ! No, I am not likely to forget 
 the old times. Now tell me your grievance and why you 
 have come here to make a riotous attack upon my fos 
 ter-father s house." 
 
 "Wese blokes cudn t elp t, Guy. Wus de dago fellers 
 dat made de row, an mos it wus dat bloke, de foreman, 
 wot de Boss as. E s jes cut us down an down, till wese 
 doan git nuff fer a kid ter live on, see?" 
 
 "I understand; and I think that I can change it all 
 for you. How would you like to be foreman, Biglin?" 
 
 "Me ? Hully gee, Guy, dat ud be a ded cinch ! Wudn t 
 I gie de blokies a dandy time?" 
 
 "You would see that they did their work properly, pro 
 vided they were sufficiently well paid for it ?" 
 
 "On yer life, Guy, youse knows me, youse does." 
 
 "Yes, and I can trust you. Come here to-morrow,
 
 SWIPSIE BIGLIN. 53 
 
 and I will have the arrangements completed. Mean 
 while, see the men and prevail upon them to come to work." 
 
 "Sure ! I ll lick ell out o ev ry one o dem dat doan 
 cum, see?" 
 
 Then Guyon again gave his hand to the men, who were 
 lost in wonder seeing "de bloody ristocrat" on friendly 
 terms with one of their class, and they went away re 
 joicing. 
 
 Entering the house, the young men found the contractor 
 ana his wife anxious to learn the result of the conference. 
 They were delighted to find that neither had received an 
 injury. 
 
 "Ye re a brave lad, Guy," said Mr. McCarty. "An how 
 did ye make out wid the crowd, I dunno." 
 
 "Very well, when I could induce them to listen to me ;" 
 then Guyon told what had happened, and when he came 
 to the part where Biglin had appeared as spokesman for 
 the crowd, the old gentleman exclaimed : 
 
 "Phwat, not the same b y ye lift wid me frind, Mr. 
 Swithers, now?" 
 
 "The very same ; and I want you to make him foreman 
 of the gang." 
 
 "Foreman, is it? Isn t Johnson good enough fer the 
 likes o thim blackguards?" 
 
 But when Guyon explained the meagre wages the men 
 received, and how they were cut and cut until almost noth 
 ing remained, he became greatly excited. 
 
 "The villain! He did that same, did >ee? Sure, I 
 niver meant thim to be cut down so bad. Faith, it s in 
 his pockets the wages is goin , the rascal thafe." 
 
 "You will discharge him, Dad, and have Biglin in his 
 place? He is an honest fellow, I can assure you." 
 
 "It s mesel that knows the same. Sure, I ll do anny- 
 thing ye ax me this night, Guy ! An it s a fool I made
 
 54 A GENTLEMAN BORN. 
 
 o meseF, pickin up a quarrel wid yer only it does come 
 that hard ter ave the likes o ye tellin me phwat ter do." 
 "All right, Dad. I assure you that the task was odious 
 to me, but the occasion was critical, and there was no other 
 course." 
 
 "I tell you what, Guy," said Harold, before they parted 
 that night, "since you will not permit me to work openly 
 in your cause, you cannot refuse me the pleasure of in 
 troducing you into the highest set in society." 
 
 "No, I will go that far with you," replied Guyon re 
 flectively. 
 
 "Well, what do you say to joining us at Newport this 
 season? Everyone is there now. Father has quite a jolly 
 establishment, and Mother will be only too delighted to have 
 you for her guest." 
 "When do you go?" 
 "To-morrow, I think." 
 
 "Very well. I will give you a few days in which to 
 settle down, and then, if I may intrude upon your hospi 
 tality for a short time, I shall enjoy it immensely." 
 
 So it was settled that Guyon was to be launched into 
 the whirl of society at Newport. His foster-mother over- 
 Avhelmed him with her embraces and blandest flattery 
 when she understood what the invitation conveyed; and 
 his "Dad" placed his check-book at his disposal. Fortified 
 by all these good things, especially by the latter, why 
 should not the son of a McCarty take his place beside the 
 highest in the land?
 
 THE SEASON AT NEWPORT. 55 
 
 CHAPTER VI. 
 
 THE SEASON AT NEWPORT. 
 
 "Do YOU tell me that Harold Brandon is to bring that 
 chum of his to our ball, to-night? 7 
 
 "Certainly, Mabel, that is what he says ; at least, he 
 does not say it in so many words he asks that he may be 
 allowed to bring him." 
 
 "Oh, that is different. Of course, your Mamma will 
 refuse when I make an objection." 
 
 "I cannot see why you should object ; why, you have not 
 even met the young gentleman yet; and besides, you you 
 wonld not refuse Harold for my sake." 
 
 "I would do very much for you, Esther dear! Still, 
 this ball is given especially for me ; and I, being a South 
 ern girl with Southern traits and ideas, naturally desire 
 our set to be maintained in its entire exelusiveness." 
 
 "I suppose it is because I haven t made my debut in 
 society that I cannot appreciate your argument. To me, 
 one gentleman is as good as another, provided, of course, 
 that he is a gentleman." 
 
 "And pray, what warrant have you that Harold Bran 
 don s particular chum is a gentleman? Surely, not his 
 name McCarty bah ! it s Irish, and low Irish at that." 
 
 "As to whether he is Irish or not, I cannot answer; 
 but as to his being a gentleman, the fact that he has been 
 received as a guest at the Brandon home, is sufficient war 
 rant, in my estimation. Besides, Mabel, Harold says that 
 he carried off the first honors at Harvard this year."
 
 56 A GENTLEMAN BORN. 
 
 "Harold, Harold, always Harold! Really, Esther, 
 you sly puss, I shall soon begin to believe that you are in 
 love with a certain handsome young gentleman of that 
 
 name." 
 "For shame, Mabel. Mamma says it s dreadful to speak 
 
 of love to a young girl of sixteen ; but I do like Harold." 
 This little bit of feminine conversation was going on 
 in the boudoir of Miss Esther Barrington, in the palatial 
 residence belonging to her father, Perry Barrington, at 
 Newport. The mansion itself had been in the Beaumont 
 family for years before Muriel s second marriage; since 
 that time, it had been remodeled on so large a scale, that 
 it now stood second to none among the princely abodes of 
 wealth on the Cliffs. 
 
 The site was admirably well chosen, on an eminence 
 above the bay, commanding a view on the one side of the 
 city, lying a little distance to the south, of the other man 
 sions at no great distance away; while, from the front, 
 one looked down upon the great driveway, the beach, and 
 the endless expanse of the sea. The name Beaucliff was 
 singularly appropriate for the place, as the rugged face 
 of the rocks was unbroken in the ascent by trees or shrubs, 
 save near the topmost edge; while the grounds immedi 
 ately surrounding the house were carefully kept, display 
 ing the landscape gardener s skill in the many lawns and 
 terraces. Even among the cliffs his genius had been work 
 ing, making curious little paths with now and again a rus 
 tic bridge over some miniature rift in the rocks, and giv 
 ing to the scene a decidedly romantic appearance. 
 
 Esther, Muriel Barrington s only child, was fast ap 
 proaching the age when she must take her place in society. 
 Even now she was the pet of the household, and of the set 
 in which she moved. In her budding beauty, she was of 
 the brunette type, inherited from her father; while her
 
 THE SEASON AT NEWPORT. 57 
 
 mother shone in her deep violet eyes. In disposition, 
 temperament and habits, she was decidedly like Muriel. 
 In fact, not one of her father s traits had as yet made 
 its appearance. 
 
 Mabel Gordon, Perry s ward, had been for some months 
 a guest in the Barrington family. Her people were of 
 the good old Virginia stock, proud of their ancestry, but 
 boasting of little besides their name. Had it not been 
 for a fortunate investment which her father made shortly 
 before his death, Mabel, instead of being a beautiful heir 
 ess, would have been dependent upon the charity of some 
 distant relative. As it was, basking in the smiles of 
 fickle fate, possessed of most fascinating manners, and 
 a well-cultured mind, she had, as yet, found no dearth of 
 suitors for her hand, not only among the Southern gentle 
 men, but even, at this early period, among the swell set 
 in New York society. 
 
 Even as she sat there in her friend s boudoir, half re 
 clining on an elegant couch, toying, with a rose which she 
 had plucked from among several buds at her bosom, she 
 was a picture for an artist to study. Her clear, creamy 
 complexion and light blue eyes were set off by a wealth of 
 auburn hair; yet, withal, she was strangely cold for a 
 Southern belle; so much so that Esther was oftentimes 
 puzzled by her manner, wondering if it were really a qual 
 ity which comes to every debutante, and if she herself 
 must some day assume it, were it really assumed, and not 
 a genuine part of her friend s nature. For there were 
 topics upon which Mabel could grow warm and enthu 
 siastic. The latest expression of ebullition of spirits be 
 ing the ball which had been announced for that very even 
 ing in her honor. 
 
 "It is a silly nonsense, this love!" said Mabel, break 
 ing the silence, during which she had been mercilessly
 
 5 g A GENTLEMAN BORN. 
 
 tearing to pieces the fragrant flower, gazing the while into 
 space in a fit of abstraction. 
 
 "Do you think so, May? Why, you have told me of 
 ever so many cases/ as you called them, down in Eich- 
 mond. There was Mr. Fairfax, the rising young lawyer, 
 and Mr. Breckenridge, of untold wealth, and Mr. " 
 
 "Oh, dear me ! I did not think you had so excellent a 
 memory, Es. Ha, ha, ha! poor dear fellows! What 
 idiots they made of themselves at last ! Do you know, I 
 hadn t the slightest idea they were in love with me, deed I 
 hadn t. Fairfax was a capital chap, brainy, too; but he 
 bored me to death after a while. Then Breckenridge 
 was a tolerably good partner in the valse oh, he was 
 good! gave me a grand time; and his people are known 
 all over the South." 
 
 "Still, you could not love him, May?" 
 
 "Love him, pet, oh, dear me! let s talk of something 
 else. Do you know, I am positively sleepy, and it s not 
 noon yet." 
 
 "How about George Barclay, May?" continued Esther, 
 with girlish persistency. 
 
 "Barclay?" and a telltale blush just tinged the young 
 beauty s cheek. 
 
 "Yes; don t you remember the stunning chap you met 
 on the golf links ?" 
 
 "Ye-es, I think I remember him. He is invited for to 
 night, is he not?" 
 
 "As though you did not know it, when you went over 
 the list with Mamma before the invites were sent." 
 
 "Well, what about him? You surely don t want me 
 to fall in love with a Northerner ? It s decidedly against 
 my principles, the very idea !" 
 
 "Is it very wrong for a Southern girl to marry a gen 
 tleman from the North ?"
 
 THE SEASON AT NEWPORT. 59 
 
 "In general it may not be so wrong; but for myself, I 
 prefer the united South." 
 
 "You had better not repeat those sentiments before 
 Papa, May; it s so shocking!" 
 
 "Then let us change the conversation." 
 
 "Do you know, I m just dying to get a peep at the 
 rooms downstairs, when everything is completed! They 
 are at work on them now ; and Mamma says I may look at 
 the ball-room, because I shall not be down to-night." 
 
 "Poor child ! exclaimed Mabel, as though she were 
 ages older than Esther. "I know exactly how you feel 
 about it; and I cannot see why a young girl like you 
 should be debarred from every pleasure just because you 
 have not made your bow* in society." 
 
 "That s my very grievance, May. If I were dreadfully 
 ugly, and awkward in the dance, or frightfully stupid now, 
 all this might rise against me as an excuse." 
 
 "But you are neither, dear. I assure you there will be 
 ladies present who cannot compare with you either in 
 beauty or in grace. Maybe it s because they are afraid 
 some gentleman might fall in love with so young and 
 petite a demoiselle." 
 
 "Nonsense, May. No gentleman shall whisper a word 
 of that to me -until I am good and ready to listen to him." 
 
 "Not even Harry Brandon?" 
 
 "There you go again ! Now, for a forfeit, I am going 
 to demand that you extend an invite to his friend." 
 
 "It s too late, Esther." 
 
 "Why, it s not noon yet ; and besides, one of the footmen 
 can run over to the Brandon home in a moment." 
 
 "It s too late in a point of etiquette, I mean ; and really 
 I don t care to have him." 
 
 "You may be sorry, Mabel; he may be the very man 
 Heaven has destined for you."
 
 60 A GENTLEMAN BORN. 
 
 "That is rich ! Fancy me wedded to a McCarty ! Mrs. 
 McCarty, if you please/ she exclaimed, rising and bow 
 ing with a comic grimace to her beautiful reflection in the 
 mirror. "Then I might add my maiden name, and my 
 cards should read, Mrs. Gordon McCarty. Really, it is 
 striking. Esther, I m half inclined to grant your peti 
 tion." 
 
 "Your are just too sweet for anything, May." 
 
 "There, there don t devour me with your caressesj 
 lest I might prove a bitter-sweet to you." 
 
 "You will send the note to Harry ?" 
 
 "Oh, yes; give me the tablet, I m too lazy to sit at the 
 desk this morning." 
 
 The messenger bearing the missive, the inditing of 
 which had caused so much discussion between the young 
 ladies at Beaucliff, was obliged to leave it at the Brandon 
 residence to be delivered to the young gentleman on his 
 return ; for Harold and Guyon had gone out for a spin on 
 the charming driveway that morning behind a pair of 
 the fastest trotters in the stables. 
 
 When the young gentlemen entered the house after their 
 drive, the dainty missive fi..a Beaucliff was placed in 
 Harold s hand. 
 
 "By Jove!" he exclaimed. "See here, Guy, it s from 
 the Lady Gordon herself; I know her style," and, hastily 
 breaking the seal, he read : 
 
 "MY DEAR MR. BRANDON : I sincerely regret the over 
 sight by which your friend, Mr. McCarty s, name was 
 omitted from your invite. Nothing will give me greater 
 pleasure than to meet him to-night. 
 
 "MABEL GORDON." 
 
 "How about it, Guy, are you satisfied with the general 
 tone of the note ?"
 
 THE SEASON AT NEWPORT. 61 
 
 "Yes as an afterthought, it is excellent." 
 "That sarcasm does not become you, sir; still, I cannot 
 blame you. Mark, she says : Nothing will give me greater 
 pleasi^.re! Is it an omen, eh, Guy?" 
 
 "Don t be foolish, Hal; of course it s not an omen or 
 anything except a polite way out of a difficulty smooth 
 ing down one s ruffled spirits, so to speak."
 
 62 A GENTLEMAN BORN. 
 
 CHAPTER VII. 
 LOVE AT SIGHT. 
 
 GUYON had prevailed upon his friend to delay their 
 appearance at the ball to the latest possible moment. Not 
 that he was at all nervous considering the prospect of meet 
 ing so many notable ladies and gentlemen, but as he told 
 Harold, that he might behold the spectacle complete, in 
 all its richness of color and appointments, upon his en 
 trance. Nor was the picture which greeted his vision a 
 shade off from the imaginary one. 
 
 In the reception-room, countless incandescent bulbs in 
 massive chandeliers shed a flood of glory on the scene, 
 revealing a dazzling whiteness in the costumes of the 
 ladies, and sparkling in the gems they wore. There were 
 no end of palms and rare exotic plants, while the grand 
 old mantel was one massive bank of roses. The night 
 being warm, the windows were thrown open to the 
 veranda, which extended the full length of the house and 
 which was transformed into a pleasure garden lighted with 
 the tiniest bulbs concealed among the foliage of the plants, 
 and among: the vines which partially hid the scene beyond. 
 
 Mabel Gordon, in a superb costume of white satin with 
 pearls, and a corsage of lilies of the valley, stood by the 
 side of Mrs. Barrington receiving her guests. 
 
 * Is that the lady of whom you spoke?" whispered 
 Guyon, as they stood for a moment in the doorway. 
 
 fes, old fellow. By Jove, I never saw her look so 
 stunningly beautiful ! Have a care, Guy !"
 
 LOVE AT SIGHT. 63 
 
 There was no time for further comment. They passed 
 into the room, and a moment later were standing before the 
 belle of the evening. 
 
 "So you have come, Harold?" said Mrs. Barrington. 
 "I looked for you earlier. Mabel, you have met Mr. 
 Brandon?" 
 
 "Yes, and am right charmed to greet you to-night," 
 murmured the Beauty, glancing from him to the gentle 
 man beside him, and wondering if he could be the low 
 Irish chap she had reluctantly invited. 
 
 "Allow me to present my dearest friend, Mr. McCarty," 
 said Harold. 
 
 "Mabel, my fan, child, oh, dear, what shall I do!" 
 exclaimed the hostess, the color fading from her cheeks as 
 she looked upon Guyon, standing there with gentlemanly 
 grace and dignity. 
 
 "Are you ill, Madam?" asked Guyon, with evident 
 alarm. 
 
 "No, it has passed now. Do you know, Mr. McCarty, 
 you remind me strangely of one who was very dear to 
 me? I am so pleased that you have come, and trust that 
 we shall see more of you at Beaucliff. Mabel, this is 
 Harold s college chum of whom we have heard so much." 
 
 "So delighted to know you, Mr. McCarty," said the 
 young lady, laying particular emphasis upon the name. 
 "This is my first appearance in Newport society, you 
 know. Everything is so different here from the South." 
 
 "Indeed, I was not aware of that/ replied Guyon, feast 
 ing his eyes upon the beautiful vision and asking himself 
 was it a real, living form, or a fanciful dream to vanish 
 in a moment ; but her eyes met his unflinchingly, thrilling 
 him with a strange, subtle emotion. "We are at least on 
 the same footing in one respect," he continued, "for this 
 is also my first season at Newport,"
 
 64 A GENTLEMAN BORN. 
 
 "And your first appearance in society, too, though you 
 do not look it," was Miss Gordon s mental comment. "My, 
 he s as swell as any gentleman here." 
 
 "I am afraid that we must plead guilty to a little tardi 
 ness in arriving," said Harold. 
 
 "Of which I was the cause no, Hal, I will take a just 
 share in the apology. I wished to catch a glimpse of the 
 whole scene after the guests had assembled," Guyon re 
 marked. 
 
 "Has it met your expectations ?" asked the hostess, whose 
 eyes, wandering about the room, ever reverted to Guyon. 
 
 "Yes, perfectly. It is something I shall never forget." 
 
 "You have an artist s eye, I think. Wait until you see 
 the veranda and the ball-room." 
 
 "Speaking of the ball, reminds me that I have not asked 
 your favor for a dance, Miss Gordon," said Harold. 
 
 "You cannot expect it now, sir, at this hour. Listen, 
 they are summoning us to the dance ! We are right late, 
 I reckon." 
 
 "Just one valse," he pleaded. 
 
 "Well, let me see, there are two vacant. You may 
 have them both," she added quickly, fearing lest Guyon 
 might claim one of them. 
 
 "I am not so selfish. I know that Mr. McCarty is 
 waiting for an opportunity to make a like petition." 
 
 "Really, if Miss Gordon will be so kind," ventured 
 Guyon. 
 
 "I did not know that you cared to dance," remarked the 
 fair miss, carelessly. 
 
 "Yes, I am passionately fond of it. May I have the 
 valse Mr. Brandon has so generously relinquished?" 
 
 "Certainly, here is my program. Why, Mr. Barclay!" 
 she exclaimed, as a dapper young chap sauntered up to 
 the group, "I thought you would never come. Our cotillion
 
 LOVE AT SIGHT. 65 
 
 is called ! You know Harold Brandon, I am sure ; and this 
 is his friend, Mr. McCarty." 
 
 "I tender my humblest apologies, Miss Gordon. Harry, 
 glad to see you again. Mr. McCarty, delighted to know 
 you. I ll see you later, boys;" and the couple moved off 
 among the guests who were seeking the ball-room. 
 
 "Are you not going to dance the cotillion, gentlemen?" 
 inquired Mrs. Barrington. 
 
 "If you will permit us to escort you to a place where 
 you can enjoy the dancing, we will be only too pleased," 
 said Harold. "You see, we arrived so late we could not 
 expect to obtain partners for the opening dance." 
 
 "That s is true ; and as a penalty, I will ask you gentle 
 men to join the group of elderly people at the far end of 
 the ball-room. Your Father and Mother are there, 
 Harold, and so is my husband, whom I want Mr. McCarty 
 to meet." 
 
 "You will accompany us, will you not?" asked Guyon, 
 who felt singularly attracted to this lovely lady. "What 
 is it," he asked himself, "that causes me to be so much at 
 ease in her presence?" 
 
 "Oh, yes, I could not leave you alone now; and I shall 
 have to hunt up a charming young partner for you, bye 
 and bye." 
 
 "How about me, Mrs. Barrington?" chimed in 
 Harold. 
 
 "You naughty boy!" exclaimed the hostess tapping 
 him with her fan. "As though you have not met all the 
 young ladies present to-night. I fancy you would not 
 be long securing a partner, even though you knew not 
 one." 
 
 "You have an exalted opinion of my fascinating quali 
 ties, I think. However, I shall appropriate your remark 
 as a compliment."
 
 66 A GENTLEMAN BORN. 
 
 "Not another word, sir ! Here we are at the ball-room, 
 and you must manoeuvre our course to the further end, 
 Harold." 
 
 Guyon s attention was at once attracted and his senses, 
 enthralled by the splendor of the place. It was lavish 
 in all its appointments, decorated in the Louis XIV. 
 style, lighted by numerous incandescent bulbs, which 
 were hidden among the heavy pendants of crystal on either 
 side of the room. At one end, the quaint Venetian win 
 dows opened, as those of the reception-room, upon the 
 veranda where the musicians were stationed; and at the 
 other, were the massive doors opening to the banquet- 
 hall. 
 
 They reached the desired spot where Perry Barrington 
 was entertaining a few of the older guests, including Mr. 
 and Mrs. Brandon. As they approached, the latter shook 
 her fan with a comic gesture at her son, saying: 
 
 "For shame, Harry, to think that you caused Mr. Mc- 
 Carty to miss the first dance, where he might have met 
 so many i ~ f - he young ladies." 
 
 "I have met one of them," replied Guyon quietly. 
 
 "Miss Gordon, I wager; and does that imply that you 
 are contented for the nisrht ?" 
 
 "By no means ; but I scarcely think I can meet one more 
 beautiful." 
 
 "Do you hear him, Perry? And you, Muriel? I tell 
 you, you will have to keep your eyes upon this young gentle 
 man to-night." 
 
 "Mr. Barrington, I want you to know Harold s friend, 
 Mr. McCarty," said Muriel; and Perry, taking Guyon s 
 hand, experienced a strange sensation permeating his 
 whole body. "Clarence s self, or his son !" he thought. 
 "Great God, I am undone!" Still, his face betrayed no 
 sign of his emotion as he greeted the young gentleman.
 
 LOVE AT 81GRT. 67 
 
 "You are welcome, sir," he said, "as Harry s friend and 
 for your own sake. We must see you often at Beaucliff." 
 
 Thank you, sir, I shall be most happy to avail myself 
 of your invitation/ 
 
 "So you are the young gentleman who carried off the 
 honors at the Varsity ? Mr. Brandon here has been sing 
 ing your praises so long that we almost thought we knew 
 you. And you are not an Irish lad after all, as they re 
 ported you?" 
 
 "No, sir, I am not Irish, as far I know. I am a New 
 York boy." 
 
 "But your name is decidedly Irish, is it not?" queried 
 Mrs. Brandon. 
 
 "What you say is true, Madam. My parents are of that 
 nationality." 
 
 "You are a son of the famous contractor of that name ?" 
 ventured Perry, who was more and more convinced that 
 he was conversing with Guy on Beaumont; yet he was 
 anxious to hear him proclaim his parentage, that his 
 wife, whose gaze he more than once detected resting upon 
 her son, might be disillusionized of such an idea. 
 
 "Yes, sir," replied Guyon, looking him steadily in the 
 eye, at which Perrv turned about nervously and pretended 
 to be watching the dancers. "My Father, Mr. John Mc- 
 Carty, is the person of whom you speak." 
 
 "See, Muriel!" exclaimed Mrs. Brandon, "the cotillion 
 is finished ; and here comes that charming girl, Belle Har- 
 court. I promised her that I would introduce her to Mr. 
 McCarty," she whispered. 
 
 "No Harcourts, tennis-courts or any other courts for 
 me!" said Harold. "I m off on another quest." 
 
 "Don t forget Esther to-night," said his Mother in a 
 little aside. 
 
 "No fear of that, Mater. Take care of yourself, Guy!"
 
 68 A GENTLEMAN BORN. 
 
 No one heard the last word but Perry; and if he had 
 a doubt as to Guvon s identity, it vanished now. Tor 
 tured beyond measure, and feeling that he must show his 
 imitation if he remained longer in the group, he asked Mr. 
 Brandon to join him in a quiet smoke on the veranda, 
 leaving the ladies to their friendly gossip. 
 
 "Miss Harcourt, this is Mr. McCarty, of whom you have 
 heard, no doubt/ said Mrs. Brandon, as her protege ap 
 proached, a petite blonde, gowned in a costume of pink. 
 
 "I am pleased to know you, Mr. McCarty," she mur 
 mured; then to Mrs. Barrington: "Do you know, I am 
 tired to death of that dreadful dance? I always do de 
 test cotillions; and I saw you over here so cozy and com 
 fortable, and thought you wouldn t mind if I intruded," 
 casting a shy glance up at Guyon, whose tall, handsome 
 figure towered above her. "My, he s just grand, and not 
 a bit Irish !" sla thought. 
 
 "We are only too pleased to have you, dear." replied the 
 hostess. "I was only now looking out for a partner for 
 Mr. McCarty in the next valse." 
 
 "Perhaps you are too fatigued ?" said Guyon. 
 
 "Too fatigued for a valse? You don t know me, doos 
 he, Mrs. Brandon?" 
 
 "You will give me the pleasure, then?" queried Guyon. 
 
 "Certainly; it s the only one left on my program. I 
 really don t know how it was missed," she added, knowing 
 in her heart that she had saved this very dance for a par 
 ticular young gentleman she had been dying to meet. 
 
 "We must be off, now, the music invites us." said Guyon. 
 
 "I m ready. Eeally, I didn t think you could dance so 
 well !" she exclaimed. 
 
 ^ Didn t you? I m very fond of it, I assure you." 
 
 "Did you dance much at College ?" 
 
 "Not often we hadn t time for that, you know."
 
 LOVE AT SIGHT. 69 
 
 "Of course not. I bet you went in for foot-ball, didn t 
 you, now?" 
 
 "Certainly; they all do up there."- 
 
 "And boating?" 
 
 "I must confess to a passion for that." 
 
 "I knew it. You look so big and strong, I fancy you 
 could manage a yacht all by yourself, couldn t you?" 
 
 "Well, I wouldn t be afraid to try." 
 
 "Do you know, George Barclay has the grandest 
 yacht." 
 
 "Has he?" 
 
 Yes, indeed; and he takes us girls out often. It s 
 too jolly for anything !" 
 
 "He runs it himself?" ventured Guyon. 
 
 "Not he! Doesn t know the first thing about it; but 
 he has his own captain and crew I tell you, he s quite a 
 swell." 
 
 "No wonder the young ladies fancy his company." 
 
 "I didn t say they all liked him. There he is now with 
 Miss Gordon. I bet she s given him every dance !" 
 "What makes you think so ?" 
 
 "Oh, nothing; only they are so much together. Don t 
 you think Mabel Gordon is perfect ?" she asked in her gush 
 ing style. 
 
 "She is decidedly beautiful," replied Guyon in such an 
 earnest tone that his partner looked up at him in sur 
 prise. 
 
 He was begining to tire of her endless chatter; but he 
 enjoyed the dance, and, as Mrs. Brandon had said, her 
 motion was most graceful.. His eyes now sought the 
 vision which had passed quite near to him; and he saw 
 Miss Gordon, flushed with the excitement of the valse, 
 her eyes sparkling with merriment, apparently drinking 
 in the words which Barclay was uttering. "She grows
 
 70 A GENTLEMAN BORN. 
 
 more beautiful each time I look at her," thought Guyon ; 
 and with the thought came a longing in his heart for the 
 moment when he might have the happiness which Barclay 
 now enjoyed. "Will she he as brilliant when I am in his 
 place?" he asked himself. 
 
 "Did you say anything, sir?" murmured the damsel at 
 his side. 
 
 "Not that I know of. Are you not tired?" 
 
 "No, indeed, only only, you have been looking about 
 in so abstracted a manner, I feared lest you yourself 
 might be weary." 
 
 "Not at all, I was only thinking a little. Pardon me, 
 it was very rude." 
 
 "Oh, I don t mind now that you ve come back from 
 dreamland; only, please don t vanish entirely." 
 
 "Here we are at the end of it. May I procure something 
 for you?" 
 
 "I don t mind having an ice, please." And Guyon, 
 leaving his partner with Mrs. Brandon, where a bevy of 
 young girls had congregated, hastened to procure the de 
 sired refreshment. On his return, he was introduced to 
 all the girls in the group, who, notwithstanding their re 
 luctance to admitting him into their set, were won at first 
 by the example of Mrs. Barrington and her friend, after 
 wards by the polished manners of the young gentleman 
 himself.
 
 A SOUTHERN BELLE. 71 
 
 CHAPTER VIII. 
 
 A SOUTHERN BELLE. 
 
 DURING the time which intervened before the dance 
 which Guyon so ardently coveted, he found many part 
 ners among the young ladies present, most of whom were 
 captivated by his graceful dancing and his handsome 
 appearance. He was enjoying the evening immensely, 
 entering into the conversation of the gay demoiselles at his 
 side, but ever mindful of the fact that not one of these 
 was capable of awakening a single ray of sentiment in 
 his heart. 
 
 Finally, his valse was announced. He approached where 
 the Southern belle sat, the centre of a group of young 
 gentlemen, who were vying with each other in their de 
 voted attention. 
 
 "Ah, Mr. McCarty," she said, "you have not forgotten 
 me entirely, I see/ 
 
 "That would have been impossible/ he replied earnestly, 
 as they moved out on the floor. 
 
 "You appear to have been enjoying yourself right well 
 in the meantime." 
 
 "Why should I not? Everything is so novel to me; 
 besides, I have had excellent partners this evening." 
 
 "They are all dear, sweet girls ! Didn t you find them 
 right captivating?" 
 
 "Captivating? No; I cannot say that I did." 
 
 "But still you had not leisure to say a word to me dur 
 ing all this time," she said with just a touch of pique
 
 72 A GENTLEMAN BORN. 
 
 in her tone, glancing at him with the full lustre of her 
 deep blue eyes until his heart beat with a strange, new hap 
 piness. 
 
 "Did you really want me ?" he asked softly. "Honestly, 
 I feared to intrude into your gay, happy set; that is the 
 reason I did not seek you before. Will you permit me to 
 say that I have been longing for this dance ever since 1 
 placed my name on your program ?" 
 
 "Another conquest, sure as fate !" thought Mabel ; then 
 aloud: "Please don t say any more in that strain Do 
 you know, I am the veriest heretic where sentiment is 
 concerned." 
 
 "I assure you, it is not idle sentiment, Miss Gordon; 
 I speak from the earnestness of my feelings." 
 
 "Well, I shall grant that you are honest still, let us 
 change the topic. Where did you learn to dance so well, 
 Mr. McCarty?" 
 
 "That same question has been asked by almost every 
 young lady with whom I danced to-night. I really don t 
 know; it seems to come naturally to me." 
 
 "Everything comes naturally to him, I reckon," thought 
 the belle. "One would think he was a born gentleman, 
 only he is more sincere in his manner than most of 
 them." 
 
 "You have never been South, have you?" queried Miss 
 Gordon. 
 
 "No, but from what I have heard of the Southern 
 people, I should like nothing better than an extended so 
 journ among them." 
 
 "Do you think that I am a fair specimen of a South 
 erner, as far as your knowledge of them goes ?" 
 
 "A most fair representative, I imagine. I have pic 
 tured the young lady of the South as one of surpassing 
 beauty."
 
 A SOUTHERN BELLE. 73 
 
 "Stop right there! You do not wish me to quarrel 
 with you when we are getting on so nicely? No senti 
 ment and no flattery ! please remember." 
 
 "I really did not intend it for flattery. Surely, you 
 must concede that flattery is generally allied to falsehood, 
 whereas my words are the sober truth." 
 
 "I respect you for your honesty, sir," she said quietly, 
 letting her eyes dwell for a moment on his. "My, what 
 grand eyes he has," was her mental comment; "one can 
 almost read his soul in them. Poor fellow ! I really be 
 lieve he s smitten just a little. I ll keep it up for a while 
 just to see what length he ll go." 
 
 "Then you must allow me to say that you are more beau 
 tiful than my fancy s picture. If all Southern ladies are 
 like you, it was a blessing that the war terminated so hap- 
 pily." 
 
 "I beg to differ from you there ! In my opinion it did 
 not terminate happily." 
 
 "Te shall not quarrel upon the old question. Nothing 
 was further from my thoughts. I intended to say that, 
 had it been otherwise, wrapt in your impenetrable mantle 
 of conservatism, we poor Northerners would have had as 
 small a chance of seeing the visions of beauty as we have 
 of gazing upon the veiled sirens of the Orient." 
 
 "Very well said, but let me tell you right now, we 
 could have existed pretty nicely without you all." 
 
 The dance here came to an end ; and Mabel, saying that 
 the heat of the room was unbearable, Guyon suggested 
 that they stroll out upon the veranda. 
 
 "We can walk along to the further end/ he said, "away 
 from the dazzling light which streams from the ball 
 room." 
 
 "We shall find a seat there, I reckon. My, isn t the 
 air delicious!"
 
 74 A GENTLEMAN BORN. 
 
 "Aren t you afraid of catching cold? Shall I pro 
 cure a wrap?" he asked earnestly. 
 
 "Not for the world. We are not going to remain here 
 all night, you know. I am engaged for the next dance 
 but I will let that go/ 
 
 "You are exceedingly kind to me," he murmured. 
 
 The place where they were seated was at the distant 
 end of the veranda, remote from the few young couples, 
 who, like themselves, were seeking a change from the 
 glamour and heat of the room. In front, through the 
 thickly woven stems of woodbine which formed a frame to 
 the picture, they looked out upon the moonlit heavens, 
 where just a few fleecy clouds were sailing in the boundless 
 blue ; then down upon the waters where a pathway of glory 
 appeared shimmering in golden rays and trans 
 figuring the craft, that occasionally crossed it. into phan 
 tom ships of airy lightness. 
 
 From the lawn came the fragrance of the roses which 
 mingled with the salty breath of the sea; while the 
 music of the dance now begun, seemed sweeter and 
 softer from the distance. 
 
 "Can you imagine anything more perfect than this?" 
 asked Guyon, whose very soul was stirred by the beauty 
 of the scene, and by the fact that she was beside him 
 whose presence gave the one touch of reality, making it 
 all complete. 
 
 "You admire it, then? I reckoned you would; that 
 was the reason I suggested the spot. After the excite 
 ment of the dance I always find rest in such a scene 
 as this." 
 
 "It was good in you to think that our tastes might be sim 
 ilar, at least in this." 
 
 "Oh, I don t know so much about that ! What would 
 you say if I declared that I did it more b\ way of experi-
 
 A SOUTHERN BELLE. 75 
 
 ment, just to see if the beauties of nature had power to 
 move you ?" 
 
 "I would say that the trial were needless, since I have 
 already proved that beauty can hold me the veriest cap 
 tive." 
 
 "Have you? I surely have forgotten," she answered, 
 gazing dreamily out upon the sea, while a moonbeam, 
 stealing through the vines, played for a moment upon her 
 features. 
 
 "Oh, if I had the courage to speak," thought Guyon, 
 the depths of his nature now thoroughly aroused. 
 
 "You cannot have forgotten what I said of your beauty," 
 he murmured. 
 
 "No, but I wish to forget it. How can any beauty, 
 such as mine even supposing that I am beautiful com 
 pare with nature? Solve that question and I shall feel 
 that I am repaid with interest for my rudeness in forfeit 
 ing the present dance to my partner." 
 
 "All beauty is relative, I think. Whether we gaze upon 
 the rarest picture that nature can produce, a sun- burst of 
 roseate splendor heralding the day, an afterglow of crim 
 son and gold in the heavens at eventide, or the moonlight 
 resting upon the bosom of the deep. They all affect us 
 differently as our senses are attuned to greet them. If 
 they are finely strung and in harmony, these visions, 
 stealing in, create sensations of joy and happiness often 
 times impossible to describe; if they are harsh and want 
 ing all musical rhythm, then these self same scenes but 
 harshly rasp upon the senses, causing bitterness and wor- 
 row. So it is with personal beauty Am I fatiguing you, 
 Miss Gordon?" 
 
 "Not at all. Your allusions are so poetical, I am very 
 much interested." 
 
 "When the heart is not overshadowed by shapes and
 
 wg A GENTLEMAN BORN. 
 
 images of little worth, when the intellect is keenest to 
 apprehend all that is noblest and best, then does that great 
 est form of beauty enter in and seat itself as upon a 
 throne, creating sometimes the nearest approach to bliss 
 that it is possible for man to attain/ 
 
 "How strangely you speak," she said. "One would 
 think pardon me one would almost think you had 
 known what love is." 
 
 "And if I said that I did?" 
 
 "Please don t say it ! I always have a dread of a man 
 telling me that he has been in love Oh, ever so many 
 times. They never meant it, and they have to acknowl- 
 ,edge it in the end." 
 
 "But I assure you that I " 
 
 "Hello! have I found you at last, you pair of moon- 
 gazers." 
 
 "Why, Harold Brandon, where did you drop from ?" ex 
 claimed Mabel, rising hastily as this gentleman appeared 
 on the scene so suddenly, that Guyon wae shocked, fear 
 ing lest he might have heard his unfinished utterance and 
 construed it into a declaration of love. 
 
 "Honestly, I have been searching everywhere. Mr. Lyt- 
 ton is frantic because you were not visible for his dance; 
 and I determined not to lose mine, as it is the last." 
 
 "Nor shall you! I am perfectly rested now. Mr. 
 McCarty has been giving me some poetical ideas regard 
 ing beauty." 
 
 "I trust that they answered your inquiry, Miss Gordon," 
 said Guyon in a low tone. 
 
 "Perfectly. When I need further instruction I shall call 
 on you." 
 
 Guyon stood for some moments gazing after the Beauty 
 r.s she disappeared chatting merrily with Harold. "She 
 ( OOP not care for me at all," he thought "and why should
 
 A SOUTHERN BELLE. 77 
 
 she? What claim have I to her esteem, not to say her 
 love ? Curse it all ! If I knew of my parentage but to 
 breathe a doubt of that, to deny the good old contractor s 
 being my Father, would only lay my position open to the 
 
 worst suspicions. And yet, she appeared so much at ease 
 by my side! Allowed me to converse so freely. God 
 knows to what limits my foolishness might have gone, 
 had not Hal rescued me !" 
 
 By this time, he had wrought himself to so high a pitch 
 of excitement, that he knew he would betray himself if he 
 ventured into the presence of Miss Gordon that night. His 
 better judgment bade him leave the place at once. 
 
 "So, quietly entering the reception-room, and finding 
 Mrs. Barrington alone, he made his excuses, pleading a 
 nervous headache. 
 
 "You know it is my first real ball," he said, "and I feel 
 that I have done too much for one night/ 
 
 "You do not look well," replied the hostsss, gazing long 
 ingly at his pale, haggard features. "Just as I have seen 
 Clarence look so often," she thought. "It is strange that 
 he should resemble him !" 
 
 "You will pardon my abrupt departure, and say to 
 Miss Gordon that I will bear my excuses in person to 
 morrow, if I may." 
 
 "Certainly, we will be pleased to see you." 
 
 "Tl-e guests won t notice my going," thought Guyon, 
 as he walked down the road to the Brandon home. 
 "Only Hal will suspect something Hang it all ! I have 
 made an ass of myself, and I must take my medicine."
 
 78 A GENTLEMAN BORN. 
 
 CHAPTER IX. 
 
 RESOLUTIONS. 
 
 HAROLD knocked at his friend s door that night be 
 fore retiring, and entering, in response to the invitation, 
 found Guyon ensconced in an easy chair puffing away 
 at a cigarette, seemingly absorbed in meditation. 
 
 "Pardon my late, or I should say, early visit, Guy. 
 I have been a little worried about you since you disappeared 
 so mysteriously from our midst." 
 
 Have you, old fellow? It s not worth your while, I 
 assure you, merely one of my old headaches." 
 
 "lou are certain that it is not one of your new heart 
 aches, now ? Give me a cigarette, will you ? My case is in 
 the other room;" and he seated himself a-straddle a chair 
 opposite Guyon, resting his arms on the back of it, and 
 looked steadily into his friend s countenance for a few 
 moments; then he continued: "Humph! I m half in 
 clined to believe that I have diagnosed your case correctly 
 after all your subterfuges." 
 
 "See here, Hal! I suppose you mean well in these 
 railleries ; but thev grate upon me somehow to-night. In 
 fact, I must ask you to change the subject." 
 
 "All right, I m at your service, Guy. One word and 
 I have done. I cannot leave you, tortured, as I see you 
 are, by some untoward circumstance, without asking a 
 question which you may answer or not as you will." 
 
 "Fire away. If it is but one, I will try to satisfy 
 you."
 
 RESOLUTIONS. 79 
 
 "You are favorably impressed with Miss Gordon?" 
 
 "Most favorably, Hal. 1 believe that she possesses 
 more real, genuine warmth of nature than you gave her 
 credit for." 
 
 "You think so ?" asked Harold, inhaling a vigorous pull 
 at his cigarette, and watching the smoke as he slowly 
 ejected it through his nostrils. "Well, I am a little better 
 acquainted with her than you are; and if she betrayed any 
 ardent phase of her nature, I warn you to have a care." 
 
 "You insinuate that she is a coquette a flirt !" exclaimed 
 Guyon angrily. 
 
 "Easy now, easy, Guy. You can t afford to quarrel 
 with me, you know; besides, I am speaking in your own 
 interest. I do not crave the lightest favor from the 
 Beauty, hence we cannot be rivals. I do not say that she 
 is a coquette in the ordinary acceptation of the word ; no, 
 I don t think that Mabel Gordon would wittingly lower 
 herself to that degree. Still, there is just enough of the 
 devil in her make-up to cause her to find enjoyment in 
 playing with an honest chap such as you." 
 
 "For Heaven s sake, cease, Hal! Surely it is not as 
 bad as that." 
 
 "Have you the courage to see it out, you will soon dis 
 cover that my words are true." 
 
 "I have the courage. You know me well enough to 
 consider that I am not balked by a trifling opposition." 
 
 "Very well ; when do you propose to call upon the young 
 lady?" 
 
 "This morning, some time before noon." 
 
 "I will leave you, that you may recuperate your powers 
 for the conflict. And seriously, Guy," he continued, 
 laying: one hand on his friend s shoulder, and grasping 
 his hand with the other, "don t be afraid to talk with me 
 when you are in trouble. I ain t as old as Methuselah,
 
 gO A GENTLEMAN BORN. 
 
 nor as wise as Solomon ; but it is better to have the matter 
 out with someone, even if we should come to blows over it ; 
 and I don t think we could go that far." 
 
 "No, Hal, I ll think of what you have said. Perhaps 
 it s as well that I should take my dose even at this early 
 stage. I don t think that I really love Miss Gordon; 
 still, she has fascinated me strangely." 
 
 After a few hours sleep, Guyon arose, dressed, and 
 started down for his morning plunge. He was perfectly 
 at home in the water, a true son of Neptune, as Harold 
 called him; and, after a half -hour s battling with the 
 breakers, he* came back to the house another man, with so 
 fresh and vigorous an air, and so hearty an appetite for 
 breakfast that Mrs. Brandon rallied him upon his pre 
 tended ( ?) illness of the previous night. 
 
 "I m half inclined to think that your plea was the veriest 
 excuse. You had an engagement down-town, didn t you, 
 now?" 
 
 "I assure you, I returned home immediately after leav 
 ing Beaucliff," replied Guyon. "Harold can vouch that 
 I was not looking well when he came to my room." 
 
 "That I can ; and I am more than astonished to find you 
 so refreshingly buoyant this morning. Has your revered 
 sire, Neptune, given you a panacea against all future 
 ills?" 
 
 "Doubtless he has," said Guyon with a smile. "I wish 
 I could induce you to accompany me every morning; 
 it is simply glorious !" 
 
 "No, I thank you; I prefer the embraces of dear old 
 Morpheus. But, speaking of the sea, how would you like 
 to take a run out this afternoon, Guy?" 
 
 "Nothing will please me better/* 
 
 "It s a go, then;- the weather is fine; old Ocean is in 
 capital humor, is he not?"
 
 RESOLUTIONS. 81 
 
 "Excellent !" 
 
 "And my yacht is only waiting to spread her wings." 
 
 Later in the morning, Guyon, having accepted the offer 
 of his friend s side-bar and trotter, drove over to Beaucliff. 
 On the way, his spirits rose with the exhilarating breath 
 of the morning air, and the perfumes from the trees and 
 flowers; and his own happy nature was once more light 
 and free from the gloom which had depressed him. "Of 
 course I was an ass to believe that she loved me," he solilo 
 quized; "it was the glamour of the place, and maybe her 
 beauty that fascinated me. I must not let my senses play 
 havoc with my judgment so easily or my purposes in life 
 will come to naught before they have reached maturity." 
 
 Arrived at the stately mansion, he alighted, called a 
 colored boy, who was about, to take his rig, and presented 
 his card at the door. Ushered into the reception-room, he 
 waited what seemed an age to him, before Miss Gordon made 
 her appearance, not a jot less beautiful after the fatigue 
 of the previous night; her morning-gown of nile-green 
 most becomingly setting off her clear complexion, which 
 required no touch of carmine to give it color. 
 
 "I trust that I am not intruding at this hour?" said 
 Guyon, as he . rose to greet her. 
 
 "It is rather early, though Mrs. Harrington said you 
 would call this morning." 
 
 "I wish to apologize for leaving so abruptly last night." 
 
 "Oh, yes, you did leave right strangely, now that I re 
 call it," replied Miss Gordon, toying with the tassel of her 
 gown. 
 
 "It was after our little conversation on the veranda," 
 Guyon continued. 
 
 "Was it? Keally, I don t see what that had to do with 
 it." 
 
 "I am pleased that you do not. In fact, it should not
 
 82 A GENTLEMAN BORN. 
 
 have caused my leaving ; only, as I told our hostess, I was 
 somewhat wearied. My nerves were a little overwrought." 
 
 "Deary me! I am right sorry, Mr. McCarty, that my 
 conversation should have so affected you." 
 
 "You misunderstand me, Miss Gordon. It was not 
 your conversation. I could have remained there for hours 
 at your side; but when you left the veranda, it seemed to 
 me that the charming picture would lose all its effect, 
 should I return to the ball-room." 
 
 "I am afraid that I do not follow you, Mr. McCarty. Of 
 caurse, one could not carry a moonlit scene into a well- 
 lighted room. Pardon me, I am always stupid in the morn 
 ing." 
 
 "Not in the least ! You catch my meaning exactly. I 
 could not carry the scene into the ball-room; nor could I, 
 seeing you in another s company, imagine you still at my 
 side." 
 
 "I did not think you were so sentimental ; and asyoumay 
 remember that sentiment is my chief bete nolr, let us talk 
 of something else. How is Mrs. Brandon this morning?" 
 
 "Well, and as bright as usual. She wished me to 
 present her compliments and her love to Mrs. Barrington 
 and to yourself." 
 
 "Thanks, for remembering so few gentlemen bear such 
 trifles in mind." 
 
 "Is a woman s love a trifle ?" 
 
 "I don t know, I m sure! Isn t it a delightful day?" 
 
 "It is a perfect day for July ! I have been down early 
 to pay my respects to Neptune." 
 
 "Have you really? That reminds me that I have an en 
 gagement this afternoon with a yachting party." 
 
 "And so have I. In whose yacht do you sail, may I 
 ask?"
 
 RESOLUTIONS. 83 
 
 "In Mr. Barclay s, of course. I thought he was the only 
 young gentleman here who possessed a yacht." 
 
 "No, Harold s arrived yesterday, so he informed me at 
 breakfast, and we are going out on a trial trip. It is 
 a beauty, I believe." 
 
 "It cannot be better than Mr. Barclay s. We have been 
 out with him often. She sails so swiftly and gracefully! 
 You can scarcely feel the motion; then, the appointments 
 of the saloon are too grand for anything." 
 
 "I trust that you will give Harold and myself the pleas 
 ure of taking you out some day." 
 
 "I would be delighted, that is, if Mrs. Brandon 
 went." 
 
 "We will get up a party next week, if you say so. By the 
 way, Miss Gordon, Miss Harcourt was singing the praises 
 of Mr. Barclay s yacht to me last night. She says that he 
 knows nothing at all about managing the craft." 
 
 "She talks so fast, does that dear girl ! Sometimes 
 she forgets what she is saying. Of course he knows all 
 about it at least, I suppose he does, for he has given his 
 captain a holiday to-day, and will take care of us him 
 self, he says. Is there any danger, Mr. McCarty ?" 
 
 "Not the least, providing that a squall does not show up ; 
 and really, judging from the appearance of the weather, 
 and the unruffled surface of the water, the day is perfect for 
 sailing." 
 
 "I am not afraid," she said; "for I have perfect con 
 fidence in Mr. Barclay; but the other young ladies are so 
 timid." 
 
 "Always Barclay," thought Guyon. "She certainly cares 
 something for him or his name would not be so frequently 
 on her lips." 
 
 "I have tired you too long with my presence, Miss Gor-
 
 84 A GENTLEMAN BORN. 
 
 don," he said; "still, you have not yet pronounced my 
 pardon/ 
 
 "Haven t I? Then consider it spoken. You must 
 come again, Mr. McCarty, when Mrs. Barrington and 
 Esther will entertain you." 
 
 "May I not call upon you ?" he asked as he stood at the 
 door. 
 
 "If you care to ; however, I warn you that I may he rude 
 and uninteresting sometimes, just as you have found me 
 to-day." 
 
 "If as interesting, then I shall be more than repaid," 
 he murmured. 
 
 "No compliments, please!" 
 
 "I assure you, I speak earnestly." 
 
 "Great Scott, how he wearied me!" said the Beauty, as 
 the door closed upon her guest. "I thought that my in 
 difference and idle conversation would disgust him, but he 
 is almost as bad as he was last night." 
 
 And Guyon, notwithstanding the coldness of manner 
 with which Miss Gordon had received him, had no sooner 
 left Beaucliff behind him, than all memory of the visit 
 faded from his mind saving only the exquisite beauty of 
 the young lady in whose presence he had passed a brief half- 
 hour.
 
 RESCUED. 85 
 
 CHAPTEE X. 
 
 RESCUED. 
 
 SHORTLY after luncheon, Harold announced that his 
 yacht was in readiness for the proposed outing ; and Guyon, 
 anticipating rare sport in this new pleasure, was soon pre 
 pared to accompany his friend. 
 
 "You will handle her yourself?" he asked, as they ap 
 proached the wharf where the boat lay, beautiful in the 
 shimmering whiteness, and in the graceful curves of her 
 hull, as she rose and dipped to the gentle swell of the 
 ocean. 
 
 "I generally do," he replied. "I shall not require your 
 services to-day, Hopkins," he continued, addressing the 
 Skipper, who stood awaiting the arrival of the young 
 gentlemen. 
 
 "There s just a lively breath o wind, sir; an a few 
 dark clouds out in the east; but I don t guess as you ll 
 have any trouble. She s in first-rate shape, she is, sir." 
 
 "Everything in good order? Crew know what they are 
 about?" asked Harold. 
 
 "Aye, aye, sir! All as shipshape as kin be." 
 
 "We ll take a run outside, maybe, and return at six 
 o clock. Be on hand at that time." 
 
 "Aye, aye, sir! I wouldn t venture too far out," was 
 the last warning. 
 
 "He s a good fellow, on the whole; but a trifle worri 
 some for real sport," said Harold to his friend. "We can 
 get along better without him."
 
 86 A GENTLEMAN BORN. 
 
 "Hello, you fellows !" he cried to the crew, a half-dozen 
 stalwart-looking men, as spick and span as the craft herself, 
 in their white duck suits and caps. "Hello ! off with the 
 hawser, unfurl the sail! and be quick about it!" 
 
 And, taking his station at the wheel, Guyon reclining at 
 his side, smoking his briar in a languid manner, enjoying 
 every motion of the boat as she swiftly cut through the 
 water, heading out to sea and leaving the busy little city, 
 with its background of rugged cliffs, in the distance. 
 
 "Well, how do you like it, Guy ?" asked Harold. 
 
 "Like it? I tell you, I never enjoyed anything so well 
 in my life." 
 
 "Not excepting last night on the veranda, eh, Guv?" 
 
 "Come, now! that is a forbidden subject, you know." 
 
 "Is it ? Pardon me, I had forgotten that it was. Here, 
 just hold on to this plagued wheel while I fill my pipe." 
 
 "Can I do it all right?" 
 
 "There is nothing to do but keep it steady; you know 
 all about steering, I should judge." 
 
 "Yes, in the boat crew at College ; but it is another thing 
 to manage a yacht out here." 
 
 "Same principles, only a little more muscle is required. 
 Starboard, now ! Keep her to the wind Hang the matches ! 
 I must go below for a minute keep her head just that 
 way, that s a good fellow." , 
 
 Although a little nervous at first from the very novelty 
 of the adventure, Guyon s quick perception taught him to 
 control the steering gear so well that, on Harold s return, 
 he declined to relinquish his position. They were some 
 distance out now, and the Island seemed a speck on the 
 horizon, while before them lay the vast expanse of ocean 
 stretching out to where it seemed to meet the deep blue of 
 the heavens. 
 
 "You are feeling like another man already; I can see
 
 RESCUED. 87 
 
 it in the healthy color of your cheeks, and in the light of 
 your eye, Guy," exclaimed Harold, throwing himself upon 
 the deck in a careless position and puffing great wreaths of 
 ^moke from his briar. 
 
 "One can scarcely be otherwise in this delicious atmos 
 phere, and with just this additional exercise and excite 
 ment." 
 
 "That is why I suggested it. Nothing better for dis 
 persing the cobwebs from the mind and heart than a 
 tussle with old Ocean." 
 
 "I found it so this morning," replied Guy reflectively, 
 wondering even as he spoke if some of that mysterious 
 spell which seemed to have vanished, had not returned with 
 his visit to Beaucliff. 
 
 "You saw Miss Gordon to-day, did you not?" 
 
 "Yes, I had the pleasure of a short interview." 
 
 "How did she impress you? Pardon the query, Guy. 
 I told you that I wanted to follow the affair as far as 
 you would permit me." 
 
 "I am prepared to take you to a reasonable limit, al 
 though it may not extend as far as yon horizon. Well, 
 how did she impress me?" 
 
 "That was my question." 
 
 "In one respect, not as favorably as she did last night. 
 She seemed to be just a little reserved ; but, I tell you, her 
 beauty was not in the least impaired after the. fatigue of 
 the ball." 
 
 "Of course not ! Hers is not that style ; if it were, she 
 would have refused to see you this morning." 
 
 "Ah, I understand!" 
 
 "What are you looking at so intently?" 
 
 "Don t you see that white speck in the distance?" 
 
 "I have my glass here somewhere. Here, you fellow!" 
 he cried to one of the crew who was lolling on the deck
 
 88 A GENTLEMAN BORN. 
 
 not far away, "run down below and fetch my glass; be 
 quick about it !" 
 
 "A yacht, as sure as fate!" he exclaimed when he had 
 fixed his glass upon the object for a moment. 
 
 "Barclay s, and Miss Gordon on board," replied Guyon ; 
 Avhile a thrill of something approaching to envy touched 
 his nature. 
 
 "Barclay and Miss Gordon? How do you know about 
 it?" 
 
 "She told me this morning that he was to take them out 
 to-day; some young ladies and herself, I believe." 
 
 "He is taking them out, eh? It s lucky he has Benson 
 aboard for his Skipper; he doesn t know as much about 
 handling a boat as you do, and you are doing finely for 
 an amateur/ 
 
 "Thanks, but apropos of the Skipper, I am afraid you 
 are mistaken. Miss Gordon said that he was to give Ben 
 son a holiday." 
 
 "Did she? I admire his nerve; but he s a damned 
 idiot, all the same!" 
 
 "I begs yer parding, sir," said a sailor, coming up at 
 this moment and touching his cap; "but we se thinkin 
 we ought er tell yer as them clouds is gittin nasty o er 
 yonder nor east; don t mean no good, them don t." 
 
 "Do you tell me that a gale is springing up ?" 
 
 "Look for yersel , sir!" 
 
 And Harold, without the assistance of his glass, could 
 see far ahead in the sky dark masses of clouds marshal 
 ling their lines as for a fray; a distance off they seemed 
 to an inexperienced eye, with a column-front of fleecy 
 whiteness on which the sun, glancing, touched with a 
 singular mellow light. 
 
 "You are right, Dobbins. HeUo, you fellows, unfurl 
 the topsail, there! Stretch every inch of canvas! Give
 
 RESCUED. 89 
 
 me the helm, Guy; we must show our heels to the storm 
 and race for our lives/ 
 
 "Is there any danger, Hal?" 
 
 "Can t tell. We aren t so far out yet, and have a 
 pretty good chance; but these darned gusts come up all 
 of a sudden, one scarcely sees them before they are down 
 on top of you/ 
 
 "And Barclay s yacht?" 
 
 "Damn Barclay, and his imprudence! She is in our 
 course; we ll head for her, and make him turn in." 
 
 "I trust that we may be able to persuade him," ex 
 claimed Guyon, now thoroughly alarmed, as he realized 
 the peril which menaced his dear one. 
 
 On sped the vessel, her fragile frame vibrating with the 
 excess of motion which the increase of canvas had 
 produced. Already, the waves were rolling higher 
 than usual, and the spray from the whitecaps ever and 
 anon swished upon the deck. Still, with all their speed, 
 the giant host above was gaining. Vivid flashes showed 
 his opening assault, and the roar of his artillery awoke 
 the echoes of the silent deqp. Onward they sped. Now 
 they are approaching the gay pleasure party on Barclay s 
 yacht, which is heading out, heedless of the danger that 
 awaits them. Guyon can even hear the merry ring of 
 Miss Gordon s laugh as they come nearer. 
 
 "Yacht ahoy !" shouted Harold through his megaphone. 
 
 "Hello, you there ! Going back in a hurry, aren t you ?" 
 cried Barclay. 
 
 "Turn back; storm ahead!" Harold cried. 
 
 They were now so close that the phone was no longer re 
 quired. 
 
 "What s the row, old man? We re having a most jolly 
 time, aren t we, girls?" 
 
 "Don t you see the storm ? You re riding right into it."
 
 90 A GENTLEMAN BORN. 
 
 "Nonsense, it won t blow this way; been out often in 
 weather like this; it s just fine, isn t it, girls?" 
 
 "You d better swing round and follow us!" exclaimed 
 Guyon, now white with fear. The distance separating the 
 two yachts was increasing; still Barclay s forged ahead. 
 
 "Yacht ahoy!" shouted Harold, again grasping his 
 phone. 
 
 "Hello yourself!" 
 
 "I ll race you to the Island for a hundred!" 
 
 "Done!" and Barclay s boat having put about, the race 
 began. 
 
 Now the headlands of the coast are visible. Now the 
 cliffs loom up as monster spectres in the increasing gloom ; 
 for the heavens are all overcast, and a growing darkness 
 veils the face of nature. Another stretch and the racers 
 will win against the storm. 
 
