^
 
 Da 
 
 No. 
 
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 THE LIBRARY 
 
 OF 
 
 THE UNIVERSITY 
 
 OF CALIFORNIA 
 
 LOS ANGELES 
 
 GIFT OF 
 
 California State Library 
 
 takei 
 
 shall 
 
 son ii 
 
 brary 
 
 benel 
 
 and b 
 
 of an - ^^^^-OT-CITIB- 
 
 State,-... niu jjii ui(JTn7"aTTowance or salary, he shall be 
 
 satisfied that such member or officer has returned all 
 
 books taken out of the Library by him, and has settled 
 
 all accounts for injuring such books or otherwise. 
 
 SKC. 15. Books may be taken from the Library by the 
 members of the Legislature and its officers during the 
 session of the same, and at any time by the Governor and 
 the officers of the Executive Department of this State, 
 who are required to keep their offices at the seat of 
 goverment, the Justices of the Supreme Court, the At 
 torney-General and the Trustees of the Library
 
 T E K E L 
 
 CORA GLENCOE. 
 
 1 MENE, MENE, TEKEL, UPHARSIN. 
 This is the interpretation of theOJiIng." DANIEL. 
 
 * 
 
 BY 
 
 tf R A G A N Z A. 
 
 , / ^ , XP '>^H 
 
 *^ // 
 
 PHILADELPHIA: 
 J B. LIPPINCOTT & CO. 
 
 1870.
 
 Entered according to Act of Congress, in the j'ear 1870, by 
 
 J. B. LIPPINCOTT & CO., 
 In the Office of the Librarian of Congress, at Washington.
 
 edicaitd 
 
 TO 
 
 MY COUNTKYWOMEN. 
 
 932659
 
 PEOLOGUE. 
 
 EL PKINCIPE DE LAS TINIEBLAS 
 
 Y 
 
 LA LUNA. 
 
 AT once there came a rush of gorgeous fire 
 Out from the far and secret heights of heaven, 
 And lo! a thing of Shadow swept beneath, 
 And the Realms quaked and shuddered. 
 
 Thus it was. 
 
 Luna unblemished Virgin of the Skies, 
 Celestial Watcher with the Silver Brow 
 Serenely smiled down on the Sons of Men, 
 Wooing with matchless purity of light 
 Their wayward souls upon the way to Heaven. 
 The Angel of the Bottomless Abyss 
 Frowned at the "Bauble" which did draw men's eyes. 
 "For they do stare at It and dream of HIM, 
 And Hell thus loses prey. I'll go me forth 
 And blot out from the view of mortal sight 
 This comely magnet of the souls of men." 
 More silent than a vapor, forth he went; 
 Deadly and viewless crept he up the skies ; 
 And there he balanced on a sable wing, 
 Within the noiseless tremor of whose plumes 
 Were garnered up the ashes of Corruption : 
 His talon hands were reeking with Pollution, 
 And on his breath were blasts of utter Blemish. 
 
 1* (v)
 
 v i PROLOGUE. 
 
 " With ashes will I mar this radiant rim ; 
 I'll dash with slime of Night this zone of pearl ; 
 With fiery blasts of Blemish will I parch 
 This face which men are prone to wonder at, 
 Then sigh and dream and die, and go Beyond, 
 Where I, with all my magic, ne'er can reach: 
 I'll blacken it that there shall be no sign." 
 He hovered, putting forth his hand, when, lo! 
 Ithuriel's gorgeous spear I Swift as the bolt 
 Which scintillates from East to West afar, 
 The baffled Spoiler flashed and cleft the Skies, 
 And down into the Bottomless Abyss 
 He sped him deep away away away I 
 Cowering beneath the Eye which never sleeps. 
 
 EL ESTUPKADOK 
 
 Y 
 
 LA VICTIMA. 
 
 Our Virgins are as Luna fair, 
 
 And with our stainless Women are 
 
 Chief cause of what is good in Men. 
 
 The Jungle Demon haunts the glen, 
 
 And springs upon his helpless prey, 
 
 And rends her purity away. 
 
 But, ah I it is a shame to tell, 
 
 There is no swift Ithuriel, 
 
 Equipp'd with Law and armed with lance, 
 
 Before whose ever-watchful glance 
 
 The demons of Intent shall fly 
 
 And demons of the Deed shall die.
 
 TEKEL, 
 
 OB 
 
 OOEA GLENCOE. 
 
 CHAPTER I. 
 
 THOUGH our scenes are confined almost exclusively to 
 New York and Maryland, this brief opening chapter ne 
 cessarily carries the reader, for a few moments only, to a 
 portion of the distant Southwest where the savage, that 
 painted scourge of the frontier, once held dominion. 
 
 Words and music, sentiment and harmony, have touch- 
 ingly expressed the ever-present experience of the human 
 breast that Home is the dearest spot on earth. Savages 
 are no more strangers to this experience than we who read 
 and write and build cities ; and the implacable red Indian 
 who drinks the blood of bis enemies and tomahawks the 
 children of the paler faces, droops his feathered head when, 
 from far and biting exile, he pictures in his practical and 
 poetical mind the graves of his ancestors, and the woods 
 and waters of his childhood, from which he has been 
 hurled away by the thundering car of Civilization. It is 
 this redeeming trait, this very softening of his barbaric 
 heart, which, upon its revulsion, sends his dread slogan on 
 the wind and urges him to deeds of ruthless and reeking 
 atrocity. 
 
 Those warlike, savages, who had inhabited from un 
 known time the country embracing the upper tributaries of 
 the Brazos River, were, years ago, driven from their do 
 main by the ceaseless and deadly warfare of the once for 
 midable Texas Rangers, and compelled to seek refuge 
 among the wastes and sparse waters toward the district 
 of El Paso. 
 
 CO
 
 8 TEKEL, 
 
 
 
 But at intervals they girded themselves for vengeance 
 and rapine, and, coming down like swift and noiseless 
 foxes, would suddenly burst upon the unaware settle 
 ments, scourging the land, and chilling the hearts of the 
 Lone Star people with their matchless deeds of blood. 
 
 Upon the fountains of the Brazos, toward the Llanos 
 Estacados, they would pitch their lodges and divide into 
 bands. Each band would seek a tributary of that river, 
 and ravage it to its confluence, until both river and sav 
 ages were gathered into a single stream of paramount 
 strength and volume. With their booty and scalp-lock 
 trophies and among the latter might often have been 
 found the long hair of woman, and the short, soft down 
 of the suckling they would retreat as they had come, 
 dividing with the tributaries and baffling pursuit. 
 
 It was just after an extraordinarily daring and destruc 
 tive inroad of this character, during which the whizzing 
 arrows stuck within the outskirts of Waco Village, that 
 the citizens of a wide scope of country adjacent to the 
 Brazos hastily organized and sternly determined to follow 
 the trail of their foes as long as there was a moccasin 
 upon it. Like the savages, they also would divide into 
 bands, and oppose courage to numbers and energy to 
 craft. 
 
 With one of these citizen bands, during its quick cam 
 paign, we propose to go as a spectator. The company 
 counted some thirty mounted men, bristling with weapons, 
 and led by Ross of Waco Village, probably the most 
 effective Indian exterminator in the Brazos country. 
 Riding immediately in the rear of Ross was his son, a 
 daring boy, who had already won the spurs of a Ranger, 
 which, at that day, was no degenerate honor. By the side 
 of the elder Ross went a gentleman whose face was of 
 exceeding comeliness and intelligent resoluteness, and 
 whose general appearance was aristocratic and distin 
 guished. This was Colonel Guy Rapid, a wealthy planter 
 and herder, and originally from Maryland. The comrade 
 of the junior Ross was the beau chevalier of the cavalcade, 
 a blithe and beautiful boy who sat his fiery horse like a 
 young Mameluke. Almost too bonny to be a boy, he was 
 much too manlike ever to be mistaken for a girl in male
 
 OR CORA GLENCOE. 9 
 
 attire. His complexion was a delicate pink, and as fair as 
 might have been his sister's. His eyes were violet, and 
 pure as the blue ether of a summer sky. His countenance 
 was cloudless, and his name should have been "Joyful." 
 In addition to the arms which he carried, a lasso hung in 
 coils from a ring-hook of his saddle, for the boy was of the 
 prairies. In skillful hands the lasso is a dangerous ser 
 pent; but the way now led through an impracticable for 
 est, and he carried it from habit merely. The youth was 
 a gentle fellow, irenic as an affectionate girl, except when 
 on a war-path, when he was the very chief of inveterates 
 and as swift as fire. He was mounted upon a pale, proud 
 stallion, with black mane and black feet, and the trained 
 choice of the prairies. Adonis, hunting the boar, was not 
 better mounted ; nor did he, when disdaining Venus, look 
 more charmingly fresh, nor yet half so manly. The boy 
 was the only son of Colonel Rapid, and his life had ever 
 been as that of the bird which goeth upon the wind where 
 it listeth. There is a distinct class of horse-killing eques 
 trians who might well be dubbed the Whoop-and-yell 
 Cavaliers, who, when they ride, and when do they not ? 
 ride all over their horses: at one moment being up to 
 their ears in the saddle, at another down to their boots out 
 of it. They are to be seen almost everywhere, but in 
 what is known as Western Texas they abound; and, 
 although they may be able, at full speed, to pick a mouse 
 from the sward, or to look back at you from between their 
 horses' hind legs, they are scarcely more graceful or lovely 
 in their equestrianism than would be a monkey riding a 
 rolling barrel under compulsion and over rough ground. 
 Young Rapid was a horseman, but not of the Whoop-and- 
 yell class. He too cculd pick mice from the ground, and ac 
 complish the feat while rushing upon a full-sized horse 
 instead of a little mouse of a pony ; for, notwithstanding 
 that half his years had been spent at college in the East 
 and South, he was the champion athlete, lazador, and 
 sportsman in all the wide range about his Texas home. 
 His superiority was due to a form of the finest mould, an 
 unerring eye, and a steady nerve, as well as to his love of 
 Western and manly sports. Young as he was, and scarcely 
 grown, he had earned from an exacting Eastern institution
 
 10 TEKEL, 
 
 of learning his diploma as a general graduate ; for, in re 
 gard to his mental culture, his father had made no petted 
 darling of him. Out upon the prairies Colonel Rapid had 
 permitted his boy to become an untiring physical athlete ; 
 in college he had stimulated him to become a mental 
 athlete ; in morals the boy had before him the example of 
 his father; in religion the father did not attempt to warp 
 his son's mind this way or that, but handed him the 
 Bible with the exhortation, "My son, this is the way; 
 walk you in it." 
 
 Briskly the Rangers made their way up the Brazos, 
 until, on the third day, they were brought to bay by sud 
 denly finding themselves in the midst of an ambush, from 
 which the feathered arrows came in troops like passing 
 birds. Ross at once knew that he was outnumbered, and 
 by desperate odds, divining that the band upon whose trail 
 he had been following had been joined by other bands of 
 the tribe. The savages, yelling and screeching like devils, 
 rushed in from every side. The Rangers delivered their 
 rifle-balls with mortal efficacy, and succeeded in gaining 
 time to dismount and concert hasty measures of defense. 
 Close quarters seemed to be their only and forlorn hope, 
 and into close quarters they accordingly rushed. Colonel 
 Rapid was almost immediately pierced through by a 
 barbed arrow, and over his fallen body and coveted scalp 
 the battle was made. Young Rapid stood over his father, 
 emptying from either hand the contents of his deadly pis 
 tols. Ross, a tall and powerful man, with giant strength 
 beat down the thickening savages, and young Ross, stand 
 ing back to back with his father, dropped an Indian at 
 every shot. The Rangers fought with a stern and silent 
 energy which eloquently spoke their consciousness that 
 the contest promised to go utterly against them. The 
 savages were gradually closing in and preparing for a 
 sweeping butchery. Already their eyes were glancing 
 toward the horses of the pale faces, snl here and there a 
 warrior was being spared to secure the valuable booty. 
 Every pistol was empty and every gun. The knife and 
 the clubbed rifle now became the sole reliance. The 
 Rangers looked desperately into each other's faces, as if to 
 ask, "What shall we do?"
 
 OR CORA GLENCOE. 11 
 
 " Alamo !" shouted young Rapid in a voice as tameless 
 as the challenge-cry of a war-eagle. 
 
 The crafty Indians drew back and began to manipulate 
 their bows, and in a few moments every bow-thong was 
 taut and ready to launch its feathered herald. At this 
 crisis a young savage, fleet as the antelope, and with a pro 
 longed cry as shrill as the shriek of panic, fled past the 
 scene, and the red warriors melted away like a dissolving 
 view. 
 
 "Tree!" shouted Ross to his men "our friends are 
 coming." 
 
 The Indian arrows began to cut from ambush through 
 the air. The Rangers " treed," and reloaded their fire 
 arms ; after which a stillness supervened like that which 
 might have reigned in the depths of an untrodden wold. 
 During this portentous calm the dusky savages, like noise 
 less serpents, glided here and there, collecting themselves 
 in a more compact body. Presently, from beyond the 
 savages, the sound of battle came. First a rifle volley, 
 then pistolade after pistolade, until the forest rang with 
 mingled shouts, and shrieks, and clangor of furious onset. 
 Ross sprang forward with his men, and the Indian braves, 
 now themselves hemmed in by a contracting girdle of fire, 
 bit the dust and died, but few escaping. 
 
 Among the slain whites was Colonel Rapid. Probably 
 no other man there could have been spared so ill as he"; 
 and as Ross looked down upon the waxen face of this dead 
 gentleman, who had rallied from many a safe league to 
 defend the border, between his gritting teeth he cursed 
 every Indian upon the soil of America. Those who have 
 sperit their lives in the Atlantic and interior States have no 
 conception of the inveterate, sleepless animosity which the 
 frontiersman cherishes for the unmanageable, treacherous, 
 and bloody Indian. Periodically the pioneer is called to 
 look upon the savage's surpassing work, to shudder or 
 weep over the gory ruins of some one dearer than another ; 
 until he learns to lust and yearn for the power of hosts, 
 that by one merciless and universal stroke he might hurl 
 them one and all, a howling, hell-gotten heap, into the 
 bottom of the Pacific Ocean, or grind them to impalpable 
 atoms.
 
 12 TEKEL, 
 
 The results of the fight being ascertained, and as well as 
 possible provided for, the sanguinary ardor provoked by 
 this grappling, scalping, feudal combat, began to cool. 
 Ross turned to young Rapid and said, 
 
 " Cassel, your father's body I will take to "Waco, where 
 a coffin can be provided." 
 
 " Then," said the youth, " I will go home by the nearest 
 route, and meet you at Waco with a vehicle to carry him 
 to Ranche Rapid." 
 
 "Very good. Our other dead we will bury here, and 
 mark their graves, that their friends may recover them." 
 
 Young Rapid mounted his horse and disappeared in the 
 thick forest. He had many leagues to ride before he should 
 rest. He headed his horse for the prairies, regardless of 
 trail or by-path, rode all night, and at dawn of the next 
 day emerged from the forest. Before him was a wide 
 wilderness of waving plain, bounded only by the horizon. 
 Over the grassy expanse, through herds of half- wild cattle, 
 startling here and there a deer, a coyote, or a jack-rabbit, 
 the young Ranger took his way, trusting to his own sense 
 of locality and direction, and to the instinct of his horse, 
 for guidance home. At length he came upon familiar 
 ground, where his father's branded herds were grazing, 
 and where, far away in the unbroken, smoky distance, 
 he could see the clump of trees in which bis home was 
 nestled. After a free gallop, during which the wind 
 whistled through his hair, he approached the front gate of 
 his dwelling. The trumpet neigh of the pale stallion 
 rallied a number of negro servants to the young master's 
 service. One of the negroes silently took charge of the 
 horse and led him away. Those who met their young 
 master had no customary welcome for him, but looked as 
 though they were under sentence of death. The youth 
 immediately observed that there was a strange and des 
 perate gloom upon their faces. He knew that they could 
 not have heard of Colonel Rapid's death, for the first pos 
 sible messenger from the scene in the forest was himself. 
 What, then, could be the cause of their hushed and dejected 
 looks ? 
 
 " Aunt Flora," he asked of an old family servant, " what 
 is the matter here ?"
 
 OR CORA GLENCOE. 13 
 
 She only shook her head and pointed to the house as one 
 pointing to a field of horrors and of doom ; and simulta 
 neously a cry broke out from the gathered negroes which 
 struck terror to the soul of young Rapid, for he knew that 
 something terrible beyond the terrible had happened at 
 Ranche Rapid. Few of our Northern readers have ever 
 heard the wild heart-harrowing wail the almost unearthly 
 requiem of a Southern black clan of slaves over the doom 
 of some worshiped pale face some magnanimous one whom 
 they loved or venerated upon whose life depended, per 
 haps, the future integrity of their clan and families and 
 whose death might scatter them ruthlessly abroad. Young 
 Rapid hastened to the bouse and entered it with dread at 
 his heart. He traversed one room and opened the door of 
 another. Great God ! What was it that overrushed and 
 pillaged through him like a mingled icy and fiery flame, as 
 he looked upon the contents of that room ? Imagine that 
 alone you are entering a place where rests the dead body 
 of your dearest loved. That when you come to look upon 
 the corpse, you see, sitting thereon, the spirit of the dead, 
 in well-known form and feature. With the courage of 
 Hamlet you nerve yourself to approach. What is that 
 boundless consciousness which overcomes you, multiplying 
 your fear, and grief, and ago.ny, and horror, should you, by 
 daring, find that the very spirit which sits upon the corpse 
 is dead ? 
 
 If, from the time of the Narragansetts to that of Red 
 Cloud, the gore of every victim of Indian butchery had 
 flowed in a crimson flood at the feet of young Rapid, bear 
 ing upon its tragic billows the upturned, appealing faces of 
 the murdered, he could have smiled upon it all in com 
 parison with what he now encountered. But over this 
 surpassing spectacle we must suffer a temporary veil to 
 hang ; a pall, as black as impenetrable midnight. Vain 
 would be the effort to tell what that dauntless, true, and 
 tender-hearted brother felt, as his breast was plowed up 
 and riven by the fell testimony before his eyes. Go up 
 into the mountain and f*luck an untrammeled pen from the 
 wild plumage of the eagle, and dive down into the bottom 
 of your heart for thoughts and images, and you will never 
 reach from height or depth wherewith adequately to tell 
 
 2
 
 14 TEKEL, 
 
 of that too terrible and plaintive thing which rested in this 
 Western home. There it lay a ruin a WRONG, unfathom 
 able in its depths, boundless in its degree, more bleak and 
 blighting than Arctic winter, and foul as the strategy of 
 hissing hell. Upon this ruin, this inestimable ivrong, 
 our narrative is founded, with the humble and sincere 
 hope that it may prove an outcry, reaching, by reason of 
 its simple, plaintive truth, into the secret chambers of the 
 soul of every manly reader, and echoing thence throughout 
 the dominions of men, for there are laws more brittle to 
 be broken than icicles. 
 
 CHAPTER II. 
 
 A LETTER, dated at Ranche Rapid, directed to Rev. St. 
 John Hope, Creswood Post-office, Maryland, and signed 
 " Cassel Pontiac Rapid," left Waco Village by mail about 
 two weeks after the events of our opening chapter. 
 Young Rapid had signed his full name, not that he con 
 sidered it either grand or imposing, but that there might 
 be no question as to the identity of the writer; for the 
 letter was an important one, and was intended to lead to 
 important and specific results. The Rev. St. John Hope, 
 who was an old friend of the youth's father, was requested 
 to direct his reply to the City of New Orleans. 
 
 In advance of this letter we must now go to Creswood, 
 and, with the wand of the historian, call back from the 
 past a few essential years. 
 
 Gale Island, which, by the fury of storms, has been 
 reduced to an insignificant pile of rocks, was, at the date 
 which we now recall, a fractional though detached. portion 
 of the Atlantic shore of Maryland. In area it measured 
 about ten acres. It was not set in the sea as an island 
 proper, but was on a line with tlft low beach, which, at 
 either hand, was called respectively " Larboard" and 
 " Starboard" Strand, the island being the central and 
 determining point, and intervening so that larboard and
 
 OR CORA GLENCOE. 15 
 
 starboard were denied a mutual view. In respect to the 
 strand, the island, though by no means an ugly object, 
 seemed as much out of place as would seem a house 
 towering in the center of a pleasant street. To the rear 
 of the island, that is, on its continental side, was a small 
 deep bay, where a coasting-vessel might ride in safety 
 though the sea should be in its wrath. Seaward was 
 deep water, which led up to the front base of the island, 
 and around it on either hand, by a moat or canal, into 
 the little bay at the rear. The strands to the right and 
 left were backed by abrupt and wooded bluffs, against 
 which the waters never rose unless urged by irresistible 
 winds. 
 
 Captain Gale of Gale Island, and sole proprietor, was 
 a stalwart man, of middle stature ; honest and rugged in 
 his aspect. He was about forty years of age, and already 
 it seemed that the sea, with which he had buffeted from 
 his boyhood, had lodged some of its spray in his hair 
 and beard. A wife, a son of six years, and an infant 
 daughter comprised his family, to whom he was devoted, 
 and for whom he worked hard. Captain Gale was an in 
 telligent, self-reliant, courageous, pacific man, and a little 
 quaint withal. When he came into possession of the 
 island he gave it his own name, saying, with the pride 
 of an honest pedigree, that there was not a better name 
 on land or sea. 
 
 A neat stone cottage now crowned the ocean front of 
 the isle, and a stout paling-fence, which inclosed the 
 cottage, kept the little son from wandering off to danger 
 ous places, and prevented the family cow from poking her 
 head in at the cottage windows. A noble-looking water- 
 dog was free to frisk or bathe, or lazily sleep in the sunny 
 spots. The cottage was vine-clad, and a few native trees 
 and some exotic shrubbery and phoenix-like flowers graced 
 and garlanded the premises. It was a pleasant place, 
 with a charming outlook, except in ugly weather. 
 
 Captain Gale was much away from "port, "as he called, 
 his home, trading along the coast, sometimes as far up as 
 New York and as far down as Norfolk. 
 
 Nautically he was only a skipper, but, as all modern 
 titles are magnified by social or official brevet, Skipper
 
 16 TEKEL, 
 
 Gale, out of like cheap compliment, was Captain Gale, 
 without abatement, wherever he set his foot or unfurled 
 his sail. 
 
 He had owned several small vessels, one after another, 
 and each had borne the name of Whitecap; and it was 
 his scheme of life, should he ever own another, and yet 
 another, that each should succeed to that untarnished and 
 suggestive title. 
 
 The Whitecap had long been a welcome and expected 
 visitor in the estuaries and inlets not accessible to sea 
 going merchantmen, and cut off by bad roads, or no roads 
 at all, from the inland marts ; and Captain Gale made an 
 honest and comfortable living by his traffic with the 
 dwellers at those rustic-marine ports. 
 
 It was late in the afternoon of a faultless October day 
 that Mrs. Gale, for the twentieth time, went out upon the 
 cottage portico which looked upon the ocean, and glanced 
 southward. She was expecting her husband. Her face 
 brightened as she saw the Whitecap riding the gently- 
 heaving billows, and slowly making for the home-harbor. 
 She waved her white apron, as was her custom ; and 
 Captain Gale, as was his custom, doubtless observed to 
 his crew, with a quaint pride, that there flew the flag 
 under which he loved to sail. 
 
 Another custom of the island, in which both Captain 
 and Mrs. Gale took delight, was not yet obsolete. As the 
 boat crept under the shore, little Johnny Gale, standing 
 by his mother, hailed, 
 " Sip ahoy ?" 
 The answer came up bold and hearty, 
 
 ' Whitecap, Gale master." 
 
 ' Whar 'ou fum ?" 
 
 ' Oyster Shallows." 
 
 ' Whar 'ou boun' ?" 
 
 1 Port." 
 
 ' 'ou can pass." 
 
 ' Ha ! ha ! h-a !" laughed Captain Gale, while the 
 mother patted her young pride on the cheek, and told 
 him if he continued to be a good boy he should one day 
 have a ship of his own. 
 
 The vessel was soon moored, and the crew, being of
 
 OR CORA GLENCOE. 17 
 
 Creswood, were dismissed for short family visits. Cap 
 tain Gale, in his sea-jacket, approached his cottage. His 
 wife and baby, boy and dog, met him and encompassed 
 him for caresses. He bestowed them heartily, and the 
 family entered the cottage. 
 
 "John," asked Mrs. Gale of her husband, "are you 
 hungry ?" 
 
 " Is a shark hungry?" replied the captain. 
 
 Mrs. Gale immediately went about providing supper, 
 while the father dandled and toyed with his children. 
 The baby was named Catharine, brevet Caddy. 
 
 " Come to supper, John," brightly said Mrs. Gale ; and 
 the husband, whose appetite had been sharpened by the 
 ocean air, and enhanced by the idea of eating on shore, 
 went in to a comforting meal. 
 
 The shadow of the bluffs stole slowly out to sea, dark 
 ening the waterscape as the dusk came down, and the 
 strand grew hazy with the gathering gloom of night. 
 
 The air was quite cool, foreboding heavy frost, and 
 Captain Gale withdrew from the cottage portico, where, 
 after his soothing supper, he had been quietly smoking a 
 soothing pipe, to a cheerful fire within the cottage. He 
 felt as comfortable, cheerful, and snug, before the bright 
 fire, as the cricket chirping from the crevice of his hearth 
 stone. His little housewife was brisk and busy ; the 
 children were asleep, with faces peeping from the cover ; 
 and he himself was resting from his vessel's helm, and 
 girdled by the comforts and affection of the home where 
 his heart was. 
 
 When Mrs. Gale had put away her cups and dishes, 
 she came in to her husband, sat down by him, looked up 
 in his face, and smiled. There was something so affec 
 tionate, gratified, and entrapping in the little woman's 
 smile, that the husband suspiciously, but good-humoredly, 
 observed, 
 
 "Now, Sallie, you are getting under my lee. What is 
 it, a new bonnet, or what?" 
 
 Mrs. Gale only smiled the more pleasantly, replying, 
 
 " John, I want nothing." 
 
 " What, then, means that insinuating sunrise on your 
 face ?" 
 
 2*
 
 18 TEKEL, 
 
 " I am only glad that you are come." 
 
 "Oh, that's it, is it?" replied the stout captain, while 
 he experienced a pleasant undertow of domestic emotion, 
 and thought of the lines in which that tomb-vexed 
 prodigy, Byron, told how deeply dear it was to hear 
 the watch-dog's honest bark, bay deep-mouthed welcome 
 as we draw near home, and to have some waiting bright 
 one look the brighter when we come. " Now that I am 
 here, Sallie," continued the captain, "suppose you give 
 me the news." 
 
 The vicinity of Gale Island was ordinarily as quiet as 
 an English dell, rarely enlivened except by the arrivals 
 and departures of the Whitecap. The neighborhood 
 wealth was monopolized by a few families, between whom 
 sociability appeared to have reached the stage of stagna 
 tion or petrifaction. For this state of affairs various 
 causes might be assigned, which we will not now investi 
 gate. The less pretentious of the community, however, 
 circulated freely among themselves, seeking and extend 
 ing a cheerful hospitality. Notwithstanding an almost 
 uninterrupted calm in this uneventful region, Mrs. Gale 
 was rarely without news of some sort for her husband 
 when he came home. And her delight or sympathetic 
 interest in detailing it, was only equaled by the satisfac 
 tion or neighborly concern with which he gave ear to it 
 and made his comments. 
 
 "The most important and most melancholy news I 
 have to tell you is that Mrs. Rapid is dead " 
 
 " What!" exclaimed Captain Gale. " Mrs. Guy Rapid ?" 
 
 "Yes." 
 
 "There was not another such woman in all Creswood." 
 
 Creswood was the name of the forest region adjacent to 
 Gale Island. It was originally Crescent Wold, but indo 
 lent tongues had contracted and moulded it into a word of 
 easier articulation. Captain Gale continued, 
 
 " You always liked her, Sallie ?" 
 
 " I loved her," said Mrs. Gale. " I think she was the 
 loveliest woman I ever saw. With all her wealth she 
 was not too vain to visit plain people. And she was kind 
 to the needy. In her last hours she was an angel. I was 
 with her, and her little children, God help them, they
 
 OR CORA GLENCOE. 19 
 
 knew not what they were losing." Mrs. Gale, somewhat 
 affected, wiped her eyes, and continued, " I am wrong. 
 I forget about little Cassel, Pony, as he is often called. 
 I cannot tell you how that child acted ; not like a frantic 
 thing, but with a quiet, wretched, sweet, and untiring 
 watchfulness, that made my heart ache." 
 
 " When did she die ?" 
 
 " Just two weeks ago. The whole country flocked to 
 her funeral." 
 
 " That is of no consequence," said Captain Gale. " If 
 the devil himself were to die, and die rich, there would be 
 no lack of mourners. But how about Mr. Rapid ? Does 
 he still talk of going to Texas ?" 
 
 " He is preparing to start this fall." 
 
 "Has he sold?" 
 
 "Everything but the negroes and some fine stock, which 
 he will take with him." 
 
 " He has long held that Creswood would never be much 
 more or less than it is at present, and I am rather of his 
 opinion." . 
 
 " But Western Texas is so uncivilized," observed Mrs. 
 Gale. 
 
 " He is just the kind of man to civilize it, or help do so." 
 
 " And make savages of his children meanwhile," re 
 turned the wife. " His little boy is but eight years old, 
 and his daughter is almost an infant." 
 
 " He is able to educate them wherever he likes. You 
 can rest satisfied that there'll be no lack of polish on Guy 
 Rapid's children when they are grown. Creswood is 
 almost as far out of the world as Texas. But who bought 
 his place ?" 
 
 " He divided the land into small farms, which were 
 mostly taken by the neighbors. I think his wife's death 
 has hastened his departure, and he has doubtless sold at a 
 sacrifice." 
 
 " Who took the mansion-house ?" 
 
 " He gave it away." 
 
 " What ! Gave it away ?" 
 
 " Yes ; to our minister, Mr. Hope." 
 
 " A good and timely deed," said Captain Gale. 
 
 " And not only that," said Mrs. Gale, " but he connected
 
 TEKEL, 
 
 .h the gift about thirty acres adjoining the house, every 
 article of furniture except some heirlooms, two good cows, 
 a pair of serviceable horses, and the family carriage and 
 harness. And he has had the ground marked off, inclosed, 
 and put in the best of order." 
 
 " I knew there was no humbug or half way about Guy 
 Rapid, but this is one of the few times that I have ever 
 cast anchor alongside of the like. Such volunteers, Sallie, 
 are scarce. And then Mr. Rapid is not a member of Mr. 
 Hope's church, or of any other. He is, moreover, a Loco- 
 foco and a Marylander, while Mr. Hope is a native of Con 
 necticut and a Webster Whig. But the two men always 
 liked each other, and whenever Rapid gave a dinner-party 
 Mr. Hope was there to ask a blessing." 
 
 " But Mrs. Rapid was a member of Mr. Hope's church, 
 and that, in a measure, may account for her husband's 
 generosity," said Mrs. Gale. 
 
 " They will all go to hear the preacher," said Captain 
 Gale, " now that his sermons will be composed in an ele 
 gant study, and drawn to church in a carriage. Respect 
 ability is the thing, Sallie. Make religion respectable, so 
 that a man won't have to compromise his dignity, or a 
 woman her vanity, in order to get to heaven. Don't you 
 see ?" 
 
 " I hope you'll go to hear him then, husband, and join 
 the church also. I don't like this separation, John, I in 
 the church and you barred out from me, any more than I 
 do your being so much away from home." 
 
 " I do go to hear him," said Captain Gale, " when I'm 
 in port on Sundays. But as for being barred out, as you 
 call it, I could brace sails and skip the bar if I thought it 
 the only port of entry. But I'm not so certain that my way 
 is not as free of rocks and breakers as yours, after all." 
 
 " What is your way, husband ?" 
 
 " I read my Bible, say my prayers, uphold the laws of 
 my country, help poorer men than myself, and pilot the 
 Whitecap." 
 
 " Quite an enumeration of saving clauses," said the 
 wife; " but I very much doubt if you ever even look at 
 your Bible, or offer a prayer, unless you see a tremendous 
 storm coming up," and Mrs. Gale smiled with affectionate 
 reproach.
 
 OR CORA GLENCOE. 21 
 
 "Yes, I do, honey," replied the half- guilty husband, 
 who, by way of changing the subject, inquired, " but you 
 haven't given me all the news yet, Sallie ? Let's have the 
 whole of it, for I'm off to sea, you know, with the change 
 of the moon." 
 
 " Oh, well, there's plenty of time ; it doesn't take a woman 
 more than ten minutes so say the men to tell all she 
 knows," said Mrs. Gale with playful sarcasm. 
 
 "Women," replied the retaliatory captain, "are like 
 shoal water, bottom always within sight or sounding. 
 Men are profound like the deep water : you may not be 
 able to fathom it, but you know that the bottom is down 
 there." 
 
 "Which knowledge does a vast amount of good," said 
 the little woman. " But let us return to Creswood. Things 
 are not bright at Cliff Hall." 
 
 "What's the matter there now??" asked the captain, em 
 phasizing the last word as if it were usage for something 
 to be awry at Cliff Hall, and the present occasion an aggra 
 vated succession of the oft-recurring ills which visited that 
 unfortunate hold. 
 
 " Well, to begin," said the wife, "the Necromancer " 
 
 "Stop, Sallie," said Captain Gale interrupting. "No 
 Necromancer about it. Oswald Huron, you mean to say." 
 
 " Yes. And since you are so exact, I shall endeavor to 
 be equally so in what I have to tell," said Mrs. Gale with 
 a jaunty poise of her person where she sat in her rocking- 
 chair. " Now you listen, and don't interrupt me. There 
 are two brothers. Neville Huron, the elder, lives in Phil 
 adelphia ; Oswald Huron, the younger, lives at Cliff Hall. 
 You can see Cliff Hall, if you will only wait until morning, 
 from our front portico. It is on a bluff about a mile and a 
 fraction up the Larboard Strand." 
 
 "Sallie, don't be provoking; you know I've seen it at 
 least a thousand times." 
 
 "Belay your tongue," laughed Mrs. Gale, "and listen. 
 Oswald Huron, who has been away from home, returned 
 to Cliff Hall about three weeks ago. His wife, you know, 
 is dead. His infant daughter is, and has been, in the care 
 of Maria Guthrie, an old but somewhat tricky family ser 
 vant. Very well. Mr. Neville Huron, wife, and infant
 
 22 TEKEL, 
 
 daughter have been down from Philadelphia on a visit to 
 Cliff Hall, bringing with them a Chestnut Street nurse. 
 Soon came a letter to Mrs. Neville Huron, informing her 
 that her mother was at the point of death, and urging that 
 she return immediately to Philadelphia. She went in haste, 
 accompanied by her husband, leaving her child and the 
 nurse at Cliff Hall as an expedient. Neville Huron's infant 
 and the Necromancer's infant, both girls, are about the 
 same age, and so much alike that none but the nurses 
 can distinguish one from the other. Even the Necro- 
 
 rnancer- 
 
 ' Necromancer the dev- 
 
 "Husb, John," cried Mrs. Gale, clapping her hand over 
 her husband's mouth, " and let me go on. As if to enhance 
 their resemblance, the infants have of late been dressed 
 exactly alike, Mrs. Neville Huron having duplicated the 
 apparel of her own child and presented the duplicates to 
 the child of her brother-in-law. When she left Cliff Hall 
 for Philadelphia, then the trouble commenced. The nurse 
 which she had brought down with her became dissatisfied 
 and cut out. There was Oswald Huron with two young 
 babies on his hands, not knowing t'other from which, and 
 not the mildest-mannered man in the world, as you well 
 know," and Mrs. Gale laughed, "and with but one nurse 
 to attend to them. He actually sent down to me for advice 
 or assistance; and, after much persuasion, I induced Amy 
 Turnbolt, your niece, who has a superstitious dread of Cliff 
 Hall, and especially of the Necromancer, to go up there 
 and take charge of Mrs.. Neville Huron's infant. So the 
 babies now have a nurse each, and are nourished entirely 
 from milk-bottles and sugar-tits. Did I do right ?" 
 
 "Yes, honey, you did right, as you always try to do; 
 though we don't owe Oswald Huron any special good will. 
 He accused me of smuggling once; that is, he called me a 
 smuggler to my face. I asked him if he had ever made 
 that assertion elsewhere. He replied that he had not. I 
 then told him that he had simply uttered a falsehood of 
 which I could afford to take no notice. He drew a pistol 
 on me. I took it away from him, and threw it into the 
 sea. He measured me with his eye, and though a tall and 
 powerful man himself, he evidently concluded that I was
 
 OR CORA GLENCOE. 23 
 
 pretty rugged, and contented himself with threatening to 
 put an honest trading-boat in my waters. You recollect 
 that the Whitecap for awhile had a rival. That rival was 
 launched against the Whitecap by Oswald Huron. How 
 ever, as the enterprise failed," continued Captain Gale 
 complacently, " I don't harbor any particular malice ; but 
 I am not indebted to him for any favors. His brother, 
 Neville, is much the better man, and as long as it is his 
 child that Amy cares for, I've no objection to make. But 
 I am surprised that Oswald Huron should have applied to 
 you. His disposition is by no means relenting, and don't 
 you know, Sallie, that though I can forgive him for his at 
 tempt to injure me, he can never forgive me? It is so 
 with the world." 
 