 "Stand by your sails, there!" cried Harold in a voice 
 above the roar of the wind and the lashing of the waves. 
 "Furl, make all snug aloft!" 
 
 "Topmast gone !" cried a seaman. 
 
 "Look out for the mainmast, Guy, give me a hand 
 here! Good God, what is the matter with you?" 
 
 "I m all right. Do you see the other boat?" 
 
 "She s somewhere near, I reckon. God grant us a few 
 moments more !" 
 
 The shore was in sight, not more than a mile away. 
 Above the howling of the storm, came a flash and a peal 
 of thurder louder than had been heard before. Almost 
 mountain-high ran the billows, lashed into demoniacal 
 fury; then a lull, broken by piercing, heartrending 
 shrieks. 
 
 "She s foundered ! Stand to your yacht, Hal I m off 
 to the rescue!" and before his friend could utter a word 
 of remonstrance, Guyon had thrown aside his shoes and
 
 RESCUED. 91 
 
 coat, and plunged fearlessly into the angry waters. In the 
 darkness, he could perceive nothing, only the shapeless mass 
 of Barclay s yacht bottom side up. A moment later, he 
 saw something white struggling in the water, and dis 
 appear from his gaze. Without hesitation he dived, 
 grasped the limp form, and with almost superhuman energy 
 he headed for the shore. 
 
 More than once it seemed as though the high breakers 
 would overwhelm him and his burden; still he fought on, 
 inwardly thanking God for his strength and his expert 
 knowledge of swimming; for the young lady whom he 
 supported was a dead weight, unconscious of her plight and 
 of the gallant fight that was being made to save her life. 
 None too soon, a breaker, greater in force and size than 
 its predecessors, lifted them up, and, with a mighty toss 
 threw them upon the beach at some distance above the 
 city limits. Then, for the first time did Guyon, not even 
 now relinquishing his hold upon his burden, as he bore her 
 away from a quickly advancing wave, gaze into the pallid 
 countenance and recognize Miss Gordon beautiful still, 
 but white as chiseled marble. 
 
 "My God, she s dead!" he exclaimed, as he laid her 
 form upon the ground, chafed her hands and listened for 
 the faintest pulsation of her heart. "It beats, thank 
 Heaven! I ve saved her. Poor girl, little kens she of 
 her rescuer. Will her awakening thought be of me? But 
 I must not leave her here ;" and, summoning his almost ex 
 hausted strength, he lifted her in his arms and bore her 
 up the steep narrow pathway to Beaucliff, stopping now 
 and again to recover breath, and almost falling into the 
 great hall when he reached the mansion. 
 
 "Summon Mrs. Barrington quickly!" he cried to the 
 servants who stood awe-stricken at the door. 
 
 <% Here I am, Mr. McCarty; has anything happened?
 
 92 A GENTLEMAN BORN. 
 
 Oh, my poor child! Is she drowned? What has oc 
 curred ?" 
 
 "There is no time for explanation, Madam; bid a ser 
 vant help me lay her on the couch. A little brandy send 
 for a physician!" then Guyon fell fainting to the floor 
 beside the couch on which he had helped to place his dear 
 one. His wondrous strength and great vitality had 
 assisted him through the conflict with the waves ;. his 
 love had given him false energy to carry his burden to 
 her home, but, his task completed, nature recoiled he 
 had overtasked his powers. 
 
 Mrs. Barrington and Esther were unremitting in their 
 attention, first to the young lady, who still resisted all 
 attempts to revive her, and then to Guyon, whose nature 
 more quickly responded. He was just recovering con 
 sciousness, when it seemed to him that he heard her voice. 
 Was it a dream? Was he really down there with her 
 alone in those dark waters, dead, yet alive? Were their 
 spirits now soaring upward united forever? Her voice 
 listen she speaks: 
 
 "Where am I ! Oh, the waters ! I m drowning George, 
 Mr. Barclay, save me!" 
 
 "You are saved, deary; you are home here with me," 
 he heard Mrs. Barrington say. "Mr. McCarty rescued 
 you." 
 
 "He?"
 
 ON THE CLIFFS. 93 
 
 CHAPTER XL 
 
 ON THE CLIFFS. 
 
 A WEEK has passed since Guyon rescued Mabel Gordon 
 from a watery grave receiving, as his reward only the ac 
 knowledgment that her thoughts were not of him or for 
 him, when, awakening from her unconscious state, she 
 murmured Barclay s name. 
 
 Many a young man under- similar circumstances would 
 have banished from his mind the very image of love, would 
 have sworn to himself that he was a most consummate 
 idiot to harbor an affection for a lady to whom his very 
 presence seemed repugnant. But Guyon was not of this 
 stamp. His boyish nature had hitherto received impres 
 sions from an almost endless variety of objects, which, in 
 his checkered career, had been presented to his vision. 
 With delicate perception, he had always segregated the 
 coarse and vulgar from that which was delicate and re 
 fined; and now, in a brief period of acquaintance, he had 
 imbibed a draught of intoxicating delight from the beauty 
 of Mabel Gordon. Hence, it was impossible for him to 
 annihilate the sensations, which, remaining without the 
 beacon ray of hope to nourish them, bid fair in the end 
 to play a havoc of ruin among his noblest ideals and high 
 est purposes of life. 
 
 During this time, he studiously avoided the gay whirl 
 of social life at Newport, for which he was frequently 
 chided by his youthful mentor, Harold; and his melan 
 cholia was made a subject of mirthful jest by Mrs. Bran-
 
 94 A GENTLEMAN BORN. 
 
 don, solely with the object of rousing him. Still, he 
 heard news from Beaucliff, for Harold was over there 
 often now, presumably to inquire after Mabel s health, but 
 in reality to pass an hour or two in the society of Esther 
 Barrington. 
 
 Harold was now all enthusiasm over his little sweet 
 heart, as he called her, retailing to his chum of an even 
 ing her wittiest sayings that day, and her wondrous 
 anxiety concerning his own future career. 
 
 "Happy fellow!" thought Guyon, as his friend, with 
 a word or two of encouragement, left him, on one of these 
 occasions. "He is to be envied in his lot, fortunate in 
 having the best of parents, with the world inviting him 
 to any of its highest gifts, fortunate in love ! whilst I, ah 
 me! I must assert my manhood. To-morrow I shall 
 take up the conflict anew, throwing off this poisonous 
 atmosphere which suffocates me, and going forth as the 
 unknown knight of old, in quest of honor and a name." 
 
 It was about evening the following day, when Guyon 
 having set out on his accustomed ramble among the cliffs, 
 strayed nearer to Beaucliff than on any previous occasion. 
 Indeed, he was not conscious of his proximity to the house 
 until, climbing a steep ascent, he found himself on one of 
 the narrow paths which wound up from the shore, and 
 which he immediately recognized as the one up which 
 he had labored on that eventful day, bearing the uncon 
 scious Beauty to her home. 
 
 Almost instinctively he turned towards the ocean and 
 paused as a scene of glory burst upon his vision. It was 
 the hour of sunset ; and far out at sea, at the very borders 
 of the horizon, the monarch of the day was dipping, half 
 concealed, then a quarter gone, now totallv eclipsed, leav 
 ing behind only an aftermath of radiant splendor. For, 
 in the west, where some dark clouds had gathered, the
 
 ON THE CLIFFS. 95 
 
 crimson and orange tints were seen, while towards the 
 east, there lingered the faintest touch of roseate hues. 
 
 Standing there, entranced by the wondrous beauty, 
 Guyon forgot all else of the world about him. He seemed 
 to live in another sphere, to be elevated out of himself, 
 so to speak. And as he gazed, his resolve of the previous 
 night to go forth and fight his battles manfully seemed 
 whispered to him, and he formulated it with renewed 
 energy. 
 
 Cruel fate ! the pity of it that it should be so ! At the 
 very moment when his nobler purposes were scarcely 
 uttered, there came to his ear the sound of voices so near 
 to him that he could distinctly hear the words. Turning, 
 lie looked above on the pathway, no human form was 
 visible but below, on a rustic bridge which crossed a 
 cleft in the rocks, he beheld Barclay and Miss Gordon, 
 apparently in earnest conversation. Through the clear, 
 translucent atmosphere, the sounds came up to him in per 
 fect intonation. Whether he willed or not, he must hear 
 them. 
 
 "You say that you would have preferred my being your 
 rescuer ?" 
 
 "If I said it, I may have meant it, and I may not." 
 
 "That is your privilege; but if you really felt the sen 
 timent which the words conveyed ?" 
 
 "What then?" 
 
 "It proves that you care for me just a little." 
 
 "But you did not come to save me ! You left me to the 
 mercy of the waves and " 
 
 "That horrid Irish fellow!" 
 
 "For shame, Mr. Barclay; I did not say that." 
 
 "I am glad that you did not ; for I owe him many thanks 
 for preserving your precious life." 
 
 "Mr. Barclay !"
 
 96 A GENTLEMAN BORN. 
 
 "Yes, Mabel, I must say it, whether you care to hear 
 it or not. At the moment when you disappeared from my 
 sight in those fearful waters, I knew that I loved you. I 
 had loved you long ago ; but the fear of losing you brought 
 the truth home to me in a new light. I felt as though the 
 sun of my existence had been extinguished; but when I 
 found you again, knew that you were alive and well, my 
 love, re-lighted by hope, burned bright and ardent, until 
 now " 
 
 "Do you really love me?" she asked. 
 
 Guyon heard these words and did not pause to hear more. 
 Better would it have been, perhaps, for his present hap- 
 pines and his future prospects had he remained. 
 
 Hurriedly leaving the place, he proceeded in the direc 
 tion of the Brandon home. His mind was dazed, and 
 all his former resolutions annihilated ; in fact, he was 
 fast verging to the point where he would care little what 
 became of him. In this state, he had instinctive tact to 
 avoid the pathway which must have led him to Beaucliff. 
 Striking off from this, and clambering up the rocks, in 
 heedless haste, he struck the private carriage road at the 
 same time that a drag, drawn by a pair of spirited bays, 
 approached at full speed. As he stood there for an instant 
 in the uncertain light of eventide, his tall, manly figure 
 assuming even greater proportions, and his countenance 
 white with the pallor of death, it is no wonder that the 
 animals, startled by the sudden apparition, shied a little 
 but the driver grasping the situation at a glance, held them 
 in control ; then half rising, with whip in hand, he brand 
 ished it threateningly at Guyon. 
 
 It was just for an instant; for Perry Barrington s gaze 
 fell full upon the face of the man he had wronged. His own 
 cheek blanched in turn, and he fell back in the seat with 
 a curse which did not escape Guyon s ear. Then, without
 
 ON THE CLIFFS, 9.7! 
 
 another word of recognition, he passed on up the road; 
 while the young man, taking the insult as an additional 
 opprobrium to his inferior birth and condition, paused not. 
 but crossing the road, hurried his pace homeward. 
 
 The incident itself, while it affected Guyon in so much 
 only as to increase the pangs gnawing at his sensitive 
 nature, had a far greater effect upon Perry. "Damn 
 him!" he exclaimed, as he drove briskly on ? "I could 
 have sworn it was Clarence s ghost rising to taunt me. 
 Was it, I wonder?" Then glancing back and not seeing a 
 
 trace of the cause of his disquietude, the idea grew to 
 a conviction that it was indeed an apparition he had seen. 
 Might it not be an omen of some catastrophe about to hap 
 pen to him? 
 
 But Guyon, unmindful of the agitation his appearance 
 had produced, reached the Brandon home with a small 
 margin of time at his disposal in which to dress for din 
 ner. 
 
 Much would he have preferred remaining in his room, 
 braving the inquiries which his absence might suggest; 
 for he was aware that his deficient appetite and haggard 
 aspect could not fail to arouse the curiosity of the hostess 
 during the meal and so indeed it happened. 
 
 "What has occurred to mar your peace of mind, my son ?" 
 exclaimed the good lady, as course after course was re 
 moved from before him untouched. She had in her ma 
 ternal way, appropriated the young man to herself, but her 
 solicitude, generally pleasing to him, was not so acceptable 
 to-night. 
 
 "I m out of sorts, I believe. Somehow, the atmos 
 phere of Newport does not agree with me," he replied. 
 
 "I m not going to credit that, I assure you," she 
 persisted. "I never saw one so much benefitted by the 
 change as you were, the first week after your arrival."
 
 98 A GENTLEMAN BORN. 
 
 "That may be true; but you will remember that up to 
 that time I had not indulged in social gayeties." 
 
 "Keally, I cannot discover a cause for your illness in 
 your round of social engagements; you hove been a model 
 of propriety, going out but seldom, keeping early hours; 
 in fact, had you seen a little more life here, and not given 
 yourself such goody-goody airs, it would have been better 
 for you." 
 
 "Katherine, I am astonished to hear you, of all women, 
 advocating such a course for our young friend !" exclaimed 
 her husband. 
 
 "Oh, you know to what I have reference, Mr. Brandon, a 
 little more innocent dissipation he hasn t been anywhere 
 since the yachting incident, has he, Harold?" 
 
 "No, I can vouch for it ; but the fault is not mine," re 
 plied Harold. "However, Mater, Guy is old enough to 
 know what is best for him." 
 
 "No doubt he is; but you should have urged him to at 
 tend the reception at the club gotten up especially in his 
 honor after he rescued Mabel Gordon." 
 
 "I assure you, I was in no mood to enjoy it. Harold 
 fixed it all up for me on that occasion," said Guyon. 
 
 "I will not attempt to do the same again, old fellow !" 
 
 "There will be no need for it, Hal. I leave Newport to 
 morrow." 
 
 "To-morrow? Indeed you shall not!" exclaimed his 
 hostess. 
 
 "Are you weary of us all so soon, when the season is 
 only opening," said Mr. Brandon. "Now I had almost 
 forgotten to tell you that I met my old friend, Mr. Bar- 
 rington, in town to-day, and he asked especially after you, 
 Mr. McCarty, saying that Beaucliff was pining for a visit 
 from you."
 
 ON THE CLIFFS. 99 
 
 "I saw the gentleman myself this evening," remarked 
 Guyon quietly. 
 
 "Then there was no need of conveying the invitation; 
 doubtless he presented it personally." 
 
 "Quite forcibly, I should judge," said Guyon, recalling 
 the horsewhipping he so narrowly escaped. "No," he con 
 tinued, "I do not think it best for me to remain, or to 
 accept any invitations to social events this season. I 
 feel, on the whole, that I made a sad mistake coming here, 
 thrusting myself upon your set, a man without a social 
 standing and without a name !" 
 
 "A name !" cried Mrs. Brandon. 
 
 "He means any other but an Irish name. Guy is a little 
 sensitive about his parents nationality," said Harold, com 
 ing quickly into the breach. 
 
 "Oh, if that is all, your education, handsome appearance, 
 and gentlemanly manners overcome those trifling ob 
 stacles, I am sure," said Mrs. Brandon. 
 
 "You are very kind to say so; still 
 
 "And besides, your being our guest, and having been 
 received at Beaucliff are sufficient. I should like to see 
 the person who would dare to cut you!" exclaimed the 
 hostess excitedly. "I am afraid you are too sensitive, Mr. 
 McCarty." 
 
 "It may be so," replied Guyon. "And if being sensi 
 tive is a misfortune in my case, I can only live to regret it ; 
 meanwhile, I must repeat my decision that I leave to 
 morrow." 
 
 A glance from Harold, caused his Mother to withhold 
 a rebuke she would have spoken; but she unwittingly 
 gave Guyon an additional pang with her next remark. 
 
 "Isn t it absurb what everyone is talking about, Harry ?" 
 
 "Generally speaking it is," replied that youth. "When
 
 100 A GENTLEMAN BORN. 
 
 everyone talks, Mater, you may depend upon it there s 
 neither much sense nor solidity to their remarks." 
 
 "You horrid boy ! Of course I did not mean that. I 
 refer to the engagement of Mabel Gordon to George Bar 
 clay." 
 
 "Now that is absurd in the extreme," said Harold, 
 glancing quickly at Guyon, and noticing that he moved 
 restlessly in his chair, almost as a criminal obliged to 
 listen to his condemnation. 
 
 "There is nothing in it, you may depend," remarked Mr. 
 Brandon. "If there were, Perry would surely have men 
 tioned the fact to me. He was speaking of Miss Gordon 
 and of her fortunate escape." 
 
 "Still, I have it on good authority," persisted the chatty 
 hostess. 
 
 "Miss Harcourt?" ventured Harold. 
 
 "Well, what Miss Harcourt doesn t know, isn t worth 
 knowing; besides, she is intimately acquainted with the 
 Barclays and is often over at Beaucliff." 
 
 "That is a clincher !" said Harold. "Did the fair lady 
 assert with like confidence that the wedding was to take 
 place on such and such a day? That she was to be maid 
 of honor, and that the trousseau had been ordered from 
 Paris?" 
 
 "Peace, Harold! You are as incorrigible as ever. I 
 shall have to order you from the table, if you are not 
 better behaved. There, I believe I will go myself, and 
 leave you gentlemen to your wine;" and, suiting the ac 
 tion to the word, the gay hostess rose and left the room. 
 
 That night after Guyon had retired to his room he wrote 
 to the old contractor stating that he was about to leave 
 Newport, and asking that he might attend to any details 
 of his business which he found requiring his services upon 
 his arrival in the city. Then he packed his trunk, re-
 
 ON THE CLIFFS. 101 
 
 fusing tKe assistance of Harold s valet, who came to 
 perform the task; and with one last look at Beaucliff as 
 it stood now bathed in the moonlight, he retired. 
 
 Some good angel nrnst have sent him pleasant visions 
 in the night; for he smiled in his slumbers, which came 
 after a long time to him. Was it the dream of his child 
 hood in the tiny house on Pearl Street? Or was it the 
 vision of his heart s love perfected in the end?
 
 A GENTLEMAN BORN. 
 
 CHAPTER XII. 
 
 SHEEPSHEAD. 
 
 "WELL, Guy, me b y, so ye re tired of all the gewgaws 
 of sassiety after all?" 
 
 "I ve had a fling at them, and, as you say, they wearied 
 me somewhat ; but why in the world did you come home ? 
 There was no reason why you should." 
 
 "So I see, now that I ve got here, by the way ye re a 
 runnin things; however, the Missus wus bound ye wus 
 sick, and ha, ha ! I will say it, though she told me not 
 ter she thought ye must be a leetle off, just a trifle, d ye 
 know, fer ter lave the grate folk all of a sudden, an take 
 a pull at me affairs in all the brilin hot weather we do be 
 havin here." 
 
 "Ha, ha! That was a pretty bad joke on me! said 
 Guyon good-humoredly. 
 
 "So, she d have nothin at all but I must pack mesel off 
 an hunt yees up afore ye got in the hospital or worse, she 
 sed." 
 
 "I assure you, my health is excellent, Dad. It s my sur 
 plus energy, I suppose, that causes me to be out of sorts 
 unless I am digging away at something; at College, I 
 managed to use it up in study and in the various athletic 
 sports; but idleness does play the mischief with me." 
 
 "It s the auld savin 7 , Guy, me lad, the Divil finds mis 
 chief enough fer idle hands. Faith, I can t blame ye 
 much fer wantin ter work; but whativer made ye think 
 o me business, now ?"
 
 SHEEPSHEAD. 103 
 
 "I thought that in this way I might repay you slightly 
 for your long continued kindness to me ever since you 
 brought me in from the streets." 
 
 "Tut, tut! don t be mintionin it, b y." 
 
 "Then, a more interested reason was that I didn t know 
 of any other employment which I could attempt at the 
 present time." 
 
 "An sure, there isn t much ter see ter here, at all, is there 
 now? Burns, me clerk, wus doin fine whin- I lift." 
 
 "Yes, he is all right; still, I have found a few details 
 worth looking into during the past day or two." 
 
 "Did you, now ?" exclaimed the old contractor, regarding 
 his protege with unfeigned admiration. "Faith, I think 
 ye has a grand hid f er business ; an if ye don t mind, I ll 
 have the papers drawn up ter-day makin ye me partner ; 
 thin I can go away wid an aisy mind out er this divilish 
 hot place of a city." 
 
 "Nothing would suit me better, Dad, if it is agreeable 
 to you." 
 
 "Faith, we ll make short work of it. Jest call the b y 
 an sind im fer me lawyer, Mr. Smith." 
 
 It was the third day after Guyon s arrival in the city. 
 He had waited for a reply to his letter, expecting that the 
 old contractor would wire immediately. Then, becoming 
 more and more uneasy, and realizing that he must do 
 something or yield to his morbid fancies, he arrived at 
 the office one morning, bright and early, surprising the 
 people there by declaring his identity, and his intention 
 of managing the business in Mr. McCarty s absence. And 
 he was, in fact, sitting at his desk with a small pile of cor 
 respondence before him, dictating to the pretty stenog 
 rapher, when the door opened, and the person of the old 
 contractor stood before him, mopping his glowing counte 
 nance with an immense red bandanna.
 
 104 A GENTLEMAN BORN. 
 
 The lawyer having now appeared in answer to the sum 
 mons, Mr. McCarty lost no time having the necessary 
 documents drawn up and signed. After this, he proposed 
 that the new firm give the office a holiday in honor of the 
 event. 
 
 "Phwat d ye say ter a run over ter Sheepshead ? Maybe 
 ye ve been there already, I dunno?" asked the old gentle 
 man when they were standing on the pavement outside the 
 office. 
 
 "Anything you say, Dad, it s your outing ; no, I haven t 
 been to the races yet." 
 
 "I don t know the horses they re runnin , so we won t 
 play too high on em; but the sport s good fer the likes 
 o yer it s bracin , b y ; an it s a bit of a bracer ye needs, 
 I m thinkin ," he added, as he looked closely at Guyon. 
 observing his colorless cheeks and a nervous, troubled ex 
 pression in his eyes. 
 
 "No doubt I do, Dad. At any rate, I m glad you have 
 come. Why, the very sight of you, and the sound of your 
 voice make me feel ever so much better." 
 
 "Does it now? So ye ain t well, er is somethin* a- 
 troublin ye? There I ll ax ye no quistion, an ye can 
 tell me no lies at all." 
 
 "I ll tell you about my troubles on our way down, Dad," 
 replied Guyon, well-pleased to have some one to whom he 
 could talk, being certain that the kind-hearted old gentle 
 man would appreciate his feelings. 
 
 They went by way of Bay Ridge to enjoy "a bit of a 
 sail," as Mr. McCarty put it; then by rail from that 
 place to the race track. While they were on the cars, 
 Guyon referred to the subject nearest his heart. 
 
 "You may remember, Dad," he said, "how I spoke of my 
 parentage the night before I went to Harvard."
 
 8HEEP8HEAD. 105 
 
 "I does that; an it s that same s a-botherin ye, poor 
 b y?" 
 
 "The very same. I have felt it before many times ; but 
 during my short stay at Newport, circumstances arose 
 which made me desire more than ever to find out some 
 thing regarding my origin, if it be at all possible." 
 
 Humph!" grunted the old contractor. "Maybe it 
 was thrown up ter yer face that ye wusn t as good es thim- 
 silves ?" 
 
 "Not so bad as that, Dad. They are not so rude in 
 polite society." 
 
 "Sassiety be damned ! say I," exclaimed the old gentle 
 man, becoming highly incensed. "Ef it wusn t fer the 
 Missus settin her heart on it, I d tell ye ter drop it, fer 
 good an all." 
 
 "I m afraid I must do that, at least for the present ; but 
 can you give me your opinion of my condition?" 
 
 "Ef ye wants it, Guy, me b y, ye re welcome to t; but 
 it s a sad thing ter say, an I ve been dreadin all along 
 since ye come ter us, that some day this myst ry bout ye 
 ud make ye es miserable es the Divil himself that wus 
 at the bottom of it all." 
 
 "Then you think that there was foul play? Do you 
 know anything, Dad ? In Heaven s name, do not keep me 
 in suspense !" 
 
 "Faith, it s not a thing I know, er I d told ye long ago, 
 Guy dear. It s only me surmises. Whin I first put me 
 eyes on ye down there at Mr. Swithers, sez I ter meseP, 
 an I sed the same ter me frind, sez I: He s not a com 
 mon lad o the streets, he isn t; an* old Swithers, he didn t 
 deny it." 
 
 "That is all?" 
 
 "Ain t that enough fer ter start on? Take it fer
 
 ^ GENTLEMAN BORN. 
 
 granted ye re a gintlemin s son born, phwat f olleys ? How 
 did ye come ter where I found ye ?" 
 
 "I can remember nothing further back than the time I 
 was at the Italian hovel, going out with the other children 
 to pick up refuse on the dumps." 
 
 "More s the pity ! Thin, ef ye cud find that Eyetalian 
 woman ye lived wid, maybe she cud till ye somethin , ef 
 she would they d do annything fer money, so they would, 
 the blasted dagos." 
 
 "Perhaps you are right," replied Guyon musingly. "I 
 wonder if Biglin could help me?" 
 
 "Is it me foreman ye mane?" 
 
 "Yes, he knew me during all those times. We worked 
 on the dumps together." 
 
 "I ll have im at the hotel ter-night an yees can talk it 
 over; but don t take it too much to heart, that s a brave 
 lad renumber, it s a long lane as hasn t a turn; an mind 
 phwat ye ve sed yersel as how there niver wus a grate 
 wrong that didn t right itself." 
 
 "I know I felt that way once; but it seems to me now 
 that I must put forth one more effort then, if I fail, 
 there is nothing left." 
 
 "Sure, there s iverything lift, an a big world fer ye 
 ter make a name fer yesel . But, here we are at the race 
 track. Mind, ye don t play too high, me b y!" 
 
 With this warning, given in a waggish tone with the in 
 tention of diverting the gloomy trend of Guyon s thoughts, 
 they left the cars, and, following the motely throng of 
 men and women, all eager and excited, jostling each other 
 in their anxiety to reach the ticket-window, they entered 
 the race track. 
 
 Passing inside the enclosure, they found hundreds of 
 people already in line waiting an opportunity to purchase a 
 ticket. Speculators were reaping a fair harvest, as many
 
 8HEEPSHEAD. 107 
 
 preferred paying an extra half-dollar to waiting a turn at 
 the window. To one familiar with the scenes at this famous 
 resort, there is always some unfailing point of interest, some 
 thing exhilarating in the atmosphere and surroundings, 
 from the moment he first places his money on the favor 
 ite "surely the winner," to the time when the other horse, 
 Avhich he knew "had not a ghost of a show," comes in a 
 neck ahead. 
 
 All this was so much a novelty to Guyon that every 
 other thought was banished from his mind ; and as he sat 
 there with a flush of excitement on his cheeks, his eyes 
 bright and alert, the old contractor figuratively hugged 
 himself with delight, vowing that his five hundred were 
 well spent, even if he lost, by giving this diversion to his 
 favorite. 
 
 "Here they come!" was the shout that brought the 
 crowds in the stands to their feet. The favorites were 
 cheered as they came into view. Breakaway after break 
 away tried everyone s patience and strong nerves up to the 
 highest pitch. At last, up flew the gates, down went the 
 flag, and the race was on. 
 
 There was a thunder of hoofs, and the horses whisked 
 by the stand in a whirl of dust and were almost lost to 
 view as they made the turn. Bounding into the back- 
 stretch, the field came clearly into view ; two game animals 
 were running like a harnessed pair in front, with a dozen 
 others close behind. 
 
 "See, Dad !" Guyon exclaimed, "they are nearing the 
 wire ; now my horse is drawing ahead ; I win, sure !" 
 
 "Don t be too certain of that, sir," remarked a sturdy 
 veteran at his side; "you ve thrown your money away 
 this time." 
 
 "I tell you " 
 
 "Ah, Guy, me b y, ye ve lost, sure! Ye wouldn t bet
 
 108 A GENTLEMAN BORN. 
 
 on Shamrock whin I told ye. It s Ireland that ll whip the 
 world, faith, it will." 
 
 "You re dead sure, this time, old gent!" exclaimed the 
 party at Guyon s side. 
 
 "Don t be too sure of that! See, even now mine s 
 ahead !" 
 
 "And wins!" admitted his neighbor, as a chestnut colt, 
 his sides foam-flecked and his head high up in the air, 
 galloped under the wire. 
 
 "Take it fer an omen," whispered the old contractor. 
 "Ye ll win yersel yet, Guy, mark my words." 
 
 "I wish that I had just a little grain of your supersti 
 tion at present," replied Guyon, "and I would face the 
 future hopefully."
 
 SEARCHING FOR EVIDENCE. 109 
 
 CHAPTER XIII. 
 
 SEARCHING FOR EVIDENCE. 
 
 THAT evening, Biglin, the foreman, was announced at 
 their apartments in the Hoffman House. 
 
 We can scarcely recognize in the smartly dressed young 
 man, who stood waiting in the hotel lobby, taking in every 
 thing with an air of absolute proprietorship, our friend 
 Swipsie, the striker. Only his ugly, honest counte 
 nance, and his shaggy, red hair, partially concealed be 
 neath a new straw hat, betray his identity. 
 
 "Wot fell !" he was saying to the clerk, "wot fell ! Why 
 doan youse make dose kids do a turn in a hurry, an not 
 keep decent blokes awaitin all night see?" 
 
 "Show the gentleman to Suite 506," said the sedate in 
 dividual who presided at the desk, without deigning to look 
 at his interlocutor. 
 
 "Youse sent fer me, an I chased meseP up soon es I 
 cud," said Biglin, standing with his hat in his hand, look 
 ing with a puzzled air, first at Guyon, and then at the old 
 contractor. 
 
 "Yis, I sint fer ye take a seat, will ye ?" 
 
 "Youse ain t goin ter gie a bloke de bounce, is youse?" 
 
 "Nothing is further from our minds, Biglin; we want 
 to talk with you about an important matter." 
 
 "I m wid youse in anyting s long es youse doan gie me 
 de go-by, see?" expostulated Biglin, as he settled himself 
 more at ease, now that he was satisfied that his position was 
 not at stake. Still he was at a loss to understand what
 
 110 A GENTLEMAN BORN. 
 
 service he could render the firm of "McCarty & Son" out 
 side of the regular routine of work. 
 
 "Ye see, Biglin," began the old contractor, taking the 
 bull by the horns, "me son, Guy, here, tills me that ye wus 
 wid im in the f urst times he remimbers annything about ; 
 an we thought maybe ye cud help im ter find out some 
 thing about the Eyetalians he lived wid." 
 
 "Dat s wot s up, is it? Wot fell cert n ly, Guy an 
 me was tergedder. Didn t wese pick rags an coal on de 
 dumps ?" 
 
 "I have not forgotten it, Biglin. You were just plain 
 Swipsie then, and I was what was the name they gave 
 me?" 
 
 "Aw, some Dago name ; Guynoni, I tink." 
 
 "Guynoni, it surely was. That is one point, Dad, that 
 may help us among the Italians." 
 
 "Faith, it might so, I dunno !" 
 
 "Does youse want ter chase roun Mott Street, an hunt 
 up de ole Dago woman, Rosa wasn t dat wot dey called 
 er?" 
 
 "Rosa it was, and none other ! He is a wonderful chap, 
 Dad ; mark how he remembers the names." 
 
 "Aw, dat s not in ! I se often chasin o er dose tings 
 in me mind, see? Fer I tinks all de time es dere was a 
 big scrap goin ter be bout Guy ; an I wants ter be in a de 
 finish, see?" 
 
 "I trust that the finish will be well, Biglin," said Guyon, 
 as he grasped his old comrade s hand with genuine warmth ; 
 "and indeed I feel even now a renewed confidence since 
 I have secured your assistance." 
 
 "Sure, ye re losin time now," interposed the old gentle 
 man. "Phwat d ye say we d best do furst, Biglin ?" 
 
 "Wot d I soy ? Well, I soy es Guy an me jes puts up a
 
 SEARCHING FOR EVIDENCE. Ill 
 
 little game on de Dagos, fer one ting. S pose wese 
 chases oursel s down dere an sees wot s goin on?" 
 
 "I m ready, Biglin. It s a capital night! They will 
 all be out in the street enjoying the summer breezes ; and 
 we can interview them without the annoyance of entering 
 their horrid abodes." 
 
 "Youse ain t fraid o dem blokes, Guy? Not ef youse 
 is like wot youse wus oncet. Hully gee ! youse cud trump 
 ell outer any two o dem !" 
 
 "So I could," replied Guyon laughing. 
 
 "Faith, an he can do it agin, that same," exclaimed Mr. 
 McCarty; "but Guy, me b y, take yer revolver, hadn t ye 
 better, now?" 
 
 "De shootin iron ain t so worse ef youse gits in a bad 
 scrap," remarked Biglin. 
 
 So Guyon, having retired to his room, and donned an 
 old suit of clothes whicli he had ready, soon appeared ; and 
 the two comrades of the storied Cherry Street, and of the 
 newsboys row, sallied forth in quest of some clew to 
 Guyon s parentage. 
 
 It was not very late in the evening when they arrived in 
 Mott Street. Here, many changes had taken place since 
 Guyon first made his appearance in the arms of the 
 Padrone Pietro. The street, now more thickly populated 
 with the Italians, had become, in every sense of the term, 
 a "little Italy," Children of all ages thronged the side 
 walks or revelled at the hydrants where the street-cleaning 
 department had turned on the water, Avith the double object 
 of cleansing the asphalt pavement, and cooling the heated 
 atmosphere. How they enjoyed themselves! boys and 
 girls alike, not caring a mite for the wetting when they 
 were pushed into the gushing flood, some even throwing 
 themselves down in the water and wallowing in it like so 
 many pigs ; while their elders sat in the doorways, or stood
 
 A GENTLEMAN BORN. 
 
 in groups at the entrance of the alleys, laughing at the 
 sport, and gabbling away in the Italian tongue. 
 
 "Does yer ketch on ter any o dese places, Guy?" asked 
 Biglin, as they walked along. 
 
 "No, I haven t the slightest remembrance of the scenes 
 h ere so many things have happened since, you know." 
 
 "Youse gie em a song an dance in dere lingo, can 
 ver?" 
 
 "If you mean address them in their mother tongue, I m 
 afraid I can t do that either." 
 
 "Mos o dese here Dagos speaks merican more den dey 
 used ter, cause dey chases deresel s roun wid de push 
 carts, or maybe de organ. I ll gie dis ole hag ere a smile 
 an see wot she sez." 
 
 Suiting the action to the word, Biglin approached a 
 group of old women, and with one of his comical grimaces, 
 which was something between a wink and a smile, or 
 perhaps a combination of both, inquired if they had lived 
 there long. 
 
 "Yes-a, we live-a long!" 
 
 "Any kid cud ketch on ter dat/ muttered Biglin aside. 
 
 "Do you know any one by the name of Eosa?" asked 
 Guyon. 
 
 "Eosa, yes-a, signor, me-a name Eosa many-a Eosa 
 here." 
 
 "T ell wid Eosa! Soy, me loidy, youse oughter be a 
 duchess er someting like dat where youse comes from ! 
 Youse is ded easy, youse is," chimed in Biglin. 
 
 "What-a he say-a? Me-a duchessa? No-a, no-a, you-a 
 say me-a look so-a grand-a, what you-a call ?" 
 
 "He says you are a fine lady," interrupted Guyon, be 
 coming impatient, and aware that they were attracting the 
 attention of some fierce-looking Italians not far away. 
 "Now tell me, do you know of a woman called Eosa, who
 
 SEARCHING FOR EVIDENCE. 113 
 
 lived here some years ago, and had many children in her 
 house, who picked rags on the dumps?" 
 
 "Pick-a zee rag Eosa. Oh, yes-a, signer! I know-a, 
 I know !" 
 
 "You know," exclaimed Guyon. "Here is a dollar tell 
 me what you know about her/ 
 
 The woman eagerly grabbed the money; and when it 
 was safe in her possession, gave him a searching look to 
 make sure that he was not a detective. Something in his 
 countenance reassured her, for she whispered: 
 
 "Yes-a, signer, me-a tell-a zee trut. Eosa, I know. 
 She-a dead!" Then, looking carefully around, she whis 
 pered again one word, "Mafia !" 
 
 "Dead !" exclaimed Guyon. "Are you sure ?" 
 
 "Ded?" repeated Biglin with an incredulous air. 
 
 "Is there no one who knows anything about her?" in 
 quired Guyon. "Here is another dollar, tell me quick!" 
 
 "Yes-a, for sure there ees-a ; but you-a keep way-a from 
 him. He-a vere bad man." 
 
 "Wot fell, wot fell! Gie us de name!" exclaimed 
 Biglin. 
 
 "Hees name, Madonna ! I fear to-a say eet. Set-a ees 
 Pietro." 
 
 "That s it, Biglin. I remember now, he used to visit 
 the house. The woman tells the truth. Let us get away 
 before those fellows approach. I would not spoil our game 
 by a fracas at this early stage." 
 
 "Wot youse sez goes, Guy, only I d jes like ter have a bit 
 of a scrap wid dose ugly Dagos, jes fer luck, see?" 
 
 "You ll have plenty of time for it later." 
 
 "All right, Guy; s pose wese takes in a show on de 
 Bow ry, dat is, ef youse ain t like de res o dem big mugs 
 wot doan go in fer a Bow ry show."
 
 A GENTLEMAN BORN. 
 
 "I don t feel much like it to-night, Biglin, but we ll go 
 if you wish. Where do you suggest?" 
 
 "De lantic Garding ain t so worse; dey puts up a de 
 cent show, an dey as good beer es youse can git any 
 where." 
 
 "We ll go." 
 
 As Biglin remarked, the Atlantic Garden, for years a 
 landmark on the Bowery, was a resort patronized by the 
 respectable, middle class of Germans; and what is known 
 as the "tough element" seldom gained admittance. When 
 Guyon and Biglin entered, they found the place well filled 
 with men and women sitting at small round tables, chatting 
 together over their beer, which was often eked out with a 
 dish of frankfurter and sauerkraut; while here and there, 
 a few sailors were lounging, making their presence known 
 by a boisterous conversation. At one side, upon a stage, 
 was an orchestra of female performers, and this, together 
 with a light, clean vaudeville, made up the entertainment. 
 
 It was not without interest to Guyon; and he found 
 himself studying the strange faces about him as he sipped 
 his sherry, while Biglin was regaling himself to the ex 
 tent of a glass of beer and a plate of frankfurters. 
 
 "It s a Dutch go, Guy; but VG mus feed yer face wid 
 suthin ," he said by way of apology, poising a sausage on 
 his fork. "Dis ere kyute won t never bark no more, he 
 won t." 
 
 "What did you say ?" asked Guyon. 
 
 "Aw nothing I was jes talkin ter de sassage. Say. 
 Guy, d ye ketch on ter dat gal on de stage dere, doin a 
 turn?" 
 
 "I m looking at her; what of it?" 
 
 "D ye know wot s in me nut dis minit?" 
 
 "A great deal, Biglin; a vast store of nonsense, I m 
 sure."
 
 SEARCHING FOR EVIDENCE. 115 
 
 "Well, ef dere is, it won t do no harm ter stay dere, 
 slong as it doan fly de coop. Es I wus chinnin , dis ere gal 
 makes me tink o Dimples/ 
 
 "Dimples?" 
 
 "Cert , Dimples." 
 
 "Who s Dimples? A young lady friend of yours?" 
 
 "Now, Guy, doan youse remember de kid wot we saved 
 from under de Bridge, dat night, an took ter Mrs. 
 O Shaugnessy s?" 
 
 "Of course I do. How strange that I should have for 
 gotten so much of the old times !" exclaimed Guyon. 
 "Dimples, the bright little baby girl that I was so fond of, 
 and the Christmas-tree we got up for her, and the cart 
 Mr. Swithers made it all comes back to me now. Poor 
 child, she must have grown to be quite a lady by this time." 
 
 "Yer bet, she is!" 
 
 "What do you know about her, Biglin? Tell me; I 
 am interested perhaps I can do something for her to make 
 up for my past neglect." 
 
 "Naw ye can t, needer." 
 
 "What do you mean, is she dead?" 
 
 "Not as I knows on. Yer see, it wus dis way. Dimples, 
 she growd up es purty as ever yer d like ter set your peep 
 ers on. My, but she wus a hummer, an she knowd it, too, 
 dat wus de worst of t. An she led de ole ooman a hell 
 of a life, did Dimples. She didn t do a ting but be 
 outen de streets wid de boys, an dey wus scrappin all de 
 time bout her. Den, de ole ooman died, an de las wus 
 heard o Dimples, she d cum up town an wus in one o dose 
 swell teayters." 
 
 "Great Heaven !" exclaimed Guyon, "here I have been 
 tearing my heart out with my own troubles, when I might 
 have done something to save this little one whom Provi-
 
 116 A GENTLEMAN BORN, 
 
 dence so mysteriously placed in our hands. Why didn t 
 you tell me of this before, Biglin?" 
 
 "Tell youse? I didn t tink yer d care ter hear bout it, 
 see ? and maybe, she ain t so worse a ter all. Does all dose 
 gals in de teayters be bad?" 
 
 "No, of course not; but it isn t what I should picture 
 Dimples doing, as I remember her now with her sweet, 
 innocent face, and baby ways." 
 
 "She hadn t many o her baby ways when de ole ooman 
 died, I guess ; my, she wus a peach !" 
 
 "A what?" 
 
 "Jes J a peach, dat s all." 
 
 "Poor Dimples !" said Guyon, half aloud ; "her fate was 
 similar to my own, abandoned by those who should have 
 cared for her, her parents doubtless of excellent birth, 
 but how different has been her lot from mine ! I can bat 
 tle through somehow, but a young girl a beautiful one 
 there s the danger ! I must try to find her, Biglin." 
 
 "Maybe yer ll run across her some time, ef youse goes 
 to de teayters; but youse ain t goin ter gie up yer own 
 game, Guy ?" said Biglin with an air of disappointment. 
 
 "No, Biglin; but I don t see what there is to be done. 
 We have learned all that we could in Mott Street. You 
 heard the Italian women say that Eosa is dead. All we 
 know is that the man Pietro is living what can we ob 
 tain from that intelligence? Doubtless, he doesn t know 
 anything about me; and if he does, in all probability his 
 lips are sealed." 
 
 "Doan be ded sure o dat, Guyon. Ef ye ll gie me de 
 word, I ll chase a ter im when I ain t got notin ter do; 
 an ef he s livin an knows anyting bout youse, I ll trump 
 ell out o ? im till I gits it." 
 
 "Don t get yourself into trouble in my service, Biglin."
 
 SEARCHING FOR EVIDENCE. 11? 
 
 "Trubble s wot I m lookin fer. Dere ain t no fun^m 
 nothin else, Guy! Sides, ef youse lemme say so, youse 
 wus me brudder oncet an allus, an , damn it, I ll be in at 
 de finish!"
 
 A GENTLEMAN BORN. 
 
 CHAPTER XIV. 
 
 CLUB LIFE. 
 
 WHILST Guyon was busily occupied with his new duties, 
 as a partner of the firm of McCarty & Son, the summer 
 days passed swiftly by. Sometimes it was a subject of 
 wonder to himself that he could come down to the 
 routine of practical business life, forgetting for the mo 
 ment his more serious troubles. Still, there were 
 moments when even this new hobby failed to divert his 
 attention; then it was that he sought relief at the races, 
 remembering his first visit in company with the old gen 
 tleman, and the exhilarating effect it had produced upon 
 his mind and spirits. 
 
 But, as the antidote for a grievous illness when taken 
 in homeopathic doses will prove beneficial, and the same, 
 taken in large quantities, will invite death, so it happened 
 that Guyon, after a time, became so infatuated with the 
 races, that before a month had elapsed, he was a regular 
 habitue. Fortune, too, conspired to his ruin in this 
 direction; for at first he had a long run of luck; then, 
 suddenly, it changed; but it was not in his composition 
 to stop before a little freak of the tricksy dame. He con 
 tinued losing until his allowance was overdrawn, and he 
 was forced to borrow. 
 
 About this time, the old contractor and his wife returned, 
 and the house on Seventy-second Street was reopened. 
 Mr. McCarty learned from his clerk, Burns, of Guyon s 
 frequent absence from the office, but attributing it to his 
 uneasy state of mind, and perhaps to his being on the
 
 CLUB LIFE. 119 
 
 lookout for the missing clew to his parentage, he said noth 
 ing- 
 One evening Guyon came in later than usual. His ex 
 traordinarily low-spirited condition, added to his haggard 
 appearance, touched the old gentleman s heart. Guyon 
 avoided all attempts at conversation, and was about to 
 retire to his room, when his foster-father addressed him: 
 "Guy, me b y, come in me din, an let s have a bit of a 
 talk. We haven t seed much o each other since the Missus 
 came home/ 
 
 "No, Dad, I ve been away a good deal, and and I 
 don t feel in the humor for talking to-night." 
 
 "Don t ye, now ? That s not like me son, Guy, as niver 
 wus too tired ter have a bit of a chat wid Dad in de 
 din." 
 
 "There s no resisting you; I ll come." 
 
 "Sure, I knew ye would. Now, phwat s turned up at 
 all, I dunno, ter make ye so out o sorts?" exclaimed the 
 old gentleman, as he filled his little black "dudeen," and, 
 seating himself, invited Guyon to a chair at his side. 
 
 "You remember the day we went to the races?" Guyon 
 began, bracing himself for the ordeal. 
 
 "The races? Faith, I do; an it wus a fine move on 
 me part, an I ve thought that same manny s the time. 
 Sure, it did ye good, didn t it?" 
 
 "That was the curse of it. The first effect was good. 
 There was something in the whole atmosphere of the track 
 which I found more beneficial than strict application to 
 business." 
 
 "Ye wint there agin, thin, phwile I wus away?" 
 
 "Again ! I wish it was only once. I have attended the 
 races almost every day!" 
 
 "Have ye now?" replied the old gentleman, looking at
 
 120 A GENTLEMAN BORN. 
 
 Guyon with a half -amused, half-quizzical air; "an lost, 
 did ye?" 
 
 "Yes, I lost. I overdrew the handsome allowance you 
 placed at my disposal, and I am in debt/ 
 
 "Much?" 
 
 "A few thousands." 
 
 "Is that all, Guy?" 
 
 "That s all, Dad ; now ain t you sorry that you behaved 
 so generously with me?" 
 
 "Not a bit, me lad," exclaimed Mr. McCarty, rising from 
 his chair, and taking both of the young man s hands in 
 his own. "Not a bit. I m more glad than sorry. Phwat s 
 a thousand more or less ? Ye ve had yer fling, ye got a bit 
 o fun out of it, an I m only sorry ye tuck it so much ter 
 heart; that spiles it all." 
 
 "Don t say any more, Dad, I can t listen to it. You 
 overwhelm me when I expected at least a word of re 
 proach." 
 
 "Tut, tut, b y! Niver a harsh word has I gied ye, an 
 I won t neither; only a little word o advice. Ye see, I m 
 a bit older nor ye, Guy; an I ve been tro it all mesel ; 
 only I niver bid so high as ter lose big money, an I 
 knew whin I d enuf of it. Ye ll take the hint, now." 
 
 "I understand what you mean, Dad. Yes, I have had 
 enough of it, more than enough ; and I give you my word 
 I shall never be seen at the races again." 
 
 "Don t say niver! It won t do ye anny harm oncet in 
 a phwile." 
 
 "I think it is best for me to avoid them altogether, Dad. 
 I intend to apply myself to business now." 
 
 "Sure, ye must have a bit o fun all work an no play, 
 ye know. Hain t ye run across yer frind, that College 
 chap that had ye at his home in Newport, I dunno ?"
 
 CLUB LIFE. 
 
 "I have not, although he must be in the city, I think. 
 Why do you ask, Dad ?" 
 
 Well, I dunno. Faith, he s a good, fine lad, I m 
 thinkin , an he might be takin ye ter his club er some 
 place phwere ye d enjy yerseP." 
 
 "I have no desire to meet those people whom I saw at 
 Newport. You remember our conversation about my 
 sojourn there/ 
 
 "Yis, but I can t see anny thing ter kape ye away. Thin, 
 if I must say it, the Missus is axin me ivery day ef ye s 
 goin ter mix in wid em this Fall." 
 
 "Oh, I see how it is, Dad ; and if you both desire it, my 
 own inclination shall be subservient to your wishes." 
 
 "Fer this oncet, Guy, I think ye should. Sure, no good 
 11 cum ter a young lad like ye a mopin round alone, er 
 shut up wid ole grannies like me an the Missus; only 
 she d not like ter be called a granny, would she, now?" 
 
 Judging it to be a duty incumbent upon him, although 
 in his heart he disliked the idea of mingling in Harold s 
 set, fearing lest he might be coldly received, or openly ig 
 nored by some on account of his birth, Guyon had resolved 
 to visit his College chum the next evening. He was then, 
 more than surprised when he met that individual on 
 Broadway as he was strolling home from office. 
 
 "Hello, Guy, old fellow ! Where did you drop from?" 
 
 "I didn t know that I had dropped physically, although I 
 may have dropped in avoirdupois since I saw you last." 
 
 "Indeed, you look it. Do you know, I never saw any 
 one more changed in my life ! I had to look at you twice 
 before I recognized you." 
 
 "Did you ? That speaks well for Auld Lang Syne/ " 
 
 "Come, now, you are lively enough to conjure up a 
 taunt. Take it back, Guy, or we ll have a tussle here on 
 the street. But seriously, come along, we can chat as
 
 A GENTLEMAN BORN. 
 
 we walk. Neither of us has any particular business at 
 this hour." 
 
 "No, my business is completed for the day." 
 
 "Business? You don t tell me that you are actually 
 working ?" 
 
 "What would you have me do? Were I without an 
 occupation, I would die/ 
 
 "But your education, does that count for nothing? 
 Aren t the professions open to you?" 
 
 "Yes, but I m young yet there s plenty of time for 
 all that." 
 
 "Plenty of time for nothing!" exclaimed Harold in a 
 burst of friendly indignation. "I tell you, Guy, you aro 
 wasting your energy, wasting your time and strength 
 you are a wreck of your grand old self! No, I will hear 
 no expostulations. Listen to me; I have been thinking 
 lots about you ever since you left us so suddenly at New 
 port; and I came to the conclusion that you must 
 mingle with our set, whether you willed or not. Acting 
 upon these premises, I lost no time, at the first meeting 
 of my club, in proposing you for membership." 
 
 "A most foolish move on your part, Hal; you might 
 at least have spared me the shame of being turned down." 
 
 "Turned down? The Devil you say! Turn down ,\ 
 man whom I propose? Not by a jug-full ! Even Barclay 
 and his set are anxious to have you." 
 
 "Barclay?" 
 
 "Yes, Barclay; and now that you are a full-fledged 
 member of the Club, with only a few necessary prelimi 
 naries to settle, which we will attend to to-night, I want 
 to sav a few words about the men." 
 
 "Fire away, old fellow! I m not unmindful of how 
 well you have filled the office of mentor on former occa 
 sions."
 
 CLUB LIFE. 133 
 
 "How badly, you mean ; but I trust that my advice will 
 be better heeded in this instance." 
 
 "The past lies buried at Newport." 
 
 "Don t raise the ghost, Guy; now, as I was saying, 
 about the Club, you must know that in every institution of 
 this kind, there are all sorts of fellows, morally, I mean. 
 We don t inquire particularly into that point when a man 
 is proposed. My experience with some of them is that they 
 do you no good. They are, in fact, a fast set, going in for 
 the races, gambling, women and the like. You will meet 
 them; there is no occasion for openly cutting them; but 
 don t be on too familiar terms with any of them." 
 
 "You think that I am not capable of taking care of my 
 self?" replied Guyon, a little piqued. 
 
 "There you go! my friend of too finely wrought sen 
 sibilities. Of course you are able to take care of your 
 self ; only, you don t always act as though you were." 
 
 "I assure you that I will give heed to your caution in 
 this particular, Hal. I have not forgotten my past ex 
 periences." 
 
 "Nor I either. Do you know, Guy, you are often an 
 enigma to me? So true and firm of purpose at times, 
 one might almost consider you a Gibraltar against out 
 side impressions presto! the next moment you display 
 a weakness that is, to say the least, appalling." 
 
 "It is my misfortune, Hal; a freak of heredity, I pre 
 sume. I can account for it in no other way; and being 
 such as I am, it is good of you to act as my mentor. Con 
 tinue, if you don t mind, even though I declare myself tha 
 basest inerrate." 
 
 "That I shall, old fellow. Now, you will be at the Club 
 to-night, won t you ?" 
 
 "Without fail." 
 
 About nine o clock, Guyon sauntered into the
 
 A GENTLEMAN BORN. 
 
 Club. It was one of the latest organized, and hence the 
 most elaborately furnished of its kind in the city, patron 
 ized by the youthful scions of the best families. Once in 
 side the imposing entrance, one is impressed by the solidity 
 and richness of the place. A great hall, the floor of which 
 is laid in mosaics of delicate design, columns of rare old 
 Italian marble, and broad stairways with balustrades of 
 the same costly material; while the reception-room, 
 library, reading-room and art-gallery present a contrast 
 in the warmth of decoration. Incandescent bulbs in mas 
 sive, chandeliers furnish abundant light, giving a tinge 
 of color to the marbles and to the decorations of the 
 various apartments. 
 
 Harold Brandon was on hand to greet Guyon, and con 
 ducted him at once to the clerk s office, where the finan 
 cial part of his membership was quickly disposed of; 
 thence to the library where he was introduced to the Presi 
 dent, the members of the Board of Directors, and other 
 prominent men. 
 
 "We trust that you will feel perfectly at home here, 
 Mr. McCarty," said Mr. Percival, the President, a noted 
 young member of the bar. 
 
 "I do not see how it can be otherwise amid such mag 
 nificent surroundings," Guyon replied. 
 
 "Yes, it is tolerably comfortable. Bather an agreeable 
 change from our old quarters on Madison Avenue, eh, 
 Brandon?" 
 
 "I should say so ! Still, we had some good old times 
 down there." 
 
 "Have you taken Mr. McCarty over the place? Few of 
 the men have come in yet, so you will have time to inspect 
 the various establishments, and our friend must see his 
 own apartment."
 
 CLUB LIFE. 125 
 
 Am I to have a room for my own use?" asked Guyon, 
 when Harold led the way to the elevator. 
 
 "Certainly ; each member is entitled to that. Of course 
 you don t have to live here unless you feel so inclined; 
 but it s convenient sometimes, you know." 
 
 Up they went to the very top of the lofty edifice. 
 
 "That is the kitchen with its various appointments to 
 the right; you don t care about looking in there, I sup 
 pose," said Harold, as they stepped out of the elevator. 
 
 "Just a look. It is perfect, I should say; but I don t 
 know much about the culinary appurtenances." 
 
 "On the floor below are the private rooms. We ll look 
 into your apartment to see if you are satisfied with it." 
 
 "Couldn t be better!" exclaimed Guyon, as he peeped 
 into a cozy bachelor den, replete with everything sug 
 gestive of creature comfort, from the brass bedstead with 
 delicate hangings, to the substantial dresser, the open fire 
 place and the easy chairs. "I can almost resolve to take 
 up my abode here at once," he added. 
 
 "Not so fast, Guy ! This is mine adjoining. You may 
 remark the door connecting the two rooms; it s rather 
 social, I fancy." 
 
 "Excellent ! How thoughtful of you to select it for me, 
 Hal." 
 
 "Was it? Well, I wouldn t have any one else there, 
 so you may take that idea as you wish." 
 
 "A most delicate compliment, old fellow." 
 
 "Shall we inspect the dining-rooms on the next floor?" 
 
 "Of course; I want to see everything." 
 
 "Here is one closed. What is this for, Owens?" cried 
 Harold, addressing the Superintendent of the Club, who 
 was passing at that moment. 
 
 "It s closed on account of fixin for a little supper Mr,
 
 126 A GENTLEMAN BORN. 
 
 Barclay is goin to give to his friends to-night, sir," re 
 plied Owens. 
 
 "Barclay giving a supper to-night? That s strange; I 
 haven t heard of it Some of his set, I suppose." 
 
 "Has Barclay come yet?" asked Guy on, with just a little 
 nervous tremor in his voice. He dreaded the meeting, 
 remembering where he had last heard him speaking, and 
 fearing lest he should show some resentment towards the 
 man who had come between him and his love. 
 
 "Listen! If I m not mistaken, that s his laugh in the 
 billiard-room below. Do you wish to join the crowd 
 there?" 
 
 "What other rooms remain which we have not in 
 spected?" asked Guyon, anxious to defer the meeting as 
 long as possible. 
 
 "Oh, there s the directors room yonder, and here is a 
 cozy little cafe and other private dining-rooms adjoin it; 
 then, on the floor below, are the Milliard-room, the gen 
 eral dining-room, and more cafes." 
 
 will go down now, if you wish."
 
 A STAG SUPPER. JL27 
 
 CHAPTEK XV. 
 
 A STAG SUPPEK. 
 
 As they entered the billiard-room, they found most of 
 the tables occupied with lively groups of young chaps, 
 some really intent upon the game, while others handled 
 their cues with a careless grace, more for the amusement 
 and pastime, than for any more serious purpose. 
 
 "Hello, Brandon, we re waiting for you!" cried Bar 
 clay, advancing from the other end of the room. 
 
 "You have met Mr. McCarty, have you not?" asked 
 Harold. 
 
 "By Jove, of course at the Barrington ball last sum 
 mer! And heard so much of you since! I m delighted 
 to renew your acquaintance, Mr. McCarty," he continued, 
 grasping the hand which Guyon reluctantly placed in 
 his. 
 
 "It is good of you to say all that," murmured Guyon. 
 "It is owing to Harold s persuasion that I have come 
 here." 
 
 "I m deuced glad he s brought you out. We want more 
 fine, brave fellows like you here. I haven t seen you since 
 that accident at Newport." 
 
 "Please don t mention it," replied Guyon a little 
 huskily. 
 
 "Oh, I understand; you re too modest, you are. What 
 do you say to a game? You play, I suppose?" 
 
 "Yes, a little." 
 
 "Come, then; here are some fellows of the right sort. 
 I want you to know them."
 
 128 A GENTLEMAN BORN. 
 
 "Wrong sort! I should say," muttered Harold. 
 
 "Mr. Bracer, and Mr. Norwood, this is our latest ac 
 quisition to the Club, Mr. Guyon McCarty," said Barclay, 
 introducing two young chappies of his own stamp, well- 
 dressed, and of approved manners; but upon whose fea 
 tures the lines of licentiousness were plainly discernible. 
 
 "I have heard very much of you, Mr. McCarty. You are 
 welcome to our set," said Bracer. 
 
 "Deuced glad to know you," said Norwood, poising his 
 cue in one hand, and favoring Guyon with a patronizing 
 stare. 
 
 "I m afraid the pleasure is all on my side," said Guyon. 
 "I am honored by your acquaintance, gentlemen." 
 
 "Where have you been keeping yourself, Brandon?" 
 queried Bracer. 
 
 "Nowhere in particular, and everywhere in general," 
 he replied. 
 
 "Will you join us in a game, fellows?" 
 
 "With pleasure," said Guyon. 
 
 "All right; select your cue. They re all pretty good, 
 still, you may have a preference." 
 
 "I say, McCarty," said Norwood, when the game was 
 fairly progressing, "haven t I seen you somewhere before ?" 
 
 "I really don t know. I can t recollect having seen 
 you." 
 
 "Still, your face is familiar. Pardon me, but it s not a 
 face one meets every day." 
 
 "So out of the ordinary? I don t think that it has 
 graced the Rogues Gallery yet," Guyon replied. 
 
 "No, no, I didn t mean that; your phiz is all right. 
 Now, I have it, I saw you at the race track." 
 
 "Most probably; I attended the races." 
 