 " What became of the rival boat ?" asked Mrs Gale. 
 
 " As I said before, it was a failure. He sold it, and 
 I've not heard of it since." 
 
 " John, you never told me one word of this." 
 
 "What was the use? I do not carry your troubles to 
 sea with me, and I won't bring mine ashore to perplex 
 you." 
 
 " That Oswald Huron is a strange man," said Mrs. 
 Gale reflectively. " Do you believe, husband, that he is 
 anything of a necromancer ?" 
 
 " Fiddle-dee, Sallie ; there are no such things, at least 
 on land." 
 
 " They are all at sea, are they, John ?" laughed the 
 wife. 
 
 " Sallie, what's the use reviving that old question be 
 tween us ?" 
 
 " Because I think you sailors are so ridiculous. Now, 
 I want you to tell me for good and all, do you, or do you 
 not, believe those strange and horrible legends of the 
 sea ?" 
 
 " They are like many other things, Sallie, which we are 
 called upon to put faith in. I can't say that I actually 
 believe them, but some of them have a hold upon me that 
 I neither can or care to shake off. It is a kind of religion, 
 and has made me shift my helm, and then laugh at my- 
 ?elf, more than once. But there is one superstition which, 
 whether I believe in it or not, I would not dare to trans 
 gress or disregard."
 
 24 TEKEL, 
 
 "What is that, John ?" asked Mrs. Gale, interested be 
 yond the ordinary. 
 
 " The sailor's Black Oath," said Captain Gale impres 
 sively. 
 
 "What sort of a black thing is it?" asked Mrs. Gale 
 with a lurking smile. 
 
 " It's an oath which is sooner or later followed by retri 
 bution at sea, if the swearer ever violates it or perjures 
 himself in the taking of it." 
 
 " But what does he swear by ?" asked the little woman. 
 
 " Pshaw 1 Sallie ; you will never have to take it." 
 
 " But I want to know what it is," urged the wife. 
 
 "Well," consented the husband, "the sailor pledges 
 ' By the salt at the bottom of Neptune's grog? " and Cap 
 tain Gale's countenance indicated that he considered the 
 pledge no mere holiday password. 
 
 The effect upon Mrs. Gale was irresistible ; and much 
 to the surprise and somewhat to the discomfiture of the 
 earnest captain, she greeted his grave announcement with 
 a carol of heartfelt merry laughter. 
 
 " Tut, Sallie," finally remonstrated Captain Gale, " you 
 outcackle a pullet over her first egg." 
 
 " But, John, it does sound so much like ' Tales of the 
 Ocean,' which I used to read when you were a sailor lad, 
 and I was your lassie." 
 
 The captain softened at this timely and affectionate 
 reference. He observed, 
 
 "During that time, Sallie, I took the Black Oath my 
 self." 
 
 " You took the Black Oath !" 
 
 " Yes." 
 
 " What in the world for ?" 
 
 " To satisfy your father." 
 
 " My father ? Why did he require it ?" 
 
 " On your account, honey. Sailors, you know, are prone 
 to be Mormons, having a wife at every port. But you 
 need not laugh at the sailor's oath, for punishment follows 
 its violation as sure as fruit follows bloom ; at least I have 
 not known it otherwise. I will mention one case, Joe 
 Aiken ; do you recollect him ?" 
 
 " Yes. Was he a sailor ?"
 
 OR CORA GLENCOE. 25 
 
 " He was a salt-water man," said Captain Gale. " Well, 
 he took the Black Oath, and violated it when he betrayed 
 that simple-hearted Ennis girl. He was always afraid 
 of salt water after that, and kept away from it for 
 years. At last, when he was a little drunker than usual, 
 he stepped into a skiff and shoved off. The tide was flowing 
 out. He had no oars. He was carried to sea ; and that 
 was the last of him. The skiff was washed ashore, 
 bottom upwards, about a week after." 
 
 " He was no loss to the neighborhood," observed Mrs. 
 Gale ; " arid speaking of him, reminds me that his son 
 Jonas, and several other young men about here, are going 
 to Texas with Mr. Rapid." 
 
 " What does Guy Rapid want with such a fellow as 
 Jonas Aiken ? Of the few bad characters about Creswood 
 he is decidedly the worst, and a mere boy at that." 
 
 " Some of them go as herders, some to seek their for 
 tunes in the West." 
 
 " Guy Rapid is doing Creswood a service by taking 
 Jonas out of it; but I can't say that he manifests a due re 
 gard for the community to which he shall introduce him," 
 said Captain Gale, laughing. 
 
 " Jonas will not be much the better of wild cattle and 
 Indians," responded Mrs. Gale. 
 
 After a continued rambling and conjugal conversation, 
 Captain Gale went out to make his boat snug for the night, 
 while Mrs. Gale turned down the bedcover and beat up 
 the pillows, with the wifely ambition of making her hus 
 band's berth with her snugger than his bunk on board the 
 Whiteca.p. 
 
 As Captain Gale was stepping aboard of his craft, he 
 heard a stifled shriek, followed instantly by a heavy splash 
 in the water on the opposite side of his little bay. He 
 sprang into a skiff which was always kept on duty at the 
 island, and with vigorous stfokes shot across to the point 
 whence came the unusual sounds. Nearing the opposite 
 shore, he saw, in the twilight of the brilliant stars, a 
 human head, with long hair straying on the surface of the 
 water. He grasped the hair, and attempted to drag into 
 the skiff what proved to be a woman. 
 
 3
 
 26 TEKEL, 
 
 CHAPTER III. 
 
 " LET go my hair, Uncle John ; you are pulling it out!" 
 cried a feminine voice from the water. 
 
 " Thunder and lightning, Amy Turnbolt ! What the 
 devil are you doing in here ?" 
 
 " Let go my hair, I tell you, or darned if I don't capsize 
 your skiff; you know I can swim; pull me in by the 
 arms," cried the girl in ready words but distracted tone. 
 
 " A pretty swim you'd make of it with all your clothes 
 on," said Captain Gale as he drew his niece into the skiff. 
 He then rowed back to the Whitecap without another 
 word. He knew that Amy Turnbolt was either crazed 
 or most terribly frightened. He took her into the little 
 cabin of his vessel and lighted a lamp. He threw a 
 blanket about the wet girl and seated her. She was pale 
 and wild, and shivering from cold and terror. Captain 
 Gale uncorked a bottle, poured out half a pint of still wine, 
 and gave it to her. The wine in a measure braced and 
 restored her. 
 
 " Now, Amy, tell me what has happened," said Captain 
 Gale a little sternly, for he knew that there was something 
 behind the involuntary bath from which he had just res 
 cued her. 
 
 " Oh, uncle, it is dreadful!" she almost whispered. 
 
 " Tell me what it is, Amy," calmly urged the uncle. 
 
 " Oh, Uncle John, let me rest a little and recollect what 
 it was, it is so like a dream to me." 
 
 " Captain Gale waited. Finally he observed, 
 
 " You have been up at Cliff Hall nursing, Sallie tells 
 me." 
 
 " Oh, I didn't want to go there at all where that Necro 
 mancer was, and that was the beginning of this terrible 
 thing." 
 
 At length the girl was induced to tell her story. Tt 
 seemed that she and Maria Guthrie, the other nurse at 
 Cliff Hall, with the two infant daughters of Neville and
 
 OR CORA GLENCOE. 21 
 
 Oswald Huron, had been rambling in the woods during 
 the day. They seated themselves upon the verge of a 
 precipice. At their feet was a deep chasm. Their seat 
 was on a shelving rock, which, when they attempted to 
 rise for the purpose of returning to the Hall, tilted over 
 the bluff with them. The other nurse threw her disen 
 gaged arm about a sapling, and regained her footing ; but 
 Amy, in order to save herself, was compelled to let go her 
 charge, and the infant was torn and dashed to pieces by a 
 fall of more than a hundred feet. Amy fled in dismay, 
 and hid in the woods until after dark, when she started for 
 the island. Her terror grew with every step, and hearing 
 noises behind her, she sped through the forest, satisfied 
 that the Necromancer was almost upon her with an un 
 earthly vengeance. In her haste to reach the island she 
 fell into the bay. 
 
 Amy's story was not coherent in every respect, but the 
 foregoing was, succinctly, about all that her uncle could 
 make of it ; and although he credited the story in the 
 main, he thought it probable that the nurses were more 
 careless and to blame than Amy's account admitted. 
 
 Captain Gale was proud of the unsullied though humble 
 fame of his family. He was also, upon well-grounded 
 and intelligent principle, strictly a law-abiding and law 
 sustaining citizen. Therefore when Amy entreated him 
 to take her out of the country and away from the wrath 
 of the Necromancer, he answered, 
 
 " Amy, if you have told me the truth ; that is, if you 
 have not had the actual facts frightened out of your mind 
 by your natural and unnatural terror, there will be no oc 
 casion for you to leave the country ; and furthermore, 
 under no circumstances would such a course be the proper 
 one. This unfortunate accident will undergo a legal inves 
 tigation, for Oswald Huron is a confirmed litigant, and of 
 course must have it into court. Now don't become yet 
 more alarmed. Will Maria Guthrie corroborate what you 
 have told me ?" 
 
 " Yes, sir, every word of it," answered Amy with a pos 
 sibly suspicious alacrity. Captain Gale continued, 
 
 " Very well, then, you will have nothing to fear. I will 
 employ Lawyer May to act as your counsel, and when the
 
 28 TEKEL, 
 
 matter is disposed of in the regular way, it will be forever 
 buried. But you go running off or hiding, and you'll get 
 yourself into shoal water, and flounder the balance of your 
 life. If you run away, it is equivalent to pleading guilty, 
 and might lead to severe punishment." 
 
 Amy, who was rather a headstrong girl, had sense 
 to appreciate her uncle's counsel. She also placed great 
 confidence in Lawyer May, who, in addition to his legal 
 and social force, had few reasons to befriend Oswald Hu 
 ron, and many not to befriend him. She determined to 
 face an investigation. 
 
 "Uncle, I'm cold," she at length said. 
 
 "Come into the house then, to the fire." 
 
 Captain Gale had remained so long out of the cottage, 
 that Mrs. Gale, by no means timorous, began to grow un 
 easy. Her uneasiness was changed to amazement and 
 horror when Amy was brought in and her story twice told, 
 with this addition, that the naangled remains of the infant 
 had been abandoned by the nurses, who had found it im 
 possible to reach the spot where the child lay dead. 
 
 Oswald Huron, of Cliff Hall, a tall, dark man of towering 
 passions, was roused to fury when told of the calamity, 
 and the Hall resounded with his voice and tread. He as 
 serted rapidly and again that the nurses had murdered the 
 child, or trifled its life away ; and that they should feel the 
 weight of the criminal law, and otherwise know what it 
 was to come under his wrath. Had it been reported to him 
 that his own child was dead, and reported by the nurse 
 who was responsible for its life and comfort, he, rather than 
 not, would have butchered the messenger before the words 
 were cool. A it was, he dismissed Maria Guthrie sum 
 marily, and sent the surviving infant over to Mrs. Hope, 
 the minister's wife, requesting her to take charge of it for 
 a few days. Summoning assistance, he provided himself 
 with ropes, and proceeded to recover the little corpse which 
 lay so ghastly and alone out in the gloomy chasm to which 
 it would long give a tragic and elegiac repute. It was piti 
 lessly torn by the rude rocks against which it had raked 
 and rasped in its fall, and nothing but the golden locket sus 
 pended from its wrenched neck could have identified it. 
 In this locket was incased a daguerreotype miniature of
 
 OR CORA GLENCOE. 29 
 
 Neville Huron. About the neck of the surviving infant 
 hung a similar locket with similar contents, each being pres 
 ents from Neville Huron, one to his own child, the other, 
 to the child of his brother. 
 
 The mangled body was gathered up, and clothed and 
 coffined for the tomb, with the locket about its neck, and on. 
 the second succeeding day Oswald Huron started to Phil 
 adelphia with a clod of precious clay, all that he could 
 return of the priceless, warm little life and motion which 
 had been so unfortunately left in his care. But before 
 leaving Creswood he had not failed to place Maria Guthrie 
 and Amy Turnbolt under bonds to appear at the next sit 
 ting of the court of criminal jurisdiction. 
 
 It is one of the most difficult things in the world for two 
 or more persons to concert a lie, and, apart from each other, 
 so tell it as to deceive an acute lawyer; especially when 
 that lawyer, acting as their counsel, is entitled to a measure 
 of their confidence, and enjoys the privilege of probing their 
 bosoms. Not that there is any peculiar ingenuity or talent 
 required for the simple asseveration of a direct and com 
 plete falsehood, but the trouble is to make the lie fit the 
 truth which surrounds it, and accommodate all the tribu 
 tary circumstances which flow in upon it. 
 
 Lawyer May, as counsel for Amy Turnbolt and Maria 
 Guthrie, was perfectly well satisfied, after he had examined 
 them, that there was a concealment, a secret between them, 
 which, though it should be divulged, might not attach guilt 
 to them in respect to the infant's death, but would, notwith 
 standing, put a different color upon that unfortunate event. 
 What it was that they were withholding, he could neither 
 imagine nor extract from them, but that it was something 
 he was morally certain. 
 
 Precedent after precedent (if the phrase is allowable), 
 and some of them illustrious in their character, has long 
 established, among the members of the litigious bar, that 
 it is the duty of a lawyer, in the capacity of counsel and 
 advocate, to assert and maintain the innocence of his client, 
 however guilty the lawyer himself may, by deduction or 
 private confession, know that client to be. 
 
 Lawyer May, of Creswood, an honorable man, and a gen 
 tleman withal, did not swav from the established profes- 
 
 3*
 
 30 TEKEL, 
 
 sional rule when he defended Amy Turnbolt and Maria 
 Guthrie from the exceptional and vigorous legal assaults 
 of Oswald Huron, and brought them off innocent in the eye 
 of the law as two young lambs. 
 
 Captain Gale honestly sustained his niece, and, indi 
 rectly, Maria Guthrie, with whose fortunes those of his 
 niece were linked in this particular interest. 
 
 In general, Oswald Huron was an inimical. In detail, 
 he was a foe, none the less bitter or inveterate from his 
 consciousness of being in the wrong. Creswood, and all 
 therein, he held in utter contempt, with the exception, 
 possibly, of Mr. St. John Hope, whose walk in life was 
 irreproachable, and whose years were beginning to make 
 him venerable ; neither of which facts or conditions inter 
 fered with the whims and what-nots of Mr. Oswald 
 Huron.. Though rarely leaving his premises, he, by his 
 wealth and vindictive mental activity, was enabled to 
 annoy almost every one upon whom he took a fancy to 
 fix his displeasure ; and frequently his displeasure fell 
 without premonition or provocation. Where it would 
 fall next was as uncertain as the spot upon which the 
 next thunderbolt would descend. Socially he was an iota, 
 a jot. His heart was fiery and impracticable, and his 
 disposition would have essayed discord in the presence of 
 the great Irenarch himself. He did not care a hoot for 
 anybody's opinions but his own, and in his action was as 
 inconsistent as the absolute temperance reformer, who, in 
 exhausting his subject, prematurely exhausts himself, and 
 thereupon calls for an invigorator, a rum-punch for in 
 stance, with a green brier in it. 
 
 After the legal investigation of the causes which cut 
 short the career of the infant Huron had resulted in the 
 unconditional discharge of the two nurses, unusually 
 rough words, provoked by Oswald Huron, passed between 
 himself and Lawyer May, which, with the unfortunate and 
 crooked temper of Mr. Huron, complicated the future his 
 tory of the Huron brothers, and led to deplorable results. 
 
 Oswald Huron also set upon Captain Gale for innocently 
 and energetically sustaining his niece, and although the 
 dauntless mariner, out of compassion for Mr. Huron's 
 natural distress, bore and forbore a deal more than was
 
 OR CORA GLENCOE. 31 
 
 palatable, a serious personal encounter had been imminent, 
 and was only averted by the pacific coolness of the stout 
 captain. . 
 
 Over the hills and through the forest, at a distance of 
 some three or four miles from Gale Island, a country-store, 
 surrounded by a few straggling houses, the nucleus of a 
 possible village, was kept by Mr. Ichabod Nutt, who dealt 
 in the customary articles of neighborhood barter. 
 
 Captain Gale accommodated Mr. Nutt with imported 
 goods, in part return for which the merchant passed over 
 to the captain 'the available produce of the country. 
 Periodically a balancing of accounts current transpired 
 between them, and it was odd if the cash balance was not 
 in favor of the Whitecap. 
 
 In pure business transactions Captain Gale was as 
 prompt to collect as he was prompt to pay, and for the pur 
 pose of arranging an important balance, he stepped into 
 Mr. Nutt's place of business one fine morning in the lat 
 ter part of the autumn which introduced the reader to 
 Creswood. Having settled with the merchant and spent 
 some time with him in neighborly gossip, he was about to 
 return to the island, when Oswald Huron, a seldom visitor, 
 entered the store, encountering Captain Gale almost at 
 the threshold. Mr. Huron raised his cane as if to strike. 
 It was a custom, nay, almost a pastime, of his, to put out 
 his cane, tap a man on the shoulder, and accompany the 
 action with words of sarcasm or direct insult, as the sub 
 ject, to him, would seem to justify. Captain Gale caught 
 the cane and wrenched it from his grasp. The aggressor, 
 disarmed, used his tongue. Captain Gale turned to Mr. 
 Nutt and made some droll remark about Mr. Huron being 
 crazy. Oswald Huron glared at him, but the captain 
 walked serenely away, taking opportunity, however, to turn 
 to his foe and observe, while he held up the wrested cane, 
 
 " You had better prefer charges against me for highway 
 robbery." 
 
 As it often falls out, or in, soon after Captain Gale bore 
 off the cane, Lawyer May entered the store to make some 
 purchases. Oswald Huron, with so little hesitation that 
 it appeared ridiculous, confronted him and said, 
 
 " You are a scoundrel, sir."
 
 32 TEKEL, 
 
 "Your epithet is actionable," said Lawyer May, who 
 was a tall, slender, elegant-looking man. 
 
 " Act upon it, then," replied Oswald Huron, with a 
 haughty, ferocious look. 
 
 " Mr. Huron," observed the lawyer, calmly, " you will 
 do me a pleasure, and (if that is no consideration) your 
 self a service possibly, by never addressing me again." 
 
 " Do you presume to threaten me, sir ?" was the fierce 
 demand, accompanied by a vehement gesture and a step 
 forward. 
 
 Mr. May turned upon his heel, walked back to the rear 
 of the store, took a drink of water, sat down under the 
 clock, drew out a memorandum-book, and cast his eyes 
 over the list of articles which he desired to purchase. Os 
 wald Huron strode out and went home, after having left 
 an order for some family comforts. 
 
 CHAPTER IV. 
 
 SITTING upon the portico of the cottage at Gale Island 
 and looking with a spy-glass toward the north, that is to 
 say, up the Larboard Strand, an observer might have seen, 
 very distinctly, Amy Turnboltand Maria Guthrie perched 
 upon what was called the Tarpeian Rock. This rock was 
 a large detachment of an overhanging crag. It had fallen 
 upon the strand from above, and formed a kind of objective 
 rendezvous for the eyes and steps of idlers and pleasure- 
 walkers. 
 
 From numerous tosses of the head, mingled with other 
 peculiarly feminine gesticulations, a lively dialogue ap 
 peared to be in progress between these whilom nurses. 
 
 As the dialogue continued, the gestures all at once sub 
 sided, and the two women evidently began to talk in earnest. 
 It may not be amiss to intrude upon them, and learn if pos 
 sible what it can be that is magical enough to reduce the 
 rattle-tattle of two gossiping females to a sober, earnest 
 conversation.
 
 OR CORA GLENCOE. . 33 
 
 "But you intend to leave here, and of course you don't 
 care," continued Amy with some bitterness. 
 
 "I'm going to leave here? Yes, I am, because I've got 
 no livelihood here, and I must go where I can make my 
 livelihood. But do you think I'd go off and let it be as it 
 is, and leave that hateful Oswald Huron to father the child, 
 and get gratification from it, and it not his, and Mr. Neville 
 Huron such a gentleman, and his wife such a lady, what 
 little I saw of them ? If I had no other conscience about 
 me I'd at least fix up to bring out the fact-justice of it, just 
 to spite and bite Oswald Huron. I wasn't his help, but 
 his wife's, which he worreted to her death, and I wouldn't 
 a' staid with him a minute after she died only for the sakes 
 of the baby and its dead mother." 
 
 With a look of mingled apprehension and reproach, Amy 
 asked, 
 
 "And who's to stay and meet him with his Satan tem 
 per and his wizzard doings ? I am innocent, and have 
 helped you out of this, and I won't let you put it off on to 
 me," and Amy burst out crying. 
 
 "Wizzard scratch!" emphatically and contemptuously 
 replied Mrs. Guthrie. " He's no more of a neckermancer 
 than your granny. If he is a wizzard and neckermancer, 
 why couldn't he tell his own child from his brother's? and 
 why can't he tell what's wrong now?" 
 
 This seemed to impress Amy and encourage some hope 
 within her. Mrs. Guthrie continued, 
 
 "But I don't intend to leave you in his claws. Any 
 body that sticks to me as you did through frightenings and 
 writs and lawyers and courts, will find that Marie Guthrie, 
 poor slaving woman as she is, is not going to run off 
 and leave her friend in desertion. I'm going to Lawyer 
 May, who is a gentleman, whatever other lawyers be, and 
 tell him the truth. the truth, mind you, Amy, and get 
 him to put it into some writ form of suppeeny or affidavit or 
 whatever it is, and leave it with him, and so condition him 
 that nobody is to hear a breath of it till I get out of reach. 
 That will throw the blame on to me, where it belongs, and 
 my going off will confirm it on to me. When I am gone, 
 you go to your uncle Gale and get him to make a writ form 
 from your word o' mouth, and tell him to see Lawyer May,
 
 34 TEKEL, 
 
 and fix it up amongst them the best way they can. That 
 will pacify everything with you entirely; and Captain Gale 
 is man enough for Oswald Huron any day, and he don't 
 owe Oswald Huron money or favor, nor Lawyer May don't 
 owe him money or favor, and Maria Guthrie don't owe 
 him money or favor, and when I get away from Ores- 
 wood to my friends down in Maryland, amongst the old 
 Irish stock, I can give my defiance to neckermancer 
 Huron and the devil's den of him. When I first con- 
 trappe'd this thing, on the very spot where I took and held 
 you, I didn't mean it to staijd any longer than I could 
 leave here. Supposen I had gone and told that toma- 
 hawker that it was his child that was dead; he'd have 
 blowed my brains out or cut me down to the teeth with a 
 hatchet. Supposen I'd run off entirely, and you had run 
 off, as you was a doing ; what sort of a fix would we have 
 been in, with Oswald Huron and the law officers after us 
 for murder, and nobody left even to take the live child 
 home ? Maria Guthrie's no fool, and what she tells you, 
 Amy Turnbolt, you go and do likewise." 
 
 Amy yielded, being almost convinced and wholly con 
 strained. 
 
 A few days after the above conversation, Maria Guthrie 
 presented herself to Lawyer May, and abruptly entered 
 upon the business which brought her into the lawyer's 
 office. 
 
 " Lawyer May," said she, " I come to tell you something, 
 but before I do it, I want you to swear to me on your Bible 
 that you won't give breath to it before this day a month 
 ahead." 
 
 "Can't you trust my discretion?" asked the lawyer. 
 
 "No discretion about it," replied Maria Guthrie; " and 
 if there is, it's my own discretion entirely to tell you or not." 
 
 "Very well," said Mr. May, appreciating that it would be 
 more satisfactory to know the secret and keep it than to be 
 compelled to keep it by reason of not knowing it. 
 
 Mrs. Guthrie proceeded to administer to Mr. May an 
 oath as binding, mixed, and particular as the so-called iron 
 clad oath of the present day, during which performance the 
 lawyer could with difficulty preserve his gravity. 
 
 "I wish you to put what I've got to say into a writ
 
 OR CORA OLENCOE. 35 
 
 form," said Mrs. Guthrie, satisfied that the oath for the 
 special clinching of which she had brought along an old 
 Bible would most undoubtedly stick. 
 
 "You wish to make an affidavit or a deposition?" sug 
 gested Mr. May. 
 
 "Yes, sir." 
 
 " It will be necessary then to go before some magistrate, 
 or officer with a seal." 
 
 "No officer, or magistrate, or seal shall have the first 
 word of it under Bible oath. I want you to make it up 
 yourself." 
 
 " I am not competent," said the lawyer. 
 
 "Not competent? I thought you was the smartest and 
 bookiest man in Creswood." 
 
 "I mean that I am not authorized." 
 
 "Well; if lawyers aint authorized, who are?" 
 
 " Tell me what you wish to make known, and what 
 you desire to accomplish. I can then determine upon the 
 proper method." 
 
 "No, sir. If there are so many quirks and turns about 
 it, I'll be a little cranky myself. I'll ask some explanations." 
 
 " I am willing to explain, but am not in a very eligible 
 position to do so, and it's your affair, not mine." 
 
 " I know it's my affair, and I want to keep it my affair 
 for a month to come ; but I want to put it down in witness 
 now, with nobody any the wiser but yourself." 
 
 " I appreciate your confidence," said Lawyer May with a 
 slight bow. "What you are qualified, under the circum 
 stances, to do, is to make an affidavit. A deposition re 
 quires due notice to opposite parties, if there are any, and 
 is usually attended, at least sometimes, by a cross-exami 
 nation of the deponent at the time the deposition is taken." 
 
 " Can't I tell you," categorically asked Mrs. Guthrie, 
 " and get you to write down facts and figures of dates, 
 which will be witness at law in a case of suit?" 
 
 To this ingenious and staccato question the lawyer re 
 plied, 
 
 " I can put into an affidavit anything which you may 
 wish to state, you can sign it, and swear to it before a 
 magistrate, not before me, and the magistrate need not 
 know what the affidavit contains ; but as to its being, as you
 
 36 TEKEL, 
 
 say, witness at law in case of suit, it will only be ex-parte 
 testimony." 
 
 Mrs. Guthrie was flattered by the fact that lawyer May 
 had quoted her own words, which she doubted not were 
 the best that could be used in that particular connection, 
 and was encouraged to venture yet more daringly. 
 
 " But will the x-party testimony to be good in the prem 
 ises of litigation?" 
 
 "It has a certain standing," replied the lawyer, com 
 pelled to smile, "and if other testimony, from a witness pres 
 ent, or witnesses present, in court, corroborating, that is, 
 agreeing with it, is at hand, then the affidavit is that much 
 the better. But alone it is not of much force." 
 
 Mrs. Guthrie reflected that Amy Turnbolt could supply 
 the personal word o' mouth testimony, and consequently 
 determined, after this brilliant and eminently satisfactory 
 skirmishing, to tell what she knew. 
 
 The reader is almost aware of that which Mrs. Guthrie 
 desired to have put into a " writ form." 
 
 " I come, Mr. May," said she, " to tell you, under my 
 oath, that the baby which fell over the crag and was killed, 
 was Oswald Huron's baby, and the baby alive and at Cliff 
 Hall now, is Mr. Neville Huron's own child." 
 
 We will not stop to describe the surprise of Lawyer May. 
 Although he was convinced that a secret of some sort was 
 between the nurses, and connected, moreover, with the de 
 ceased infant, he was not prepared for so important a reve 
 lation as that just made to him. He requested Mrs. Guth 
 rie to proceed. 
 
 " There is little more to tell you that you don't already 
 know," said she. " Amy and me walked out with the 
 children in our arms, and took a seat on a big flat rock 
 which I used to sit on by myself with the baby I nursed 
 before Amy come to Cliff Hall, which is the same baby 
 as is now dead, and when we went to get up, the rock 
 tilted over with both our weights. Amy caught by a 
 bush and saved herself and the baby she was nursing." 
 
 " It was she, then, instead of you, as you once told me ?" 
 
 " Yes ; but now I am telling you the truth. Amy saved 
 herself and Mr. Neville Huron's baby, which she was nurs 
 ing, and it was me that was falling down that dreadful
 
 OR CORA GLENCOE. 37 
 
 place, and had to let go Mr. Oswald Huron's baby to save 
 my own life, and it fell and was killed, and we couldn't 
 bring it away because we couldn't get down there to it. 
 But at first Amy started to run with her baby, and I caught 
 her and took and held her, and begged and worked and 
 frighted her into doing what I contrapted for us to do 
 about the babies ; which we could easy do, because Oswald 
 Huron didn't know his own child from his brother's, and 
 he had driv off his old servants, or more belike they had 
 left him, and he had bought him some niggers which were 
 afraid to come in the house, and nobody knowed the babies 
 apart but the nurses, and you wouldn't have knowed them 
 apart yourself, because they was so resembling, and such 
 young babies, which many folks can't tell one from an 
 other nohow when they are so young, and dressed just 
 alike, as these were, and their names were identical alike 
 in the bargain, and they had lockets around their necks, 
 and the lockets was one and the same." 
 
 " Could you and the other nurse absolutely and always 
 distinguish them yourselves?" 
 
 " I could distinguish them, because Mrs. Oswald Huron 
 was my mistress, and the child was born almost into my 
 hands, and my poor mistress died of it, and I raised the 
 baby, and knowed it as I would my own, except that I 
 never had one, for Mr. Guthrie died the very night we 
 was married, poor man." 
 
 " That was sudden indeed," said Lawyer May, who, as 
 business was not pressing, felt willing to gratify Mrs. 
 Guthrie's spirit of loquacity. " What could possibly have 
 put an end to his life at so happy a moment ?" 
 
 " He died of a broken back," said Mrs. Guthrie, with an 
 expression of countenance well calculated to excite sym 
 pathy. 
 
 " A broken back ! And on the very night of his wed 
 ding ? How did that happen ?" 
 
 " The lads had sprung a Christmas-tree, for it was a 
 Christmas-night, and they sprung it out in the yard, and, 
 after the maiden name had been taken from me by the so 
 lemnity of the ceremony, we went into the yard, and the 
 tree fell down, and Mr. Guthrie w r as under it, and his back 
 was broke." 
 
 4
 
 38 . TEKEL, 
 
 " That was very sad indeed," said Mr. May, who, by- 
 the-way, was a widower with one little boy ; " but we must 
 now return to the business in hand. Could Amy Turn- 
 bolt distinguish the children with certainty ?" 
 
 " Not till she had been nursing for two or three days. 
 But she soon learned her baby, for it was the sweetest and 
 the least of trouble." 
 
 " What were the distinguishing marks, the difference, 
 between them." 
 
 "They was not marked at all; but Neville Huron's baby 
 had the superiority somewhat over the other one, and its 
 eyes were a little darker, and its hair was the least bit 
 given to curl, and it was the brightest and the lovingest, 
 and we called it Coy, and we called the other one Glenny." 
 
 " What were the names of the infants? If I ever knew 
 I've forgotten." 
 
 " The living and the dead was both named Cora Glen- 
 coe." 
 
 " Cora Glencoe Huron," said the lawyer, taking down the 
 name on a slip of paper. " What was your purpose in 
 deceiving the Hurons ?" 
 
 " It wasn't that I wanted to deceive them, specially Mr. 
 Neville Huron, but he was away, and Mr. Oswald Huron 
 was the one I had to meet, and he'd a' cut my throat if I 
 had gone and told him that Glenny, his own child, had 
 met its death by me, which he came near to doing anyhow 
 when I took and told him that it was his brother's baby as 
 was dead. But I didn't never mean for it to stand this 
 way no longer than I could make interest with my people 
 in the oif districts of this State where I am going to make 
 my livelihood, and I come to you to set it all to rights be 
 fore I go.; and if Oswald Huron or his officers or his hounds 
 comes after me, my folks are not the particularest in the 
 world, and they will send him and his back to Creswood 
 with the splinters of shillaly in the jowls of them. And 
 I've told Amy Turnbolt to make the affidavit of the same 
 before her uncle, Captain Gale, and you and him can legal 
 ize the child's pedigree and 'heritance of its father and 
 mother. And this is the truth, under oath, so help me 
 God, and on the cross." 
 
 " Mrs. Guthrie," said the lawyer, when that prolix de-
 
 OR CORA GLENCOE, 39 
 
 ponent had finished what she mainly had to say, " ran I 
 not prevail upon you to make this affidavit within the 
 knowledge of some other person chosen by you ?" 
 
 "No, sir." 
 
 " But you don't see the difficulty. Oswald Huron is 
 my enemy. He imagines that I would do anything with 
 in my power to injure or annoy him. Others may ima 
 gine the same. I defended you in connection with these 
 infants. I must now undertake to undo, in part, what I 
 have heretofore done. I must contradict myself, and not 
 withstanding I am willing to submit to the chagrin in 
 order to correct this vital wrong, it will put the case, in 
 my hands, at a very great disadvantage. Oswald Huron 
 will take the ground that I am his enemy, and that you 
 are his enemy, and that for vindictive purposes we have 
 concocted a scheme to rob him of his child. The ground 
 will be plausible both before the people and the court to 
 which he will appeal, for Heaven knows he has given us 
 both cause for enmity. Could you not go before Mr. 
 Hope, the minister, and a most excellent man ?" 
 
 " No, sir. I am a Catholic, and he would not believe me 
 for a word." 
 
 " I am satisfied you are mistaken," said Mr. May. 
 
 " There is but one other man alive that I will give tes 
 timony to." 
 
 " Who is he ?" 
 
 " Captain Gale, who is a man of his word and bond." 
 
 " That is very unfortunate," observed Lawyer May. 
 " Captain Gale's disabilities in this particular are similar 
 to my own." 
 
 " And my disabilities are much more similar," said Mrs. 
 Guthrie; "for if Oswald Huron had his choice, of all the 
 heads in Creswood he would break mine first. So I must 
 look out for myself as well as right the wrong, for who is 
 to look for me ? I give you my affidavit, and it's riot likely 
 I'd swear myself into this if the truth was not in it, and 
 my conscience not in it. Then I go away for good rea 
 sons as witnessed in the affidavit. Then there's Amy 
 Turnbolt. She can stanchify the witnessing of my affida 
 vit, and of her own, and give her own word o' mouth wit 
 nessing, herself, if the fact-justice is ever brought into the
 
 40 TEKEL, 
 
 appeal of a court, which it will be, because that hyena of 
 a Oswald Huron would claim even a skunk kitten as his 
 own, and battle with the old skunk for it, if he took a 
 notion to, durn him !" 
 
 The last two words of Mrs. Guthrie were spoken in a 
 low, emphatic tone, and to herself. 
 
 The lawyer drew up an affidavit, not qualified by the 
 clause, " to the best of my knowledge and belief," but di 
 rect and positive. He appended the customary certificate 
 of an officiating magistrate, and, with Mrs. Guthrie, pro 
 ceeded to 'Squire Shaw's, the nearest authority. On their 
 way, Mrs. Guthrie somewhat cattishly said, 
 
 " If 'Squire Shaw goes to reading of it, I'll jerk it away 
 from him and tear it up." 
 
 " In all probability he will not care to read it, and in any 
 event I shall see that he does not. He has nothing to do 
 but administer the oath, see you sign, and sign himself." 
 
 Mrs. Guthrie, having succeeded to her satisfaction in 
 getting her secret into a " writ form," left Creswood and 
 went among her friends and relatives in a settlement many 
 miles distant from her late home. 
 
 When the Whitecap again rode in the little bay at the 
 rear of Gale Island, Amy Turnbolt did pretty much as 
 Mrs. Guthrie had done, and Captain Gale followed pretty 
 well the example of Lawyer May. In everything which 
 appertained to the law and its administration Captain 
 Gale was methodical and exact, and the document which 
 he drew up from Amy Turnbolt's word o' mouth, setting 
 forth the " fact-justice" of the Huron family complications, 
 was in all respects the compeer of that which was in pos 
 session of Lawyer May. 
 
 Although these affidavits were not first-class testimony, 
 they were better than nothing in the event of an accident, 
 such as the death or disappearance of one or both of the 
 affiants. In those days, communication was by no means 
 advanced to its present activity and universality, and a 
 person might easily step aside and never be heard of more. 
 
 "Amy," said Captain Gale, "I am surprised that you 
 have been able to keep this matter so absolutely to your 
 self. You did wrong to practice deception in the first place, 
 but, having done so, you were wise not to gad it about.
 
 OR CORA GLENCOE. 41 
 
 Now that Maria Guthrie has gone, you will never rest 
 until you make a confidant of some other woman. There 
 fore you bad better tell Sallie all about it, and whenever 
 you feel like talking it over, you can do so with her to your 
 heart's content. But if, by your indiscretion, this secret 
 gets wind before the proper time, it will be the worse for 
 you, I can assure you." 
 
 Captain Gale proved himself a good womanier, by at 
 once providing Amy with a confidant, and adding fear to 
 discretion as a more potent motive for secrecy. 
 
 Although Lawyer May and Captain Gale were devoted 
 to that justice, order, and legitimacy which are so comely 
 in the sight of good men, they were constrained to hold 
 their peace for the present, notwithstanding it involved a 
 vital and accomplished fraud upon the Huron parents and 
 the infant Cora Glencoe. Oswald Huron himself, by his 
 inveteracy and malignancy, put it out of their power to 
 correct the false state of his family relations. He had de 
 clared war, and waged it, and was yet waging it, upon the 
 lawyer, the mariner, and upon each of the nurses severally; 
 and when his animosity was fixed it was more savage and 
 tenacious than the teeth of a bull-dog. Of what avail, then, 
 would it be for them, or either of them, to attempt to con 
 vince him that the infant now in his possession was the off 
 spring of his brother? He would deride the evidence, and 
 spit in the faces of his enemies. He would declare it a vin 
 dictive conspiracy to rob him of his child. He would prose 
 cute them one and all, wherever he could reach them, with 
 more than his accustomed vehemence. Also, it would 
 create a most lamentable condition of uncertainty in the 
 family of Neville Huron ; it would lead to a wretched 
 wrangling between the Huron brothers ; and, in the popu 
 lar eye, disinherit the child for life of an indisputable and 
 absolute lineage. 
 
 Lawyer May and Captain Gale appreciated the difficulties 
 and perplexities which would accompany an effort to do 
 the duty which had been delegated to them, or, more prop 
 erly, thrust upon them. They consulted each other, as 
 men and women will do, knowing in advance that an inter 
 change of views would amount to no more than an ex 
 change of words. Lawyer May said to Captain Gale, 
 
 4*
 
 42 TEKEL; 
 
 "At the present time, an attempt would be futile. Be 
 fore this community we have stood in behalf of these 
 nurses, and brought them successfully out of a disagreeable 
 and bitterly-conducted investigation, the inside merits of 
 which we were unquestionably presumed to be fully ad 
 vised of. Popularly, this matter is considered judicially and 
 thoroughly sifted, and done with for all time. We so 
 considered it ourselves. And now, of all men in the world, 
 for you and myself to disentomb this calamity and cause it 
 to resurrect* with a different face and habiliments, for you 
 and myself to attempt to prove by the very nurses them 
 selves an apparently new-hatched* state of 'fact-justice,' 
 to quote from Mrs. Guthrie, and, by-the-way, it's not a bad 
 expression," said the lawyer, smiling, "would be no whit 
 short of absolutely ridiculous, as well as, prima facie, a 
 crime, a concocted crime. I should be set down for a knave, 
 and you for a fool, or vice versa, and we should meet with 
 no greater success than the hootings of an indignant or 
 jocose community might signify." 
 
 Lawyer May closed his last sentence with a smile as 
 jocose as might have been the community under the cir 
 cumstances referred to. Captain Gale observed, 
 
 "An attempt now would make reasonable any charges 
 which Oswald Huron might shrewdly bring against us." 
 
 "Any which he would undoubtedly bring," interrupted 
 the lawyer, not, as is the professional custom, refraining 
 from a positive and unqualified assertion which is based 
 upon opinion merely. 
 
 "And," continued Captain Gale, "however stubbornly 
 we might hurl the truth into people's ears, just so stub 
 bornly would they spew it out of their mouths." 
 
 "I readily recognized the exceptional difficulties, not 
 only surrounding this case, but imbedded in it, and the 
 more I reflect upon it, the more I am disposed to think that 
 ingenuity itself could not have contrived a more unfortu 
 nate and unhandy situation. Perhaps you can suggest 
 something feasible ? I myself have nothing to propose 
 just now except to watch and wait." 
 
 " It's a dark watch, let the outlook be from bow or stern," 
 
 * Not to be found in Webster.
 
 OR CORA OLENCOE. 43 
 
 said Captain Gale, renewing his quid of tobacco. " One 
 thing- is evident: we are becalmed, and there's no help for 
 it but to bring on a storm, which can only result in a furi 
 ous collision fore and aft, weather and lee, and probable 
 shipwreck to the future of the infant." 
 
 " I'm told it's a very sweet little thing," said Lawyer 
 May ; " and if it should so happen that Oswald Huron shall 
 be it's lifelong father, it will be one of those inscrutable 
 Providences which make men reject the idea of divine su 
 pervision. If it were Oswald Huron's child which had got 
 mismatched with his brother Neville, I believe I could con 
 scientiously and- forever hold my peace." 
 
 " I can hardly use such strong language as that," said 
 the law-and-order captain ; "though the child's future pros 
 pects would certainly forbid an interposition if the case was 
 reversed. It's a pity you could not prevail upon Mrs. Guth- 
 rie to go to Mr. Hope. Amy might go to him, or to any 
 body, and make an open question of it, but it would rebound 
 upon me in the end, as the instigator, and do the cause no 
 good ; whereas Mrs. Guthrie was not, and is not, supposed 
 to be at the command or instance of any particular person." 
 
 "And the trouble is, there are no visible prospects for a 
 change. This matter, I'm afraid, will vex us for a long time, 
 like an impatient and knotty problem on our files of unfin 
 ished business ;" and the lawyer took a pinch of snuff. 
 
 "Unless some person, less patient with Oswald Huron 
 than you or I, should blow out his brains," suggested the 
 captain. 
 
 " He does not fail to afford opportunities for such a sequel, 
 and he little knows how near to doom he has ventured at 
 more times than one ;" and the lawyer's face grew stern 
 with the memory of repeated insults. "But, Gale," he 
 smilingly continued, "you are a strongman in this commu 
 nity. I was, until the public insults of Oswald Huron, and 
 my quiet submission to them, robbed me of my character 
 as a person of backbone. I may, however, take occasion 
 to resume my lumbar vertebrae, and if we only keep our 
 selves on strict watch, we may find an opportunity yet of 
 breaking the force of circumstances." 
 
 " The man's own colossal unpopularity would aid us," 
 said Captain Gale ; " but the deil of it is that everybody 
 seems to fear him as well as hate him."
 
 44 TEKEL, 
 
 From several observations, similar to the one just made, 
 Lawyer May felt faintly that Captain Gale connected him 
 with those who feared Oswald Huron, and was delicately 
 hinting that it was time for him to assert his manhood. 
 Although nothing was further from Captain Gale's 
 thoughts, it nevertheless had its effect upon the lawyer. 
 
 After conversing awhile upon wind and weather, politics 
 and policy, the two gentlemen shook hands cordially, and 
 Captain Gale went his way. 
 
 CHAPTER Y. 
 
 MOST able lawyers are men of courage and fortitude. 
 They are also, by the nature of their profession, educated 
 to great self-control. Much reciprocal tongue-lashing su 
 perinduces in their behalf thick skins and short memories. 
 They are not apt at taking offense for slight causes, but, 
 with keen repartee, launch from the mouth instead of the 
 shoulder or the pistol tube. They have too many quar 
 rels to make, and battles to fight, for others, and for which 
 espousals they are well paid, to allow of either inclination 
 or leisure for getting into non-paying quarrels of their own. 
 Physical arbitrament they regard as unintellectual, and 
 broken heads and lodged bullets as not the proper mode. 
 But, as we once heard of a very worthy parson, who, in 
 the midst of a discourse suggested by the words of the 
 Divine Herald, " Peace on earth and good will to men," 
 left his pulpit, went down into his congregation, and 
 trounced a disturbing element there : so we occasionally 
 hear of a lawyer and counselor who abandons his neigh 
 bor's feud to settle one of his own ; postponing, perhaps, 
 the prosecution of a manslayer to go out and slay a man 
 himself, or get slain. 
 
 Lawyer May was an able lawyer. He was also a man 
 of courage and great self-restraint. Oswald Huron, im 
 placable, and growing more aggressive as he grew older, 
 had recently insulted Lawyer May frequently ; in fact,
 
 OR CORA OLENCOE. 45 
 
 about as often as he met him. Mr. May had no family 
 except a little son six years of age. Once a wealthy man, 
 he had just emerged from innumerable financial difficul 
 ties, the result of faults not his own, with little else save 
 his honor. Had it not been for the wish to retrieve his 
 fortunes, chiefly for the sake of his little boy, a child of 
 promising intelligence and future, he would have risked a 
 personal and extreme issue with Oswald Huron before the 
 insults of the latter had been so many times repeated. He 
 knew that the community did not appreciate the influence 
 which caused him to avoid a difficulty with this intemper 
 ate man, and one which, should it occur, would be a deadly 
 one ; and he was acutely sensible of a diminution of re 
 spect for himself among his neighbors, who were well 
 aware that Oswald Huron almost spat in his face when 
 ever it was convenient. The question would often force 
 itself upon his attention, whether it was better to take the 
 risk of leaving his boy unprotected and unprovided for, or 
 to forego the risk and continue to live in disgrace with his 
 neighbors, with himself, and probably with his own child, 
 who was a spirited little fellow. He had not been able to 
 decide until events decided for him. One pleasant after 
 noon he was walking on the Larboard Strand, accom 
 panied by his boy, whose name was Carroll. Turning an 
 angle of the Tarpeian Rock he suddenly encountered 
 Oswald Huron. The latter halted and stood in the imme 
 diate pathway of Lawyer May. Oswald Huron was a tall, 
 muscular, dark-eyed, olive-faced man, slightly stoop-shoul 
 dered, and with long black hair which swept his shoulders. 
 His beard was flowing and black, and concealed his white 
 shirt-bosom. His countenance was highly intellectual, 
 and, when at rest, was not unhandsome, but the least 
 activity of his strange volcanic soul perverted it from its 
 normal fine stamp and expression. 
 
 He sneered at Lawyer May, who stood and regarded him 
 calmly, though with feelings akin to those which one might 
 feel on meeting some uncertain beast or more uncertain 
 lunatic. He then addressed some offensive language to 
 the lawyer. The latter, still calm, replied, 
 
 " Mr. Huron, your conduct toward me has been, and 
 is, very strange and entirely unprovoked, and I fail to con-
 
 46 TEKEL, 
 
 ceive in what respect it can gratify you. Let me again 
 beseech you never to address me." 
 
 Oswald Huron, who had provided himself with another 
 cane in the stead of that which Captain Gale had taken 
 away from him at the store of Mr. Nutt, raised his stick, 
 leant forward, and struck Lawyer May a light blow upon 
 the shoulder. Then, still leaning forward, his countenance, 
 working between a grin and a frown, expressed a devilish 
 challenge, as to say, 
 
 " Resent it if you dare." 
 
 Little Carroll May, for the first time and with indig 
 nant wonder, saw his father insulted. He picked up a 
 pebble, and, throwing it, struck Oswald Huron in the eye. 
 The missile, though small and light, caused for the moment 
 a distracting pain, which gave Lawyer May an opportu 
 nity of taking his son by the hand and walking away. 
 
 "Father," asked the child, still wondering, " why didn't 
 you whip him ?" 
 
 "Hush, Carroll," said the father, whose soul writhed be 
 neath the wondering eyes of his boy as it had never done 
 before the slights of his neighbors or the insults of his foe. 
 He must banish that look of wonder, lest it should change 
 to one of contempt, or he must die upon the effort. 
 
 Lawyer May, with livid cheek, walked slowly down 
 toward Gale Island. Said he to himself, " Dueling is a 
 practice which, heretofore, I have neither condemned nor 
 justified; or, in other words, which I have condemned or 
 justified, according to the features of each particular of that 
 practice. As a common resort it is heartless, lamentable, 
 or farcical, and should be discouraged by public sentiment, 
 as it is by legislative penalty. And yet law-giving nations 
 themselves resort to it. On a point of honor Troy fell, 
 and Greece depleted her strength. Hector slew thousands, 
 Achilles slew Hector, and Paris slew Achilles. Romulus 
 killed Remus for dishonoring his walls, and Cicero preached 
 'delenda est Carthago 1 continually, for the honor of Rome. 
 Christians wage war to uphold the Prince of Peace, and 
 the Saracen carves 'Mohammed' upon the shaft of his lance. 
 Nations are insulted, exchange notes, become irreconcila 
 ble, rouse their sluggish, ponderous hearts, and rush to 
 battle. International obligations are sent upon the wind,
 
 OR CORA GLEN CO E. 47 
 
 ditches receive the slain, brooks and rivers bear off the 
 blood, the fate of brave thousands is settled, but the point 
 of honor is still a festering thorn. In the face of such 
 mighty examples, can an individual disdain to feel when 
 an acute point pricks him ? Can an individual man, more 
 full of heart and heat proportionably than is a nation, re 
 frain from breaking the laws of law-breaking legislators? 
 Can a Gentile be better than a Jew, or a Pagan more hum 
 ble than a Christian? Can he who acknowledges weak 
 ness be more stanch than he who professes strength? 
 Can men fail to revolt when nations plunge headlong into 
 revolution ? Laws are not presumed to be for glory or for 
 farce, but for protection and redress. But there are some 
 peculiar instances of wrong for which the laws are as the 
 lame, the halt, and the blind. The philosophy of motion 
 would probably be as easy to practice as to theorize but 
 for the resistance of the atmosphere and the impediment of 
 friction. So is it with statutes, which operate in a dense 
 atmosphere of human passions, and encounter a gumlike 
 friction of ignorance or corruption. The sly or vindictive 
 encroachments of a respectable villain upon the purity of a 
 woman's name or the standing of a man's character, are 
 among that class of subtle wrongs with which the law is 
 too clumsy to grapple ; and the injured will be injured still, 
 unless the individual arm is bared for redress. Oswald 
 Huron does not wound my body ; for if he did, I could 
 shoot him within the law. But he does lacerate my spirit, 
 which is as much more sensitive than the body, as it is 
 more ethereal. And yet I can neither bind him to desist, 
 nor redress myself, unless I break the laws of lumberheaded 
 legislators. I might sue him; he would pay the insignifi 
 cant fine out of his large means, and taunt me even while 
 paying it. ]f he should knock me down, or cut or shoot 
 my flesh, I alone would feel the pain. But he puts a lep 
 rosy upon me, the leprosy of disgrace and dishonor, which 
 does not confine itself to me alone, but spreads through all 
 the ramifications of kinship, and descends to my boy, carry 
 ing its venom. He has even now brought me into wonder 
 and disrepute with my own child. I am not physically 
 able to break his head, or cane him into the proprieties of 
 life. But there is a leveler that I know of which, at
 
 48 TEKEL, 
 
 twenty paces or less, overcomes the inequalities of physical 
 strength and malignancy of spirit, and as often as not gives 
 the battle to the weak." 
 
 Thus continued Lawyer May to think, not with his 
 wonted consecutiveness, for he felt outraged and stern, and 
 barely succeeded in smothering his agitation before he 
 hailed for the ferry-skiff at Gale Island. 
 
 Captain Gale sculled over the water and returned to the 
 Whitecap with his visitors. The mariner was fixing about 
 his rigging and preparing to sail the ensuing night, for the 
 wind was in the right quarter to send him out to sea, and 
 the moon promised to be fair and the skies serene. He 
 was about to lead his visitors to the cottage, when Lawyer 
 May observed, 
 
 " Captain Gale, I have but a few moments to remain 
 here, and would prefer seeing you on board," and the law 
 yer made a gesture toward the Whitecap. 
 
 " You are welcome to cabin or cottage," said Captain 
 Gale, who conducted his visitors to the vessel, and offered 
 bunks for seats. 
 
 " You appear to be getting ready for a cruise," observed 
 the lawyer. 
 
 "I -go out to-night," was the response. 
 
 " I am sorry for that. I wanted you to come up to my 
 house for an hour or so." 
 
 Captain Gale was sagacious enough not to take or pre 
 tend to take this as a social invitation. 
 
 " If there is anything of importance," he replied, " or if 
 I can be of any service to you, I will spare the time, Mr. 
 May, and not miss it." 
 
 " It is a thing of importance, and I shall feel deeply 
 obliged to you. To economize your time, I propose we 
 go now, take tea at my house, and proceed without delay 
 to the matter in hand." 
 
 " I'll first advise my wife," said the thoughtful captain ; 
 " but won't you come into the cottage and sit a moment ?" 
 
 "No, captain, I thank you. I will await you here." 
 
 The lawyer's residence was about a mile distant from 
 the island, up the Larboard Strand, situated on a bluff, in 
 view of the ocean, and not very far from Cliff Hall. 
 
 Within a reasonable length of time, and after tea, Law-
 
 OR CORA GLENCOE. 49 
 
 yer May was busily writing in his office, with a very grave 
 though placid face, and Captain Gale was quietly waiting. 
 Having folded several newly written documents, and di 
 rected them, the lawyer turned to Captain Gale and said, 
 
 " Captain Gale, you are one of the few men of my ac 
 quaintance whom I consider thoroughly honest and thor 
 oughly reliable." 
 
 The captain, taken unexpectedly between wind and 
 water, bowed, not without grace, and replied, 
 
 " Mr. May, I am gratified to be able conscientiously to 
 return a compliment which I hope is as near the truth as I 
 believe it to be sincere. No man is reliable unless he is 
 honest, and many a man may be honest and yet not be 
 reliable," added the ethical captain. 
 
 " I agree with you," said the lawyer, " and, without 
 more ado, come to the pith. You are probably aware that 
 Oswald Huron makes a pastime of insulting me. To-day 
 he repeated his insults, without provocation and in a man 
 ner so gross that even my little boy, almost a suckling, 
 attacked him in my defense. Longer to suffer this would 
 be to lose my self-respect, as I have already, in a measure, 
 lost the respect of my neighbors. The quick has been 
 reached, Captain Gale, and without making use of plainer 
 language, you may, and doubtless do, divine what my in 
 tentions are. I will only say that my resolution is fixed, 
 and that it will be useless for you to consume the few mo 
 ments which you have to spare in endeavoring to alter or 
 modify it. I refer to this, not to involve you, but as an in 
 troduction to the request which our past friendship en 
 courages me to make of you. My little boy may be left 
 without protection. If so, may I have your promise that 
 you will send him to the person and place which you see 
 indorsed on this package, and send the package with him ? 
 I have left no will. It is not necessary to make a will, for 
 my estate, as you know, is in its second infancy. Here is 
 another package. It contains the affidavit of Maria Guth- 
 rie relative to that unfortunate exchange of infants. With 
 it I have inclosed a statement of my own. At some more 
 fitting time you may be able to restore the child, Cora 
 Glencoe, to the true parents. These packages I will give
 
 50 TEKEL, 
 
 to you now, if you have decided to favor me by taking 
 charge of them." 
 
 " Jt is a small favor you have asked of me, Mr. May. 
 It shall be willingly done if necessary, which I hope will 
 not be the case. I only regret that the favor, if it may be 
 so termed, is not greater." 
 
 " Captain Gale, I thank you heartily. I will not longer 
 detain you from your vessel, for I know in what manner 
 prudent sailors rate fair weather and fortunate wind. Good- 
 by, and may you never feel what I, for my child's sake, 
 feel at this moment." 
 
 Within two hours of the time at which Captain Gale 
 took his departure from the lawyer's office, Oswald Huron 
 received from Lawyer May an unconditional challenge to 
 mortal combat. It was accepted, and by daylight in the 
 morning the parties, with their seconds, were on their way 
 to the selected ground, which was one among the secluded 
 spots in the depths of Creswood. 
 
 When Captain Gale returned from his interview with 
 the lawyer, to the island, instead of going into his cottage 
 he went aboard of the Whitecap, lighted a lamp, kindled 
 a fire in the little cabin stove, picked up a pipe, sat down, 
 and deliberated while he smoked. Creswood, thought he, 
 once so quiet and uneventful, was getting into notoriety ; 
 and before many hours, he imagined, the neighborhood 
 would be astir and aghast at the terrible news of tragedy, 
 for he was satisfied that deadly issue was near at hand 
 in which an implacable and domineering foe was to be met 
 by aroused and dauntless gentleman, who, against his con 
 science perhaps, was impelled to risk life in order to make 
 life tolerable. 
 
 Captain Gale well enough understood, first the forbear 
 ance, next the irresistible promptings of Mr. May. He 
 sympathized with the gentlemanly and gracious lawyer, 
 regarding him as a man of strict integrity, commendable 
 pride, and strong feeling, who had been unmercifully and 
 wantonly harassed by a neighborhood tyrant. He also 
 sympathized with him as one who had, by fortitude and 
 unrelaxing effort, emerged, penniless it is true, but hopeful, 
 untarnished, and respected, from many and weighty diffi 
 culties, only to be pressed and driven into a yet more seri-
 
 OR CORA OLENCOE. 51 
 
 ous and exceptional position hedged by danger and irre 
 trievable disaster. 
 
 Voluntarily to transgress the law and nullify it, or vol 
 untarily to permit it to be transgressed and nullified, was, 
 in the estimation of Captain Gale, as portentous of ultimate 
 evil to the public weal, as the violation of the sailor's Black 
 Oath was prophetic of doom to the perjured. There are 
 many crimes which, like the far-speaking thunder peal, or 
 the music of the thrilling wind-harp, can neither be written 
 or defined, and in view of which there is, consequently, no 
 statutory provision. No one condemned such crimes more 
 heartily than Captain Gale ; and yet, in a commonwealth 
 point of view, he considered the commission of these un- 
 namable and indefinable transgressions, one and all, as 
 less hurtful than the lightest breach of political standard 
 law. The former was but the plucking of a single fruit 
 bloom ; the latter was a vital hacking at the roots of the 
 tree. The one might puncture an individual; but the 
 other wrenched a bolt from the gates of the public ram 
 parts. 
 
 Captain Gale put away his pipe, took down a tin bugle, 
 stepped out on deck, and blew a blast which rioted among 
 the hills of Creswood in ten thousand echoes. Fifteen 
 minutes passed, when four men, his crew, hailed him from 
 across the bay. With a skiff he brought them over to the 
 Whitecap. 
 
 "Boys, be lively now! stow these packages, and get 
 ready to work her out." 
 
 He then went into the cottage, where, between himself 
 and Mrs. Gale, a consultation ensued. Emerging from his 
 cottage, he walked if possible with a manlier step than 
 usual, saying to himself, 
 
 "There is, after all, no better helm for a man than a 
 stanch Christian wife, and no better lighthouse than the 
 Book. I felt that I was right before I went in yonder," 
 motioning his head toward the cottage, "arid now, by the 
 salt at the bottom of Neptune" 1 's Grog, I know I am right." 
 
 Captain Gale's conviction must have been absolute, or 
 he would never have dared salt water again after taking 
 that oath, which, by-the-way, was his sole superstition. 
 
 "Run her out, boys," commanded the captain, as he
 
 52 TEKEL; 
 
 sprang aboard with an agility which surprised his crew, 
 who, however, were destined quickly to meet with a much 
 greater surprise ; for no sooner had the Whitecap reached 
 open water than Captain Gale shifted his helm, and 
 ordered the vessel in a direction the opposite of the wind 
 and the undoubting anticipations of the crew. The sails 
 swung about, and refilled, and the Whitecap as gracefully 
 and coquettishly wheeled to the piping wind, as a sweet 
 gay girl, under the eye of her lover, wheels to voluptuous 
 music. 
 
 Captain Gale steered for Kaffir-Land. Having run 
 about six knots, he shifted his course, and in a couple of 
 hours from the time he left the island, he anchored against 
 the Maryland bluffs some eight miles south of his home. 
 Taking a small lifeboat, he went ashore, and was lost in 
 the gloom of the rough and wooded coast. He was absent 
 for the space of an hour. When he returned, he trimmed 
 his vessel to run with the wind, and was soon plowing 
 northward upon his original course, from which his first 
 two hours' sail had been a diversion. 
 
 Captain Gale had never found it necessary to resort to 
 violence in order to maintain the respectability of his name. 
 He avoided giving provocation, which was his chiefest 
 shield. If any one sought a quarrel with him, he was so 
 reasonable, and so firm, and so bold withal, that if the dis 
 putant was not disarmed by reason, he was generally halted 
 by the Captain's lion-like aspect and cool gray eye. Oswald 
 Huron nearer than any other man had succeeded in rousing 
 him to the alternative of violence, but the sturdy captain 
 had warded off a climax so at variance with his tastes and 
 practices, and brought himself peaceably away without one 
 whit of his reputation for pluck abated. 
 
 But Captain Gale was a manner of man of which the 
 specimens are rare; and, as the world goes, the great mass 
 of men could not, if they would, follow his wake. As it is 
 very true that no girl ever reached the age of maturity 
 without having received a most provoking oifer of marriage 
 from some quarter, it is equally true that no boy ever at 
 tained his majority without one or more favorable opportu 
 nities for a personal difficulty other than that of matrimony. 
 Nerve and coolness, in which men generally are so deficient,
 
 OR CORA GLENCOE. 53 
 
 are probably more in requisition to prevent a battle than to 
 conduct one. But with nerves of steel and the coolness of 
 ice, it is sometimes literally impossible for a person to avoid 
 a difficulty. He cannot even run away from it. In very 
 nearly such a condition Lawyer May found himself when 
 he sent his challenge to Oswald Huron. Captain Gale had 
 given Oswald Huron equal cause with Lawyer May for 
 hostility and aggression. But it did not occur to the cap 
 tain that himself was a much more formidable looking an 
 tagonist than was Mr. May, and that Oswald Huron en 
 joyed more opportunities of insulting the slender lawyer, 
 than he did the stalwart and itinerant captain of the White- 
 cap. He did not know that Oswald Huron had contem 
 plated following him up, through the convenient medium 
 of the United States mail, with insults deliberately and 
 exquisitely written, and deposited in every post-office along 
 the coast where the captain would be likely to call ; and 
 that he only abandoned the enterprise for the reasons that 
 he could not by that means gore the captain deep enough 
 to draw blood, and that his missives might furnish exten 
 uating evidence in the captain's behalf, should he, by pos 
 sibility, become exasperated and belabor the writer. 
 
 Although Captain Gale entertained a sincere regard, 
 yea, an affection for Lawyer May, and took pride in him 
 as an honorable, able, and prominent man, and sympathized 
 with him as being one of whom care and perplexity had 
 made a veteran, and although he and Lawyer May were 
 in most things well agreed, the time had come, involving 
 the life of two fellow-creatures, the destiny of children, the 
 peace of families, and the dignity of law, in which Captain 
 Gale was urged by his principles and conscience to oppose 
 the practice of his friend, and endeavor to avert a calamity 
 which would sprinkle bitter tears over infant couches, and 
 defy the bond and order of government, and beat with reck 
 less and impious blows upon the gates of Heaven. And yet 
 the fact that Lawyer May had appealed to a lawless code, 
 instead of reducing, rather augmented for him the esteem of 
 the law-sustaining captain of the Whitecap. Is it not possi 
 ble, after all, that the pacific captain was unconsciously more 
 or less actuated by a suspicion, a dread, a well-grounded 
 
 5*
 
 54 TEKEL, 
 
 fear that his friend would meet with foul play ? Who can 
 divine even his own heart to know it? 
 
 It is proper here briefly to assist the imagination of the 
 reader. The two hours' sail of the Whitecap against the 
 wind, was to reach the nearest point on the coast accessi 
 ble to the county sheriff's dwelling. To the sheriff Cap 
 tain Gale anxiously went, and disclosed to him the con 
 templated hostile May-Huron meeting, to prevent which 
 he urged the officer to spare no pains or activity. Having 
 done all that he could possibly do, except to accompany the 
 officer, which was not deemed necessary, he again com 
 mitted himself to wind and wave, trusting that the ready 
 and sagacious officer would forestall the mischief which 
 was in train. 
 
 When Captain Gale turned in for the night, his last 
 thoughts were, " Blessed are the peace-makers ; for they 
 shall be called the children of God." In these words, his 
 wife, back at the cottage, when he had consulted her, had 
 urged him to prevent bloodshed. Hanging about his neck, 
 with tearful eyes and trembling earnestness, she had given 
 him the heartfelt speedwell and good-by of " Blessed are 
 the peace-makers ; for they shall be called the children of 
 God." 
 
 Captain Gale slept sweetly out upon the deep, where 
 the billows rocked him gently, and the south wind bore 
 him onward in a prosperous voyage. 
 
 CHAPTER VI. 
 
 WE have already attempted to divine the motives which 
 prompted Lawyer May to go out into some deadly dell of 
 Creswood, while the light of a fair December day was yet 
 breaking through the gloomy forest. 
 
 What Oswald Huron's motives were our pen cannot 
 conceive, unless they were founded in pure perversity. 
 He had a risk to run as well as his antagonist. He had 
 an eye to match as clear and vigilant as his own ; and a
 
 OR CORA GLENCOE. 55 
 
 hand as steady as his own. And yet he had not hesitated 
 to accept an issue from which could spring no advantage 
 whatever to himself, let it go yea or nay with him. 
 
 As Lawyer May calmly stood hard by where the sec 
 onds were measuring the ground and tossing for positions, 
 a professional, in scanning the lawyer's fine and elegant 
 figure, would probably have been ruffled by no more seri 
 ous reflection than, if the day should go against him, that he 
 would at the very least make a handsome corpse. Although 
 his face was as placid as the sheltered pool, and his pulses 
 strong and deliberate, in his soul he was living out many 
 years during the few short moments of preparation. Os 
 wald Huron stood apart, seemingly impatient that the ac 
 tion should begin, or that it were well over. The spot 
 which had been chosen was buried in the forest's depths, 
 and secure from probability of intrusion. The antago 
 nists were placed by their agents in their respective select 
 positions, and the weapons, being charged with death, 
 were passed to them. The word to fire, followed by 
 the customary count, was given. Two ringing shots 
 succeeded. Oswald Huron took one step backward, but 
 was, in other respects, apparently untouched. Lawyer 
 May fell to his knees ; then drooping to one side, he lay 
 along the ground mortally wounded. The bullet had 
 lodged within his lungs, hopeless of extraction, and making 
 a rent which let in the blood upon his breath and almost 
 suffocated him upon the spot. Oswald Huron had worn 
 a secret breastplate. He was an amateur chemist and as 
 tronomer, at times observing the heavens through a small 
 telescope which he had, and at times and for no visible 
 purpose, working in metals. Hence, together with his sin 
 gular personal appearance, his reputation among the igno 
 rant of being a necromancer. A sheet of copper from his 
 laboratory had been readily improvised for use as a hidden 
 shield. When he reached Cliff Hall a manslayer, he found 
 the plate of copper deeply indented where it had covered 
 his heart. He laughed in savage triumph. 
 
 Lawyer May was taken to his home, sensible of his condi 
 tion, but speechless. When his little boy came in, the child's 
 look of horror and cry of wild dismay, and the quenching 
 emotion pictured in his face, smote upon the father's heart
 
 56 TEKEL, 
 
 infinitely sharper, and deeper, and sorer than all the insults 
 which had urged him to this fatal dernier ressort. How 
 bitter it was to the father now to reflect upon the results 
 of his hazard, and how sweet it would have been to have 
 recalled that hazard, and forever to have eschewed its like ; 
 and to have lived and gone out from the haunts of his 
 enemy, and found a new home, in which he could have 
 reared his son, and taught him the wisdom, unselfishness, 
 and beauty of humility and forbearance. The film of death 
 upon the eye gives clearer vision to the soul, thought the 
 expiring father. It is a question, however, whether he 
 would not have considered his life expended in a well-di 
 rected effort, had he been able to have left his son well pro 
 vided with funds and friends. For this mortal problem of 
 the duello is not altogether like the moon, a one sided affair. 
 It has several sides, like a triangle. But, as a rule, the 
 bitter follows the sweet of it, as quinine taken in honey; 
 and as an exception, the sweet succeeds the bitter, as when 
 chewing the root of the dulcamara, a deadly nightshade, 
 by-the-way. Had Lawyer May killed Oswald Huron and 
 escaped unhurt himself, he would not have lived contented 
 with so perfect a result. His mind would ever have lacked 
 that serenity so pleasing and fair, and so meet for happi 
 ness and contentment. Probably the only condition upon 
 which he could have left the contest with satisfaction, 
 would have been the wounding of his adversary, as a pain 
 ful lesson to him, and with the assurance that he would 
 never have to repeat the lesson. A bloodless battle would 
 have been regarded by him as an abortion. And a recon 
 ciliation, could it have been possible, would only have 
 soothed without satisfying his wrongs; for no man can 
 utterly forgive as Christ forgives. 
 
 Mrs. Gale, as soon as she was advised of the issue, went 
 up to Lawyer May's residence, and ministered to him. 
 Taking little Carroll in her arms, she wept over him 
 passionately. She told Mr. May of the effort which her 
 husband had made to avert this solemn sequel. A smile 
 of gratitude was his reply. Promising to call again in the 
 morning and see to his comfort, she returned home. But 
 in the morning he would have no need of earthly comfort. 
 
 Lawyer May, surrounded by his neighbors, among whom
 
 OR CORA GLENCOE. 5f 
 
 were those who had mistreated by misjudging him, died at 
 nightfall, of suffocation by internal hemorrhage. From the 
 time that he fell, until his death, he had been speechless, 
 as the least exertion to speak flooded his lungs. He had 
 managed to scrawl a note to Captain Gale, requesting him 
 to record, for the future information of his son, wherefore 
 he bad met his death by violence. 
 
 In the face of this tragedy Creswood turned pale. The 
 sheriff had been active to perform his duty, but an Indian 
 jungle is not more pathless and perplexing than were the 
 untrodden holds and morning twilight of the dense forest. 
 The law, both before and after the breach, was foiled of its 
 capture. Lawyer May died without making any commu 
 nication about the manner and cause of his overthrow, 
 other than the simple note which he left for Captain Gale. 
 Oswald Huron was silent. No one knew, or appeared to 
 know, who were the seconds. In a strictly legal sense, 
 there was total ignorance upon the subject; but the moral 
 certainty was coequal with the lack of licit evidence. No 
 one doubted that Oswald Huron killed Lawyer May, but 
 there were many who claimed it to be, not the work of the 
 man, but of the necromancer. Consequently the Necro 
 mancer's notoriety widened and deepened among the sim 
 pletons of Creswood, and not a few old women prophesied. 
 
 The Whitecap again rode at anchor in the little harbor 
 back of the island. The vessel was drawing fewer inches 
 than it had ever claimed since it was launched. Not an arti 
 cle of traffic was aboard, except a package or two for Mr. 
 Nutt, the country merchant. Captain Gale had completely 
 vended his stock to coast merchants and families who were 
 laying in their winter supplies. He dealt almost exclusively 
 in staple goods and groceries. "Jeems River," that is to 
 say, James River tobacco, was his pet. It left no remnants, 
 came solid, stowed solid, sold for solid cash, and always 
 made good ballast; for Captain Gale permitted no bilge- 
 water in his boat to injure his goods. He would say to his 
 crew, "Boys, bilge-water is hefty, and bilge-water is odo 
 riferous, but it's neither ballast nor balsam." Although he 
 had missed his Johnny's "sip ahoy!" when he sailed under 
 the cottage shore, and although the weather was cold and 
 blustering, he walked with a comfortable and dignified bear-
 
 58 TEKEL, 
 
 ing as he approached the door of his island home, for under 
 his arm he carried that storm-baffling life-ballast a well- 
 filled money chest, and in his heart was the buoy of pros 
 perity. Entering his cottage, he found a cheerful fire and 
 all well. He was shocked at the sight of little Carroll May, 
 sitting upon the floor patting the head of Johnny's dog, 
 which immediately sprang up to welcome him. Carroll 
 followed the dog's example, and responded with a mixture 
 of gravity and cheerful childlike frankness to Captain Gale's 
 fatherly greeting. 
 
 "No need to ask how it terminated," said Captain Gale 
 to his wife. 
 
 "The very worst has befallen," answered Mrs. Gale, 
 who, in an undertone, related to her husband all that was 
 generally known or surmised in connection with the death 
 of Lawyer May. Captain Gale gravely shook his head, 
 and sat for some time without speaking. Carroll and 
 Johnny, with the dog, sported on the floor. 
 
 Lawyer May's estate at the time of his death was barely 
 solvent. The house in which he had lived, and the land 
 belonging to it, were pledged, and would pass into other 
 hands. As has been stated, he was once wealthy. He 
 had lost largely by the failure of a deposit bank, and yet 
 more largely as security for insolvent relatives. A few 
 hundred dollars would be all that his son would inherit. 
 This amount was in bank notes, and was inclosed in one 
 of the open packages which he had intrusted to Captain 
 Gale. Creswood was astonished to learn that Lawyer 
 May had been almost penniless, for he had not failed scru 
 pulously to pay* his debts whenever due. 
 
 It now became the duty of Captain Gale to comply with 
 the request of Lawyer May respecting the child. The 
 honest mariner was a just man to the world at large, and 
 a kind-hearted man to those who stood in need either of 
 assistance or protection. A tempest in the bosom of a little 
 child would move his heart of oak more sensibly than the 
 tempests of the deep. He was ignorant whether or not the 
 little boy knew what disposition his father had made of 
 him. 
 