 "I was dead sure of it! Pretty nice sport, isn t it? 
 And one sees some deuced fine stock there,"
 
 A STAG SUPPER. 129 
 
 "Very fine stock I generally lost on them." 
 
 "The women?" 
 
 "No, the horses." 
 
 "Did you hear that, Barclay?" whispered Norwood to 
 his friend. "McCarty is not so slow as he appears. We 
 must take him in hand." 
 
 "Leave that to me. He ll be a jolly sport before the 
 season is out," replied Barclay; then addressing the 
 others : 
 
 "Say, you fellows, I ve taken the liberty to order a 
 little spread up stairs in honor of our new member. I 
 trust you will join us, Mr. McCarty, and vou Mr. Bran 
 don?" 
 
 "With pleasure," replied Guyon. 
 
 "Now, that is a surprise, Barclay," said Harold. "Do 
 you know, my friend and I were inspecting the place, and 
 we found one of the private dining-rooms closed. Making 
 inquiry, I learned from Owens that you were giving a 
 supper to-night; but had not the slightest idea that we 
 were to be the recipients of your hospitality." 
 
 "Didn t you ? Well, you see, it isn t often we can catch 
 you, Hal; and then, we thought we d like to make it all- 
 around comfortable for Mr. McCarty here." 
 
 "Oh, I see!" replied Harold with significant emphasis. 
 "Are any others invited ?" 
 
 "Yes, I asked Percival. He s a good fellow, but rather 
 staid and sober like yourself. There s the summons now 
 haste to the feast !" 
 
 The President of the Club was waiting outside the 
 billiard-room; and the party were soon seated around 
 a rather luxuriously appointed board. After the tempting 
 viands were disposed of, wine began to flow, such wine as 
 only the Club could boast of. 
 
 Mr. Percival proposed the toast of the evening "The
 
 A GENTLEMAN BORN. 
 
 new member," to which Guyon replied in a few appropriate 
 remarks, after which Harold proposed "The Ladies." 
 
 "The Ladies, God bless them!" cried Barclay. "It s 
 only a shame that they are not with us to-night." 
 
 "You object to stag suppers ?" said Guyon. 
 
 "Object to them? Most emphatically. There is no 
 pleasure in life, no matter when or where you may name 
 it, that is complete without the presence of the beautiful 
 sex." 
 
 "Granted, excellent! most delicately put," said Mr. 
 Percival. 
 
 "So say I," chimed in Bracer. "Only, don t cher know, 
 I enjoy above all things a little supper after the play in 
 company with a few pretty chorus girls, a ballet dancer, or 
 something of that sort." 
 
 "I cannot say that I appreciate your taste," said Harold. 
 "These women may be all right in their place; but I 
 don t see why we should wine them and dine them." 
 
 "Don t you? That s just the part of your education 
 which has been neglected." 
 
 "And for which I am not sorry." 
 
 "For my part," remarked Guyon, "I agree with Mr. 
 Brandon. I feel that we men do not and cannot court the 
 society of women of that class without a social detriment 
 ensuing either to ourselves or to them." 
 
 "You are quite right, Mr. McCarty," said Percival. 
 "From what our friend Bracer has said, we must infer 
 that the object in meeting these women is pleasure; not 
 intellectual pleasure always; for chorus girls are not as 
 a rule given to pursuits of the intellect. What then? 
 The enjoyment must be, to say the least, questionable." 
 
 "That depends upon the way you look at it !" exclaimed 
 Barclay, warming to the subject. "I claim that a 
 beautiful woman, one who possesses a figure which an
 
 A STAG SUPPER. 131 
 
 artist or a sculptor would rave over, whose eyes are be- 
 witchingly ravishing, whose complexion is immaculate, 
 is far more entrancing to a man s vision than one who is 
 passingly pretty and possesses the highest intellectual 
 gifts." 
 
 "In a word," said Guyon, "you prefer that which ap 
 peals to the sensuous, the passionate side of manhood?" 
 
 "If you take it so, I do. What are women created for, 
 I should like to know, if not for our amusement?" 
 
 "To be the merest creatures and slaves, as they were 
 in the days of luxurious Greece and Rome?" exclaimed 
 Harold. 
 
 "I have not gone to that limit; but since you mention 
 it, I can suggest no better employment for the darlings." 
 
 "A toast to Barclay s white slave !" cried Norwood. 
 
 "Are you drunk or crazy, Norwood ?" whispered Barclay 
 to his friend; at the same time his face flushed crimson 
 as he looked furtively from one to the other to note the 
 effect of the remark. 
 
 "I am certain that Mr. Barclay does not wish us to 
 drink to that toast, judging by his countenance," said 
 Percival. 
 
 "You will retract your opinions of the fair sex, Mr. 
 Barclay," said Guyon, "when you recall one who at least 
 cannot be numbered in the class you mention." 
 
 "I am at a loss to understand you, sir." 
 
 "Mr. McCarty can refer to none other than the 
 beautiful and accomplished young lady whom we three 
 met at Newport," said Harold. 
 
 "Oh, that is another matter! I pray you drop it from 
 our conversation." 
 
 "Considering the drift of the conversation, nothing 
 would please us better," replied Harold with emphasis. 
 
 "Gentlemen," cried Bracer, now a little the worse for
 
 132 A GENTLEMAN BORN. 
 
 the many glasses of champagne he had imbibed, "we have 
 not yet heard from the toast Mr. Norwood so gallantly 
 proposed." 
 
 "Damn you! Will you be quiet?" exclaimed Barclay. 
 
 "I see no harm in the toast," persisted the irrepressi 
 ble Bracer. "Why shouldn t you carry into effect the 
 theory you so lately gave utterance to ? If women are but 
 for our pleasure, why " 
 
 "This is going too far ! It is surpassing the bounds of 
 decency, to say the least," said Mr. Percival. "If you 
 persist in the present trend of your remarks, I for one shall 
 Avithdraw." 
 
 "You surely will not break up this little festivity ?" said 
 Barclay. "We were but expressing our individual opinions. 
 This is a liberty which can be denied to no one." 
 
 "For my part," said Guyon, "I fail to understand why 
 men cannot sit down to their wine without uttering some 
 unfavorable comments on the opposite sex. They deserve 
 our highest respect and admiration. Gentlemen, when 
 you are speaking in such a strain, do you reflect for a 
 moment that your general allusions must include your own 
 mothers and sisters." 
 
 "Bravo, Guy!" cried Harold. 
 
 "Mr. McCarty surely forgot to mention our cousins and 
 aunts," said Norwood. 
 
 "You are a little too strait-laced, McCarty," said 
 Barclay. "You haven t been about town much, I presume." 
 
 "What part of it, may I ask?" 
 
 "Oh, the Tenderloin district, for instance." 
 
 "No, I must confess an ignorance of that select (?) por 
 tion of the city." 
 
 "Doesn t know the Tenderloin ! That s a go !" shouted 
 Bracer. "Why, you must do it before you re a day older."
 
 A STAG SUPPER. 133 
 
 "Perhaps I shall; but even then, I doubt if the ob 
 servation will change my expressed opinions." 
 
 "Wait and see !" said Bracer. 
 
 From this point the conversation gradually drifted to 
 a lower plane; and Norwood was relating some of his ex 
 periences and "jolly good times" in the aforesaid local- 
 "j, when Percival, who had now become thoroughly dis 
 gusted, rose and left the room, followed by Harold. 
 Guyon was also about to withdraw, but Barclay whispered 
 that he desired a private conversation. 
 
 "I want to have a few words with you," he said when 
 they reached one of the little cafes on the same floor. 
 "I believe from what I saw of you at Newport, and from 
 some of your remarks this evening, that you are interested 
 in Miss Gordon?" 
 
 "Pardon me, sir," Guyon replied with unfeigned anger 
 and surprise, "I do not see how it concerns you, or what 
 warrant you have for addressing me on this subject." 
 
 "I intend no offence, perhaps I am mistaken; but the 
 very fact of your rescuing her at the time of the sorry 
 capsizing of my yacht, your taking so much upon yourself 
 in conveying her to her home " 
 
 "Counts for nothing. I would have done the same for 
 anyone under the same circumstances." 
 
 "Ah, then I am mistaken," persisted Barclay, with evi 
 dent chagrin. "Perhaps you heard the rumor of our 
 engagement ?" 
 
 "I did, and more. I heard your conversation on the 
 cliffs, which confirmed any vague gossip that might have 
 reached me." 
 
 "You heard the conversation ? The Devil, you say ! 
 Now I cannot imagine that you were an intentional eaves 
 dropper."
 
 134 A GENTLEMAN BORN. 
 
 "Perhaps you had better not go that far," exclaimed 
 Guyon. 
 
 "Easy now, no insult intended; didn t know that you 
 were so hot ; but since you heard so much by chance, I can 
 only add what you probably did not hear." 
 
 "I did not remain long in my position, I can assure you. 
 I was strolling among the cliffs, chanced to be on the path 
 above the bridge,, and the sound came to me with accurate 
 distinctness." 
 
 "I see! Pardon me, once more. As I was saying. 
 Miss Gordon on that occasion proved that she can be 
 most cruel and cold-hearted." 
 
 "Do you tell me that she rejected you?" cried Guyon. 
 The confession came so suddenly that he betrayed his own 
 inmost feelings, not only in the sound of his voice, but 
 also in the heightened color of his countenance. Nothing 
 escaped Barclay s scrutinizing glance. He had now caught 
 the idea he was after. 
 
 "Rejected me is a tame word," he replied. "She posi 
 tively declared that she could not endure my presence." 
 
 "Ah !" It was something like a deep-drawn sigh of 
 relief, as the dawn of a new ray of hope shot athwart the 
 shadows of his soul. 
 
 "You are convinced now, I trust," said Barclay, "that 
 my interest in the young lady is at an end. Of course, 
 you are at liberty to follow your own ideas, only I thought 
 you might profit by my experience that s all." 
 
 "You are kind to take the trouble, but, I assure you, 
 there is not the least need of it." 
 
 "I m on the right track, after all," thought Barclay. 
 "Perhaps she loved him and that was the reason why she 
 refused me ! Bah ! two can play at that little game, old 
 chap. George Barclay was never yet foiled in his object 
 without his adversary counting the cost."
 
 A STAG SUPPER. 135 
 
 And Guyon, when he parted from this strange man on 
 terms of friendship, as the growing warmth of his love 
 lighted up his nature, felt that he must be grateful to 
 him, seeing that he had brought this wonderful gift back 
 again to his heart.
 
 136 A GENTLEMAN BORN. 
 
 CHAPTER XVI. 
 
 CONSPIRATORS. 
 
 "You are prompt in responding to my invitation, Mr. 
 Barclay." 
 
 "I generally try to be, sir; but I must say that the in 
 vitation was a little surprise, after what has occurred." 
 
 "Doubtless. Come up to my private suite, and we will 
 talk a little on that subject and on others of kindred in 
 terest." 
 
 The meeting by special appointment between these two 
 gentlemen was at Perry Barrington s Club. Like to that in 
 which Guy on had made his debut, this was a most fashionable 
 club, although the members were older, and supposed to 
 be of more settled habits. The decorations were solid and 
 substantial, old in style, but not a part of anything was 
 wanting that would suggest wealth and warmth of color. 
 Even the rugs on the highly polished floors were of Oriental 
 texture, while footfalls on the stairs were hushed in the 
 richest carpets. The portraits in the library, the general 
 cafe, and in the room set aside for the directors, were real 
 masterpieces; while a massive window of stained glass, 
 just at the head of the main stairway, was a work of art in 
 itself, showing to best advantage when the sun s mellow 
 rays at evening streamed full upon it, bringing out the 
 faintest touches of light and shade. 
 
 Perry s suite of rooms, to which he was conducting Bar 
 clay, were on the fourth floor. The sitting-room, where a 
 couple of arm chairs drawn up before an open grate fire 
 suggested in themselves a kindly welcome, not to speak of
 
 CON8PIRA TORS. 1 37 
 
 a couch, bookcases, a mahogany desk, more easy chairs 
 and a table with its burden of decanter, glasses and cigars. 
 Adjoining was the sleeping apartment which Perry rarely 
 if ever occupied. 
 
 "Be seated here, Mr. Barclay. What will you have? 
 This is fairly good whiskey help yourself that s right. 
 Nothing like making yourself at home, my boy." 
 
 "One could not do otherwise in presence of such gen 
 erous hospitality, sir." 
 
 "That is what club-life fosters, I think. Take a 
 cigar ! Now that we feel more at home, I will speak on the 
 theme we started below." 
 
 "Exactly. As I was saying, you must know my feelings 
 after what has happened between your Ward and myself." 
 
 "What happened? Nonsense! Girls are whimsical. 
 They say No one day and regret it the next." 
 
 "Do you say that Miss Gordon has relented?" 
 
 "How should I know that ?" 
 
 "From your remark, I surmised that she had confided 
 in you." 
 
 "No, I did not go that far. I said, or rather intended 
 to say that, generally speaking, girls do not always under 
 stand themselves in affairs de coeur" 
 
 "I do not see how that helps me out," said Barclay, 
 rising from his chair and pacing the apartment. 
 
 "You do not catch the drift of my remarks," suggested 
 Perry, puffing leisurely at his cigar, and not even deign 
 ing to glance at the young man. "Take my assertion for 
 granted, what follows? May not my Ward exercise her 
 privilege and change her mind ?" 
 
 "Yes," said Barclay, pausing in his walk, "if her affec 
 tions and her heart are not already bestowed in another 
 direction." 
 
 "The Devil, you say !" exclaimed Perry with well-assumed
 
 138 A GENTLEMAN BORN. 
 
 agitation. "Pray, how came you by this information ? If 
 there is anything in it, I, as the young lady s guardian, 
 should be the first to know it." 
 
 "And not the last to act, sir, I trust. Before I answer 
 your question directly, allow me to ask you another. You 
 said that you invited me here to-night concerning your 
 Ward. Is my suit agreeable to you ?" 
 
 "It is. Of all the young men who have sought the hand 
 and the fortune of Miss Gordon, there is not one to 
 whom I would more willingly bestow this priceless treasure 
 than yourself. Without attempting flattery, you have 
 appeared in a most favorable light even before I was con 
 scious of your intentions towards my Ward. Your family 
 name is without a blemish. .Your own character well, 
 we do not turn too many searchlights upon a young man s 
 character nowadays. You are not, I believe, worse than 
 others. To sum up, I wish you to marry Miss Gordon. 
 Does that satisfy you ?" 
 
 "Perfectly, sir. Now, you will pardon me for not re 
 plying to your question before. I wished to be certain that 
 you, at least, were favorably disposed towards me, not 
 prejudiced in favor of another." 
 
 "You speak as though you had some definite knowl 
 edge of this other party. Are you positive that he really 
 exists, and is not a phantom conjured up by your natural 
 jealousy ?" 
 
 "A pretty substantial phantom, sir; do you wish his 
 name?" 
 
 "Name him, by all means; I would become better ac 
 quainted with the gentleman who aspires to Miss Gordon s 
 hand, who dares to override my wishes, and set himself up 
 as your rival." 
 
 "That s just the point, sir," exclaimed Barclay, now 
 thoroughly roused, and pacing the floor in visible ex-
 
 CONSPIRATORS. 139 
 
 citement. "Gentleman, you say beggar, or almost as 
 bad!" 
 
 "Come, come, Barclay, you are excited ; this is going too 
 far, you know. Mustn t mention beggar in the same breath 
 with the Southern Beauty. Take another drink, sir, 
 a little seltzer Straight? You know best; it can t hurt 
 you anyhow." 
 
 "His name," exclaimed Barclay, pausing long enough 
 to empty his glass, "his name is Guyon McCarty." 
 
 "You cannot be serious, Barclay. This fellow has seen 
 Miss Gordon but a very few times." 
 
 "Even those few times may have been sufficient to en 
 gender a passion in the young fellow s heart. He was 
 her partner in a dance, was seen in earnest conversation with 
 her on the veranda, the night of the ball, and he saved 
 her life at the risk of his own." 
 
 "Enough! What does all this prove? Did she, my 
 Ward, mention his name to you in such a way as to give you 
 the idea that she loved him?" 
 
 "She has not; still, I am almost certain I would that 
 I were dead certain, then I could go to any extremity to 
 rid my path of him." 
 
 "Not so fast, Barclay. Take another drink! Nothing 
 like good whiskey for clearing the mind." 
 
 "Don t care if I do, sir. It is deuced good stuff, better 
 than ours down at the Club." 
 
 "To return to our mutton, I think you will find this 
 McCarty a pretty tough customer to deal with," remarked 
 Barrington. "Now tell me how you are certain that he 
 is infatuated with Miss Gordon." 
 
 "Nothing easier, sir. I buttonholed him last night at 
 our Club. We d been having a little talk about women 
 over our wine, and I found him so thoroughly proper and
 
 140 A GENTLEMAN BORN. 
 
 moral regarding them, that I judged he had met his 
 ideal." 
 
 "His ideal ha, ha! The McCarty ideal, that is 
 rich!" 
 
 "Exactly; when I got him into conversation, I found 
 that he had been in concealment near the spot where Miss 
 Gordon and myself had our little talk on that eventful 
 evening. Thereupon, I confessed the whole matter, spoke 
 of how badly I had been treated and so on. You should 
 have seen his face and heard his long-drawn sigh, like the 
 air- vent to some steam boiler." 
 
 "He said nothing which would compromise himself?" 
 
 "No, sir, still, I could almost swear by those sighs that 
 he loves Miss Gordon; and the fact of his rescuing her 
 must have at least produced a favorable impression upon 
 her." 
 
 "You reason well, Plato. I wonder you do not pose as 
 a philosopher." 
 
 "Can you take all thia so coldly, sir? Think of it, this 
 low-born fellow, the son of an Irish contractor, is actually 
 going in the race with us fellows for the hand of your 
 Ward." 
 
 "Low Irish," said Perry, as though speaking to him 
 self. "What would you say if I told you that the con 
 tractor and his wife are not his parents; that he is so 
 to speak a young fellow without an origin?" 
 
 "Damn it, sir! How do you know?" exclaimed Bar 
 clay, who had resumed his promenade, which was a little 
 less steady than at first, and now paused again in front of 
 Barrington. 
 
 "How do I know? On the very best authority, although 
 I do not deem it necessary to reveal it to you." 
 
 "Without an origin ! And you will permit him to foster 
 the passion for your Ward?"
 
 CONSPIRATORS. 141 
 
 "And you, George Barclay, will you allow him to be your 
 rival?" exclaimed Perry, turning now his eyes for the 
 first time full upon the young man whom the effects of 
 the neatly prepared liquor and the conversation, had 
 wrought up to almost a frenzy of rage. 
 
 "By all the furies of Hell, I won t !" screamed Barclay. 
 "I ll shoot him at sight! I ll poison him, s help me! 
 I ll " 
 
 "No, you won t do anything of the kind. That is well 
 enough on the stage, Barclay; but it won t go here in 
 our respectable society. There are other ways of getting 
 a man out of the way, if you only knew them." 
 
 "I don t care a Continental for any of them! I want 
 McCarty out of my path, the sooner the better." 
 
 "Then, sit down and be calm, my boy. I will not talk 
 to you while you are in that excited frame of mind. First 
 of all, you must promise me that no grievous injury will 
 come to the iellow. You must acknowledge that I am act 
 ing in your interest. Of course, it is no concern of 
 mine; as far as that goes, it is very easy for me to pre 
 vent him from courting my Ward. A word to her would 
 be sufficient. Still, as you judge that he is your rival, and 
 wish to put him away, let us see do you know anything 
 about his personal habits?" 
 
 "I have heard that he frequents the races, sir." 
 
 "Good ! Does he go in for women ? Not that I would 
 counsel such a course in a young man, Heaven forbid!" 
 
 "I think not. However, it is difficult to say." 
 
 "Well, I will give you one hint. Waters which are 
 on the mountains and hills seek their level, generally at 
 a pretty lively pace. This man was a child of the streets ; 
 can you imagine how his inclination will run ? Give him 
 a taste of all the pleasures you know of, take him around 
 town, visit the opium dens "
 
 142 A GENTLEMAN BORN. 
 
 "Ah, I have it, sir ! Your idea is capital. How stupid 
 in me not to have realized it !" 
 
 "Aw yes rather stupid!" said Perry, stretching his 
 arms and yawning, rather stupid! Then, when he be 
 comes acquainted with the shady side of life, he will 
 naturally drift apart from these foster-parents; they will 
 disown him. He retires from our stage, and the curtain 
 falls upon McCarty. What becomes of him after that is 
 no concern of ours." 
 
 "You are wonderful in resources, sir. I would not have 
 thought of so excellent a plan. In my mad jealous fury. 
 I might have assassinated the fellow; then there would 
 have been the Devil to pay in the courts, scandal and all 
 that. Now, I am relieved of him in the quietest way pos 
 sible. Oh, leave it to me, sir, to hatch out the cleverest 
 scheme for ambushing this most moral and cultured gentle 
 man (?). I see it all before me now." 
 
 "Do you ? Well, I suppose you want time to think over 
 the details." 
 
 "Yes, sir, I must leave you now, if you don t mind." 
 
 "Not at all have another drink? No; well, perhaps 
 you d better not. Remember, it was in your interest that 
 I suggested this; the fellow is nothing to me." 
 
 "Surely, sir, I shall never forget your great kindness. 
 Good-night, sir." 
 
 "Ha, ha, my blooming young popinjay ! How cleverly he 
 played into my hands," thought Perry, after his guest had 
 departed. "That was a good suggestion of mine. I wonder 
 what will finally become of the young Beaumont? I don t 
 want his death laid at my door but if Barclay s scheme 
 doesn t succeed, damn it, we ll have to try some stronger 
 measures. He must not, he shall not cross my path 
 again !"
 
 COUNTERPLOT. 143 
 
 CHAPTER XVII. 
 
 COUNTERPLOT. 
 
 THAT same evening, Guyon was entertaining his friend 
 Harold at the McCarty home, owing to a strong hint to 
 this purpose which his foster-mother had given him. 
 
 They were all chatting together in the cozy reception- 
 room. The old contractor, who was longing for his ac 
 customed smoke, ever and anon interposed a remark to 
 the effect that they should adjourn to his "din"; but the 
 hostess was deaf to it all, so intent was she oil her con 
 versation with Harold, treasuring every word of society 
 gossip, which he manufactured for her special benefit, to 
 be retailed to her choice acquaintances. 
 
 At this juncture, the butler appeared at the door an 
 nouncing: "The Foreman, Mr. Biglin." 
 
 "Phwat does he want ter see me about?" asked Mr. 
 McCarty, thinking that at last an opportunity had come 
 for him to escape. 
 
 "He says as he wants ter speak ter the young gentle 
 man, sir." 
 
 "You found Pietro!" exclaimed Guyon, when he had 
 piloted Biglin into the "den," where Mr. McCarty joined 
 them for a bit of a smoke. 
 
 "Dat s jes yer cue. I got onter im, as yer s squealin 
 Guy, an I tought I d let youse know it." 
 
 "Did he tell you anything about me?" 
 
 "Jes wait till I tells youse. first, de bloke wus shy 
 o me. Maybe I ain t on de police force, but de mug tought
 
 144 A GENTLEMAN BORN. 
 
 I wns made up like one o dem detective guys ; an he sed 
 as he never know d de woman Kosa, ner nothin bout 
 >er." 
 
 "Ah!" cried Guyon with a disappointed air. 
 
 "Den, I gies im a song an dance bout youse, Guy. 
 an bout youse bein stoled frum de big blokes up town. 
 Hully gee ! youse ought er seed his mug it turned green es 
 Patrick s day in de mornin ; an e pulls out a big pig 
 sticker, an makes a me, as dough I wus a pig." 
 
 "He didn t hurt ye, now," exclaimed the old contractor, 
 starting out of his reverie among the clouds of tobacco 
 smoke. 
 
 " Urt me, nit! Never hit dis blokie. I jes gied im 
 one dat sent de sticker one way, an im de odder. Den. 
 when e picks imsel up, wot does de crazy Dago do but 
 shake an s wid me, an gie me de string dat e d do any- 
 ting I axes im, only e s out f er de plunks, see ?" 
 
 "If that is all, we can supply you liberally," replied 
 Guyon. "But are you certain that he knows anything 
 worth paying for?" 
 
 "Now, dat s de game, Guy! E mought be giein me 
 de string jes fer de plunks; den. e mought know suthin 
 an when e gits de plunks, e mought fly de coop." 
 
 "I m afraid there is nothing in it, Dad," said Guyon, 
 after a moment s reflection. "If that woman Kosa were 
 living, she would know the whole story. As to the man, 
 all that we can vouch for thus far is that he visited the 
 house; and there is only one chance out of ten that she 
 told him of my abduction." 
 
 "I m thinkin as he might be the chap as carried ye 
 off. Guy," said Mr. McCarty. 
 
 "How do you come to that conclusion, Dad?" 
 
 "Jes frum the color he turned whin Biglin confronted 
 him wid the story. Sure, he wouldn t turn green at
 
 COUNTERPLOT. 145 
 
 all, if the Lord didn t force that same swate color ter his 
 face, jes ter convict him." 
 
 "It may be so; but I doubt it." 
 
 "Youse won t be trowin up de game now!" exclaimed 
 Biglin, "jes when I has me man nailed." 
 
 "I ll give you some money, Biglin, and you may come 
 to me if you need more. Don t give him a copper until you 
 are certain he has something to give you in return. Lead 
 him on with promises, and I will back you." 
 
 "Dat s right on de level, Guy. Now I wants to ax youse 
 ef youse set yer peepers on Dimples yet?" 
 
 "No, I have not, Biglin ; but I haven t given up all hopes 
 of doing so." 
 
 "Who s this Dimples, Biglin s talkin bout ?" asked the 
 old contractor, after the young fellow had left the house 
 with a large roll of "plunks" in his possession. 
 
 "I haven t told you her story, have I, Dad ?" 
 
 "Are you gentlemen going to stay in here all night?" 
 asked Mrs. McCarty, appearing at the door of the "den." 
 
 "The Lord save us ! me smoke s inded f er ter-night now," 
 muttered the old gentleman. 
 
 "We re coming out now, Mother," replied Guyon. "We 
 have just concluded our little business matter with Big 
 lin." 
 
 "Your friend wishes to talk with you before he leaves, 
 and you had better come instantly." 
 
 "We re comin , we re comin ! Mary, sure ye needn t make 
 such a fuss about it. Now, Guy," he continued, when they 
 were sitting together once more, "phwat wus that ye wus 
 tellin me about Dimples?" 
 
 "Dimples ? Why, I never heard of such a name ! Is it 
 one of Guyon s young lady friends, Mr. Brandon?" 
 queried Mrs. McCarty, on the qui vive for something new 
 and scandalous,
 
 146 A GENTLEMAN BORN. 
 
 "Not that I know of, I assure you, Madam. I never 
 heard the name mentioned before/ 
 
 "No, you did not. I was on the point of relating her 
 history to Father when you summoned us from the smok 
 ing den," replied Guyon. 
 
 "But who is she?" persisted Mrs. McCarty. 
 
 "Who she is now, I cannot tell. All I know is that she 
 was a beautiful baby girl some fifteen years ago when 
 Biglin and myself found her one cold December night, 
 under the arches of the Brooklyn Bridge. Eecently he 
 told me that she is still alive, grown to be a beautiful 
 young lady; and is employed as a chorus girl in one of 
 our theatres." 
 
 "For goodness sakes! To think of it! What a horrid 
 creature she must be!" cried the hostess. "How strange 
 that you never mentioned the incident to us, Guyon." 
 
 "I had forgotten it myself until Biglin s conversation 
 recalled it; then it dawned upon me that I might have 
 done something to save the girl while I was brooding over 
 my own troubles." 
 
 "Don t think of it, Guy, me b y! don t think of it. 
 Sure, no good can come of it, an mavbe only harm ter 
 yeseF !" 
 
 "I think it is a foolish move myself, Guy," said Harold. 
 "The search Avhich you must institute would almost cer 
 tainly prove fruitless, for you have not the slightest clew 
 upon which to work; and the girl has probably changed 
 her name for theatrical purposes." 
 
 "It may be," replied Guyon; "still, I shall make the 
 attempt. Do you think that Mr. Barclay can help me?" 
 
 "As to that, I would not be very much surprised if 
 he could. He has the run of the theatres, and is ac 
 quainted with a number of actresses, I believe; however, 
 your experience at the Club supper the other night, must
 
 COUNTEPPLOT. 147 
 
 give you an insight into the class of women he travels 
 with." 
 
 "True," replied Guyon. "I will think over the matter. 
 Of course, I would prefer to have you as a companion in 
 my search, Hal, for I am determined to make it; and 
 I shall use any means which shall be suggested." 
 
 "That s just like 3 r ou, old fellow," said Harold, as he 
 bade his friend good-night. "You know something of the 
 man with whom you choose to associate, so there is no 
 need for me to give a further warning. How about your 
 own case ? Did Biglin tell you anything ?" 
 
 "Not much. In fact, the little he told me, had only 
 the effect of adding to my discouragement." 
 
 "Don t give up, old fellow ! If it comes to the worst, 
 remember that I shall always be your friend." 
 
 "I m certain of that, Hal; even though I should feel 
 obliged to leave these, the only parents I have ever known, 
 I am confident that you will not desert me." 
 
 "Nonsense ! This is another of your morbid ideas. Mr. 
 McCarty will never turn his back upon you so long as 
 you do nothing to lower yourself in his esteem." 
 
 "God grant that I may never come to that!" 
 
 "I cannot conceive it. Your ideals are too lofty; and 
 you have too much self-respect for that. Still, as I said 
 before, it is difficult to play with fire without being scorched. 
 Keep your weather eye upon Barclay and his chums." 
 
 "I shall, most grave mentor. Meanwhile, don t men 
 tion what you have heard concerning Dimples to any 
 one." 
 
 "Trust that to me. Your confidence has always been 
 held as sacred."
 
 148 4 GENTLEMAN BORN. 
 
 CHAPTER XVIII. 
 
 BEHIND THE SCENES. 
 
 THE next evening, Guyon went to the Club with the 
 intention of enlisting Barclay in his scheme of hunting up 
 Dimples. He found him as usual in the billiard-room, 
 just in the midst of an exciting game of pooL 
 
 "How are you, McCarty ! deuced glad you ve come !" ex 
 claimed Barclay, as Guyon sauntered up to the table. 
 
 "How s the game going?" queried Guyon. 
 
 "Oh, Bracer s dead easy ! I ve won five games from him 
 at a fiver a game; and he has staked a tenner on this. 
 Don t look as though he d make it, does it ?" 
 
 "What is your program for to-night, Mr. Barclay?" 
 asked Guyon. "Have you any engagement?" 
 
 "None whatever. My time is completely at your dis 
 posal; and, may I ask, what do you suggest by way of 
 passing the time?" 
 
 "I would like to visit some of the theatres," replied 
 Guyon, "not in the ordinary way, you know; but be 
 hind the scenes." 
 
 "Nothing would suit me better." "He s falling into 
 line charmingly!" thought Barclay, "couldn t have done 
 so well if I had used very great exertion in the matter;" 
 then aloud: "Of course I don t know your purpose in 
 visiting the opposite side of the curtain. You are on the 
 lookout for a dashing ballet girl, eh?" 
 
 "I don t know," Guyon replied with evident embarrass 
 ment. "A ballet girl or a chorus girl; where would we 
 be most likely to meet them ?" 
 
 "Ha, ha!" laughed Bracer, "where, oh, where, is the
 
 BEHIND THE SCENES. 149 
 
 chorus girl? Why, where should she shine in all the per 
 fection of her make-up, from pink tights to penciled eye 
 brows, unless at the Casino." 
 
 "Right you are, Bracer! To the Casino we ll go, if 
 Mr. McCarty has no objection." 
 
 "I have an object in wishing to meet the chorus girls, " 
 Guyon began. 
 
 "Don t mention it, old fellow," chimed in Bracer. 
 "You re on the right tack, you are. Just want to spread 
 a little more sail, and you ll go a flying." 
 
 "You misunderstand me !" Guyon began again. 
 
 "Of course he does," said Barclay. "Don t mind what 
 he says, McCarty. We aren t going to start in and quarrel 
 right here. Ah, here are the cocktails, gentlemen The 
 Casino Girls ! " 
 
 It was a short drive from the Club to the Casino., where 
 one of the light, catchy, comic operas was on the boards 
 for an unlimited run. The special attraction for some 
 being the bevy of noted actors and actresses in the caste: 
 while for others it was the number of unusually pretty 
 soubrettes and chorus girls. Guyon had witnessed the 
 play from the box, and his growing determination to find 
 some clew to Dimples, was the cause of his wishing to 
 go behind and talk with the girls personally, if that were 
 possible. 
 
 "Here we are at the stage entrance!" exclaimed Bar 
 clay. "I don t know but that you d better remain out 
 side, Bracer; you might get knocked on the head by a 
 stray piece of scenery, or by one of the assistant stage 
 managers for making too free with the lasses." 
 
 "See here, they know me about as well as they know 
 you, Barclay. I travel on my own cards, not on yours, 
 do you understand?" 
 
 "All right! hustle for yourself, and don t ask me to
 
 150 A GENTLEMAN BORN. 
 
 assist you, if you get into trouble. Look sharp how you 
 step, McCarty, it s a trifle dark/ 
 
 Entering the stage door, Guyon beheld what seemed to 
 be flight after flight of iron stairways, the monotony re 
 lieved at intervals with lumber of various descriptions 
 piled against the walls. In narrow passages were curious 
 old boxes filled apparently with rubbish; there, too, were 
 dilapidated parts of scenes which had outlived their use 
 fulness, a trunk, a couple of bottomless chairs, and prop 
 erty of a like category. 
 
 " When you awake things are not what they seem, " 
 
 sang Barclay. "A trifle different from what you antici 
 pated, eh?" 
 
 "Yes, very much. What is that place partitioned off 
 from the rest? It looks like a large room?" 
 
 "Listen! did you hear anything?" 
 
 Sounds of girlish voices and laughter just then came 
 to their ears. 
 
 "Yes ; is it a dressing-room ?" 
 
 "For the chorus girls. No admittance, you know ! We 
 shall see them later up Btairs." 
 
 "What is this room for?" queried Guyon, as they 
 passed a small apartment redolent with tobacco smoke, the 
 furniture consisting of several shaky chairs, and a few 
 broken music racks, while violin and cello cases were seen 
 in a corner. 
 
 "It s the musicians retiring room. There is the little 
 door through which you have many a time watched them 
 make their appearance in the orchestra." 
 
 "They are out now, we have not much time before the 
 curtain rises." 
 
 "Where is Bracer?" asked Barclay, who was evidently 
 annoyed.
 
 BEHIND THE SCENES. 151 
 
 "I thought he had followed us into the room." 
 
 "No, no ! he is not interested in such antiquated places. 
 By Jove, they are going up stairs!" 
 
 "Who?" 
 
 "Who would be going up but the chorus girls? The 
 dressing-rooms for the men are on this floor, while the 
 principal actors and actresses have their rooms immediately 
 off from the stage." 
 
 Emerging from the musicians room, they found that 
 the scene on the stairway had changed as if by magic. 
 Ascending in groups of two or singly, went the gay 
 assemblage, which was to grace the Court of a Grecian 
 princess. Very lightly clad they were, as became damsels 
 of the Eastern clime ; but the cold draughts of wind pene 
 trating the hallwa} r s, only caused these warm youngsters 
 to skip a little more lively, laughing still and chattering 
 like so many magpies. 
 
 "Come on, Mac, you can get a better look at them on 
 the stage before the curtain rises." 
 
 "So this is the Casino stage !" exclaimed Guyon, finally 
 arriving at the end of the stairways, and looking out from 
 the small space remaining after the "settings" had been 
 adjusted. 
 
 "Yes. Be careful how you roam about ! here to your left 
 are the exclusive dressing-rooms. You may get a peep 
 into some of them later on, if we have good luck. Hello, 
 James !" he cried addressing one of the assistant stage 
 managers. "This is my friend, Mr. McCarty, he wants 
 to have a look at things behind. It s all right, I ve seen 
 Mr. ." 
 
 "Go right ahead, sir! Not much time, just half a 
 minute before she goes up. Step this way, Mr. McCarty. 
 Now you re on the stage. There are the painted beauties
 
 152 A GENTLEMAN BORN. 
 
 you fellows are raving over! Step up close to them and 
 give me your opinion." 
 
 "I prefer not," replied Guyon. "I can see them very 
 well from here. Who is that beautiful girl standing al 
 most alone over to the right?" 
 
 "That one oh, she s a dandy! Beg your pardon, 
 sir, just step aside stand there, that s right All together ! 
 Don t hold your basket so stiff, May ! Let her go !" 
 
 And Guyon stepped into the wings as the curtain rose. 
 
 "Well, what do think of it all, Mac?" asked Barclay, 
 coming up to where Guyon was standing, taking in the 
 different points of interest. 
 
 "It is certainly a strange sight. One is completely 
 disillusioned in coming here." 
 
 "Oh, yes, of course ; but there is more than bare boards 
 and the mechanical contrivances to interest us. We are 
 at liberty now to look into these dressing-rooms, while the 
 occupants are on the stage, unless you prefer to witness 
 the play." 
 
 "No, let us see the rooms." 
 
 "This is the room of the leading lady. The door is 
 dosed; doubtless, her maid is within, so we ll not disturb 
 her. The one adjoining is appropriated by the lady next 
 in rank; you will notice that the fixing up is not so bad 
 on the whole. The next belongs to the leading actor, a 
 marked difference from the one we just peeped into." 
 
 "I should say so!" replied Guyon, as he noticed the 
 dingy appearance of the small apartment, which scarcely 
 merited the name of room. One chair, a trunk and a 
 dressing-table over which hung a small mirror, completed 
 the inventory of the furniture. Various articles indispen- 
 sible to a comedian were scattered about the place, while 
 on the dresser were boxes of grease-paint, rouge and 
 powder.
 
 BEHIND THE SCENES. 153 
 
 "The girls are coming off, and will hang about here or 
 in the flies until they are called on again," said Barclay, 
 "I will introduce you to a few, if you wish." 
 
 "Nothing would please me better. Where is Bracer?" 
 
 "Haven t the least idea. He is able to take care of him 
 self, he says ; so don t worry about him. Here are the dear 
 girls now ! Ah, there, Dollie ! Your voice is in good 
 trim, Lottie!" 
 
 "Oh, Mr. Barclay !" cried a bevy of girls now encircling 
 that popular young gentleman. "Do you know, Daisy 
 almost broke down in her part, and Mr. James is awfully 
 angry !" 
 
 "Say, Mr. Barclay," exclaimed another, "when are you 
 going to take us to feed ?" 
 
 "To-night, maybe. Where is Daisy?" 
 
 "Daisy ? Oh, she came off with us ! There she is talk 
 ing with Mr. Bracer." 
 
 "Curse Bracer!" muttered Barclay. 
 
 "Will you people make less noise over there?" said the 
 stage manager in no pleasant tones. At which the general 
 conversation subsided into a subdued whisper. A moment 
 later Daisy came up to the group. Attired in tights over 
 which was carelessly thrown a loose gauze drapery, her 
 neat, trim figure showed in all the beauty of outline. She 
 was a decided blonde, with large, blue eyes, sparkling with 
 fun and merriment. 
 
 "Good evening, Mr. Barclay," she said, holding out her 
 hand as though she were meeting a casual acquaintance. 
 At this, a general snicker arose from the chorus girls. 
 
 "What were you doing over there with Bracer ?" queried 
 Barclay in an undertone. "Didn t I tell you to be on 
 hand to meet a particular friend of mine if he should be 
 here?"
 
 154 ^ GENTLEMAN BORN. 
 
 "Am I not to speak to a gentleman when he addresses 
 me? You are too absurb, Barclay." 
 
 "We ll see about that later. Mind you appear at your 
 best before this gentleman." 
 
 "You shall be obeyed, master," she replied in a tone 
 which displayed some spirit beneath the submissive ex 
 terior. 
 
 "Mr. McCarty," said Barclay, bringing Daisy over to 
 where Guyon was standing, taking in the by-play between 
 these two people and wondering what it all meant. "I 
 want you to know this charming young lady, Miss Daisy 
 Dimples." 
 
 "Daisy Dimples ! Great Heaven !" thought Guyon, "for 
 once fortune has favored me. The name is the same; 
 but can I ever imagine the little tot I rescued fifteen 
 years ago to have matured into so beautiful a young 
 lady?" 
 
 "What s the trouble, Mr. McCarty; don t you like my 
 make-up, or are you so enchanted that you have lost the 
 power of speech?" said the bold miss. 
 
 "I beg your pardon, I was thinking of a strange coin 
 cidence in the name. Certainly, I am pleased to know 
 you, Miss did I catch the name correctly?" 
 
 "Daisy Dimples is my name, on the stage and off, sir." 
 
 "S hush!" came again from the manager. 
 
 "I ll leave you two for a moment. Don t talk him to 
 death, Daisy. I want to have a word with Bracer." 
 
 "Please don t hurt him, Barclay, he really didn t mean 
 anything," was Daisy s parting appeal. 
 
 "I suppose you have been on the stage some time?" re 
 marked Guyon, for want of something better to say. 
 
 "Do I look it? Nit I ain t so old! Say, I m only 
 sweet sixteen and I ain t stringing you either." 
 
 "Sixteen! yes, she must be the very same," thought
 
 BEHIND THE SCENES. 155 
 
 Guyon. Then aloud: "Mr. Barclay introduced you to 
 me, because I had told him that I wished to know a chorus 
 
 girl." 
 
 "How kind of you !" replied Daisy, favoring Guyon with 
 one of her sweetest smiles. "Gee, but he s heaps hand 
 somer than Barclay ; I wonder if he s rich !" 
 
 "I had a reason in wishing to know a chorus girl," con 
 tinued Guyon. 
 
 "Doubtless," Daisy replied, lowering her eyes. "You 
 swell chaps generally do." 
 
 "Don t misunderstand me, Miss Dimples. Look at me 
 closely. Can t you recall having seen me before?" 
 
 "Seen you before? Nit, never! If I did, I d know 
 it. Yours ain t a face to pass out of a gal s mind quick, 
 sir." 
 
 "I wish to Heaven your words were true ! But, tell me, 
 do you remember anything of your early years, when you 
 lived in Cherry Street?" 
 
 "What re you giving me now? Who s been telling you 
 that fairy tale? Nit, sir, I never lived there. There 
 is some mistake," exclaimed Daisy, her clear complexion 
 flushing a deep crimson, and her eyes fairly dancing with 
 excitement. 
 
 "Do you mean to say that you are not the little girl who 
 lived with the old apple woman, Mrs. O Shaughnessy ? Can 
 you forget a lad down there named Biglin ?" 
 
 "You ve got me now, sir," cried Daisy, breaking down. 
 "You ve got me. I never thought it would all come up 
 again. I didn t think any one would remember me when 
 I came up here. Poor old Shaughnessy, and Swipsie!" 
 and for a moment, it seemed as though the better side of 
 the girl s nature was touched; then, with a change as 
 sudden as the approach of an April shower, she looked 
 at Guyon with a haughty air and a glance of defiance was
 
 156 A GENTLEMAN BORN. 
 
 in her eye. "Well, what of it ? What s it all to you, I d 
 like to know?" 
 
 "Very much, if you will hear all that I have to say." 
 
 "Haven t time now must go on in a minute; besides, 
 there is Barclay watching us." 
 
 "Where can I see you?" exclaimed Guyon, fearing lest 
 the golden opportunity of reclaiming Dimples was elud 
 ing his grasp. 
 
 "Do you really want to see me privately?" 
 
 "Yes, there is something I wish to say to you which con 
 cerns you deeply." 
 
 "If you are in earnest ahout it, you may come no, you 
 can t either, it wouldn t do, I must go on now. S long, 
 Mr. McCarty. I ll think over what you ve said, and maybe 
 I ll let you know later where you can meet me to-morrow ; 
 and mind, don t say a word to Mr. Barclay about this." 
 
 One act succeeded another with interruptions of about 
 ten minutes, during which Guyon found no opportunity 
 of conversing with Dimples alone. In fact, she seemed 
 to avoid him, mingling in the throng with the other girls, 
 or chatting aside with Barclay. Apparently their conver 
 sation was of a serious nature, for often the louder sounds 
 from their direction called forth a rebuke from the omni 
 present manager. 
 
 Then, too, Guyon had occasion to note many points 
 about the stage, how the scenes were taken off or 
 shifted to one side instead of being raised above or low 
 ered beneath the stage, this being necessitated by the limi 
 tations of space, and by the fact that the stage of the 
 roof-garden was immediately above. 
 
 At the conclusion, while they were waiting for the girls 
 to reappear from their dressing-rooms, Barclay sounded 
 Guyon as to the impression Dimples had produced upon 
 him.
 
 BEHIND THE SCENES. 157 
 
 "Daisy is straight goods, now, isn t she?" 
 
 "She seems to be a fair specimen of her class. Are you 
 well acquainted with her?" 
 
 "Yes, pretty well. She is a strange girl; but I want 
 you to know her better. Are you satisfied with your ex 
 perience to-night?" 
 
 "Not quite," was the rejoinder. 
 
 "Oh, that means that you desire more! Well, I have 
 arranged a little supper party. Daisy will ask two of her 
 friends, and we three men will take care of them. Is it 
 agreeable ?" 
 
 "Perfectly," replied Guyon, reasoning that he must find 
 an opportunity some time during the night for hearing 
 Dimples decision. 
 
 "Here they are !" exclaimed Barclay, as the young ladies 
 made their appearance at the entrance while Bracer, who 
 had "chased himself" across the street to alleviate his thirst, 
 showed up at almost the same moment. 
 
 "Miss Dolly Bragg, and Miss Lottie Blossom, this is Mr. 
 McCarty," said Dimples, bringing up her two bosom chums. 
 "Where are we going, Mr. Barclay ?" 
 
 "Say, fellows, I know of a dandy place not far away," 
 chimed in Bracer, "where we can get a room for our 
 selves, everything in bon-ton style, as good as Sherry s 
 only we can have more fun in this place." 
 
 "Why riot say Sherry s?" asked Guyon. 
 
 "What do you say, girls?" queried Barclay. "We put 
 it to a vote Sherry s or the other place?" 
 
 "Can we have wine and anything we want there ?" asked 
 Dollie and Lottie in one breath. 
 
 "Cert ! Nothing strait-laced about it either." 
 
 "It s a go. What s the use of wasting time talking about 
 it?" broke in Dimples. "We re out for fun to-night, ain t 
 we, Mr. McCarty? No, I mayn t walk with you; Dollie
 
 ]58 A GENTLEMAN BORN. 
 
 is lots nicer than I; and, Lottie, you pair off with Bracer 
 Mr. Bracer, I mean." 
 
 In this formation of line, the jolly couples (I say jolly 
 for even Guy on was soon entering into the sport of the 
 thing under the unresisting guidance of his pretty partner) 
 strolled down Broadway. 
 
 It was the time when all the theatres are sending forth 
 the great masses of humanity. A time when the "call- 
 man" is shouting in his loudest strains, almost bursting 
 his lungs in his efforts to attract the attention of the sleep 
 ing Jehu on the coach box. A time when coaches, hansoms, 
 and coupes are seemingly tangled up in an impenetrable 
 mass in which the policeman figures with little success 
 until, by some untold means, the tangle rights itself 
 of its own accord. And the cable cars ! standing there like 
 so many inoffensive creatures, meek and tame looking, 
 with only an occasional clang! clang! bang! bang! by 
 way of protest to the slowly moving populace, bidding 
 them "hurry up." Bless your soul, how they hurry, these 
 easy-going pedestrians! No need of a second invitation. 
 "All aboard, move up in front, plenty of room! Move 
 quickly, madam," to some aged dame who can scarcely 
 totter along. Then, the meek creature starts without a 
 warning, and the crowd of theatre-goers just crossing 
 Broadway, rushes back only to be met by another meek-look 
 ing car bound south, and to be finally pulled out of the 
 danger by the ubiquitous policeman. So they come, and 
 so they go; and the greatest artery of the metropolis is 
 beginning to thrill and throb with life. 
 
 "I want you to be bright and fascinating at the supper," 
 said Barclay to Dimples as they were making their way 
 down the crowded thoroughfare. "I wish you to interest 
 Mr. McCarty, you understand ?" 
 
 "And gain your jealousy for my pains? I saw the
 
 BEHIND THE SCENES. 159 
 
 way you looked at us when I was talking to him between 
 the acts/ 
 
 Bosh ! Bo as I tell you. I have an object in it that 
 is sufficient." 
 
 "Very well, only don t blame me for anything that hap 
 pens. If I like him better than you, and he has lots of 
 dough " 
 
 "Oh, he s rich enough as far as that goes." 
 
 "Are you tired of me, Barclay ?" whispered the girl with 
 just a touch of tenderness in her tone. 
 
 Tired ? ]^o, hush ! Here we are at the place, I guess. 
 At least, Bracer and the others are stopping. Kemember 
 what I told you !" 
 
 They had crossed Broadway, and were proceeding east 
 down a side street, when the halt was called by Bracer and 
 Lottie, who were in the advance. 
 
 "You recognize the place now, Barclay?" said the self- 
 constituted guide. 
 
 "Certainly ! Do you think I was ignorant of where you 
 were taking us? It s all right." 
 
 Entering the brilliantly lighted cafe, they passed by 
 several large rooms fitted up in exquisite taste, from which 
 came sounds of revelry, laughter, and the clinking of 
 glasses, telling that the reign of mirth and pleasure had 
 begun. Finally, Bracer, who seemed to know every nook 
 and corner of the place, opened a door at the end of the 
 long corridor, displaying a room of smaller proportions 
 than the others. A flood of light from a large chan 
 delier, bristling with incandescent bulbs, which was sus 
 pended from the ceiling over a table which would com 
 fortably seat six, gave the room a glow of genuine 
 hospitality; while the American Beauties on the table 
 produced a pleasing effect. 
 
 "You people make yourselves at home," said Barclay. "I
 
 160 A GENTLEMAN BORN. 
 
 shall seek mine host and make arrangements touching our 
 entertainment." 
 
 Coats and wrappings being laid aside, the gay party en 
 tered into the spirit of the occasion. The girls chatting 
 about the fellows they had seen in the audience that night, 
 and the presents they expected to receive, Bracer inci 
 dentally twitting them upon their conquests and throwing 
 in many a silly compliment; while Guyon assumed the 
 part of a spectator, listening to the conversation, and looking 
 anxiously for the moment when he might have a word with 
 Dimples; pondering in his heart whether she considered 
 him also in the light of his two companions, a gentleman 
 who sought her acquaintance merely for pleasure and 
 amusement.
 
 AFTER THE PLAT. 161 
 
 CHAPTER XIX. 
 
 AFTER THE PLAY. 
 
 "TAKE your places, lads and lassies all, the refreshment 
 will be served instantly if you aren t too slow in giving 
 your orders. For my part, I have anticipated the wishes 
 of the majority and procured a couple of pieces of music 
 from the orchestra by special arrangement how about 
 it?" 
 
 "Glorious! Just the thing! Perfectly grand! Bar 
 clay, you re a darling," cried the girls in a chorus. 
 
 "Don t be too sure of that until you get away from here," 
 remarked Barclay. 
 
 "No, girls, don t be too sure of anything," said 
 Dimples. 
 
 "Give your orders, quickly! we don t want much, just 
 a bite, I think. You know, we are going to see the town 
 to-night." 
 
 "Are we ?" asked Dollie. "How jolly ! Say, can we have 
 some blue points ? 
 
 "And lobster?" chimed in Lottie. 
 
 "Live or cooked ?" asked Guyon. 
 
 "Both live-broiled," said Bracer, "and a cold bottle 
 or two, with a cocktail for a starter ; eh, Barclay !" 
 
 "Whatever you wish. You have your order, waiter, hurry 
 the service, the quicker the better." 
 
 And in anticipation of a goodly "tip" the gentleman of 
 color grinned from ear to ear, as he literally flew from 
 place to place, if you can imagine a colored waiter flying ;
 
 162 A GENTLEMAN BORN. 
 
 until the "Manhattans" being imbibed, and the half shells 
 despoiled of their luscious morsels, the merry sextet settled 
 down to lobster and champagne. 
 
 "Isn t it just lovely?" remarked Dollie, posing a bit of 
 lobster daintily on a fork, and displaying a pretty little 
 hand. 
 
 "Jolly, I call it," remarked Dimples. "Have a bit from 
 my fork, Mr. McCarty?" 
 
 "Let s have a song, Daisy!" cried Bracer, who was just 
 recovering from an extra large piece of lobster which he 
 had surreptitiously taken from Lottie s plate, and like 
 wise from a sounding box on the ear which he had re 
 ceived for the theft. 
 
 "A song in praise of wine ! Fill up the glasses, waiter ; 
 you re too slow for this here crowd !" 
 
 "Where are the musicians?" asked Dimples. "Am I to 
 sing without an accompaniment? That s a go!" 
 
 "They will be here in a moment," Barclay replied as he 
 touched the electric button. 
 
 "Talking of Daisy singing, reminds me of the incident 
 which occurred to-night," said Dollie. 
 
 "Hush, not a word!" cried Dimples. 
 
 "Oh, the boys must hear it!" 
 
 "Yes, indeed, we must and will," exclaimed Barclay. 
 
 "Well, you remember my telling you about Daisy s being 
 called down by the manager during the first act?" said 
 Dollie. "Say, I wouldn t have had it happen to me for 
 anything. There we were, singing away in the opening 
 chorus, when a voice came from the gallery it was just 
 Dimples it said; and we all looked up there and saw the 
 oddest fellow you ever set your eyes on; a regular Bowery 
 tough, and he was waving his handkerchief at us and 
 Daisy." 
 
 "What did Miss Dimples do?" asked Guyon, knowing
 
 AFTER THE PLA Y. 163 
 
 well who the "Bowery tough" was, and desirous of learn 
 ing what impression Biglin s presence had produced upon 
 the girl. 
 
 "You are too fresh, Dollie. You might have kept that 
 to yourself," exclaimed Dimples. 
 
 "Gee whiz ! you wouldn t mind my telling it, if it had 
 been a swell chap in one of the boxes." 
 
 "Maybe I wouldn t, that s different. To think of the 
 impertinence of the fellow ! Of course he didn t know me ; 
 got my name from the program, I suppose." 
 
 "You didn t look as though he wasn t acquainted with 
 you. Why, Mr. Barclay, she just turned red and then 
 white " 
 
 "And then blue !" chimed in Bracer. 
 
 Bet your life she felt blue when the manager spoke 
 to her for not singing," cried Lottie. 
 
 "It was all because of her chagrin at having the atten 
 tion of the audience diverted from her to the gallery. I 
 can imagine just how she felt," said Guy on, coming to the 
 rescue, when Dimples was about to leave the table in a fit 
 of indignant rage. 
 
 "Thank you, Mr. McCarty. You are a gentleman any 
 way, though I don t know much about you." 
 
 "You shall know more of me later," he whispered. 
 
 "Now for the song!" cried Bracer. 
 
 "I shan t sing to-night, after what you all have said 
 about me !" exclaimed Dimples. 
 
 "Not if I ask you?" queried Guy on. 
 
 "Oh, that s different, sir. Do you really wish it?" 
 
 "Yes, please." 
 
 "Here are the musicians. Are you ready ? Your glasses, 
 ladies and gentlemen !" 
 
 And Dimples sang in a fair soprano voice, the others 
 joining in the chorus :
 
 164 A GENTLEMAN BORN. 
 
 "In the heart of this goblet fragile, 
 How the frolicsome bubbles play, 
 From the depths of its fragrant bosom, 
 There arises a rich bouquet; 
 That lovingly wreaths its aroma 
 Your passionate senses around, 
 Till you live in a world enchanted, 
 Where golden wing d visions abound. 
 
 Let s drink! Let s drink! Ah! 
 
 "See how it sparkles, this drink divine, 
 But all its lustre, your eyes outshine! 
 See how it sparkles, this drink divine, 
 But all its lustre, your eyes outshine!" 
 
 When the last words of the chorus died away, the echoes 
 of the jolly song seemed to linger, thrilling all hearts with 
 joyous mirth. Then Bracer volunteered to sing "Don 
 Jose" from the "Serenade," and his tenor, although some 
 what affected by his many libations to the Goddess of 
 Beauty, was fairly good, the lads and lassies joining lustily 
 in the rollicking chorus of 
 
 "That for love! Piff! Paff! 
 Let her go, Piff! Paff! 
 Tis only one more village belle, 
 Love s a bore! Piff! Paff! 
 I ve girls galore, Piff! Paff! 
 My motto s ever, Vive la Bagatelle." 
 
 After which, the girls sang together a pretty chorus from 
 the "Jolly Musketeer." 
 
 "Say, we re a pretty good crowd, take it all in all, ain t 
 we?" said Barclay. 
 
 "Jolly, I should say," replied Lottie, puffing a whiff from 
 a dainty cigarette; "and a right jolly time we can have 
 when we start in. Talking of good times, you fellows ain t
 
 AFTER THE PLAT. 165 
 
 in it. You should have been with us out at Frisco last 
 year." 
 
 "Don t, Lottie!" cried Dollie. "For Heaven s sake, 
 don t give us away like that." 
 
 "Give away nothing! What was there so awful in it 
 anyway ?" 
 
 "By Jove, let s have it, Lottie! I ll give you a kiss if 
 you tell it," exclaimed Bracer. 
 
 "I think it would be the other way if I was giving 
 kisses, sir," said the girl with a saucy toss of her head. 
 
 "Anyhow, we went out one night, after the show, with 
 some chaps, to see the sights ; and where do you think they 
 took us?" 
 
 * jtfot to Chinatown?" ventured Guyon. 
 
 "Hit it on first, sir. Yes, indeedy, they took us to 
 Chinatown." 
 
 "Now for a story of the spicy kind. Fill up again, 
 waiter!" cried Barclay. 
 
 "It may be spicy enough to hear the recital; but it 
 wasn t so great for those who took part in it, was it, 
 Dollie?" 
 
 "Not by a jug-full !" 
 
 "The story; let s have it!" cried Barclay, pounding on 
 the table until the glasses danced and jingled merrily. 
 
 "Well, here goes ! As I was saying, a party of swell 
 chaps took a few of us chorus girls out after the play, to do 
 the city; and, of course, we wanted to see Chinatown; 
 every one does that in Frisco. Say, Doyer and Pell 
 Streets here aren t in it. Talk about your Joss houses, 
 and restaurants, and opium dens ! You see them wide 
 open there especially the dens. Well, we were going 
 around, and came to one of those dopey places where the 
 most beautiful girl I ever set my eyes on was lying off, hit 
 ting the pipe, and no one near her but two of the ugliest
 
 166 A GENTLEMAN BORN. 
 
 Chinamen. She didn t seem to mind them, just inhaled 
 the dope, and held out the pipe for more; and when she 
 opened her eyes, in a dazed sort of a way, she didn t seem 
 to take any notice of us, no more than if we weren t there at 
 all. Then, one of the fellows dared one of us girls to 
 hit the pipe, just to see how it felt; and, sure enough, 
 one was that silly to do it." 
 
 "Did you leave her there alone ?" asked Guyon. 
 
 "No, indeedy, not on your life we didn t. We stood 
 by, and she lay on the little bunk affair they have fixed up 
 in those places, not far from the other girl. The China 
 man got the pipe ready, and she smoked it. At first her 
 color changed to a deadly greenish hue, and she was 
 frightfully sick; but she stuck to it, and little by little 
 she got under the influence, so that we thought she d 
 never come out. Such lovely dreams she had ! She was 
 leading star in one of the swellest theatres in London 
 her name was on everyone s tongue she had lovers by 
 the hundreds, Lords, and Dukes, and all that; the cost 
 liest of presents in a word she was a queen of the 
 stage !" 
 