 " Carroll," he asked, " do you know where you are to 
 live?"
 
 OR CORA GLENCOE. 59 
 
 With touching simplicity and confidence the little fellow 
 replied, while he swung upon Captain Gale's knee, 
 
 "I am going to live with you; because father said that 
 you are such a good, brave man." 
 
 Captain Gale looked up at the ceiling. A tear slowly 
 gathered in his eye. He was ashamed of a visitor so 
 strange to his cheek, for he had long felt that the time of life 
 had passed in which he should ever again be called upon 
 to wipe away the casual tear-drop. The roughest usage of 
 the rough world to himself would not have moistened his 
 clear gray eye. But the little boy had artlessly touched 
 his stout heart in a very tender spot, and the rising tear 
 found vent through a passage which was sealed to waters 
 of grief, unless that grief was mingled with sympathy and 
 tenderness. He pulled out his pocket-handkerchief and 
 blew his nose. Glancing towards his wife, he saw that 
 her trembling lids were about to overflow. 
 
 'Let it be so, husband," said Mrs. Gale. 
 
 'I must follow instructions," replied the captain. 
 
 'But maybe you can so arrange it?" 
 
 'Not likely. 'Tis his grandparents that he must go to." 
 
 ' His mother's parents?" 
 
 'Carroll?" said Captain Gale, to the boy, "you and 
 Johnny run into the kitchen and sit by the fire until I call 
 you back." When the boys had gone, he continued : "His 
 maternal grandfather, and bis step-grandmother." 
 
 "Ah, then," said Mrs Gale, "the difficulty is reduced 
 fully two-thirds at one stroke, if it is only a step-grand 
 mother." 
 
 "And necessity may reduce the other third," said the 
 captain. "But, Sallie, before any more is said, are you 
 certain that you want him?" 
 
 " I am. He's a fine boy, and I can't help but love him. 
 Then Johnny needs a companion, and he could not be bet 
 ter suited. They are attached already, and they play and 
 fight and play again, with as much harmony and as little 
 harm as any two brothers." 
 
 "His grandparents are very old, and very poor, and 
 really not able to take care of him," said Captain Gale. 
 "All they have in the world is owing to the former wealth 
 and liberality of Mr. May. I am satisfied that Mr. May
 
 60 TEKEL, 
 
 would have chosen me for his son's guardian, had the estate 
 been sufficient for the support of the little one. But he did 
 not like to put his unprovided son upon the bounty of any 
 body, without some claim of kin justified it." 
 
 "It will be better so, John. If we take the child of our 
 own pleasure and accord, we are more apt to continue sat 
 isfied than if we take him, however willingly, by request." 
 
 "How do you make that out, Sallie?" 
 
 "Vanity and perversity of human nature, I suppose," 
 replied Mrs. Gale, laughing pleasantly. 
 
 " But could you do Carroll affectionate justice in view 
 of our own children?" 
 
 "Why not?" 
 
 "Because every cook thinks her own cake the best." 
 
 " Try me, John. I engage not to fail either in duty or 
 affection." 
 
 " It will not cost us a great deal," said Captain Gale, "and 
 though we are not rich, we can easily afford it. What he 
 eats would not be missed from the table. For the next ten 
 years, thirty dollars per annum will clothe him. His 
 money, which is in my possession, will bring in about that 
 amount at interest. Mr. Hope intends to open a school in 
 which he will educate free of cost, except for books, all who 
 are needy. That is the mercenary, financial summing up 
 of the business, which, though important, is by no means 
 so important as that he should have a home and a mother. 
 It shall be done, Sallie, if these old people will consent. 
 The proposition would have originated with me probably, 
 but as I am so much away, and as the added care will fall 
 chiefly upon you, I do not know that I should have spoken 
 without some encouragement." 
 
 "You are a dear old lion," said Mrs. Gale, with playful 
 affection. 
 
 "And you, let me see, now, what you are; you're a 
 sweet little pussy," retorted the quaint captain, who 
 tapped his wife's cheek, got up, shook himself, took down a 
 pipe, and soon began to puff tobacco-smoke serene. 
 
 Captain Gale wrote to Carroll's grandfather Preston, 
 who lived near the village Fortesque, some eighty odd 
 miles away. In respect to Carroll, the mariner made offers 
 which, whether accepted or not, could not be considered
 
 OR CORA QLENCOE. 61 
 
 otherwise than very kind and favorable. In due course of 
 mail a reply was received. " Old Mr. Preston was, had 
 been, and probably would continue to be, bed-ridden. He 
 was not able to take care of himself, and old Mrs. Preston 
 had to care for him, and the neighbors had to care for her. 
 She was willing to take little Carroll, but how he would 
 get along or thrive there she didn't know. She knew of 
 Captain Gale from the letters of the dead, and from his 
 own good letter, that he was an upright and good brave 
 man, and it would be for Carroll's sake that she and Mr. 
 Preston would accept the generous proposals, and she 
 hoped that God would stretch out His arm, not only over 
 the little orphan, but over his timely and generous friend ; 
 and that Mrs. Gale would be a mother to the little one, 
 and that Carroll when he came to be of stature would 
 repay them for their deeds of care and gifts of affection." 
 
 The old lady had dictated a very proper and feeling letter, 
 and though her amanuensis had misspelt and mispunctu- 
 ated, and made of it an epistle ludicrously misdight, the 
 sense of it was very clear; and Carroll was forthwith num 
 bered among the inhabitants of Gale Island. He soon 
 learned to say "Uncle Gale," and "ma," when addressing 
 or speaking of Captain and Mrs. Gale, and glided into the 
 family and became one of it almost as naturally and ef 
 fectually as if he had traveled into it from a bed of travail. 
 Little Johnny Gale, when he appreciated that Carroll was 
 to be his brother, and stay with him and play with him 
 always, thought himself hand-over-fist in luck. Notwith 
 standing that the boys were devoted to each other, hardly 
 a day passed without a fight or quarrel between them ; and 
 upon occasion Mrs. Gale spanked them both soundly. 
 Carroll was quick to anger and quick to relent. Johnny 
 was good-nature itself, and of an equable temper, but when 
 he did take issue and set his meg, be was about as stubborn 
 as a mule. Whenever Carroll saw Johnny begin to look 
 in the face like a young bull, he knew that it was time to 
 propose something else, as a diversion. Johnny was per 
 fectly willing to be led, but he would not be driven an inch. 
 
 The Reverend St. John Hope, minister at Creswood, 
 proved himself worthy of Mr. Guy Rapid's gracious and 
 graceful gift. Although he was no longer under the eye of 
 
 6
 
 62 TEKEL, 
 
 his benefactor who had moved to Texas, and now that he 
 was comfortable, he did not sit at ease in his study and cut 
 out Sunday work merely, but, exerting himself to merit in 
 the sight of God and man the good fortune which had so 
 seasonably dropped upon him, strove to share its advan 
 tages with his neighbors by making the additional influence 
 and opportunities which it gave him, fruitful of good. He 
 opened a day-school in his dwelling. The children of the 
 poor he instructed free of cost, and faithfully. What it was 
 to be poor and struggling he himself had well known, until 
 the munificence of Mr. Rapid had lifted him out of his pov 
 erty, and secured to him a life of temporal comfort and com 
 petency. For, strange as it may appear, as Mr. Hope's 
 domestic prosperity increased, the liberality of his neighbors 
 and church members increased likewise. There was some 
 distinction, it seemed, in giving to a well-dressed, well-to- 
 do, elegant-looking minister of the gospel ; whereas the 
 pitiable dollar subscribed in pure charity to the threadbare 
 laborer in the vineyard, lost its luster altogether by reason 
 of the recipient's insignificance. Another reason for in 
 creased liberality on the part of his neighbors was shame. 
 Guy Rapid, who was capable, both at heart and in purse, 
 of the noblest acts, and Captain Gale, much more willing at 
 heart than his purse was able, together with a few others, 
 all non-professors, had habitually contributed, independ 
 ently of their wives' good gifts, the greater portion of the 
 means which went to maintain the church and its minister. 
 Mr. Rapid, at the death-bed of his wife, had heard Mr. 
 Hope at prayer. " Surely this is a man of God," thought 
 he, " whose words rise from the depths of his soul, reaching 
 to the Throne ;" and with one stroke of his pen he set the 
 minister free from the niggardly purses of his pastorate, 
 and put them all to shame. 
 
 Besides being a mostexcellentman and effective preacher, 
 Mr. Hope, from being a regular graduate, became a regular 
 student, and his somewhat advanced age found him 
 thoroughly educated and scholarly in the American sense 
 of the terms. He had not married until rather late in life, 
 which was the most reprehensible example, probably, that 
 he had ever given to the world of young bachelors. His 
 family now consisted of a wife, son, and two daughters.
 
 OR CORA GLENCOE. 63 
 
 His wife was much younger than himself His son Gar 
 land was eleven years of age. His daughters, Bell and 
 Hattie, were respectively seven and five. And altogether 
 they were a happy family. His school flourished, and be 
 came a source of convenient though well-earned revenue, 
 which, with the product of his perfect little farm, and a 
 moderate salary from the pulpit, enabled him to live in that 
 respectable and unexceptionable style so appropriate to the 
 devout, earnest, and genuine minister of the gospel. 
 
 As time sped, among his scholars were numbered Car 
 roll May, Johnny and Caddy Gale, and Cora Glencoe 
 Huron, the little girl who was yet astray from her rightful 
 parents. Cora was a marked figure both in and out of 
 school, partly because she possessed a pure and enchanting 
 beauty of person and way, and a face of surpassing sweet 
 ness, and partly for the reason that she was supposed to 
 be the daughter of the Necromancer. Her own loveliness, 
 and her connection with a superhuman, invested her with 
 the triple charm of wonder, speculation, and awe. The 
 little boys regarded her as matchless, but unapproachable, 
 
 A short time after Captain Gale's children became pu 
 pils of the Creswood school, the captain went up to the 
 residence of the minister, which was just beyond Cliff 
 Hall and overlooking the sea, to ascertain how the new 
 pupils took to their books. 
 
 " They commence very well," said the minister, " very 
 well indeed, and they behave well also Johnny sometimes 
 boils over with fun, but he has progressed so far as to be 
 able to restrain to a moderate giggle what, in the begin 
 ning, was as outright laughter as ever was heard at a 
 monkey-show. By-the-way, captain, all my elder scholars, 
 aud myself also, had a good hearty peal at your expense 
 on the day when your children first entered school. It 
 was what I consider a pretty good joke on the captain of 
 the Whitecap." 
 
 " I am sure," said Captain Gale, " that you would never 
 laugh at a bad joke ; so let's have it." 
 
 " It involves an excellent moral, moreover, showing how 
 little we imagine and appreciate the effect which our cas 
 ual or careless expressions may have upon the minds and 
 understandings of the youthful. But here," said the minis-
 
 64 TEKEL, 
 
 ter, with a broad smile of amusement. " It is a custom of 
 my school-room to exercise the memories of the younger 
 pupils by quoting a snatch of something from the primary 
 books over which they have gone, and asking them whence 
 it comes ; from what book cometh it. It was Carroll's 
 first day, and he happened to be at the head of the class. 
 I quoted the first two lines of ' Mary had a little lamb, its 
 fleece was white as snow,' and where, now, do you imagine 
 that Carroll said it could be found?" 
 
 " On board the Whitecap ?" laughingly asked the cap 
 tain. 
 
 " No, captain ; he said that it was from the Bible. 
 
 " ' Error,' said I. ' Try again.' 
 
 " ' It's from Shakspeare,' said he, on second trial. 
 
 " ' Error,' again said I, and was about to pass the ques 
 tion to the next pupil, when he spoke up quickly and deci 
 sively, saying, 
 
 " ' Then it's from the Constitution of the United States, 
 for I heard Uncle Gale say that what wasn't in the Bible 
 was in Shakspeare, and what wasn't in Shakspeare was in 
 the Constitution, and he knows, because he's a sailor, and 
 has been all over the world.'" And the minister laughed 
 heartily at the droll-looking captain. 
 
 " It's a poor sailor that can't shift a joke," said Captain 
 Gale. "If you will look in Matthew, Mark, Luke, or 
 John, you'll find where Mary did have a little lamb, and 
 as white as snow." 
 
 " Ay ; the Lamb of God," reverentially spoke the min 
 ister. " I believe you are right after all, captain. Ay, 
 whiter than snow." 
 
 " I appreciate the moral and accept it ; but, my dear sir," 
 said Captain Gale, smiling, " before you get off another 
 joke upon a sailor, first see whether or not there's a turn 
 to it." 
 
 " I'm aware that you are a shifty crew," said the minis 
 ter. " I only wish that you would shift your helm so as 
 to run into the fold of which this Lamb is the great Shep 
 herd." 
 
 " I am not altogether a stray sheep, Mr. Hope. I be 
 lieve that I belong to the common fold, though not to your 
 flock."
 
 OR CORA OLENCOE. 65 
 
 " It is the safest to choose a distinct flock, and not be com 
 mon to all and an alien to each." 
 
 " I'm trespassing on your time, my dear sir," said Cap 
 tain Gale, who escaped from a discussion for which he did 
 not feel himself prepared just then, and also from a " pre 
 dicament" which most men dislike and few ministers have 
 the knack of making easy or agreeable. Mr. Hope, how 
 ever, was one of those few. He was, par excellence, a 
 chivalrous, reasonable, and dulcet exhortator in pulpit and 
 in private. He did not excite the distaste or provoke the 
 ridicule of his company or companion with the stereotyped 
 whang and whine of the time-serving petty theologian, but 
 like a veteran and knightly soldier of the Cross, roused the 
 celestial ardor and aspirations of the young, and, upon the 
 elder sinner, urged, with no narrow views of the pulpit- 
 politician, but with the attractive and comprehensive 
 ability of the heavenly statesman, the timely adoption of 
 those life-measures which would set the soul in harmony 
 with its Creator, and array it under the Banner of the Prince 
 of Peace. He did not, as is so often done, pencil away his 
 cause by drawing a far-distant, microscopic Eternity, which, 
 compared with the life-sized foreground portrait of Time 
 with all its hurtful and innocuous charms displayed, was 
 as the frail and uncertain butterfly to the unerring and 
 booty-getting eagle. But out of the heights and depths of 
 his own appreciation of the Kingdom, his divine and per 
 petual images overshadowed all fleeting temporalities as 
 the firmament overcometh the earth, rendering them trivial 
 and vapid to the soul, and as idle to the eye as the aimless 
 wind dallying with dead leaves over the graves of the for 
 gotten. 
 
 In the process of time, Carroll May and Cora Glencoe 
 became, in proportion to their years, the boy-brilliant and 
 girl-brilliant of the Creswood school ; and though the min 
 ister did not permit himself to exhibit partiality, he took 
 especial pride and interest in the orphan boy and the ill- 
 fathered little girh But there was a thing in connection 
 with Cora which annoyed and distressed Mr. Hope greatly. 
 She never spoke to Carroll, jlohnny, or Caddy, or gave 
 them an opportunity of speaking to her, though they rubbed 
 together almost every day. The two boys soon learned to 
 
 6*
 
 66 TEKEL, 
 
 let her severely alone, though they found it impossible not 
 to gaze at her whenever, unobserved, they could do so. 
 Caddy Gale did not lack for playmates ; and the fact that 
 Cora never recognized her was one to which, after her first 
 astonishment, she soon got accustomed, losing no sleep 
 about it, and finally regarding it as an unimportant matter- 
 of-course. But the two boys, who had reached the age 
 when romance usurps the place of reason and demolishes 
 the method of the mind, did lose sleep about it, for they 
 were both in love with Coy, as they called her, and talked 
 of her by day and by night, each making a confidant of the 
 other, and sympathizing with each other in their hopeless 
 ness. It would seem natural that they should have dis 
 liked her, but there was nothing in the manner of Coy, 
 beyond her coyness and silence, to create dislike ; nothing 
 supercilious, disdainful, or rude. Her conduct simply and 
 pensively said, "I do not know you; therefore I cannot 
 speak." Or else, and more likely, "I cannot know you; 
 therefore I do not speak." So, from talking continually of 
 Coy, they began to dream of her; and there is nothing so 
 creative of love-sickness, or so fertilizing to the malady, in 
 tender youth, as those strange and ravishing interviews 
 vouchsafed to the vivid dreamer. 
 
 It has been stated that Mr. Hope was both annoyed and 
 distressed on account of Cora's action in ignoring altogether 
 the existence and presence of Carroll May and the young- 
 Gales. 
 
 He was annoyed, because this silent feud interfered with 
 the arrangement of his classes. Cora Glencoe was able to 
 cope with Carroll May in all studies involving ethics, and 
 he would have delighted in putting them in class and com 
 petition with each other. But he had no third pupil to put 
 between them in the class, except his son Garland, who 
 was much older and much too far advanced. In botany, 
 Cora far excelled Carroll, as he did her in geometry. Mr. 
 Hope cultivated, as an adjunct of the school-room, a small 
 botanic garden, in which Cora was often seen, as busy as 
 a bee among the flowers, culling knowledge whence the 
 bee culled honey. 
 
 The minister was distressed, because he witnessed, 
 nearly every day, a precocious restraint and stoicism mani-
 
 OR CORA GLEN CO E. 67 
 
 fested by these children, which, at times, was absolutely 
 painful to him. But he was impotent to ameliorate or 
 remedy what he regarded as lamentable. 
 
 He knew that Oswald Huron had made an unusual con 
 cession in permitting Cora even to attend the same school 
 with the son of Lawyer May and the children of Captain 
 Gale, and that this was the utmost which he could hope 
 from him. He doubted not that the implacable master of 
 Cliff Hall had strictly and despotically charged his little 
 daughter on the subject of her associates; and although the 
 minister had ever been independent of Oswald Huron and 
 his influence, and mentally protested against this precocious 
 feud between innocent children, he did not dare to interfere. 
 But it was on Cora's account, solely, that he held his peace. 
 He looked upon her as a sweet and tender flower, sporadi 
 cally springing up and blooming in a place of shadow, 
 which, should he not give it sunlight and shelter, would 
 wither beneath the nipping frosts, or have its fragrant 
 blonde petals rifted and scattered by the winds. 
 
 Ou the other hand, Oswald Huron, who was a man -of 
 mental culture, though conceding no great respect either to 
 Mr. Hope or his ministerial robe, recognized in the minis 
 ter a man with whom he could safely trust his daughter, 
 and whose school discipline suited his fancy. The almost 
 faultless order of Cora's progress confirmed him in favor 
 of the school, and amply able as he was to have sent 
 her to some more fashionable institution, he was agreed 
 that he could not find a preferable -one, or, in all respects, 
 as convenient and good a one as the school of Creswood. 
 He even permitted himself to go so far as to like Mr. Hope, 
 when, after repeated strict questionings of Cora, he became 
 satisfied that the minister did not presume to dictate to her 
 in regard to her associates. 
 
 Oswald Huron, notwithstanding he has appeared in such 
 a bad light to the reader, possessed the elements of an ex 
 cellent and eminent man. But these elements seemed to 
 have been dislocated, and, acting abnormally upon each 
 other, to have made him what he was, " out of tune and 
 harah." Some said that he was possessed of a devil; 
 others, that he was partially deranged; and still others, 
 that he had deliberately, though bitterly and viciously,
 
 68 TEKEL, 
 
 chosen to be an Ishmael, delighting in nothing so much as 
 to be at loggerheads with all the world. 
 
 Neville Huron, who lived in Philadelphia, differed widely 
 from his brother Oswald. He was an equable, confiding, 
 gentlemanly man and neighbor, almost too confiding in 
 fact, as the sequel may show. But he was forced to regard 
 his brother unfavorably, and. there was but little intercourse 
 between them. Neville Huron was a man of wealth and 
 family. His son Graham, who was about five years the 
 senior of Cora Glencoe, was bis first born. Augusta was 
 next to Cora, and Gertrude was the youngest. Mrs. 
 Neville Huron was a well-bred Philadelphia lady, and the 
 family, as a whole, were highly respectable and elegant in 
 all their appointments. 
 
 CHAPTER VII. 
 
 h 
 
 ONE evening after tea, while Captain Gale was sitting 
 on his cottage portico quietly smoking his pipe, and look 
 ing upon the billows which lazily rolled in the moonlight, 
 Carroll and Johnny maneuvered about him as if medita 
 ting some sort of an attack. Carroll was the bolder scout 
 of the two, or else Johnny had put him forward, for he 
 finally skirmished up to the captain's chair, and said, 
 
 "Uncle Gale." 
 
 "What, Carroll?" 
 
 "Johnny and I want to take a trip." 
 
 "Well, you can take a trip." 
 
 "When, father ?" interposed Johnny, encouraged by this 
 favorable opening. 
 
 "When the Whitecap sails again." 
 
 "But we want a land trip this time," said the boys. 
 
 "Where do you wish to go?" asked Captain Gale. 
 
 " To Texas," answered the boys in chorus. 
 
 " Ph-e-w !" and Captain Gale blew a column of smoke 
 almost up to the ceiling of the por.tico. The boys laughed, 
 but were nevertheless in earnest and anxious. 
 
 "What put Texas in your heads?" asked Captain Gale.
 
 OR CORA GLENCOE. 69 
 
 "Pony Rapid," they replied. 
 
 "Cassel Rapid, do you mean?" 
 
 "Yes, sir." 
 
 " Is he at Creswood ?" 
 
 " No, sir ; but we wrote to him, and got a letter from 
 him." 
 
 "What does4ie say?" 
 
 " He says he wants us to come out there, and make 
 him a visit, and if we have no money, that his father will 
 pay the expenses, and that he will give Johnny and me" 
 (it was Carroll who was now speaking) " a mustang 
 pony. He can ride like a Ranger, and throw the lasso, 
 and shoot, and almost turn himself wrong-side-outwards! 
 He says he will come back with us. He's been going to 
 school in New York, and is going again. He says he'll 
 take us to San Antonio, and show us the A'lamo, where 
 Davy Crocket was killed, and the old Cathedral in the 
 plaza, which is nearly two hundred years old, and was 
 built by the Spaniards. He can talk Mexican, and says 
 that star wano (esta bueno) means bully. He's a star 
 wano fellow, and Johnny and I want to go out and see 
 him and Texas." 
 
 "When Johnny was a small bad boy," said Captain 
 Gale, taking the pipe from his mouth, " he once took a 
 notion to set up an interminable howl for the moon. His 
 mother very properly gave him a spanking and put him 
 to bed. Cassel Rapid is a generous little fellow, and you 
 should both thank him by letter ; but if I hear any more 
 of Texas from either of you, I'll spank you to bed myself;" 
 and the captain" wound up his threat with a three-decker 
 laugh, in which he was joined by the boys, notwithstand 
 ing they saw their panorama of Western travel fade away 
 as the colors of a summer evening sky. 
 
 Four years have passed away, without memorable event 
 in Creswood, since Johnny Gale and Carroll May had 
 projected a trip to Texas. The two boys were nearly 
 grown, and had arrived at that plump and happy age 
 which immediately precedes the time when the mind 
 begins to prey upon the flesh : the time at which thought 
 makes a preliminary survey of the face, and registers
 
 70 TEKEL, 
 
 where it will dig its furrows in the future. Carroll's hair 
 was brown, his eyes dark gray, and altogether he was a 
 handsome and intelligent young fellow. His greatest 
 fault was that of his readiness to take offense at imaginary 
 slights, but this may be partly excused on account of his 
 condition, that of a child of charity. He was destined 
 for the Law, in anticipation of which Captain Gale had 
 preserved for him the library of lawyer May, which was 
 comprehensive, unique, and invaluable. Carroll was not 
 so tall as his father had been, but bid fair to be as tall in 
 his profession, for he was an assiduous searcher. He 
 never passed a word in any sort of reading if he was not 
 satisfied of its signification. He would, when in doubt or 
 ignorance, consult Walker, Webster, and even as quaint 
 an authority as old Bailey. 
 
 Johnny Gale had grown to be a young Hercules. 
 Though not over eighteen years of age, he was taller than 
 his father. He was the picture of rustic health, with his 
 blue-black hair, dark eyes like his mother's, ruddy cheeks, 
 and face as pleasant as good tidings. Having, at the 
 Creswood school, excelled in mathematics, he had been 
 destined to become a civil engineer; the result of a con 
 ference between Captain Gale and Mr. Hope. 
 
 Caddy Gale had grown up almost a tomboy, but she 
 was an agreeable self-acting little maid, with a charming 
 little love-trap of a dimple in her right cheek. 
 
 Of Cora Glencoe we must speak hereafter. 
 
 About this time, there were rumors flying around Cres 
 wood that something very unusual and alarming had 
 happened to the Rapid family out in Texas ; that Mr. 
 Rapid was killed, and his home otherwise terribly visited. 
 Indian raids, Mexicans, freebooters, neighborhood feuds, 
 and other causes, were conjectured and ascribed, and a 
 state of uncertainty enhanced the interest of Mr. Rapid's 
 old friends and acquaintances, until Mr. Hope announced 
 from the pulpit that he had been killed by marauding 
 Indians, Mr. Hope and Mr. Rapid had corresponded 
 regularly up to the time of Mr. Rapid's death, which 
 event was not altogether an idle tale to the community of 
 Creswood, for outside of the families of Mr. Hope and 
 Captain Gale was many an old woman who shook her
 
 OR CORA GLENCOE. U 
 
 head with terrific solemnity and import, while muttering 
 something 1 about "them Injuns." 
 
 This brings us up to the reception, by Mr. Hope, of the 
 letter from young Cassel Rapid, referred to in the begin 
 ning of our second chapter. 
 
 It is possible, right here, that the author may be accused 
 of following the example of the foolish hen, which laid her 
 eggs first, and built her nest afterwards. If so, we can 
 only ask a suspension of condemnation until the sequel 
 proves whether or not the eggs have turned out live 
 chickens. 
 
 Garland Hope, who was now a grown man, and a 
 worthy successor of his father, would be ready in the 
 course of a few months to take the old minister's place in 
 the pulpit. He had already, with the assistance of his 
 elder sister, superseded Mr. Hope in the school-room, and 
 had given universal satisfaction. He would doubtless 
 give equal satisfaction in the pulpit. As Mr. Hope was 
 now an old man, his sermons were growing a little stale 
 with age and the inevitable monotony begotten of twenty- 
 five years' service in the same field ; and there were many 
 who were not loth for the young minister to make his 
 debut. Garland was an exemplary young man ; not one 
 of the sinless and super-saintly kind, but a youth who 
 knew his way and walked gracefully therein. There was 
 too much genuine humility in his soul for him ever to have 
 professed sanctification, if his creed would have allowed 
 any such sacrilege. Mr. Hope, the father, having good 
 material to begin with, had built up his son's character 
 from infancy with tender, utmost care, and he had the 
 gratification, when retiring from the field himself, of giving 
 to the world another worker, who had the nerve to dare 
 what was right, and the grace to spurn what was wrong. 
 Such, briefly, was Garland Hope, with this addition, that 
 he was a plain-looking young man, w"hose manners and 
 comely conduct alone made him handsome. 
 
 Time, that untiring and indomitable fugitive, who is 
 ever going ever coming and ever at hand, like the belt 
 which communicates motion to machinery and keeps it 
 whirling and clicking monotonously, had added two more 
 years of routine and monotony to Creswood, during which
 
 72 TEKEL, 
 
 Carroll May came to be regarded as a young lawyer 
 worthy of small fees, and Johnny Gale as an embryo en 
 gineer, who was preparing to wake up the surrounding 
 forests and crags with the snort of a locomotive. 
 
 It was on a pleasant day in the spring-time when Johnny 
 was out among the Creswood hills with his instruments, 
 running experimental courses. Carroll May, for exercise, 
 had gone out with him, flagging for him, and otherwise 
 assisting him. Captain Gale was at the cottage, idle. He 
 had contracted for a new Whitecap, his old one having be 
 come both too old and too small for bis expanding projects. 
 He was waiting with bis customary serenity to learn, by 
 message from the contractors, that his new boat was ready 
 to launch. The time for launching was overdue, for Cap 
 tain Gale had bargained with himself to be ready for the 
 opening of the spring traffic. But he was now well to do, 
 and the loss of a trip or so did not disturb his equanimity, 
 or increase his allowance of grog. As usual, he was sit 
 ting upon his portico ; for he loved to look at the ocean. 
 He considered himself a wind-and-water-made man, and 
 felt grateful to every sweep of wind, and every billow of 
 brine. While he watched the dimpling sea, which here 
 and there white-capped a culminating wave, he heard a 
 clear, manly voice, at the rear of the island, sing out, 
 
 " Gale Island, ahoy there 1" 
 
 Going to the customary crossing place, he saw upon the 
 opposite shore a well-dressed, prepossessing, youthful fig 
 ure, whose voice shouted across the water, 
 
 " Good-morning, Captain Gale. I am glad to see you 
 well, sir." 
 
 " Who are you ?" demanded the captain. 
 
 " A chieftain to the island bound ; come ferry me over 
 the water," was the response. 
 
 Captain Gale crossed over, and the young gentleman, 
 without ceremony "stepped into the skiff and offered his 
 hand. 
 
 " Excuse me, Captain Gale," said the stranger, with a 
 very pleasant, youthful frankness, " but you do look so 
 natural and familiar ; just as when you used to bring me 
 shells aiid oranges. Do you recall me ?"
 
 OR CORA GLENCOE. 73 
 
 "I do not," replied the captain, scrutinizing the face of 
 the stranger. 
 
 " Take a good look." 
 
 " Wait until we land," said Captain Gale. 
 
 Upon the island shore, the captain scanned from head 
 to foot the young stranger, whose fair, heroic countenance, 
 with a pleasant smile, invited the perplexed captain to take 
 thorough observations. 
 
 " I'm at fault," finally and reluctantly admitted Captain 
 Gale. " I do not know you. But I know this, that I never 
 saw as fine a lad. I thought my own boys about the best 
 specimens afloat, but if you are what you look to be, you 
 can come the top-gallant over either of them. Who are 
 you ?" 
 
 Captain Gale had spoken the truth : he had never seen 
 so fine a " lad." The stranger was apparently about twenty- 
 one or two, and might have stood for a statue of Apollo. 
 His countenance, compared with ordinary faces, reminded 
 one of the difference between cut and moulded glass, or 
 chiseled marble and plaster cast. His hair was a bronze, 
 which the sunbeam burnished to deep gold. His face was 
 manly, beautiful, and brave ; and his violet eyes, which 
 were pure as azure and as bright as a star, should have be 
 longed to some high-spirited and lovely girl. About him 
 was the grace of a trained, though unaffected, youthful ath 
 lete, and as he stood before the captain, with his hat off and 
 dressed in a gentleman's suit of light woolen gray, spring 
 attire, the old mariner thought him the very image of 
 blonde beauty and manliness. In answer to Captain Gale's 
 question of " Who are you ?" he said, 
 
 " Now, captain, if Mrs. Gale is at home, I'll bet you a 
 thimbleful of gallinippers that she knows me." 
 
 " I believe there's no statute against such a wager," said 
 the captain, laughing, " and I'll take it. Come in." 
 
 " I'll beat you, captain," said the youth, pleasantly. 
 " Don't you know that the feminine instinct, memory, and 
 eye are each more acute than the masculine ?" 
 
 " Yes, in matters of dress, colors, gossip, and the like, 
 but not in questions of fact and import." 
 
 Captain Gale introduced the visitor to his cottage, and 
 7
 
 f4 TEKEL, 
 
 into the room where Mrs. Gale was sitting at work with 
 her needle. She raised her head and looked at the stranger. 
 Her countenance, in turn, expressed investigation, appre 
 hension, and conviction, and simultaneously with convic 
 tion she hastily left her chair, and, almost embracing the 
 young man, cried, 
 
 " Gracious me ! if this isn't Pony Kapid!" 
 
 "What! Cassel!" shouted Captain Gale. "It's a fact. 
 Why couldn't I see it at first ?" and taking both of Cas- 
 sel's hands, he shook them heartily. " Bless me, Cassel, 
 what a fine lad you've grown." 
 
 " Let's hear from you, Mrs. Gale," said Cassel, with a 
 free young laugh. 
 
 " I shall not repeat what many a silly girl has doubtless 
 told you," replied Mrs. Gale, merrily. 
 
 " I see you are not in the habit of proving what you 
 say by your wife," said Cassel, turning blithely to Captain 
 Gale. Then addressing Mrs. Gale, he asked, " How did 
 you recognize me so readily ?" 
 
 "I do not know. It was like a flash. I doubt if I 
 could do it again if my life depended on it." 
 
 "Captain," said Cassel humorously, "you had better 
 spread your nets for that thimbleful of gallinippers," and 
 he apprised Mrs. Gale of the wager. " But where are the 
 boys and Caddy ? They must be nearly grown." 
 
 " Johnny and Carroll are out in the woods surveying. 
 Caddy is over to see Rebecca Ruthven, an old school 
 mate." 
 
 " I should like so much to have seen them," said Cassel, 
 "because 1 leave Creswood immediately after dinner. I 
 am stopping with Mr. Hope, and have been here several 
 days ; but I arrived in the night, and have not been about 
 any, from the fact that I did not wish my visit to be 
 known, because I have not time now to see my old friends, 
 and they might think that I had forgotten them as clearly 
 as some of them have forgotten me," and Cassel glanced 
 slyly at Captain Gale. " But I anticipate calling again, 
 and making a general tour of Creswood. By-the-way, 
 are you all as quiet here as ever?" 
 
 "Fully as quiet," answered Captain Gale. "What 
 surprises me is that your arrival is not within the knovvl-
 
 OR CORA GLEN CO E. 75 
 
 edge of every one, for here it is an event for a stranger to 
 be seen." 
 
 " Are there no other strangers in the neighborhood ?" 
 
 "Not at present. A short time ago there was a man 
 here, who, by-the-by, is no stranger to you, for he went 
 out to Texas with you ; but he is not here now." 
 
 " Who is he ?" asked young Rapid. 
 
 " Jonas Aiken." 
 
 Cassel averted his face ; a terrible frown passed over it, 
 and his eyes glittered like burnished steel. 
 
 " Does he make his home here ?" he finally asked, turn 
 ing to Captain Gale with recovered countenance. 
 
 " He was with the men who occupy the huts down on 
 the Starboard Strand, several miles below this. It is hard 
 to tell where any of them make their home, for they are 
 here to-day and gone to-morrow." 
 
 The use of the word "home" reminds us that Mr. Hope 
 had christened his place " Gift Home," apropos of the 
 rare title by which he held it. 
 
 For the present we must follow Cassel Rapid. He 
 went from Creswood to the city of New York, where, in 
 a short time, he received a letter from Mr. Hope. Half 
 an hour after the receipt of this letter, he stepped into a 
 Jew banking-house, Sarazzin & Sarazzin, father and son. 
 Jepthah Sarazzin, the son, a young man about Cassel's 
 age, met him cordially. Cassel had once saved Jepthah's 
 life by an intrepid action, and Jepthah, by one of the most 
 brilliant strokes of finance on record, had subsequently 
 saved the greater portion of Cassel's fortune, out in the 
 wilds of Texas. Each felt under obligations to the other. 
 How this double rescue fell out we promise to relate, 
 should we have space. 
 
 "Jepthah," said Cassel, taking out a memorandum-book 
 and pencil, " what is the name of that detective of whom 
 you were telling me the other day ?" 
 
 " His name is Hector O'Dare." 
 
 " Is he well named ?" asked Cassel. 
 
 " Yes ; he will dare anything, or hector anything, in his 
 line." 
 
 " Is he keen ?" 
 
 "Keen as a cambric needle. Give him a bag of feathers,
 
 fg TEKEL, 
 
 and give him time, and he will produce the geese from 
 which the feathers were plucked." 
 
 " Or the persons that roasted them. But is he reliable ?" 
 
 "Perfectly. Mind you, he is a private detective, not 
 an officer, or policeman. But he has the best nose that 
 ever smelt for missing money or a missing man. Say 
 that this bank should be robbed to-night of a hundred 
 thousand. I would check on O'Dare for ninety-five thou 
 sand, tell him to find the hundred and keep the odd five, 
 and proceed to business by bank hours in the morning, 
 with the latter small amount in deficit only." 
 
 " Hyperbole," said Cassel, smiling. 
 
 "The weapon of my race, in dealing with Gentiles," 
 returned Jepthah, laughing. 
 
 " Where is Hector O'Dare ?" 
 
 " He's now in Boston." 
 
 " Can you give me his address ?" 
 
 " No ; but any of the police can tell you where to find 
 him." 
 
 " The police here, or in Boston ?" 
 
 " I mean in Boston." 
 
 " When will he return to New York?" 
 
 " Can't say." 
 
 "Do you know him well, personally ?" 
 
 " Yes. Do you wish a letter of commendation ?" 
 
 "I do ; and would like for you to assure him of the 
 respectability of my bank balance." 
 
 In a few minutes Jepthah presented Cassel with a docu 
 ment which he said would sufficiently establish him in 
 O'Dare's confidence. 
 
 Cassel Rapid started for Boston on the first train. A 
 few hours before reaching that city an incident occurred, 
 examples of which were, at that time, almost exclusively 
 confined to the East, but which are now growing common 
 throughout America. An old lady, with a little child in 
 her arms, probably a grandchild, got aboard at a way- 
 station, and came into the car in which Cassel was seated, 
 and of which every seat was occupied. Standing at the 
 entrance, she gazed about through her glasses, in search 
 of a resting-place. No gentleman offered her a seat, 
 though it was evident that she actually needed one.
 
 OR CORA GLENCOE. 77 
 
 Cassel Rapid, who had not got accustomed to going 
 through life on pure business principles, observed to the 
 gentleman who sat at his left and immediately beside him, 
 
 " I'm going to exchange places with that old lady." 
 
 " Pshaw !" said the gentleman. " Let the conductor find 
 her a seat ; it's his business." 
 
 Cassel, however, smilingly got up, and walking down 
 the car-way, said to the grandmother, 
 
 " Madam, allow me to offer you what you stand in need 
 of, a seat." 
 
 The old lady regarded him with benevolent surprise, but 
 thanked him kindly, and permitted him to lead her along 
 the aisle. Following this incident came a sequel not antici 
 pated by Cassel or any one else. While Cassel was gallant 
 ing grandmother to her resting-place, a side-whiskered, ur- 
 ban-lookiog native, who, in appearance, was as " peart" as a 
 fly-catcher, and who had been standing, slipped into the 
 vacant seat, and turned his back toward the aisle, as a 
 kind of strategic position. But Cassel tapped him and 
 observed, 
 
 " Sir, you have my seat." 
 
 "Your seat!" replied the urban, turning about with an 
 immense amount of manufactured amazement. 
 
 " You will be kind enough to let this lady have it in my 
 stead," said Cassel, paying no attention to his exclamatory 
 amazement. 
 
 " I don't recognize your title, sir," said the urban. " I 
 found this seat vacant." 
 
 " And you shall leave it as you found it," said Cassel, 
 taking Mr. Urbs by the arm, and forcibly withdrawing him. 
 The much-injured gentleman strained himself up to his ut 
 most inch, and, with a most terrific expression of counte 
 nance, seemed about to say something. Cassel smiled in 
 his face with provoking placidity. Urbs wheeled about 
 and rushed out of the car, intimating by vehement gestures 
 that he would, as soon as he came back, make his power 
 felt in some extraordinary manner, and with tremendous 
 force; which he doubtless would have done if he had come 
 back. 
 
 " Sir," said a feminine voice immediately on the right 
 hand of where Cassel was patiently standing. Cassel 
 
 7*
 
 78 TEKEL, 
 
 turned about. " You can have a seat with me if you will 
 hold my little son time about." 
 
 Cassel accepted the offer, and while he was conducting 
 a conversation with the child, he overheard another con 
 versation behind him not intended for his ear. It was be 
 tween two ladies. 
 
 "But it is not strictly a lack of gallantry," said one 
 voice. " It is a sort of business or commercial custom which 
 has been gaining ground here since the days of the Revo 
 lution, but which is never carried into society. And now 
 that the women, some of them at least, talk of setting up 
 for themselves, the custom that one man is as good as one 
 woman, and, if he happensto.be ahead of her, is that much 
 better, will become a universal practice." 
 
 " Who talks about setting up for themselves ?" 
 
 " They are just beginning to talk about it." 
 
 " What do they wish to do ?" 
 
 " Vote, hold office, go to Congress, and play old Nick 
 generally, as the men do." 
 
 " My stars 1 Who ever heard of such a thing !" 
 
 " Who ever heard of the telegraph before its time ? When 
 I read the newspapers and see how the men carry on, I 
 sometimes think that the women could do better ; and then 
 I think again that they would turn the country heels over 
 head, for I never saw two women agree who were com 
 pelled to occupy the same house. And then what we call 
 our prerogatives would vanish, for you may be sure that 
 no man will ever recognize a petticoat in a pair of panta 
 loons." 
 
 " But for a woman to come out in public, and attempt 
 to do public business, or make a speech ; why, I should 
 think she would faint away and never come to again. I 
 know I should." 
 
 " But there are those who would not. For example, 
 there is one just ahead of you ; that one with the short 
 hair and Byron collar, who speaks in Boston to-night." 
 
 " Oh, horrid ! What can possibly be the name of such 
 a creature ?" 
 
 " She is one of our celebrities, Miss Delilah Hotseat. 
 She can tell all she knows a half a dozen times in as many 
 minutes, and tell it with greater emphasis every, time.
 
 OR CORA GLENCOE. 79 
 
 She's a regular jimplecute, shearing the locks from the men 
 and making their seats too hot to hold them." 
 " What does she talk about ?" 
 " Women's Rights, and women's Wrongs." 
 "But why don't each woman get her husband to favor 
 what she wants, and then there would be no need of this ?" 
 " Each woman get some other woman's husband, you'd 
 better say," was the merry reply. " No ; if they get what 
 they want, pr pretend to want, they will have to do it by 
 public clamor and private bribery. Suppose, for instance, 
 that a married woman should approach her husband on 
 the subject. Old Cross-sticks would look over his specta 
 cles and say, ' Why, damn it, Mary, you wear the breeches 
 now ! What the devil more do you want?' Or be would 
 palaver, ' My dearest dear, if all the women were like you, 
 it would be the thing : but except my dearest ducky of a 
 wifey, I would not be willing to trust one of them, the de 
 ceitful things !' and so it goes, don't you see ? Again, 
 unless the men themselves advocate women's rights, you 
 might just as well try to bail a raft as try to change the 
 'status' as they call it. And no man is going to advo 
 cate these rights for his wife's sake, for each lord is some 
 what of the opinion that his lady enjoys all the rights 
 she's entitled to. Therefore, when a man does break ground 
 on the weak side of this new issue, you can set it down 
 that he has found an overweakness in it somewhere ; that 
 somebody's wife or somebody's old maid has something to 
 do with it ; in fact, that there's something rotten in the 
 state of Denmark, and he'd better not have a jealous wife 
 at home, I can tell you. I'm not overly inclined to be jeal 
 ous, but let me catch my old rooster of a husband cuch-a- 
 cawing around these stray hens, and if I don't give him a 
 sprinkling of woman's rights, he'll have nothing to thank 
 but his shroud." Two merry voices mingled in laughter, 
 and the subject was discontinued, much to the regret of 
 Cassel Rapid, who had been an amused listener. Cassel 
 formed the double resolution that, primarily, he would en 
 deavor not to get him a jealous wife, and, secondarily, 
 should he get him a wife at all, never to be moved into es 
 pousing the dangerous cause by any woman's convincing 
 argument but that of his own esposa.
 
 80 TEKEL, 
 
 CHAPTER VIII. 
 
 IT was dusk when Cassel Rapid reached Boston. The 
 following day was the Sabbath. He strolled out into the 
 city, which was exceedingly quiet, and, in- comparison 
 with other large cities upon the seventh day, appeared 
 almost deserted. Cassel, who was constitutionally a 
 devotee, rather liked this stately calm, so meet for medita 
 tion, so suggestive of the holy sanctuary of the week, and 
 so appropriate to it. 
 
 Standing upon a corner, he gazed indolently up and 
 down the streets, while a feeling of pensiveness and lone 
 liness stole into his heart ; for he was alone in the wide, 
 wide world. With absent, dreamy thoughts, he drew out 
 a cigar-case, opened it, made a selection, returned the case 
 to his pocket, bit off the end of his cigar, spat it out, 
 fingered for a match in his vest pocket, found one, and 
 was about to strike it, when he was interrupted by a tap 
 on the shoulder, and a voice which said, 
 
 " Can't smoke here, sir." 
 
 Without turning about to see by whom or what he was 
 interrupted, Cassel observed, 
 
 " I reckon I can try." 
 
 " Guess you can't try," was the response. 
 
 "Nosefuma?" said Cassel. 
 
 "I don't understand you," said the policeman. 
 
 " Neither do I understand you," replied Cassel, casting 
 about and taking an observation of a person whom he 
 considered an intruder. 
 
 "Do you know where you are ?" 
 
 " I went to bed last night in Boston : I presume I waked 
 up this morning in the same place." 
 
 " You are a stranger here, are you ?" 
 
 "Ah, I understand you," said Cassel, provokingly. 
 " You come to tender me the hospitalities of the city. 
 About what time does the mayor dine ?"
 
 OR CORA GLEN CO E. 81 
 
 " No, sir. I come to tell you that you cannot smoke in 
 Boston." 
 
 " You are jesting," said Cassel, with a smile. 
 
 The policeman scowled at him. 
 
 " Are you positively in earnest ? And is this a freak 
 of your own merely, or a prank of your municipality ?" 
 
 The policeman continued to scowl. 
 
 " Will you then permit me," asked Cassel, "to burn my 
 tobacco on a chip and smell of the smoke ?" 
 
 The policeman scowled yet more sternly. 
 
 " I'll get out of your beat, polly, if I have to travel all 
 day ;" and Cassel threw his cigar in the gutter. Two 
 sharp-set urchins immediately pounced upon the prohibited 
 luxury, and struggled for possession. 
 
 Cassel sauntered away. He was followed by the two 
 urchins, one of whom, overtaking him, accosted him with, 
 " Want to buy a Testament ?" at the same time slyly half 
 disclosing a lewd illustration of an obscene book. 
 
 " Clear out, you young imp, or I'll spank the iniquity 
 out of you !" said Cassel, disgusted at this juvenile 
 depravity. 
 
 Having walked several squares, Cassel halted on 
 another corner. With the view of making a toothpick, 
 he opened a penknife and began to shave one end of the 
 match with which he had contemplated lighting his cigar, 
 and which he still retained between his fingers. Pretty 
 soon another policeman accosted him. 
 
 " Stranger here, sir ?" 
 
 " Partly." 
 
 " Thought so. You musn't make this litter on the 
 pavement." 
 
 " Litter ! I'm only making a toothpick." 
 
 " Can't help it : regulations, you know." 
 
 " Do you mean to say that I am violating a city ordi 
 nance?" 
 
 "Yes, sir." 
 
 " Then I am mistaken. I stopped off at the wrong 
 place. I thought I was in Boston." 
 
 " You are in Boston." 
 
 "Is it possible, then, that a man can't make a toothpick 
 in the paradise of a whole nation of whittlers ?"
 
 82 TEKEL, 
 
 " Let me see the size of that weapon," said the police 
 man. 
 
 " Weapon ! You are blind: 'tis but a penknife." 
 
 " Be careful, you might get nabbed for carrying con 
 cealed arms." 
 
 " It is not concealed." 
 
 " You had better close it and carry it openly." 
 
 " You've made a pun of it, but I'd see you in " 
 
 " Hold !" cried the policeman, " or you will compel me 
 to arrest you." 
 
 " Arrest me ! For what ?" 
 
 " For using profane language." 
 
 " You've broken the camel's back, by thunder !" said 
 Cassel, laughing. " This is the most solemn occasion of 
 my existence. Can't you enliven it a little by singing for 
 me that good old song of ' Come tickle my tail with a 
 barley straw,' or am I permitted to laugh ? Could I, if I 
 should happen upon something irresistibly funny, stick 
 my head in a sewer, or under a goods box, and have a 
 good free guffaw all to myself, without risk of fine or 
 imprisonment for high misdemeanor? Or is the very 
 atmosphere apportioned here, share and share alike, so 
 that no man can take a long breath, or expend an ounce 
 by laughing out of time, without trespassing on the muni 
 cipal rights and privileges of his neighbors ? By-the-way, 
 how much air is set apart here by your city council for 
 the necessities and refreshment of the stranger ? I wish 
 to get the figures, for I might overbreathe myself, and be 
 put to the trouble and expense of importing a score or two 
 of cubic feet to fill up the vacuum." 
 
 A broad, open smile spread over the policeman's face 
 (for he was an Irishman) as he looked at the handsome 
 young stranger before him. 
 
 " Old fish," continued Cassel, with that current audacity 
 which touring begets, "your individual style strikes me 
 with admiration and awe. You'd whip out his Nether 
 Majesty, and let him pick his own charcoal. You are a 
 son of liberty, a lover of freedom, endeavoring to over 
 throw this municipal despotism by making it odious. I 
 tell you, polly (Cassel's short for policeman), this place 
 is too much governed ; stricter than a Scotch Sunday-
 
 OR CORA QLENCOE. 83 
 
 school. But how did you ever get to be a Boston 
 polly ?" 
 
 "Why not?" 
 
 " Because you are a born Irishman." 
 
 " How know you ?" 
 
 " Not altogether from your speech ; but from the poise 
 of your head, the set of your ears, the dip of your under 
 jaw, and by that unmistakable embouchure so suggestive 
 of a horn. Apropos, how do you manage to get your regu 
 lar potteen ? I understood you were all running here on 
 snow-water and flaxseed-tea ! But that is not just now 
 the main question, polly, for there is a main question, and 
 I want you to answer it." 
 
 " What is it ?" 
 
 ' Do you know Mr. Hector O'Dare ?" 
 
 The policeman gave a quick glance of inquiry and in 
 terest at Cassel, and asked, 
 
 ' Why do you put such a question as that ?" 
 
 " It's a very ordinary question, is it not ?" 
 
 "Yes. But why do you ask me?" 
 
 " Not because you are so very accommodating, cer 
 tainly," said Cassel, laughing. " But whom should I ask? 
 I know nobody here. I wish to find O'Dare. You are as 
 likely to know him, and know where he is, as the next 
 man. Am I to hunt all over the city for a man who looks 
 as if he knew O'Dare, before asking such a question ?" 
 
 " Have you business with him ?" 
 
 "Yes." 
 
 " Is it important ?" 
 
 "Can a duck swim? Pshaw! Do you know O'Dare, 
 or do you not? I dare you to say yes or no." 
 
 "Yes." 
 
 " Where is he ?" 
 
 " In Boston." 
 
 " I already know as much ; but his address ?" 
 
 " You can address him through me. He is busy, and 
 may not wish to but are you a friend of his? or an ac 
 quaintance ?" 
 
 " I am not. But I have use for him. I know that he 
 is here working up a case, and may not wish to be dis 
 turbed. Here are my credentials. Examine them, and,
 
 84 TEKEL, 
 
 when convenient, deliver them to O'Dare, and request him 
 to appoint me an interview. You will put me under obli 
 gations to you, and will probably be doing a favor to 
 O'Dare. What say you ?" 
 
 "I couldn't very well say no." 
 
 " Not if you are an Irishman. Here are the credentials. 
 "When shall I cross your beat for an answer?" 
 
 " Meet me here to-morrow morning at ten o'clock." 
 
 " Will you give me your name? You have mine." 
 
 " Flynn Michael Flynn." 
 
 Cassel made a note of it. When the policeman turned 
 to go his rounds, the youth asked, 
 
 " Can a man chew tobacco here ?" 
 
 " If he has it, and don't spit on the pave, or throw his 
 quids about." 
 
 " Don't you furnish spittoons ? But no difference, I 
 never chew ;" and each with a laugh went his way. 
 
 Walking along, Cassel met a good-looking servant-girl. 
 Whether he winked at her or not we are unable to say, but 
 she cried, 
 
 " What do ye mean, sir, by blinking at me ?" 
 
 " There's something in my eye," said Cassel. 
 
 " A likely story," retorted the girl disdainfully ; " what's 
 in the eye of ye ?" 
 
 " A pretty girl," said Cassel, smiling. 
 
 " Ye rogue, ye!" replied the girl, appeased, passing on, 
 and casting a sly glance back at the comely youth. 
 
 The following morning Cassel Rapid met Michael Flynn 
 on his beat. The latter said, 
 
 " O'Dare will meet you on the northeast corner of Bond 
 and Gay Streets at half-past ten o'clock precisely." 
 
 " Where is that ?" 
 
 " It is the corner of this block diagonally opposite to 
 where we nuw stand. Pass half way round the block and 
 you are there." 
 
 " What is your time of day ?" 
 
 " You have an hour and ten minutes to spare. Your 
 letter from the Sarazzins was satisfactory, and O'Dare told 
 me in his behalf to offer you my good offices." 
 
 " I'm obliged to you, and to him, and will avail myself of 
 your kindness now. The weather, Mr. Flynn, is a little
 
 OR CORA GLENCOE. 85 
 
 warm, and I would like to have a sherry cobbler, or a glass 
 of beer, or something of the sort. I rarely ever drink ; 
 but, by thunder, your very prohibition here makes me as 
 dry as a wooden god!"" 
 
 " Oh, well," replied Flynn, with a sly smile, "you can 
 get pretty much what you want if you'll only be a little 
 quiet about it ;" and Flynn gave Cassel directions where to 
 go and what to do in order to succeed in refreshing him 
 self. But just as Cassel was about to turn away, Flynn 
 indifferently asked him where he was from. 
 
 " From most everywhere," said Cassel, " east, south, 
 and west, New York, Maryland, and Texas." 
 
 " What part of Texas ?" asked Flynn. 
 
 "The Brazos." 
 
 " Did you know many people out there ?" 
 
 "Everybody within two hundred miles of Ranche 
 Rapid." 
 
 " Ranche Rapid ?" 
 
 "Yes. Why so earnest?" 
 
 "Jesus! what's O'Dare thinking about, and with the 
 letter of Sarazzin in his pocket ? Come with me ;" and 
 Flynn took Cassel by the arm. 
 
 "Am I to consider myself under arrest?" asked Cassel, 
 with some surprise. 
 
 "Arrest 1 No. I'm going to take you to see O'Dare 
 without waiting. I think you can untie a knot." 
 
 Cassel went with the policeman, who took him into a 
 building and to a secret place, and gave him a spy's 
 view of an apartment, in which were three men playing 
 cards. 
 
 " That is O'Dare with his face this way," said Flynn. 
 
 " Why, he's beastly drunk," said Cassel, with a feeling 
 of deep disappointment. 
 
 "Not drunk at all. He's only foxing." 
 
 Cassel gazed a moment, with increasing interest ; and 
 then turning to Flynn, asked, 
 
 " How dfo you get in there ?" 
 
 * " By this door ; but you mustn't think of going . in 
 until I notify O'Dare." 
 
 " But I do think of going in. I see a man there that I 
 want." 
 
 8
 
 86 TEKEL, 
 
 " Which one ?" 
 
 " The one with the sandy hair." 
 
 " Is his name Gilders ?" asked Flynn, with uncon 
 cealed interest. " If it is, he is the man that O'Dare is 
 after." 
 
 Without replying, and before Flynn could prevent him, 
 Cassel opened the door and stepped into the room. 
 
 O'Dare was a man of thirty-seven or thirty-eight years of 
 age, about five feet ten incites in height, well and actively 
 built, and with a face like granite. When Cassel entered 
 the room the detective's hawk-like eye lit up during the 
 fraction of an instant from its pretended drunkenness, and 
 something like a frown passed over his face ; for he had 
 seen Flynn close the door after young Rapid, and thought 
 that the policeman was intruding the young man upon 
 him all out of time. Cassel walked up to the table and 
 confronted the man with the sandy hair. As each gazed 
 at the other, there was a world of difference between 
 their countenances. The man dropped his cards and 
 turned pale. Cassel, in a voice which thrilled even 
 O'Dare's veteran heart by the depth of its sadness, 
 said, 
 
 " Gilders, do you know me ?" 
 
 The man dropped his gaze, and remained silent. 
 
 " Deliver to me that certificate of deposit, Gilders." 
 
 Without a word the man drew out a wallet, selected a 
 paper, and handed it to young Rapid. 
 
 " Gilders, I do not intend to have you arrested. You 
 know why it is that I spare you." 
 
 O'Dare looked keenly and inquiringly at Cassel, who 
 continued, 
 
 " Have you any money ?" 
 
 " No," replied Gilders. 
 
 " Is there pen and ink here ?" asked Cassel, looking 
 around. 
 
 O'Dare, who still maintained his drunken character, 
 took from a pocket of his coat writing materials, observ 
 ing that he was a "local," and always carried the articles. 
 Cassel drew a check for five hundred dollars on Sarazzin 
 & Sarazzin, and, handing it to Gilders, said, with an affec 
 tionate sternness,
 
 OR CORA GLENCOE. 87 
 
 " Take this, and go, and sin no more" 
 
 The man's eyes gushed with tears; and, in a voice of 
 earnestness and passion, he said, 
 
 " Cassel, you are the noblest boy that ever drew a 
 breath. Would to God that I had died, or had your 
 courage when " 
 
 "No more," sternly said Cassel, while a terrible frown 
 plowed his brow with furrows. 
 
 " I ought not to take this," said Gilders, alluding to the 
 money check. 
 
 "Take it," said Cassel, "it is freely given, and I hope 
 you will let your better nature predominate." 
 
 Gilders prepared to go. Hesitating, he turned to young 
 Rapid and said, 
 
 " Tell me good-by, Cassel, and give me your hand. I 
 acknowledge my unworthiness, but will try to be a better 
 man. " 
 
 " On that condition," said Cassel, extending his hand, 
 which Gilders wrung, and went his way. 
 
 O'Dare immediately doffed his drunken character, and, 
 turning to the man who had been the third party at the 
 card-table, said, 
 
 "You can go." 
 
 When O'Dare's understrapper disappeared, the detective 
 bowed to Cassel, saying, 
 
 " Mr. Rapid, if I am not mistaken ?" 
 
 " Mr. O'Dare, likewise," said Cassel, with a return bow. 
 "Did I anticipate you?" and young Rapid held up the 
 certificate which he had taken from Gilders. 
 
 " Just so," said O'Dare. 
 
 "Shall I keep it, or you take it ?!' 
 
 " Were you employed to recover it ?" 
 
 "No. But I knew of it." 
 
 " Then I'll take it," said the detective. 
 
 " State your case, and show your authority." 
 
 "The case is this," said O'Dare. "John R. Lake, of 
 Ohio, late of New Orleans, but now of New York city, 
 general cattle-dealer, bought of Cassel Pontiac Rapid, of 
 Rauche Rapid, Texas, yourself, by-the-by ; but I did 
 not imagine it until I heard Gilders call your first name, 
 for Sarazzin only mentions you as Mr. Rapid of New
 
 88 TEKEL, 
 
 York, some four thousand head of cattle, horned cattle, 
 and horses. Gilders, your old herder, and I was neither 
 certain of my man or that he still held this paper, was 
 in charge of a thousand head of horned cattle, as chief 
 herder for Mr. Lake. He sold the cattle on the prairie, 
 took the purchase money, went to New Orleans, put it 
 upon special deposit under an alias. Lake, who was 
 away in San Antonio, followed as soon as he learned of 
 the robbery, but could not recover the money from bank 
 without producing the certificate of deposit, or catching 
 the depositor and convicting him of the robbery. The 
 cattle had been marketed in Louisiana, and consequently 
 were out of reach. This money remains in bank, under 
 an injunction. This certificate will insure the surrender 
 of it to Mr. Lake ; and now that I think of it, it would 
 probably have been better had you made Gilders transfer 
 the certificate. That, however, is not essential. Here is 
 my authority from Mr. Lake." 
 
 Cassel, being thoroughly satisfied, handed the certificate 
 to O'Dare, observing, 
 
 " Lake and I are old friends. Gilders was my chief 
 herder. He could have served me as he did Mr. Lake, 
 but would not, at least did not do it. That, however, is 
 not the reason I spared him. How long have you been on 
 this case ? It's nearly six months old." 
 
 " Seven weeks. But I had to commence at New Orleans, 
 by correspondence. And now, Mr. Rapid, I am at your 
 service. What is the character of your business with me ?" 
 
 " I expected to confer with you in a private room, Mr. 
 O'Dare ; but it seems quiet here, and there is no need of 
 delay. Preliminary to my confiding in you, I will ask 
 whether or not you have any conscientious scruples in 
 regard to the death penalty ?" 
 
 " In a clear case I have none whatever." 
 
 In the conference which succeeded, Cassel Rapid accom 
 plished the object of his visit to Boston, and he and the 
 detective went upon the street as two men who know each 
 other well. Young Rapid had plowed up the tough breast 
 of the detective with an inherent, imperial power, en 
 hanced by external incentive, and had moved upon the heart 
 of O'Dare as no other had ever moved there.
 
 OR CORA GLENCOE. 89 
 
 " O'Dare," said Cassel, when they were on the street, 
 " I want you to pilot me to a glass of lager beer." 
 
 " Why, dou't you know," said O'Dare, " that sweet cider 
 is the only beverage allowed here ?" 
 
 " The only legitimate, court beverage ; but I understand 
 that a glass of beer, a cobbler, or most anything, can be had 
 through the back window." 
 
 " Such as it is ; for those who persist in keeping liquors 
 can afford to keep only the most villainous and worthless 
 stuff, for fear of seizure. Nearly all the lager beer in the 
 city has been from cave to court and from court to cave, 
 the mid-day sun shining on it meantime. The joke is, that 
 the prohibitionists go and get drunk on cider, the court 
 beverage, and then organize a special crusade against lager, 
 overlooking, on their march, any amount of high wine and 
 N. E. rum. But I will take you to an illustrative estab 
 lishment, not far from here, where you will get the correct 
 idea.- In the room fronting the street you will find openly 
 for sale ' Sweet Cider,' made, by-the-by, from decayed late 
 winter apples. To the rear is another room, which you 
 enter, if the man inside at the spy-hole is satisfied, after 
 some little ceremony, where you find the ' ardent.' To the 
 rear of this room is another, to be entered yet more cau 
 tiously. There you come upon the terrible destroyer, lager 
 beer, chained and cowering in its den. The whole estab 
 lishment is under one and the same proprietorship. But 
 here we are ; come in." 
 
 " What will you have, gentlemen ?" asked the keeper. 
 
 " Sherry cobblers," said O'Dare, winkiug at Cassel. 
 
 " We keep no intoxicating liquors whatever," asserted 
 the pious keeper. 
 
 "What have you wherewithal to refresh a man ?" 
 
 " Sweet cider." 
 
 " Is it full of gripes ?" 
 
 " Not so fresh and sweet as that. It has tang enough 
 to cut the phlegm." 
 
 " Let us taste it." 
 
 The keeper produced his cider. O'Dare tasted it, and 
 turning to Cassel, said, 
 
 " If a man should drink three beer-mugs of this he 
 wouldn't be sober again for a week. I should say it 
 
 8*
 
 90 TEKEL, 
 
 would cut the phlegm, and the pigeon- wing too," observed 
 O'Dare to the keeper. 
 
 Making their way to the first rear room, O'Dare called 
 for some whisky. A bottle and glass were handed out. 
 Cassel smelt of the bottle, and turning to keeper No. 2, 
 asked, 
 
 " What do you call this ?" 
 
 " Whisky. What the divil else is it?" demanded No. 2. 
 
 "1 should take it," said Cassel, laughing, "to be a 
 mixture of captured lightning, blue vitriol, and lunar 
 caustic." 
 
 Room No. 3 clandestinely received the two experiment 
 alists, and Cassel ordered some lager beer. It was drawn 
 and served as of old. Cassel looked at the foamless 
 surface of it and said, 
 
 " Hans, this won't do at all. It is too old, it's stale." 
 
 " Ah !" said Hans innocently, " the how older it be the 
 so better it was." 
 
 "Have you no beer," asked O'Dare, "that has never 
 seen a court-room, or an officer of the Prohibition ?" 
 
 Hans winked, and proceeded to draw from a different 
 keg. The lager foamed up ambitiously with an overflow 
 ing crest. 
 
 " Why, Hans, this is jolly," said O'Dare, lifting his 
 mug. " Gayer than a young Dutchman with his coat tail 
 afire." 
 
 " Or mit bis belly full of sweet cider," replied Hans, 
 with a sardonic grin. 
 
 Indulging in a couple of mugs each, O'Dare and Cassel 
 withdrew, feeling much refreshed, for the day was warm 
 and sultry. The first train carried them to New York. 
 
 The last few pages are not the less illustrative from 
 embodying an anachronism.
 
 OR CORA GLENCOE. 91 
 
 CHAPTER IX. 
 
 FARMER MEDLEY and Bachelor Boyd owned adjoining 
 farms in one of the oleaginous districts of Pennsylvania, 
 and each awoke one morning to find himself floating in oil. 
 
 Wealth came upon them like an overflow. They had 
 neighbored harmoniously for many years as petty farmers, 
 and they congratulated each other most heartily, and with 
 out envy, upon the sudden good fortune which had trans 
 formed them into magnates of the land. Bachelor Boyd 
 had, for a year or so, cast covetous glances at Malinda, 
 eldest daughter of Farmer Medley, and taking advantage 
 of that enthusiasm of compliance which sudden wealth 
 begets, he cunningly and with oily tongue approached 
 Farmer Medley, and importuned the pretty Linda, upon 
 the subject next his heart, and which had furnished him 
 many an hour of solitary cogitation. 
 
 Between two such well-oiled families as the Boyd and 
 the Medley, it was only natural to anticipate that all 
 matters, whether of import or not, would work smoothly. 
 Therefore, with little other consideration than their mutual 
 family respect, their common good fortune and good pros 
 pects, a Boyd-Medley alliance was formed, and Linda 
 became Mrs. Boyd. 
 
 Bachelor Boyd, in order to do the proper, fashionable, 
 and wealthy thing, had, prior to the nuptials, purchased an 
 elegant residence in the city of New York, Philadelphia 
 not being sufficiently gay for him, on one of the hand 
 some streets leading into Fifth Avenue. He loved Linda, 
 and the few gray hairs in his head made him none the 
 less romantic and rhapsodic in view of his future arrange 
 ments. It was decided that the wedding ceremony should 
 be succeeded by a gorgeous dinner, immediately after 
 which a carriage should take them to the nearest rail 
 road depot, from whence they would go on to their New 
 York home, which was well furnished and prepared to
 
 92 TEKEL, 
 
 receive them, where they would begin to concoct measures 
 by which to people their little paradise with angels. 
 
 The minister had performed his duty, the guests had by 
 no means neglected theirs, and the contracted couple, bear 
 ing away with them the eclat of the occasion, soon found 
 themselves dashing forward to New York, with thoughts 
 all for the future, when a terrible crash and disaster 
 spread havoc along the road. 
 
 An hour later, and Linda. was watching over a mangled 
 husband, herself unhurt, while they were again dashing 
 along upon an extra train which had been expressed to 
 meet the disaster. The husband had just enough life in 
 him to insist upon a rigid adherence to the original pro 
 gramme. Arriving in New York, the sight of his pre 
 paratory lovework, as he was being borne to a chamber, 
 temporarily reanimated him. But the surgeons who were 
 called in warned him that, if he desired to make a will, he 
 had better be mending his pen. In the flush and fullness 
 of his love, he willed his possessions, all and singular, to 
 his bride, and, without more ado, slept with his fathers, 
 instead of with his wife. 
 
 In addition to the mansion-house in the city, and its 
 furnishings, with the oleaginous substrata back in Penn 
 sylvania, Linda came into possession of more cash in bank 
 than she knew how to count or what to do with, for she 
 was but seventeen years of age, a pure rustic, and as green 
 as grass. 
 
 Recovering from the horror occasioned by the rough and 
 gory death of her husband, whom she esteemed, but prob 
 ably did not passionately love, she determined, now that 
 she was in the great city, and able to stay, that she would 
 stay. A total stranger to the turmoil, the glitter, and the 
 countless array which met her eye at every glance, an 
 ambition took possession of her to comprehend, mingle 
 with, and become a part of it. She saw fine ladies whirl 
 ing here and there, dressed like peacocks, and accosting 
 each other with theatrical gestures, and voices of peculiar 
 modulation, and smiles of angelic sweetness. She saw 
 gentlemen with the air of kings and heroes, spurning the 
 pave with vigorous heel, and with a single wave of the 
 hand, transferring, as it were, armies, navies, and bottom-
 
 OR CORA GLENCOE. 93 
 
 less exchequers. How insignificant, compared to all this 
 splendor, and sweeping novelty, and electric life, were the 
 greasy oil-tanks, the lowing cows, the grunting hogs, and 
 the stale interchange, back at the Medley farm in Pennsyl 
 vania ! Linda's utter ignorance of city life and the but 
 terfly-chase of that human vortex, was the cause of her 
 entertaining most exquisitely absurd ideas of the relations 
 existing between one person and another in the routine and 
 rodomontade of an urban existence and contact, and she 
 bid fair to become an unfailing source of amusement and 
 side-splitting laughter to her appreciative neighbors. 
 
 At the end of twelve mouths she threw aside her widow's 
 weeds, of which she had become mortally weary, and came 
 out in colors. 
 
 Upon a certain day in June she ventured upon her first 
 airing, in a bright, new carriage, when, on returning home 
 ward, one of the wheels, which probably lacked the original 
 linch-pin,' rolled off, and she was tossed into the street. 
 Her hoops and dress caught upon one of the door-handles 
 of the carriage, and she was not able immediately to 
 extricate herself. The horses began to prance, and the 
 carriage, so suddenly halted, caused other vehicles, both 
 coming and going, to halt likewise, so that Linda quickly 
 became the center of quite a little park of crowding 
 wheels and restless animals. Her situation was getting 
 to be alarming, for she was in danger of being trampled 
 to death ; and aside from the peril, her skirts were ele 
 vated to a degree which exposed a stitch or two too 
 much of her chaste white stocking. 
 
 " Jupiter ! what a pretty ankle 1" exclaimed a young 
 man sitting close by in a carriage whose career had been 
 interrupted by this sudden blockade. At the same mo 
 ment, and from the same carriage, a young gentleman 
 sprang out, and rescued Linda from her peril and per 
 plexity. 
 
 " Please take me home," said Linda beseechingly, as 
 soon as she had gained the sidewalk. 
 
 " Will you have a carriage ?" asked the young gentle 
 man. 
 
 " Oh, no! no!" quickly answered Linda. " I live but a 
 few squares from here, and we can soon walk it. Please 
 do."
 
 94 TEKEL, 
 
 " Certainly I will," said the young gentleman, who 
 saw that his charge was frightened and needed encourage 
 ment. 
 
 "Rapid, are you going to spend the day there?" 
 cried a voice from the carriage whence came the rescuer. 
 
 " Yes," replied Cassel, for it was he. " Go on, and I 
 will meet you at the hotel." Turning to Linda, he said, 
 " Now I am ready to accompany you. Which way do 
 we go ?" 
 
 " I don't know," said Linda with innocent perplexity 
 and some surprise. " I thought you would know ;" and 
 she looked up in Cassel's face." 
 
 " This is a pretty pickle 1" said Cassel, with a pleasant 
 and amused countenance. "Can't you give me your 
 street and number ?" 
 
 " Oh, yes, sir," replied Linda, brightening, and calling 
 off the street and number of her residence. "I know it 
 is not far from here, but whether it's this way or that 
 way I can't tell for the sake of me." 
 
 " Come along," said Cassel, with that brotherly non 
 chalance which made his ways so pleasant to the girls, 
 " and I will soon find it for you." 
 
 As they walked along the street, Cassel hardly knew 
 how to classify Linda. Was she a resident of the city ? 
 If so, she was a very fresh one. Might she not be a 
 very pretty servant-girl who, in the absence "of her mis 
 tress, had daringly borrowed her mistress's attire, and per 
 suaded the coachman, with a promised kiss, to take her 
 out on a swell? But her ingenuous face precluded the 
 supposition. Cassel looked at her dress. It was not 
 correct, but it was expensive and rich. Her hands and 
 feet were small, her hair soft and abundant, her cheek 
 blooming and tender, her eyes modest, her manner neither 
 of the country nor the city, but absurd, preposterous, and 
 unique. But in spite of it all, she was unquestionably a 
 pretty piece of flesh, and Cassel did not think it tiresome 
 to take her home. 
 
 Arrived at the Boyd mansion, he was urged both by 
 Linda and a growing curiosity to follow her into the 
 house, the superb front and balcony of which served but 
 to enhance his bewilderment.
 