 "You seem to know her dream pretty well," remarked 
 Barclay. 
 
 "Oh, it wasn t she ! Don t try to drag it out of her in 
 that way," said Dimples. 
 
 "My, no ! bet your life it wasn t me. Well, she came out 
 of it after a while, and we were about tired of Chinatown ; 
 so we went to a swell little place something like this, and 
 had a little supper, some wine, of course, and music; and 
 the poor girl what do you think they made her do ?" 
 
 "Not dance the Couchee-couchee ?" asked Bracer. 
 
 "Not exactly; but she did dance something almost as 
 bad, although we did try to persuade her not to. Do you 
 believe it, she was so much under the influence of the dope
 
 AFTER THE PL A T. 167 
 
 and the champagne together that she swore the next day 
 that she hadn t danced at all; but it got in the papers, 
 and we had to leave the place two days later." 
 
 "Capital, capital!" cried Barclay. "You may go down 
 as a first-class story teller. Now, on the dead level, did 
 it really happen, Lottie?" 
 
 "Ask Dollie, if you don t believe me." 
 
 "It s true, every word of it," replied the lass appealed 
 to. 
 
 "Say, can you girls give us a specimen dance here?" 
 asked Bracer. 
 
 "Not on your life !" they cried in a chorus. 
 
 "What s the good of being so childish about it? Ain t 
 we out for fun ? Come, girls, just a bit of the ballet !" 
 
 "Just a bit? What do you say, Daisy?" queried 
 Dollie. 
 
 "It s getting late if we re going anywhere; but if the 
 gentlemen want it, I suppose there is no way out of it." 
 
 "Tune up, you fellows !" cried Barclay to the musicians. 
 And the waiter, having moved the table to one side, the 
 girls did a few steps of the latest ballet. Once started, 
 with the excitement of the \vine and the music, they seemed 
 to forget that they were not on the stage, an incident which 
 was a source of much amusement to Bracer and Barclay, 
 while Guyon entered into the spirit of the fun with almost 
 as much zest as his companions, although he did not ap 
 plaud so vivaciously, nor join in their shouts of "encore, 
 encore! bravo! keep it up, girls! splendid kicking!" and 
 the like. 
 
 "Why, that s almost up to your description of the 
 Frisco dance," said Barclay, as the girls finally dropped 
 into their seats exhausted. 
 
 " Does it? That shows how much you know about it. 
 sir," replied Lottie.
 
 168 A GENTLEMAN BORN. 
 
 "I ll wager my best horse that you cannot do the Frisco 
 fandango," exclaimed Barclay. 
 
 "Wager away! it s quite safe; for neither of us know 
 it, and we wouldn t dance it if we did so, now!" said 
 Dollie. 
 
 "Isn t it time we started out?" asked Guyon, who was 
 about satiated with the indoor performance. 
 
 "One Curagoa for luck," said Bracer, "and we de 
 part." 
 
 The girls preferred coffee as a nerve tonic; and the 
 final drink having been taken and the gentlemen forti 
 fied with a cigarette apiece, the party sallied forth again 
 into the streets. 
 
 "What do you say to Chinatown, McCarty ?" asked Bar 
 clay. "You have never been down there, have you?" 
 
 "No, but it s rather late, isn t it?" 
 
 "Late for Chinatown ? That shows how little you know 
 about New York, sir," said Dimples. 
 
 "I confess that I don t know much of this phase of the 
 life," Guyon replied. 
 
 "Never too old to learn, eh, girls !" said Bracer. 
 
 "We ll walk down Broadway a bit, then hail a car. Is 
 that agreeable ?" asked Bracer. 
 
 "As you wish. Is there anything to be seen on Broad 
 way at this hour?" queried Guyon. 
 
 "Keep your eyes wide open, and maybe you ll see a 
 whole lot," replied Dollie, who had appropriated Guyon 
 as her escort, Bracer leading the way with Dimples, 
 while Barclay brought up the rear with the irrepressible 
 Lottie.
 
 WHEN THE CLOCK STRIKES TWO. 16$ 
 
 CHAPTER XX. 
 
 WHEN THE CLOCK STRIKES TWO. 
 
 "CAB, gents ! Cab ! Show you all the sights of the town, 
 take you anywhere yer wants ter go I" was the first greet 
 ing they received as they reached the great artery of the 
 Tenderloin. 
 
 Broadway at this hour was by no means deserted. True, 
 the theatres were closed, and the pleasure-seekers had ap 
 parently dispersed to their homes. But the fashionable 
 restaurants, cafes and various other resorts of more or less 
 questionable character, were in full swing. Cabs and 
 coupes dashed here and there. Cable cars came rushing 
 along, with an occasional clanging protest to the auto 
 mobiles for interfering with their high rate of speed, or 
 challenging them to a race. Here and there on the 
 corners, stood the well-known beggars, familiar figures, 
 who seem never to sleep, so constant are they at their 
 posts. Now we see a single pedestrian wending his way 
 homeward at an unsteady gait, followed at some distance 
 by a couple of seedy looking individuals, who are evidently 
 awaiting his descent into one of the dark side streets, with 
 sinister intent upon his diamond shirt-stud so temptingly 
 displayed; while an officer of the peace passes, gazing in 
 tently in an opposite direction. Again, it is a group of 
 two men a little the worse for their after-theatre supper, 
 conversing in earnest tones with a woman in flashy ap 
 parel. 
 
 "Have you known Miss Dimples long?" Guyon asked 
 of his companion.
 
 170 A GENTLEMAN BORN. 
 
 "No," replied Dollie 1 . speaking slowly, as though medi 
 tating what she should say. "I haven t known Daisy 
 long; she only came to the Company last season when 
 we returned from Frisco. Everyone took to her at once, 
 she was so young and beautiful, has so grand a figure and 
 not a bad voice. She got a posish first thing; and they 
 say she ll be in the regular caste next year." 
 
 "Humph !" said Guyon, "that s all you know about her." 
 
 "We never know much about each other off the stage, 
 sir; only Daisy does dress better than any of the girls, 
 and has lots of jewels, and " 
 
 "Your wages are not great, I suppose?" 
 
 "Great ! Well, we re not laden down with plunks on pay 
 night, 1 can tell you." 
 
 "Here s our car ; all aboard for Chinatown !" cried Bar 
 clay, as a down town cable car came suddenly to a stop at 
 his bidding, and scarcely waiting until the last of the 
 party was fairly on the step, started off again, precipi 
 tating them all in a heap on the floor; at which the 
 girls were in a high state of indignation, and Bracer was 
 for thrashing the conductor there and then. 
 
 It was a comparatively short trip to Canal Street, down 
 which they walked to Mott, where Guyon, as they pro 
 ceeded at a quick pace for a few blocks, remarked the 
 scenes he had formerly visited with Biglin. The Italian 
 quarter was now deserted save for a few dangerous looking 
 characters who prowled about, and who would have been 
 very undesirable associates for a single individual. 
 
 Further on the scene changed. Chinatown loomed up 
 with its chattering throngs, its tea-stores and restaurants 
 all well lighted and alive with groups of natives, smoking 
 their long pipes and hob-nobbing in their strange fashion. 
 Sight-seers, too, were there, ladies and gentlemen, passing
 
 WHEN THE CLOCK STRIKES TWO. 171 
 
 and repassing; and now and again a cab rattled over the 
 cobble pavement. 
 
 "Of course you want to see a restaurant and sample the 
 Chinese cooking?" said Barclay to Guyon. 
 
 "Yes, as we are here, we may as well take in all that is 
 to be seen." 
 
 "This is not onr> of the best; but it is a fair specimen 
 of its kind." 
 
 "Oh, it s a horrid place, Mr. Barclay!" exclaimed 
 Dimples, as they traversed a room on the first floor, the 
 front part of which was furnished with rough board 
 tables, at which a few sailors and women of a low appear 
 ance were sitting ; while in the rear, was the kitchen, where 
 two or three Chinese cooks presided over the seething cal 
 drons, the floor being literally covered with ashes and dirt 
 of every description. 
 
 "We will find it more comfortable on the floor above," 
 said Barclay. "Many of the Chinamen resort to this 
 place for their midnight repast, and we may see them at 
 the festal board even at this hour. It is interesting to 
 witness their manner of eating." 
 
 Sure enough, the rooms above were fairly neat, with some 
 pretence at cleanliness; and at the tables were seated 
 gentlemen and ladies, sight-seers like our gay party, eat 
 ing their chop suey with evident relish. 
 
 "Do let s have some tea, it s grand !" said Dimples. 
 
 "That s a come down from champagne !" muttered 
 Bracer; "but you can t get any here, not even water." 
 
 "Get some chop suey, John," said Barclay to the 
 Chinese waiter. While they were waiting to be served, 
 their attention was drawn to a table near-by, around which 
 eight Chinamen were seated. In the centre was a great 
 dish called Ching Sow, composed of the finest macaroni, 
 shredded chicken and onions. This was flanked with
 
 172 A GENTLEMAN BORN. 
 
 large bowls of rice, and some small curiously shaped dishes 
 in which was the sauce, a dark brown liquid very salty to 
 the taste. Each Chinaman was provided with his chop 
 sticks, and the meal proceeded in absolute silence, a purely 
 mechanical operation, it seemed, as first one, then another, 
 grabbed a morsel from the dish, dipped it into the sauce, 
 and conveyed it to his mouth. 
 
 "Let s have chop sticks !" said Dimples. "Did you ever 
 try them, Mr. McCarty ?" 
 
 "No, I have never been in a Chinese restaurant." 
 
 "That s so, I forgot ; but it s lots of fun." 
 
 It was fun indeed to the uninitiated to attempt to ?eize 
 a bit of chicken or other ingredient of the chop suey, 
 certain that he had the coveted prize, only to find that 
 his sticks were empty when he raised them to his lips. 
 
 A few moments in the restaurant proved more than 
 sufficient. Leaving this place, they made their way to 
 the Joss house, climbing what seemed to be endless flights 
 of stairs, and passing along hallways buried in Stygian 
 gloom; but when the door of the temple opened, even the 
 "dim, religious light" from the quaint lanterns, and the odor 
 of incense burning before the shrine Avere acceptable. Guyon 
 was interested in one exquisite piece of carving which the 
 custodian appraised at one thousand dollars; the walls 
 covered with Chinese characters representing petitions 
 of the faithful to the immortal Joss; bits of tapestry, 
 and the Shrine itself, a genuine specimen of Oriental 
 workmanship. 
 
 The Council Chamber, where the secret conclaves of 
 the Chinese Masonic order are held, was next inspected. 
 
 "Do let s see something interesting!" said Dollie. "It 
 seems to me, we are fooling away our time here." 
 
 "What is there more to be seen?" asked Guyon. 
 
 "There is the Chinese theatre, for one thing."
 
 WHEN THE CLOCK STRIKES TWO. 173 
 
 "Too late for that, it closes before twelve o clock," re 
 marked Barclay. 
 
 "How about an opium joint?" asked Bracer. 
 
 "I m afraid you won t see one down here," replied 
 Lottie. "The last time I came here with a party, we found 
 them all closed as tight as dungeons ; and we couldn t find 
 u, guide for love or money who would open one for us." 
 
 "That was all done for a bluff," said Barclay. "I am 
 pretty well known down here, and I ll show you the real 
 thing in operation if you wish." 
 
 "By all means," replied Guyon. 
 
 "Come along, then ; only don t make any remarks about 
 anything you see. These fellows are fearfully sus 
 picious, and an incautious word might queer the whole 
 game for us." 
 
 Descending again into the street, the party proceeded 
 along Pell Street, until Barclay stopped suddenly before 
 a building similar in appearance to the other dilapidated 
 shanties. He, leading the way with Dimples, they went 
 down some steps to the basement ; and, having knocked, an 
 old keen-eyed Chinaman appeared. A word from Barclay 
 .gained admission for his friends; but, to Guyon s dis 
 may, the door was securely locked and bolted after them. 
 A narrow passage was now traversed, the only light glim 
 mering from a lantern hung from the ceiling; then they 
 brought up suddenly before another door at which, in re 
 sponse to the summons, a yellow face appeared, scrutinizing 
 the intruders gingerly. Here again Barclay s password un 
 locked the barriers ; and a pungent odor of burning opium 
 greeted their nostrils on entering. On one side of the 
 room was a little alcove occupied by the proprietor who 
 was in the act of weighing out a charge of opium. Further 
 along was a curtain which hung over the entrance to 
 the "smoking-room," Passing thither, the odor of the
 
 174 A GENTLEMAN BORN. 
 
 opium became still stronger. The room itself was about 
 twenty feet long by ten in width. It was dimly lighted, 
 and around the sides were platforms or bunks, about two 
 feet high, covered with Chinese matting, or an ordinary 
 American mattress. 
 
 On one of the bunks were two Chinamen smoking 
 opium. Indeed, they appeared at first sight to be the only 
 occupants of the place. 
 
 "Pshaw ! It s not near so interesting as Frisco," mur 
 mured Lottie. 
 
 "You can make it more so by hitting the pipe yourself, 
 if you wish," said Bracer. "There are a number of empty 
 bunks, as you see." 
 
 "Are there no young women here at present ?" asked Bar 
 clay, addressing the proprietor. 
 
 "Me show, all lite, one, two!" explained the man of 
 few words. 
 
 In the furthermost end of the room, upon a bunk of 
 similar size and construction, lay a young girl of about 
 eighteen years, who might once have possessed a rare, 
 fascinating kind of beauty, but upon whose sallow coun 
 tenance the marks of an early vicious career were too 
 plainly set. Her eyes were partly open, still she did not 
 appear conscious of what was passing before her. One 
 arm and hand was tossed above her head, while the other 
 grasped the pipe. Near her was an older woman whose 
 continuous use of the drug had reduced her to a drivelling 
 hag. She was now completely under the influence, tossing 
 her arms and limbs about, and muttering all sorts of strange 
 and incoherent sounds. 
 
 As the party stood looking at these two specimens of hu 
 manity reduced to almost the lowest stage, the young girl 
 motioned the proprietor to give her another pipe, which 
 be proceeded to prepare in the following manner; Tak-
 
 WHEN IEE CLOCK STRIKES TWO, 175 
 
 ing a portion of opium out of the Hop Toy, he twisted the 
 mass until it assumed the shape of a pill on the end of 
 a needle. The girl eagerly grasped it in one hand, and 
 took the pipe in the other, placing her lips against the 
 end. Then she brought the bowl directly over the flame of 
 the fairy lamp which was placed at her side, holding the 
 "pill" so that it burned in the flame, at the same time 
 drawing several long inhalations, and expelling the smoke 
 through her nostrils. 
 
 "That is all there is to it," remarked Barclay. "It seems 
 simple enough, doesn t it?" 
 
 "The act itself is simple, but the effects, if this young 
 person is an example, must be, to say the least, demoraliz- 
 ing." 
 
 "That depends upon the person who smokes, and the 
 frequency of his hitting it up. Now you or I could do 
 that act without the least baneful effect." 
 
 "Do you think so?" asked Guyon. "Have you tried it 
 yourself ?" 
 
 "Many a time." 
 
 "Have you?" exclaimed Dollie. "I would never have 
 thought it." 
 
 "Hush ! the proprietor is looking at us," whispered 
 Barclay. "Yes," he said in an undertone, addressing 
 Guyon, "I have used the drug, and I can assure you, 
 there is nothing like it as a panacea for all the ills of life. 
 The sensations are most delightful. Just look at the girl 
 now ; see how she smiles in her dreams ! If she can haV 
 pleasant visions, what may not your own be." 
 
 "I think that I would like to try it just once," said 
 Guyon, feeling that in this indulgence he might obtain re 
 lief from the mental torture which he often experienced 
 
 "Nothing is easier, old fellow !" 
 
 "But I would not care to do it in this loathsome place."
 
 176 A GENTLEMAN BORN. 
 
 "Come aside just one moment. I have a secret which 
 is known to very few beside myself. You will not betray 
 my confidence?" 
 
 "I give you my word, I shall not." 
 
 "Well, I have an Oriental nook fitted up in my bachelor 
 apartments, where one may enjoy the pleasures of the 
 delicious smoke with all the luxury of an eastern prince. 
 If you care to try the thing, this place of mine is at your 
 disposal." 
 
 "You are very kind," replied Guyon; "I shall do so by 
 all means as soon as I feel the need of it." 
 
 "And I can promise you that there will be a pleasing 
 surprise awaiting you." 
 
 "Thanks! The thought of the surprise will doubtless 
 has , en my coming." 
 
 " What are you men talking about ?" asked Dimples, com 
 ing over to them. "Isn t it time we were going? The 
 girls are almost as dopy as the smokers from the fumes 
 of the opium." 
 
 "We shall proceed forthwith," replied Barclay. 
 
 Chinatown being left behind, the party again sought the 
 Broadway cable going up town. It was after two o clock 
 now; still, the streets were not by any means deserted. 
 Alighting at Herald Square, their attention was at 
 tracted by a party of young people like themselves home 
 ward bound. As they approached, Bracer recognized Nor 
 wood and another young chap, and Lottie knew the girls 
 as soubrettes with whom she was well acquainted. 
 
 "We want you people here !" cried Norwood, in unsteady 
 tones. "Been having a jolly time, and bound to wind up ! 
 What do you say to the Haymarket?" 
 
 "Not on your life !" cried Dollie. 
 
 "Then let s have a dance here on the street." 
 
 "Oh, girls!" cried Lottie to her soubrette friends,
 
 WHEN THE CLOCK STRIKES TWO. 177 
 
 "we ve had just a grand time; but you don t care to dance 
 now, do you?" 
 
 "What, here ?" exclaimed the beauties. "We re not such 
 jays as these fellers take us for !" 
 
 "Better break up and strike for home," said Barclay. 
 
 "Well, if the girls won t do anything else, I suppose it 
 must be home, sweet home/ said Bracer with an aggrieved 
 air. "only " 
 
 "Only a cup at parting!" suggested Norwood, "a glass 
 of good Pilsner beer." 
 
 "Good, and a song or two," added Barclay. 
 
 The sojourn at the cafe was not of long duration; but 
 Guyon had his word with Dimples before they left. She 
 had avoided him purposely during the night, but now as 
 they were parting, she came to him of her own accord, 
 saying: "I haven t forgotten what you asked me about 
 naming a place of meeting for to-morrow." 
 
 "Thanks, I was afraid that you had. Where shall it 
 be?" 
 
 "Barclay mustn t know anything about it. You know 
 where the Cafe is?" 
 
 "Yes," replied Guyon, aghast at the mention of the 
 place. 
 
 "Don t be shocked! Meet me there after the play, on 
 the Q. T., remember." 
 
 A chorus!" thundered Norwood. "Nothing can be 
 more appropriate than the rousing one from The Whirl 
 of the Town/ " 
 
 "Lobsters! Rarebits! Plenty of Pilsner beer! 
 Plenty of girls to help you drink the best of cheer; 
 Dark girls, blonde girls, 
 
 And never a one that s true; 
 You get them all in the Tenderloin, 
 When the clock strikes two,"
 
 178 A GENTLEMAN BORN. 
 
 CHAPTER XXI. 
 
 DAISY DIMPLES. 
 
 ALTHOUGH Daisy generally had no dearth of gentlemen 
 friends awaiting her at the stage entrance, either by spe 
 cial appointment, or by some intriguing on their own part 
 to win the smiles and fascinating glances of the gay chorus 
 girl, still there were rare exceptions to this rule, when she 
 wended her way alone to her well-appointed flat. 
 
 On the night following the extraordinary jollification, 
 mindful of her engagement with Guyon, she lingered 
 longer than usual about the dressing-room, until she was 
 fairly confident that the hangers-on would have worn out 
 their patience. 
 
 She looked prettier than usual, for she was mindful of 
 Barclay s injunction that she must appear at her best. 
 The wealth of flaxen hair was set off by a large picture 
 hat, and her costume, with a well-fitting jacket, was cer 
 tainly stunning in effect. Her complexion, too, after the 
 excitement of the performance, required no embellishment 
 to heighten its color. "Well, I guess I ll do for this once !" 
 was her comment to her reflection in the mirror, as she gave 
 the last touches to her costume, and ad justed her gloves. "I d 
 like to know what Barclay s game is, wanting me to exercise 
 my charms over this man. Can t be that he wants to trump 
 up a quarrel over me ! Heigho ! let them fight it out, if 
 they wish I ain t so madly in love with him that I can t 
 throw him over for McCarty if he wants me. I wonder if
 
 DAISY DIMPLES. 179 
 
 he s as rich as they say? I m afraid he isn t the kind of 
 stuff to fall in love with a lass like me." 
 
 With her thoughts on this or a similar strain, Dimples 
 emerged from the stage entrance. The mass of theatre 
 goers had greatly thinned out now. Only a few stragglers 
 hung around, with no apparent object saving that which 
 idlers usually have, of watching for something of interest 
 to turn up. And that indeed did appear in Dimples. She 
 was conscious of attracting an unusual amount of admira 
 tion in the way of rude staring ; so she hurried on, and was 
 just blessing her stars that she had escaped without being 
 spoken to, when she felt a touch at her elbow. Turning, 
 she beheld a strange woman whom she had often noticed 
 at the theatre, andof whom she had spoken to Barclay on the 
 previous night. 
 
 "What do you want ? You have given me such a fright," 
 she exclaimed. 
 
 "I beg your pardon, Miss," replied the woman. "I just 
 want to have a word with you." 
 
 * I have no time now. Have an engagement you can 
 see me here any other night. What can she want any 
 how?" thought Dimples. "She is no beggar, judging by 
 her apparel." 
 
 "If you knew the weight of sadness on my heart, you 
 would listen to me," said the other, still walking at Dimples 
 side. 
 
 "What have I to do with that ? Do you want money ? I 
 can help you in that way." 
 
 "No, child, it s not money ! Do I look like a beggar ?" 
 
 "Oh, dear no ! of course not ; only I can t see what else 
 would cause you to accost me in this way." 
 
 "You cannot, no; for you do not know the feelings of 
 a mother s heart. Have you a mother ?" 
 
 "Ha ! ha ! that i a question.. Yes, I suppose I had one
 
 180 A GENTLEMAN BORN. 
 
 at one time or another. Don t know anything about 
 her." 
 
 And your father?" 
 
 "Don t know that I ever had any, although that must 
 be also probable. Why do you ask the question ?" 
 
 "Listen for a moment, and let me have a good look at you 
 here in the light." 
 
 "Don t stop here! we are attracting the attention of 
 these people. I am well known in this vicinity." 
 
 "An actress?" 
 
 "A chorus girl." 
 
 "Well, it s all the same in the long run. I was an actress 
 myself once. That is the reason I come around here at 
 night when I can t stand it any longer at home. I come 
 to see you young girls coming out from the stage entrance, 
 just as I used to, when I was as gay and sprightly as any 
 of you." 
 
 "I don t see how that concerns me," said Dimples, be 
 coming tired of this woman s company, and yet strangely 
 drawn towards her. Much as she longed to "shake her," 
 there was some mysterious power which held her as though 
 under a spell. 
 
 "Of course you can t until I explain. I had a child 
 once, a beautiful baby girl; and I was forced to abandon 
 her, give her up to what I thought a certain death on the 
 streets. Since that time, my life has been a burden to 
 me. Often I have been on the verge of terminating my 
 existence ; only that sweet, innocent face of my child would 
 loom up between me and my darkest thoughts, until one 
 night I had fully decided to carry out my plan, and came 
 down here to catch a glimpse of the old scenes the last 
 that my eyes would gaze upon ; for I had a vial of poison in 
 my pocket. Then, among the other girls who came out. 
 I saw you. Your beautiful face attracted me at once.
 
 DAISY DIMPLES. 181 
 
 You are the image of my own poor self as I was in my gin- 
 hood day s, only much more beautiful. You saved my life ! It 
 dawned upon me that perhaps you might be my own, my 
 lost one; and I made inquiries about you, with no result. 
 Tben I resolved to speak to you, and learn from your lips 
 if you remember anything of your infancy." 
 
 "Your tale is strange, it cannot be true!" exclaimed 
 Dimples, her interest aroused, and her pride at the same 
 time rebelling. "No, I don t remember my mother at 
 all. You must be mistaken." 
 
 " Ah, no ! It cannot be ! Your eyes are mine, and your 
 forehead; but your mouth yes, it is his!" 
 
 Whose?" queried Dimples. 
 
 "That I cannot tell you now. There was a mark upon 
 your limb by which I could surely identify you." 
 
 "Are you certain of that?" Dimples asked, being con 
 scious of the selfsame mark. 
 
 "Positive." 
 
 "Well, here is my card. Come to my apartments to 
 morrow No, let me see, this is Thursday make it Mon 
 day afternoon." 
 
 "As long as that? Must I wait all that time?" 
 
 "Yes, or don t come at all. Suit yourself, madam. If 
 you are earnestly searching for your daughter, and 
 believe that you have discovered her in me, you can surely 
 wait that length of time when there may be a chance of 
 proving the fact in the end." 
 
 "And yourself? Are you not anxious for a mother s 
 love and a mother s care?" 
 
 "No," replied Dimples coldly. "I m not looking for 
 her. I m very well satisfied as I am, thank you." 
 
 "You are married?" ventured the woman. 
 
 "Perhaps I am. It does not concern you at present, 
 anyway. I bid you good-night."
 
 182 A GENTLEMAN BORN. 
 
 "God grant that it is not as bad as that !" cried Mildred ; 
 for the woman was no other, "God grant that my sin ha,s 
 not been visited on my child !" 
 
 But Dimples passed on in a quickened pace to the 
 
 Cafe, where Guyon awaited her, and was soon lost in the 
 crowd. 
 
 Guyon had meanwhile strolled into the cafe about eleven 
 o clock, thinking that Dimples would make her appear 
 ance in a very few moments. Although he had never been 
 in the place before, he knew it by reputation; and he 
 could not but think it strange that she should have chosen 
 this place of all others for their meeting. At first, he 
 sauntered into the main saloon, and seating himself in an 
 out-of-the-way corner, watched the merry throngs coming 
 and going. 
 
 I was fitted up in imitation of a Turkish resort, with 
 Oriental nooks on every side; while down the centre was 
 a double row of divans of similar fashion. Many colored 
 incandescent bulbs lighted the room. On the walls, in 
 strange contrast to the character of the cafe, were paint 
 ings from scriptural subjects. The first thing that Guyon 
 noticed as he entered, was the strong odor of Turkish 
 tobacco, which he found arose from the almost universal 
 custom of cigarette smoking, not only among the men, 
 but also the women. Waiters attired in Oriental costume 
 plied their trade; and, judging by the number of orders 
 they received, they did not have an idle moment. What 
 appeared singular to him was the number of women, some 
 young and pretty, who frequented the resort unaccompanied 
 by an escort. He remarked that by some unaccountable 
 means, they generally met a gentleman friend with whom 
 they conversed on familiar terms, he invariably ordering 
 cigarettes or drinks for the party. 
 
 While he was witnessing these scenes, and gradually
 
 DAISY DIMPLES. 183 
 
 arriving at a mental solution of them, the time passed by 
 and no Dimples came. He was congratulating himself 
 also upon having chosen a corner where he would not at 
 tract the attention of the damsels, when one of them ap 
 proached and seated herself at his side. 
 
 "I don t remember having seen yon here before," she 
 said. "Are you a stranger in the city?" 
 
 "No, but this is my first visit to the Cafe." 
 
 "Just to see what it s like? You are doing the town, 
 I suppose? 
 
 "No, I am waiting for some one here." 
 
 "How nice ! T wonder if I know her?" 
 
 "I scarcely think so." 
 
 "Humph! Ah do you smoke? Have you a cigar 
 ette?" 
 
 "No, but I will order some, if you wish. Will you 
 drink?" 
 
 "Bet your life ! Just a little whisker, waiter same as 
 before, you know." 
 
 "You are here every night, I suppose?" Guyon re 
 marked, determined to make the best of the situation, 
 and learn a little of the life of these people if he could. 
 
 "Cert ! Every night, rain or shine, it s the Haymarket, 
 the White Elephant, Bohemia, or one of these places, you 
 know." 
 
 "Don t you ever weary of this life?" 
 
 "Sometimes, yes; but what can a girl do? My people 
 would fall dead if they knew I was about town. They 
 are pretty well fixed down in Maine." 
 
 "How did you come here ?" Guyon asked. 
 
 "Oh, I was tired of the old place. The lads were too 
 slow there for me, town too narrow. Came to New York 
 to work. Got. a job making neckties like you gents wear. 
 Starvation wages. I liked dress and good times drifted 
 up here ! Short story, isn t it ?"
 
 184 A GENTLEMAN BORN. 
 
 "Haven t you heard from your people since you came 
 to this city?" 
 
 "At first I did. Then they lost track of me. Maybe 
 they re dead, I don t know." 
 
 "Perhaps they think you are! Don t you ever think 
 of your Mother, how good she was to you, and of how much 
 better it would be for you to be back with them again, 
 even with the slow life at home?" 
 
 "See here, sir! I ain t out to be preached at; and I 
 didn t take you for the preacher sort. Come, now ! you re 
 out for a good time, ain t you? Come along with me. 
 and let s make a night of it." 
 
 "No, I have another engagement. If I had not, I should 
 not be here to-night." 
 
 "Heigho ! it s a case of the other gal, is it ? Well, just 
 give me a plunk for good luck." 
 
 "With pleasure, good-night." 
 
 "She has a pretty face, so young," thought Guyon, "and 
 yet so deeply immersed in the sea of sin. Poor lass! 
 perhaps she is not altogether to blame. Who can fathom 
 the freaks of nature tossing her, full of life, pining for 
 fun and pleasure, in the midst of an old-fashioned farmer s 
 household? Is she to be censured for leaving it? Then, 
 too, the pity of it, there is the condition of young girls 
 earning their own livelihood in our large cities. Their wages 
 pinched and cramped. Energy and life squeezed out of 
 them by means of the lengthy hours and constant applica 
 tion surely there is something wrong! Surely deep, 
 deadly injuries are perpetrated every day by men who use 
 these poor wage-earners as a means to the acquisition of 
 wealth, heedless of the temptations to which they are ex 
 posing them, caring as little whence they come or whither 
 they go, as though they were so many beasts of burden or 
 senseless, inanimate things."
 
 IN THE CAFE. 185 
 
 CHAPTEK XXII. 
 
 IN THE CAFE. 
 
 WHILE his reverie was shaping itself in thoughts like 
 these, Guyon was unconscious that a young lady had entered 
 the cafe, and that the eyes of the men were fixed at once 
 upon the new star which had arisen in the firmament of 
 the Tenderloin, whilst the women stared, and put forth 
 their best endeavors to draw away the attention of the 
 men. At the sound of his name, he arose, to find Dimples 
 standing before him. 
 
 "Were you asleep or dreaming?" she asked, smiling at 
 him prettily. 
 
 "Neither. I was just indulging in a bit of moralizing 
 relative to the denizens of the place. You are late/ 
 
 "Yes, I was unavoidably detained. Let us go up stairs 
 there are not BO many people, and we shall not be 
 annoyed." 
 
 "Why have you selected this place?" Guyon asked, as 
 they moved out of the room. "You surely don t frequent 
 the Cafe?" 
 
 "I? Oh, dear no! But I have been here with Mr. 
 Barclay and some of the boys just to see how it looks, and 
 I wished you to see it. Say, did any of the girls speak 
 to you?" 
 
 "Yes, one of them." 
 
 "I thought they would. Any one would think you were 
 dead easy until they knew you. Then you are handsome
 
 ]86 A GENTLEMAN BORN. 
 
 and well-dressed, all that attracts the girls as a flower 
 draws the bees." 
 
 "Indeed !" 
 
 "Yes. Here is a cozy nook, a real Turkish corner, with 
 the dim light from the lanterns, and with hangings around. 
 Don t you think it is lovely up here ?" 
 
 "It s comfortable; only I wish that the colored fellov:s 
 would stop singing and twanging away at the guitar." 
 
 "That s part of the entertainment, you know do yon 
 mind if I smoke ?" 
 
 "Why, no! shall I der anything else?" 
 
 "A creme de menthe, please." 
 
 "You avoided me the other night," Guyon began, tifter 
 the cigarettes had been lighted, and the beverage had beer, 
 served. 
 
 "Do you think so? That was a part of my little plan. 
 I was afraid you would run away and miss the sport if I 
 spoke to you before." 
 
 "Why should I ? Do you think that I am of so serious a 
 temperament that I cannot enjoy genuine amusement?" 
 
 "Well," replied Dimples, "I don t know, but I really 
 thought you d like something on a higher scale better. 
 Wouldn t you?" 
 
 "I confess that I would; still I was pleased to go to 
 the full length while you were of the party." 
 
 "Gee! don t say that T couldn t believe half of it. 
 What did you want to say to me, anyhow ?" 
 
 "I wanted to tell you that I was one of the street urchins 
 who found you under the Bridge, where you had been 
 left, a little infant, about two years of age." 
 
 "You said last night it was Biglin. How you know about 
 him, I can t tell ; but when you say that you, a swell chap 
 and a rich one, too, was a street boy once, that s a string 
 for fair!"
 
 IN THE CAFE. 187 
 
 "No, it isn t. 1 think I can bring you along with me in 
 my story far enough to throw convincing light upon the tale. 
 Although I must confess that I cannot blame you for 
 doubting it. I first met Biglin Swipsie we called him 
 then on the refuse dumps, where I was picking cinders 
 and rags with other Italian children." 
 
 "But you wasn t an Italian?" 
 
 "No. I came among them in a mysterious manner which 
 I have never been able to discover. However, as I said, 
 I met Biglin there first; then I drifted into other parts 
 of the city, and lost sight of him for a few years; when 
 one night I came upon him again, and he took me with him 
 down to Cherry Street to live with his old grandmother. 
 It was there I first saw Mrs. O Shaughnessy. One night 
 we had sold our papers, and were making our way home. 
 I heard a cry coming from under the arches of the Bridge 
 where we were passing. We stopped to investigate, and 
 found you, a little baby lass, dressed in the finest linen, 
 and almost frozen to death. We took you to the old apple- 
 woman s abode, where Biglin tells me you remained until 
 the old woman died." 
 
 "No, not until she died, but until I ran away," cor 
 rected Dimples. 
 
 "Meanwhile, I was adopted by an old English dealer in 
 curiosities living on Pearl Street, and from there I came 
 to the home of Mr. McCarty, the Contractor. He sent 
 me to school, treated me as his own son and heir, sent me 
 to the University of Plarvard, and I came out the polished 
 gentleman you behold." 
 
 "Did you ever see me after you took me to Mrs. 
 O Shaughnessy s?" asked Dimples. 
 
 "Yes, I did, often; and thought there was nothing like 
 you under the sun, until I came up here and "
 
 188 A GENTLEMAN BORN. 
 
 "And when you became a fine gentleman, with all your 
 learning and swell manners, you forgot Dimples?" 
 
 "That is the truth, plain and unvarnished. I forgot 
 you as clearly as though you had not existed until Biglin 
 mentioned your name a month or so ago/ 
 
 "What is Biglin doing now? How did you happen to 
 meet him?" 
 
 "He is our foreman, a steady, good young man." 
 
 "Humph! I can t see anything so great in it all, sup 
 posing it is true! And you wanted to see me when you 
 heard that I had grown to be a pretty young girl, and was 
 in the theatre ; what of it ? What do you want of me ?" 
 
 "I am coming to that point, Dimples. Mark what I say. 
 You and I are strangely in the same condition. Both of 
 us are ignorant of our origin; while there seems to be no 
 chance of my ever discovering my own, why should I not 
 assist you, whom I once rescued, in finding yours?" 
 
 "You can t do that, sir. I don t want my parents 
 don t believe they are any good, if they are living." 
 
 "Are you satisfied in your present position ?" he asked. 
 
 "If you mean the stage, I am. Yes, I love it ; I believe 
 that the life was born in me, for it is so much a part of me 
 that I couldn t get along without it ; not that I am obliged 
 to follow it for a living." 
 
 "If you desire to continue on the stage, I may be able to 
 assist you to your advancement." 
 
 "You are very kind, still I must decline to accept your 
 offer." 
 
 "Why? may I ask." 
 
 "Because, for one reason, I have numerous friends who 
 are able to help me, if I wished to call upon them; but 
 I believe that I shall rise in the profession without any 
 outside aid." 
 
 "I can applaud that resolution. It shows a spirit of
 
 IN THE CAFE. 189 
 
 independence which is commendable. Now for the other 
 reason." 
 
 "Just light another cigarette for me thank you ! Don t 
 you enjoy the odor of Turkish tobacco?" 
 
 "Very much. You smoke like an adept." 
 
 "Do I? Well, I m fond of it. There s nothing like 
 a cigarette to tone up the nerves." 
 
 "You have not given me your second reason for refusing 
 my services." 
 
 "Well, since you will have it, mind, you have brought it 
 all upon yourself," began Dimples, taking a dainty pull 
 at the cigarette and blowing out many a tiny ring from 
 her rosy lips; "you have confessed, sir, that you banished 
 me from your mind when fortune smiled upon you. The 
 poor little girl in Cherry Street might get along as best as 
 she could, might go to the Devil for all you cared. Now, 
 you suddenly discover that I am quite the rage among 
 your swell set you offer to assist me in various ways, with 
 what object in view ? Possibly to gain some hold upon me 
 for your own ends and purposes." 
 
 "Can you think so ill of me, Miss Dimples?" 
 
 "I have no special reason for thinking good of anyone; 
 but let us drop all this bluffing! Say, Mr. McCarty, I ll 
 be your friend, if you wish." 
 
 "I ll take you at your word, Miss Dimples," replied 
 Guyon, thinking that perhaps an opportunity for helping 
 the girl might arise if he at least kept her in sight. 
 
 "You are very rich, ain t you? Almost as rich as Mr. 
 Barclay?" was the next unexpected remark. 
 
 "Perhaps so. What of it? And how do you know of 
 Mr. Barclay s wealth?" 
 
 "Oh, everyone knows that! He gives lots of presents 
 to us girls."
 
 190 A GENTLEMAN BOMH. 
 
 "Does he? I wonder if he does not expect some return 
 for his outlay/ thought Guy on. 
 
 "I bet I know what you are thinking about; you con 
 sider it strange that I should accept favors from Mr. 
 Barclay, and refuse to take them from you. Well, it s 
 different with him, see ? He thinks a great deal of me." 
 
 "You don t say so ! Now I am not going to preach to 
 you. I tried it to-night with one of those women down 
 stairs and failed utterly; only I want to say this: beware 
 of Mr. Barclay s intimate friendship and affection! No 
 good can come from it to a young girl in your position." 
 
 "Sir, have a care how you talk to me ! If I am young, 
 I am not so green as I look, and I m well able to look after 
 myself. Perhaps you would wish me to transfer my in 
 terest from Barclay to yourself; how about it?" 
 
 "I have not intimated so much; it rests with you. 
 Should you do so, however, I assure you that neither you 
 nor I would be lowered by the bond." 
 
 "You think so! Well, we shall see. It s late now; I 
 guess we d better leave the cafe will you call a hansom 
 for me?" 
 
 "With pleasure. May I see you home?" 
 
 "No, that would never do; besides, as I told you, I am 
 able to take care of myself." 
 
 "Shall I see you again, Miss Dimples?" queried Guyon, 
 when the hansom coming up at his call, he handed the 
 young actress into the vehicle and stood there a moment 
 on the curb. 
 
 " That depends upon yourself. Perhaps you will ; in fact, 
 I think it more than likely ! Good-night, Mr. McCarty." 
 
 "Good-night, Miss Dimples. Think over what I have 
 said to you; at least you will promise me that." 
 
 I never promise anything good-night !" 
 
 And the hansom rattled off, bearing Dimples to her well-
 
 AT THE CAFE. 191 
 
 furnished apartments on Central Park west. The young 
 lady s mind was busily occupied during the short drive. 
 What would be Barclay s comment upon her interview? 
 She knew well that she had only half succeeded with Mr. Mc- 
 Carty. "If I had swallowed that little burst of pride which 
 asserted itself upon the annoimcernent of his proffered ser 
 vices, perhaps it might have been different ! But one can t 
 stand everything/ she reflected. "If he had been more 
 generous in his offer, set me up in a grander establishment 
 than this, had behaved like the prince in the fairy tale, 
 then I might Heigho ! who knows I wonder if he ll 
 bother his head about me again?" 
 
 Alighting at the door of the fashionable apartment 
 house, she tripped lightly up stairs, humming a tune from 
 the opera, and opened the door to find Barclay awaiting her. 
 ensconced in an easy chair before the open grate fire in the 
 drawing-room. 
 
 "Oh, you here!" she exclaimed, throwing aside her 
 wraps leisurely. 
 
 "Yes. Sit down in your accustomed place." 
 
 "At your feet? Well, here I am," Dimples replied, 
 dropping upon a cushion on the floor, and looking up at 
 Barclay with an expression, half fun, half resignation. 
 
 "You didn t expect me, did you?" 
 
 "That is as you please, you know. I have nothing to 
 say about your coming or going." 
 
 "I have been looking over our opium outfit, and seeing 
 that everything is in proper shape. You will have a 
 visitor one of these days, you know." 
 
 "I did not know. Who is it to be, may I ask?" 
 
 "Your friend, Mr. McCarty, no less by the way, how 
 did you and he hit it together, to-night?" 
 
 "We didn t get on at all. He s a prig, I believe! I 
 don t like him much at all."
 
 192 A GENTLEMAN BORN. 
 
 "You don t ha, ha ! that is curious ! Come now, did he 
 make any pretty speeches to you ?" 
 
 "Not much! He s not that kind. Wanted to help me 
 find my parents, and when I refused his assistance, wished 
 to assist me in the theatrical business he s so slow !" 
 
 "Ye-es, he is slow, poor fellow; but you must draw 
 him out. There s lots in him if he only knew it." 
 
 "Do you really mean that he is coming here to see me ?" 
 
 "Well, not exactly. He wants to try the opium smok 
 ing; doesn t know about your being mistress of the estab 
 lishment ; that must dawn upon him gradually, you under 
 stand?" 
 
 "I see your game now, only I don t understand why 
 you want to injure him. Has he done anything to you?" 
 
 "Yes, very much, more than I can tell you; but that 
 isn t the point. Will you do all I wish in this instance ?" 
 
 "The price?" 
 
 "What do you want?" 
 
 "Oh, a great many things ! This flat is too crowded and 
 small. I want an elegant house where I can entertain my 
 friends in style. I want a magnificent turnout and 
 and I want you to promise to marry me some tima" 
 
 "Is that all? You are very modest in your demands," 
 replied Barclay, with a sarcastic ring in his voice. 
 
 "Yes; but remember you have placed a great deal in 
 my hands. I can peach upon you ! I can destroy the 
 whole plot." 
 
 "The Devil you can ! Well, I will promise anything you 
 want, only the marriage part.. You know that is impossi 
 ble; but when all my plans are completed, you shall receive 
 your reward." 
 
 So was the ambush laid to cleverly ensnare the unsus 
 pecting Guyon. And the bait for his ruin was to be no 
 other than she, the baby lass, whom he had once lescued 
 from a certain death.
 
 MBB. BRANDON ENTERTAINS. 193 
 
 CHAPTEE XXIII. 
 
 MRS. BRANDON ENTERTAINS. 
 
 TINGLE, ling-a-ling! goes the telephone bell. "Hello, 
 dere I" cries the small boy in the office of McCarty & Son. 
 "Say, Central, does yer take me fer a jay er a farmer; 
 a good little boy ! dat s a jolly ! Hello, sir, yer wants Mr. 
 McCarty; well, he s flew de coop. Bot out? Nope. De 
 young gent s in; does yer want im? Hole de string! 
 Gee, dose swell mugs does gie yer a pain in de face !" com 
 mented the young hopeful. "Guess he ll get tired a-jollyin 
 while e waits fer de young gent," he muttered. 
 
 "Mr. McCarty," said the young boy, entering the private 
 office where Guyon was sitting perusing the morning 
 paper, "dere s a feller as want s ter talk ter youse on de 
 phone." 
 
 "Why didn t you bring the message more quickly? 
 Look alive when you have anything to say here!" said 
 Guyon impatiently. 
 
 "Yes, sir." 
 
 And Guyon going into the booth in the outer office, found 
 that his chum, Harold Brandon, still held the other end 
 of the wire. "Hello, is that you, Hal ?" he asked. "Been 
 waiting five minutes ? Dreadful sorry fault of our stupid 
 office boy. Don t discharge him ? That s like you ! You 
 haven t seen me for some time? That s a fact. I ve 
 been out on the old quest, or I should say, the new one. 
 Will tell you about it when I see you. What did you 
 say? Hello, Central, hello! Now you have cut us off!
 
 194 A GENTLEMAN BORN. 
 
 No, I hadn t finished, please be a little more careful a 
 good, clear wire now! Hello, Hal! you were saying, 
 oh, the invitation ! Yes, I received it in this morning s 
 mail. It was surprise. A musical treat and dancing? 
 Don t care much about it haven t made up my mind 
 to go. Your mother is anxious to have me? That is 
 kind of her. Well, I ll drop in some time during the night, 
 can t promise when. Couldn t refuse the united appeal 
 or your good mother and yourself ! Well, good bye until to 
 night good bye !" 
 
 The regular routine of office business had gradually 
 fallen into his hands; and now his thoughts and attention 
 were soon taken up with other things until evening when, 
 after dining at home, he drove over to the Club, thinking 
 that he might perhaps meet Harold there, and learn of him 
 something more definite about the affair, and the guests 
 who would appear. Disappointed in his quest, he left 
 the place pausing only in the reading-room to say a word 
 to an acquaintance, entered his brougham, and, after a 
 short drive, alighted at the Brandon mansion about half 
 after ten. 
 
 "How charming in you not to arrive at your usually 
 late hour," exclaimed the hostess, as Guyon entered the 
 drawing-room, where only a fair sprinkling of guests were 
 assembled, their brilliant costumes enchancing the wealth 
 of decoration. 
 
 "Am I too early? I came direct from the Club. 
 Thought I might meet Harold there/ 
 
 "No, indeed ; I could not spare my boy to-night. When 
 one hasn t a daughter to help her entertain, the next best 
 thing is to have such delightfully sociable lad as Harold." 
 
 "You may well be proud of him, Mrs. Brandon. I sup 
 pose you have a great surprise for us to-night." 
 
 "What makes you think so ?"
 
 MBS. BRANDON ENTERTAINS. 195 
 
 "It s your usual way, isn t it?" 
 
 "Well, people like that sort of thing. Now, if you won t 
 
 breathe a word, we are to have Signor , the celebrated 
 
 tenor; and Mme. , the contralto soloist; then for 
 
 pianist, well you will see and hear him later." 
 
 "It will be a rare treat, Mrs. Brandon. I m more than 
 ever delighted that I have come." 
 
 "You will remain for the dance, will you not?" 
 
 "If you desire it, I cannot refuse." 
 
 "And, remember, don t run away on a trivial pretence 
 as you did from trr ball at Beaucliff." 
 
 "I don t think there will be any occasion for that." 
 
 "There is Harold now, making some wig-wag signals 
 to me from the other end of the room Oh, he wants you 
 to go over to him. You see, he is entertaining a group 
 of young ladies. I really believe that Miss Harcourt 
 is among them; you know Miss Harcourt?" 
 
 "Yes, slightly ; that is, I met her once." 
 
 "Run over, then. I will keep an eye on you during the 
 evening, and see that you do not want for partners in the 
 dance." 
 
 "You are very kind," murmured Guy on, as he moved off 
 in Harold s direction. 
 
 The group in question was not far from the piano, await 
 ing the arrival of the celebrated performer. This part of 
 the room was particularly tasteful in point of decoration. 
 Tall sentinel palms, around which were grouped many 
 smaller varieties, stood on either side of the magnificent 
 instrument. In other parts of the room, great chrysan 
 themums of the rarest kind were massed. 
 
 "You understood my signals at last," said Harold as 
 Guyon approached. 
 
 "Yes, or rather your mother interpreted the code for 
 me."
 
 196 A GENTLEMAN BORN. 
 
 "You have met Miss Harcourt?" 
 
 "Yes, but I am pleased to renew the acquaintance." 
 
 "It seems ages since I saw you in Newport, Mr. Mc- 
 Carty. Whatever have you been doing with yourself?" 
 
 "Do I look so old and careworn?" asked Guyon. 
 
 "Well, no. This is my friend, Miss Nerecote, and this, 
 Miss Rushford." 
 
 "Delighted!" murmured Guyon, acknowledging the in 
 troductions. 
 
 "See, there are the Barringtons ! I wonder if Lord Rich- 
 leigh is with them," exclaimed Miss Harcourt, while the 
 eyes of the feminine portion of the group were strained 
 in the direction, to catch a glimpse of the lordling. 
 
 "I wasn t aware of this latest addition to society," 
 Guyon remarked aside to Harold. 
 
 "If you went about more, you would keep better posted, 
 my boy." 
 
 "I have been told that before. Is it true that Barclay 
 will be here to-night ?" 
 
 "Yes, I am sorry to say, he will." 
 
 "There is Lord Richleigh, sure enough," said Miss Rush- 
 ford ; "and with Miss Gordon, too !" 
 
 Gm<on looked for the first time at the notables entering 
 the room, and saw Mr. and Mrs. Barrington and their 
 Ward, who appeared more stunning than when he had 
 seen her before. His recollection of the ball at Beaucliff, 
 and her delicate beauty set off by the exquisite costume, 
 was banished into oblivion as he gazed upon her now. 
 Her eyes were sparkling with merriment when she greeted 
 the hostess, and turned to say a word to the gentleman 
 at her side, whose appearance well supported his claim to 
 a fabulous ancestry. Tall and coimnanding in stature, 
 his finely moulded features showed to advantage in a clean 
 shaven face. He seemed fairly interested in the gathering.
 
 MRS, BRANDON ENTERTAINS. 197 
 
 but it was not difficult to see that his keenest appreciation 
 was centered in Miss Gordon. 
 
 As for the young lady herself, after the first greetings 
 were over, she moved away with her escort to where some 
 select friends were sitting. Passing Guyon s group, she 
 appeared to be intent upon some pleasantry Lord Rich- 
 leigh was uttering; for she noticed neither the gentlemen 
 nor the ladies. 
 
 "So, so! my fair lass!" murmured Miss Harcourt, 
 "you needn t give yourself such airs if you have caught 
 an English Lord." 
 
 "I wonder how long she ll keep him?" suggested Miss 
 Nerecote. 
 
 "Just as long as he pleases her, perhaps, unless his title 
 wins her heart," replied Mis Harcourt. 
 
 "You ladies are too ready to analyze the frailties of 
 your sex, I m afraid," ventured Harold. "Xow, we gen 
 tlemen stand here and make no comment whatever upon 
 the passing of the Belle unless it be to conclude that she 
 was not aware of our proximity." 
 
 "Isn t that Barclay coming in now?" queried Guyon. 
 anxious to change the subject, for he felt that his being in 
 the group had been the cause of its receiving the aforesaid 
 cut. 
 
 "That is Barclay, and he is making straight for the 
 Barrington circle. I admire his nerve," said Harold in an 
 undertone. 
 
 As Barclay passed with a smile and a word of greeting. 
 Mr. Brandon approached with a gentleman, who im 
 mediately seated himself at the piano; and, waiting a mo 
 ment or two in expectation of a lull in the conversation 
 which was buzzing throughout the room, touched the keys 
 just a few opening bars that displayed the action of 
 no mediocre performer. Chopin seemed to be his favorite.
 
 198 A GENTLEMAN BORN. 
 
 and one of his famous Preludes was received with breath 
 less attention. 
 
 Then all eyes were bent upon the celebrated contralto, 
 who appeared in an exquisite selection from "Die Walkiire." 
 It is needless to say that the presence of the far famed 
 
 Mme. , whom many had listened to on the operatic 
 
 stage, was in itself a grand surprise; but when her clear 
 notes, softened and modulated to accord with the environ 
 ment, were heard in the original German of the solo, the 
 guests were marvelously affected. Even Lord Richleigh 
 was heard to remark that he had attended many drawing- 
 rooms, but had never been more charmingly entertained. 
 And when the last note died away, the applause was suf 
 ficiently flattering even to the performer. 
 
 Whilst the professor was executing, as a second number 
 a favorite Nocturne from Chopin, Mrs. Brandon came 
 up to Guyon s group. 
 
 "We will release you gentlemen from your allegiance," 
 she said, seating herself among the ladies. "There are 
 so many who are asking for you, Harold Mrs. Barrington 
 has caught a glimpse of Mr. McCarty and nothing will 
 do, but he must join their set." 
 
 "That s just like you, Mater ; when we are enjoying this 
 superb musical treat and the interesting companionship 
 of these ladies fair, you must break up our party." 
 
 "Oh, Mrs. Brandon, this is such a surprise, and such 
 a treat, too," whispered Miss Harcourt. 
 
 "Not our being dismissed from your society?" ventured 
 (ruyon. 
 
 "No, indeed to hear these men talk, they are per 
 fectly ridiculous. I mean the musical entertainment. 
 Chopin and Wagner are my favorites." 
 
 "And mine," murmured Miss Eushford. 
 
 "I am so gratified to find my guests enjoying the little
 
 MKS. BRANDON ENTERTAINS. 199 
 
 surprise ; but you are no doubt anxious for the dance which 
 uill follow." 
 
 "We ll see you before the dance, ladies," said Harold, as 
 he and Guyon moved away. 
 
 "And I trust that I will have the pleasure of a dance 
 with each of you," said Guyon. 
 
 The music had now ceased, and in the interval before 
 the fourth number which was looked forward to with no 
 little interest, the various parties were dividing themselves, 
 some seeking friends whom they had not had an opportu 
 nity of greeting earlier in the evening, others were throng 
 ing in the direction of the hostess to offer their congratu 
 lations upon the success of her drawing-room ; while others 
 again were merging in the direction where Miss Gordon 
 and the young English Lord were holding court, already sur 
 rounded by a goodly following. 
 
 Guyon and Harold -were among the latter; and as they 
 approached, Mabel for the first time seemed conscious of 
 Guyon s presence in the room. Her color heightened a 
 little, but it would have been difficult for a close observer 
 to discover whether it arose from pleasure or from chagrin. 
 
 "Lord Eichleigh, I want you to know my friend, Mr. 
 McCarty," said Harold, as that gentleman, having ex 
 changed a hearty greeting with him, favored Guyon with 
 the keen, penetrating glance of one accustomed to "size 
 up" a person he meets for the first time. 
 
 "Mr. McCarty," he said, taking Guyon s hand with r 
 warmth of welcome which was peculiar with him. "Mc 
 Carty is a good old Irish name." 
 
 "I believe it is," Guyon replied. 
 
 "Yes, we ought to have a kindred feeling, we men from 
 over the pond/ " continued Eichleigh. 
 
 "You are mistaken in that," said Guyon, while an
 
 200 A GENTLEMAN BORN. 
 
 amused twitter went around the group of listeners. "I 
 am not Irish by birth." 
 
 "Ah, that is one of my many blunders ; but since you bear 
 the name, you must be a chip of the old block at least; 
 BO, let s shake hands on that." 
 
 "I trust that I am a pretty good bit of a chip, " said 
 Guyon, already at home with this gentleman. 
 
 "You have met Miss Gordon," said Richleigh. 
 
 "Yes, we have met before," replied Mabel, favoring 
 Guyon with an approving smile. She could not do less 
 when an English Lord behaved so generously. 
 
 "You are looking more charming than when I saw you 
 last, Miss Gordon," said Guyon. 
 
 "Oh, I should hope so!" she replied. "Doubtless you 
 forget my predicament when you had the misfortune of 
 gazing upon me last." 
 
 "I did not recall that incident until you spoke of it. 
 I referred to the ball at Beaucliff." 
 
 "What was the interesting occasion? I must hear it," 
 said Eichleigh. 
 
 "Of course you have not heard about my yachting es 
 capade at Newport, last summer," Mabel replied. 
 
 "No, was it anything serious? By Jove! how much I 
 would have given to have been there if there was a chance 
 of saving your life !" 
 
 Miss Gordon glanced carelessly at Guyon s face, and saw 
 a shade of pain cross his countenance; then she turned to 
 Eichleigh. 
 
 "You would have behaved more gallantly than the master 
 of the yacht we were in. He clung to the theory of self- 
 preservation at any cost, even that of the lives of those 
 who were with him." 
 
 "Was it really as bad as that ? Bah ! the cur ! I would 
 like to have an opportunity of thrashing him."
 
 MRS. BRANDON ENTERTAINS. 201 
 
 And Barclay, who was not far away, overhearing the re 
 mark, lost no time in seeking more congenial quarters in 
 in another part of the room. 
 
 "This modest young gentleman here was our hero, risked 
 his own life to save our dear child," said Mrs. Barring- 
 ton. 
 
 "Indeed! Well, I could have thought as much," re 
 plied Eichleigh, giving Guyon a look of heartfelt admira 
 tion. " You must tell me all about it some time, Miss 
 Gordon/ 
 
 "Yes, if it comes to my mind; but it is really so tire- 
 tome to rehearse these episodes. You see, even Mr. Mc- 
 Carty did not remember it." 
 
 "Not absolutely. It escaped my mind because a sub 
 ject of greater moment eclipsed it," replied Guyon. 
 
 "Listen, friends!" said Mrs. Barrington; "there is 
 (he great tenor from the Opera Company about to sing. 
 Will you sit here beside me, Mr. McCarty ?" 
 
 "With pleasure," Guyon replied, experiencing the same 
 unaccountable attraction to the lady which he had felt 
 on the previous occasion. Now, too, he was in a position 
 where he could, if he wished, feast his e} r es on the beauty of 
 the young heiress, and note the impression which the sing 
 ing produced upon her. 
 
 It was from Wagner s "Siegfried," rendered as only a 
 professional can reproduce the exquisite sentiment of the 
 
 selection. If Mme. had created a sensation in "Die 
 
 Walkiire," she was surely relegated to a second place by 
 this number. 
 
 "Mrs. Brandon is such a dear good woman to give us 
 so great a pleasure," murmured Mrs. Barrington, as she 
 covered her face for a moment to conceal her emotion. 
 
 "She is one of the best I have ever met," replied Guyon. 
 
 "You do not know her as I do, Mr. McCarty. If you
 
 202 A GENTLEMAN BORN. 
 
 would only be guided by her counsel, you would certainly 
 be the most fortunate of men." 
 
 "Here she comes now! I declare, she is everywhere at 
 once/ exclaimed Eichleigh. 
 
 "Aren t you people almost satiated with this part of the 
 program?" asked the hostess, joining them. 
 
 "Not at all ! We could listen to such music for hours," 
 replied Miss Gordon. 
 
 "That is a delicate compliment from you, my dear. I 
 shall treasure it. Now, honestly, I came expressly to ask 
 you young people to adjourn to the ball-room ; the musicians 
 there are impatiently waiting your presence." 
 
 "En avant !" exclaimed Harold. "Now is your chance," 
 he whispered to Guyon. 
 
 "May I have just one dance, Miss Gordon?" queried 
 Guyon. 
 
 "I could not refuse you if T dared," replied the charm 
 ing Belle, with a glance that made his heart thrill with 
 delight. 
 