 OR CORA GLENCOE. 95 
 
 Linda had recognized in Cassel a gallant, handsome, 
 city-going person of the masculine gender ; and now that 
 she was at her own house, and being indebted to him 
 withal, she felt under obligations to invite him in, and 
 ambitious to entertain him in a style which would, while 
 evincing her gratitude, establish at once her reputation as 
 a genuine, gilt-edged, metropolitan lady, capable of all 
 the fine arts of society. During the days of her mourn 
 ing Linda had properly secluded herself, postponing all 
 pomp, display, and profusion until the time when she 
 should lay aside her widow's weeds. She had looked 
 forward to that hour as to the breaking of seals ; and to it 
 she had referred so many things to be done and begun (in 
 the imaginary midst of which things she failed not to 
 recognize her own figure as chiefest), that the arrival of 
 the bright period had been anticipated as a puerto which 
 would let her in upon numberless essential urban 
 responsibilities, duties, and pleasures, which, unfamiliar 
 though they should be, she had so conned, and imagined, 
 and rehearsed, that she was satisfied, in her own mind 
 and unsophisticated little heart, they would become 
 familiar on sight and self-adapting on contact. But now 
 that she had occasion to test the practicability and scope 
 of her theories so often pondered, her conceptions of the 
 proper and opportune were not as clear as crystal or more 
 ready than Glendower's spirits. She was satisfied that a 
 great deal of gesticulative and wordy ceremony was de 
 manded ; but as to the character of it, whether it should be 
 grave or gay, familiar or reserved, she was in a mire of 
 doubt and ignorance ; for, in all her rehearsals, she had 
 never anticipated a carriage accident, a predicament of 
 peril, an elegant, youthful, and noble-looking rescuer, with 
 the self-imposed exigency of having to entertain him off- 
 band. Moreover, here was a double demand upon her un 
 developed resources. She must not only give style to her 
 hospitality, but a proper degree of significance to her grat 
 itude. Cassel was fortunate enough to be the first object 
 of her superlative attention and solicitude, this being the 
 initiatory act, after her emancipation, of the brilliant play 
 of " Life in the Great City." And however unprepared she 
 felt herself to be, she was determined not to fail for lack of
 
 96 TEKEL, 
 
 an effort. There was but one point connected with Linda, 
 as she assiduously maneuvered about the splendid parlors, 
 and about him, upon which Cassel's mind was perfectly 
 clear. The point was this : that she undoubtedly con 
 sidered the present an occasion of no ordinary consequence, 
 and, whatever she might be herself, was strenuously essay 
 ing to do the double-distinguished bon-ton, and, by-the-way, 
 making a most ridiculous farce of it. Out of and into the 
 parlors she hurried, giving him no time to introduce him 
 self, apparently apprehensive that she would lose caste if 
 she allowed a moment to slip by unaccompanied by civili 
 ties, wine, cake, and the like, with which she crowded him, 
 and anon observing that " she had plenty of servants to do 
 the waiting, but they were asleep or away where she could 
 see neither hair nor hide of them, and even if the servants 
 were at hand, it would be more grateful in her to wait upon 
 him herself." Cassel, out of courtesy, partook of the cake 
 and wine, mentally observing, " she is no servant-girl, at 
 all events ; but that does not solve the mystery, it only 
 aggravates it. 1 shall introduce myself as soon as she 
 lets up, and capture her name." But Linda withdrew, 
 requesting Cassel to be amused with the illustrated peri 
 odicals which covered a center-table, until she should 
 return. He was utterly confounded by Linda, who was 
 so entirely out of keeping with her surroundings, for he 
 was unable to connect her with those elegant rooms in 
 which he saw nothing to criticise but misplaced books and 
 newspapers, and too much furniture perhaps. He waited, 
 in anticipation of he knew not what, unless it should be the 
 appearance of some elder member of the family on a thank 
 ing and inspecting expedition. A full half hour passed. 
 Becoming restless, he mentally weighed whether he should 
 expediently take unceremonious leave, or neglect his unim 
 portant engagements in the city, and follow up this, his 
 latest discovery. He inclined to the latter alternative, for, 
 as the moon will, now and anon, peep through the rifts of 
 the banked cloud, so he, by glimpses beyond the van and 
 parade of her tomfoolery, saw that Linda was pure, per 
 fectly sincere, and the most outrageous little ignoramus 
 within all the wide compass of his knowledge and acquaint 
 ance. At the expiration of thirty-five or forty minutes, a
 
 OR CORA GLENCOE. 97 
 
 door opened, and Linda, dressed to the very summit of 
 absurdity, entered and approached Cassel with an air 
 which, with all the screws he could put upon himself, 
 rather got the better of his risibles. In an effort to hide 
 his face, Cassel arose and made a most profound and long- 
 continued bow, to which Linda responded with an equally 
 protracted courtesy, while Cassel's sides shook with sup 
 pressed laughter. But he could not keep his head down all 
 day, notwithstanding that the laugh was in him and was 
 not going to stay there ; so, after maintaining his bow until 
 it was getting to be worse than the alternative, he raised his 
 head and gave out a carol, as free and clear as the neigh of a 
 young wild stallion. Picking up a newspaper over which he 
 had been glancing, he turned to a comic picture, called Lin 
 da's attention to it, and reading the corresponding facetious 
 paragraph, succeeded in making her join him in his merri 
 ment, without suspicion as to its source. She even felt 
 gratified at his appreciation of her center-table literature, 
 and observed that she had laughed, and laughed, and 
 laughed over that very same thing that very morning. 
 She then seated herself with the air of one who was about 
 to entertain a regular and expected visitor. Cassel took 
 this opportunity of introducing himself by name. 
 
 " Law me !" exclaimed Linda, blushing, " I forgot all 
 about the introductions. My name is Mrs. Boyd. It used 
 to be Linda Medley." 
 
 Cassel had, in all his mental roaming, never once con 
 jectured that this young girl was a wife. 
 
 " Is Mr. Boyd in the city ?" he asked, thinking it possi 
 ble that some city man of money, rusticating, had found a 
 wild flower to his liking, and transplanted it. 
 
 " Gracious goodness !" said Linda, " Mr. Boyd has 
 been dead more than a year." 
 
 Cassel remained an hour, during which time Linda told 
 him, artlessly in fact, superstylishly in manner, all her 
 history. When Cassel descended from the front vestibule 
 of the Boyd mansion, he said to himself, 
 
 " She is the sweetest little fool that e'er the sun shone 
 on ha! ha! h-a!" 
 
 A week passed, in which Linda returned numerous old 
 calls, and went a bit into society. But hardly a day went 
 
 9
 
 98 TEKEL, 
 
 down without finding her in tears. She was disappointed 
 utterly. City people w T ere so heartless and supercilious. 
 She could not find congeniality, or a companion. Nothing 
 fell out as she had anticipated. In a company of half 
 a dozen she was of no consequence whatever. The lady 
 at her side would be invited to some select affair, and she 
 be overlooked, slighted. She met with a cold welcome 
 and a warm good-by ; with suspicious, sneering glances ; 
 caught here and there a whisper, or a suppressed titter ; 
 had often to repeat her name to some self-sufficient dame 
 three or four times within the space of half an hour. She 
 had been desolate and lonely enough in the days of her 
 weedhood, but had been buoyed and cheered by anticipa 
 tion of a happy and transforming era ; but now that the 
 era had come, it was a winter succeeding spring, nipping 
 the fruit-buds of her coming pleasures, enjoyments, and 
 worthy deeds of social renown and conspicuity. Her 
 bright dreams faded even as the glory of an evening cloud, 
 and the great city which she had contemplated with awe 
 and wonder, and as containing an exhaustless store of 
 happy, seemly, gorgeous, good, and unimaginable things, 
 became at once a thing to fear, a mingling merely of 
 mercenary millions, whose hearts, to her, were not respon 
 sive, whose stare was shameless, whose words were indif 
 ferent and unfeeling, and whose houses looked cold, 
 mysterious, and unapproachable. Linda did not feel her 
 self to blame, for she was not sensible of her exquisite 
 faults; but she felt keenly that she was not appreciated, 
 not expected, not welcomed, not wanted as a member of 
 coteries, clans, and impromptu knots of confidential, golden 
 gossip. And all in all, the last week of her life in the 
 city was infinitely more painful and disheartening than 
 her first week of mourning. She had bethought herself, 
 aforetime, of returning to Pennsylvania, and she would 
 have done so, had she not, in her ignorance, imagined 
 great difficulties attendant upon an absolute removal, and 
 had she not, in equal ignorance, looked forward to happier 
 and less lonely days. Disappointed and desolate, she was 
 now in a mood to give up the city and all its ungenial 
 brilliants, and go where she knew that the sympathy for 
 which she craved awaited her. But she was not destitute
 
 OR CORA GLENCOE. 99 
 
 of courage, ambition, or perseverance, and she could not, 
 without a sense of cowardice, abandon so abruptly her 
 scheme of life. She had read of heroines who never did 
 give up, but fought their way through dangers, con 
 tumely, and powerful adversaries to the very pinnacle of 
 their ambition and desires, and dictated to those who 
 were wont to trample on them. Linda had proud blood 
 in her veins, but then she was so green, and tender 
 hearted. 
 
 CHAPTER X. 
 
 IT was quite natural that Cassel should desire to see 
 Linda again, and equally as reasonable that he should at 
 once perceive and appreciate her great need of a guardian 
 and honest mentor, and yet more natural that he should 
 imagine himself as competent and fit to stand in relation 
 to her as quasi guardian and actual counselor. 
 
 He therefore went to see Linda, about ten days after 
 his first adventure with her. She was unmistakably glad 
 to see him, for he was the one of all others whom she had 
 met in whose countenance was genuine sunlight, and from 
 whose heart came inspiring warmth. 
 
 Cassel led her to talk of herself, and gradually stole 
 away from her the pomp and phantasmagoria of her crea 
 tive imagination, and reproduced her as what she was, a 
 pretty country lass, to be pitied, and probably to be loved. 
 
 As the negative takes to the positive, Linda was 
 attracted to young Rapid, and in all her innocence and 
 ingenuousness, unbosomed herself to him. In his presence 
 she grew cheerful, and unconsciously a little jaunty, like a 
 sweet young girl who knows her company. She gained 
 his sympathy by word, and eye, and blush, and by the 
 unselfishness of her spoken thoughts. She unreservedly 
 discussed her own affairs, sensible that he could advise 
 her if he would, and doubting not his willingness to do so. 
 Among many things, she stated that she was so very lone 
 some ; that the city people were so stiff and cranky ; that
 
 100 TEKEL, 
 
 she had no pleasure, and did not know how to pass her 
 time. Then the servants were such a bother, and the 
 shopkeepers cheated and imposed on her ; that a wine 
 merchant had sold her wine not a month old, making her 
 believe that the newer the better. That she did not drink 
 wine herself, but kept it for company. That sometimes 
 when she had company she drank it as a hospitable duty, 
 but it always put her in such a good humor that she would 
 nearly kill herself laughing ; and then she would have the 
 headache afterward. 
 
 Cassel could imagine with what gusto a covey of au 
 fait city women might get around this innocent little 
 maid-widow, force her to drink wine through scruples of 
 hospitality, and then tickle her into immoderate screams 
 of countrified laughter. 
 
 " I hardly know what to do with myself," said Linda, 
 with & deep-drawn sigh, and a pensive brow. 
 
 "Don't you find society pleasant?" asked Cassel. 
 
 " They laugh at me," said Linda, with quivering lip. 
 
 Although Cassel had laughed at her himself, he felt his 
 heart rouse within him. Said he, tenderly, 
 
 " Let me be your brother, and let me teach you, and 
 they shall never laugh at you again." 
 
 Linda was taken by surprise. She looked at him wist 
 fully, and asked, 
 
 " Will it be right ?" 
 
 "We will make it right," said Cassel. "I have no 
 kindred, and, like you, I feel the need of sympathy and 
 affection." 
 
 Linda looked at Cassel and thought that one so bright 
 ' and beautiful could have no need, no want, unprovided 
 for. What a luxury it would be to have him for a brother, 
 and give him all her wakeful sympathy and affection ! 
 How infinitely fair and assuring to be within the care of 
 him, with his dauntless pure eyes upon her, his manly 
 arm to shield her, and his refined experience to guide her ! 
 Linda felt that a treasure had been laid at her feet, which 
 she should gather to her bosom and never, never spurn 
 away. 
 
 " Oh, if I could be your sister, and you would not be 
 ashamed of me!" she said with sincere pathos.
 
 OR CORA GLENCOE. 101 
 
 "Ashamed of you I shall never be. You have told me 
 3 r our history, and I recognize all your disadvantages and 
 difficulties. They can be made to melt away as the snow 
 before the sun. A pure heart and a sister's affection is 
 what I want ; I can form the rest. It is not a legion of 
 acquaintances that will make you contented and joyful, 
 but a few chosen, sympathizing, and right-hearted friends." 
 
 Cassel talked Linda into a gay and happy mood. A 
 new vista was opened to her, down which she saw many 
 comely and ambrosial things. Finally Gassel asked, 
 
 " Are you living entirely alone ?" 
 
 "No, sir; Uncle Jesse lives with me." 
 
 "Now tell me all about Uncle Jesse." 
 
 " Well, father sent him up here to live with me, and keep 
 me company ; but he is no company at all. He does no 
 thing but sit in his room, and copy maps and pictures, and 
 write notes on slips of paper. He takes thin paper and 
 puts it over the maps, and then marks off the lines with 
 a pencil." 
 
 " Quite an interesting occupation," said Cassel, with a 
 smile. 
 
 " Then he's so cross," said Linda, pouting. " He some 
 times actually calls me a fool. If he was not my uncle, 
 and poor, I would almost send him away." 
 
 " It is better that he should be here," said Cassel. " He 
 is your only protection." 
 
 " No protection at all," said Linda, laughing, not at what 
 she had said, but at what she was about to say. " Let me 
 tell you about him. A burglar might rummage the whole 
 house and he would never know it, He won't even let me 
 dust his room. He locks me and every one else out of his 
 'study' as he calls it. I went in there once when he was 
 at breakfast, and began to dust the room. He came up and 
 caught me at it. Looking about for something which he 
 instantly seemed to miss, and not being able to find it, he 
 frowned at me, and gritted his teeth at me. Seeing some 
 scraps of paper in my apron, he clawed them out, and shak 
 ing one of the slips at me, said, while he gritted his teeth, 
 
 " ' How dare you take this out of my study ?' 
 
 " ' What account is that ?' I asked. 
 9*
 
 102 TEKEL, 
 
 '"Damn it," said he, almost choking, 'it has an idea 
 on it; a thing which seems never to have entered your 
 head.'" 
 
 Linda laughed gayly, and Cassel amusedly asked, 
 
 " What did you, then ?" 
 
 " I told him it must have been the only one he had or 
 he wouldn't be so outdone about losing it, and then I came 
 away. I didn't want to treat Uncle Jesse disrespectfully, 
 but sometimes he is so provoking, and makes nothing of 
 calling me an idiot, and crazy, and such like. He says that 
 when I visit my parents again he is going to make father 
 keep me there in Pennsylvania ; that I have no business 
 in a city, trying to be what I wasn't made for ; that I ought 
 to be milking cows instead of wearing silk dresses and 
 aping she-monkeys of fashion ; and that when he gets the 
 benefit of about as much of my nonsense as he can stand, 
 he's going to burn the house down and clear out and take 
 me along with him." 
 
 Notwithstanding this terrible array against Uncle Jesse, 
 Cassel had an idea that he would like the old gentleman. 
 
 " Is he a student ?" asked Cassel. " Is he engaged in 
 any scientific or literary pursuit?" 
 
 " I don't know what he's up to," said Linda. " I know 
 that I have paid out three or four hundred dollars for his 
 tories and maps and old atlases, just to gratify him. He 
 says he only looks in the history books for dates, and not 
 for facts ; that he doesn't need anybody's words, but the 
 figures, which won't lie ; and that he can fill up the bal 
 ance with what he calls his regular old wild-hog sense." 
 
 Cassel was rather amused at Linda's portrait of Uncle 
 Jesse. The old gentleman had doubtless become disgusted 
 with his niece on account of her hard-headed efforts to act 
 the fine lady, regarding her as a fashion-ape, and a poor one 
 at that, and probably contented himself with keeping her 
 from actual harm, if so much. But although Linda went 
 to work, as you might say, wrong end foremost, her ambi 
 tion was by no means the ambition of a fool. She was 
 wealthy, and young, and she had a laudable desire to take 
 rank in society as a useful, happy, graceful, recognized mem 
 ber of it, to enjoy and dispense its benefits and pleasures, 
 and be an acknowledged equal wherever she should choose
 
 OR CORA GLEN CO E. 103 
 
 to go ; in all of which she had, at the very outset, been 
 bitterly disappointed and coldly rebuffed, and had fallen 
 back upon sighs and tears, a woman's last alternative. 
 Young Rapid's present visit could not have been more 
 happily timed for Linda ; and she, had she searched the 
 world over, could not have found a truer or more dauntless 
 breast upon which to cast her cares, or a gentler and more 
 competent guide from whom to seek direction. It was for 
 tunate for Linda that Cassel crossed her path so soon after 
 her widow's weeds had perished with their season, for 
 many a one would soon have been on the alert to lead her 
 along the primrose path to bell. But he would never do 
 it. It was not in his nature ; and had it been in his nature, 
 his experience would have stormed against it, for he him 
 self knew of something worse than death, and fit alone to 
 stand in the very gates of hell. To develop Linda into a 
 well-versed, charming, and fashionable young lady, and yet 
 leave her spotless and green-hearted, there was no one who 
 might have better taken the venture than Cassel Rapid. 
 With leisure, and without attachments to preoccupy him, 
 being the last of his race, and homeless, and recognizing 
 Linda's peculiar, desolate, and dangerous condition, he 
 could well make up his mind to fashion her according to 
 the demands of her natural beauty, and purity, and of her 
 fortuitous wealth. He could see no reason, and there was 
 none, why he should not rescuethis little innocent, and gird 
 her with knowledge and experience. At all events, he de 
 termined to undertake it, and make a mission of it. Aside 
 from any other consideration, it would be a delight and a 
 pastime. 
 
 " Will you permit me to visit you freely?" asked Cassel. 
 
 " I would be so glad to have you come," eagerly replied 
 Lin.da. " You are so kind and homelike." 
 
 "What do you mean by homelike?" asked Cassel. 
 
 "I mean," said she guilelessly, "that you have no 
 style." 
 
 Cassel smiled. Linda unconsciously had paid him the 
 highest compliment he had ever received. It was the 
 very perfection of his manner which put her at ease and 
 caused her ignorantly to suppose that he had no style at 
 all. Her conception of style was a mate to that of those
 
 104 TEKEL, 
 
 stage actors who tear a passion all to tatters, and by 
 Hamlet condemned. 
 
 "Have you any intimate friends in the city?" asked 
 Cassel. 
 
 " None that I like," said Linda. 
 
 "Who manages your affairs for you ?" 
 
 "I manage the house myself; Lewis & Capelle are my 
 business agents. They managed for Mr. Boyd before I 
 was married." 
 
 " What are they bankers ?" 
 
 " I don't know. I check on them for money." 
 
 " Have you their street and number?" 
 
 " I can get their card," said Linda, rising. " You can 
 then see what they are and where they keep." 
 
 Linda brought a card, upon which Cassel read " Lewis 
 & Capelle, Bankers and Real Estate Brokers," following 
 which was street, number, etc. 
 
 "Now I must go," said Cassel. 
 
 " When will you come again ?" 
 
 " Will you be glad to see me ?" 
 
 "Indeed I will," said Linda. 
 
 " I will come to-morrow," said Cassel. 
 
 " And what am I to do until then ?" asked Linda, with 
 an expression half pensive, half mischievous. 
 
 " Behave yourself, and let Uncle Jesse's papers alone," 
 answered Cassel with a pleasant laugh. 
 
 When Cassel had gone, Linda became restless. With 
 out knowing anything about him, she had surrendered 
 herself to his keeping. It never entered her head to 
 doubt him, or imagine that it was possible he might 
 deceive and take advantage of her. Not that she was 
 totally deficient of caution or sense of virgin propriety, 
 but his face was the sign-manual of Honor, and in his voice 
 was the harmony of Truth. 
 
 On the next day Cassel returned to the Boyd mansion. 
 Linda was ready and double ready to receive him. With 
 him she forgot her mistaken airs and civilities, or aban 
 doned them from a glimmering sense that they were 
 entirely superfluous. She ceased to importune him with 
 untimely hospitalities in the way of refreshments, discern 
 ing that he did not care for them. She learned to listen,
 
 OR CORA GLENCOE. 105 
 
 and that it was not necessary for ber to busy herself or 
 keep up a ceaseless tongue-clatter to make the time pass 
 pleasantly or properly. She consequently appeared to 
 much better advantage, with the single exception of her 
 excessive attire. 
 
 " I have brought you something," said Cassel, handing 
 Linda a letter. 
 
 " A letter !" cried Linda, springing for it ; and without 
 saying " by your leave," or excusing herself in any way, 
 she broke it open and read it, as Cassel intended she 
 should do. 
 
 "Why, I knew all this before," said Linda, looking up 
 with a countenance upon which was questioning surprise. 
 " What is it for ?" 
 
 " How did you know it?" asked Cassel. 
 
 " How did I know it ? Why, I just knew it," said 
 Linda, laughing. 
 
 " No," said Cassel, " you knew nothing about it. I 
 brought it to you as a testimonial upon which, in the 
 beginning of our acquaintance, you could rely. As we 
 learn each other better, you can then form your own 
 opinion of me." 
 
 The letter was a commendation from Sarazzin & Saraz- 
 zin, and indorsed by Lewis & Capelle, Linda's bankers. 
 
 "And now," continued Cassel, "from this day forward 
 I am to be your brother, and you are to be my little 
 sister." 
 
 Linda blushed with modest pleasure. She said, 
 
 " It seems so strange that you should be so kind to me, 
 and want me for your sister." 
 
 " Why ?" asked Cassel. 
 
 "Because I am not like you, who know everybody, and 
 can go here and there when you please, and be happy, 
 without a thought of me ; and then nobody ever takes any 
 interest in me, and I am so different from everyone here." 
 
 " For those very reasons you need a brother ; and for 
 those reasons I offer you a brother's affection and guid 
 ance. You are a wild flower blooming alone, but none 
 the less sweet and dear to the wayfarer, who would shield 
 you from the nipping frost, the foul breath of the sirocco, 
 and the ruthless tread of the rushing herd. It is not all
 
 106 TEKEL, 
 
 unselfishness in me. The florist cultivates the rose, not 
 from the love of labor or that the bush may merely thrive, 
 but for the pure blush and fragrance which it gives him." 
 
 "I love to hear you talk," said Linda. "You do not 
 talk like other people, and are no more like them than I 
 am. If I am run wild, as you say, please to tame me, and 
 teach me what it is that I must do." 
 
 "We will teach one another," said Cassel, "and begin 
 by making a compact not to be angry or feel hurt with 
 each other." 
 
 "I could not be angry with you," was the confiding 
 reply. 
 
 "I will straightway test your temper," said Cassel. 
 
 " I wonder how," replied Linda. 
 
 "By introducing a very delicate subject. How many 
 dresses have you ?" 
 
 Linda had never been asked such a question by a 
 gentleman, and she was in doubt whether it was a proper 
 question to be asked or Answered. With a little hesita 
 tion, however, she said, 
 
 " I have but six new ones. My black dresses are all 
 laid away. I am to have six more new ones this week." 
 
 " Where did you get those which you have ?" 
 
 "From Madame De Lude." 
 
 "She is properly named," said Cassel, "and has deluded 
 you thereby. Are your other dresses to come from the 
 same place ?" 
 
 "Yes, sir." 
 
 " You must countermand the order." 
 
 "Why?" 
 
 "You are being imposed upon cheated. You have 
 w r orn a different dress each time that I have seen you, and 
 none of them are in vogue, and never have been." 
 
 " How is that ?" asked Linda. 
 
 "Your dresses are not the fashion," said Cassel plainly. 
 
 "They must be," insisted Linda. "They are just 
 finished, and Madame De Lude bragged on them as being 
 almost ahead of the style." 
 
 "Ahead of the style they certainly are," said Cassel, 
 with rather a droll smile, " and so far ahead that I'm 
 afraid the fashion will never catch up with them. But
 
 OR CORA GLEN CO E. 107 
 
 seriously, they are mainly last season's style, altered. 
 Probably second-band dresses thrown off by fashionable 
 ladies, bought up by the mantua-maker, changed a little, 
 and for the worse, and put upon you as the mode, which 
 they are not, either in pattern or make." 
 
 Linda was overthrown. No one except herself knew 
 how long, and with what mental preparation she had been 
 anticipating the exchange of her sad weeds for the unfet 
 tered magnificence of the current brilliant mode, or how 
 she had calculated upon securing the very latest, most 
 exquisite, graceful, and exact style of outfit, or how com 
 placently she was contemplating having done so. And 
 now, when she was conscious of having failed in all her 
 other endeavors, and was only consoling herself with the 
 comforting belief that at all events her dresses were of 
 model tuck and stitch, to be told and convinced, by a 
 gentleman, that she was wearing merely the cast-off trum 
 pery of some gay belle of a gone season, ah ! it was indeed 
 too much. It plunged her into the very Yalley of Humilia 
 tion. Linda was miserable under Cassel's rather free 
 criticisms ; unpardonable they would have been, but that 
 he wixhed her to feel miserable for the moment, and 
 remember and profit by it. She hung her head, rich with 
 golden hair, and buried her face in the cushions of the sofa 
 on which she sat. She was very pretty and desolate 
 where she drooped, and Cassel might have taken her in 
 his arms and consoled her. Instead of which, he urged, 
 
 " Now please do not be angry with me." 
 
 She raised her head. Her face was deeply blushing. 
 With an energetic, self-disdaining air, she said, 
 
 " I am not angry at all. I am ashamed. Uncle Jesse 
 is right when he calls me a fool." 
 
 " Nay, do not be cast down," said Cassel, soothingly 
 and cheerfully. " Your error is not beyond repair." 
 
 " I know you are ashamed of me," said Linda, the tears 
 starting to her eyes. 
 
 " I am ashamed of nothing which is so innocent and 
 fair as my little sister," said Cassel. "It is a matter of 
 no particular importance, only you must not allow this 
 cheat to continue. Your order for the other dresses must 
 be countermanded, with the reason why."
 
 108 TEKEL, 
 
 " But I am afraid of the dressmaker, and would rather 
 pay for them thai) meet her," said Linda. 
 
 " Order your carriage. I will go with you. You need 
 not speak a word. I will manage it myself." 
 
 The carriage was ordered. Cassel and Linda got into 
 it and were driven away. Arrived at Madame De Lude's, 
 they entered the superfashionable establishment. Linda 
 was most charmingly accosted by the female head, who, 
 with a gracious nod to Cassel, said, 
 
 " Ah, Mrs. Boyd ; your last dress is just finished. I 
 was upon the point of sending them around to you." 
 
 " Let me see them, if you please," said Cassel politely. 
 
 " We never admit gentlemen to our dressing-room," said 
 the female head with killing prudery and concealed mis 
 givings. 
 
 " Be kind enough, then, to bring them here," said Cassel. 
 
 After some shuffling back and forth, the dresses were 
 produced. Cassel took one of them, and examined it with 
 the dexterity and eye of a fashionable woman. He took 
 his penknife and ripped a binding. 
 
 " See here," said he to Linda, pointing to the stain of 
 perspiration at the armpits ; " this dress has been worn." 
 
 "You are mistaken, sir," haughtily asserted the female 
 head. 
 
 "Whether I am or not," said Cassel, "it is of last 
 season." 
 
 He picked up one dress after another, and found them 
 all cheats but one, which also would have been had not 
 Linda taken a stubborn fancy to a certain pattern, and re 
 fused to be comforted unless she got it ; refusing to be 
 dictated to and declining advice, as she had not done in 
 respect to the other dresses. 
 
 " Madame," said Cassel, holding up a garment, " here is 
 a walking-dress, the features of which are twelve months 
 old. By mistake you have inserted a width darker by a 
 shade than the original fabric. That would not be much 
 of an objection were it not intended for open day wear. 
 It would probably pass a street lamp without criticism. But 
 it is useless to discuss the dresses. You are even better 
 aware than I am of the objections to them. We cannot 
 accept them."
 
 OR CORA GLENCOE. 109 
 
 Cassel then withdrew Linda from the establishment 
 under a furious fire from the female head. In the carriage 
 Linda said, 
 
 "I would not have gone through with that by myself 
 for anything in the world. I couldn't have done it. How 
 she did get mad !" 
 
 " Let her remain so," said Cassel. " If you do not 
 claim your own, here, you will soon have nothing to 
 claim." 
 
 Cassel took Linda to a more honest establishment, and 
 engaged for her a complete outfit. As Linda's order was 
 unusually comprehensive, the Madame accompanied her 
 and Cassel from door to door, and, between the three 
 pairs of eyes, succeeded in making very elegant and tasty 
 selections ; Linda deferring almost wholly to Cassel and 
 the Madame, the latter of whom observed, 
 
 " You have very good taste, sir, for a gentleman." 
 
 " You compliment me at the expense of my sex," said 
 Cassel. 
 
 " Not at all, sir ; for most of gentlemen pride themselves 
 in not knowing a ribbon from a rolling-pin," gayly replied 
 the Madame. 
 
 When Linda retired to be measured, the Madame, who 
 went with her, coming out of the sanctuary in advance of 
 her, asked of Cassel, 
 ' Is she your sister ?" 
 ' Yes," replied he. 
 
 'She has a splendid form," said the Frenchwoman. 
 ' See that you fit it," enjoined Cassel. 
 ' I'll make her look another sort," was the reply. 
 
 Linda came out, and Cassel took her home. She had 
 been in paradise while selecting, under intelligent guid 
 ance, the rich and innumerable things which went to make 
 up her outfit ; and now that it was over, she would be in 
 a tremor of expectancy until her wardrobe should make 
 its appearance and be tested. 
 
 Cassel called to see Linda every day. She responded 
 so unaffectedly to his kindness that his interest in her 
 was daily on the increase. It gave him joy to give joy to 
 her, and he was beginning to control her, and she to obey, 
 as though they were blood and bone of each other. He 
 
 10
 
 110 TEKEL, 
 
 came in one morning at his usual hour, and Linda met 
 him in an evening-dress, with bare arms and shoulders, 
 which were of a mould fitly to be put on exhibition. 
 
 "Are you not afraid of taking cold?" he asked. 
 
 " No, sir ; it is so pleasant to-day." 
 
 " But that dress will certainly give you cold if you wear 
 it in the morning," said Cassel. 
 
 Linda understood him. She arose with some confusion 
 and was about to withdraw and change her dress, when 
 Cassel said, 
 
 " No. Do not go to that trouble now. It is not ne 
 cessary. I came this morning on a special errand. I 
 have not seen a servant, except the bell-maid, and her but 
 now and then, since my first morning with you. Where 
 are they ?" 
 
 "In the basement, I suppose." 
 
 " How many do you keep ?" 
 
 "Let me see; there's the cook, the washwoman, two 
 chambermaids, coachman, marketinan, and errand-boy." 
 
 " What do they do ?" 
 
 " I do not know," said Linda. 
 
 " Two women and a man are all that you can possibly 
 need. Why don't you discharge them ?" 
 
 " I'm afraid of them," said Linda ; " and then I was told 
 that all nice families keep as many." 
 
 " The nicest families in the city keep no more servants 
 than they have use for. They are like bad debts the 
 fewer you have the better. Show me the way to your 
 basement. I'll go down there and see what I can do for 
 you." 
 
 " You had better not go alone, because the marketman 
 is as impudent as he can be." 
 
 "He is the first one whom I mean to discharge," said 
 Cassel, " for you have no more use for him than I have 
 for a chignon." 
 
 Linda laughed, but with some apprehension led Cassel 
 to the head of the stairs which descended into the basement. 
 He went down, and remained about ten minutes. When 
 he returned, Linda anxiously asked him what he had 
 done. 
 
 " I discharged all but the coachman, the cook, and an-
 
 OR CORA OLENCOE. HI 
 
 other woman, who will do the washing, chamber-work, 
 and answer the bell. Those three I put on call from six 
 o'clock in the morning until nine o'clock at night. Your 
 coachman is to act as messenger, and make himself generally 
 useful. The marketman wouldn't be convinced until I 
 knocked him down." 
 
 " Did you knock him down ?" 
 
 "I did. He was insolent without provocation, for I 
 treated them all with consideration. What do you sup 
 pose they were doing when I went down ? Eating break 
 fast, and it's now eleven o'clock 1 And a very fine table 
 they spread of it, indulging even in breakfast wine, at 
 your expense, of course," and Cassel laughed at Linda, 
 who blushed and laughed also, for she was glad that her 
 affairs were being corrected. " I paid those whom I dis 
 charged, whether rightly or wrongly I do not know, and 
 I'm sure you don't ; so let it go. I will collect from you 
 whenever convenient. Are your new dresses delivered 
 yet ?" 
 
 " No, sir, but I get some of them to-morrow." 
 
 " On to-morrow then I shall have a proposition to make." 
 
 " Make it now," said Linda ; " it will tease me so to 
 wait." 
 
 " Very well. We will take a carriage drive to one of the 
 parks. It is to be a gala-day, and you will have an oppor 
 tunity of seeing a little st} T le." 
 
 " I know I shall enjoy it," said Linda affectionately. " I 
 have had no one to take me anywhere." 
 
 " I know it. You would be lost at the turning of the 
 next corner. But good-by ; I am rather busy to-day. 
 Run away now and change your dress." 
 
 Linda obeyed like a happy child.
 
 112 TEKEL, 
 
 CHAPTER XI. 
 
 WHEN Cassel called in the morning, Linda came in 
 smiling, and blushing from consciousness. 
 
 "Why, little sister," said Cassel blithely, "you are so 
 very lovely this morning. What has happened to you ?" 
 
 " I have on one of my new dresses," she replied, with 
 innocence and ardor. " They are all done, and so nice and 
 sweet. I am so much indebted to you for your care." 
 
 Linda was really beautiful. She had a fine elastic form, 
 and when she moved without assumed airs and paces, and 
 without confusion, she displayed the natural and undula- 
 ting'grace of the silver-footed wild gazelle. Cassel felt a 
 twinge at his heart for having ticketed her as his sister 
 merely. But then he could overleap the brother mark, if 
 he would, at a single bound. 
 
 " I came to tell you to be ready within half an hour for 
 our drive. I will call for you with a carriage." 
 
 " Why not take my carriage ?" asked Linda. 
 
 " Because your horses are not carriage animals. They 
 are draft horses, and we must exchange them. I know 
 what a horse is, and will look out for proper ones, and 
 make you up a handsome pair, suitable for the city." 
 
 In half an hour Cassel returned with a well-appointed 
 turn-out. Linda in the mean while had dressed herself 
 anew; but Cassel, on sight of her, cried, 
 
 " Oho, birdie ; that dress will never do for the carriage. 
 Run and get the one with the spots on it about the size of 
 a mouse's ear, and bring your light shawls." 
 
 Linda tripped away as if heeding a brother's chidings, 
 her heart overflowing with happiness, and her thoughts 
 crowded with anticipation. She very soon reappeared 
 with the proper dress on, and with an armful of shawls, 
 which she spread upon a large sofa. 
 
 " Which shall it be ?" she asked, with perfect confidence 
 in Cassel's discretion. 
 
 " Exercise your taste," said Cassel.
 
 OR CORA GLENCOE. ]13 
 
 With some hesitation and diffidence she made a selection, 
 and said, 
 
 " I like this best." 
 
 "You are correct ; it is the best for this occasion. Now 
 let me put it on you d, la mode, that is, according to the 
 present approved style," and Cassel adjusted her shawl, 
 and pinned it where he wished it to stay. 
 
 " How do you know about all of these things ?" asked 
 Linda, who had her back toward him. 
 
 A sudden and sweeping change came over Cassel's face. 
 He turned away with a frown so terrible and an eye so 
 fierce, that he scarce recognized himself in the mirror at 
 his side. Cassel once had a sister. 
 
 "Now for your hat," said he, not replying to her ques 
 tion, while the light of his eyes' fierce gleaming, which had 
 momentarily banished their customary and genial holiday 
 glow, subsided, smouldered, and died out. 
 
 "I have not a single hat; nothing but bonnets and 
 hoods," said Linda. 
 
 "We must have a hat," said Cassel. "A sudden de 
 scent upon some fashionable milliner is now in order." 
 
 " But what shall I wear to the milliner's ?" 
 
 "Nothing," said Cassel, pleasantly. 
 
 " What ! Go upon the street bareheaded !" 
 
 "Why not? You will be in the carriage ; and did you 
 never go bareheaded in the country ?" 
 
 " Yes, sir. But here in the city ?" 
 
 "There's not so much difference as you imagine. You are 
 nobody's slave, to be made to do this or that. You have 
 freedom here, as well as in the woods. Look now, out at 
 this window. Do you see that young miss tripping along, 
 bareheaded, swinging her hat by the ribbon, and just in 
 time to furnish me with an illustration ? It so happens 
 that I know her family, one of the best born and wealthiest 
 in the city. She is well bred, and knows her steps, and 
 yet she trips with hat off. Why ? Because the day is 
 warm, she is on the shady side of the street, and it suits 
 her mood and pleasure not to wear her hat. She is but 
 a girl, it is true ; but when she becomes a young lady, she 
 will never depend upon Mrs. Jones for her walk, Mrs. 
 Brown for her bow, Mrs. Tinker for her attitudes, or upon 
 
 10*
 
 114 TEKEL, 
 
 anybody's smirk for her smile. However, as you are not 
 a school-miss, you might wind a veil about your head 
 until we get to the milliner's. But I want you to notice 
 particularly, as we go, that nobody will take an observa 
 tion as to whether you have anything on your head or 
 not; and should they, it would only be because your head 
 
 is so pretty, and " 
 
 " There 1" said Linda, "my hair is all down; and it 
 will take me a quarter of an hour to fix it." 
 