 Guyon had no dearth of partners in the many dances. 
 Most of the young ladies had met him at the Newport 
 ball; and others had heard of his fame, and looked upon 
 him as a wonderful fellow of the hero species. Barclay 
 was in the whirl of the dance, also; but it was a subject 
 of comment that he did not enter any of the sets where Miss 
 Gordon appeared. 
 
 Tn an interval of the dancing, he strolled over to where 
 Perry Harrington was standing, apparently taking little 
 interest in the scene, but in reality watching Guyon as 
 closely as a cat watches a mouse, no movement or action 
 escaping him. 
 
 "You appear to be enjoying yourself, Mr. Barclay," 
 he said. 
 
 "I am doing my best under the circumstances. You
 
 MRS. BRANDON ENTERTAINS. 203 
 
 have remarked how delicately Miss Gordon has cut me to 
 night?" 
 
 "Young ladies weapons are nqt always as keen edged 
 as they appear. I made a similar remark to you on a 
 former occasion, I believe." 
 
 "Yes, but I fear you do not diagnose the case correctly. 
 You are not ignorant of the attention Lord Kichleigh is 
 paying to her?" 
 
 "Eeally, now that you mention it, he does seem to be 
 particularly interested. Come, let us move to the other 
 side of the room beneath the gallery. I detest being so 
 close to the musicians, but it is more secluded, and we 
 can converse without being observed." 
 
 "Do you still favor my suit ?" asked Barclay, when they 
 had reached the desired place. 
 
 "I have said so, have I not? The more in the contest, 
 the greater laurels for the victor." 
 
 "Then you do not object to Kichleigh?" 
 
 "I object to no one who has a position and wealth to 
 uphold it." 
 
 "You are aware that McCarty is here to-night," re 
 marked Barclay. 
 
 "Yes, I have seen him conversing with my Ward; but 
 not alone as yet. I believe she has promised him a 
 dance." 
 
 "The Devil she has! And not given me a glance of 
 friendly recognition !" cried Barclay. 
 
 "Not so loud, my friend. You must proceed cautiously 
 if you wish to win golden opinions from the young lady. 
 What have you done to further your scheme?" 
 
 "Concerning McCarty ? A little. The plot is laid, and 
 everything is ready for him to fall into it." 
 
 "Humph ! Then, I suppose you will manage to have a
 
 204 A GENTLEMAN BORN. 
 
 letter reach Miss Gordon portraying the real character of 
 her hero." 
 
 "By Jove ! I had not thought of that. It s excellent 1" 
 
 "Not bad there, the confounded musicians are begin 
 ning. You ll be wanted for the dance. Keep a clear 
 head and you will succeed." 
 
 "You have raised my hopes to a high pitch. I cannot 
 thank you enough." 
 
 When Barclay emerged from his retreat beneath the 
 gallery, he saw to his chagrin, Guyon leading out Miss Gor 
 don to the dance. It was about the last of the evening ; and 
 there was no chance remaining for him ; but the sight was 
 a stimulus, if such were required, to the mischief he medi 
 tated. 
 
 Meanwhile Guyon s hopes and fears were alternately 
 rising and falling as he guided his beloved through the 
 mazes of the valse. All the past fervor of his love returned ; 
 for he not onty held her hand in his, but her presence was 
 in close proximity and her eyes looked up at times with a 
 something which appeared in his intoxicating dreams 
 to be more than passing friendship. 
 
 "You have not forgotten how to dance, I see," she was 
 raying. 
 
 "I trust not," he replied. "It would return swiftly with 
 you at my side." 
 
 "Compliments again ! Please remember not to utter 
 them. That is one thing I admire in Lord Richleigh, he 
 never gives a compliment." 
 
 "It is not exactly proper, I suppose; still when the 
 heart prompts the utterance, what can one do?" 
 
 "Place a rein upon your emotions. Is not that possible ? 
 It is easy to see that you are not a society man." 
 
 "No, I am not."
 
 MRS. BRANDON ENTERTAINS. 205 
 
 "But you should be! Why do you hold yourself aloof 
 from social events?" 
 
 "I did not know that society wished me." 
 
 "Ah! Pray what do you mean by society that is a 
 sweeping term." 
 
 "Yourself, for instance," replied Guyon, becoming bold 
 for the nonce. 
 
 "Myself? What difference can that make to you?" 
 
 "Not the slightest perhaps; and again, it might be 
 everything. Do you really wish me to appear more fre 
 quently ?" 
 
 "See, there is Lord Eichleigh," exclaimed Miss Gordon, 
 abruptly changing the subject. "Isn t he perfectly grand? 
 Think of it, a real Lord, with a castle ever so old, and a 
 superb residence in London." 
 
 "He is a perfect gentleman," replied Guyon honestly, 
 though it dawned upon him that this same English Lord 
 was a more formidable rival than Barclay had been. 
 
 "Yes, indeed. He is that and more. I tell you, he is 
 more like our real Southern gentlemen than any I have 
 met." 
 
 "He is fortunate in having won your gracious opinions," 
 said Guyon. "You never weary of his society ?" 
 
 "Weary of it? No; he does not bore me with silly 
 phrases, and idle compliments; then he has travelled so 
 much you should hear him tell of the Land of the Mid 
 night Sun, and of his exploits in Africa !" 
 
 "I sincerely congratulate you upon his friendship." 
 
 "Eeally? That is generous in you; but why shouldn t 
 you? He is going back to England very soon, I believe. 5 * 
 
 "You will miss his company?" ventured Guyon. 
 
 "Yes, of course; but why should I answer your ques 
 tion? It was scarcely right in you to put it so." 
 
 "Pardon me! You cannot know how deeply interested
 
 206 A GENTLEMAN BORN. 
 
 1 am in you, Miss Gordon, but you cannot have forgotten 
 those few moments we spent on the veranda at Beaucliff." 
 
 "Indeed I have. Did we stroll there after the dance?" 
 
 "I see you do not wish to recall it." 
 
 "No, I do not. Here we are at the end of the dance. I 
 enjoyed it emmensely. Thanks, ever so much. Deary 
 me," she added, "there is the summons to supper." 
 
 "Lord Kichleigh will be your escort, I presume," said 
 Guyon; "here he comes now to claim you." 
 
 "Always on time, are you not?" murmured the Belle. 
 
 The reply Guyon did not hear. Pie would fain have 
 avoided appearing at the supper; but he had promised to 
 lead in Miss Rushford, and he proceeded in a half-hearted 
 way to fulfill his duty, much to the annoyance of the pretty 
 lass. It was quite an elaborate affair in the banquet-hall, 
 with floral decorations galore, and daintiest viands to ternpt 
 ihe most fastidious. Guyon s position was almost opposite 
 Miss Gordon, where he could drink in copious draughts of 
 her beauty, hear her merry, ringing laugh, and witness 
 the pleasure which Lord Richleigh was enjoying at her 
 side. 
 
 When it was all over, and a final dance wound up the 
 affair, he departed among the first. "It were better if I 
 had not come," he thought, as he drove home alone to the 
 McCarty residence. All the old-time passion was full upon 
 him, the vision of her beauty haunted him as something 
 which would not be repelled, and with it came the knowl 
 edge, the almost confession she had made, that her affec 
 tions were centered in Lord "Richleigh, the gentleman of 
 wealth and high degree
 
 A FASHIONABLE OPIUM JOINT. 20? 
 
 CHAPTEK XXIV. 
 
 A FASHIONABLE OPIUM JOINT. 
 
 THE day following brought little relief to Guyon. An 
 oppression of the deepest melancholy had settled upon 
 him, which he did not even exert himself to overcome. 
 He went down to the office in the morning more from 
 habit than with the idea of diverting his mind, and his 
 unusually haggard appearance attracted the notice of the 
 kind-hearted contractor. 
 
 "Phwat s the matter wid ye at all, Guy, me lad," he 
 exclaimed, as Guyon seated himself at his desk, and was 
 seemingly absorbed in reflection. 
 
 "1 don t feel well to-day, Dad. I guess I ll have to 
 give up this work for a while." 
 
 "That s right! Take a bit of a holiday. It ll do ye 
 no harm, sure ; an don t be f rettin that way, at all." 
 
 "It s pretty hard, Dad, when everything is dead against 
 one." 
 
 "Faith, it s not so bad as that! Ye haven t heard a 
 word f rum Biglin in a great phwile ?" 
 
 "No, he, too, seems to avoid me. Most probably he 
 has met with no success. The money was wasted with 
 the Italian, I m afraid." 
 
 "Even so, it didn t break us; an ef ye can t find yer 
 own folks, sure ye know yer me own b y still." 
 
 "Yes, Dad, I won t forget that. I ll go away for a 
 week or so, and if you don t hear from me, don t worry,
 
 208 A GENTLEMAN BORN. 
 
 If mother should make inquiries, say that I needed a 
 rest, and have gone for a short vacation." 
 
 "Lave that ter me! Sure, the Missus hasn t no call 
 pryin inter yer affairs. I ll give her a tip on that." 
 
 Guyon left the office with no definite purpose in view. 
 Had he been a man of less mental calibre, the overwhelm 
 ing force of circumstances which seemed to be combining 
 against him, might have rendered him desperate, and led 
 him to end his miserable existence. Surely there seemed 
 little for him to live for now. No vestige of a chance of 
 discovering his parentage and thereby establishing himself 
 in the position which, even in this dark moment, ho felt 
 to a certainty was his right. Then, the one great passion 
 of his life, his love for Mabel Gordon, had received a second 
 and more deadly blow in the knowledge that Lord Kieh- 
 leigh had come between him and his awakening hopes. 
 Whilst he was walking along aimlessly, revolving these 
 thoughts in his mind, he almost ran into Barclay, who 
 was approaching from the opposite direction. 
 
 "Good-morning, Mr. McCarty," he exclaimed, extending 
 his hand as though in warmest friendship. "You are 
 out for a constitutional, I suppose, this delightful 
 day?" 
 
 "Not exactly. I didn t feel like working, so I closed 
 my desk and strolled out with no particular object in 
 view." 
 
 "Eeally ! Now, you are not looking well. . Come up 
 to Sherry s with me, will you ? We ll have a bite of some 
 thing. Nothing like refreshing the inner man when one 
 is out of sorts." 
 
 "I believe I will," said Guyon. 
 
 "I tell you what, McCarty," said Barclay, when they 
 were comfortably seated before a light luncheon he had 
 ordered, and the champagne was sparkling in their glasses,
 
 A FASHIONABLE OPIUM JOINT. 209 
 
 "I believe that you and I have cause for mutual friend 
 ship don t spare the wine, there s plenty more where the 
 bottle came from, and Sherry s is the best." 
 
 I don t quite understand your reference/ Guyon re 
 plied, as he emptied his second glass, and acknowledged 
 to himself that his condition might not be so bad after 
 all. 
 
 "Well, it s this wa}\ We both attended the Brandon 
 affair last night, we both had an opportunity of seeing 
 Miss Gordon and Lord Kichleigh." 
 
 "Oh, I begin to perceive ! " said Guyon. 
 
 "Yes, but did you not understand when you left the 
 house that both of us were eclipsed by the English noble 
 man ?" 
 
 I thought that you had already given up the race, 
 Mr. Barclay." 
 
 "True, you must have noticed how coldly I was received ; 
 but really I cannot see why, with your elegant appearance 
 and so on, you should not have stood an equal chance with 
 Riehleigh, especially when you have a claim, a priority 
 of right, as it were, by having saved her life." 
 
 "Nonsense ! that amounts to nothing. I. would not have 
 wished the young lady to consider it. But speaking of 
 equal chances, you forget that my position is inferior to 
 his." 
 
 "That shouldn t count, but I suppose it does with her, 
 she has such confounded Southern ideas of birth and the 
 like take another glass, allow me to pledge our good 
 fellowship !" 
 
 "Thank you heartily, Mr. Barclay. Honestly, if I 
 ever needed a friend it is at present. To be confidential 
 with you, I am more than ordinarily out of sorts way 
 down in the depths, so to speak!"
 
 210 A GENTLEMAN BORN. 
 
 "I thought as much. I believe you told me that you are 
 interested in Miss Gordon/ 
 
 "Did I? I don t remember, well, there is no neces 
 sity for concealment now at any rate; I was most deeply 
 interested in Miss Gordon there, it is out ! You will not 
 betray my confidence?" 
 
 "Have no fear of that, old fellow!" "I was not far 
 out of the way," thought Barclay, "and all my schemes 
 have a real motive from his confession/ 
 
 "There comes to my mind at this moment," said 
 Guyon, as he sipped his fourth glass, "a remembrance of 
 something you said to me when we were visiting the opium 
 den in Chinatown." 
 
 "What was that?" asked Barclay, knowing well, but 
 wishing to lead on his victim. 
 
 "You said that there was nothing like smoking the drug 
 as a panacea for all the ills of life." 
 
 "Did I ? well, I will confess to you that I did that very 
 thing last night when I reached my quarters." 
 
 "And the effect?" 
 
 "Perfect oblivion of the odious side of life, a gradual 
 merging into all that is beautiful and entrancing." 
 
 "Is it agreeable to you that I try it this evening ?" asked 
 Guyon. 
 
 "Agreeable ? Did I not say that my apartments are open 
 to you at any time? Come at once no time like the 
 present, say I." 
 
 "All right, let us go !" 
 
 Summoning a cab, they drove to Dimples flat, at Cen 
 tral Park west, of which Barclay had spoken to Guyon as 
 liis bachelor apartments. 
 
 As they were ascending the stairs, Barclay spoke in a 
 tone loud enough to be heard by the occupant of the 
 flat:
 
 A FASHIONABLE OPIUM JOINT. 211 
 
 "Here we are, Mr. McCarty. I think I told you that I 
 had a pleasant surprise awaiting you. My joint isn t 
 anything like what you have seen, I can tell you." 
 
 "The surroundings will enchance the effect of the drug, 
 no doubt," Guyon replied with a little laugh. 
 
 Opening the door of the apartments, they appeared to 
 be deserted. Everything, however, was in perfect order. 
 The drawing-room was exceptionally pretty and tasteful 
 in decoration, notwithstanding its limited proportions. 
 At the further end, to one side, portieres of the finest 
 Oriental texture were hung. Barclay drew them apart 
 and disclosed a room fitted in truly Eastern splendor. 
 There was but one window in the place, which was so 
 heavily draped as to exclude the faintest ray of light. 
 An alcove had been formed into an Oriental nook with 
 curious tapestries covering the sides, while on an exquis 
 itely carved pedestal rose a statue of Buddha, surrounded 
 with all the paraphernalia of a shrine. Above, from the 
 centre of the alcove, hung a massive lantern of bronze, 
 sustaining a dozen or more colored lamps, which gave a 
 strange, weird light. In another corner was a cabinet 
 filled with the rarest Indian curios, and the floor was 
 covered with the skins of tigers and leopards whose heads 
 with glassy eyes and gaping jaws looked gruesome, to say 
 the least. 
 
 "How do you like it?" said Barclay. 
 
 "Immensely ! I did not know that you were a disciple 
 of the Buddhist creed." 
 
 "Nor am I. It s just a part of the get up, you know. 
 My friends who come here like the idea, and it s quite the 
 fad, I assure you." 
 
 "And where may one smoke the opium ?" asked Guyon. 
 
 "You have remarked the odor, I presume?"
 
 212 A GENTLEMAN BORN. 
 
 "Yes; but it is strangely different from what we ex 
 perienced in Chinatown/ 
 
 "A trifle; that arises from the aromatic incense burn 
 ing at the shrine, mingling with the opium fumes. I find 
 it most agreeable." 
 
 At this point, Barclay led his guest to another corner 
 of the room which he had not yet observed ; and, drawing 
 a curtain, disclosed a nook fitted with a couch, upon which 
 were a number of cushions of the softest texture, and a 
 table upon which burned a tiny fairy lamp. There were 
 also a couple of pipes, beautiful affairs made of bamboo 
 tipped with polished ivory, the box containing the opium, 
 and the needle, all the requisites of a complete opium 
 outfit. Above the couch rose a canopy of rich material 
 supported on either side by spears of approved antiquity. 
 
 "Are you ready?" asked Barclay gazing steadily at 
 Guyon, as though fearful he would retreat at the last mo 
 ment. 
 
 "Perfectly ! I am more than anxious to try it ; only I 
 do not know when I shall leave this place when once I 
 begin smoking." 
 
 "Just imagine yourself an Indian Eajah, if you will; 
 give full play to your fancy as you recline on the couch 
 there, does it suit you?" 
 
 "Luxurious!" murmured Guyon, as he sank upon the 
 pillows. "One could conjure up visions of Paradise here." 
 
 "And the Houri?" 
 
 "They only are wanting." 
 
 "Not at all. Here, Mirantha ! we are waiting for you !" 
 exclaimed Barclay. 
 
 And in response to his call, Dimples entered attired as 
 }i,n Eastern princess in a chort white tunic fastened at 
 the breast with a girdle of the purest gold, the long flow 
 ing sleeves concealing in part the pearly whiteness of her
 
 A FASHIONABLE OPIUM JOINT. 213 
 
 arms, while her countenance was properly veiled in Oriental 
 fashion. 
 
 "This lady will attend to your wants, only don t speak 
 to her, for she does not understand our language very 
 well." 
 
 "I believe this is part of your entertainment. I can 
 scarcely think that the portion of those lovely features I 
 behold belong to an Indian maid; however, I will enter 
 fully into the spirit of the thing and do as you bid." 
 
 Dimples hastened to prepare the pipe, and by her motions 
 instructed Guyon how to hold the tiny ball of opium over 
 the flame of the lamp; then, as he began to inhale the 
 vapor, she turned aside to Barclay, \vho, comprehending 
 her gesture, withdrew. Guyon was soon oblivious of all 
 about him. He knew not that the young girl held his 
 hand in hers, nor that she watched his every motion and 
 heard the exclamations which he uttered. 
 
 He was drifting rapidly away from all his past and 
 present trouble and darkness. Light, resplendent light 
 shone about him, and the place where he was seemed 
 transformed into a regal palace. There, in the blaze of 
 glory upon a throne, she was seated, surrounded by 
 courtiers and attendants without number. Delicious 
 odors were wafted by summer zephyrs through the halls 
 odors of precious spices and of the rarest flowering plants. 
 He saw her rise from her throne as he approached. He 
 would kneel to kiss her hand, but she bade him rise, taking 
 him by the hand, and calling him her love her King; 
 \vhile softest music filled the place from some unsoen 
 performers. Hand in hand, they leave the hall, they 
 wander out into the gardens where winged cupids strew 
 rosebuds in their path, and the blossoms of the orange 
 and pomegranate. Countless singing birds warble their 
 songs of delight, and the heavens above are of the softest
 
 214 A GENTLEMAN BORN. 
 
 azure hues. "I love you!" she whispers, "I love you! 
 dwell here with me, my love!" As though he needed her 
 word whilst he gazed into those eyes! How different 
 from the night at Beaucliff! How changed from her 
 gaze when she awoke from her unconscious state after he 
 .had rescued her! How wonderfully changed from the 
 glance she gave him at Brandon s last night ! "But where 
 is Bichleigh?" he is saying, "have you forgotten him? 
 Is not he more worthy of sharing your exalted state?" 
 t\nd she murmurs : "I love but you !" Then when he would 
 have folded her to his heart Bah! the light is failing! 
 darkness obscures the wondrous scene! He gropes on 
 through the gardens, he is lost in the impenetrable mazes. 
 By some inexecrable fate, his loved one has been torn from 
 his embrace. Darker still! The palace, and the gardens 
 vanish ! he awakes. 
 
 "Fill it again!" Guyon cries, motioning to Dimples 
 who had receded to a further corner. And, at his bid 
 ding, she once more dips the point of the needle into the 
 sticky mass of opium, brings it out with a little lump 
 about the size of a pea, and goes through the same opera 
 tion with him of holding it in the pipe over the flame. 
 Guyon breathes heavily. Eagerly he inhales the fascinat 
 ing smoke, slowly, more slowly, his senses succumb to the 
 influence. 
 
 Once more he is with Mabel Gordon, his loved one; but 
 there is another lady with her now. Where has he seen 
 her before? Was it in those mysterious dreams which 
 twice before had visited him? This time, the scene re 
 sembles the Barrington Villa at Newport. Ah, it is the 
 occasion of the ball! The two ladies are seated on the 
 \eranda. As he approaches, the elderly lady holds out 
 her arms to embrace him. Ah, the warmth and security 
 of that moment ! She presents him to Mabel as her son,
 
 A FASHIONABLE OPIUM JOINT. 215 
 
 lie all wonder, whilst he endeavors to recall those features. 
 that more than affectionate expression in her eyes as she 
 gazes on him. She disappears. They are alone now, his 
 love and he in the same moonlit scene. The ocean, bathed in 
 silvery sheen, the heavens above, clear and beautiful, the 
 odors of the briny deep wafted on the air of the summer 
 night. And they are alone only the distant music of 
 the breakers, and the refrain from the orchestra disturbs 
 the silence. And that feeling of exquisite delight from 
 her presence steals over him, soothing every pain, and 
 banishing every extraneous sensation. "You will never 
 leave me now," he murmurs, "my own, my darling! you 
 are all mine!" "All yours!" she replies, her head 
 resting upon his breast, her deep blue eyes beauteous in 
 the moonlight, upturned to his. And then a cloud ob 
 scures the Queen of the Night! The winds from Eurus 
 caves are unloosed. The waves are lashed into fury. They 
 are down there, struggling in the watery abyss. "Save 
 me !" she cries, "save me !" Fearfully he battles with the 
 elements. Now he is about to reach his dear one, now 
 an angry billow more furious than the last, dashes them 
 apart. Darker, still darker! Anguish upon agony, she 
 has gone ! she has perished in the raging waters. 
 
 "Another pipe,, quick !" "I cannot stand this much 
 longer, and still what is it that fascinates me ?" he thought ; 
 as his senses returning with a terrific shock which almost 
 unbalanced his reason, he gave the order to the pretty 
 attendant. 
 
 Without uttering a word, Dimples again prepared the 
 pipe, noticing even now the ravages which the two former 
 had wrought upon him. His cheeks deadly pale, his eyes 
 distended and glassy, while the cold moisture stood out 
 in beads upon his forehead. Still, she was unmoved by 
 the slightest sentiment of pity. Her one great purpose
 
 A GENTLEMAN BORN. 
 
 the acquisition of all that Barclay had promised, stood 
 forth in prominence before her mind, leaving no place for 
 any heart-pleading which her better nature might have 
 suggested. 
 
 The third pipe having been inhaled, Guy on experienced 
 a phenomenon which has puzzled many thinkers in 
 psychological research. It seemed that his loved one 
 was removed at a great distance from him physically. 
 Added to this was an apparently insurmountable barrier 
 of moral force separating them still more acutely. But, 
 without a thought as to the possibility of overcoming the 
 obstacles, lo, they were burst asunder! for his spirit, his 
 astral self, leaving the confines of its material prison, was 
 wafted with swiftest motion towards his love. And she. 
 in spirit coming, responsive to his call, they met in a 
 woodland dell. It was early springtime, and the birds in 
 joyous chorus greeted the spirit-lovers. Wood Nymphs 
 and Fauns tripped nimbly along their path scattering the 
 first blossoms of the dogwood, and wreathing garlands 
 of the trailing plants and laurels, while myriads of insects 
 buzzed their drony song. How fragrant the atmosphere 
 with the renaissance of Nature ! How buoyant their astral 
 reives untrammelled with the physical weight and shackles ! 
 
 <f You have come in answer to my longing desire," he 
 paid to the loved one. 
 
 "I have come because you willed it, and because your 
 love summoned me." 
 
 <f Would that we could dwell always thus, apart from men, 
 from the world and ourselves, communing with each other 
 r.nd with Nature." 
 
 "There is no other way, no other means for us to meet, 
 Jove; the barriers are so strongly built only our spirit 
 selves may pass beyond."
 
 A FASHIONABLE OPIUM JOINT. 217 
 
 " Tis destined so well, dearest one, we still can meet 
 at will." 
 
 "Call, and I come ! No distance is too great," she mur 
 mured, "nor earth, nor heaven can part us, love !" 
 
 "My own," he whispered then, when he would embrace 
 Ler, a giant figure, some monster of the primeval forest, 
 rose between them, and his love affrighted, vanished. 
 Heavenward his spirit soared and sought her among the 
 strata of clouds in the ether, encountering myriad 
 other spirits, but his lost love he found not. Over seas and 
 lands he sped with untiring motion. His quest was in 
 vain. His material self began to plead her soul s return; 
 nor could his most strenuous efforts resist the attrac 
 tion. 
 
 His awakening senses feel the loss most keenly. He 
 strives to call his love, he strives to free himself once more 
 from earthly bonds, but his powers are tortured one by 
 cne by the maddening effort. Then with a cry of almost 
 insanity, he awakes from the third pipe, exhausted. 
 
 "Another," he whispered faintly. 
 
 "I do not think I can give you another to-day," said 
 Dimples, falling down upon the floor beside the couch. 
 
 Who are you that would prescribe the limits to my 
 indulgence?" he replied. 
 
 "Who am I, Mr. McCarty ? Open your eyes and perhaps 
 you will recognize me." At the same time Dimples threw 
 aside the veil which partially concealed her features. 
 
 "Come closer," said Guyon hoarsely. "No, by Heaven, 
 it is not she! It is you, Dimples. How did you come 
 here?" he asked, rising to a half-sitting posture. 
 
 "I didn t come at all, I m just here," she replied, fa 
 voring him with a roguish smile. 
 
 "Then this is not Barclay s bachelor apartment?" 
 
 "Oh, yes, you may call it that if you wish."
 
 218 A GENTLEMAN BORN. 
 
 "And you are not his wife? Of course not! If I 
 had imagined it all but how could I have obtained : .he 
 information ?" 
 
 "Come, Mr. McCarty, what s the good of moralizing? 
 You have come here of your own free will, haven t you?" 
 
 "Yes, I believe so. Certainly I did. I cannot recall 
 just when I came those pictures ! Where am I ?" he ex 
 claimed, and a film seemed to cover his sight. 
 
 "You are right here, deary. Don t you mind the pic 
 tures. Were they grand?" 
 
 "The visions I had? Did I say anything about them?" 
 asked Guyon, raising himself again and gazing about the 
 loom. 
 
 "No. Do you mind if I sit here by you on the couch ?" 
 
 "Sit there if you want to, Dimples. We are old friends, 
 aren t we, you and I ?" 
 
 "You said so once," she replied, looking down at her 
 dainty feet which showed to excellent advantage by reason 
 of her short tunic. 
 
 "There is no reason why we should not still be friends. 
 Now give me another pipe, that s a good girl." 
 
 "No, T want you to talk with me. Say, you re in love, 
 f.in t you?" she asked, plumping out the question so sud 
 denly that Guyon was at a loss how to answer. 
 
 "Why do you ask?" he said. 
 
 "Oh, I don t know! You young fellows generally are. 
 find when you re handsome and swell, you can catch any 
 thing you chase." 
 
 "I m afraid your knowledge is not exactly accurate," 
 replied Guyon with a smile. 
 
 "Maybe it isn t ; but I can t see why a girl wouldn t love 
 you." 
 
 "I haven t said that I desire the love of any young 
 damsel."
 
 A FASHIONABLE OPIUM JOINT. 219 
 
 "You haven t said so, but I know it. You won t mind 
 if I tell you that I heard just a little of what you said while 
 ^ou were under the influence, will you?" she asked, mov 
 ing a little closer to his side. 
 
 "What was it, a real confession?" 
 
 "Something like it. Told the name of the lady, too." 
 
 "Ah, Dimples, it s no use dodging you since you know; 
 but did I say also that my love was not returned?" 
 
 "Yes, indeedy at least I might infer as much. Gee 
 whiz ! she must be mighty hard to please." 
 
 "Perhaps so; but you must remember my origin, Dimples. 
 Remember what you and I once were." 
 
 "Pshaw, what s the use? As long as you ve got the 
 plunks and the swell make-up, what s the odds? I say.^ 
 
 "A great deal more than you have any idea of. Now, 
 Dimples, do you know what I sometimes think?" 
 
 "Nothing about me, is it ?" she asked, giving him a long. 
 Joving look out of her big, blue eyes. 
 
 "Yes, about you. I have thought that it might have 
 been better for me if I had not been lifted from the 
 streets. You and I would have grown up together I did 
 like you immensely once." 
 
 "You said that before," remarked Dimples with a little 
 pout. 
 
 "What if I say it again?" said Guyon. "If our earli 
 est friendship had not been blighted, it might have ripened 
 into something like a warmer attachment." 
 
 "Something like Mr. Barclay s?" queried Dimples, with 
 a saucy smile. 
 
 "No, not as bad as that. But, Dimples, now that you 
 have touched on the subject, can I not urge you to leave this 
 place?" 
 
 "Easy, if you want to." 
 
 "On what condition?"
 
 220 A GENTLEMAN BORN. 
 
 "That is for yourself to name. May I call you Guy?" 
 
 "Yes, if you wish. I don t think I quite follow you." 
 
 "Don t you? Well, if I leave this beautiful home, where 
 t-hall I go? I ain t got no other place. No parents or 
 anyone who cares for me," she said, with the cleverest bit 
 of acting, which included a sob or two, and a pretty lace 
 handkerchief applied to her eyes with a hand of delicate 
 proportions on which several costly jewels were displayed. 
 
 "You are not altogether friendless whilst I am living," 
 Guyon whispered, he coming close to her this time: 
 
 "Then you do like me !" she exclaimed. "And if I left 
 Barclay you would give me a grand house, and horses 
 and coaches and all that?" 
 
 "I have not said so much, my little girl, but this I will 
 honestly promise, you shall have a respectable home." 
 
 "Pshaw! what s the fun in being respectable? But 
 then, I wouldn t care so much if you were with me." 
 
 "I cannot promise you that, Dimples. I have no definite 
 plans for the future. I have no right to hope for success 
 in my one cherished love. There, you see, little one, I have 
 confessed unconsciously to you that I love another most 
 deeply and sincerely. You would not have me wed you 
 without giving you all my heart s affection." 
 
 "Oh, ain t you slow!" exclaimed Dimples, with an 
 impetuous kick at the couch. "But you are such a good, 
 innocent dear ! Just give me a kiss and we ll go out and 
 have tea together." 
 
 Then, before Guyon could utter a word in protest, the 
 ,irl had flung both her arms around his neck, and kissed 
 him again and again.
 
 MISS GORDON RECEIVES A LETTER. 2*1 
 
 CHAPTER XXV. 
 
 MISS GORDON RECEIVES A LETTER. 
 
 "Do you know, Mabel, I have not seen Harold nor 
 heard from him for two or three days, and I think he is 
 perfectly horrid!" 
 
 I cannot share your opinion, Esther dear. Really, I 
 think you are too exacting; especially when you are not 
 even his fiancee." 
 
 "Perhaps there is something in that; but you know I 
 am willing to be if he should ask me. It s so absurd that 
 girls can t have real lovers until they reach a certain 
 age." 
 
 "In your case, no doubt it is, dear, for with all your 
 after experience, I do not think your own true little heart 
 i\ ill ever languish after another. You will meet many men 
 more handsome, and perhaps brighter than Harold Bran 
 don, but you will be true to him." 
 
 "Thank you ever so much for that, May. You seem to 
 read me better than I know myself ; however, on this point, 
 1 feel that you are correct. To think that I have to wait 
 another whole year before I enjoy all these pleasures of 
 which you already are tired !" 
 
 "Yes, tired is about the correct word, Esther." 
 
 "But the latest, Lord Richleigh, you are not weary of 
 him? You spoke so eloquently of his gallantry and ex 
 quisite dancing at the Brandon drawing-room." 
 
 "Did 1?" asked Miss Gordon, with a little suspicion of 
 a yawn.
 
 222- A GENTLEMAN BORN. 
 
 "Yes, and he has called since that evening. Did you 
 fmd it difficult to entertain him?" 
 
 "Oh, no! that is right easy, child. Entertaining is 
 my forte somehow. I could enjoy the society of gentlemen 
 every evening, provided they were of Kichleigh s stamp, 
 and did not attempt love-making that is what annoys 
 me." 
 
 "You poor, pretty, beautiful thing!" exclaimed Esther, 
 throwing her arms around her friend, and gazing into ber 
 eyes with an expression half-comic, half-sympathetic. 
 * l am really afraid you will die an old maid." 
 
 They made a pretty picture, these two young girls, pit 
 ting together on a cozy couch drawn up before a log-fire 
 in Mabel s boudoir. Esther has changed somewhat since 
 \ve saw her last. Her beauty of form and feature is becom 
 ing more pronounced, and she bids fair to attract even 
 more admiration, when she enters society, than her mother 
 did in her palmiest days when she reigned Belle of every 
 event for so many seasons. Esther s disposition remains 
 the same. True and steadfast of purpose, loving, where 
 the object proves itself worthy, with an intensity of feel 
 ing which amounts almost to devotion. Her girl friends 
 are numerous, attracted by her charming ways ; but Mabel 
 Gordon still holds the old place of chummiest chum ; and 
 whilst she has as yet met few gentlemen besides Harold 
 Brandon, her love for him is a subject which she believes 
 too sacred to question. 
 
 As she looks now into Mabel s eyes, the liquid depths 
 of which can at times conceal the truer sentiments of the 
 heart, she finds nothing to contradict her statement. 
 
 "What if I should, Pet, would it be so dreadful a crime ?" 
 
 "I don t know. Mama says that it is the duty of every 
 girl to marry." 
 
 "Does she not qualify her assertion, dear?"
 
 MISS GORDON RECEIVES A LETTER. 223 
 
 "Oh, yes; of course, she adds, if one finds the man of 
 her choice, the one whom she can love as none other." 
 
 "That is the all-important point ; and if we do not meet 
 the man, then there is no other alternative." 
 
 "If you please. Miss Gordon," said the maid appearing 
 at the door, "Mr. Barrington sent this letter to you. Was 
 put into his mail by mistake, he says." 
 
 "All right, Julie, you may go." "I wonder whom it is 
 from?" she continued, as she carelessly examined the 
 envelope. 
 
 "It s a man s handwriting," said Esther, peering over 
 her shoulder with the privilege which her chumship 
 claimed. 
 
 "Yes, and I have seen it before," replied Mabel mus 
 ingly; and she reached for a delicate pearl paper cutter 
 from her desk. 
 
 "Do you mind reading it to me, May, I m so inter 
 ested!" 
 
 "Of course not, Darling, there are no secrets between 
 us." She read: 
 
 "DEAR Miss GORDON: 
 
 "Excuse the liberty I take in addressing you, which 
 I feel the more delicate about doing, knowing your declared 
 aversion to me. But even while this very acknowledg 
 ment precludes a motive of self-interest, it should suggest 
 that your own interest is ever present to my mind." 
 
 "Cleverly put," Esther interposed. "Let s see the sub 
 scription." 
 
 "There is no need of that; it is from that fellow Bar 
 clay. His hypocritical pretences are too transparent in 
 these few lines."
 
 224 A GENTLEMAN BORN. 
 
 "What can he he writing about?" asked Esther with 
 growing impatience. 
 
 "You shall not be long in ignorance," replied her 
 friend. 
 
 "I am aware," she continued reading, "that a certain 
 party, McCarty by name, posing in society as a gentleman, 
 but in reality having no claim to the title, has won your 
 respect and life-long gratitude by having rescued you from 
 death last summer. 
 
 "Lest my words may appear too strong for credence, 
 1 am prepared to furnish proof that this man frequents 
 resorts in this city which are, to say the least, question 
 able, and that he is at present enjoying the pleasures of 
 the opium habit in company with a chorus girl from the 
 Casino." 
 
 "Pardon me for bringing this disagreeable truth to 
 your attention, and, believe me again, it is only from a 
 motive pure and disinterested." 
 "I am, 
 
 "With deepest respect, 
 
 "GEORGE BARCLAY." 
 
 As she finished reading, her voice trembled with an emo 
 tion she did not attempt to conceal, while her face alter 
 nately flushed a deep crimson and grew deadly pale. Mabel 
 remained silent for some time ; and Esther, with no intima- 
 1ion of what was passing in her friend s mind, gazed at 
 her, believing that her agitation was caused by a feeling 
 of indignation against the man who had dared to address 
 her 
 
 "Isn t it awful?" she whispered, taking Mabel s hand in 
 hers and wondering why it was icy cold, 
 
 There was no response.
 
 MISS GORDON RECEIVES A LETTER. 225 
 
 Mabel, what is the matter? Why are you so dis 
 turbed?" she exclaimed. 
 
 "The base wretch ! the false-hearted friend !" she almost 
 hissed. 
 
 "Mabel, Mabel! you are not yourself! What are you 
 saying ?" 
 
 "I know perfectly well, Esther. I can t help it. Throw 
 that thing in the fire, it will poison me if I touch it. 
 No, don t !" she cried, as Esther was on the point of carry 
 ing out her request. "It may be of use to me yet." 
 
 "Do you think it is really so ? He appeared to be so t ruly 
 a gentleman; and then, Harold brought him to us. What 
 \vill he think? I wonder if he knows how bad he is?" 
 said Esther, as though communing with herself. 
 
 "Of whom are you speaking ?" Mabel demanded sharply. 
 
 "Please don t be offended! I I didn t mean any 
 thing, only it seems so dreadfully real, all that he writes 
 about Mr. McCarty." 
 
 "And you believe it ?" asked Miss Gordon, looking at her 
 friend a strange light gleaming in her eyes. 
 
 "What else are we to do ? We all have known Mr. Bar 
 clay so long, his family is of the best; and besides he is 
 cne of Papa s personal friends." 
 
 "With all that, Esther, were he descended from a family 
 which traced its origin back to the flood ; were his standing 
 in society the highest and best; and even though he is on 
 terms of intimate friendship with your family, I atsert 
 that what he writes is false." 
 
 "Mabel, do you say that ? But then, you are prejudiced 
 against Mr. Barclay." 
 
 "I despise him ! I had little use for him. I have found 
 him to be a weak, selfish man, caring more for his own 
 pleasure and amusement than for the well-being of those 
 i.bout him. 1 permitted his attentions to me only to draw
 
 226 A GENTLEMAN BOBN. 
 
 him out and measure his protestations of love from the 
 truest standpoint. He failed utterly, and I discarded him. 
 See how he retaliates ! vilifying the character of this man 
 who has not the power to injure him if he willed." 
 
 "It is singular!" mused Esther; "but consider. May 
 dear, doesn t he know that Mr. McCarty hasn t a chance 
 of winning your hand? He was at the Brandon affair 
 the other night, and witnessed, as you told me, your prefer 
 ence for the society of Lord Kichleigh." 
 
 "That is true. However, all this may have been planned 
 fcome time ago. Look at the date of the letter. It was 
 written the very day following the dance No, Esther 
 dear, I see now as clearly as though I had penetrated his 
 most secret thoughts. He thinks by this letter to place 
 me under an obligation to him. He thinks that he will 
 rise in my esteem, even perhaps to supersede my supposed 
 attachment for Kichleigh." 
 
 "He says that he has proof!" suggested Esther. 
 
 "My dear, you are a sweet, good, innocent child; and 
 know very little of the ways of men. If he has proof, 
 it will bear investigation." 
 
 "You will go as far as that, May? I didn t know that 
 you were so much interested in Mr. McCarty." 
 
 "Well, if I am ?" replied this strange young lady. "Have 
 you anything to say against it? Surely you should not. 
 when your own dearest friend, than whom you believe 
 there is none better living, introduced him to us. Ho has 
 known him for a long time, they were chums at College. 
 Eeally, if there were anything so disgracefully wrong in 
 his character, he would have known it." 
 
 "Yes, I believe Harold; and yet, it is so hard to decide. 
 May," she said, dropping on a cushion before her friend, 
 and looking up into her face, "May, you do not love Mr. 
 McCarty, do you?"
 
 MISS GORDON RECEIVES A LETTER. 227 
 
 "Nonsense, child ! Is it necessary for me to love evrry 
 man whose cause 1 champion ? Mr. McCarty has appeared 
 in my eyes as a gentleman on the few occasions I have met 
 him. His bearing, his cultured manners, his very ac 
 tions so oblivious of self and solicitous for others all 
 Ihis in some way offsets the thought of his humble origin. 
 I respect him. I have not admitted as much before, but 
 when his character is attacked by so vile a man as Bar 
 clay, I must truthfully say this much to you, Esther." 
 
 "Then I, too, will trust him, Mabel ; for I know that j ou 
 must have well-founded convictions for speaking as strongly 
 as you do." 
 
 "I do not ask you to go that far, dear. Let me think 
 cf some plan. You say that Barclay and your father are 
 friends. We will consult him to-night ; then, if he thinks 
 there is anything in it, would you mind asking Harold 
 to look into the matter? Of course, he will be interested, 
 and I have not the slightest doubt but that he will take 
 my view of the case." 
 
 "Yes, that will be the best course to pursue," Esther 
 replied.
 
 228 A GENTLEMAN BORN. 
 
 CHAPTER XXVI. 
 
 AT BAY. 
 
 THAT evening Perry Barrington was sitting alone in 
 the library. It was a habit he had cultivated for some 
 years, this sequestering himself from the rest of fhe fam.ly 
 on a pretence of study and research. And only when 
 ?. change to his Club apartments seemed siiited to his pur 
 pose, or when social events actually demanded his presence, 
 did he leave his sanctum. 
 
 He is not the same prosperous looking Perry whom we 
 looked in upon a few years ago, when he received the first 
 shock against the even tenor of his ways in the meeting 
 with the woman Mildred. Since that time Guy on has 
 crossed his path, his very presence a constant menace to 
 his peace of mind, not to speak of the dread lest it should 
 all come out at any moment, and he, the pious church 
 man, the prominent bank president, the acknowledged 
 leader at the Club and in the society of the elders, he 
 must don a felon s garb. With all this mental strain 
 upon him, with his intrigue to draw Guy on out of the 
 upper set in which he moved and consign him to a social 
 and moral oblivion from which he could never emerge, 
 his forces, both mental and physical, had been taxed to 
 such a degree, that he was, in every sense of the word, a 
 wreck. 
 
 Night after night he paced his chamber, or remained 
 in the library, performing the same measured tramp up 
 and down, until the concern and anxiety of Muriel were 
 aroused ; then, for the first time, she remarked his haggard
 
 AT BAT. 229 
 
 appearance, and besought him with all the warmth of her 
 loving nature to leave the city, to go abroad for awhile. 
 But nothing could induce him to leave the scene until the 
 phantom sword had vanished. 
 
 Then again, he had been brought home, not very long 
 ago, in fact about two weeks prior to the Brandon affair, 
 unconscious. A slight stroke of paralysis, the physician 
 pronounced it; but, although the household was alarmed. 
 Perry treated it very lightly, and was up and around in a 
 few days. His thoughts were running in a different 
 channel to-night. The appearance of Lord Eichleigh, 
 and his undisguised admiration for Miss Gordon, had sug 
 gested to his mind a. very excellent opportunity for get 
 ting this young encumbrance off his hands, and of rais 
 ing himself proportionately in society s esteem. 
 
 In fact, Lord Eichleigh had that very day called upon 
 him and made a formal declaration of his intentions 
 towards the young lady, requesting permission to make 
 the proper advances, all of which was readily conceded. 
 It was with the intention of conveying this information, 
 that he sent for his Ward, after having settled in his mind 
 as to how he would parley with her, supposing that she 
 had received the letter from Barclay. 
 
 "Your Father has just sent for me, dear," said Mabel, 
 peeping into her friend s boudoir. 
 
 "And Harold s just come ; so I can t go down with you. 
 I wonder what Papa wants? He didn t say anything 
 special at dinner, did he?" 
 
 "No. And Hastings says he must see me alone." 
 
 "You will ask his advice about the letter, dear, won t 
 you?" 
 
 "Certainly, and don t say anything about it to Harold 
 until I join you. You don t mind my coming in, this 
 once ?"
 
 230 A GENTLEMAN BORN. 
 
 "Not at all. We aren t engaged, you know." 
 
 "I must go now. I m so glad that Hal has come!" 
 With this remark she tripped lightly down stairs, and 
 having knocked at the library door, entered in response to 
 the given permission. 
 
 "You are wondering why I sent for, Mabel, I presume. 
 Sit down beside me, child here, where I can see you. 
 These lights are a trifle glaring, or my eye-sight isn t as 
 good as it used to be." 
 
 "I was somewhat puzzled to guess, sir, and I m dying 
 to know." 
 
 "Well, dear, you are my Ward, of course. That is 
 an unnecessary remark, but it will answer the purpose 
 of prelude as well as another. Your Father was a warm 
 friend of mine ; and in confiding your riches and ahem ! 
 yourself to my guardianship, he imparted a sacred trust, 
 in which. I hope, I have not failed up to this time." 
 
 "Indeed you have not. You have been just lovely to 
 mo, I have not wanted for anything nor made the slight 
 est request which you have not granted." 
 
 "That s all very well as far as it goes," he replied with 
 a deprecatory wave of his hand. "I would be a very poor 
 Christian, did I not conscientiously attend to my friend s 
 dying bequest. I myself must die some day," he added, 
 as though to give greater solemnity to his remarks. 
 
 "So must we all, sir; but you are far from that now, I 
 sincerely trust." 
 
 "Perhaps not as far as you imagine. However, it 
 was not my purpose to cloud your young, buoyant mind 
 with sinister forebodings. Coming to the point, I wish 
 to see you settled in life before I die." 
 
 "That is decidedly pointed," exclaimed Mabel, blushing 
 slightly, as the thought of what might be coming dawned 
 upon her.
 
 AT BAY. 231 
 
 "Among the many gentlemen you have met in New York, 
 during your sojourn with us, there certainly must be 
 one who possesses the requirements suited to your lofty 
 ideals." 
 
 "I don t know," Mabel murmured. 
 
 "You don t know ? Then, child, you must be extremely 
 difficult to please. Let us take, for example, Lord Rich- 
 leigh, a gentleman of noble lineage, handsome in appear 
 ance, wealthy. Can you desire more than that?" 
 
 "I was not aware that his Lordship was so deeply inter 
 ested in me, sir." 
 
 "Nor was I until to-day, although anyone might have 
 surmised as much from his devoted attention." 
 
 " Indeed !" 
 
 "Listen, Mabel ; what I have to say deserves your earnest 
 consideration. His Lordship called upon me to day, 
 and after declaring his intentions, asked my permission 
 to make formal request for your hand." 
 
 "Of course you gave your consent readily," said Mabel 
 quietly, looking her guardian full in the eyes. 
 
 "I gave it with the most heartfelt good will, knowing that 
 in bestowing your hand and your future happiness into 
 his keeping, I was performing the last of the sacred duties 
 which my position entails; and believing that he is most 
 worthy of your acceptance." 
 
 "But did it not dawn upon you, sir, that there might 
 be a possibility of my refusing him ?" 
 
 "Refuse Lord Eichleigh?" Perry exclaimed with a 
 touch of passion in his voice. "You are surely jesting. 
 You have allowed many advantageous offers to pass by, 
 I know, because of some idle sentiment, some foolish 
 whim; but now, a real English Lord, whom half the so 
 ciety girls are crazy over! Surely you are not in 
 earnest."
 
 232 A GENTLEMAN BORN. 
 
 "Never more serious in my life! I respect the gentle 
 man, I am pleased with his society but there must be 
 something more than all this, a higher, purer motive to 
 urge me to accept the man as my husband." 
 
 "Stuff and nonsense ! I suppose you mean love. Now 
 really, from a sensible girl, like yourself, such a state 
 ment is ridiculous in the extreme." 
 
 "Do you think so? Then I am sorry. I have given 
 my answer, sir, and let us consider the subject as 
 dropped." 
 
 "Do you intend to thwart me !" cried Perry, rising from 
 his chair in a great passion, which caused him to for 
 get for the moment his hypocritical acting. "Have a care, 
 Miss ! remember you are my Ward, and " 
 
 " And as such am prepared to follow your guidance to 
 any reasonable length; but you will also remember that 
 I have arrived at the legal age, and am now a free agent. 
 Pardon me," she continued, as Perry was about to inter 
 rupt her; "please don t be angry with me. I would really 
 do as you wish if I were able; and besides, remember 
 your ill-health. You should not needlessly excite your 
 self." 
 
 "If you were able!" Perry exclaimed hoarsely, sinking 
 into his chair. " That portends a previous attachment. 
 Will you favor me with the gentleman s name?" 
 
 "I have not admitted as much; nor do I see that it is 
 necessary for me to give a name which may have no more 
 weight with me than Lord Kichleigh s." 
 
 "It is Mr. Barclay, perhaps," said Perry; "after the 
 English nobleman, I know of none to whom I would more 
 readily give the preference." 
 
 "Do not mention the name of that man, sir !" exclaimed 
 Mabel, all the warmth of her Southern nature now fully 
 aroused. "He is a disgrace to society, a miserable cur
 
 AT BAT. 233 
 
 whom I would favor with a horse-whipping were I a 
 man." 
 
 "Ha, ha !" laughed Perry. "It is well for him that you 
 are not. What has he done of late to incur your gracious 
 displeasure ?" 
 
 "Done? Read this, and tell me what you think of it," 
 she said, handing Perry the letter she had received that 
 morning. 
 
 He read the epistle, and his countenance changed from 
 an expression of the deepest hate that was predominant 
 when he knew for a certainty that his plot had miscarried, 
 to one of fiery passion, which in turn was mastered by his 
 skilled diplomacy. It was with a look of half careless 
 merriment and sarcasm that he turned to his Ward. 
 
 "I don t quite understand your antagonism towards Bar 
 clay," he said. "He has done nothing more than a friend 
 would do whose interest is deeply centered in your welfare. 
 Still," he continued, taking up the letter again, as though 
 he were perusing it a second time, "I am at loss to know 
 how he could imagine that you cared for the man." 
 
 "Nor do I," she replied. "But, even taking that for 
 granted, do you not think that he has resorted to a most 
 despicable means? and with what end in view?" 
 
 "Possibly to gain your good will." 
 
 "He does not know me. He does not know how a South 
 ern girl can feel." 
 
 "Their sentiments are deep when the occasion arises," 
 ventured Perry. 
 
 "The nobility of their nature abhors trickery, such as 
 this." 
 
 "But, my dear, this is not trickery, as you call it. As 
 sume that you care for McCarty, which is nonsense, Bar 
 clay gives you conclusive proof of his degraded character." 
 
 "What you assume is not nonsense!" Mabel exclaimed,
 
 234 A GENTLEMAN BORN. 
 
 rising and standing now before her guardian. "I have 
 a deep regard for Mr. McCarty, and I believe him innocent 
 of these base charges." 
 
 "Ah, and this is the obstacle in the way of your ac 
 cepting Lord Richleigh s offer! Really, Miss Gordon, for 
 a young lady from Virginia, jour choice is simply re 
 markable." 
 
 "Then you believe all that is contained in the letter- 
 
 you " with a little sob "who I thought could believe 
 
 ill of no man! If my father were living, he would tell 
 me what to do." 
 
 "He would, I am confident, give you this advice, my 
 child. Think over the matter soberly to-night. Pray 
 the Heavenly Father for guidance, and to-morrow, you 
 will be prepared to accept Lord Richleigh when he calls." 
 
 "Never!" exclaimed Mabel, as she left the room, "I 
 shall never marry any man !" 
 
 She was about ascending the stairs to her own apartment, 
 there to have a good cry, for it all seemed more than she 
 could bear, when Esther s voice from the drawing-room 
 reminded her that Harold was there. He was Mr. Mc- 
 Carty s friend. She would listen to what he had to say, 
 and perhaps be guided by his counsel. 
 
 "We were afraid you would never come," cried Esther, 
 running over to greet her friend as she entered. "What 
 ever has happened, darling?" she whispered. "Has Papa 
 been cross ? He isn t well, you know, poor Papa !" 
 
 "It is nothing, love. I am a bit upset about the let 
 ter. I m so glad to see you, Harold/ she said to that 
 gentleman, who was standing, awaiting her approach. 
 "Are you two certain that you don t mind this interrup 
 tion?" 
 
 "Not in the least, Mabel ; I have been trying to come 
 to terms with this little Miss, but she will have nothing
 
 AT BAT. 235 
 
 but a quarrel upon the trivial cause of passing a day or so 
 without seeing her." 
 
 "You should be delighted that she thinks so .much of 
 you as to want to see you often." 
 
 "There you go, May ! I never said such a word ! He s 
 just horrid, that s all, and I ve a mind to send him away 
 for good and all." 
 
 "Now, I m going to play peacemaker between you," 
 said Miss Gordon, "and bind you together and to myself 
 with a subject more serious than the one you are wasting 
 words over." 
 
 "Oh, yes ! I had forgotten all about it. Do you know 
 Hal -" 
 
 "Yes, I know Hal, and he s just a horrid creature. " 
 
 "Peace, children! Now, Harold, read this letter. It 
 came to me this morning. I want to know what you 
 think of it." 
 
 "Think of it?" cried that young gentleman, who had 
 hastily devoured the contents, and made sure that the 
 handwriting was no forgery, "think of it Pardon me, I 
 must get my hat and leave at once." 
 
 "Where are you going?" asked the two young ladies, 
 rising at once and obstructing his path. 
 
 "I am going to shoot the cowardly rascal at sight, or 
 he ll shoot me. I ll challenge him no, I won t, I ll 
 
 horsewhip him! Guyon McCarty a ! Bah! He 
 
 dared not write that to me. He wrote to you, Miss Gordon, 
 and why, I wonder?" 
 
 "Just sit down like a sensible person, and talk it over," 
 said Esther. 
 
 "Oh, I m sensible enough! but I can t see through his 
 motive." 
 
 " Never mind that," murmured Mabel, with a pretty 
 blush. "I want to know if you believe it. You see, he 
 says he has proof."
 
 236 A GENTLEMAN BORN. 
 
 "He says that, does he? Well, I ll find him out and 
 make him show his proof. Do you really care so much 
 about this, Mabel ?" he said, turning suddenly toward that 
 young lady. 
 
 "Of course I care. Mr. McCarty has been in our society, 
 you introduced him first. You should know something 
 about his character. Then he has always appeared as 
 a perfect gentleman." 
 
 "That is all !" Harold muttered, as though speaking to 
 himself. 
 
 "What is all?" demanded Mabel. 
 
 "Oh, nothing I was just thinking. Yes, I am certainly 
 responsible for him, and I stake my life on his character 
 as a gentleman, one equal to the best in the land." 
 
 "Thank yon," replied Mabel quietly, giving him her 
 hand at the same time; while the depth of her gratitude 
 shone so plainly in her beautiful eyes, that Harold began 
 to think again, and was only awakened from his abstrac 
 tion by Esther saying: 
 
 "When do propose to look up Barclay ?" 
 
 "This very night ! I ll go to the Club now. You will 
 forgive me leaving so soon." 
 
 "Yes, Mabel is so anxious." 
 
 "Are you anxious, Mabel?" he asked. 
 
 "Yes, foolish boy, please go now, and let us hear from 
 you soon." 
 
 "I ll telephone when I shall have heard." 
 
 "No, no, come yourself," whispered Esther, as she bade 
 him good-night. 
 
 And Harold went out upon his quest with a feeling 
 in his heart which boded no good for Barclay if he should 
 come across him . "Ha, ha !" he thought, "here s luck for 
 Guy ! Shall I tell him ? But no, I m not certain. She s 
 anxious, well, that s an omen at least."
 
 MILDRED S STORY. 237 
 
 CHAPTER XXVII. 
 MILDRED S STORY. 
 
 FOR several days Guyon had been indulging in the fas 
 cinating illusions produced by the opium habit. During 
 all this time, the direful effects of the drug had steadily 
 told upon his once healthful constitution, until he became 
 a shadow of his former self. Still, with all the bitter 
 ness and remorse which came upon him in his lucid in 
 tervals, the memory of the blissful moments he enjoyed 
 while under the influence, impelled him on and on to the 
 point where it seemed he must lose even the one moral 
 restraint which held his nobler nature in check. 
 
 Dimples was ever his attendant. Her full beauty of 
 budding womanhood, enchanced by the magnificent cos 
 tumes she always donned to attract him, would surely have 
 captivated a weaker man; but thus far, although he was 
 lavish in his compliments, and had a true admiration 
 for the girl, the thought of Mabel Gordon, who haunted 
 his most delightful visions, precluded any sentiment of 
 love. 
 
 Barclay, too, was becoming anxious for the success of 
 his scheme. It was not enough for him that he gazed 
 upon his rival when the effects of the drug were upon him, 
 and saw his manly, robust frame wasting away, his hand 
 some countenance disfigured with certain marks of dis 
 sipation, and his eyes losing the fire of keen intelligence. 
 No, his complete ruin must be accomplished ! And that 
 speedily ; for he had learned from Perry Barringtonof the ill 
 success of his letter, and knew, almost for a certainty,
 
 238 A GENTLEMAN BORN. 
 
 that Miss Gordon had rejected the English nobleman be 
 cause of her devotion for Guyon. 
 
 One afternoon Guyon made his appearance at Cen 
 tral Park west, dragging himself with much effort up 
 the stairs to Dimples apartment, where she was await 
 ing his coming. 
 
 Everything ready for me? he asked, scarcely glancing 
 at her, and making his way to the Oriental room. 
 
 "No, Guy, not to-day," she answered softly, placing 
 herself before him. "You have been smoking too much; 
 really, you are in an awful condition." 
 
 "It is no matter," he replied hoarsely, grasping the back 
 of a chair to steady himself, as his limbs almost refused 
 to sustain his weight. "It s no matter. Stand aside, 
 please ! I must have the drug, I cannot live without it." 
 
 "Well, you shall; only sit down beside me for a few 
 moments. We haven t had a good talk in ever so long." 
 
 "I don t care to talk, but you are mistress here if you 
 will not give it to me now, I must wait;" and he almost 
 fell into an easy chair which Dimples rolled over to him. 
 his eyes closing, and his head dropping upon his breast, 
 while his face was ashy white. 
 
 "There, take this wine ! More ? I believe you are kill 
 ing yourself! Won t you have a biscuit with it?" 
 
 "Haven t eaten in two days!" replied Guyon, slightly 
 revived by the wine. 
 
 "Two days! Now, that s scandalous. Just a minute. 
 I ll have the nicest luncheon you ever tasted," and she 
 touched a bell summoning the maid to whom she gave the 
 directions for the spread. 
 
 "What ever is the matter with you, Guy? It cannot be 
 all because of the opium that you are so changed. I have 
 seen men and women, too, yes, and young girls, smoke 
 the drug, and it didn t effect them in this way,"
 
 MILDRED a STORY. 239 
 
 "Perhaps not ! No, the smoking doesn t cause the whole 
 of it. I m down, way down, and I don t care what be 
 comes of me; that s the truth!" 
 
 "Nonsense, you with all your wealth and youth, and the 
 world before you?" 
 
 "All that is nothing to me now." 
 
 "Come ! eat, drink and be merry ! See how quickly the 
 luncheon is served. You will talk in a different strain 
 when you have finished." 
 
 " Thanks for your kindness to me, Dimples," he said 
 warmly, after he had eaten with some show of appetite of 
 the delicate viands before him, and sipped a glass or two 
 of champagne ; "I believe I do feel better." 
 
 "Of course ! Do you remember the night when we were 
 all out together? Didn t we have a gay time?" 
 
 "Yes, as I recall it, we did." 
 
 "You didn t feel so low-spirited then ?" 
 
 "No." 
 
 "And didn t you say that you enjoyed it most of all 
 because I was with you?" 
 
 "Did I ? What else could I. say when you were the life 
 of the evening?" 
 
 "And our little supper, the first night you hit the pipe, 
 do you remember that?" 
 
 "Yes." 
 
 "And oo ittle baby Dimples," she said softly, putting 
 her arms around him and taking his hand in hers. "I 
 believe you actually kissed me then." 
 
 "How could I do otherwise? It reminded me so forci 
 bly of the old days when we were children together, when 
 I used to wheel you about in the little cart I made." 
 
 "Don t you think lots of me now, Guy?" 
 
 "Of course, I do ; you are almost the only friend I have. 
 I am not with the McCartys now, you know."
 
 240 -A- GENTLEMAN BORN. 
 
 "No, you haven t left them !" exclaimed Dimples, almost 
 stunned as she thought that he must be truly insane to 
 give up this one source of wealth. 
 
 "Yes, I took a vacation for a couple of weeks, and I 
 won t go back in this condition. Then there was Harold 
 Brandon, he was a great chum, but I haven t seen anything 
 of him for a long time." 
 
 "You don t want to see him, either?" 
 
 "No. I ve got a bit of a lodging somewhere. That s 
 while my money hangs out then I must look for work 
 if I am able." 
 
 "Come, cheer up ! take another glass, Guy ! You ve got 
 me ; I won t go back on you, see ? We can get along first 
 rate together, can t we?" 
 
 "On what?" 
 
 "Oh, you prosy fellow! on love, of course!" 
 
 "Love? you love me? No, that s too absurd, Dimples 
 Barclay has all your love, hasn t he?" 
 
 "Not a bit of it! Barclay don t count. He ain t in 
 it now; and I told him so." 
 
 "There must have been a scene," said Guyon, becoming 
 interested for the first time. 
 
 "Well, there was; but I don t care I only love you." 
 
 "So you said before ; and I think I told you that I hadn t 
 a whole heart to offer you, if I wished ; besides, I m a poor 
 man now, and you only care for riches, don t you. 
 honestly?" 
 
 "Yes, all girls do. I couldn t work if I tried and, 
 oh I I forgot to tell you till this moment. Do you know. 
 I ve found my Mother? She came here the other day after 
 you left. She told me lots about herself ; she was an actress 
 once, and of an excellent family. Aren t you glad?" 
 
 "Yes, for your sake, I am delighted. Why don t you 
 go and live witty tyer ?"
 
 MILDRED S STOUT. 241 
 
 "Live with her ? Not much ! she thinks I m married." 
 
 "Married to whom?" 
 
 "That don t matter, to you maybe." 
 
 "To me ? Great Heavens, Dimples ! this is playing too 
 serious a game. Surely you didn t deceive your Mother 
 just when you found her." 
 
 "Indeed I did. What was the use of worrying her when 
 she has troubles enough of her own? Do you know, she 
 wouldn t tell me who my Father is, and looked so sad 
 when 1 spoke of him." 
 
 "Did she perhaps she has cause. Poor Dimples," said 
 Guyon, with a toiich of honest sympathy, "both your 
 own and your mother s fortunes are cast in difficult paths, 
 I fear." 
 
 "And only you can help us, Guy. Please don t give 
 up your hold on the McCartys; they re so rich, you know 
 and one can do so much with money." 
 
 "With money and love? or love and money? I ll think 
 it over, Dimples. Bah ! the old longing is coming over 
 me please fix the pipe I must smoke this once, if I never 
 do again." 
 
 "Will you promise me to try to love me, dear ?" she asked 
 as she led the way to the room. 
 
 "If you only knew what you ask ! but this is no time for 
 love-making. The pipe ! the pipe !" he exclaimed, throwing 
 himself upon the couch, and grasping the stem when she had 
 filled it, with the avidity of an habitual drunkard seizing 
 the intoxicating glass. A few inhalations, and he was 
 under the influence. 
 
 Dimples stood there a moment watching him. "He 
 must love me," she murmured, "he must marry me ! After 
 all that I have said to him, after fairly begging his love 
 - if he don t then he shall feel what a woman s hatred is 
 when it is once aroused,"
 
 A GENTLEMAN BORN. 
 
 The period of unconsciousness was somewhat longer this 
 evening. His visions were not so brilliant, but they ap 
 peared in more realistic coloring, more tangible than any 
 which had yet visited him. He was just struggling in the 
 Sarkness, those after moments which he always dreaded, 
 when the sound of voices came to him, apparently from 
 two persons conversing in the outer apartment. He en 
 deavored to rise, but he was unequal to the task ; so he could 
 only lie there concealed from view, an unwilling listener 
 to the conversation. 
 
 "Yes, my poor child." he heard a woman s voice saying, 
 "since you ask me again, I will tell you the story of my 
 past life; but before I begin, I beg of you, don t judge 
 your mother too harshly. If I have sinned, God knows 
 how bitter has been my punishment, and how fully I have 
 repented." 
 
 "Is it as bad as that, Mother?" he heard Dimples voice 
 questioning. 
 
 "Yes, child. I was once, like yourself, young, beautiful 
 and attractive. I had a good home and parents who idol 
 ized me, their only daughter. From my early years I had 
 a passion for the stage; and when my Father, who was 
 a minister, heard of my desire, he bade me not think of 
 it sent me to a seminary for young ladies in a remote 
 country place, away from all life and gaiety. Imagine 
 yourself immured in such a school, with girls whose nar 
 row, prejudiced minds were a constant source of irrita 
 tion to me. Well, I did not remain there long. I ran 
 away when the first opportunity presented itself, and 
 sought the manager of a theatrical company which was 
 appearing in a neighboring town. Something in my ap 
 pearance must have attracted him; for he engaged me at 
 once to play a minor part, in which, even, I was to be 
 an understudy. From my first appearance on the stage, I
 
 MILDRED* 3 STORY. 243 
 
 felt that I was in my proper sphere. Success favored 
 me ; and I rose to be one of the leading ladies in the com 
 pany. 
 
 "We were playing in this city at the time, and it was here 
 I met your Father. He was considerably older than I, 
 a man of commanding appearance, and whose wealth 
 seemed boundless. He admired me from the first time he 
 witnessed my performance. Sent me flowers, invited me 
 to swell suppers where wine flowed like water, made me 
 presents of jewels and money, and visited my rooms fre 
 quently. I, foolish girl that I was, believed that he was 
 madly in love with me, that he would make me his wife, 
 as he surely promised. Then came the time when you 
 were born. My love for him was only mirrored in you. 
 I pleaded with him to fulfill his promise; but he showed 
 for the first time his devilish nature. He scorned 
 me, bade me put you away if I would have him con 
 tinue the allowance he had settled upon me. During two 
 years I withstood his wrath; and then, in a moment of 
 weakness, I yielded parted from you, my own darling, 
 one cold December night, leaving you under the arches of 
 the Brooklyn Bridge, with a prayer in my heart that, if it 
 were God s will, He might take you to Himself, since I 
 might not care for you. It was a cruel, wicked deed ; and 
 the sorrow it caused me well-nigh drove me to acts of 
 violence upon myself, as I have already told you/ 
 
 "Little by little, I drifted from the stage. My trouble 
 was so great that I could not sustain the parts I was called 
 upon to act; and the fickle public, which had once raved 
 over me, jeered and laughed me to scorn when I failed 
 utterly in my lines. In this condition, I called upon 
 your Father one day at his office. Never will I forget the 
 meeting. It had been a long time since I saw him then,
 
 244 A GENTLEMAN BORN. 
 
 and this was the last. Never shall I set my eyes upon him 
 again until we appear hefore the great just Judge." 
 
 " Poor Mother!" said Dimples. "Did he treat yo-i so 
 badly after all your love for him?" 
 
 "Treat me badly? He reviled me, laughed at me vhen 
 I threatened to expose his villainy to his family, to the 
 Church of which he is a prominent member, and to so 
 ciety in which he is a leading figure." 
 
 "He did this!" cried Dimples, in a rage; "he dared to 
 insult you? And what did you say to him?" 
 
 "I, what could I say? When he spurned my one last 
 supplication and replied to my appeal with coarse sarcasm. 
 I cursed him ; and I said that my wrong would be visited 
 upon his head with double, yes, triple measure." 
 
 "His name, his name !" cried Dimples wildly. 
 
 "His name, child, one which is most respected, and 
 which a woman all too noble for him bears, and a daugh 
 ter, too, not much older than yourself, is Perry Barring- 
 ton."
 
 IN VIRTUE S CAUSE. 245 
 
 CHAPTER XXVIII. 
 IN VIRTUE S CAUSE. 
 
 a word of this sad recital escaped Guyon. At 
 times, it seemed as though he were still under the influ 
 ence of the opium, and that what he heard was connected 
 with some fatal scene in his life; then came the enuncia 
 tion of that name Perry Barrington, the guardian of the 
 object of his affections. With almost superhuman effort, 
 he arose from the couch, and without a word of warning, 
 appeared before the women in the drawing-room as some 
 awful spectre, pale with the color of death, his eyes sunken 
 and hollow. 
 
 Mildred uttered a scream of affright, at which Dimples 
 laughed, and beckoned Guyon to approach. 
 
 "This is no ghost, Mother. It is only my friend, Mr. 
 McCarty." 
 
 "Your friend?" said Mildred, "I am pleased to meet 
 you, sir, if you are truly a friend to my daughter. * 
 
 "Why, certainly he is, Mother. He saved me the very 
 night you abandoned me." 
 
 "He saved you? Impossible! he must have been but a 
 child himself at that time." 
 
 "That is true, Madam, I was; but it is likewise a fact 
 that another boy and myself found your daughter. And 
 now that we are acquainted, permit me to beg your pardon 
 for my intrusion. I I am not well. I was reclining 
 on a couch in an adjoining room, and unwillingly heard
 
 246 A GENTLEMAN BORN. 
 
 your sad story. It was only upon the mention of that 
 name that I summoned what little strength I possess to 
 make my presence known to you." 
 
 "Your apology is scarcely needed, sir. I feel that I 
 can trust you. In fact I am certain that I can, since 
 it was through your instrumentality that I am permitted 
 to embrace my child again. Do you know this man. who 
 has played such havoc with my life?" 
 
 "Know him? Yes, I have met him socially at his 
 home and elsewhere. I can assure you, I am at a loss 
 to account for the seeming duplicity of his life. No 
 one in this city possesses a name further removed from 
 reproach than he." 
 
 "Still, it is so," replied Mildred. "I am willing to repeat 
 what I have said under the most solemn oath. God above is 
 the witness to the truth of my statement." 
 
 Strange!" thought Guyon, "Dimples, Barrington s 
 child, only a year or so younger than his daughter Esther ;" 
 then aloud: " What a terrible shock it will be to his 
 family if this is made public." 
 
 "You must respect my secret, at least for the present," 
 said Mildred. "Although I loathe the man, and my curse 
 rests upon him, I would not have my injuries visited upon 
 the innocent." 
 
 "I think you are very foolish in that, Mother," broke 
 in Dimples a little impatiently. "Supposing he should 
 die without making any provision for me ? We could make 
 him do that, I think." 
 
 "I had not considered that part. You may go to him 
 if you wish, dearest; but I warn you, your reception will 
 not be the most pleasant." 
 
 "Oh, leave that to me ! I think that I can manage him, 
 if I try." 
 
 "God grant that he may not injure you, dear. He is a
 
 IN VIRTUE S CAUSE. 247 
 
 passionate man, when aroused. Now, I must leave you. 
 I have a matter of business calling me away." 
 
 "So soon, Mother? Why, you have made only a short 
 call/ said Dimples, rising and assisting her Mother with 
 her wraps. 
 
 "It may seem so ; but I have been here nearly two hours. 
 You do not wish me to remain because of your friend," 
 she whispered. 
 
 "Oh, dear no! Guy and I were tots together, and are 
 like brother and sister now, you know." 
 
 "I am delighted that you have a good friend as well as 
 a good husband. Come to me at any time, darling !" Then 
 to Guyon "I trust that I shall see you again, sir. If I 
 do not, my earnest prayer shall be for your welfare, that 
 you may become well and strong. I can never forget 
 what you have done for my daughter and for me." 
 
 "Isn t she a dear?" asked Dimples, after her Mother s 
 departure. "And to think of all she has suffered because 
 of that man Ugh ! I could kill him !" 
 
 "He will meet his punishment sooner or later, believe 
 me, Dimples, unless everything is going wrong in the 
 world." 
 
 "Heigho ! heigho ! let s think of something more pleasant. 
 Have a glass of wine with me. dear? Then you can lie 
 on the couch here, and I will sit beside you. To our 
 closer friendship !" she said, raising the glass to her lips. 
 
 "To your beauty !" he replied gallantly, as his eyes met 
 hers. "This is comfortable," he said, throwing himself 
 upon the softest of cushions, where there was just room 
 enough for Dimples to sit at his side. 
 
 "Would you like me to sing a bit of a French song I 
 learned when I first went on the stage?" 
 
 "Good ! You won t mind if I close my eyes while you are 
 singing it?"
 
 248 A GENTLEMAN BORN. 
 
 "Close your eyes while mine are looking into yours ? For 
 shame, Guy dear! Is my beauty growing tiresome?" 
 
 "No, not that I I don t think the effects of the 
 last pipe are all gone; then, the strange story I ve 
 heard " 
 
 "Bother the story !" Dimples said, as she poured out more 
 wine in a glass, and, drinking a part of it, said : "Here, 
 don t you want a drink out of my glass ? Not there ! my 
 lips have touched it on this side." 
 
 "And your song !" Guyon murmured dreamily. 
 
 "Oh, yes. Now, try to look right into my eyes while 
 I sing. I won t hypnotize you don t be afraid ;" and she 
 sang in a soft low tone : 
 
 "Dc quoi puis-je avoir en-vie, 
 De quoi puis-je, avoir effroi, 
 Que ferai-je de la vie, 
 Si tu n es plus pr6s moi; 
 Que veux-te que je de vienne, 
 Si je n entends plus ton pas, 
 Est-ce ta vie ou ia mienne " 
 
 "Ha ! ha ! Mr. Harold, I think this is sufficient proof of 
 what my letter divulged !" exclaimed Barclay, entering the 
 room at that moment accompanied by Harold Brandon. 
 "Here is your friend, Mr. McCarty, in a rather strange 
 situation ah6m ! don t you think so ?" 
 
 Harold stood at the door, as though hesitating whether 
 to retreat or advance. It was certainly a critical moment 
 in Guyon s life. Dimples, at the entrance of the gentlemen 
 had stopped short in her song, and rising from the 
 couch, stood now, not at all abashed, glancing defiantly 
 from one to the other. 
 
 "Well, are you satisfied ?" continued Barclay. "Here is the 
 evidence. This young person, whom I cannot introduce 
 to you, will probably corroborate my assertion of your
 
 IN VIRTUE* 8 CAUSE. 249 
 
 friend s ( ?) rather luxurious pastimes during the last few 
 weeks." 
 
 "Is this really true? Young woman," queried Harold, not 
 advancing a step nearer to the couch, "are you Mr. Mc- 
 Carty s Mistress ? Speak, in Heaven s name!" 
 
 "Sir, it is a lie ! This bringing you here is but a part 
 of a cleverly laid plot, which this man contrived, to ruin 
 my friend s good name. Mr. McCarty has been smoking 
 opium. He was brought here first by Barclay. He con 
 tracted the habit, and is now, from its effects, the wreck 
 you behold. Otherwise, he is as good a man, maybe better, 
 than you yourself." 
 
 "You call yourself his friend. How do you come by 
 that title?" 
 
 "Hal, this is Dimples, whose early history I have told 
 you." 
 
 "Oh, I was not aware that your friend had made his 
 amours known to you before, Mr. Brandon." 
 
 "Silence, wretch ! It s false, false as hell !" cried Guyon, 
 endeavoring to rise from the couch, only to fall back 
 again exhausted. "Hal, you remember me speaking of the 
 baby girl whom Biglin and I found when I was a small 
 lad? This is she." 
 
 "Is it really true, Miss Dimples," said Harold, approach 
 ing now and holding out his hand, while she withheld hers 
 for a moment. 
 
 "Do you believe what I have said?" she asked. "Do you 
 believe that Guy s name is not tarnished?" 
 
 "As God is my Judge, I do," replied Harold solemnly. 
 "He was brought to your apartments by Barclay, you say ; 
 you were wrong in encouraging him to smoke the drug." 
 
 "I know that now ; but Barclay obliged me to become his 
 tool in this disreputable business, promising me that, if 
 we succeeded, he would marry me."
 
 250 A GENTLEMAN BORN. 
 
 "And you believed him!" 
 
 "At first I did but, oh, I cannot tell you all I have 
 just found my Mother, sir. I have learned the story 
 of her bitter wrongs, and I love her. Guy on saved my life ! 
 How could I sacrifice him after that?" 
 
 "You dare say all this, you !" hissed Barclay ; "you 
 
 shall repent of it to your last hour !" 
 
 "Silence, wretch !" cried Harold. "You have committed 
 one of the most heinous crimes man can be guilty of. Deep 
 in your hatred for this man, who has never wittingly in 
 jured you, you have contrived to basely slander his good 
 name, to lower his character to a level with your own; 
 and as your instrument, forsooth, you have used this young 
 girl, once innocent and free as the summer breezes; but. 
 by your dastardly conduct reduced to a pitiful condi 
 tion. These crimes I am prepared to avenge. Speak ; 
 base creature! confess the motive of your plot or I will 
 shoot you, so help me God !" 
 
 "Harold, Harold, don t do that!" cried Guyon, rising 
 again with an effort, and struggling to his friend s <de. 
 "Don t, for my sake." 
 
 "Guyon, are you mad ? You don t know me you don t 
 know half that he has attempted against your good name. 
 Why do you suppose I am here? How did I obtain 
 the information ? From a lady whose pure name I would 
 not breathe in this atmosphere. From her, and from an 
 infamous letter he wrote concerning you." 
 
 "I see it all !" Guyon exclaimed. "My God, how horrible ! 
 There is nothing left for me now." 
 
 "Be quick, Barclay !" cried Harold, "your moments are 
 numbered. If, before I count three, you do not confess, 
 you are a dead man." 
 
 "Work your will, I am at your mercy," replied Barclay, 
 all show of bravado gone from him now. "What my ob-
 
 IN VIRTUE S CAUSE. 251 
 
 ject was in degrading this man, I refuse to tell; but if 
 you act with any justice, you must include in your 
 vengeance another who instigated the plot, and at whose 
 suggestion, I carried it out." 
 
 "His name/ hissed Guyon. 
 
 "His name !" thundered Harold. 
 
 "Perry Barrington." 
 
 "It s false. I cannot believe it," said Harold. 
 
 "Very well, believe it or not, it matters little to me. 
 What have I to gain by implicating him in this? His 
 anger, and the loss of all my chances to the hand of 
 his Ward." 
 
 "Ah ! the motive for it all dawns upon me," said Harold. 
 "You two conspired to heap odium upon this gentleman s 
 name and character in the hope that he might be ousted 
 out of your way. Why did you not kill him at oncer" 
 
 "Oh, we leave that to such polished gentlemen as you," 
 Barcla3 r retorted. 
 
 "Silence ! I will spare your life. It were too dishonor 
 able in me to soil my hands with such blood as yours." 
 
 "Bad as it is, your fine friend here, cannot boast of 
 better, I presume." 
 
 "Let us go, Harold," said Guyon. "I cannot bear these 
 insults in my shattered state. When I shall have re 
 covered, villain, I promise you a horse-whipping such as 
 man never received, though I have to follow you to the 
 end of the earth to administer it." 
 
 "I shall be delighted to meet you anywhere at any time. 
 Mr. Nobody from Nowhere." 
 
 Harold and Guyon descended the stairway; he leaning 
 upon his friend for support. When they had reached 
 the street, the cold, brisk air somewhat revived him; ;nd. 
 as the were entering the coach, which was waiting, Harold 
 asked whither he wished to go.
 
 252 A GENTLEMAN BORN. 
 
 "To my lodgings, Hal; there is no other place for me 
 st present/ 
 
 "Your lodgings? Where in Heaven s name are thfcv?" 
 
 "A little attic room on Charles Street." 
 
 "Tell me how this has come about?" said Harol 1 as 
 they were driving to the above location. "Are your finances 
 so low that you are obliged to live in poverty? ilave 
 you left the kind old Contractor ?" 
 
 Then Guyon told the story, how he had become more 
 than ever dejected after the night at his house ; of his leav 
 ing home for a vacation, his meeting with Barclay, his 
 first experience at opium smoking, and how the h:ibit 
 gradually grew upon him, leaving him in his present ton- 
 dition. 
 
 "You see, Hal, I hadn t much money when I started 
 out; then, living at the Club is pretty expensive; avid I 
 found at the end of a week that I must curtail some 
 where, or I would be out on the streets again. So. the 
 only thing left was to secure a cheap lodging. It s not 
 much of a place after what I ve been used to all these 
 years, but it s away ahead of what I had when I W..R a 
 little fellow," he concluded with an attempt at a 
 smile. 
 
 "Do you know, Guy, I m half inclined to be angry with 
 you. What has become of all my advice to you about 
 giving way to those melancholy moods? And whit is 
 left of our friendship? Was it so completely annihilated 
 that you could not come to me in your extremity?" 
 
 "Go to you when I was a prey to the opium? You 
 would have dissuaded me from its use, as most probably 
 you will now. I could not have lived without it then. 
 Why, the visions were all that made life worth living." 
 
 "Shall I tell him now the glad tidings?" thought Har-
 
 IN VIRTUE S CAUSE. 253 
 
 old, "No, if I were only certain but they might only 
 arouse a hope which would be destined to be blighted." 
 
 Ms this the place?" he asked, as the coach stopped be 
 fore an ancient frame building which had been a irood 
 living place in its time, some fifty years ago, but was now 
 falling to decay. 
 
 "Yes. Do you want to come up ? I think I can manage 
 all right, the mistress of the house is kind to me." 
 
 "Nonsense ! I am here, and shall remain with you until 
 you are in a condition to go home. Come on ! You need 
 not wait, James," he said to his coachman. "Tell the 
 Madam that I will telephone if I am detained." 
 
 And he entered Guyon s temporary abode, climbing with 
 him three nights of rickety stairs, until they arrivid at 
 last at what had once been an attic store-room, where, the 
 bare rafters showed inhospitably above, and one small win 
 dow at one end of the place, gave an unsufficient light. 
 A cot, a small table, a chair and an old stove in which a 
 smaller fire endeavored to burn, was all the furniture the 
 room boasted of. 
 
 "You are welcome to Guyon s flat/ " said Guy. "Take 
 a seat if you please ;" and he threw himself upon the bed, 
 shivering with the cold. 
 
 "You see, Guy, there s not one particle of sense 
 in all this," said Harold, after he had procured odd 
 comforts in the shape of a roaring fire and a pair of olean 
 blankets. "I have tried to make you a bit more Com 
 fortable, and now 1 want you to divert your thovghts 
 into a more pleasant channel." 
 
 "It s no use, Hal. You are far too kind, I know, think 
 ing always of me I don t deserve such treatment ! Why 
 don t you leave me!" 
 
 "Leave you? Never! Cheer up, Guy, I ve great news 
 for you. It was in my mind to tell you when we were
 
 254 A GENTLEMAN BORN. 
 
 driving here from that accursed place; but I considered 
 it better not to reveal it then perhaps I am wrong in 
 doing so now; however, in your state, I feel that good 
 news is the best medicine." 
 
 "Have you really heard anything? In pity, tell me, 
 Hal, don t keep me longer in suspense. Has Biglin learned 
 of my parents?" 
 
 "No, Guy, it isn t that. It s better, even, perhaps. 
 Are vou strong enough to hear what your heart yearns 
 for? 
 
 "I don t believe it can be as good as that, Hal ! No, 
 spare me, if you are truly my friend ! Don t torture me 
 with vain hopes!" 
 
 "It s only the faintest glimmer of a gleam, old fellow; 
 yet who knows but that the ray may portend the dawn 
 of truest happiness?"
 
 SIFTS IN THE CLOUDS. 255 
 
 CHAPTER XXIX. 
 
 EIFTS I3ST THE CLOUDS. 
 
 "Our with it, Hal! I feel immensely better already, 
 since you have spoken those words. Perhaps, as you say, 
 it is a rift in the perpetual clouds which have darkened 
 my life so far at least, God grant that it may be so!" 
 
 "What I have to say is simply this. You remember 
 my speaking of the letter Barclay sent to Miss Gordon." 
 
 "All too well ! His plans were cleverly laid, and I can 
 not imagine how they miscarried." 
 
 "Through no fault of his or of Barrington s either, if 
 we may believe him." 
 
 "What can Mr. Barrington have against me?" 
 
 "Nothing that I can surmise, except, as I said before, 
 that he feared you would enter the race for his Ward s 
 hand." 
 
 "I never told you of meeting him one afternoon at New 
 port, and of the glance of hatred he gave me ?" 
 
 "No; is that possible? What had you done to him 
 then ?" 
 
 "No injury that I am aware of. He was driving along 
 the road to Beaucliff, when I appeared suddenly. His 
 horses shied, and he raised his whip as though to cut me 
 with the lash; then, seeing that it was I, his countenance 
 assumed a look of deadliest hatred." 
 
 "Maybe you only imagined it, Guy. Let us forget the 
 incident for the present. You can settle it with him
 
 256 A GENTLEMAN BORb. 
 
 together with the other score when you pay your respects 
 to him." 
 
 "And the letter, Hal, you were at the Barrington man 
 sion when it arrived?" 
 
 "No, I chanced to call that evening. Miss Gordon came 
 into the drawing-room from an interview with her 
 guardian. I can tell you, I never saw her so much affected. 
 She did not tell us what had transpired; but showed me 
 the letter, and asked what I thought of it." 
 
 "You did not think that I could have fallen so low." 
 
 "I? No, indeed. I was mighty wroth; and if Barclay 
 had been around, his chances of escape would have been 
 small. Well, it would have done your heart good to have 
 heard her eulogies (?) of Barclay, and what she said of 
 another gentleman, whose name it is not necessary to men 
 tion." 
 
 "She did not believe it?" 
 
 "Not for a moment ! My red-hot manner, my losing my 
 head over it, only served to intensify her feeling." 
 
 "Is that all, Hal?" 
 
 "All? What more would you have? Could the young 
 lady declare to me that she loved you, and desired me to 
 champion your cause for that reason?" 
 
 "No, she could not do that. The very fact that she 
 trusts me, is much more than I expected. If I had only 
 known before that she cared never so little for me, I should 
 have been saved all this misery and self-degradation." 
 
 "Yes; but you have not gone too far yet. Come away 
 with me for a few weeks ; leave all the past behind ! Let 
 me see we might take a trip to Lakewood. I happen to 
 know of an excellent place there, where we can put up. 
 You will return a new man, prepared to seek the object 
 of your devotion, and enter into new projects for the future 
 with a mighty zeal,"
 
 RIFTS IN THE CLOUDS, 257 
 
 "That is best, I suppose; but I have no funds; besides, 
 my vacation is completed, and the good old contractor will 
 be looking for me." 
 
 "Leave all that in my hands. I shall become your 
 banker for a short time, and will enjoy the outing im 
 mensely. I will call at the McCarty residence, and ex 
 plain that you require an extended leave of absence." 
 
 "Again you overwhelm me with kindness, my dear fel 
 low," Guy on exclaimed, grasping his friend s hand warmly. 
 
 After a little more conversation, in which some minor 
 incidentals relative to the outing were discussed, Harold 
 left, promising to return the following morning, when he 
 expected to find his chum prepared to bid adieu to his 
 humble abode. 
 
 So Guyon went to Lakewood. The exhilarating atmos 
 phere of this charming resort, even in winter, could not 
 fail to prove beneficial to his shattered health. He had 
 an object to live for now; and his buoyant spirits rose 
 in proportion as his bodily vigor returned. 
 
 There were times when the craving for the opium came 
 strong upon him, and he begged Harold to procure it; 
 but a word of gentle remonstrance, or a reminder of his 
 purpose, served to strengthen his will power and gain 
 complete victory in the end. After two weeks, he was able 
 to go about, taking long walks among the picturesque 
 scenes, grand in their winter coloring. Then, his step 
 became firmer, and a ruddy hue of health replaced the 
 ghastly pallor. His eyes, too, regained their wonted 
 brightness, and shone now with a new, peculiar expression, 
 telling the peace that was fast spreading over his soul. 
 
 His return to the McCarty home was a cause of much 
 joy to the good old gentleman, while Mrs. McCarty was 
 unstinted in praise of Harold, when she learned how he 
 had cared for Guyon. Nothing would do but he must,
 
 258 A GENTLEMAN BORN. 
 
 at least, pass one evening with them; although he was 
 anxious to visit Esther, and relate the fuller details of 
 Guy on s recovery. 
 
 "Faith, ye hasn t been in me house in a long time, an 
 we "re wantin ter thank ye fer phwat ye ve done fer me 
 b y, though we ain t great at entertainin like yere folks. 
 at all." 
 
 "John !" the Missus cried, with a killing glance. 
 
 "That settles it, Mrs. McCarty," Harold replied, hastily 
 coming to the old gentleman s rescue. "I will stay a 
 little while; but you must remember that my own people 
 and my friends haven t seen me in ages." 
 
 "An yer swateheart, maybe it is, b y out wid it now! 
 an don t be ashamed at all." 
 
 "You would make an excellent Yankee, sir, guessing 
 my secret so well. Yes, I am pining to see her." 
 
 "An Guy here, wastin all his time wid findin out his 
 folks, an niver lookin a gerrnl in the face. Bad cess ter 
 him ! Whin I wus his age, I had as many swatehearts as I 
 cud shake a stick at." 
 
 "John, you are exaggerating! you know it is not so;" 
 Mrs. McCarty .interrupted. 
 
 "Can t ye take a bit of a joke, Mary? But es I wus 
 sayin , Mr. Brandon, can t ye hunt up a swateheart fer 
 Guy, I dunno ?" 
 
 "I think that he is capable of hunting one up for him 
 self. How about it, Guy?" 
 
 "Doubtless. Only I cannot see why you should be so 
 anxious to get me out of the way, Dad; for when I am 
 married, I shall have to leave you." 
 
 "Divil a bit of a lave it ll be! Even the Missus 
 wouldn t mind havin a trim little lass bossin her, would 
 ye now, Mary?" 
 
 "I think it proper for young married people to leave
 
 RIFTS IN THE CLOUDS. 259 
 
 the old parent nest," replied the Missus, with a touch of 
 asperity which boded no good to any "young lass" who 
 should attempt to dispute her sovereignty. 
 
 "Be gad, we ll say no more about it, thin ; only, now that 
 I think of it, an I dunno phwat put the gerruls in me 
 head an that very thing out of it there s a letter- some- 
 phwere here fer ye, Guy, addressed in a lady s hand. 
 Phwere is it now, Mary?" 
 
 "You are always fretting about something. Why can t 
 you let Guyon and his friend enjoy the evening? To 
 morrow will do for the letter." 
 
 "I would like very much to have it now, if it isn t too 
 much trouble," said Guyon, thinking that it was just barely 
 possible that the missive might be from Miss Gordon, per 
 haps an invitation to call upon her then rejecting the 
 idea almost as it came. 
 
 "See, now! he s wide awake after all, is Guy he s not 
 so slow a lad now don t blush, me b y, there s no harm 
 in havin a gerrul write ter ye." 
 
 When the letter was produced, Guyon inspected the 
 writing of the address, and handed it to Harold for his 
 opinion; but he also was in the dark as to who could be 
 the sender. 
 
 "Break the seal and read the contents, that s the easiest 
 way," he advised. 
 
 Guyon opened the missive, and read the lines hastily; 
 while an expression of disgust came over his countenance. 
 It was from Dimples, who, after recalling how she had 
 incurred Barclay s anger in his cause by reason of her 
 deep affection for him, requested him to call upon her any 
 afternoon, as she wished to discuss with him some plan for 
 the future, adding that she was now living with her 
 Mother. 
 
 "Do you mind, Mother, if T take Harold up to my room
 
 260 A GENTLEMAN BORN. 
 
 for a few moments?" Guyon asked. "This is something 
 upon which I require his advice." 
 
 "Why not go into me din there? It s convainent, an 
 I ll dhrop in fer a bit of a smoke, if ye don t mind." 
 
 "I will excuse you if it is necessary, Guy; but don t 
 be too long, that s a good fellow; and, if the business 
 is of a private nature, you will not want your Father smok 
 ing in there with you." 
 
 "We ll only be a moment, Dad awfully sorry I can t 
 help you out this time," he whispered, as he passed where 
 the old contractor was sitting, scowling at his better 
 half, but not daring to offer a remonstrance. 
 
 "It s from the girl, Dimples," Guyon said, when Harold 
 and he were seated in the "den." "Read it, and tell me 
 what I shall do." 
 
 "She s dead gone on you, Guy, for a fact," was his 
 friend s comment. "I wish you had followed my ad 
 vice when I told you not to seek her. You remember, I 
 warned you that no good would come of it." 
 
 "I do not see that so clearly," Guyon replied. "Have I 
 not been the real cause of her leaving Barclay, and going 
 to live with her Mother, who is now a respectable woman ?" 
 . "Barrington s former mistress, and this Dimples his 
 child did you not tell me this? Then, she has un 
 doubtedly inherited some traits of his character," said 
 Harold musingly. 
 
 "Probably. Who would have thought that it would 
 all turn out this way when I was so interested in her as 
 a child!" 
 
 "Stranger things than that happen. Poor girl ! she has 
 had a hard time of it, no doubt. It is not so wonderful 
 that she drifted into vicious courses, alone, and without 
 a mother s counsel and guiding care, without even tne 
 teachings of religion to save her."
 
 RIFTS IN THE CLOUDS. 261 
 
 "True, Hal ; but how about the letter ? Dad and Mother 
 will be impatient if we do not return soon." 
 "Can you withstand her blandishments, for her future 
 plan will amount to something like that?" 
 
 "I have already heard a great deal of her love-making 
 while I was mentally in a weaker state than I am now, and 
 when it seemed to me that it might be as well if I did 
 marry her, seeing that all other hope was gone." 
 
 "It is different now, my boy." 
 
 "Yes, it certainly is." 
 
 "This is my advice, take it for what it is worth. If you 
 visit the demoiselle you will come away with the most un 
 pleasant sensations. Incensed at your having rejected her 
 love, she will either call down the maledictions of Heaven 
 on your head, or in some way make it so warm for you 
 lhat you will wish that you had not gone. Write a letter, 
 make it clear and final. Tell her that you have taken 
 a new lease of existence, with the hope of winning one 
 who alone can fill your heart s affections, or something 
 in that strain." 
 
 "I think, after all, that will be the best course to pursue, 
 Hal. I shall make such a composition as will freeze the 
 most torrid passion."
 
 262 A GENTLEMAN BORN. 
 
 CHAPTER XXX. 
 
 PIETKO CONFESSES. 
 
 THE following evening, Guyon drove to the Club, armed, 
 with a stout riding- whip. He had blood in his eye 
 figuratively speaking, and he sought George Barclay with 
 a two-fold purpose in view of denouncing him beforo the 
 members as a scoundrel, and lashing him as a cur. 
 
 "There s a man waiting for you, sir," said the porter, 
 as he entered. 
 
 "Who is he?" queried Guyon. "Is he a member?" 
 
 "No, sir, he s a workingman, rather tough, begging 
 your pardon, he said he was a friend ; and, although I 
 told him you hadn t been here in some time, and would 
 not be in to-night, he would wait." 
 
 "Is he in the reception-room?" 
 
 "Yes, sir." 
 
 "Hello, Guy! Hully gee! It s es good es a circus ter 
 see youse agin," said a voice as Guyon entered the room. 
 
 "What, Biglin, you here !" Guyon exclaimed. 
 
 "It s mesel , an no fake, Guy. I se a long string ter 
 gie yer, ef youse wants ter hear it, see ?" 
 
 "Come up to my room. Of course I want to hear all 
 you have to say, especially if it interests me." 
 
 "Youse is de funniest mug I ever seed," Biglin resumed, 
 when they were seated in Guyon s room. "Here I se been 
 a chasin mesel roun fer two or tree weeks ater yer, an 
 no un know*d nothin bout youse, cept dat yer d flew de 
 coop."
 
 PIBTRO CONFESSES. 263 
 
 "I wasn t well. Had to take an outing. Had you good 
 news?" 
 
 "Dat s right. course it s good, er youse wudn t be 
 settin yer peepers on me now." 
 
 "Out with it, Biglin!" 
 
 "Well, youse followin me since I lef youse dat night 
 wid de plunks. An maybe youse tonght I blowed it in; 
 but I didn t. De fac wus dis, see? De Dago got way 
 from me, wid all me showin me han . Hully gee ! he s a 
 corker, no use talkin ." 
 
 "How did you find him at last?" asked Guyon, a little 
 impatiently. 
 
 "I didn t do a ting but lay roun , waitin fer im; fer 
 T Icnow d he d cum back ter de Dago hangout. So, one night 
 I nails im ; an yer ought er seed im when I got de nippers 
 on. He jes show d is crunchers, an sed, sez e, Tm-,i 
 glad-a ter see yous-a, Mister! An* sez I, I m glad ter 
 see yer kickin agin, fer I heard as dey d planted yer/ Den 
 I show d me han agin, an axed im wot e d do fer do 
 plunks. E bid way up; so I seed dere wus anoder playin 
 at de game, an* I bid up aginst im. Den de Dago gied 
 me de string. Youse kin take it fer wot it s wort." 
 
 "He knew about my parents?" 
 
 "He know d bout yer mudder, an de swell bloke wot 
 gied im de plunkers ter take youse way." 
 
 "Are you certain of that, Biglin. Did he tell you his 
 name ?" 
 
 "Cert ! Wot d ye take me fer? A farmer, ter bid in 
 fer de trays when I cud cotch de Jack-pot?" 
 
 "What was the name?" asked Guyon, who was now 
 laboring under the most intense excitement. 
 
 "It was jes Barrin ton, Perry I tink wus wot e called 
 im." 
 
 "Great God! Again! For the third time this name
 
 264 A GENTLEMAN BORN. 
 
 has been mentioned to me in connection with dastardly 
 deeds!" cried Guyon. "But now, this last he the cause 
 of all my misfortune? It is incredible. I must see the 
 Italian myself, Biglin." 
 
 "Nothin easier," replied the man, regarding his 
 friend coolly. "Only youse don t tink I m giein yer a 
 fairy tale fer fair, Guy?" 
 
 "No, old fellow ! not for the world would I doubt you," 
 Guyon said, as he grasped Biglin s hand. "You have 
 proved yourself the truest of friends in ferreting out this 
 matter for me when there did not seem to be the slightest 
 clew. I tell you, Biglin, if the outcome of it all is favor 
 able, I shall have incurred debt of gratitude to you which I 
 can never repay." 
 
 "Shut yer trap, Guy! Ain t wese bin chums all along, 
 an I ll stick ter youse yet, ef yer ll let me." 
 
 "Can I see the Italian to-night?" 
 
 "Cert , youse kin. Jes go down de Bow ry, an sit 
 in de lantic Gardings fer a bit, an I ll bring in de Dago 
 less den no time." 
 
 "There was something else I had to do to-night," said 
 Guyon thoughtfully. 
 
 "Wot wus it ? Cud I gie youse a lift ?" 
 
 "Oh, no! I was to have given a rascally cur a horse 
 whipping, for an insult he gave me." 
 
 "Hully gee, dat s a go ! Youse cud do dat first. Never 
 miss a scrap s my motto; an* I ll back youse ef you ll 
 lemme." 
 
 "It won t be necessary. Wait for me in the reception- 
 room. I shall attend to the fellow in short order, then 
 we ll be off to the Bowery." 
 
 Descending to the billiard -room, Guyon looked in vain 
 for Barclay. He was told that the gentleman had not 
 put in an appearance for several days.
 
 PIETRO CONFESSES. 265 
 
 "Well, it can wait !" Guyon thought, as he hurried back 
 to his room and secreted the whip in a place of safety. 
 The all-important object before him now was to ascer 
 tain the facts which the Italian might reveal. All else 
 passed to a secondary place. 
 
 "Youse got trough de scrap soon, Guy; did e squeal 
 much?" 
 
 "Couldn t find him. Let us away with all haste." 
 
 Calling a cab, and promising the driver an extra tip 
 for additional speed, they were not long in reaching the 
 Atlantic Garden, where Biglin left Guyon, promising to 
 return in a jiffy. 
 
 The same scenes were to be witnessed as when Guyon 
 had visited the place on that former occasion, when Biglin 
 and he had dropped in after their fruitless search for evi 
 dence on Mott Street. Seating himself at one of the tables 
 near the door, where he could observe all comers, his 
 thoughts were so much occupied with the approaching in r 
 terview, that he did not heed the glances of most of the 
 assemblage directed towards himself; nor did he over 
 hear the wondering whispers circulating from table to 
 table, to the effect that "a swell bloke was awaitin fer is 
 gal." Still the crowds poured in, sat around sipping 
 their beer, and listening to the music, applauding the 
 performers generously, and relating their rehashed-stories 
 and jokes without a semblance of weariness. 
 
 After what seemed an hour, Biglin appeared accom 
 panied by a tall, swarthy Italian of forbidding aspect, 
 whose eyes glanced nervously about with the hunted ex 
 pression of one who is conscious of his guilt, and fears 
 detection. 
 
 "Hello, Guy, dis is de Dago, I tole youse about," said 
 Biglin, bringing the Italian up to where Guyon was sit 
 ting.
 
 266 A GENTLEMAN HORN. 
 
 "Hadn t we better get a table in the further part of 
 the room? Everyone is looking at us here, and I do not 
 wish our conversation to be overheard." 
 
 "Sure, youse has a big nut, Guy! I ll cotch onter a 
 place way over dere. Cum, Pietro dat s is name. 
 Guy/ 
 
 "Can you get some paper, a pen and ink?" queried 
 Guyon. 
 
 "Nothin easier. I knows de boss; and e chips in 
 fer anyting." 
 
 When they were seated at the table, beer having been 
 ordered for Biglin and the Italian, Guyon prepared to 
 write out the statement which the Italian was expected 
 io make. Then he addressed Pietro for the first time. 
 
 "Do you know me? Have you ever seen me before?" 
 
 "Me-a doan know-a. So-a long time," began the 
 Italian. 
 
 "Shut yer trap !" cried Biglin. "Now, Mister Pietro. 
 clis is me fren , es wants ter know ef youse flew de coop 
 \vid a little kid way back?" 
 
 "Me-a no understan , Signor," Pietro protested doggedly. 
 "What-a you want-a?" 
 
 "I know what you want," Guyon replied sternly. "You 
 have received my money from this man for telling him 
 that you were employed by one Perry Barrington to carry 
 :>ff a little child from his home, to bring him to the house 
 of an Italian woman called Eosa, who lived on Mott Street. 
 Now, see here, Pietro, I am the child who was abducted. 
 Tell me all you know about it. Speak slowly that I may 
 write it. If you tell a plausible story, and I find that it 
 is true, I will give you an additional five hundred. If you 
 besitate, I will have you arrested, and a lengthy sojourn 
 in prison will be your lightest sentence."
 
 PIETRO CONFESSES. 267 
 
 "Ah, Signer, pity! Me-a tell. Zee mon, me-a doan-a 
 care; but zee prizon! have-a pity, Signer." 
 
 "Fire away, Dago! Zee, wot fell you-a call, Coppers, 
 zay jes out-a side, see?" 
 
 Being thus adjured, the Italian repeated his story, 
 vhich Guy on wrote rapidly, but with a legible hand. Bo- 
 ginning with the compact he had made with Barrington. 
 pleading that he was so poor and needed the money or ho 
 would not have committed the deed, he then rehearsed 
 the scene of the ball at the Beaumont mansion, and 
 Guyon knew for the first time that Mrs. Barrington was 
 his mother. The well-laid plot to carry off the baby boy 
 whilst the nurse was sent to her mistress was told, and 
 how he, Pietro, had brought the child away in a cab to 
 the house of Rosa, where it seemed impossible that he 
 should ever return to his people. He revealed also the 
 various occasions on which he had met Barrington, and 
 received certain sums of money which he had been promised, 
 and of the Signer s wrath when he learned of the child s, 
 escape. 
 
 "You have seen Barrington lately?" whispered Guyon, 
 who was so overcome by the denouement that he could 
 scarcely speak. 
 
 "Me-a see im tree-a, four week." 
 
 "And you told him that this man was looking you 
 up?" 
 
 "Me-a no lie, Signer, he-a ask me-a, I tell." 
 
 "And he gave you money to leave the city!" 
 
 "Yes-a, Signer." 
 
 "Why did you return?" 
 
 "Me-a doan know-a, me-a coam back to-a zee old house-a. 
 Maybe eet-a ees-a to die, who-a know?" 
 
 "That will do. Now, do you swear that what you have 
 said is true?"
 
 268 A GENTLEMAN BORN. 
 
 "Wudn t it be ded easy ter have a lawyer mug gie im 
 de tip on swearin , Guy?" 
 
 "Certainly! but we can t get one as late as this, and 
 here." 
 
 "Can t wese dough! Wotch me dere s lots er j edges 
 in de bowlin alley, wots fixed up f er a beefsteak feed ; an 
 de boss bees in dere wid em. I ll jes pull one er dem, 
 see?" 
 
 Biglin was off as he spoke, and soon returned with a 
 genial, smooth-faced individual in whom Guyon recognized 
 a friend of the old contractor, and likewise a member 
 of Tammany Hall. 
 
 Having stated his case to this learned gentleman, after 
 a few words of recognition had been spoken, Guyon handed 
 the document to him, and requested him to take the oath 
 of the Italian. 
 
 "I tell you what, Mr. McCarty, or Beaumont, as that 
 seems to be your name from this paper, I won t give much 
 for the Italian s oath ; but I ll take it. I d like to give him 
 a life sentence, though, and I shouldn t wonder if I could 
 get a jury to send him to the chair." 
 
 "Have-a pity ! pity-a !" cried Pietro, fairly crawling 
 at the Judge s feet. 
 
 "Go away! Don t touch me!" cried the Judge. Then 
 to Guyon : "The document has some legal weight since you 
 Lave witnesses," he said. And having caused the Italian 
 to affix his mark, and Biglin and the Judge also having 
 signed it, Guyon pocketed the precious paper, feeling that 
 at last he had obtained the long sought evidence. 
 
 He politely refused the invitation to join the party of 
 "feeders" as Biglin called them, but expressed his warm 
 appreciation of the Judge s kindness, when the latter 
 drank to the "Success and Prosperity of Mr. Beaumont," 
 in a glass of excellent sherry.
 
 PIETRO CONFESSES. 269 
 
 "Wot s yer game now, Guy?" queried Biglin, as they 
 left the garden. 
 
 "I shall call upon Barrington and confront him with 
 the evidence of his guilt." 
 
 "Maybe e ll take a turn out er youse," said Biglin re 
 flectively. 
 
 "Two can play at that game." 
 
 "An so youse foun yersel at last, Guy?" said Biglin, 
 looking up at his old acquaintance with increasing re 
 spect, as the fact grew upon him that Guy was a "swell 
 mug" after all. 
 
 "Yes," Guyon replied, "all that remains is to establish 
 the proof. God grant that it may be speedily accom 
 plished."
 
 270 A GENTLEMAN BORN. 
 
 CHAPTEK XXXI. 
 
 A WARNING. 
 
 WHEN Biglin left Guy on that night with a feeling of 
 ^tense satisfaction that he had at last accomplished the 
 great quest which had occupied his thoughts for so many 
 years; that he had found conclusive proof that the littlj 
 "Dago kid," whom he had first met on the dumps, was one 
 of the "swellest mugs" in New York, the idea of the im 
 mense gulf which had come between them, caused a sudden 
 revolution in his thoughts. All the warmth of his nature 
 had gone out to Guyon; and now, with a chilling misery, 
 lie owned to himself that they could be chums and brothers 
 no longer. 
 
 In his longing to find some one to whom he might com 
 municate his feelings, a kindred spirit who would sym 
 pathize with his condition, he thought of Dimples. He 
 had not seen her to converse with her since she left her 
 home on Cherry Street; but he knew that she was at the 
 Casino, and he could meet her if he waited there at the 
 stage entrance. 
 
 Thither, then, he went. There was some time to spare 
 before the performance should be concluded ; and he hung 
 around so close to the door, that the guardian of those 
 sacred precincts was obliged to threaten him with the 
 severest penalties, and even invite an officer to enforce 
 his request that "he move on." Still he hovered about; for 
 he said to himself that "no swell bloke" should nab Dimples 
 before he got hold of her. And sure enough, his patience
 
 A WARNING. 271 
 
 was finally rewarded by seeing the young lady come forth 
 alone. He was at her side in an instant. 
 
 "Howdy, Dimples ! Is youse too big game ter look at 
 an ole feller like me?" 
 
 "Who are you?" queried the young lady, favoring him 
 with an icy stare. 
 
 "Hully gee ! Youse ain t goin ter cut me ded, Dimples ? 
 Doan youse cotch on ter me phiz ? An me name s Biglin, 
 Swipsie youse called me oncet." 
 
 "Oh, yes! I remember you, Mr. Biglin. I m glad 
 to see you to-night." 
 
 "Now youse squealin like yer used ter. Wot fell ave 
 yer bin up ter all dis time? I tole Guy bout youse, an 
 e sed es Vd look yer up. Did e?" 
 
 "Yes; and I ve found my mother, and am living with 
 her. What do you think of that ?" 
 
 "Gee, dat s great! Youse all a findin yer folks! i 
 s pose now, yer mudder she s a big swell, ain t she?" 
 
 "Not exactly ; but she s very good to me. What did you 
 mean by all finding their folks ?" 
 
 "Oh, nothin much! Yer see, Dimples, I m a little 
 down ter-night. Youse doan mine me chasin meseF long 
 wid yer, does yer?" 
 
 "No, I walk home almost every night; so you can be 
 my escort for this once. But what makes you down? 
 Haven t you work?" 
 
 "Dere s work miff. I se boss o de job fer de McCartys, 
 dat s Guy s fader I mean dat s him es used ter be Guy s 
 fader. Dis blamed bissness got me nut all upside down, 
 see?" 
 
 "I don t understand you. You are working for the 
 contractor, you say?" 
 
 "Cerf ! It s jes dis way. Youse knows Guy an me 
 an youse used ter be brudders an sister in dose times a ter
 
 272 A GENTLEMAN BORN. 
 
 me an Guy fonn youse, an Guy an me tergedder long 
 afor dat." 
 
 "Don t speak of those times, Biglin ; tell me about your 
 self," said Dimples, with so much asperity in her tone 
 that Biglin turned to look at her in wonder. 
 
 "Youse got ter be such a howlin swell in de teayters. 
 youse doan care bout Cherry Street no more," he said. 
 "I tought youse moight like ter talk bout de old place, 
 see?" 
 
 "Then you are mistaken. That is all passed. I have a 
 new life, new associations, and a new future." 
 
 "So s Guy! dat s de worst!" replied Biglin sadly. 
 "Youse all got way up cept mesel , an I se way down." 
 
 "What is it about Mr. McCarty?" queried Dimples, 
 thinking that she might learn something from this man 
 which she could turn to advantage; for since the receipt 
 of his letter her love for him had changed to the bitter 
 est hate. 
 
 "I s pose e won t mind me squealin . Anyhow, de 
 whole ting 11 be peached soon. Guy s foun who e is a 
 las , see? "E s no street gamin, ner a Dago kid, sez I 
 ter mesel when I set me peepers on im. An I ve bin 
 chasin roun fer de longes time ter fine wot dey calls de 
 clew ter is birt , see ? Den I cotch de big Dago wot took 
 im away when e wus a kid; an Guy, e s got de nippers 
 on ter im ter-night, an made im peach de hull game, 
 c en e writes it down, an as a Jedge bloke ter do de swearin 
 act, an dere youse is, an Guy ain t me brudder no 
 longer." 
 
 "How do you make that out, Biglin?" 
 
 "Well, o course, I ain t in it wid im, when e s way up 
 in de upper ten, see?" 
 
 "Do you mean that he knows of his parents ?" exclaimed 
 Dimples, now deeply interested.
 
 A WARNING. 273 
 
 "Dat s de game ! Only one s livin . Is fader wus ded 
 when e wus took away." 
 
 "What is his Mother s name?" 
 
 " Twas Beaumints, er suthin like dat, an dat s Guy s 
 name ain t it swell? Guy Beaumints, dere youse is! 
 E wus jes Guynoni first, den Guy, den Guy McCarty, an 
 now dis name wot it wus all de time." 
 
 "I don t know the name, never heard of it," said Dim 
 ples, who had been searching her memory for some link 
 to work upon. "Was this all he learned to-night?" she 
 finally asked. 
 
 "Bet yer life, it wusn t! De Dago peached ded on de 
 bloke wot had Guy took away, ducted, dey calls it, an 
 maybe Guy won t do a ting ter im when e cotches im." 
 
 "I wonder who the wicked man can be?" 
 
 "I ll tell youse ef youse doan squeal, cause Guy, he doan 
 want no un ter cotch on ter is game, see ?" 
 
 "I won t say a word, Biglin." 
 
 "Well, it s jes Barrin ton Perry s is first name 
 dat s de string de Dago gied us." 
 
 "My Father!" exclaimed Dimples. 
 
 "Yer Fader? Say, Dimples, yer tole me es youse foun 
 yer Mudder; but yer ain t goin ter gie me de fairy tale 
 now fer fair! Ef dis bloke s yer Fader, I ll tell youse, 
 ef it wus de las word I sed, sez I, e s de damnest scamp 
 outer jail." 
 
 "How dare you insult my Father! How dare you say 
 that !" cried Dimples, throwing off her mask and displaying 
 her true character. "I tell you, Mr. Barrington is more 
 of a gentleman than your fine friend who has gotten up this 
 tale to raise himself in society. I don t believe it ! but 
 I m thankful for your news, Mr. Biglin," she added with 
 a laugh at his discomfiture. "You may go now. I do
 
 274 A GENTLEMAN BORN. 
 
 not want you any more to-night. I m almost home, and 
 I ve got all the information I need, at present/ 
 
 "Hully gee!" Biglin exclaimed, as he stood staring 
 after the girl, who was fast disappearing from view. 
 "Hully gee! who d a tought dat o Dimples? Gee, but 
 dose gals bees corkers! Wot fell, wot fell! she ll squeal, 
 will she ? An dat damned Fader o hers 11 be on ter Guy s 
 game! Dot s like me, allus spilin de good ting! Ef I 
 ever agin opens me lips ter dose petticoats, s help 
 me!" 
 
 And Dimples, who had never lost sight of the one great 
 aim of her life now to injure Guyon to the fullest ex 
 tent as a holocaust at the altar of her wounded affections 
 had grasped this intelligence which Biglin conveyed, 
 and quickly revolving it in her fertile mind, for she pos 
 sessed many of Perry s tricky qualities, determined to pay 
 a visit to her respected parent, and discuss with him some 
 new scheme which would most completely satiate her thirst 
 for vengeance. 
 
 Hence it was that she called at the National Bank 
 
 the next day, and was ushered into the same room where 
 her mother had met with such a brutal reception. Perry 
 chanced to be there to-day beoause of a meeting of the 
 directors at which he had resigned his position as President, 
 receiving many requests to reconsider his withdrawal, ac 
 companied by the most nattering eulogies upon his exalted 
 character, his brilliant career as President, under which 
 the bank had risen to a place second to none among the 
 financial institutions of the country, and so on. 
 
 All this had been as so much balm to him, causing him to 
 feel secure in the belief that some of the most influential 
 nen of the time, who were connected with the bank, either 
 as depositors or directors, and who had been unstinted
 
 A WARNING. 275 
 
 in their praise, would stand by him and refuse to give 
 credence to whatever might be brought against him. 
 
 "The lady whose card I gave you, sir," said the mes 
 senger, showing Dimples into the private office. 
 
 "What is your business with me, young woman ?" asked 
 Perry, as Dimples, approaching, gazed into his once hand 
 some, now almost repulsive countenance, and wondered in 
 her heart how her Mother could have been attracted to 
 him. 
 
 "I ve been wanting 10 can upon you lor sometime," she 
 replied, falling into one of the comfortable chairs which 
 was drawn up near to her Father. "You don t know me, of 
 course." 
 
 "No, I don t know you. Are you soliciting for some 
 charitable object? I have many such calls upon me; 
 still, if it is worthy, I will not fall behind in my duty as 
 a Christian." 
 
 "Gee whiz ! I must inherit my clever acting from both 
 sides of the house," thought Dimples ; then aloud : "You 
 are mistaken, sir, I m not a solicitor of any kind, I m an 
 actress." 
 
 "Oh!" exclaimed Perry, elevating his eyebrows, an ad 
 justing his eye-glasses to get a better look at his visitor. 
 "Deucedly pretty girl !" was his comment. "Is there any 
 thing I can do for you, my dear ?" he said. 
 
 "Yes, Father, I want to have a little talk with you." 
 
 "What did you say Father ? Why, I ve never seen you 
 before there must be some mistake ; and yet, you do not 
 appear to be a young lady who would try to bunco an old 
 gentleman like me." 
 
 "It s no bunco game, sir, nor blackmail, either. When 
 1 mention my Mother s name, Mildred Moss, you will re 
 call the fact that she sacrificed her baby girl and yours, 
 for your sake. I am that child, whom you both supposed
 
 276 A GENTLEMAN BORN. 
 
 Ltid perished. I found Mother a short time ago; she told 
 me her story/ 
 
 "Ah, it s her game then I" Perry exclaimed, his face 
 assuming a hard, stern aspect. "I assure you, young 
 woman, you cannot obtain a penny from me. This has 
 been cleverly thought out. I give you both credit for it, 
 but, really, you see, it s all too transparent. You, my 
 child! Miss Moss child! perfectly ridiculous!" he con 
 cluded, with a sarcastic smile. 
 
 "Do you think so, sir? Mother warned me that my re 
 ception would not be the warmest, when I told her that 
 1 intended to claim an allowance from you. Now my 
 errand is different. I am here to do business with you. If 
 1 ask for money, it is only as a return for what I shall 
 give." 
 
 "Ah, ah! you change your tactics! Well, out with it. 
 dear. Your wisdom surely does credit to your parents, 
 whoever they are." 
 
 "It should do credit to you; for you are an excellent; 
 actor, I m told." As she said this, Perry winced a little, 
 and Dimples, observing it, hurried to gain her point. 
 
 "I have certain information which you will probably 
 like to hear, although, in the main, it may be painful to 
 you." 
 
 "There is nothing which you can communicate that will 
 even interest me." 
 
 "You know Mr. Barclay," Dimples resumed. 
 
 "Yes." 
 
 "Well, I am the young lady by whose means he hoped to 
 dupe Mr. McCarty, and lower his character." 
 
 "You were living with Barclay? Eeally! and you suc 
 ceeded, I trust ! Now that you disclose your true identity, 
 there is no need of playing at cross purposes." 
 
 "I am delighted to hear you say that! We can get
 
 A WARNING. 277 
 
 along so much more quickly. No, I did not succeed, 
 because I was fool enough to fall in love with the fel 
 low." 
 
 "Good!" Perry exclaimed, rubbing his hands, "he 
 reciprocated your affection, of course such a charming 
 appearance! so fascinating, by Jove! Now, if I were a 
 young man ! : " 
 
 "Sir, you are mistaken! He did not return my love. 
 But, in the meantime, I championed his cause before Bar 
 clay, and his friend, Mr. Brandon, whom he had brought 
 as a witness to the facts adduced in his letter." 
 
 "The Devil, you did! That was very, very wrong, 
 young woman ; but, no doubt, you expected at that time that 
 the fellow would repay you with his devotion." 
 