 Cassel, while adjusting Linda's shawl, bad pulled out 
 all of her hairpins, and her hair, relaxing from its abun 
 dant coil, fell about her shoulders. 
 
 " No," said he. " I can arrange it in one moment," 
 and he shook it into a showery golden fleece. Linda 
 looked into a mirror, and protestingly said, 
 " Why, it makes me look as wild as the woods." 
 " And most vexatiously bewitching," said Cassel. " Come 
 along now, and let your hair alone ; you couldn't improve 
 it with a day's effort before the glass." 
 
 At the milliner's, a tasty hat, with a plume, was tied 
 upon the young widow's pretty head, and Cassel felt that 
 he would not be willing to exchange companions w r ith any 
 one. To the park they smoothly rolled along, and Cassel 
 took occasion to lecture upon every salient point in view. 
 "The best-bred people," said he, "are the most moderate 
 people in the world. They never overdo. (Driver, go 
 to the right, and drive slowly.) Look you now, my little 
 sylvan, at that handsome carriage, with the gray horses, 
 standing there. The occupants are Mr. Withe, his wife, 
 and his daughter. Everything about them is rich and 
 elegant, but not glaring, or in gaudy colors. Miss Withe 
 is trimmed pretty much as you are. You will notice that 
 they talk as easily and quietly to the gentleman on horse 
 back as though they had met him on a country road, and 
 no one but themselves were present ; whereas there are 
 fifty pairs of eyes now leveled at them. The gentleman, 
 you will see, sits a little sidewise on his horse, as a man 
 might sit who had met a neighbor on the highway, and 
 was exchanging gossip or bargaining for corn. The atti 
 tude of the two ladies is most comfortable and natural, 
 and as unconcerned as though they were at home in the
 
 OR CORA QLENCOE. 115 
 
 family room. You might imagine that they have no 
 style ; and yet they are counted of the very best style in 
 the city. Were I to present you to them, you would feel 
 at ease in a moment; whereas, should I put you in among 
 the apes, you would be very uncomfortable indeed. They 
 would kill you off with their overcoming nonsense and 
 sweeping importance. But turn this way. There goes a 
 carriage full of what are called high-flyers. They are 
 rich, only, and thereby vain. See them bowing them 
 selves into double-bow-knots, laughing immoderately at 
 their own wit, dispensing honey-dripping smiles, or super 
 cilious stares ; attracting merely the attention of the idle, 
 exciting the disgust of well-bred people, and the admira 
 tion of fools. Helter-skelter! look there, following them; 
 and burlesquing them to perfection, male and female ; a 
 stable groom exercising livery horses, and airing his Dul- 
 cinea. See how the fellow noses the air, as a running 
 pointer would snuff an atmospheric scent. An El Paso 
 Indian would take them for prince and princess; but look 
 at that newsboy, with his finger to his nose, and one foot 
 raised in derisive ' all hail.' The stable groom glories 
 in the wake which he follows, and is enjoying himself at 
 the expense of the high-flyers, whom he can readily dis 
 tinguish from the thoroughbreds. Here is another picture. 
 See that glittering turn-out, and the nonchalant pair 
 exquisitely languishing and lolling. Notice the extraor 
 dinary display of jewelry, the woman's gaudy fan, the 
 man's indolent cigar, and look of sleepy disdain. The 
 man is a professional gambler, and conducts what is called 
 a ' hell.' The woman, whose cheeks owe their color to 
 paint, may be his wife, and as likely may not be. They 
 are beyond the pale of good society. See yonder ; a sward 
 cotillon party; youth enjoying itself, like kids upon the 
 lawn, and as unconstrainedly as your father's lambkins 
 out in Pennsylvania. I might show you pictures until the 
 sun went down ; but you shall have other opportunities to 
 look and learn. These things are all new to you ; metro 
 politan society is new to you ; and it is natural that you 
 should lack confidence coequally with your inexperience, 
 and not know what to expect, or what is expected of you, 
 when thrown with these veterans of social turmoil. Not
 
 116 TEE EL, 
 
 to excite your vanity, but to sow the seeds of confidence 
 in you, I will assure you, that during our drive, so far, I 
 have not seen a lovelier or more stylish-looking girl, or 
 one more tastefully dressed, or who has behaved in better 
 manner, than my own little golden-haired sister by my 
 side. And do you know the reason ? It is this. You 
 have laid aside your assumed mannerism, which you have 
 dreadfully and mistakenly learned, and appeared simply 
 as Linda. Always be Linda, pure and simple, and never 
 enter upon anything which you do not in part compre 
 hend ; I mean, never attempt to repeat a lesson until you 
 have learned it. You saw that handsome young fellow 
 stoop from his horse and whisper to me while we were 
 driving slowly? What do you suppose he said? He 
 asked me what beautiful little bud this was in the carriage 
 with me. And what think you I told him ? That you 
 were my little sister, from the country. 'You selfish 
 fellow,' said he, 'she is city bred.' Now think of Claude 
 Melnotte, as his acquaintances call him, one of the most 
 fastidious and discriminating young gentlemen of New 
 York, asserting that you are a genuine city bud. From 
 this, you^can judge how well and correct you appear, 
 when you do not try to appear well. That fact should 
 not make you vain and sufficient, but encourage you not 
 to lay aside your natural loveliness for the unlovely style 
 of anybody. Do you know what you are, right now ? 
 You are a delightful little country girl, recently come to 
 the city to learn what cannot be learned in the country. 
 There are thousands just such, but you are the only one I 
 ever saw without guide or protector ; without some one to 
 lead you intelligently, and assist you here and there to 
 discover and comprehend. You have much to learn, and 
 you cannot learn it all at once. You must take it gradu 
 ally ; for you are young, and have plenty of time. Although 
 you live in a great city, which appears to go, day in and 
 day out, by compass and rule, it is by no means a social 
 martinet, whose rigid and minute behests you are to obey 
 with utmost precision, but the indulgent mother of innu 
 merable children, who can run and play in their own 
 fashion, preserving only a degree of congruity, and neither . 
 expected nor desired to be all alike, or imitators of badlv-
 
 OR CORA GLENCOE. 117 
 
 conceived and self-appointed models. There is an indi 
 viduality about every person which renders it impossible 
 for Linda ever to become Lucinda or Clorinda, though she 
 should spend a lifetime in perverting herself to that end : 
 and furthermore, it is easier and far more distinguished to 
 be a good original than to be a copy, whether good or bad. 
 You are fortunate in two respects : firt, in having so little 
 to unlearn ; second, in possessing a native capacity for 
 pure, well-toned, and unaffected society. With a guide, a 
 few hints, a little restraint here, and a little urging there, 
 you will, almost before you know it, be at home in the 
 city, and as free and happy as when gathering nuts, or 
 climbing cherry-trees, away in Pennsylvania. But you 
 must accustom yourself to do your own thinking, notwith 
 standing your guide ; and endeavor to look not only upon 
 the surface, but into the deep of everything around you. 
 When you are perplexed, or need advice, or assistance of 
 any kind, always come to 'brother,' and he will take pride 
 and pleasure in aiding you. But let there be a limit to 
 your confidence even in me, your brother ; for I cannot 
 stand to you as a mother or a father, and it is better, 
 always better, especially for a girl like you, to hold a 
 certain reserve of trust, which, like the bullion held by the 
 banks, is the basis of security, and reputation." 
 
 " I feel that I could trust you without the reserve which 
 you recommend," said Linda. 
 
 "Don't do it, 1 ' said Cassel ; " for the heart of man is de 
 ceitful above all things and desperately wicked. That is 
 a passage of Scripture the truth of which is universally 
 admitted by Christian and alike by Pagan. But I have lec 
 tured enough for one day. I am coming now to a scheme 
 which I have in my mind, and which, if carried out, Avill be 
 a better school for you than all the teachings of which I am 
 capable. Listen, and I will state it in full and particular. 
 You say that you are lonesome ; and I am not surprised at 
 it. I could introduce you into city society to-day, or to 
 morrow, but you would be doing yourself an injustice, with 
 out some preparatory training, to adventure it. Here is 
 my scheme. You have a great deal more house than you 
 need. You have room for at least ten persons additional 
 to your present family, and without inconvenience. We
 
 118 TEKEL, 
 
 will say that you take, as guests, self-supporting of course, 
 a few ladies and a few gentlemen, of unexceptionable 
 merit and connection, and who themselves visit and re 
 ceive freely. They could be readily obtained, and made 
 to comprehend your object, which would be to collect 
 about you a goodly company, a little colony of refined and 
 cultivated people, who would intermingle pleasantly, and 
 make you their queen and darling. Your house would 
 then be lighted from cellar to garret, and your home be 
 full of life and cheerfulness. In a single month you would 
 become more capable of the outer world than in a lifetime 
 spent as now." 
 
 Linda was fascinated. She wondered why she had not 
 thought of it before. She adopted the scheme at once 
 and eagerly. 
 
 " Do not be in any haste," said Cassel, " or you will 
 get company which you may repent of. I expect to aid 
 you, and to come live with you myself." 
 
 " You are to come, of course," said Linda, " or I should 
 be dreadfully amiss in everything." 
 
 " Leave the matter, then, entirely to my arrangement, 
 and I will make your house so cheerful that you will 
 almost wish to move out of it," said Cassel gayly. " I 
 will get companions for you, such as you need. I have 
 several in my mind at this moment, who will be glad to 
 come, and whom you cannot fail to like. But the sun is 
 almost set, and we had best go home." 
 
 Arrived at the Boyd mansion, Linda timidly asked, 
 
 " Would it be proper for me to invite you to tea with 
 Uncle Jesse and myself?" 
 
 "Nothing more proper in you, or more agreeable to 
 me," said Cassel, who felt like chucking her under the 
 chin, for she looked so absolutely free from guile and self- 
 assertion. "And now that we are here, I am going to 
 get you to show me over your house." 
 
 " Do you wish to see it ?" said Linda brightly. " You 
 can then tell me if I need anything. Come." 
 
 As they went over the mansion, Cassel made his obser 
 vations. 
 
 "Your parlors and first floor are just a little over 
 crowded with furniture. You can have some of the
 
 OR CORA GLENCOE. 119 
 
 articles moved up-stairs. I'll tell you which. Here, on 
 your second floor, you have two connecting rooms. I 
 already know a family to occupy them, a gentleman, his 
 wife, and two young daughters. Ah," said Cassel, peeping 
 into a large apartment which looked upon the street, 
 " here is my room. Please remember, for it is exactly 
 what I want." 
 
 " You shall have your choice," said Linda. Where she 
 stood, mainly on one foot, while tapping the floor with 
 her other little boot, she was so very pretty, and fresh, 
 and fair, and uninvaded, that Cassel was almost tempted 
 to take every room in the house at one grab, with Linda 
 in the choicest of them, and probably would have done so, 
 but for a secret fare within his heart which brooked no 
 other flame. 
 
 " These rooms here," he continued, " are suitable for 
 young ladies. On our third floor we will put our single 
 gentlemen, should we have any." 
 
 " Are you not single ? asked Linda." 
 
 " Yes. But I am to help you manage, and must be 
 convenient to all parts of the house. You must not call 
 me Mr. Rapid any more, but brother, and then we will 
 feel so easy and at home together." 
 
 "What will you call me?" asked Linda. 
 
 " Sister, and Linda, and little Sylvan, until I make you 
 to become a little urban, about which time I expect you 
 will be taking some other name, and I will have to ex 
 change them all for that one." 
 
 Linda blushed. She bad no thought of marrying, for 
 she did not know what it was to be a lover. Cassel could 
 have taught her in the three magic words "I love thee," 
 but as he had never spoken except as a brother, the little 
 volcano of her heart was asleep, and she felt that it would 
 be the complement of happiness to have him for a brother, 
 now and always. 
 
 " I want no name but Linda," she said. " You can 
 always call me Linda, and sister, if you will always be 
 my brother ; but I dream at night that you have gone 
 away, and I wake myself with my own sobbing." 
 
 "You find me on hand in the morning," said Cassel. 
 
 " Yes ; but then I fear at night that my dreams are true.
 
 120 TEKEL, 
 
 No one cares for me but you. In the day my heart aches 
 with joy, as if it were too full. At night it aches with 
 fear, and is bleak and empty." 
 
 " Linda, do you ever say your prayers ?" 
 
 " Yes, sir." 
 
 "Then, in the night, when it is so silent that you can 
 hear your watch ticking off the time, do not think of me, 
 or let your peace hang upon a thing so slight and evanes 
 cent as I, or my existence. You overprize me. I do not 
 wish to weigh so heavily against your individuality and 
 life mission. I shall not leave you, you little dove;- but 
 do not suffer me to become the corner-stone of your tran 
 quillity, for to-morrow I might die, or, as all humanity is 
 prone, do that which might shatter your hopes where they 
 cling. Do you ever go to church ?" 
 
 " I have no one to take me, and I should be lost there." 
 
 "To-morrow is Sunday. I will call, and we will go 
 together." 
 
 Tea was announced, and Linda invited Casset to the 
 supper-room, where she presided with charming abashment. 
 Uncle Jesse, a caustic, fool-hating, have-my-ovvn-way 
 looking old bachelor, whom Cassel had never before met, 
 walked into the supper-room with an air which said as 
 plainly as the nose on his face, " / stand no nonsense." 
 
 Linda accomplished the introductions, and Cassel made 
 some pleasant remark, to which Uncle Jesse replied with 
 a " Humph." 
 
 During tea, Linda told Uncle Jesse of her happy day's 
 drive, and of her projected scheme of gathering a select 
 company of permanent guests at the Boyd mansion. Her 
 prattle lasted until Uncle Jesse had swallowed his tea. 
 His only reply, as he arose and started for his den, was 
 " Twad," by which he meant " twaddle," and immediately 
 he disappeared, gritting his teeth. 
 
 "Now don't you see what he is?" protested Linda, 
 with a pensive humor in her face. 
 
 " I like him," said Cassel, laughing freely. " He's a 
 gem. Just the kind of uncle for you. Leave me to bring 
 him around." 
 
 "Maybe, after all, I am accountable for his strange 
 ways, disgusting him with my simpleton's doings," said
 
 OR CORA GLENCOE. 121 
 
 Linda, and she and Cassel laughed merrily at the too 
 probable truth of her remark. 
 
 In the morning, which was the Sabbath, Cassel called 
 to take Linda to church. 
 
 " What shall I wear ?" was Linda's first inquiry. 
 
 " Your blue silk; and over it your lace shawl. I will 
 adjust the shawl for you." 
 
 "Please do not pull my hair down again." 
 
 " No ; it does very well as it is." 
 
 " Where are you going ?" asked Linda, as Cassel stepped 
 to the hall and started up-stairs. 
 
 " To see Uncle Jesse," said Cassel, smiling. 
 
 " Goodness gracious ! you had better not stir Mm up 
 now" cried Linda, with eyes wide open ; but Cassel 
 laughed pleasantly, and proceeded to knock at Uncle 
 Jesse's door. The old gentleman opened his door, and 
 looked at Cassel with harsh surprise. 
 
 "Good-morning, Uncle Jesse." 
 
 " Who told you to uncle me, sir ?" 
 
 " I do so out of respect, I assure you." 
 
 " What do you want ?" 
 
 " Permission to accompany your niece to church." 
 
 Uncle Jesse looked at Cassel almost askance, while 
 over his harsh features came a faint expression of abated 
 severity. 
 
 " Go 'long," and he shut his door. 
 
 At church, the sweep of the grand organ, and the rich 
 and soaring of voices the choir, overwhelmed Linda, and 
 thrilled her through and through. She trembled with 
 excitement, and in her wakefulness to all that was about 
 her, looked as wild as a young chamois. 
 
 " How did you like it ?" asked Cassel on their way 
 home. 
 
 " It almost killed me with with I don't know what." 
 
 "Would you like to attend regularly ?" 
 
 " Yes, sir. I did not know there was such a such a 
 grand place in the world." 
 
 " There are churches of much more imposing grandeur 
 than this one ; but you must remember that they are all 
 humble gateways to the world beyond. The pew which 
 we occupied was mine, but I have transferred it to you. 
 
 11
 
 122 TEKEL, 
 
 A pew at church is considered by many to be essential to 
 respectability, if not to salvation, especially among your 
 sex." 
 
 " You are so good," said Linda. 
 
 "No, I am not. But I wish you to be." 
 
 "I will be, if you will-teach me how." 
 
 " I will point you the way, but mine is not the un 
 erring judgment which you must obey, or the invincible 
 arm on which you must lean." 
 
 " When we came out of church, the streets looked so 
 strange, and worldly, and heedless." 
 
 " Yes. You saw people hurrying to dinner as if their 
 salvation depended upon hot soup." 
 
 " Is a theater anything like these city churches ?" 
 
 " No. But you shall see and judge for yourself. To 
 morrow night I will take you to see a most excellent play, 
 well rendered." 
 
 " Is it a proper place for me to go ? But I need not 
 ask, for you would not go yourself if it were an improper 
 place." 
 
 Cassel smiled at Linda's guilelessness, but it was a smile 
 of increasing affection, not one of ridicule. He said, 
 
 " You have determined to lead a metropolitan life ; 
 therefore you must know what it is that you are inhabit 
 ing. There are some gems among the innumerable bau 
 bles upon the stage, and where we shall go to-morrow 
 night you will find the pomp and array of wealth, a 
 chaste and thrilling entertainment, and an opportunity of 
 enlarging your stock of ideas. Generally, theater-going 
 is not good ; selectedly, it is profitable and instructive. I 
 intend to take Uncle Jesse along with us," humorously 
 concluded Cassel. 
 
 " Uncle Jesse /" exclaimed Linda. "Impossible! But 
 what shall I wear?" asked the girl-widow, abruptly 
 changing the subject. Cassel laughed heartily. 
 
 " Oh, that ever-recurring and vexatious question," said 
 he. " But lose no sleep, Linda; you are provided. For 
 a dress, your white foulard with the black fringe and 
 velvet bows. I will send around a hair-dresser to curl 
 your hair. For a head-dress, all you need is a pair of 
 sugar-tongs with a humming-bird's feather just a little
 
 OR CORA QLENCOE. 123 
 
 drooping. I intend to make more than one person envy 
 me, and ask what little -golden head it is by my side." 
 
 Cassel's object was not to flatter Linda, but to make 
 her feel intrinsically at par with all the world, for he in 
 tended soon to take her into Society. She was now as wax 
 in his hands. She regarded him as the monarch of cir 
 cumstances everything seemed so facile and right with 
 him. When under his pure eye, and hearing his rich, soft 
 voice, she teemed with delight and contentment. He 
 could flood her heart with joy as easily as the Mexican 
 irrigates his little pedazo de tierra. 
 
 The next morning, Cassel, who had got an inkling of 
 what Uncle Jesse was "up to," appeared at the old gentle 
 man's door with an armful of the quaintest, as well as of 
 the newest, maps which he could find in the city. In less 
 than ten minutes he and Uncle Jesse were closeted to 
 gether, and the ensuing evening found the old gentle 
 man ensconced, with Linda and Cassel, in a box at the 
 theater. The fact was, Uncle Jesse was about as near 
 lost in the city as was Linda, and only needed such a 
 cicerone as Cassel to make him as adventurous as a night- 
 cat and as gay as a badger. 
 
 At the theater, Linda's cheeks glowed, her budded 
 bosom heaved, and her bright eyes gleamed with the pas 
 sion of the play, and Uncle Jesse cut his tobacco with the 
 rapidity of a sheep chewing up sweet daisies in the spring. 
 During the play, an old gentleman, crusty as frozen and 
 double-frozen snow, appeared on the stage, and, with a 
 single harsh word, testily and with amusing eccentricity 
 "cut" every one who dared to approach him. Linda, re 
 ferring to the caustic actor before the scenes, turned to 
 her uncle and said, 
 
 " Uncle Jesse, that's you." 
 
 The delighted old gentleman roared with laughter, and 
 the benches taking their cue from the boxes, the whole 
 house indulged in a crashing storm of mirth. 
 
 " See what a fuss you've kicked up," said Cassel mis 
 chievously to Uncle Jesse, who subsided at once. 
 
 "Who did you say this young fellow is who brought us 
 here?" asked Uncle Jesse in a whisper. 
 
 "It is Mr. Cassel Rapid, of the city," replied Linda.
 
 124 TEKEL, 
 
 " Well, I can say this much for you," continued Uncle 
 Jesse : " he's the only person you ever took up with in 
 New York that's got any sense." 
 
 Linda thought that her uncle was saying a good deal 
 for Cassel but not much for her. But she didn't care ; 
 she was happy. 
 
 "Brother," said Linda, blushing at the affectionate 
 word even in the twilight of the carriage while on their 
 way home from the theater, " what are you going to do 
 for me next ?" 
 
 "Uncle Jesse," said Cassel, replying indirectly to Linda's 
 question, "I am going to teach her how to dance." 
 
 " She used to dance with the best of them," responded 
 the now tractable Uncle Jesse. 
 
 "Nothing but cotillons," said Linda. 
 
 " That is enough," said Cassel ; " for beyond the Cotil 
 lon, innocence and propriety are said not to remain 
 intact." 
 
 "I always thought there was something wrong about 
 these hug-dances," said Uncle Jesse, " and we agree. I 
 was just telling Linda here that you were the only per 
 son she ever took up with that had any sense." 
 
 Cassel couldn't resist the impulse to pinch Linda's arm, 
 and the two youths laughed merrily at Uncle Jesse's 
 discretion. 
 
 CHAPTER XII. 
 
 ONE morning a jeweler called at the Boyd mansion, 
 and succeeded in selling Linda a set of what he stated to 
 be "genuine Indian Ocean Luna Lustre Pearls," for 
 which she gave her check on Lewis & Capelle for four 
 hundred dollars. 
 
 The jeweler left, and in a few moments Linda was 
 standing before a parlor mirror, adjusting and admiring 
 her pearls, when Cassel Rapid came suddenly in upon 
 her.
 
 OR CORA GLENCOE. 125 
 
 " Vanity of vanities !" he exclaimed. " Whoever in 
 vented the mirror should be canonized by the ladies. But 
 what have you there ?" 
 
 " A set of new pearls ; the genuine Indian Ocean Luna 
 Lustres," said Linda, with euthusiasm. "And the jew 
 eler let me have them at cost price in Europe. He is 
 going back to France for a new stock, and these were all 
 he had unsold, and he did not wish to take them back 
 with him." 
 
 " Let me look at them." 
 
 Linda passed the pearls, which were in fact nothing 
 but wax, over to Cassel. A little darkey down South once 
 observed, that " alligators chaw a feller all up." Cassel 
 looked at Linda as if he would as willingly as not imitate 
 the manner of the alligator, and chaw her up. 
 
 " Why, you little goosey of a goose!" said he, taking the 
 Luna Lustres and crushing them in his palm as he might 
 have done so many humming-bird eggs. 
 
 Linda was terrified. She saw at once that she had 
 been swindled, and she was very unhappy to think that 
 Cassel would condemn her as an incorrigible fool. 
 
 " Come here," said he, and he led her into an ante 
 room, where he put on a disguise which he had borrowed 
 from the office of Hector O'Dare, and, to Linda's amaze 
 ment, the jeweler stood before her. 
 
 "Little sister, this is caution number one. Until you 
 grow wiser, let your motto be, 'never trust a stranger.' 
 I hope I shall not have to repeat my lessons." 
 
 " Brother," said Linda, despondently, " you will never 
 be able to make any more out of me than a monkey." 
 
 " Then I'll make a very nice little monkey of you," 
 laughed Cassel. " But now to business. To-morrow I 
 will bring you a cook, a man cook." Linda opened her 
 eyes. She had never heard of such a thing. " He is to 
 control your basement. I shall also bring you a house 
 keeper, a respectable woman, who will take charge of the 
 house above the basement. You will then be prepared to 
 receive your guests, and have leisure for improving your 
 self. On the day after to-morrow I shall introduce, as 
 guests, Mr. Lake, his wife, and their two daughters, one 
 fourteen and the other about five years of age. The 
 
 11*
 
 ] 26 TEKEL, 
 
 family are unexceptionable, and have had the advantages 
 of travel. With Mrs. Lake you will be at home almost as 
 with your mother. She is both competent and willing to 
 teach and advise you. They will occupy the double 
 rooms on the second floor." 
 
 "When are you coming?" asked Linda. 
 " On the same day. I see you have plenty of stable 
 room for my two horses. I will keep them here. Your 
 carriage horses were too heavy ; I have traded them off. 
 You now have a matched pair of elegant equine antelopes, 
 as vain, and prancing, and high-headed, though not so 
 hard-hearted, as young belles." 
 
 "You think of everything," said Linda, pouting with 
 self-disdain. "I am no account at all." Then brighten 
 ing a little, Linda added, " But, brother, I had a visitor 
 yesterday." 
 
 'Who was it?" 
 
 ' Mrs. Colver. Is she of the ton ?" 
 
 ' What do you know about ton ?" 
 
 ' But she was so easy to entertain." 
 
 'And consequently you thought she was nobody. 
 There is just where you mistake it altogether. It is the 
 genuine dollar, and not the counterfeit, which brings its 
 own welcome and makes its stay untiring. But I will 
 show you what Mrs. Colver is to-night. She gives a 
 large party this evening. I have an invitation from her 
 for you. You are to go, and I am -to go with you, if you 
 will. I promise that you will see sights." 
 
 " Then her call was a made-up thing between you ?" 
 suggested Linda, with some penetration. 
 
 In the evening Cassel was with his young protegee, 
 assisting her to perfect her toilet before one of the parlor 
 mirrors of the Boyd mansion. 
 
 At Mrs. Colver's, Linda was dazzled ; but Cassel kept 
 her upon his arm until he had explored the novelty with 
 her, and given her a clear, synoptic idea of what she saw. 
 The music was excellent, and Cassel, who danced well, 
 but had not indulged himself for a couple of years, took 
 Linda out upon the floor and put her most ravishingly 
 through a set of cotillons. Linda thrilled with pleasure 
 from top to toe, and with the buoyancy of opening, charm-
 
 OR CORA GLEN COS. 127 
 
 ing life, felt as if floating and swimming upon some 
 ambrosial tide. Several young gentlemen sought intro 
 ductions to her, and soon discerning how guileless and 
 sweet she was, took especial delight in keeping her under 
 a shower of joy. 
 
 Late in the evening, Linda was sitting with a young 
 lady upon a sociable, in distinct view, there being no other 
 persons near. Cassel was perambulating with a haughty 
 belle, who, by-the-way, was somewhat affected toward 
 him, and secretly jealous of his interest in Linda. She 
 knew as well as any one who Linda was, but in her 
 imperious, depreciating way, she asked of Cassel, while 
 she glanced toward the sociable, 
 
 " What silly thing is that sitting over there ?" 
 
 Cassel divined with what this shaft was tipped, and he 
 determined instantly to turn it back upon its haughty 
 launcher. 
 
 "Why, that is your sister," said he innocently. 
 
 "Oh, no! I mean the girl beside her." 
 
 "I beg your pardon," said Cassel. "I mistook your 
 reference, the girls are so close together, and I didn't 
 observe anything peculiar about the other one, who is my 
 sister." 
 
 CassePs companion bit her lip, and almost stamped upon 
 the floor, at what was to her an intolerable thrust. She 
 soon requested to be seated. Cassel resigned her, saying 
 to himself, " She forced me to be rude. Linda is worth 
 more than she in every particular. She has nothing to 
 uphold her but wealth, which is more often inherited by 
 the fool than by the sage, and far more often acquired by 
 the knave than the honest person? Let her keep her silly 
 sister away from Linda, and her silly remarks away from 
 me." 
 
 " Linda," asked Cassel, on their way home, " which do 
 you enjoy the most, the church, the theater, or the 
 party ?" 
 
 "I believe I like the party best of all," said Linda 
 honestly. 
 
 "Don't run wild now about parties," said Cassel. 
 " You will soon get used to them v and they will become 
 as ordinary as beefsteak for breakfast."
 
 128 TEKEL, 
 
 Linda would have gone with Cassel anywhere, and 
 listened to him always. She was fully awake from her 
 tiresome and dreary dream, to a real existence, full and 
 overflowing with charming particulars. She felt that she 
 was a different person from the late solitary, apprehensive, 
 heavy-hearted, and circumscribed Linda. Her outlook 
 was inviting now, and becoming familiar. The stately 
 buildings swallowing up their throngs, and heretofore 
 wearing a shroud of mystery through which her imagina 
 tion and conjecture vainly attempted to make their way, 
 were being turned inside out to her. She felt more at 
 home in her own house, as though she had a right there, 
 and not as if every one who entered its halls held prior 
 sway, and might order her to begone. 
 
 We may now consider Linda, the guileless, in a path 
 way 'on either hand of which is happiness. Out of his 
 nobility of soul, a wealthy and enchanting young stranger, 
 who could, with much less outlay of pains and patience, 
 have put her perhap.s upon the road to despair, chose joy, 
 and not shame, for her. 
 
 Cassel, Pontiac, Rapid : rather a singular name, indeed ; 
 and in some respects having a singular owner. Two 
 years ago, as we have before said, that name might well 
 have been "Joyful." Now, it might better be "Indomita 
 ble." Linda, to whom he had been so generously gentle 
 and true, and who repaid him with such unalloyed trust 
 and affection, was no more essential to his inner life than 
 the butterfly which fans the flower is essential to the 
 breeze that rocks the forest. Although he prized Linda, 
 and would doubtless have laid down his life in her defense, 
 yet, had it been his fate* to have done so, it would have 
 been for him a fate like that of one, who, organizing a 
 chief battle, falls prematurely in some insignificant skir 
 mish. In the play of young Rapid's countenance there 
 was a feature, or the absence of a feature, which was, in 
 all probability, unique. His face, regular, pure, and 
 chiseled in manly beauty, never wore an expression of abso 
 lute gravity. When it was at rest, the beholder was re 
 minded of a finely-cut countenance upon which the sculp 
 tor's genius had kindled the light of a coming smile. The 
 ordinary perplexities and mishaps which make men swear
 
 OR CORA GLENCOE. 129 
 
 and contract their brows, were pondered by him with this 
 pleasant and unruffled light ever upon his face. If his 
 reflections became lighter, or droll, or blithe, he either 
 smiled with frankness or laughed outright. But if they 
 took an opposite and peculiar turn, his expression leaped 
 over the point of gravity altogether, and a frown as im 
 placable as War gathered to his brow. And when he was 
 alone, this frown often came upon his face, and with the 
 quickness of light transformed its placid beauty to the 
 grim and relentless aspect of an avenger. The observer 
 would be compelled to the conclusion that at such times a 
 merciless pang was shooting through his brain, or that 
 there was some one thing in this world which he utterly 
 hated with most ravening desire, the bare thought of 
 which was sufficient to rouse a raging lion or a Lost 
 Angel within his breast. Accustomed calmly and with 
 iron nerve to stand in the vortex of peril, his hand trem 
 bled at his own frown, whose terrible gathering seemed 
 but the outward signs of an emotion within him which 
 was as volcanic as Truth, and resistless as the waft of 
 storms. It would be false to say that Cassel Rapid was 
 now habitually or consecutively unhappy. It would be 
 true to say that at times, and often, memory swept through 
 his soul, scorching its way like a flame of exquisite ills. 
 
 CHAPTER XIII. 
 
 WHILE Cassel Rapid was training and cultivating the 
 fair exotic, which, in its state of neglect, had excited his 
 sympathy and enlisted his care, there were several persons 
 ranging about Creswood who were not regarded as legiti 
 mate denizens of that fastness of tranquillity. One of 
 these strangers, who appeared to go alone, or to desire 
 to go alone, was an erect, active, good-looking person, with 
 an acute, intelligent countenance, and a keen, vigilant eye, 
 notwithstanding the superfluous glasses which he wore 
 upon his nose. He was dressed in substantial, well-cut
 
 130 TEKEL, 
 
 clothes, and seemed to be ever intent upon picking up 
 shells from the beach, examining pebbles, and pricking 
 into clefts of the. rocky bluffs with a steel instrument 
 after the fashion of a stiletto. Strapped to his shoulder he 
 carried a small satchel, into which he sometimes dropped 
 a specimen from the ocean, a chip from the rocks, or a 
 sample of the soil. The latter he packed in jar-shaped 
 vials, which he corked and sealed with wax. He could be 
 seen almost every day, walking about and discovering the 
 geological characteristics of Creswood. He would loosen 
 a stone, hold it off at arm's length, and glare at it through 
 his spectacles, then draw it close up to his eyes and ex 
 amine it as minutely as if searching for fossilized animal- 
 culae. He gave out that he was a geologist, employed in 
 the interests of science, and would remain in that neigh 
 borhood for an indefinite period, as he found it an exceed 
 ingly interesting spot, abounding in fossils and traces of 
 hoary antiquity. He seemed particularly attracted by the 
 Larboard Strand, and the line of bluffs which rose ab 
 ruptly against it ; and, by a shrewd observer, might have 
 been detected in topographical as well as geological in 
 vestigation. However, as it is not our intention to excite 
 the curiosity of the reader, it may be as well to state at 
 once that the geologist was none other than Hector 
 O'Dare, the person with whom young Rapid held an in 
 terview in the correct city of Boston, and one of the most 
 cunning fellows in the United States. Cunning though 
 he was, he was destined to be put to his wits in a very 
 few days after he made his appearance at Creswood. 
 With the exception of a very few persons, the dwellers of 
 Creswood knew as little of geology as Towser knows of 
 taxation, and in less than a week the geologist became 
 the wonder of the neighborhood, and was pestered beyond 
 all ordinary patience by the curiosity of the people, espe 
 cially the younger ones, who would follow him about for 
 half a day at a time, in a vain endeavor to discover or 
 comprehend what in the mischief he could possibly be 
 after. Some said he was hunting for gold, or silver, or 
 precious stones, or coal, or buried treasure. Others as 
 serted that he was crazy. And others, that he was a 
 necromancer, and was in league with Oswald Huron in
 
 OR CORA GLENCOE. 131 
 
 some Devil's doings. But what he had most to fence 
 against was the interest which Garland Hope manifested 
 for the progress and results of his researches. Garland 
 was himself a student of geology, and now that a scien 
 tific and practical geologist had come into his neighbor 
 hood, it was a chance too rare to be lost, and nothing but 
 the very coolest civility on the part of O'Dare restrained 
 him from opening up the boundless subject for discussion 
 and information. He would go out into O'Dare's chosen 
 range, and fish up some specimen which he himself could 
 neither name nor locate, and about which O'Dare knew 
 absolutely nothing. The detective could have canvassed 
 Theology with the young minister with infinitely greater 
 scope and understanding. He was a proper feeling man, 
 and did not wish to treat any deserving person uncivilly, 
 but with all his hedging, and deafness, and foxing, he 
 could not, in this instance, avoid doing so, without great 
 risk of an open exposure. He glided out of answering a 
 number of direct interrogatories in a manner which Gar 
 land regarded as very singular indeed, and was finally com 
 pelled to inform the young minister that " he never discussed 
 Geology with amateurs ;" at the same time facetiously add 
 ing to himself, " or with anybody else." With the rustic 
 bumpkins who stared at him and anon ventured an in 
 quiry, he resorted to the tactics of the negro phrenologist 
 who, being interrogated, replied, " that amativeness and 
 costiveness meant exactly the same thing," O'Dare telling 
 the bumpkins that geology and genealogy were synony 
 mous, and meant Pedigree. They all knew the meaning 
 of pedigree ; for during the last season some one had kept 
 an ass in the neighborhood, and not to know the pedigree 
 of that ass was to be considered a greater ass than the ass 
 itself. 
 
 But curiosity, like young birds, will, unless it is con 
 tinually fed, pine away and die ; and as O'Dare discreetly 
 reduced his movements to the monotony of an empty 
 craw, the curiosity of the rustics died of famine. So, after 
 having run the gantlet of the entire neighborhood, he 
 was left alone to pursue his researches. After numerous 
 walks up and down the Larboard Strand, and repeated 
 investigations of the wall of rock which backed it up, he
 
 5 
 
 132 TEKEL, 
 
 one day took from his satchel and unfolded a sheet of 
 canvas about a yard square. With a pencil he traced the 
 strand and the wall of bluff, Gale Island at the lower or 
 southern end, and Cliff Hall in view at the upper or 
 northern end of the strand ; the island and Hall being 
 about a mile and a half apart. Upon that part of his 
 tracery representing the beach and bluff some two hundred 
 yards north of Gale Island, he made a distinct mark ; and 
 upon the corresponding actual locality he marked the rock 
 wall with a cross of red chalk. Between the red cross 
 and Gale Island, and about fifty yards from the cross, a 
 bridle path led up to the hills and into the forest. Between 
 the red cross and Cliff Hall, to the north, there was, for at 
 least a mile, no access to the hills ; no way to escape from 
 the beach except by way of the ocean. We are particular 
 in describing Larboard Strand, because it is to be the 
 theater of a tragedy, swift and mysterious. 
 