 "Perhaps I did. Still, Barclay had no excuse for re 
 vealing your name in connection with the plot." 
 
 "Did he do this !" cried Barrington, turning ashy white, 
 oud clinching his hands upon the arms of his chair, "and 
 in the presence of Brandon? The affair must have been 
 told over the city by this time ! What shall I do ?" 
 
 "No fear of that, sir! McCarty is too deeply engaged 
 in another matter your Ward to circulate a story which 
 would bring dishonor upon your family." 
 
 "You think so? Yes, I imagine there is some truth 
 in that but what do you know about this McCarty ?" 
 
 "I ? Why, I know a great deal. I ve known him since 
 he was a street boy down in Cherry Street." 
 
 "As long as that? Then you are aware that he has 
 no origin to speak of; and that even the name he bears, 
 with which he has acquired some wealth, is not his 
 own." 
 
 "I know that, also, and more," Dimples replied coolly. 
 "Now, see here, Father, we are coming to the object of my 
 visit. I have intelligence which, I fancy, will be worth a
 
 278 A GENTLEMAN BORN. 
 
 great deal to you. As your daughter, it was my first 
 thought to warn you of a danger hanging over you; but, 
 since you repudiate my claims to relationship, I will put 
 it in another way. What will you give me for a certain 
 knowledge about this McCarty, as he calls himself?" 
 
 "You know something which concerns me?" Perry 
 mused, endeavoring not to appear interested, yet failing 
 utterly. The office was thoroughly heated, still he shivered, 
 as though the chill atmosphere of winter was there. All 
 this did not escape Dimples, nor elicit the slightest feel 
 ing of pity. He had insulted her, as he had, in that other 
 day, scorned her Mother. She would use him now, as 
 ^ny other instrument which might have suggested itself 
 for carrying out her revenge upon Guyon. 
 
 "Yes," she replied, "I have learned it from an old pal of 
 McCarty s, who also knew him when he lived with an 
 Italian woman in Mott Street. This fellow conceived the 
 idea of unravelling the mystery. I saw him last night, 
 and what he told me, concerns you most intimately." 
 
 "What is your information worth?" Perry asked in a 
 voice scarcely above a whisper. 
 
 "I don t think a thousand is too much," replied Dimples 
 coolly. 
 
 "Have a care! Remember, I can have you prosecuted 
 for blackmail." 
 
 "And I can aid your enemies in bringing you to justice 
 how would a felon s arb become you ?" queried the young 
 woman. 
 
 "There s my check book! Make out the check for tho 
 amount Ican t hold the pen steadily. I m not a well 
 man. It s not that I m afraid! Pshaw! No one would 
 believe the tale, only " 
 
 "Only it s more convenient to give me the money," said
 
 A WARNING. 279 
 
 Dimples, drawing the check hurriedly, and wishing that ske 
 bad named five thousand instead of one. 
 
 "Now, for your intelligence !" said Perry. 
 
 "McCarty has learned from the Italian Pietro of the 
 abduction has procured a document signed by the fellow, 
 relating the circumstances, giving your name in full, and 
 charging you with the crime. He knows that he is your 
 wife s child by her former husband, Mr. Beaumont. Is 
 that sufficient?" 
 
 "At last!" Perry murmured, so completely overcome 
 that he could scarcely frame the words. 
 
 "Here s the check, sir," said Dimples, with a vague fear 
 lest something should happen to him so ill did he ap 
 pear. 
 
 "Yes the check! There you have it signed," he re 
 plied ; but the signature was barely legible. "Ring for the 
 messenger and leave me No, don t go until he arrives." 
 
 "This man, McCarty, will call upon you soon," said 
 Dimples quietly, observing the effect of her words upon 
 her Father. She had the money now, and would torture 
 him just a little for her Mother s sake. 
 
 "How soon? how soon?" 
 
 "I really cannot tell, perhaps this evening; but if you 
 are ill, you need not see him. Doubtless, his presence 
 will irritate you." 
 
 "That s my own affair. I can take care of him." 
 
 "Father," said Dimples, "this is perhaps the last time 
 I shall see you. Just one request before I go. You don t 
 want this fellow around. What your reasons are, I am 
 not interested to know. Can t you make his disappearance 
 more effectual this time?" 
 
 "What have you to do with it?" cried Barrington, glanc 
 ing sharply at his child who now appeared more truly 
 than ever his counterpart.
 
 280 A GENTLEMAN BORN. 
 
 "I? He rejected my love he loves another, and I 
 have sworn that he shall never wed her! Isn t that 
 enough?" 
 
 "Sufficient ! Your hand, child. Let me look close into 
 your face, the lights are dim you you are Mildred s 
 little one, indeed. Now go, the messenger is coming; 
 your Father will not forget your wrong." 
 
 "Thank you, sir. I trust you will he strong enough 
 for that other interview."
 
 NEMESIS. 281 
 
 CHAPTER XXXII. 
 
 NEMESIS. 
 
 PERRY asked the bank messenger to ride home with him, 
 when the coach was brought to the door. There was a 
 vague dread hanging over him, such as he had not yet 
 experienced. His physician had told him to avoid any 
 great excitement, hinting darkly that he was not in the 
 very best condition. This shock, the warning he had re 
 ceived from Dimples, had well-nigh produced the most 
 direful effect. It was only a sudden determination, 
 framed in a moment of desperation, that gave him false 
 strength, enabling him to reach home in safety. 
 
 It was a bleak December night. The Christmas holi 
 days were approaching, bringing in their train a host of 
 social festivities of which the Barrington household was 
 to have its share. Consequently, amid the bustle and 
 merriment, Perry s unusually ill appearance did not at 
 tract as much attention as it would otherwise have done. 
 He ordered his dinner to be served in his room; and, in 
 reply to his wife s question as to his health, for Muriel 
 found a moment or two to spend in his company, not 
 withstanding his querulous humor, he replied that he 
 wished to be left alone, adding that he expected a visitor 
 who was to be shown into the library when he came. 
 
 "Poor Perry ! are you certain I can do nothing for you ?" 
 ?i?ked Muriel, pausing at the door, and coming again to 
 his side there was something peculiarly dejected and care 
 worn in his aspect which touched her loving heart.
 
 282 A GENTLEMAN BORN. 
 
 "No, nothing; only leave me. You have sufficient to 
 occupy your time to-night, I suppose/ 
 
 "Yes; but it is selfish in me to leave you all alone when 
 you are suffering. Won t you let me call our physician ?" 
 
 "Physician be hanged ! He could do no good. I m 
 going away after Christmas. I feel that I need the change. 
 However, you need not mention it." 
 
 "I m so delighted that you have come to that decision. 
 Now, good-night, dearest. Why will you see anyone to 
 night? Ketire early, and you will feel better." 
 
 "Muriel," he said, drawing her close to him, "if any 
 thing should happen to me, if a secret enemy should 
 arise, accusing me of a great crime, you would still trusc 
 me, you would not believe ill of me, would you?" 
 
 "Oh, Perry ! how can you talk so ? Believe ill of you, 
 my own true husband ? I would like to confront the man 
 who thinks it ! No, dearest, this is some phantom of your 
 imagination, caused by your illness. See, I kiss you, again 
 and again ! Wo are just the same lovers we were in the 
 old times, aren t we?" 
 
 "Yes. Now go, Muriel; they are missing you in the 
 drawing-room." 
 
 Leaving most of his dinner untouched, Perry descended 
 to the library, having first examined a trim, silver- 
 mounted revolver, which he took from a secret drawer in 
 his dresser. 
 
 The great log-fire was blazing merrily in the open 
 fireplace, and casting fantastic shadows about the old 
 room when he entered. He drew a chair towards the 
 hearth; then rose, and, going to the window, gazed out 
 into the night. The cold must have been intense for the 
 heavy mullioned panes were coated with a thick icy cover 
 ing, with just a chink here and there, serving as peep 
 holes into the awful blackness without. Gust after gust
 
 NEMESIS. 283 
 
 swept the streets and against the windows at which he 
 stood, and myriads of tiny flakes, borne on the blast, were 
 piling themselves up in grotesque shapes everywhere. 
 
 "Ugh !" muttered Perry, "it s a bad night. I doubt if 
 he comes. I trust that he will. To have this suspense for 
 another day ! I can t live through it. And when it s all over 
 Bah! I ll not think of that Self-defense ! that s a 
 good idea. He threatened my life yes, there must be 
 another pistol Ah, it s here! Clarence s with his name. 
 Good! perfect condition! Why the mischief doesn t the 
 fire warm the place!" And he drew his chair closer to 
 the blaze, still shivering. He had not thought of turning 
 on the electric light. He did not seem to mind the gloom 
 cf the place at first; but now, as he was seated there, he 
 thought he heard low moanings from the furthermost corner 
 and started in alarm; only to find that it was the wind in 
 its freakish outbursts about the house. Again, the sound, 
 and with it a rapping at the door. 
 
 "Great Heavens ! if this goes on much longer, I ll be in 
 no condition to meet the fellow. What on earth can it 
 be? Clarence s room the same books which he was wont 
 to gloat over; his desk, this very chair, I believe he used 
 when I saw him last. That s not his face, there in the 
 blaze ! Ten thousand Demons ! Hastings ! Hastings ! the 
 lights, I say!" 
 
 "Yes, sir, I ve been knocking at the door, sir, and you 
 oidn t say as I was to come in." 
 
 "Have you turned on the lights? Put on more logs 
 quick. It s a cold night, Hastings." 
 
 "Yes, sir; shall I fetch you a little wine?" 
 
 "Brandy! to the left, there in the locker straight. 
 Now I feel better. Leave the decanter on the table." 
 
 "Yes, sir. There s a gentleman as wants to see you, 
 sir. The Madam said as I was to show him up."
 
 284 A GENTLEMAN BORN. 
 
 "He s come! Bring him here at once/ Perry replied, 
 fortifying himself with another glass. 
 
 "Mr. McCarty," said Hastings, holding open the door 
 as Guyon entered. "Bless my stars," muttered the old 
 man, "if I didn t think he was Mr. Clarence himself." 
 
 "I am honored by your visit," said Perry. "Be seated. 
 It was good of you to call upon me on such a night as 
 this." 
 
 "Perhaps so," Guyon replied, drawing up a chair op 
 posite Barrington, "and doubtless you must think that 
 the object of my visit is serious when I choose so ugly 
 : night for paying it." 
 
 "Not necessarily you are chilled shall I help you ID 
 some of this ? It is excellent, I assure you." 
 
 "No, I thank you. The warmth of the fire is sufficient." 
 
 "As you please. I was not aware that you young men 
 were so temperate." 
 
 "Temperance is sometimes a necessity." 
 
 "Do you refer to temperance in general? or perhaps 
 merely to the use of opium. 
 
 "I don t pretend to misunderstand you, sir. You have 
 teen the letter which Barclay wrote and which you in 
 stigated." 
 
 "So, ho! that s what brought you here!" cried Perry, 
 with an effort to control his passion, but failing utterly. 
 The very sight of this man, the image of his former friend^ 
 Clarence Beaumont, he, the one individual whose ex 
 istence was a constant menace to him, could not but ex 
 asperate him. "I must congratulate you," he added 
 sarcastically, "in having escaped the effects of the drug. 
 The young lady, in whose company you smoked, is well, I 
 presume." 
 
 "Mr. Barrington, let us come to a more serious under 
 standing," said Guyon, feeling that he could not answer
 
 NEMESIS. 285 
 
 for himself if he remained here long. "I am now aware 
 of the motive which actuated you in that affair." 
 
 "Beally, you must be a mind-reader. Pray, how did 
 you receive the intelligence?" 
 
 "From your tool. The wretch himself confessed it." 
 
 "Poor Barclay! he must have been sorely tried to have 
 resorted to such a subterfuge." 
 
 "It is no lie ! you cannot deny it." 
 
 "And if I do? You have no witness to sustain your 
 statement." 
 
 "My friend, Harold Brandon, is here; he was present 
 when Barclay disclosed your name. Shall I call him?" 
 
 That is not necessary. I admit the truth of what 
 you say. Yes, I did give Barclay a hint or two, I wished 
 to see how quickly a man who had come from the streets, 
 and, by means of education and wealth, had acquired a 
 certain position in society, would fall again to his proper 
 level." 
 
 "Do not excite my anger, Mr. Barrington, by your in 
 sults. Kemember that I am under your roof and enjoy 
 ing your hospitality. As my host, you are safe at my 
 hands." 
 
 "Your speech is pretty highly strung for a street gamin," 
 laughed Perry, flinging these shots to lead Guyon on to 
 the highest state of rage. 
 
 "A street gamin !" Guyon cried, rising and confronting 
 Perry, who still remained seated. "If I was that, you 
 were the cause of it. No, thank Heaven! I have dis 
 covered my origin at last. I am your equal socially, I am 
 your superior in that my hands and my heart are clean, 
 whereas yours are stained with the foulest crimes." 
 
 "Do you dare to say that to me ? You !" 
 
 "Yes, I dare. Do not excite yourself unnecessarily. 
 If you were in another position, I would summon you to
 
 286 A GENTLEMAN BORN. 
 
 justice, and you should pay the highest penalty for your 
 deed. Now, for the sake of my Mother and of her child, 
 J am content that you acknowledge the wrong you have 
 done me, Clarence Beaumont s son, and restore me to my 
 rightful possessions/* 
 
 "You Clarence Beaumont s son? Never! This is rare 
 acting, Mr. McCarty, or whatever name you may chooso 
 to assume ; but you can never play that game with me. I ve 
 had too much experience." 
 
 "Do you refuse ?" cried Guyon, who had anticipated some 
 cpposition, but was unprepared for so barefaced a 
 denial. 
 
 "Absolutely! Do your worst, I defy you! Your posi 
 tion and my own are too widely removed for anyone ti 
 bolieve your story." 
 
 "But I have proof," Guyon said, producing the docu 
 ment, the Italian s sworn statement. 
 
 "Let me see it." 
 
 "It shall never pass into your hands. I know far toD 
 much of your hypocrisy." 
 
 "Read it to me, then, if you are afraid that I would 
 retain it." 
 
 "Or burn it, perhaps, the blaze is so convenient. Yes, 
 1 will read it ; and mark well its contents, attested under 
 oath before a magistrate of the city." 
 
 Guyon read the contents of the paper, and when he had 
 f nished, looked up to note the effect upon Barrington. 
 He had been listening quietly, to all appearances, but his 
 countenance was ghastly pale, and the look from his eyes 
 vas one of fiendish hatred which might haunt the beholder 
 to his dying hour. One hand grasped the arm of the chair, 
 the other was concealed behind him. 
 
 There was a stillness for a moment or two, broken by 
 ;}>e howling of the storm without, and the dashing ot
 
 NEMESIS. 28? 
 
 the wind and sleet against the windows. Then, there 
 came that low, moaning sound, which caused Perry to 
 cfart and look around. All was quiet again when he spoke. 
 
 "And if this he true, and you are, as you pretend to 
 be, the heir to the Beaumont fortune, do you think me such 
 a fool as to relinquish what I have held all these years with 
 out a struggle ?" 
 
 "As you will. I have given you a chance to come out 
 of it all without heaping additional disgrace upon your 
 family. For my Mother s sake, I had hoped that it would 
 have been so." 
 
 "You have told no one as yet ?" queried Perry, in a low 
 i^ne, stealthily bringing around the hand from behind 
 him. 
 
 "Not a soul knows of this except the magistrate whose 
 signature is on the paper, and a fellow who is in my em 
 ploy as foreman." 
 
 "Then shall no one hear of it ever !" cried Barrington 
 hoarsely, his violent nature overmastering his subtle 
 acting. 
 
 "That rests with yourself. Do as I request; there is 
 iio other alternative." 
 
 Guyon had scarcely uttered the words, when there was 
 a flash a report, and, had the aim been more correct, or 
 the hand which held the revolver more steady, he would 
 surely never have lived to repeat his story. As it was, 
 \vhen the smoke cleared away, he saw Barrington, lying 
 prone on the floor, the steaming weapon still clinched in 
 his hand, and he, to all appearance, lifeless. 
 
 More fearful than before, the wind shattered against 
 the house, even more horribly the weird moaning sound 1 : 
 were heard, and Guyon stood there for a moment, not 
 knowing what to do. No one came to his assistance. The 
 library was remote from the drawing-room, in which the
 
 288 A GENTLEMAN BORN. 
 
 family were assembled. Frantically he touched the elec 
 tric button, again and again; and, after what seemed 
 ages, Hastings appeared, who, at the sight of his master 
 lying on the floor, and the young man, his former master *? 
 v^ry self, standing over him, was petrified with fear. 
 
 "Don t stand there gaping, summon the household, call 
 Mr. Brandon and Mrs. Barrington; send for a physician 
 quickly, I fear that your master is seriously ill, if not 
 dead." 
 
 "If he is dead, the Nemesis of all his crimes has over 
 taken him before he confessed, and placed me in my right 
 ful position," Guyon thought. "What if I am suspected 
 of this deed ? No, it cannot be ! God grant that he is not 
 dead just one moment of consciousness is all I ask," and 
 if Guyon ever prayed earnestly in his life, he did so at thin 
 crucial moment.
 
 THE WAGES OF BIN. 289 
 
 CHAPTEK XXXIII. 
 
 THE WAGES OF SIN. 
 
 "GoY, in Heaven s name, what is this?" asked Har 
 old, as he rushed into the library. 
 
 "There is little time for explanation. Mr. Barringtoii 
 lies there unconscious, perhaps dead. Help me to lay 
 li:m on the couch before the family arrives." 
 
 "But the revolver, Guy, did he attempt your life j " 
 queried Hal, when with difficulty they raised the appar 
 ently lifeless form. 
 
 "I believe so. There is the mark of the bullet through 
 that picture. I was standing under it at the time. Don t 
 look at me like that, Hal. I assure you, I was not the cause 
 of his death, if such it be. I fear it is a visitation from 
 Heaven." 
 
 "Hush, here are Mrs. Barrington and Doctor Bruce!" 
 iii d the two young men stood aside at their entrance. 
 
 "Oh, Perry, Perry, speak to me!" cried Muriel, run 
 ning to the couch, and falling on her knees beside it. "He 
 is not dead! Doctor, say that he is not! I left him but 
 tin hour ago. Then he was not so seriously ill." 
 
 "Calm yourself, lady, endeavor to exercise a little con 
 trol over your feelings/ replied the physician, and he 
 iunde a hasty examination to satisfy himself that life was 
 not yet extinct. He then set to work to administer 
 a restorative. "Humph!" he muttered, as he noticed the 
 revolver, "some terrible excitement, I warned him!" and
 
 290 A GENTLEMAN BORN. 
 
 quickly, before Muriel could notice it, he had disengaged 
 th p weapon from Perry s hand and slipped it into his 
 pocket. 
 
 He was an old gentleman, gruff in manner, but kindly 
 at heart withal; and had been in attendance upon the 
 household since Clarence s last illness. He thought that 
 he knew this family well, he had diagnosed their ills and 
 ai ments so often; even had he been made the depository 
 of many a secret ; but this episode puzzled him. 
 
 "He will recover, Doctor Bruce?" exclaimed Muriel, 
 fciill upon her knees, and not as yet cognizant of Harold s 
 or Guyon s presence. 
 
 "I will be candid with you, Mrs. Barrington; no good 
 can come from my raising a false hope. Your husband 
 <rill perhaps revive under the influence of the powerful 
 hypodermic I have administered; but he cannot live more 
 than an hour at the most." 
 
 "Great God ! is this true ? Oh, doctor, you are not de 
 ceiving me? This is more than I can bear!" 
 
 "Try to calm yourself for his sake," said Harold, who 
 now came forward. "Sit in this easy chair by the couch. 
 It is indeed a sad and terrible visitation; but you can 
 be strong in the awful emergency if you will." 
 
 "I have had trials, sore trials, Harold, but none like 
 iliis. He was so kind, so good a husband to me," she mur- 
 rM red, sinking into the chair with Harold s and Guyon s 
 r.?tistance. 
 
 "Who is this young man, Mr. Brandon?" queried the 
 doctor, in a low tone. "It seems to me that I have seen 
 his face before." 
 
 "This is Mr. McCarty, Doctor Bruce, a friend of mina. 
 He was with Mr. Barrington when the stroke came upon 
 l. . m. Tell me, is it his heart?" 
 
 "Nothing else," replied the doctor gruffly. "Come here,
 
 THE WAGES OF SIN. 291 
 
 young man/ he said to Guyon. "I want a word with 
 ym." And taking him aside, he questioned Guyon as to 
 tl.c interview, whether it had been of an exciting na 
 ture. 
 
 "It was decidedly. Under the circumstances, I am loath 
 to discuss it." 
 
 "I found a revolver in his hand. It had been used." 
 
 "Yes." 
 
 "Humph! And you being the only one with him at 
 the time, the intent must have been directed against your 
 self. You are fortunate in having escaped. For the sako 
 of the family, I advise you to remain silent you under 
 stand." 
 
 "There is no need of your caution, I am too deeply 
 interested, I assure you." 
 
 "I could swear that his voice is that of Clarence Beau- 
 n cnt," muttered the doctor, returning to his station at 
 Perry s side. 
 
 At this moment, there was a little noise outside the 
 d< or. 
 
 "I will, I must go in," Esther s voice was heard saying 
 "Don t hold me back, Mabel. My dear Papa is dying, 
 Hastings says. Let me go in!" 
 
 "Bid the girls come in," Muriel whispered. 
 
 And Esther, entering, unheeding all else save the form 
 of her Father on the couch, flew thither, and, before tha 
 l:\sician could prevent her, had flung her arms around his 
 neck, and was sobbing bitterly "Papa, Papt ! you are not 
 dead look at me, it s Esther, your own little daughter! 
 Papa, oh, do look at me !" 
 
 And Mabel, kneeling at Muriel s feet, strove to come- 
 fort her, for the pent-up grief seemed to rend her soul 
 on hearing her child s plaintive cries. 
 
 But, above all the anguish and lamentations, the sob-
 
 292 A GENTLEMAN BORA. 
 
 bing and the soul s deepest cries, came the fearful sound 
 of the storm, mocking in its devilish fury their grief- 
 stricken hearts. 
 
 "Come, child," said Doctor Bruce, gently raising Esther 
 from her position. "Your Father will look upon you and 
 speak to you in a few moments. You would not have him 
 witness your tears." 
 
 "His eyelids are quivering," whispered Muriel, who had 
 not taken her glance from her husband s face. 
 
 "Hush!" said the physician, "he is making an effort 
 to speak. In Heaven s name, be calm, lady, the prolonga 
 tion of his life even for a short interval, depends upon ab 
 solute quiet." 
 
 "Guyon I ve killed him!" were the first words that 
 came to the astonished listeners; and Guyon himself more 
 deeply moved than anyone in the room, came now to the 
 couch, and stood beside it, while Muriel, Esther and Mabel 
 gazed at him in wonder. 
 
 "No," he said softly, "you did not do that, sir. Look 
 at me, I am alive." 
 
 "Thank God! not that crime Forgive " and he 
 
 feebly stretched out his hand. 
 
 "As surely as I hope for forgiveness," Guyon replied in 
 a voice that was scarcely audible. 
 
 "My wife is she here ?" and Perry s voice seemed to gain 
 strength from some mysterious impulse. 
 
 "I am here, dearest !" Muriel said, kneeling beside 
 Guyon. "Oh, Perry, you must not leave me !" 
 
 "It is ordered so, darling there s not much time 
 listen while I have strength to speak a little brandy, 
 doctor." 
 
 "Don t excite yourself, Mr. Barrington ; is all this neces 
 sary?" 
 
 "In Justice, yes," he replied, his strength revived by the
 
 THE WAGES OF 8IN. 293 
 
 liquor. "Muriel, my love, can you look upon your hus 
 band dying, who has done you a grievous wrong ?" 
 
 "I can t believe it but if is so, I forgive you before 
 you speak it." 
 
 "That gives me new life! Your boy Guyon who was 
 stolen I your husband caused it to gain his inherit 
 ance." 
 
 "No, no ! you could not have done that ! You, the best 
 of men! Your mind is wandering, is it not? Say that 
 it is doctor!" 
 
 "Humph ! I m not so sure of that. Be sparing of your 
 words, lady ; his time is short." 
 
 "I caused your son to be abducted, and I would have 
 killed him to-night; Muriel don t turn away I m 
 dying ! Great God ! have mercy " 
 
 They thought that the last moment had come ; for he had 
 fallen back in an unconscious state. No one spoke. The 
 deepest silence filled the chamber, only Esther s sobbing 
 broke it, as she lay, her face buried in Mabel s bosom. 
 Then, suddenly, Perry rose, half-sitting upon the couch; 
 and, in a voice which seemed to come from another world, 
 he exclaimed: "Muriel, this man your son Guy on 
 Beau ," and he fell back dead. 
 
 The last scene in the life of Perry Barrington had ended. 
 His crimes, his hypocrisy, and his shortcomings had gone 
 with him before the Supreme Judge, and the curtain fell 
 upon the one great act of reparation and atonement made 
 Guyon was restored to his Mother. 
 
 They were sitting in her boudoir that night, Guyon and 
 Esther, while his newly-found Mother lay upon her couch 
 near by. Harold had volunteered to make all necessary 
 arrangements for the bereaved family, and Guyon had 
 warmly accepted his offer.
 
 294: A GENTLEMAN BORN. 
 
 "Dearest Mother," he was saying, "do not grieve so. 
 Surely it is not all sorrow for you now." 
 
 "No, Guyon, my boy. Come here close to me, and you 
 also, Esther, you are brother and sister now. Let me look 
 into your eyes. How strange that I did not recognize you 
 when I met you on different occasions !" 
 
 "Am I so like my Father?" asked Guyon softly, as he 
 tenderly smoothed his Mother s forehead. 
 
 "So like him," she murmured, "as he was when I first 
 knew him. Perry was his one great friend then. To 
 think that he could have done it !" 
 
 "We must not dwell upon that, Mother dear, it is 
 passed. We have forgiven him; and his memory at least 
 shall be respected." 
 
 "How good of you!" Muriel said, looking at her son, 
 her eyes suffused with tears. "And I supposed you dead 
 all these years, whereas you were alive, growing to be H 
 great, strong man, and educated, too, to assume your 
 proper position. How did it all come about?" 
 
 "I had a pretty hard tussle of it, Mother. I will tell 
 you some time. You are not well enough now to hear the 
 recital." 
 
 "But I wish it, Guyon." 
 
 "Yes, Guy, please tell us," said Esther; "the narrative 
 will cause Mother to forget her other sorrow." 
 
 And so Guyon began, relating all his adventures as well 
 as he could recall them. Indeed, the events of his check 
 ered career had been so vividly impressed upon his mine!, 
 that his memory was not overtaxed in telling them. He 
 passed hurriedly over his sojourn among the Italians, the 
 Jews, and the lower Irish on Cherry Street, although even 
 the mention of his having lived in those places filled his 
 Mother with horror. 
 
 "You worked as a common street urchin selling papers.
 
 THE WAGES OF SIN. 295 
 
 and lived in a hovel, you, my son and Clarence s! oh, how 
 dreadful I" she exclaimed. 
 
 When he told of the tiny house on Pearl Street, Esther 
 was interested, and asked if the old man really had much 
 money hidden away. 
 
 "I would not be surprised," Guyon replied. "He was a 
 very penurious old fellow, as I remember him, and must 
 have accumulated quite a tidy fortune. I shall hunt him 
 up some day/ 
 
 The McCartys came in for an unbounded share of his 
 Mother s praise. 
 
 "They did all that for you, Guyon," she said. "Just 
 as though you were their own child. How splendid of 
 them! They are really deserving of better things. We 
 shall have them with us for a time, when our mourning 
 period is over." 
 
 "How the old man will miss you, Guy," said Esther. 
 "Of course you were good and kind to them." 
 
 "I tried to be. Surely, if I were not, I would have shown 
 the blackest ingratitude." 
 
 He told also of Biglin, and of his earnest endeavors tj 
 find the clew to his parentage. How he had been his great 
 friend from his earliest days, and his Mother declared then 
 and there that Biglin should receive a princely reward. 
 
 "You don t know him, Mother," Guyon replied with 
 something like a smile, the first that had crossed hid 
 countenance that night. "He is a peculiar fellow, and 
 believes that all he has done for me is but a part of his 
 duty to his brudder/ as he calls me." 
 
 "But we have found you at last; or rather, you have 
 found us, and you will never leave your Mother, especially 
 now in her lonely widowed state, will you, Guy ?" 
 
 "Never, Mother," he replied, pressing an affectionate 
 kiss upon her forehead. "It is so restful, so peaceful at
 
 296 A GENTLEMAN BORN. 
 
 your side. It comes to me now that I experienced the same 
 sensation when I was near you before, only I could not 
 account for it then." 
 
 After a while, Guyon and Esther persuaded their Mother 
 to retire, Esther refusing to go to her own apartment. 
 So Guyon kissed his Mother good-night, then Esther put up 
 her pretty little mouth to be kissed. The action was so 
 simple, so spontaneous, that he could not resist hugging her, 
 bidding her keep a watchful guard over Mother, and not 
 allow her to leave the room. Then he retired to his own 
 apartment. 
 
 But in the gray hours of morning, when all was quiet 
 in the house, a lone figure, attired in a dressing 
 gown, slipped from Muriel s room. Quietly she descended 
 the stair, and slowly opened the door of that other 
 chamber where something lay, awful in the solemnity of 
 Seath. She paused a moment, as the horror of the scene 
 came upon her then, going over, raised the covering 
 from off the face. There was one piercing cry of anguish 
 and a heavy thud, as she fell to the floor.
 
 DOUBTING. 297 
 
 CHAPTER XXXIV. 
 
 DOUBTING. 
 
 THAT same evening, whilst Guyon was conversing with 
 his Mother and sister, Mabel Gordon was sitting alone in 
 her boudoir. She had slipped out noiselessly from the library 
 when the denouement had come, desiring the privacy and 
 quiet of her chamber for some reflections on the event 
 which had just transpired. It was all so sudden, so shock 
 ing that her guardian, her Father s trusted and most 
 esteemed friend, should have attempted the life of Guyon 
 that he should have been compelled, as it were, at the 
 bourne of life, to confess the awful crime against the young 
 man, and declare at last his relationship to Mrs. Barring- 
 ton. 
 
 She was reclining on her couch, where she had thrown 
 herself, gazing into the crackling, spluttering logs on the 
 hearth. One arm, as delicate and white as chiseled marble, 
 was tossed above her head, while her hair, loose an dis 
 hevelled, fell in luxuriant tresses over her shoulders. Her 
 eyes were bright with a strange new light which was not 
 unmixed with vexation as her thoughts wandered apace. 
 
 "The last barriers are removed. His position is really 
 all that one could wish for. Oh, why am I thinking of him 
 at all, after what Harold told me ! That letter if I had 
 not known it all ! If I could believe that there was some 
 palliating excuse for his conduct but no. There could be 
 none to cause him to lower himself to such a degree. That
 
 298 A GENTLEMAN BORN. 
 
 other girl ! am I jealous ? to own as much would portend 
 that I love hush! these walls must not bear witness to 
 my blush! And that story which Harold told about his 
 having known her from infancy perhaps he loves her! 
 Again the suspicion of jealousy. Oh, dear me ! I am truly 
 in a dilemma," she exclaimed, and she endeavored to divert 
 her thoughts into another channel. 
 
 She pictured the scene in Mrs. Barrington s room, how 
 pleasant it would be for Esther now, having a brother to 
 care for her; and the good, kind lady who had been 
 for so long a second Mother to herself what must be 
 her feelings to-night? "Imagine me married for years 
 to a man who was leading a hypocritical, criminal life! 
 Would my love prove equal to the ordeal she has just passed 
 through ? Could I love and revere his memory ? And, yet, 
 those words of forgiveness which were spoken, and Guyon s. 
 too ! Certainly he must be noble at heart." Again 
 the same old train of musing came. She knew that she 
 must love him was it love? that sensation of awakening 
 joy? If it were only more bright and unclouded! 
 
 How the hours sped by, she did not know. She had not 
 retired, the lights were still shedding their brilliancy 
 through her apartment, when, through the windows, came 
 a tinge of another color. Was it the moon, breaking its 
 storm-cloud prison and shimmering on the snowy case 
 ment ? or was it the first ray of dawn ? Just then, she heard 
 the scream from the room below. It startled her from 
 her reveries and dreams. She sprang from the couch, 
 while the recollection came swift upon her that there 
 from whence the sound came, was the chamber of death. 
 
 Mabel Gordon was not a girl to be stricken by a sudden 
 terror. Appalling as the idea appeared which thrust itself 
 upon her imagination, she hastily drew a cloak around 
 her light apparel, and boldly descended to the lower floor.
 
 DOUBTING. 299 
 
 Then, as she entered the room, by the aid of the light 
 burning dimly, she saw the form of Mrs. Barrington beside 
 the bier. Another girl would have cried aloud for as 
 sistance. Mabel uttered not a word. Bending over the 
 prostrate form, she chafed her hands, and temples, and 
 was striving to raise her, when she heard another step 
 approaching. Never, perhaps, was she at the same time 
 more thankful and abashed than when she beheld Guyon 
 entering. Neither said a word. He had not seen her 
 since her entrance into the library the previous night. Hau 
 she heard all ? Did she know that the obstacles to his love 
 were removed? These were the first thoughts that came 
 to him when his eyes met hers; but he learned nothing 
 from the glance. Mutely she pointed to his Mother s form, 
 and he was at her side in an instant. 
 
 "Mother!" he said, "Mother, you here, and uncon 
 scious ?" 
 
 "Shall we summon Hastings?" queried Mabel. 
 
 "No, it is not necessary. How did you come here, Miss 
 Gordon?" 
 
 "I heard the noise from my boudoir above, and came." 
 
 "A girl in a thousand," he thought; then to Mabel: 
 "May I ask you to go to my Mother s room and awaken 
 Esther? Have the smelling salts and a little brandy and 
 water ready. I will carry my Mother up there instantly." 
 
 Without pausing to question his strength or ability, 
 Mabel flew to do his bidding; and Guyon raising that 
 dear form as gently and lightly as though it were a child, 
 bore her to her room and laid her upon the couch, while 
 Esther and Mabel rendered what aid they could. 
 
 After a time Muriel revived; but when it was later, 
 Guyon summoned Doctor Bruce who, without hesitating 
 declared that Mrs. Barrington was a sick woman, and must 
 remain in bed for several days.
 
 300 A GENTLEMAN BORN. 
 
 Hence it was that some time elapsed after Perry Barring- 
 ton s remains had been laid to rest, before his widow was 
 able to be about, to grace the household scenes once more 
 with her presence, and spread the influence of her patient, 
 winsome nature over the sorrow-stricken atmosphere of 
 home. 
 
 There was a great funeral. At least so society said, 
 and it must have been true. The church which Mr. Bar- 
 rington had attended for so many years, and in which 
 he was known as a brilliant light, was thronged with 
 the creme de la creme; all properly shocked to learn of 
 his sudden death. The eulogy, too, was all that could ba 
 desired. Fulsome in praise, holding up the deceased as 
 an example of integrity and purity of life; as a model 
 husband; as a man public-spirited and open-hearted; 
 charitable, and true to the interests of his friends. Alas. 
 the pity of it ! What a parody on poor Perry s life ! How 
 he would have laughed in his sleeve, so to speak, if he had 
 heard the same during his lifetime, in the palmiest days 
 of his acting. 
 
 Down near the entrance of the church, crouching in r, 
 pew, heavily veiled and in mourning garb, was one who 
 perhaps shared the grief of the nearest relatives. It was 
 Mildred. When the news of Perry s death came to her. 
 all the memory of the ill-treatment she had received, the 
 insults and abuse, the torture he had brought to her life, 
 was banished. She thought of him as one whom she had 
 once loved as only woman can intensely love. The smould 
 ering flame of that deep devotion burned lively now as 
 she bowed her head, and real earnest tears flowed silently 
 her one pure tribute to his memory. 
 
 The Barrington home was closed for the second time 
 in the memory of old Hastings, the butler. This good 
 old man, hearing, as a privileged servant, of Guyon s
 
 DOUBTING 301 
 
 return, bestowed upon him his most undivided attention. 
 For hours together he would place himself in a position 
 where he could get a good look at the young master, as he 
 called him, muttering to himself that the Lord might have 
 spared that villain Barrington until he could have ad 
 ministered a wholesome chastisement. 
 
 Guyon saw no one saving Harold, who called frequently, 
 and Mr. and Mrs. Brandon, the latter spending most of her 
 time with her old friend, endeavoring to divert her thoughts 
 from too gloomy subjects, urging her at times to give up 
 the old place with all its unsavory memories, and take a 
 Southern trip. But Muriel would not consent to the ar 
 rangement. 
 
 "Do you know what Esther was telling me last evening ?" 
 said Harold one night, when he was sitting in Guyon s room 
 chatting upon various topics of interest. 
 
 "Doubtless something concerning yourself, old fellow." 
 
 "Not a bit of it, Guy. She talks Guyon, Guyon, con 
 tinuously until I am so wearied that I plead with her to 
 change the conversation." 
 
 "You cannot blame Esther. She is my sister now, and 
 I am very much devoted her." 
 
 "Keally! I don t see particularly why you should be. 
 She s only your half-sister, anyway." 
 
 "But she is my Mother s child, Hal, and all the traits 
 of her character are hers." 
 
 "I endorse the sentiment most heartily; and when I 
 think of it, I never fail to add, for which, Lord, we 
 are truly thankful !" 
 
 "But what was Esther saying?" 
 
 "Oh, yes. She says that Mabel is talking of returning 
 to Eichmond." 
 
 "The deuce you say ! What on earth is the trouble ? Is 
 she not contented here ?"
 
 302 A GENTLEMAN BORN. 
 
 "Apparently not." 
 
 "Why? Is my presence intolerable to her?" 
 
 "I m sure I don t know. Why don t you ask her?" 
 
 "I couldn t do that. It wouldn t be just the thing under 
 the existing circumstances; still, I have noticed that she 
 avoids me, will not enter into conversation with me alone, 
 and, in fact, appears to look upon me as an intruder." 
 
 "Nonsense, Guy ! that s all bosh ! The fact of the matter 
 k, that I m a little to blame for it all." 
 
 "You, Hal! of all the world? I cannot believe it." 
 
 "Listen. You remember that she was desirous of having 
 me ferret out the facts contained in Barclay s letter." 
 
 "Yes ; and you did so." 
 
 "She was also anxious to learn the result, and I was 
 obliged to tell her." 
 
 "You told her all?" 
 
 "I assure you, it was under the hottest fire I would ever 
 care to sustain. My, she would make a capital lawyer! 
 The way she cross-questioned me about my finding you in 
 Dimples apartment; how you came to know Dimples; 
 how long you had known her, and the like." 
 
 "Great God! This is too much, Hal. To think that 
 now, when it seemed all clear sailing, my chance of win 
 ning her is thus cut off!" 
 
 "Don t be too hasty. It is not so bad that you should 
 bury yourself in the depths, and then seek the light through 
 the medium of opium again." 
 
 "Nonsense ! have I not my Mother ?" 
 
 "Of course your Mother counts for something but she 
 if? not your sweetheart." 
 
 "Don t try to jolly me, Hal. I m not in the humor for 
 it. Do you think she really detests me because of what 
 you have said?" 
 
 "I am certain that she has not the highest opinion
 
 DOUBTING. 303 
 
 of you. How foolish some women are! "What do they 
 look for in man? An angel, exalted above all mundane 
 thoughts and desires? For my part, if I were a girl, I 
 wouldn t let that little episode of yours have tne minimum 
 cf weight in the balance of love." 
 
 "You do not know her, Hal/ 
 
 "I think that I have had the pleasure of her acquaint 
 ance a little longer than you." 
 
 "True ; but you forget that she is a girl of the warmest 
 and most noble nature, concealed for the greater part under 
 a cold and seemingly trifling exterior. Her ideals are 
 the purest and most lofty." 
 
 "And I am thankful that Esther doesn t give herself 
 such high fallutin ideas. I m fairly good; but I m not 
 a saint nor an angel either." 
 
 "What is your advice in this instance, grave mentor?" 
 queried Guyon, who did not like his friend s trivial re 
 marks. 
 
 "Seriously, I would ask your good Mother to use her in 
 fluence with Miss Gordon to prevent her departure. She 
 idolizes your Mother, thinks that there is no one like 
 her in the world." 
 
 "Nor is there, Hal." 
 
 "Except a certain Southern lass, whose warmth of 
 nature has been chilled by the Northern blast Forgive 
 me, Guy, I couldn t help it, really." 
 
 "Mother will perceive that I am interested in Miss Gor 
 don." 
 
 "Why shouldn t you be, at least for Esther s sake ? The 
 poor little lass is even now disconsolate at the thought of 
 losing her chum." 
 
 "I will do it, Hal. Then, if she still persists in her 
 determination, I will go away for a while." 
 
 The following day, Guyon had a long talk with his
 
 304 A GENTLEMAN BORN. 
 
 Mother. One of those morning-room talks which Muriel 
 enjoyed so much; only she was somewhat anxious about 
 him, he had appeared sad and depressed for some days. 
 
 "What is troubling you, my son ?" she asked, as he seated 
 himself at hej side. 
 
 "Many things, Mother dear. Most of all lest my presence 
 here should be a cause of annoyance to anyone." 
 
 "Impossible ! how could that be ? Not to Esther nor to 
 myself, I am certain; are we not delighted to have found 
 you, my boy?" 
 
 "Miss Gordon is talking of leaving," Guyon said with 
 seme hesitancy. 
 
 "And if she should wish to go, why do you ascribe the 
 ciiuse to yourself?" asked Muriel, looking full into her 
 son s honest brown eyes; "is there anything between you, 
 dear?" 
 
 "Nothing, I assure you, Mother. I have not spoken to 
 her privately since I came; still she appears to avoid my 
 society." 
 
 "That is strange ! Now that I recall it, I have myself 
 remarked the same thing ; but I put it down to the sudden 
 change of events in our quiet household, and to her en 
 deavoring to reconcile your past position with the present, 
 nothing more. She is a girl in a thousand, Guyon. When 
 you are prepared to settle in life, I wish that your wife , 
 would be such a one as she." 
 
 "Honestly, do you, Mother ?" and Guyon told all his old 
 longings, his hopes and fears, and the havoc which it 
 had made in his life. 
 
 "Poor boy ! So you really love her ? You wish her to 
 remain ?" 
 
 "Not only for my sake ; but for your own and Esther s. 
 She has been with you so long. She is almost a daughter, 
 is she not?"
 
 DOUBTING. 305 
 
 "Truly, Guyon, it would grieve me to part with her 
 now. I will try to persuade her never fear, dearest, your 
 secret shall be safe in my keeping." 
 
 So it happened that Mabel did not leave the Beaumont 
 mansion, as it was called now; and Guyon, conscious that 
 her changed resolution was due to no other motive than a 
 desire to gratify his Mother, went away on a short trip, 
 a shooting expedition on the Southern Coasts, taking Hal 
 along for company; and while Muriel was loathe to part 
 with her son so soon after she had recovered him, she was 
 convinced that his determination was right, and bade 
 him not lose courage, for she would pray for his final 
 success.
 
 306 A GENTLEMAN BORN. 
 
 CHAPTER XXXV. 
 
 ON CHRISTMAS EVE. 
 
 "WHAT are you grieving about, my dear?" 
 
 "Why do you ask the question ? Do I look careworn and 
 dejected, Pet?" 
 
 "Honestly you do. You have not assumed your wonted 
 cheerfulness since poor Papa died. Really, I don t think 
 you have smiled once." 
 
 "Haven t I? Well, a house of mourning is not exactly 
 the place for laughter or merriment." 
 
 "You wanted to go away, I know. It was so good of you 
 to stay here with all the gloomy surroundings, just for 
 cur sakes, Mama s and mine, when you might have been 
 having a glorious time in Richmond." 
 
 "Even if I had gone away, I do not think that I could 
 have entered into the social whirl at my old home with 
 all the vigor of former days." 
 
 "Here it is Christmas Eve ! Don t it seem strange that 
 we are not having a big time? How we planned and 
 worked for the holiday celebration !" 
 
 "L homme propose, mais le bon Dieu dispose." 
 
 They were sitting in the drawing-room, this saddest 
 Christmas Eve of all in Esther s remembrance. After 
 dinner, Mrs. Barrington had joined them, and the three 
 l&dies were endeavoring, each in her own way to throw 
 off the shadow of sadness which seemed to settle more 
 than usually heavy upon the household. Muriel had heard 
 from Guyon but once during the two weeks of his absence ;
 
 ON CHRISTMAS EVE. 307 
 
 then his letter was so vague, with no mention of a definite 
 time for his return, that her motherly heart sustained a 
 pang of disappointment in her new-found son. Although 
 she knew well the cause of his absence, and imagined what 
 the sacrifice must have cost him, still, she required the 
 manly strength of his presence, and, above all, his filial 
 affection. 
 
 After conversing with the young ladies for some time, 
 she left them, saying that she wished to be alone for awhile ; 
 and they, being left together, Esther broached the sub 
 ject which had been uppermost in her mind since her 
 brother s departure. 
 
 "Do you know, I believe Mother is grieving because of 
 Guyon s absence," she said, after a few moments pause; 
 and she took her friend s hand in her own, marvelling 
 that it was so icy cold. 
 
 "Doubtless she is. Why did he go, I wonder? * 
 
 "As though you do not know!" 
 
 "I know? How silly, child! Did he not say that he 
 was going for a little shooting expedition? Surely there 
 is nothing in that." 
 
 "Perhaps not on the surface. I thought you knew 
 Guyon better. There was a time in my remembrance when 
 you appeared to have a deep insight into his character. 
 Do you recall the morning when you received that letter, 
 and how warmly you espoused his cause?" 
 
 "Yes," rather faintly. "Please don t speak of that, 
 Esther. My, how cold it is!" 
 
 "Let us draw up nearer the fire shall I get you a 
 wrap ?" 
 
 "No, thanks, I am warmer already. How cheerful the 
 glow from the log-fire." 
 
 "Yes; but, May dear," said the young girl, looking 
 earnestly into the countenance of her friend, "tell me, are
 
 308 A GENTLEMAN BORN. 
 
 you truly ignorant of the real cause of my brother s de 
 parture ?" 
 
 "How should I know ?" Mabel replied with well-assumed 
 indifference. 
 
 "It was because of you. He did not tell me; but I 
 guessed it from something that Harold said." 
 
 "Because of me I" Miss Gordon exclaimed, and a tinge of 
 color lighted up her pallid cheeks. 
 
 "Yes," Esther whispered, "he thinks very much of you, 
 May; and when he saw that you shunned his company, 
 ever since he has been with us, and when you wished to 
 leave, he thought it best for him to go ; that he being away, 
 you would feel less constrained and more happy." 
 
 "All this is your own foolish imagining, Esther dear. 
 How can you know so much .of your brother s inmost 
 thoughts and feelings, when he has not spoken to you on 
 the subject?" 
 
 "Well, I may be wrong. You should know better than 
 I, May, for you have had more experience; still, I wish 
 that he hadn t gone, since you are so miserable." 
 
 "Oh, Esther, if you knew it all! All the cause of my 
 imhappiness ; but no, I cannot tell it not even to you." 
 
 "If it would make things easier for you, dearest? 
 Listen, aren t we all but sisters? Have we ever kept a 
 secret from each other?" 
 
 "Not until now. This is too great, too awful for you 
 to hear! I would not shock your innocent ears with the 
 recital." 
 
 "You do not mean anything concerning Guyon? Some 
 one has been talking ill of him. Oh, May, did you not 
 tell me once, when I scarcely knew him, that I should 
 not doubt his integrity? And now, that he is one of 
 us, my own almost brother, my Mother s child, you say 
 all this?"
 
 ON CHRISTMAS EVE. 309 
 
 "Great Heaven ! what have I done?" cried Mabel. "No, 
 child, trust him to the fullest extent believe him innocent, 
 honorable and good." 
 
 "But you!" 
 
 "I I do not ask me more to-night. It would have 
 been better if I had left you all when I first resolved upon 
 it." 
 
 "Listen!" Esther cried, jumping up in excitement. 
 "There is the sound of sleigh-bells. They are stopping 
 at our house ! Who can it be, I wonder ?" and she ran to 
 the window and peered out through the heavy drapery. 
 "It s a man, tall, all wrapped in furs and another just 
 Hal s size! Oh, May, I m sure it s they!" 
 
 "I must go to my room," Mabel said ; "I am in no con 
 dition to meet them to-night." 
 
 But before she could make good her escape, Guyon en 
 tered the room, accompanied by his chum, Harold Bran 
 don. 
 
 "Couldn t wait even to shake off the snow or change our 
 apparel; you must excuse us this once, ladies," said Har 
 old. 
 
 "As though there was any need of it! Come over to 
 the fire. Eing for Hastings, will you, Guy? Oh, don t 
 hug me so hard, even if you are my big brother." 
 
 "I wish that I were even your little brother," muttered 
 Harold, "I d give anything for a like privilege. Miss 
 Gordon, you are as beautiful as ever, only a trifle paler, 
 I think." 
 
 "Do you, really? Probably it s the light. You know 
 my complexion does not always stand the severest test." 
 
 By this time, Hastings had appeared, and relieved the 
 young men of their great coats and wrappings; then 
 they sat down with the ladies beside the roaring fire. 
 
 "It s such a grand surprise ! Mother will be more than
 
 310 A GENTLEMAN BORN. 
 
 delighted to see you, Guy," said Esther. "She has been 
 talking about you to-night, wondering why you had not 
 written." 
 
 "It was boorish in me, but Hal can tell you that we 
 hadn t a ghost of a chance to catch the mail but once. We 
 got out on an island in some out of way place off the coast 
 of Georgia any amount of shooting; but no society save 
 a few aborigines and our own precious selves." 
 
 "You must have enjoyed the solitude," Mabel said with 
 the faintest suspicion of a smile. 
 
 "Enjoy it? You wouldn t say that, May, if you had 
 seen him, wandering around like a troubled spirit after 
 the day s sport was over, and pacing the camp at night 
 like a sturdy sentinel on duty." 
 
 "Did he do that?" queried Esther. "I really can t see 
 what fun there was in it. Why did you remain?" 
 
 "That s what I said to him," Harold replied. "Do you 
 know, Esther, I wanted to come home " 
 
 "I don t believe you !" 
 
 "Very well, that s your privilege. I simply state that 
 I wished to return for business reasons. My studies, you 
 are aware, were sacrificed for my outing." 
 
 "There! I knew it was all your old studies or some 
 thing of that kind. Listen to him, May, isn t he perfectly 
 horrible, and just when he s come home!" 
 
 "Hal, I forbid your treatin~ my sister so brutally. He 
 is really joking, Pet, I can vouch for it that he almost 
 went on his knees to me, entreating me to return 
 sooner." 
 
 "Ha, ha! and you Miss May, would you believe that 
 Guy had a certain young lady on his mind all the time, 
 the imaginary fear of whom " 
 
 "Hal, another word, and our friendship ends."
 
 ON CHRISTMAS EVE. 311 
 
 "End of first act, bravo ! Well said, my gallant hero ! 
 We shall name no names, but cry a truce." 
 
 "And I ve so much to say to you, Harold," murmured the 
 little Miss of April temper, who had been near to tears 
 a moment ago, "let s adjourn to that cosy tete-a-tete over 
 there." 
 
 "Good! It s regularly moved and seconded that we 
 two adjourn. Question! All in favor " 
 
 "I say no," Mabel replied, shrinking from the possibility 
 of being left alone with Guyon. 
 
 "You re the minority, for Guyon has not voted," re 
 plied Harold, rising as he spoke ; and Esther, looking back, 
 nodded encouragingly to her brother. 
 
 There was a moment or two of silence, broken by the 
 peals of laughter from the further end of the room where 
 Harold and Esther were snugly ensconced. 
 
 "Are you glad that I have returned?" Guyon asked in 
 a low tone. "You have not as yet said a word of welcome." 
 
 "Of course, we are delighted, if only for your Mother s 
 sake, Mr. Beaumont. Was it not cruel to leave her at 
 such a time as this, only a week or two after her bereave 
 ment, and for pleasure?" 
 
 "That is your idea of my going? I did not think you 
 could judge me so harshly. However, I will tell you that 
 my dear Mother knew the true cause, and much as she 
 regretted my leaving home, she approved of my decision. 1 
 
 "I am pleased to hear that," replied Miss Gordon 
 simply, her eyes cast down, and her hands toying nervously 
 with her handkerchief. Even though she wished to follow 
 the wiser dictates of her judgment, she could not but feel 
 more happy in Guyon s presence. 
 
 "Do you wish me to tell you the real cause?" he asked. 
 
 "As you will. Am I not a good listener?" 
 
 "It was because of your coldness, your avoiding me,
 
 312 A GENTLEMAN BORN. 
 
 and appearing miserable when I was near, I noticed all 
 this, and although I was at first ignorant of the reason, 
 and judged that it was only the old time aversion to me. 
 I determined that if my absence would bring a slight ray 
 of sunshine to you, I must go." 
 
 "But it did not. You misunderstood me." 
 
 "Perhaps I did. Do you mean that you were unhappy 
 while I was away?" 
 
 "Yes, since you ask me. I want you to see how foolish 
 it was in you to do this." 
 
 "Doubtless ! We are playing at riddles. Let us be out 
 spoken, Miss Gordon. I know the cause of your dis 
 pleasure, and I must make one effort to remove it. If I 
 fail, if you persist in believing me other than I am, our 
 friendship, I fear, must be but a sad memory." 
 
 Mabel remained silent, not trusting herself to speak, as 
 buoyant hope whispered to her that he was about to ex 
 onerate himself ; and her bosom heaved with ill suppressed 
 emotion. 
 
 "Harold has told me," continued Guyon, "that you de 
 sired information regarding the letter Barclay wrote. I 
 fear that all his words must have placed me in a very 
 unsavory light before your eyes; for he added that even 
 his attempt to justify my actions was not accepted." 
 
 "Really, Mr. Beaumont, I prefer not to go over all that 
 again. The memory of it is too shocking." 
 
 "I feared so; still, were I in my former position, it 
 would be different. Now, all is changed. I am known as 
 Mrs. Barrington s son, and as such, my character must 
 be cleared from the slightest shadow of reproach." 
 
 "What I have heard shall be well-guarded, I promise 
 you." 
 
 "Of that, I have not the slightest doubt," Guyon re 
 plied warmly. "But, Miss Gordon, truthfully, I care not
 
 ON CHRISTMAS EVE. 313 
 
 what others think, if you believe me to be the base creature 
 Barclay painted me." 
 
 "How can I think otherwise? the proofs." 
 
 "These I shall endeavor to disprove. You know what 
 kind of a man Barclay is. I shall say nothing of the part 
 which Mr. Barrington assumed his past is buried with 
 him. The time for carrying out the scheme was well 
 planned. I was overwhelmed with the deepest melancholy, 
 all my long and fruitless attempts to find my parentage had 
 apparently come to a close, there was nothing further for 
 me in that direction. Then, too, one other cherished 
 aim, of which I cannot speak to you now, had vanished. 
 God only knows how sorely I was tried! It was at that 
 noment I met Barclay. He had spoken to me on a previous 
 occasion of opium smoking as a panacea for depression. 
 I grasped the idea, went with him to what he called his 
 bachelor apartments, smoked the drug, and found re 
 lief." 
 
 "And you were weak enough to contract the habit/ 
 Mabel murmured, still avoiding his gaze, but drinking 
 in eagerly his every word. 
 
 "I was weak ! that is my only excuse. It may be a poor 
 one, but no one can picture my condition mentally and 
 physically. Then, while I was there, he introduced the 
 second part of the plot. I shall not dwell upon it. He told 
 you that I was smoking in the society of an actress. That 
 was true and she, thank Heaven! was the girl whom 
 I found when a baby. She was in those days as a sister 
 to me only nothing more, I can swear to it." 
 
 "She made love to you, Harold said." 
 
 "If she did, poor child, she has paid bitterly for her 
 error." 
 
 "You did not return her love?" Mabel asked, looking
 
 314 A GENTLEMAN BORN. 
 
 for the first time into his eyes, and reading there the 
 truth of his statement. 
 
 "No, as Heaven is my witness, I did not. I pitied her 
 fate. I rejoiced when she left the place and went to live 
 with her Mother whom she had found, that was all. Now, 
 before you say a word, Miss Gordon, is it too much for me 
 to ask you to banish your preconceived ideas from your 
 mind ; will you at least trust in my honor as a gentleman ? ; 
 
 "I should be ashamed to do less," Mabel replied, draw 
 ing herself up proudly. "Yes, I trust you for your 
 Mother s sake/ 
 
 "That is all," Guyon murmured. 
 
 "I am thankful it is not as I thought," she said, rising, 
 while the light in her beautiful eyes, no longer clouded, 
 was sufficient for him. "I must go now," she said, "your 
 Mother will be anxious to see you." 
 
 "I shall go to her directly, good-night, Miss Gordon, 5 
 be said, taking her hand, "we shall at least be friends 
 now." 
 
 "I think I can promise you that," she replied, smiling.
 
 WHISPERINGS OF LOVE. 315 
 
 CHAPTER XXXVI. 
 
 WHISPERINGS OF LOVE. 
 
 "Ms. GUY, a man wants to see you," said Hastings, 
 as Guyon stood at the door, waiting for Miss Gordon to 
 pass. 
 
 "A man? Where is he, Hastings?" 
 
 "In the reception-room, sir. He s been waiting some 
 time, but I couldn t interrupt you, sir." 
 
 And Guyon, entering the room", beheld the old contractor 
 seated uncomfortably on the edge of a chair. 
 
 "It s a sight fer sore eyes ter see ye, Guy Mister Beau 
 mont, I mean, hang it, I can t git on ter it at all, at all. 
 
 "I m more than delighted to see you, Dad. Call me 
 Guy, and don t bother about anything else. Here, Has 
 tings, get some of that good whiskey, and a couple of my 
 long clays from my room." 
 
 "Ah, sure ye re me own b y just the same wid all yer 
 grate belongings, Guy 1" exclaimed the old gentleman, as he 
 sipped the whiskey, and pu""^ a great whiff from his clay 
 pipe. 
 
 "How is Mrs. McCarty, Dad? I intended to drop in 
 and see you all; but so much has transpired, and I have 
 only now returned after an absence of two weeks." 
 
 "Have ye, now? Well, the Missus an me does be 
 turribly lonely, Guy, that s the Gospel truth. Av coorse. 
 we heard all about the trouble here, an Biglin wus after 
 tellin me as how ye d succeeded at last. Then, since the
 
 316 A GENTLEMAN BORN. 
 
 funeral, the Missus gave me no pace till I cum up ter 
 see yees." 
 
 "That was very good of her; and of you, too, in com- 
 ing." 
 
 "An yer Mother s well? God bless her!" 
 
 "She is in fairly good health, considering the shock she 
 sustained." 
 
 "True fer ye. Yer niver seed me so conflumixed in yer 
 life as whin I heard about that same villain, sure, it s 
 small loss he is, at all. An sez I: I m not flyin in the 
 face of Providince, God forbid ! but ef the Lord had only 
 let that man live til I got me hands on im, he d not be 
 taken a whole bone in is body ter the grave ! ; 
 
 "Don t let us talk of him, Dad. He repented at last, 
 and made reparation for his crime." 
 
 "Faith, he did so pace be ter im, ef he s phweie pace 
 is." 
 
 "You say that you have seen Biglin. Why does he keep 
 away from me? I wish very much to see him." 
 
 "Does ye, now! The poor lad s a most as bad in the 
 dumps as ye wus yersel , Guy, in those days. He sez r,s 
 ye re too swell now ter look at im, an all because of his 
 findin out yer folks fer ye." 
 
 "Does he say that? Ha, ha! I think I can convince 
 him to the contrary. You will not see him to-morrow, 
 no, that will be Christmas day ; but the day after as soon 
 as you meet him, bid him come to me." 
 
 "I ll do that, Guy, the more be token that he s a good 
 lad, an deservin of annything ye can do fer im. An 
 phwat ll ye be doin yersel , I dunno? There s me bisness. 
 fallin off, an goin ter the dogs since ye lift us. Not that 
 I mind so much seein I ve a tidy bit o money now, an 
 the Missus is after me ter retire altogether." 
 
 "Not a bad idea, Dad. I strongly advise it. You are
 
 WHISPERINGS OF LOVE. 317 
 
 not as young as you used to be. You have worked hard 
 all your life lay back on your oars, and enjoy yourself." 
 
 "Maybe I will ; but phwat ll I be doin at home all the 
 time, wid the Missus plaguin me life out ter git inter 
 sassiety ?" 
 
 "She still harps on the old subject?" Guyon said, not 
 a little amused as he remembered how often it had been 
 broached in former days. 
 
 "Faith, she does that, bad cess ter it 1" 
 
 "Well, who knows but that her wish may be fulfilled. 
 My Mother has spoken in the warmest terms of you both, 
 and will doubtless, when the occasion presents itself, make 
 an effort to gratify Mrs. McCarty s desire." 
 
 "An I ll not be tellin her of that now, er she d go 
 buildin castles in the air of phwat she d do, and phwat 
 she d say, whin she makes her debut, that s phwat ye 
 calls it, ain t it, now?" 
 
 "I believe so," Guyon replied, smiling to himself, as 
 he thought of the ancient "Missus" posing as a young and 
 blushing debutante. "There is one subject on my mind, 
 Dad, in which I think you can assist me. Don t spare the 
 whiskey or tobacco, sir, make yourself perfectly at home." 
 
 "That s phwat I m tryin ter do. Only I can t jest git 
 the hang of these chairs," replied the old contractor. 
 "Sure, I ll do annything in the world I kin fer ye, Guy, 
 ef it s only ter kape up the auld acquaintance wid ye." 
 
 "Not so bad as that, Dad. You remember my telling 
 of the girl whom Biglin and I rescued when we were little 
 chaps. Well, I wish to make a little settlement upon her. 
 out of my fortune, to raise her and her Mother above the 
 possibility of want." 
 
 "Phew ! an phwy wud ye do that, Guy ?" 
 
 "Because of a wrong done her Mother you can keep 
 & secret Mr. Barrington was the girl s Father, and to
 
 318 A GENTLEMAN BORN. 
 
 avoid the scandal coining to my Mother s ears, I will place 
 a certain sum to your credit. You shall see these people, 
 and conjure up the most plausible story you can think of, 
 some distant relation of the Mother has died and left 
 it to them anything of the kind you understand; 
 then urge upon them the advisability of leaving the country, 
 traveling for their health, you know." 
 
 "Faith, it s a good ale yer axin o me, Guy ; but I ll do 
 it fer yer sake." 
 
 "I would not have you inconvenience yourself, Dad." 
 
 "It s only this, Guy. Ye see, the Missus might git a 
 hold o me goin ter visit these people, an ef she oncet got 
 inter her head that they wasn t jest right, I might es well 
 give up livin entirely." 
 
 "Surely there is no danger of that, Dad. Kemember, 
 both M ther and daughter are respectable people now, 
 and if the Missus should hear of your visit, well just 
 mention my name to her; that will smooth over all 
 difficulties." 
 
 "So it will, Guy, an I ll do that same fer ye. Now. 
 I must be lavin , fer it s late, I know; an I almost forgot 
 phwat I come fer. Well, ye know it s Christmas Ave; an* 
 I thought ye wouldn t mind me bringin ye a little bit o a 
 prisint, seein ye allus had un this blissid time since ye 
 come ter us," and the old gentleman turned away to hide 
 the tear which came unbidden to his eyes. 
 
 "This is kind of you, Dad. Just like your good old self. 
 If it wasn t that Mother is so lonely now, and that I ve 
 only just come back, I d go and eat Christmas dinner with 
 you." 
 
 "No, it wouldn t do. Ye belongs here now. Only only 
 I can t somehow git it out o me hed that ye re me own 
 b y yit. God bless ye, Guy dear, an may ye see manny 
 happy years!"
 
 WHISPERINGS Of LOVE. 310 
 
 Then, before Guyon could reply, the old contractor 
 hurried out into the hall, snatched up his great coat and 
 hat, and was gone. 
 
 "Dear, generous-hearted old Dad," said Guyon, as he 
 stood at the door, where Mr. McCarty had disappeared, 
 "how much better the world, aye, and our so-called cultured 
 society would be, were it regenerated in men of his stamp ! 
 What a difference between him and Barrington, for in 
 stance! But comparisons are odious. I must do some 
 thing for these people. They shall have a fling at social 
 life among us. Poor old Dad, I m afraid he ll get 
 strangely mixed up with it all." 
 
 Guyon here remembered that he had not paid his re 
 spects to his Mother since his return. She was doubtless 
 awaiting him. Going up softly to her boudoir, he found 
 her there. The meeting between mother and son was 
 truly pathetic. It was as though he had been away for 
 ages, so fondly did Muriel embrace him. And, as they 
 sat for a few moments together, she questioned him about 
 his outing had he enjoyed it? or had he longed to be 
 at home with her? 
 
 "Of course it was not like an ordinary pleasure trip, 
 Mother," he said, "when one is compelled to absent him 
 self on a pretence of seeking enjoyment, especially when 
 the affairs at home were such as you know them, it is more 
 of a penance than anything else." 
 
 "You have seen Mabel to-night, have you not?" 
 
 "Yes, I have endeavored to place myself before her in 
 a truer light." 
 
 "And you succeeded ! I knew you would, Guyon." 
 
 "I m not so sure, Mother. Yes, I believe she trusts 
 me now ; and I have disabused her mind of those ill-boding 
 thoughts against me. Still, I doubt if she loves me after 
 all."
 
 320 A GENTLEMAN BORN. 
 
 "If she respects you, my son, hope for better things. 
 Eespect in a woman s heart is but a step to love." 
 
 "Is it so, Mother? You do not know how greatly you 
 encourage me. I shall retire now to dream, and see visions 
 of halcyon days yet in store for me." 
 
 "Do so, my boy ! and may Heaven grant that your dreams 
 be realized." 
 
 As Guyon was passing from his Mother s boudoir to his 
 own chamber, in the uncertain light he saw a white ; 
 shadowy figure flit from his sister s room to that of Miss 
 Gordon. He did not give himself the trouble to investigate 
 the thing, believing that it might only be a shadow. But, if 
 he had paused, he would have found that it was Esther s 
 real self, arrayed in her light dressing gown, bent upon 
 paying a flying visit to her friend at this late hour. 
 
 "Don t be frightened, May dear. I really couldn t sleep 
 till I told you. I wanted to, before I left you to-night, 
 but it was so strange and funny, I just couldn t." 
 
 "What is it, Pet ? My, you are actually shivering with 
 the cold ! Here, put my cloak about you, and sit down by 
 the fire. Pshaw ! I believe there is none." 
 
 "I ll snuggle up close to you, if you don t mind," said 
 Esther, and suiting the action to the word, she almost 
 suffocated Mabel there and then. 
 
 "What is this great piece of news, child, that has caused 
 you to tumble out at so unseemly an hour?" Mabel asked, 
 pretending to be properly ignorant. 
 
 "Oh, I can t tell you even now ! Anyway, you wouldn t 
 know how I feel, would you?" 
 
 "What a strange question! Esther, are you really 
 awake ? or is this a bit of somnambulism ?" 
 
 "Not a bit of it! I m pretty wide-awake, I can tell 
 you. Couldn t sleep if I tried. Oh, May !" she exclaimed, 
 in a burst of confidence, "Harold asked me to be his wife."
 
 WHISPERINGS OF LOVE. 321 
 
 "For shame! he did, did he?" Mabel cried, pretending 
 to be mighty wroth. "So soon after all that has hap 
 pened, and before you have yet appeared in society* I 
 call it scandalous !" 
 
 "Now, May, you just hush ! You needn t go on in that 
 strain. Hal couldn t help it, indeed he couldn t. It all 
 came because of Guyon coming home, and my thinking 
 so much of him; and then Hal, when he was away, made 
 up his mind that he wouldn t wait any longer." 
 
 "Of course you told him that he must wait some time for 
 his answer." 
 
 "Indeed, I didn t. Oh, May ! how could I ? It all came 
 to me then, as he spoke, that I have loved him right along 
 for so many years that I can t count them. I know I m 
 awfully foolish, and young, and all that; and Mama will 
 stop it all, perhaps, but I m so happy do you mind. 
 May?" 
 
 "No, darling ! I m delighted for your sake," replied her 
 friend, with just a little choking sensation in her throat; 
 "only you must keep it quiet, you and Harold, and be 
 guided by what your Mother shall advise." 
 
 "Oh, that will be easy; now that we are sure of each 
 other, we can wait until doomsday; and, May, I wish you 
 could be as happy as I am," said the silly little Miss, 
 reaching up to kiss her chum, and surprised to find hot 
 tears on her cheek. "Why, are you crying, dear?" 
 
 "Am I crying? Perhaps it s from joy, because of your 
 happiness. Now run off to bed, and please don t disturb 
 everyone with your ghost-walking." 
 
 "I m going, May," Esther replied a little sadly, "but 
 won t you say that you are pleased with me ?" 
 
 "More than pleased, Pet. Kiss me ! now I am better. 
 Go, before you catch cold." 
 
 "Dear little one! it has come to your life," thought
 
 323 A GENTLEMAN BORN. 
 
 Mabel, as she lay for hours after Esther had gone, revolv 
 ing the incident in her mind. "How radiant she was in 
 her new-found bliss! And I why should not I also be 
 happy? Has he not cleared away those stains from his 
 character? He is worthy of my love. My love do I 
 love him ? Whisper soft, kind angels that guard him ! 
 Oh, what am I saying? Whither are my thoughts drift 
 ing me? He must not suspect nor have an idea of my 
 
 sentiments until well " 
 
 And as the last faint glimmering of her train of musing 
 was vanishing into the purest and most joyous of dreams, 
 there came to her, or she fancied there came, the softest 
 whisper "I love you, my love, my own !"
 
 aUTON 8 SWEETHEART. 323 
 
 CHAPTER XXXVII. 
 
 SWEETHEART. 
 
 THE Christmas holidays have come and gone at the 
 Beaumont mansion. Whilst the social world about them 
 was agog with unusual festivity, with box-parties, fancy-dress 
 balls, afternoon-teas, and receptions galore, this one little 
 desert spot in the brilliant sphere of pleasure was still 
 shrouded in its mourning garb. 
 
 Of course it had been a nine days wonder and gossip 
 among the elite set, that Guyon McCarty, the elegant 
 young gentleman of such polished manners, whom every 
 one recalled now, and congratulated himself or herself 
 upon having met, should have turned out in the end to be 
 Mrs. Barrington s own son. 
 
 "Anyone could have seen it with half an eye," it was 
 said, "that he was a born gentleman." And even those 
 who had been most inclined to snub him in former times, 
 could scarcely contain their resentment over Perry Bar 
 rington s death, and the mourning period following, since 
 it excluded them from the heavenly atmosphere in which 
 the youthful heir of Beaumont lived and breathed. Nor 
 were there wanting those, a few scheming Mamas, and 
 ambitious demoiselles, who intimated that the Southern 
 Miss who had jilted Lord Richleigh after she had ruined 
 all their chances, was now making the best of her oppor 
 tunity in striving to win Mr. Beaumont for herself. 
 
 Poor Mabel, if they only knew how far such a sentiment 
 was from your heart ! As the days and weeks of the
 
 324 A GENTLEMAN BORN. 
 
 winter months were passing, she was thrown continually 
 in his presence, learning more and more of his true, noble 
 character, now fully developing in the atmosphere of con 
 tentment and peace. She noted also his remarkable tender 
 ness for his Mother, which had in it all the strength of 
 manly earnestness, combined with a certain childlike trust 
 which was truly extraordinary. Still, with all, as love s 
 whisperings grew stronger, Guyon s position towards her 
 was that of a devoted friend nothing more. 
 
 "Is he repaying me for my past coldness to him?" she 
 sometimes asked herself, after a conversation together in 
 the long winter evening, when the theme would be some 
 reminiscence of his college days, or, at her request, an epi 
 sode of his early career ; and when no word of love escaped 
 his lips. "Or is it that he has ceased to care for me as he 
 did, now that his heart is centred in his Mother s love?" 
 
 Frequently she resolved to return to her Southern home ; 
 but the fear lest her motive might be misinterpreted, re 
 strained her. Then, too, there was Esther s all-absorbing 
 happiness to cause her many a heartache, witnessing the 
 joy, so pure and unalloyed, which she seemed destined 
 never to share. 
 
 But the paths in Esther s paradise were not all strewn 
 with roses at first. There was a little scene in her Mother s 
 boudoir when the denouement was made ; for it seemed to 
 Muriel that her little daughter was more than frivolous 
 in permitting Harold to whisper his love so soon after her 
 Father s death. It was only Guyon s pleading, added to 
 Mabel s gentle persuasion, that won the kind Mother s 
 consent to the engagement, provided that it remain a 
 profound secret for a year, at least. 
 
 During all this time, Guyon s mind was ill at ease, not 
 withstanding Harold s grave advice and jesting railleries, 
 and his Mother s more sober counsel, that he put an end
 
 GUYON 8 SWEETHEART. 325 
 
 to all the unrest and disquietude by asking Miss Gordon 
 to be his wife. 
 
 "You are the most unreasonable fellow that ever was 
 created," Harold exclaimed one evening when Guyon had 
 come into his sanctum, where he was deep in the mysteries 
 of Blackstone, with the never absent pipe in his mouth, 
 and the ponderous tomes at his side. "You have come to 
 me again for consolation, I suppose. Well, take a seat 
 anywhere you can find one ; only don t disturb my precious 
 books. There s a pipe somewhere, or a cigarette, if you 
 prefer it." 
 
 "Thank you, I don t care about smoking. I didn t have 
 anything particular to do, hence my visit." 
 
 "Is that all? Well, presumably I must be thankful 
 that you deign to shed your light upon my inhospitable 
 den. Anything new? How s Esther?" 
 
 "As though you didn t know when you saw her last 
 evening ! You lovers are rather tiresome, to say the least," 
 and Guyon stretched his arms with a suspicion of weari 
 ness. 
 
 "Eeally, I like that ! to your own brother ! Say, Guy, if 
 1 were you, I d quit that dog-in-the-manger style. Why 
 don t you hit it up with Mabel, and have done with it? 
 Do you think it might be less interesting, eh?" 
 
 "By no means, if I thought she would favor my suit; 
 but " 
 
 "But ! there you go again, Faint heart, the old adage 
 has it, never won ladye faire ; and if there is any truth 
 in the saying, your own is made of the weakest possible 
 material; Sometimes I wonder why you are not ill from 
 the effects of your weak heart." 
 
 "Lay it on as hard as you wish, Hal, I can stand it. 
 I know better than you, and from experience, how difficult 
 it is to win Miss Gordon s love. Has she not had suitors
 
 326 -4 GENTLEMAN BORN. 
 
 by the score? Even an English Lord she rejected why 
 then should there be hope for me ?" 
 
 "And in the meantime, you simply hang around, play 
 the agreeable, the interested friend, if you will, and, be 
 fore you are aware of it, someone will turn up one of 
 her Southern admirers, perhaps and there go all your 
 chances of happiness, and Mabel Gordon along with 
 them." 
 
 "That s among the possibles," Guyon replied, gloomily. 
 
 "See here, old chap, why don t you take a sensible, 
 clear-headed view of the situation, for once and all. Wit 
 ness my case. Did I delay when I was convinced that the 
 moment had arrived when I should ask Esther to be my 
 wife? Did I permit any consideration, or any circum 
 stance to intervene? No, by Jove! I took the matter 
 into my own hands, without asking, by your leave of any 
 one." * 
 
 "But you were certain of Esther s answer you had 
 known her so long." 
 
 "And witnessed her many changing moods. Not that I 
 entertained the idea for a moment that she would love 
 another, even though she should meet thousands after she 
 entered society. Now, as it is, she will appear as my 
 fiancee. How the fellows will stare and talk !" and Har 
 old chuckled to himself at the thought of the victory he 
 had scored so far in advance. 
 
 "I suppose your heroism is to be a subject of congratula 
 tion," Guyon muttered. 
 
 "See here, Guy !" Hal exclaimed, rising from his careless 
 position on his couch, as a sudden thought came to his 
 mind, "forgive me, if I say this, but it really seems to be 
 the only solution of your persistent inaction. You 
 don t love another girl, do you?" 
 
 "How can you say that, Hal ? No, I am not offended.
 
 GUYON>8 SWEETHEART. 327 
 
 rather amused if anything; and puzzled to conjecture who 
 the young lady may be." 
 
 "Not Miss Dimples!" 
 
 "After the letter I wrote at your suggestion ! Oh, no." 
 
 "But you have not lost sight of her," Harold persisted. 
 
 "No, that is, indirectly I have not. I have placed a 
 certain sum at Mr. McCarty s disposal, which he will use 
 for their benefit while they live." 
 
 "You have done this? And yet you are not interested 
 in this person it seems incredible !" 
 
 "Wait a moment, Hal, before you judge me. Eemember 
 that the poor child had a claim upon Barrington, as had 
 also her Mother. I could not live in affluence and see 
 them want." 
 
 "Forgive me, Guy; only I m afraid your heart was a 
 trifle stronger than your mind there. They won t ap 
 preciate the gift." 
 
 "I don t intend that they shall know of the giver. 
 That part has been also attended to." 
 
 "Have you heard of Dimples lately?" was Harold s 
 next query. 
 
 "Yes, the good old contractor no, I must not call him 
 by that name now, for he has retired from business Mr. 
 McCarty, I mean, informed me the other day that he had 
 prevailed upon them to take an extended trip to Europe. 
 The Mother has some distant relatives living in a London 
 suburb, and they are to settle down in a quiet way there." 
 
 "That eliminates Dimples from your life, doesn t it?" 
 said Harold, with a little sigh of relief. "What are you 
 going to do with yourself now?" 
 
 "Nothing at present. I shall make no plans until 
 next autumn. There is so much to settle now; every 
 thing was in such a confused state after Barrington s death, 
 you know."
 
 328 -4 GENTLEMAN BORN. 
 
 "I understand. You will wait until you are legally 
 in possession of your rights, before you determine upon 
 your future career, either in politics or one of the higher 
 professions." 
 
 "Exactly." 
 
 "And for the present, pardon me if I revert to the old 
 theme, Guy, take my advice. You have found by experi 
 ence that it carries a certain weight at times, strike at 
 once, if you love Miss Gordon. Don t dally with so sacred 
 a passion. No good can come of it." 
 
 "Perhaps you re right, Hal. I will make no promises 
 to-night, but shall be guided by circumstances." 
 
 "Good bye, then, since you must leave me, old fellow, 
 drop in again when you are in the moody way." 
 
 Guyon left his friend s abode with no more definite de 
 termination than when he had entered it. He dis 
 missed his coach, purposing to stroll home, enjoying the 
 mild atmosphere of the evening in early spring, and give 
 full play to his imaginative fancies. The thoroughfares 
 were not as yet thronged with after-theatre parties; in 
 fact, it was just that time of night, when the pulse of the 
 great city seems to beat feebly; a general hush was upon 
 everything, prior to the Aurora of the most dashing ex 
 citement. Guyon had proceeded some little distance down 
 Fifth Avenue, when he heard his name called. Without 
 pausing or quickening his pace, he continued his walk, 
 paying no attention to the individual whose voice seemed 
 familiar. 
 
 "Are you in a hurry, Mr. Beaumont ?" and Barclay laid 
 his hand upon his shoulder. 
 
 Guyon shook off the intruder, and walked on, merely 
 brushing the place on his coat where the -touch had ap 
 parently left a moral stain. 
 
 "I say, are you in a hurry ?" Barclay persisted. "I heard
 
 GUYON* 8 SWEETHEART. 329 
 
 that you wanted to fueet me some time ago. I am here 
 now, what have you to say to me ?" 
 
 "Nothing! I do not desire your company/ 
 
 "Come, let us be friends, Beaumont. I want to con 
 gratulate you upon " 
 
 "Leave me, I say!" cried Guyon, for the sight of this 
 man, and the memory of what he had done, stung him in 
 tensely. "Leave me before I lay my hands on your 
 wretched carcass. If I had a whip I would punish you 
 as I had intended." 
 
 "No doubt your early education has trained you for a 
 street brawler," said Barclay with a sneer. 
 
 "I have not wished your society, I have asked you to 
 leave me. Now I repeat the demand. You are not a 
 gentleman. You are a disgrace to society and the com 
 munity at large. You are a " 
 
 "Maybe I m not a. goody good sort of a fellow, but I 
 believe you have kept pace with me before." 
 
 "You lie !" Guyon cried, striking Barclay a telling blow 
 between the eyes, which stunned him for the moment. He 
 was on guard again, however, and being something of 
 an athlete, the tussle promised to be a lively one, much 
 as Guyon disliked the publicity of the affair, had not a 
 third party appeared on the scene, in the guise of a man 
 belonging to the poorer class, judging by his shabby clothes 
 and careless appearance. 
 
 "Doan youse queer yer ban s wid im, Mr. Guy ; leave im 
 ter me, an watch me trump im !" It was Biglin. 
 
 And before Guyon could utter a remonstrance, the 
 burly fellow had thrown Barclay, and was pounding him 
 unmercifully, clinching every "trump" with a choice epi 
 thet from his own peculiar dialect. 
 
 "That will do, Biglin! Come, he will have the police 
 on you in a moment," Guyon said. And, with a parting
 
 330 & GENTLEMAN BOHN. 
 
 kick for good luck, Biglin left the prostrate form of the 
 unfortunate Barclay, and with some reluctance, was per 
 suaded to continue his perambulation with Guyon. 
 
 "How did you happen to be here ?" he asked. 
 
 "Doan know ; jes hangs roun ! Nothin ter do since de 
 boss trew up de job, so I chases meseP up ter dese diggin s 
 tinkin es I might see youse." 
 
 "Looking out for a scrap as usual, I suppose." 
 
 "Cudn t shut me peepers when I seed dat bloke Barclay 
 a folloyin youse, an cotches on ter de string yer gies 
 im." 
 
 "Well, you ve given him a good thrashing, and it will 
 do him a world of good, I think." 
 
 "I wouldn t a cum in de game, Mr. Guy, ef youse had 
 a club ter lay it on wid, but I cudn t see youse puttin 
 yer ban s on dat feller naw!" 
 
 "You aren t doing anything, you say, Biglin. Why 
 didn t you come to my residence ? Have you forgotten the 
 old times?" 
 
 "Naw!" Biglin replied, looking down sheepishly, "but 
 youse bees a howlin swell, an mees a poor mug, see ? dat s 
 de dif." 
 
 "Do you think that I could forget you, Biglin, and what 
 you have done for me? No, we are brothers yet, you and 
 I, my position shall make no difference between us. You 
 shall come to my home, and " 
 
 "Doan youse gie me dat string, Guy. Youse knows 
 dat s ded wrong. Wot fell kin a bloke like mesel do in 
 sassiety? Naw, ye doan." 
 
 "What can I do for you, then ?" 
 
 "Jes dis. Yer wants me wid youse, ded honest? An 
 I wants ter be roun so dose mugs like Barclay can t git 
 up no game on youse agin. Wot fell d ye say ef I bees 
 yer walley? Dat s me string, Guy."
 
 GUYON S SWEETHEART. 331 
 
 "Just the thing, Biglin. Come to me to-morrow, and 
 1 will see that Hastings, our old butler, gets you up in 
 proper shape." 
 
 "Tank yer, Mr. Guy," and Biglin, chuckling over his 
 good fortune, and at the prospect of now being permanently 
 established in Guyon s household, to watch over his in 
 terests and his wardrobe alike, scurried off, and was soon 
 lost in the distance. 
 
 Guyon was more than pleased at the turn events had 
 taken so far that night. What he would have given to 
 have thrashed Barclay ! had it out with for good and all ; 
 but the fellow s pride must have received as great a down 
 fall as his physical nature, under the fists of a common 
 Bowery tough. Then, too, he had secured Biglin as his 
 valet, given him the position which seemed to the honest 
 fellow to be the one highest ambition of his life. 
 
 "If I ever settle in life," he thought, "Biglin shall have 
 the office of butler in my household. I wonder what Mabel 
 will think of him, as though she were already my 
 fiancee! Phew! Castles, air castles, nothing more." 
 
 He entered the house quietly, bidding Hastings say noth 
 ing of his arrival, and intending to steal up to his room. 
 The door of the drawing-room was ajar, and there came to 
 his ear the refrain of an old German love song. The voice 
 was a rich soprano, but now, so modulated, unaccompanied 
 by an instrument, that, as he paused outside, he could 
 scarcely detect the words. "It is she," he murmured. 
 "If she were alone, I might ask her to sing the song to 
 me, and, if she did, might it not be an omen? I ll make 
 the attempt. Perhaps, after all, Hal is right, I am too 
 faint-hearted." 
 
 Softly he opened the door, and paused again on the 
 threshold. She was sitting there in the dim light, alone. 
 Two or three incandescents in a further part of the room.
 
 332 A GENTLEMAN BORN. 
 
 gave a sort of artificial twilight to the scene. A costume 
 of soft creamy whiteness enhanced the beauty of her 
 form, as. she sat in a careless attitude, her countenance 
 in the shadow, her eyes large and dreamy. 
 
 "Now, I would give my life to know the trend of her 
 thoughts," Guyon said to himself, as he stepped lightly into 
 the room, and confronted his loved one before she realized 
 his presence. Then she started, her complexion changed to 
 ashy white, and again to the deepest crimson when he 
 spoke. 
 
 "Pardon me, Miss Gordon, for intruding upon your 
 happy reverie. Have I come too suddenly? You appear 
 disturbed." 
 
 "It was sudden; I was thinking, and it seemed so un 
 real to see you standing there." 
 
 "I heard your voice, singing that pretty German song. 
 I could not resist the temptation to enter and ask you to 
 repeat it for me." 
 
 "It is a silly little thing, and so old. You have heard 
 ii before." 
 
 "Yes, I have. I do not recall just when or where; it 
 must have been during my college days." 
 
 "One cannot sing well without an accompaniment, and 
 your Mother does not wish the piano to be opened." 
 
 "I will accompany you on the guitar no one will hear 
 its low cadence." 
 
 "Do you really wish me to sing it?" she asked. 
 
 "I do not think that I shall rest to-night unless I hear 
 it." 
 
 "Bring over the guitar." 
 
 "And may I sit here at your feet ?" he asked. 
 
 Then, when he had touched a few chords, she sang 
 the melody:
 
 GUYON S SWEETHEART. 333 
 
 "Glaub* nicht ich konnt dich vergessen, 
 
 Vertrau der Liebe Macht, 
 Will tief in das Herz dich pressen, 
 
 Und tragen durch Grabesnacht, 
 Zu leuchtendem Sternengefunkel, 
 
 Wo Liebe vergehet nicht, 
 Trotz Tod und schaurigem Dunkel, ja Dunkel, 
 
 Dich zu des Himraels Licht." 
 
 With the last quivering note dying away, his hand still 
 touched the guitar, and his eyes were fixed upon hers. 
 
 "Are you satisfied?" she asked, smiling. "Is it all that 
 you wished for?" 
 
 "All, and more than I could pray for, if your heart 
 but re-echoes the words, Mabel." 
 
 "What are you saying?" she asked nervously; but he 
 grasped her hand, throwing the instrument on the floor, 
 and, rising, stood now at her side. 
 
 "Mabel, I have tried to avoid this moment, Heaven 
 knows for how long, fearing lest you should not return 
 my love. I can withstand it no longer. I must have 
 your answer now. It seemed to me when you sang, that 
 your heart spoke to mine, awakening hopes which have 
 lived before only to perish. I love you, I have loved you 
 long and earnestly! Speak to me, dearest one, can you 
 return my love?" 
 
 There was no answer; but she made no effort to with 
 draw her hand, which still lay in his. Her lips were parted 
 with a radiant smile, and her eyes no longer avoiding 
 his, beamed with the fulness of joy, which should have 
 told him more than words could imply. 
 
 "Many things have transpired since I first met you at 
 the Newport ball," he continued. "I loved you then, 
 but my position was such that I dared not whisper the 
 words. It is the same love I offer now. No other has 
 come into my heart. Believe me, dearest one, it was for
 
 334 A GENTLEMAN BORN. 
 
 you and only you that I labored in quest of my parentage. 
 Now that the obstacles are all removed, can you care for 
 me just a little? If so, then indeed shall I be well re 
 paid." 
 
 "You have it all, all my love, Guyon," she whispered. 
 
 "My own, my precious one !" he exclaimed, as he kissed 
 with rapturous emotion those pure lips, and held her in 
 his close embrace, so near that the joyous pulsations of 
 her heart found rebounding throbs in his own. 
 
 The wondrous bliss of those first moments in true 
 lovers lives, when to each comes the knowledge of the 
 heart s adoration reciprocated, is something so holy, so 
 sacred, so peculiarly individual in its character, that even 
 the poet s liveliest imagination cannot portray it with any 
 semblance to reality, unless, perchance, he gives expression 
 to sentiments which at one time or another have been a 
 part of his own life. 
 
 For Guyon and Mabel, there was something more than 
 the commonplace affection which brightens ordinary 
 lovers lives. It was with Mabel, her heart s first awaken 
 ing. Many had sued for her love. She had invariably 
 treated them in a manner which had won for her the 
 sobriquet of coquette and flirt, among a certain class; 
 but it had been no fault of hers that she possessed bound 
 less attractions, manners so pleasing and fascinating as to 
 cause the throng of love-sick youths to imagine that they 
 had only to lay their hearts and fortunes at her feet, and 
 she would accept them off-hand. "She is cold," they said, 
 "and heartless." Ah, if they could have seen her to-night, 
 resting in Guyon s arms, her countenance lighted up with 
 more than happiness, her eyes looking into his, speaking 
 to his, and drinking from the abyss of love which his dis 
 closed, would they call her cold-hearted ? 
 
 And Guyon, what were his sentiments? Truly, this sur-
 
 QUYON S SWEETHEART. 335 
 
 passed his most cherished anticipations, this love of Mabel s 
 which had come to him. After all his waiting, his dis 
 appointments and trials, there was so great an element 
 of intoxicating bliss in this, that he was fain to believe 
 that he was once more under the delusion of the opium, 
 revelling in the scenes of delight which he had then ex 
 perienced. 
 
 They sat there long into the night, speaking of the past 
 but little, but looking forward to the future, the horizon 
 of which was now more glorious than the roseate aurora 
 heralding the perfect day. 
 
 We cannot imagine Mabel seeking Esther s boudoir that 
 night to tell her secret happiness. It was something that 
 she wished to have all for herself, thinking over it in all 
 its brilliancy of color, conjuring up again and again her 
 lover s image, the expression of his countenance when he 
 told the story of his love, his ardent wooing, and the like. 
 How pleasant it was now to dwell upon it all! What 
 though sleep were banished ? These were no dreams or 
 idle musings; and the whisperings which came, were but 
 the memories of the real whisper he spoke "I love you, 
 my love, my love!" 
 
 So the springtime passed with all the gaiety of Nature s 
 bounteous art, finding a chord of sympathy in Guyon s 
 soul. Nor was Muriel less delighted that it had come 
 about, even during the time of her mourning; for, as the 
 days succeeded days, and the months of dreary winter had 
 merged to laughing spring, her life became less buried in 
 the ghostly past, which she dreaded to look back upon, and 
 more and more open to the sunshine which her boy was 
 bringing to her. Then, there was Esther to claim her 
 counsel and direction; for the little Miss assumed great 
 dignity and airs to herself since she had become Harold s 
 fiancee.
 
 336 ^ GENTLEMAN BORN. 
 
 The family went to their Newport home early in May. 
 Mrs. Brandon and her husband went with them to stop 
 at Beaucliff for a time, until some alterations in their 
 residence were completed; and, of course, Harold was one 
 of the party. And there was Biglin, too, now fully initi 
 ated in his new duties, with no semblance to his old self 
 remaining, saving his mop of red hair, his freckled face, 
 and his Bowery slang. He proved to be an excellent 
 valet, anticipating Guyon s slightest wish, sharing all 
 his confidences, a privilege born of their ancient chum 
 ship. When he heard that his young master and Miss 
 Gordon were to be married privately in the autumn, and 
 that he was to be taken with them over "the pond," he told 
 Guyon that "he d been tinkin o gittin hitched ter dc 
 Frenchy gal wot did a turn fer Miss Mabel, cause," he 
 said, "when wese all a chasm oursel s in de forrin places, 
 de Frenchy gal, dat s me wife den, kin gie de Dago string, 
 an I needn t open me trap." 
 
 "That s a capital idea, Biglin," Guyon replied, laugh 
 ing, "only if I were you, I d be dead certain that the young 
 person would accept me, before I planned what she d do 
 as my wife." 
 
 "Aw, she s ded easy! watch me cotch on ter her, Mr. 
 Guy." 
 
 They were sitting on the veranda at Beaucliff, one night, 
 Guyon and Mabel, not long after their arrival at this 
 charming place. The night was almost perfect, perhaps a 
 little cooler than one would wish, but lovers do not 
 mind the chilly breeze. In the drawing-room were Harold 
 and Esther, she playing a low accompaniment for a love 
 song which he was singing in a clear baritone. 
 
 "Does this remind you of anything, Mabel?" Guyon, 
 asked.
 
 GUYON S SWEETHEART. 337 
 
 "With a stretch of fancy, it might. You refer to the 
 night of the ball, Guy dear." 
 
 "Nothing else, of course; we have not the gay music 
 nor the dancers, nor the extremely warm atmosphere. 
 But see! the Queen of Night is just rising out of the 
 ocean !" 
 
 "How grand !" whispered Mabel. 
 
 "And shortly, the darkness of night will be dispelled, 
 and all her radiance suffuse the face of Nature." 
 
 "Just as my love has lighted up the gloom, and banished 
 the shadows from your life." 
 
 "How well you read my thoughts, darling ! That was 
 my comparison. I have often told you of those darksome 
 days after I first met you." 
 
 "And after you rescued me, Guy, what a great mis 
 take you made in running off as you did." 
 
 "When it seemed to me that you loved Barclay?" 
 
 "Of course that was all wrong. I don t know how his 
 name ever came to my lips. Let us not talk of him. He 
 sought to keep us apart." 
 
 "But in reality, as you have told me, precious, his letter 
 only served to bring us together in the end, for it awakened 
 a sentiment of sympathy almost akin to love in your heart." 
 
 "It was really after that I don t know just when or 
 how it came to me that you were the only man I could 
 love." 
 
 "If I were worthy of your love !" 
 
 "You are my one grand ideal," she exclaimed. 
 
 "Hush, May, don t say that! What if I never discov 
 ered my Mother? If I had been without a name, or had 
 retained that of the old Irish contractor, would it have 
 been the same?" 
 
 "That would have depended upon yourself, Guy," she 
 faltered, a little playfully, "Had you wooed me, and dis-
 
 338 ^ GENTLEMAN BORN. 
 
 played all your noble, true character to me, had you been 
 persistent in your love, I must have yielded in the 
 end." 
 
 "Now, that clears away all doubts from my mind." 
 
 "Why, you could not think otherwise of me, could you ?" 
 
 "Forgive me, darling. I fear that I do not yet ap 
 preciate the wonders of your grand nature, which seem 
 to be unfolding before me day by day, and each day, each 
 hour adds greater lustre to your love." 
 
 "Is it really so? And I seem to have known you for 
 so long a time, dearest Guy, and wonder why I did not 
 love you at the first." 
 
 "How fair the scene is now!" cried Guyon. For the 
 moon was sailing full in her course, casting her silvery 
 sheen upon the waves and rocks, through the tree-tops, 
 and on the vine-clad porch, shimmering its mellow light 
 upon the lovers there, causing Mabel s beauty to appear 
 more transcendent than ever before. 
 
 From the beach, came the music of the breakers, as they 
 dashed upon the rocks, and the odors of ocean were 
 mingled with the blossom-laden air. And from the draw 
 ing-room came the refrain of the old love melody. 
 
 "It is all peace, delight and happiness," Guyon mur 
 mured. 
 
 "So shall it always be for you, dearest," whispered 
 Mabel. "Your life has known so little of the brighter side, 
 we must make amends for all that now." 
 
 "Hello! Come here, Esther, see what we re missing," 
 exclaimed Harold. "A thousand pardons didn t know 
 we were intruding; but there s plenty of space on the 
 veranda for four, isn t there?" 
 
 "Stay here if you wish, we also were admiring the scene, 
 but thought that you preferred the music inside,"
 
 GUYON 8 SWEETHEART. 339 
 
 "How s that, Esther," Harold cried. "Aren t they get 
 ting to be a really selfish pair of lovers?" 
 
 "Not a bit of it! They re just the sweetest things! 
 Aren t you, dears?" she exclaimed, giving Guy on and Mabel 
 a little squeeze together. 
 
 "Isn t it different from that other night, Hal?" queried 
 Guyon. "Do you remember that you warned me not to 
 fall in love with Miss Gordon ?" 
 
 "In pity, don t, Guy !" 
 
 "Did he say that, really?" asked Mabel smiling, "you 
 were awfully cruel, Hal; and now for your punish 
 ment " 
 
 "Please let me administer that," cried Esther. "For 
 your punishment, you must say : Guy, just love Mabel as 
 hard as ever you can ; and if you ever find your love growing 
 cold, think of the misery you experienced when you did 
 not possess it ! ; 
 
 "Oh, that s too hard, I can t remember it," pleaded 
 Harold. 
 
 "I will beg you off this time, old fellow." said Guyon, 
 "if you promise never to do it again. We are all joyous 
 to-night, the atmosphere has the buoyancy of champagne 
 in it, so invigorating and sparkling, thrilling our heart 
 of hearts with sensations of bliss." 
 
 "And that is love ! >J Mabel murmured. 
 
 "Here, Biglin," cried Guyon, "bring out a couple of 
 cold bottles, and glasses. Ask Mother and Mr. and Mrs. 
 Brandon to join us." 
 
 "I ll chase de duck in a minit, Mr. Guy," said Biglin, 
 with a grin. 
 
 Then, as they were all assembled, Harold proposed "Love, 
 the crowning bliss of our lives, perfecting all less perfect, 
 ennobling all less .noble." 
 
 "Oh, stop let it be just Love, " cried Esther.
 
 340 A GENTLEMAN BORN. 
 
 "Just Love/ " said Guyon, looking full into Mabel s 
 eyes. 
 
 "May your loves be perfectly true and happy, without a 
 shadow or cloud," said Muriel. 
 
 "Then let us sing," Mabel whispered. 
 
 "See how it sparkles, this drink divine, 
 But all its lustre your eyes outshine! 
 See how it sparkles, this drink divine, 
 But all its lustre your eyes outshine! 
 But all its lustre your eyes outshine!" 
 
 THE END.
 
 THE MONEY SENSE. 
 
 By JOHN STRANGE WINTER. Is a book which must stand unique 
 in modern literature because the character of Angelique Dods- 
 worth, the heroine, is an original conception. She was a charm 
 ing creature, with the sense of the value of money very imper 
 fectly developed. The story of her going to London from her 
 humble home at Beech Croft, and eventually marrying a title, 
 is fascinating in both plot and style. It is a first-class story. 
 Cloth bound . $1.25 
 
 FATHER ANTHONY. 
 
 By ROBERT BUCHANAN. " One of the most touching and dra 
 matic stories ever written in connection with Irish life. It 
 is a heart-stirring story; and it is the more attractive because 
 Mr. Buchanan writes of Irish life from personal knowledge, 
 and describes places and people with which, and with whom, 
 he has had a long familiarity. Father John is a typical Irish 
 character. Mr. Buchanan has never conceived a more finely- 
 drawn character than Father Anthony. The book can be 
 heartily commended to all classes of readers." London 
 Weekly Sun. Ten editions have been sold in London. Cloth 
 bound. . . . .. . . . 1.50 
 
 THE SONG OF THE SWORD, a Romance of 1796. 
 
 By LEO DITRICHSTEIN. This author needs no introduction to 
 the public. In this thrilling story he displays a perfect wealth 
 of plots and critical situations. It is an excellent work, fine 
 and subtle, with many exciting scenes. A spirit of chivalrous 
 romance exudes from each chapter. There is in fact an odor 
 of romance all about it. The work spent on the central figures 
 is splendid, and the entire book satisfies the demand for com 
 bined entertainment .and interest in a historical novel. Cloth 
 bound. Illustrated. . . . . 1.50 
 
 WIDOW MAGOOGIN. 
 
 By JOHN J. JENNINGS. The inimitable Irish widow s philosophy 
 on the topics of the day, spoken in her own dialect, is won 
 derfully funny. As a critic the " Irish widow " touches upon 
 the foibles of fads and fashions with masterly sarcasm, and 
 Mr. Jennings, in his art, has characterized her with skilful 
 touches true to nature. Cloth bound. . . 1.25
 
 MATTHEW DOYLE. 
 
 By WILL GARLAND. This is a powerful story, and one with an 
 object. The vital question of lynching is its theme, and ar 
 guments on both sides of the subject are ably set forth. The 
 author has written with spirit and drawn his characters with 
 firm and clear strokes. It is original, exciting, and shows 
 clearly the true position of the negro in the south, in an un- 
 prejudicial manner. It is a great book. Cloth bound. 1.25 
 
 CONGRESSMAN HARDIE. 
 
 By COURTNEY WELLINGTON. A self-made man, and a thorough 
 democrat like Congressman Hardie, will always be an inter 
 esting character, and one that appeals to all genuine Ameri 
 cans. The romance pervading the pages of the book is a 
 delicate one, and skilfully interwoven with the various politi 
 cal events. The heroine is an original conception on the part 
 of the writer, and we see her in some phases of city life not 
 before portrayed in romance. Cloth bound. . 1.25 
 
 AMY WARREN. 
 
 By A. SYDNEY LOGAN. Author of " Not on the Chart." The 
 appeal of this story lies in its naturalness. The hero, Harold 
 Littleton, is not an impossible conception, but a real man of 
 flesh and blood, faults and virtues. A new phase of American 
 country life is also set forth with great fidelity. The worth 
 of this book to the average reader is in the immediate re 
 freshment and absolute change of ideas he can get by opening 
 its pages anywhere. It contains some fine imaginative work 
 and has heroic love for its theme. Cloth bound, gilt top. 1.50 
 
 KATHARINE BARRY. 
 
 By HARRY HUGHES. The sacrifice of sentiment to religion is 
 always a fascinating topic. In the case of this novel, it is 
 particularly so, because of the earnestness and evident sincerity 
 of the devoted young girl. She was only a farmer s daughter, 
 but she passed through most extraordinary experiences, even 
 to being the medium of psychic-phenomena. It is a most in 
 teresting book. Cloth bound, gilt top. . ... 1.25 
 2
 
 MISS HOGG; The American Heiress. 
 
 By MRS. V. C. JONES. The adventures of an American girl in 
 London are used as the foundation of this story. Miss Hogg 
 was an uncultured heiress, bent on capturing a coronet. In 
 furtherance of her plans, she uses almost desperate means, 
 and places herself in very perilous situations. Her Ameri 
 can wit, however, helps her safely through them all, and, at 
 the close of the book she is respected and happy. Cloth 
 bound, gilt top. ...... 1.50 
 
 INVISIBLE LIGHT; or, The Electric Theory of Creation. 
 
 By GEORGE W. WARDER. " He holds there are only three ele 
 mental substances in nature : spirit, electricity and matter. 
 Matter is controlled by electricity, and electricity is controlled 
 by spirit intelligence. That in discovering electricity man 
 has found the working force of Deity, and uses it in all fields 
 of human effort. The arguments are convincing, and the 
 book attractive and entertaining." The Kansas City Star. 
 Beautifully bound in cloth. .... 1.25 
 
 GETTYSBTTRG, THEN AND NOW. 
 
 THE FIELD OF AMERICAN VALOR. By J. M. VANDERSLICE. The 
 new illustrated History of Gettysburg, where and how the 
 Regiments fought and the troops they encountered. A mag 
 nificent Quarto Volume with 125 full page illustrations, views 
 of the battle ground and the monuments now on the field. 
 This magnificent volume is the best and most concise history 
 of the great battle. Octavo 492 pages, Cloth bound. 3.50 
 
 THE VEIL WITHDRAWN. 
 
 By BERTON J. MADDUX. A tragic beginning makes a happy end 
 ing all the more agreeable. The opening pages of this enter 
 taining book relate a murder, and not until the end of the story 
 is the identity of the criminal established. The interest is 
 chained by this sustained mystery, and its denouement is a 
 total surprise. It is a spirited and most interesting work. 
 Cloth bound 1.25
 
 THE MEMOIRS OF VICTOR HUGO. 
 
 Translated by JOHN W. HARDING. " Great scenes described by 
 the most vivid word-artist of the century." New York World. 
 " Full of the most characteristic bits, sentences or whole 
 paragraphs that no one but Hugo could have written." New 
 York Times Saturday Review. Cloth bound, gilt top. 2.50 
 
 RISING FORTUNES. 
 
 By JOHN OXENHAM. Author of " The Princess of Vascovy," 
 " God s Prisoner," etc. The London advent of two poor, but 
 talented young Scotchmen from the country, is the founda 
 tion of this splendid story. Their various adventures are 
 carefully depicted in a manner that rivets the attention, and 
 nothing is overdrawn. In this lies the charm of the book, 
 rendering it beyond compare with stories of its class. The 
 writer is gifted, and the work sure to meet a cordial recep 
 tion. Cloth bound. . . . . . . 1.50 
 
 THE DEGENERATION OF DOROTHY. 
 
 By FRANK KINSELLA. This story is extraordinarily clever, and 
 will please the honest reader in search of something unusual. 
 The theme is the transfusion of blood and its wonderful ef 
 fect upon character. Poor helpless Dorothy had to degenerate, 
 but happily, science explained the phenomenon. The writer 
 has produced a fascinating and original book, and one lays 
 it down with the earnest desire to read more from the same 
 pen. Cloth bound. . . . . . 1.50 
 
 THE BOND OF BLACK. 
 
 By WM. LE QUEUX. This is another charming and spell-bind 
 ing story by the wonderfully successful author of " If Sinners 
 Entice Thee," " The Day of Temptation," etc., and is one of 
 the best novels of the year. Cloth bound. . . " . 1.50 
 
 DON COSME. 
 
 By T. H. TYNDALE. The author here introduces us to a wealthy 
 Southern family. The favorite daughter loves an alleged 
 Mexican, Don Cosme, who is proven to have colored blood in 
 his veins. The scene of the girl spurning him at the altar is 
 very impressive and dramatic. It is an unsavory incident, 
 but one frought with significance. There is unlimited food 
 for thought throughout the book, which should especially ap 
 peal to Southerners. The essential idea of the work is treated 
 with great force and fulness. Cloth bound. . . 1.25
 
 JACK CREWS. 
 
 By MARTHA FRYE BOGGS. A brilliant new novel, dedicated to 
 the railroad engineers of America, one of whom is the hero 
 of the story. The plot is well sustained, the hero an impress 
 ive character. The book is full of action, it is dramatic and 
 will hold the reader s attention to the end. Cloth bound. 1.50 
 
 THE FUNNY SIDE OF POLITICS. 
 
 By GEORGE S. HILTON. Nothing has ever been written like this 
 book. It gives many amusing stories told in the House and 
 Senate in Washington. The book is replete with anecdotes of 
 many living politicians. Their names are given, as well as 
 the occasion which called forth the stories. Third edition. 
 Cloth bound. . . ... . . . 1.25 
 
 THE SLAVE OF THE LAMP. 
 
 By HENRY SETON MERRIMAN. Author of "The Sowers," 
 " Young Mistley," " Dross," etc. There is a ring and thrill 
 to this story due in part to its unusual theme. It is written 
 with all the characteristic power of the author, and will meet 
 a tremendous sale. Illustrated and Cloth bound, gilt top. 1.50 
 
 THE SACRIFICE OF SILENCE. 
 
 By EDOUARD ROD. Translated by JOHN W. HARDING. M. Rod 
 shows, with consummate art and in two widely contrasting 
 examples, that silence under certain conditions constitutes a 
 heroic sacrifice, so generous in its abnegation, and in one case, 
 in which the unblemished reputation of a wife and mother is 
 involved, so unflinchingly steadfast, as to impart a character 
 of nobleness and grandeur to the sin of prohibited love and 
 its inevitable accompaniments, lying, deceit and hypocrisy. 
 Cloth bound, gilt top. . . . . . 1.50 
 
 A PRINCESS OF VASCOVY. 
 
 By JOHN OXENHAM. Author of " God s Prisoner." A story 
 that will win thousands of admirers. It is an artistic concep 
 tion ; a true romance, which has about it a quality of real life. 
 It is a dramatic tale equal in many respects to the " Prisoner 
 of Zenda," and fully as interesting. Cloth bound, gilt top. 1.50
 
 THE MAN WHO BAKED. 
 
 By JOHN P. RITTER. Mr. Ritter has achieved a work of rare 
 interest. It is a great historical picture of the time of Robes 
 pierre, in which fact and fancy are welded together in a fine 
 realization of the spirit of the times. It has all the elements 
 of a genuine romance, and is an unusually fascinating his 
 torical romance. Illustrated. Cloth bound, gilt top. 1.25 
 
 THE DAY OF TEMPTATION. 
 
 By WM. LE QUEUX. This is one of this author s best stories. 
 It is thrilling and realistic, and bears out a mystery which 
 carries the reader through a labyrinth of strange experiences. 
 Cloth bound. ....... 1.50 
 
 THE STOEY OF THE ROUGH RIDERS. 
 
 By EDWARD MARSHALL. The most intensely interesting book of 
 modern times. It is devoted entirely to this one famous regi 
 ment. It contains a complete roster of the regiment, and is 
 profusely illustrated from photographs and drawings. Cloth 
 bound. . . . , f i . 1.50 
 
 WATERS THAT PASS AWAY. 
 
 By N. B. WINSTON. " There is a deep lesson of life to be 
 learned from a book like this, and in it one may study charac 
 ter, and the infallible trend of social consequences, sorrow 
 ever following sin, and sin in its turn yielding to joy when 
 true repentance follows after." Philadelphia Item. Cloth 
 bound. . . . . . . . . 1.25 
 
 THE RETURN OF THE O MAHONY. 
 
 By HAROLD FREDERIC. To those who have read " The Damna 
 tion of Theron Ware," and " Seth s Brother s Wife," there 
 will be found in this extremely delightful novel, " The Re 
 turn of the O Mahony," a book that will gratify the reader 
 much more than any other book of the times. Illustrated, and 
 with portrait of the author. Cloth bound, deckle edge, gilt 
 top. . . . ., . . . 1.50
 
 A CHEQUE FOR THREE THOUSAND. 
 By ARTHUR HENRY VEYSEY. (Tenth edition.) It s a jolly good 
 story, bright and clear. Dramatic, full of life and action and 
 a brilliant farce from end to end. You cannot put it down 
 until you finish it, and you will mention it many a time when 
 you want to relate something novel and odd among your 
 friends. Attractively bound in cloth. . i.oo 
 
 A PEDIGREE IN PAWN. 
 
 By ARTHUR HENRY VEYSEY. Author of " A Cheque for Three 
 Thousand," which has run into its seventh edition. Original, 
 bright, sparkling fun runs all through " A Pedigree in Pawn." 
 It will be talked about and laughed over more than any other 
 book of the year. Illustrated with 14 character drawings. 
 Cloth bound. . . . . . . . 1.25 
 
 EATS OFF. 
 
 By ARTHUR HENRY VEYSEY. Author of " A Cheque for Three 
 Thousand," etc. A splendid story for summer reading. Are 
 you tired, blue? Read HATS OFF! Do you want a story 
 for the hammock? Read HATS OFF! Do you want a story 
 with " go," with an original plot ? Read HATS OFF ! Do you 
 want to laugh? Read HATS OFF! Cloth bound. . 1.25 
 
 Paper covers. 50 
 
 THE STATEROOM OPPOSITE. 
 
 By ARTHUR HENRY VEYSEY. Author of "A Cheque for Three 
 Thousand," etc. Is a well balanced detective story. It is 
 not overdrawn as such books usually are, but full of mysterious 
 and vital interest. It is a departure from Mr. Veysey s previous 
 humorous style in " A Cheque for Three Thousand," and " A 
 Pedigree in Pawn," proving him to be a remarkably versatile 
 writer. Most of the events take place on shipboard. It is a 
 powerful story, with a most dramatic climax, and inimitably 
 original characters. Cloth bound. . . . 1.25 
 Paper covers. . ; . . 50 
 
 CIEO THE MAGNIFICENT; or, The Muse of the Real. 
 
 By Louis ZANGWILL. The Boston Times says : " The story is 
 drawn with a master hand and the characters stand forth in 
 clear relief. It is in every way worthy of Mr. Zangwill s 
 reputation." One of the best novels of the year. Cloth 
 bound. ....... 1.50
 
 THE DRONES MUST DIE. 
 
 By MAX NORDAU. Sixth Edition. " As purely original as if no 
 other novel had ever been written. The open secret of sucli 
 writing is that it is the result of the experience and the ob 
 servation of one of the keenest observers a man who exag 
 gerates nothing and sets down naught in malice, but sees with 
 incomparable clearness, and writes down what he sees."- 
 The Bookseller and Newsman. .... 2.00 
 
 TWO ODD GIRLS. 
 
 A charming novel, by JOHN A. PETERS. A bright, clever and 
 interesting story is this, with a vein of humor underlying and 
 running through it. The style of the novel is brilliant and 
 will be read with pleasure and avidity by all who peruse its 
 first page. Cloth bound. " ... . . . . 1.50 
 
 MOTHER TRUTH S MELODIES. 
 
 By MRS. E. P. MILLER. A kindergarten of the most useful 
 knowledge for children, 450 illustrations. " Every lover of 
 children and of truth will be interested in this charming book ; 
 every house in the land should have a copy; it will entertain 
 and instruct more truly and more sensibly than any other 
 book. It is made up of simple stories in verse, the jingle of 
 which may be music in the children s ears, and the pictures a 
 delight to little eyes; made in a form to attract the attention 
 of the smallest children, and one to readily fix in their mem 
 ory the stories told." Cloth bound. . . . 1.50 
 
 THE TWENTIETH CENTURY COOK BOOK. 
 
 By MRS. C. F. MORITZ and ADELE KAHN. A modern and com 
 plete household cook book such as this is, since cooking has 
 come to be a science no less than an art must find a welcome 
 and become the most popular cook book of all the many now 
 published. 
 
 " It can hardly be realized that there is anything worth eating 
 that its receipt cannot be found in this volume. This volume 
 has been carefully compiled and contains not only the re 
 ceipts for an elaborate menu, but also the modest ones have 
 been considered." Bookseller and Newsman. Bound in oil 
 cloth, for kitchen use. ..... i-5
 
 THE WHITE DEVIL OF VERDE. 
 
 By LUCIE FRANCE PIERCE. This is a story of pure love and 
 stirring action. It is crisp, bright, often thrilling and is ex 
 ceptionally well-written, the style is clear, and the plot dis 
 tinctly life-like. There is not a character introduced that does 
 not make an immediate and successful appeal to the imagina 
 tion of the reader. It is a delightful tale of Western life. 
 Cloth bound. . i . . . . 1.25 
 
 TRUE DETECTIVE STORIES. 
 
 From the Pinkerton Archives. By CLEVELAND MOFFETT. The 
 absorbing stories told here by Mr. Moffett are statements of 
 actual facts repeated without exaggeration or false coloring. 
 The author, by the help of the Pinkerton Agency, has given 
 the inside history of famous cases which the general public 
 only know of through newspaper accounts. Cloth bound. .75 
 
 THE COMPLETE WORKS OF ARTEMTTS WARD. 
 
 (CHARLES FARRAR BROWNE.) 
 
 With a biographical sketch of the author by MELVILLE D. LAN- 
 DON. The present edition is of a work which has been for 
 more than thirty years prominently before the public, and 
 which may justly be said to have maintained a standard char 
 acter. It is issued because of a demand for a better edition 
 than has ever been published. 
 
 In order to supply this acknowledged want, the publishers have 
 enlarged and perfected this edition by adding some matter 
 not heretofore published in book form. 
 
 A large I2mo. printed from new electro plates, with 28 full page 
 illustrations, and Photogravure Portrait of the author, hand 
 somely bound in cloth, gilt top. , .... . . 2.00 
 
 AN AMERICAN CITIZEN. 
 
 By MADELEINE LUCETTE RYLEY. The fact that the play of " An 
 American Citizen" has had the most successful run of any 
 modern drama should guarantee a wide sale of this book. The 
 talented and successful writer has displayed a wonderful skill 
 in developing the plot, all the outlines of the play are artis 
 tically rounded into a complete novel, which the reader will 
 find intensely interesting from the first line to the end. Cloth 
 bound. . "V - - . IlS
 
 THE RAINBOW FEATHER. 
 
 By FERGUS HUME. Author of "The Mystery of a Hansom 
 Cab," "Claude Duval of Ninety-five," etc., etc. Published 
 simultaneously with the London edition. This is a wonder 
 fully clever story, intensely interesting, the mystery is kept up 
 to the end, and when the reader lays down the book it is with 
 the satisfaction of having been fully entertained by a remark 
 ably fascinating tale. Cloth bound. . 1.25 
 
 HOUSES OF GLASS. 
 
 By WALLACE LLOYD, M.D. It is more important than most 
 books, and deserves special attention for several reasons. 
 From a purely literary standpoint it has claims, being exceed 
 ingly well-written, and most profoundly felt. Besides being 
 founded upon philosophy, the story is firm, clear-cut, and so 
 interesting as to lift the book far above the level of ordinary 
 romances. Cloth bound. 1.50 
 
 BEVERLY OSGOOD; or, When the Great City is Awake. 
 
 By JANE VALENTINE. This romance sets forth New York life 
 as seen by a student of city conditions of both rich and poor. 
 In Nina Palermo, the heroine, is a convincing illustration of 
 the fearful effect of evil circumstances on the life of an inno 
 cent and beautiful but poor girl. The wide influence of truly 
 good and Christian women toward uplifting the fallen and 
 quietly aiding reform, is also portrayed in the character of 
 "My Lady." It is a work which should do much good. 
 Cloth bound. , . . . . 1.50 
 
 MY FRIEND THE CAPTAIN; or, Two Yankees in Europe. 
 
 By W. L. TERHUNE. The book is one which has much value 
 as a guide book for people going abroad. It has much of in 
 terest to those who have never been abroad. Mr. Terhune s 
 camera served him well, and the book is embellished with 
 a hundred or more illustrations from his photographs. Cloth 
 bound. . . . . . . . . 1.50
 
 UNIVERSITY OF CALIFORNIA LIBRARY 
 
 Los Angeles 
 This book is DUE on the last date stamped below. 
 
 30wi-7, 68(J1895s4) C-120
 
 000 924 329