 Several miles south of Gale Island, on the Starboard 
 Strand, was a ragged string of huts, the property of no one 
 in particular, and occupied at will by itinerant nonde 
 scripts. In one of a group of these huts, at the present 
 date, were three persons: Amy Turnbolt, the niece of 
 Captain Gale ; Jonas Aiken, the young villain whom Guy 
 Rapid had taken to Texas with him, and now a grown 
 man ; and Gilders, also originally of Creswood, the man 
 whom Cassel Rapid had compelled to deliver up a certain 
 valuable paper at a card-table in Boston. 
 
 Amy was in a bad humor from some cause, and went 
 out of the hut. Jonas Aiken wheeled his chair, turned 
 his back to Gilders, and stuck his feet out of a window. 
 Gilders got up softly, drew a revolver, pressed the trigger, 
 and cocked it without clicking it, and leveled the pistol 
 at Jonas Aiken's back. In this position he stood for ten 
 seconds. His countenance changed, and lowering his 
 weapon, he said to himself, 
 
 " Something urges me to make sure of him ; but he is 
 not my game, and I will not rob the owner. If ever I 
 had a prayer, it is that the hand of that gallant, noble 
 boy may not fail him when he comes upon this hellion." 
 
 Gilders sat down as softly as he had risen, and Jonas 
 Aiken never knew how near he then was to the pit of 
 death.
 
 OR CORA GLENCOE. 133 
 
 Amy Turnbolt reappeared, and sat down. 
 
 " How much do I owe you for board ?" asked Gilders. 
 
 "Eleven dollars," replied Amy. 
 
 " Here is your money, and here is my good-by," said 
 he, extending his hand. 
 
 "Where are you going?" asked Jonas Aiken. 
 
 "To California, maybe." 
 
 " I wish you'd let me have about twenty-five before you 
 start, I'm strapped." 
 
 " You are already in my debt, of old ; and I have no 
 money to spare." 
 
 " Suppose I should make you spare it ?" said Aiken, 
 with a fierce, contemptuous look. 
 
 Gilders did not answer, but with his hand upon his 
 pistol and his eye upon Aiken, he backed out of the hut, 
 and was seen no more in Creswood. 
 
 Very soon after Gilders' departure there was a distinct 
 knock at the door of the hut. Aiken actively withdrew, 
 for his crimes made him apprehensive, and Amy, answer 
 ing the knock, found herself face to face with O'Dare. 
 She had seen the geologist and had heard a great deal 
 about him : she consequently invited him in with some 
 curiosity. O'Dare, greatly to his surprise, had met with 
 Gilders a few days before, and had gained information 
 from him. Gilders had recognized O'Dare as a persoa 
 whom he had met in another and very different characto^ 
 but the detective had secured the silence of the cattle 
 herder by mentioning the name of John R. Lake, and, in 
 a very friendly manner, hinting him off to California. 
 
 O'Dare saw that the room into which he was invited 
 contained three chairs only ; and he managed to discover, 
 before taking a seat, that two of the chairs were warm 
 from recent occupation. He was satisfied that at least one 
 person had left the room at his approach. 
 
 "Are you the mistress here ?" he asked of Amy. 
 
 "Yes." 
 
 " You do not live alone ?" 
 
 " No. I keep a few boarders, but they are now away." 
 
 "Laborers, are they ?" 
 
 " Well, yes ; that is, I believe they are." 
 
 " When will thev return ?" 
 12
 
 134 TEKEL, 
 
 " That is more than I can tell." 
 
 At this moment O'Dare's quick eye detected a man spy 
 ing into the room between the chinks of the hut. A few 
 seconds passed when a door opened and the man walked 
 in with a proprietary air. 
 
 " Good-morning, sir," said O'Dare, at the same time 
 observing to himself, "You are my man and no mistake." 
 
 Jonas Aiken was a muscular, dark man, rather tall, and 
 with hooded eyes, out of which looked evil, cunning, 
 suspicion, and alertness. With ..investigating eyes he said 
 to O'Dare, 
 
 "I don't think I ever saw you before." 
 
 "Nor I you," answered the detective, who noticed that 
 Aiken kept his revolver handy. 
 
 " Where are you from ?" 
 
 "I am the gentleman from Geology," said O'Dare, 
 adjusting his spectacles in a very eccentric manner, " trav 
 eling about in search of the vestiges of the Silurian, De 
 vonian, Carboniferous, Reptilian, Mammalian, and Golden 
 ages. " 
 
 "And otherwise a damn'd book-fool," said Aikeii to 
 himself. "Well," continued he, addressing O'Dare, "what 
 do you want here ?" 
 
 " A man to do some work with a pick." 
 
 The interview between O'Dare and Aiken resulted in a 
 bargain, this being Saturday, that on Monday morning 
 Aikeu should go to work picking the drift from a crevasse 
 where O'Dare had marked, with a red cross, the rock wall 
 of the Larboard Strand, and to continue to excavate until 
 O'Dare, by stopping his pay, should notify him to quit. 
 
 When O'Dare left the hut, Aiken turned to Amy, and 
 with a selfish, unpleasant laugh, said, 
 
 "^Any damn'd fool ought to know there's no gold in 
 these bluffs. This fellow is crazy. I've heard of him, 
 roving about here pecking into rocks, bottling dirt, and 
 bagging shells, for the last week or two. But I'm strapped, 
 and if I don't work any gold out of the bluffs for him, I'll 
 work some out of his pocket for me, and keep it up as long 
 as he dares to, unless I get wind of the Devil on horse 
 back." 
 
 " Who is this ' Devil on horseback,' and what makes 
 you so afraid of him ?" asked Amy.
 
 OR CORA GLENCOE. 135 
 
 " I tell you again, Amy Turnbolt, he's a handsome 
 devil that rides a pale horse with black mane and black 
 feet. He's been here once, but went away, I hope, for 
 good. I don't want to meet him ; so, if you hear of him, 
 it will stand you in hand to let me know of it. I owe 
 him, and he's determined to collect." 
 
 " And I tell you again, Jonas Aiken, that you must 
 hunt some other place to board. I do not like this skir 
 mishing about every time that any person knocks at the 
 door ; and I won't prevaricate for you any longer. And 
 furthermore, I am going back to Uncle Gale's. I was a 
 fool for ever leaving him." 
 
 "Very well," said Aiken; "when you go, I'll run the 
 shebang myself. These huts are as much mine as yours, 
 anyhow." 
 
 " Not until I get out of them, sir," said Amy resolutely. 
 " When it comes to that, I'll see who has the most friends 
 in Creswood between us." 
 
 On the morrow, which was Sunday, Jonas Aiken went 
 upon the Larboard Strand to have a look at his field, or 
 rather his spot, of labor. 
 
 " Not so hard after all," said he to himself, as he looked 
 at the red cross chalked upon the rock ; " and if I don't 
 tinker the work for as many days as that fool can be 
 coaxed to pay, then let some sensible man kick me into 
 the sea." 
 
 Strolling up the Strand, he came upon Cora GlencOe, 
 who was seated on the Tarpeian Rock. She was reading, 
 and must have been exceedingly interested, for she did 
 not observe Aiken's approach, and was only apprised that 
 he had stopped in front of her by the deep growl of a 
 powerful dog which lay at her feet. She raised her head, 
 and Aiken saw that she had been weeping. 
 
 " What is it that distresses one so beautiful ?" asked 
 Aiken, who did not lack for words or blandishments. 
 
 Cora answered him nothing, but kept her firm dark eyes 
 fixed upon him as though he had been some dangerous 
 animal from the overhanging forest. 
 
 " Why do you weep ?" persisted the man. 
 
 Cora gazed at him resolutely and silently. She felt 
 that the man was one to beware of. But she did not know
 
 136 TEKEL, 
 
 that she looked Hell in the face, as her sweet, unquailing 
 .eyes rested upon him. 
 
 Aiken glanced up the strand: there was no one in 
 sight. He glanced southward, and seeing Johnny Gale 
 with his mother and sister pleasure-walking, he turned 
 away and continued his stroll. 
 
 Cora Glencoe had never spoken to any member of the 
 Gale family. Notwithstanding this fact, the Gales bore her 
 no malice, for all their charges were laid at the threshold 
 of Oswald Huron, with whom, they were satisfied, Cora led 
 a most wretched and withering life. They had often pitied 
 her in their fireside conversations, for they knew from 
 Mr. Hope that she was a pure-hearted, lovely, dauntless 
 little girl, fighting daily and hourly with the fate which 
 bound her to an almost intolerable existence. Out of 
 human sympathy, then, when they were about to pass her, 
 they looked over toward the Tarpeian Rock on which she 
 sat. What was their surprise to see her acknowledge 
 their regard with an inclination of her head, which had 
 more of apology than condescension in it. Very kindly 
 and politely they responded, and passed on. 
 
 Thinking of the man upon whose evil countenance she 
 had just looked, and fearing that he might return and 
 find her alone, Cora descended from her seat upon the 
 rock, and, in the rear of the Gales, proceeded slowly to 
 ward Cliff Hall. 
 
 Carroll May, who apparently had been delayed at the 
 island, and was endeavoring to overtake the Gales in 
 their promenade, came briskly along, and was about to 
 pass Cora, when, hearing his steps behind her, she turned 
 suddenly and looked him full in the face. With a polite 
 ness, possibly indiscreet, but certainly irrepressible, he 
 bowed to her, not expecting her to regard him in the 
 least. But he, even more than the Gales, was astonished, 
 when? with a manner exquisitely sad, she bid him good- 
 day, and courageously requested him to halt. Before his 
 happy wonder had time to expend itself she handed 
 him the book which she had been reading, and said, 
 
 " Mr. May, here is something which belongs to you. 
 I picked it from the strand but an hour ago. I have read 
 it twice. Ignorance of its contents, and finding it open
 
 OR CORA GLENCOE. 137 
 
 and astray, caused me to look into it. A glance made 
 it impossible for me to close it. I know that I have tres 
 passed upon what to you is sacred. But consider that to 
 me it instantly became as essential as it is sacred to you, 
 and you will forgive me. May the good God bless you, 
 and forever prosper you !" and Cora turned and walked 
 away. 
 
 Carroll felt as if he had been shocked by a sensation 
 battery which had agitated every chord within his breast. 
 Never had Cora looked into his eyes or vouchsafed him a 
 word before. He knew that it was madness to love her, 
 but who is ever mad from choice ? or who that is mad 
 can help being mad ? He knew that the very tie which 
 now existed between himself and Cora was a bloody 
 one, which effectually severed them forever, and yet the 
 fated command to forget her caused him the more intensely 
 to remember. 
 
 The book which Cora had restored to its owner dispelled 
 a life-long illusion. It had been originally a blank-book, 
 in size about five by six inches. It was filled with manu 
 script, plain, regular, and neat as print. It contained over 
 fifty pages, devoted exclusively to Carroll's family history, 
 from which he learned of his father's character, and par 
 ticularly of the motives which impelled him to seek an 
 alternative which resulted in his death. The name of 
 Oswald Huron frequently occurred on its pages, and fur 
 nished the irresistible attraction which caused Cora to 
 begin what, when once begun, could not be relinquished 
 until it was read and re-read. It was a faithful record, 
 but totally devoid of bitterness. It was a vindication of 
 the motives of the slain ; not an arraignment of the slayer. 
 It was discernible that the heart of a good man had in 
 fluenced and guided the head which had arranged, and com 
 pacted, and tempered the facts recorded. Instead of inciting 
 to revenge, they breathed a sigh, pensive with regret, and 
 exhaled a perfume which quieted the spirit with an exquisite 
 sadness, like that which is borne through the senses to the 
 soul by the scent of flowers blossoming over the tomb. In 
 this record, Captain Gale had more than complied with the 
 request of the dead that he should acquaint the son where 
 fore the father died by violence. Next to the sarcoph- 
 
 12*
 
 138 TEKEL, 
 
 agus which held his father's ashes, that little book was 
 sacred to the boy. He had unaccountably dropped it on 
 the strand ; but that Cora had found it and wept- over it, 
 and hallowed him with a blessing fresh and spontaneous 
 from her pure heart, gave joy to its loss and rapture to its 
 recovery. But in his heart there came and sat a wretched 
 pang when he thought of the rivulet of blood which jetted 
 from his father's breast and sang of death as it ran be 
 tween himself and Cora ; that rivulet, like an impassable 
 flood, over which no earthly sail could bear him to her 
 side. 
 
 CHAPTER XIV. 
 
 IT was Monday, the day succeeding the events recorded 
 toward the end of the last chapter. A summer evening's 
 rosy pomp clothed the sea-waters with a coat of color, and 
 gave to each ambitious wave a jeweled crest. As myriad 
 kings have risen in the earth, received their crowns, and 
 fallen back to dust, so these aspiring waves, towering, 
 were only jewel-capped in time to sink again into the 
 eternity of waters. 
 
 Cora Glencoe sat upon the Tarpeian Rock, her brave 
 dog at her feet, while the sea lapped the beach as though 
 its sands held everlasting and uncloying sweetness. In 
 a voice of touching melancholy she was singing " Beau 
 tiful Venice, the Bride of the Sea," and looking far away 
 to where the rim of waters joined the horizon. Where she 
 sat the celestial glow gave luster to the rich auburn of her 
 head. Her eyes were very dark, and thrilled with an 
 intense longing, as if she would fain go where she gazed 
 afar. Tears dew-dropped her lashes, and hung upon cheeks 
 as pure and fair as tinted porcelain. Her mouth was as 
 tender as the "there, then" of a young mother to her 
 first born. Lovely as imagination, she was equally sad 
 and bleak, in these the days of her early youth. Oswald 
 Huron her strange father filled her mind with dread, 
 and her bosom with almost every feeling but that of respect
 
 OR CORA GLENCOE 139 
 
 or affection. Not that he abused her person ; but his 
 mind was dark, his soul tempestuous, and his character 
 blemished and awry. She could not love him, and she 
 had no one else to love. She was famishing for life's 
 fragrance, and often, when alone, her heart would gush 
 with 'agony and pent affection, and she would give her 
 very dog those tender, fiery, and priceless bosom-caresses 
 which otherwise must waste upon the air. Cora had long 
 learned to think for herself, and in every glance of her 
 eyes there seemed to be a reckoning. She was writing 
 out, and adopting, a code to govern her through life. It 
 was founded in the religion taught by her venerable pastor, 
 Mr. Hope, and embodied her own ideas of right and 
 wrong. When it should be finished, she determined to 
 cling to it, let the world stray as it might. She was now 
 adding a new chapter ; a chapter prompted and dictated 
 by the contents of the little book which she had picked 
 from the strand, and which revealed to her, or reminded 
 her of a phase not yet considered. If, before, she had 
 regarded her father with feelings akin to horror and 
 mingled with fear, she now saw him robed in the gloom 
 of the murderer, the man-slayer ; and although she could 
 not doubt the truth of the indelible story which she had 
 read, at times she revolted against it with the very pathos 
 of protest, and endeavored to flee from a fact which she 
 could only contemplate with utter dismay and despair. 
 She even canvassed in her mind whether it was not her 
 Christian and ethical duty to cleave her existence forever 
 from that of her father, and go out into the world and 
 buffet for a new life. But she was restrained and bound 
 by a lingering hope that at some good hour and day he 
 would scourge himself, and cast out his evil nature. She 
 herself might conduce to that end. Cora's sorrow and 
 lamentation was vital, and would have consumed her had 
 it been mute ; but she gave it voice, sobbing in her 
 chamber, crying to Heaven, or singing mournfully to the 
 heedless waves. 
 
 Looking down the strand, which lay between the bluffs 
 and the sea-line like a sanded street backed by the rude 
 walls of nature and fronting on a boundless waterscape, 
 she could see, some hundreds of yards away, the Geologist
 
 140 TEKEL, 
 
 and his hired man O'Dare and Aiken at work against 
 the face of the rocks. She saw O'Dare quit the spot and 
 start up the beach, leaving Aiken to continue his labor 
 alone. He would soon pass her, and she had a curiosity 
 and a desire to have a good look at him. The science of 
 which he professed to be a practical student had often 
 carried her mind down into the catacombs of the buried 
 Ages. Her life was distressingly lonely, and, when not 
 employed in domestic duties, she almost dreamed the 
 hours away, by the shore, watching the water as it bolted 
 the sands at her feet. As the sprig of mountain-sorrel, 
 or the Alpine rose, carries the imagination to dizzy heights 
 and snow-capped shafts, so the simplest shell washed up 
 by the waves, plunged her thoughts away into the vast 
 beds of the ocean, where they reveled in submarine 
 scenery, with its couched grottoes, its hill places, and its 
 plains, until Imagination snapped upon its stretch, and 
 rose to the surface, impotent as the air-bubble. 
 
 As O'Dare was about to pass Cora, he, as if upon 
 second thought, halted in front of her and addressed her 
 thus, 
 
 " Permit me, young miss, with the greatest respect, to 
 greet you ' good-evening.'" 
 
 Cora looked at him mildly. His voice was .kind, his 
 appearance respectable, and his air reassuring. She 
 answered, 
 
 " I could not refuse so simple a request, accompanied as 
 it is." 
 
 O'Dare bowed, and continued, 
 
 " Do you not fear to go alone so much?" 
 
 In reply, Cora patted her dog on the head. He growled 
 at the stranger. 
 
 "A faithful guard," said O'Dare, looking at the dog, 
 "but not always a sufficient one." 
 
 " What have I to fear ?" asked the young girl. 
 
 " Why, me," said O'Dare smiling, " in the absence of 
 something more frightful." 
 
 " Why should I fear you ?" 
 
 "You do not then take me to be crazy ?" 
 
 " I regard Geology as a Science, not as a Lunacy, if you 
 refer to your repute among us rustics."
 
 OR CORA OLENCOE. 141 
 
 " Neither do you take me to be dangerous ?" 
 
 "Not from your appearance." 
 
 O'Dare drew from his breast a small, ivory-handled re 
 volving pistol. It was a gem weapon. 
 
 " Do you see this ?" asked he, holding it up. 
 
 " I do," said Cora, turning a shade paler than her 
 wonted color. Then, with an expression of features which 
 O'Dare could not interpret, she added with vehemence, 
 
 "It is a demon!" 
 
 "True," said O'Dare, "and demons use it; therefore 
 men are compelled to pit demon against demon." 
 
 " Rarely," was Cora's reply. 
 
 "You say you have nothing to fear, here and alone. 
 What prevents me from killing you ?" 
 
 " You are eccentric in your questions," said Cora. 
 " But if there were no other restraint, absence of motive 
 would prevent you." 
 
 " You answer well. Can you imagine anything worse 
 than to be killed ?" 
 
 "Yes." 
 
 "What is it?" 
 
 "To kill." 
 
 " Anything worse than that ?" 
 
 "No." 
 
 " Your innocence puts you at fault." 
 
 "Is there a worse thing than the murderer?" 
 
 "Yes." 
 
 "What is it?" 
 
 "The Spoiler," said O'Dare, with deep emphasis. 
 
 " I do not discover your meaning," said Cora, after a 
 moment's reflection. 
 
 " Have you read Shakspeare's works ?" 
 
 "Yes." 
 
 "The whole of them?" 
 
 " Yes." 
 
 " Do you remember Tarquin ?" 
 
 A sudden light was thrown upon O'Dare's meaning. 
 The young girl said, 
 
 "Please discontinue your catechism." 
 
 O'Dare tossed the pistol into Cora's lap. The dog 
 sprang up to defend his mistress. The detective quickly
 
 142 TEKEL, 
 
 took off his spectacles and fixed a brilliant, piercing eye 
 upon him. With a deep growl the faithful animal 
 crouched at Cora's side. 
 
 "I have disarmed myself," said O'Dare. "You now 
 have both dog and demon. Permit me to speak to you as 
 a man who especially knows "the world. I have already 
 done you a service by recalling to your mind the name of 
 Tarquin. Let me tell you, Cora Glencoe, that every age 
 has its Tarquins, and the present is prolific of them. You 
 go too much alone ; but if you will go alone, accept that 
 demon which I have tossed into your lap, and carry it, for 
 it may ward off a yet greater demon ; such a one as Tar 
 quin. Look what it will do ;" saying which, he drew 
 another pistol, a mate to the first, and directing Cora's 
 eye to a small white blossom against the bluff, he raised 
 his arm and fired. The bullet cut the stem of the flower 
 and the bloom fell below. O'Dare went and picked it up, 
 and stuck it in his button-hole. " I drop you some bullets 
 here upon the sand. I would put them in your lap but 
 for your mastiff. Keep your pistol dry, oil it now and 
 then, and you will have no need to reload more than once 
 a year. Do not, in your innocence, throw it away as the 
 gift of a fool. Neither must you consider this the freak of 
 an eccentric man, for I am in no sense eccentric, and have 
 a matter-of-fact, steady, guiding reason for all my delib 
 erate acts. At another time I may inform you why I took 
 the liberty of accosting you, why I give you that pistol, 
 and, as a sequence, why I urge and counsel you to ac 
 quaint yourself, without delay, with its use, and fail not 
 to carry it, if you must needs go alone." 
 
 O'Dare bowed and walked away, leaving Cora to 
 wonder at him. " Granted that he is mad," thought the 
 young girl, " he is at least methodical, and points his 
 words with rationality." From looking at the pistol Cora 
 began to handle it. She condemned its uses, but possessed 
 no prejudices against either its material or its mechanism. 
 As a concrete Ingenuity she regarded it as of almost 
 matchless power, able, in the twinkling of an eye, to drive 
 out the spirit from the body, and send it into the presence 
 of God himself. She had never shot a pistol, but she knew 
 how it was loaded, and how it was discharged. O'Dare's
 
 OR CORA GLEN COS. 143 
 
 words were not without effect upon her, and in recalling 
 the fate of Lucrece, she thought of the man Jonas 
 Aiken who but yesterday had stopped before her with 
 his evil face and repulsive address. But the more she 
 .became reconciled to the dangerous gem, the more was 
 she at a loss to conjecture the inquisitive interest of the 
 geologist in herself, and his singular mode of manifesting 
 it. The fact of its singularity, however, determined her 
 to carry the pistol in her dress-pocket when she went 
 alone. She already began to feel an accession of power 
 with the weapon in her hand, and at all events it would 
 serve to frighten if not to kill. 
 
 Had Cora's intimate friends (supposing that she had 
 such) urged her to carry a pistol, she would either have 
 considered them crazed, or disregarded them as jesting; 
 and a moment before O'Dare had tossed the pistol into her 
 lap she would have thought of carrying a cannon as soon. 
 
 Cora was now sixteen years of age, and had acquired 
 a complete common-school education. She had studied 
 well, having had nothing to consume her time or distract 
 her attention except the heartache, from which she fled 
 to her books, and to the shore, which was a ceaseless study 
 to her, as untiring as the waves themselves. 
 
 Oswald Huron, who was satisfied with his daughter's 
 progress, determined to take Cora from the Creswood 
 school, have her devote one year to history, and then send 
 her to some finishing institution, where she would be 
 enabled to see a little more of the world, and the kind of 
 people it contained, than would ever be seen at Creswood. 
 This determination was formed upon the suggestions of 
 Mr. Hope, who was probably the only person living to 
 whose advice Oswald Huron would so much as listen, or 
 to whom he would concede a single grain of disinterested 
 wisdom. 
 
 Cora was naturally elegant and lady-like. Her " style" 
 was pure and unaffected, and therefore correct and beau 
 tiful What she needed was something beyond home 
 views, and home experience, and it was now essential to 
 her expansion that she should, for awhile, be cut loose 
 from the withes which bound her. She was preparing 
 herself to enter creditably whatever institution she might
 
 144 TEKEL, 
 
 be assigned to, and looked forward with some relief to the 
 time when she should escape, for a season, the gloom of 
 Cliff Hall. But there was no brightness in her future. 
 To her the future seemed as a long vista, hedged and 
 overhung with evergreen weepers, through which peered 
 the sad faces of the desolate, and each face bearing a 
 mournful resemblance to her own. 
 
 Captain Gale had steadily watched for an opportunity 
 of restoring Cora to her true parents. But he had never 
 found the time at which he was satisfied that the evidence 
 he possessed would be accepted as conclusive, or that it 
 would not be combated by Oswald Huron with all the 
 vigor of animosity and hate. He had altogether lost the 
 polarity of Maria Guthrie, the most important witness, 
 and did not know if she were alive or dead. Her affidavit, 
 mere ex-parte testimony, .would, in the handwriting of 
 Lawyer May, breed suspicion. Amy Turnbolt's word, 
 written or spoken, considering the relations existing be 
 tween Captain Gale and Oswald Huron, would be subject 
 to attack before any court of justice or equity. Toward 
 Captain Gale, Oswald Huron had never relaxed a muscle 
 or relented a thought, and the mariner wished, above all 
 things, to guard against raising the question of Cora's 
 parentage, and leaving it in a state of painful and madden 
 ing non-solution. Better let her remain as she was yet a 
 little while longer than submit her to be torn to pieces by 
 a controversy which he was satisfied would be as bitter as 
 gall on the one hand, and, on the other, as wakeful as 
 want, the want of the true parents for the child of their 
 blood. And so Captain Gale had put off the day of resto 
 ration from month to month, and from year to year. What 
 was to strengthen his arm and equip him with greater 
 power, he was unable to see, either near at hand or in the 
 distance ; but confiding in the justice of Heaven, and the 
 inscrutable ways of Providence, he bowed submission to 
 the fiat of circumstances, and compelled himself to be 
 partly contented with endeavoring in his prayers to hasten 
 up Providence a little, and precipitate the sequel of its 
 unaccountable and mysterious ways. 
 
 It is time that the reader should be informed that Gar 
 land Hope, the young minister, was in love. The object
 
 OR CORA GLENCOE. 145 
 
 of his fondest thoughts was a mild, celestial-looking girl, 
 a young blonde of Creswood. Her name was Rebecca 
 Ruthven. She was tender-eyed and affectionate, and re 
 turned the young minister's fondness with a discreet and 
 gentle love which thoroughly satisfied him, for the present. 
 Her father was dead. She lived with her mother and her 
 grandfather, and attended the school of which Garland 
 was the head. He took especial pains in educating her, 
 and she repaid his prospective care by assiduous study, 
 modest ambition, and anon a tender glance. She was an 
 amiable, lovely, and precious girl, and Garland contem 
 plated her expanding beauty and intelligence with a deep 
 and happy calm, for he felt secure in her love, and there 
 was neither rival nor bugbear to fright him in his dreams. 
 His father commended his choice, except that he would 
 rather have seen Garland and Cora Glencoe together, but 
 did not interfere to make it so ; and Rebecca's mother 
 and grandfather regarded him as a well-girt Christian 
 knight, under whose shield their daughter could safely 
 shelter when they were laid in the grave. But Rebecca 
 was quite young, and would not be ready for a year or 
 more to submit herself to the manipulations of Matrimony. 
 Garland, however, was content to wait, having no fear, 
 and desiring firmly to establish himself, and count his 
 temporal success as a stone already hewn and set, and not 
 as one to be searched for in the quarry. 
 
 The Hope family had exercised a very salutary in 
 fluence upon the community of Creswood. By their 
 teaching and example they had given direction to the 
 random thoughts and aspirations of the dwellers, and 
 had bound many of them as a sheaf, ripe and fitted for 
 the garner. 
 
 But there were a few strongholds which resisted all 
 their Christian lances. Cliff Hall was one of them. 
 Oswald Huron was regarded both by Garland and his 
 father as beyond the influence of anything short of the 
 death-bed, and, as likely as not, proof and stiff-necked 
 even there would he be found. 
 
 Then there was Gale Island, which was but half re 
 deemed. It had long been the heavenly ambition of old 
 
 13
 
 ] 46 TEKEL, 
 
 Mr. Hope, who had delegated its consummation to his 
 son, to bring Captain Gale into the church as an avowed 
 and communing member. There was no reason to com 
 plain of Captain Gale's pecuniary fellowship, for he gave 
 freely, and, in addition, volunteered sensible and timely 
 suggestions in regard to the temporalities of the church ; but 
 he neither broke bread nor drank wine at the table of the 
 devout, and the reverend father and son, and many mem 
 bers of the church, felt an uncommon interest in the sure 
 and prescribed salvation of a soul so worthy the strivings 
 of the people of God. 
 
 But the resolute captain had peculiar notions of his 
 own ; and so long as it was required of him to conform 
 his views to the general, specific, and promulgated views 
 of the church, he could not in conscience take the vows. 
 
 For instance, he did not believe that the human race 
 is the issue of one man Adam and one woman Eve, and 
 he stoutly maintained that Genesis does not teach any 
 such doctrine. 
 
 Again, he did not believe in the universality of a 
 world-submerging flood ; or, granted that it was all-sub 
 merging, there must have been a subsequent creation, he 
 contended. 
 
 "Before the mast," said he, "when I was a youth, I 
 sailed the world over. I have seen too much and many, 
 to believe that all things now existing came out of Noah's 
 Ark in embryo. In the Sandwich Islands I saw creation. 
 In the South Pacific I saw creation. In other oceans I 
 saw creation. How did it get there ? With a good 
 ship, compass, and crew, and knowing that these islands 
 existed, it was no summer day's sail to reach them. 
 Human beings, the savages in occupancy, don't know 
 how they got there themselves. It is possible that their 
 ancestors might have made the voyage in some way now 
 obsolete, and, in fact, absolutely unknown. But did they 
 carry with them animals, beasts, birds, reptiles, insects, 
 worms, and fresh-water fish ? If not, it is not an unrea 
 sonable question to ask ' how did these things get 
 there ?' The simplest answer in my mind is, ' they were 
 created on the spot.' Just as easy to create in one place 
 as another. Some say that continental and marine con-
 
 OR CORA OLENCOE. 14f 
 
 vulsions scattered the land and water every way. If 
 these islands were separated from continents and sent to 
 sea, when did the convulsion occur? According to the 
 universal, all-submerging theory, they could not have 
 been sent to sea before the Deluge, or they too would 
 have been deluged. Neither is it likely that they could 
 have been convulsed away since the Deluge, for such a 
 period would have been more memorable than the Deluge 
 itself, and would have been the theme of Tradition down 
 to the age of letters and statistics. Moreover, every con 
 tinent from which an island was torn must hav'e been 
 restocked from Noah's Ark, or the fragments would have 
 gone to sea destitute of creation ; and such a convulsion, 
 even at this teeming and prolific day, might tear many an 
 island from many an uninhabited coast. I divide this 
 question into three. 
 
 " One. The Deluge was not universal. 
 
 " Two. If it was, there was a subsequent creation. 
 
 "Three. Is it not feasible that Deluge was accom 
 panied by Convulsion, or Convulsion by Deluge, one 
 causing the other, and scattering the hills and the waves 
 abroad, and leaving the face of the earth about as it now 
 is, with here and there its nuclei of life, each probably, 
 like the man who ran away from the battle, reporting 
 itself the sole survivor ? 
 
 " But I leave the solution (as one not essential to salva 
 tion) to the time when Eternity shall enlighten us all. To 
 the magnificent old Prophets I strike my flag, always. 
 Coming still further down, the Sermon on the Mount is 
 ample to save the world ; and on an endeavor to imbibe 
 its spirit I trust to get to heaven, church dogmas to the 
 contrary notwithstanding. If," said Captain Gale to Mr. 
 Hope, "you will cut your Temple from the solid Rock, I 
 will sit with you therein. Let God be the Creator, Man 
 the Sinner, Jesus Christ the Mediator, and His plain 
 teachings the Guide, and I am with you. Put down all 
 that is not plain, as distorted light, coming to us through 
 a defective medium, the medium of human scribes and 
 linguists." 
 
 The stanch captain continued to rest so calmly and 
 meekly upon his simple faith, that the Hopes deemed it
 
 148 TEKEL, 
 
 safer to leave him where he was, than, by attempting to 
 force him forward, drive him backward. 
 
 Hector O'Dare, having got his man regularly to work, 
 left Creswood. Jonas Aiken pecked away at the packed 
 drift in the crevasse, day after day, and to all questions 
 replied that he was digging for gold. 
 
 " Have you found any ?" 
 
 "Yes." 
 
 "How much?" 
 
 "Two dollars a day and tools furnished." 
 
 Finally he was left alone to his hired endeavor to crack 
 open the cliffs of the Larboard Strand. 
 
 We next find O'Dare in Cassel Rapid's room at the 
 Boyd mansion. On a table he had spread a sheet of 
 canvas, over which he and Cassel were bending. 
 
 " Do you recognize it ?" asked O'Dare. 
 
 " Yes. Here is Gale Island ; here is the path leading 
 down to the beach ; here lies the strand against the rock 
 walls ; and here is Cliff Hall. Where is your excavation ?" 
 
 "Here," said O'Dare, putting his finger upon a cross in 
 red ink. "It is about fifty yards from where the path 
 comes down to the beach." 
 
 "Just as I would have it," said Cassel. 
 
 " You will find him armed to the teeth," said O'Dare. 
 
 "Just as I would have it again. And now, Mr. O'Dare, 
 I have to thank you for a favor. The fact that I pay you 
 for it takes nothing from it in my esteem." 
 
 "Mr. Rapid," said O'Dare, professionally, "I have 
 simply obeyed instructions without asking questions. It 
 is not for me legally to know your purposes. But, judging 
 you by myself, and by every other man, I can anticipate 
 what probably will soon be a startling sequence in that 
 quiet neighborhood. If you come out of it alive, or what 
 ever may transpire, I am, you will remember, not to be 
 mixed up with it in any shape." 
 
 "You are, and shall be, free from all contagion which 
 this matter may breed. But how much do I owe you?" 
 
 O'Dare named the sum. 
 
 " Permit me to double it ?" suggested young Rapid. " I 
 thought it would be at least five times as much." 
 
 "I never alter my figures," replied O'Dare. "I am
 
 OR CORA GLENCOE. 149 
 
 charging you only for my time, not for my conscience. 
 The one can always be bought, the other is not for sale. 
 But what I will not sell I sometimes give away. I have 
 done so in your case. My conscience, speed, and wishes 
 go with you, free of cost. As I said, he is armed to the 
 teeth. He cannot fail to see your approach, and have' 
 ample time to surrender or fight. You never asked me to 
 arrange for an assassination, nor would I have done it. 
 Everything is calculated for a compulsory but open battle, 
 as you desired. That is and was as much as Hector 
 O'Dare could undertake. But I do not hesitate to empha 
 size what you already know, that he deserves no such 
 consideration as time, or opportunity, from you." 
 
 " Here is a check for the sum I owe you," said Cassel, 
 not replying to O'Dare's unmistakable and friendly mean 
 ing, but observing, " I don't intend to commit you by say 
 ing a word. " 
 
 "You are doing worse," said the detective, smiling. 
 " You are checking me down in black and white. Never 
 mind the check, but pay me in notes or coin when con 
 venient. I want no banker's books to record me for future 
 reference. " 
 
 When the detective took leave, he held out his hand 
 to Cassel, saying, 
 
 " Young man, I like you. When you return, come see 
 me. Good-by ; which, being interpreted, means ' God be 
 with you.'" 
 
 Cassel shook hands with O'Dare, and the latter went 
 his way. 
 
 Taking from a trunk a fine, solid, steel dagger, young 
 Rapid went to the banking-house of Sarazzin & Sarazzin. 
 Calling for Jepthah, the junior partner, he retired with 
 him into a consultation-room. In ten minutes he came 
 out, and returned to the Boyd mansion. Going through 
 the house and the garden, he entered the stable, which 
 was at the rear, and fronted on an alley. He went into a 
 stall and met the salutation of his favorite horse with an 
 affectionate patting on the neck and head. Manipulating 
 the noble animal himself, he equipped him for a ride. In 
 a few moments he was on the street, "a handsome Devil 
 riding a pale horse with black mane and black feet" 
 
 13*
 
 150 TEKEL; 
 
 In a couple of hours he returned to the stable, and 
 having groomed his steed, was going to the house through 
 the garden when Liuda met him, and with enthusiasm 
 said, 
 
 "Oh, brother, my flowers are so beautiful, and such 
 willing bloomers. Please come and look at them." 
 
 They went to the borders, and Cassel saw that his 
 selections had proven good, and that the plants had re 
 sponded gratefully to the care which they had received. 
 
 Touching a delicate pink rose, a monthly, which was 
 just opening, pure and fresh, he said, 
 
 "Little sister, this is the color of your cheeks." 
 
 Linda blushed with modesty and pleasure. 
 
 " Oho," laughed Cassel, " now it is this one," and he 
 touched another rose of crimson hue. Then, turning to 
 her affectionately, he continued, " There is but one thing 
 more beautiful and tempting than the rose's blush, and 
 that is, the rosy spray upon the modest cheek. But look 
 you here : see this one, half opened. Down in its heart is 
 a crimson glow. But down there also is the worm. It is 
 thus I treat all such," and with that terrible frown upon 
 his face he plucked out the worm and set his heel upon it. 
 " Let no spoiler get down into your heart, or it may 
 wither as that flower would have withered, and I shall 
 have to set my heel upon him as upon that canker-worm." 
 
 Cassel proceeded to give Linda a complete and affec 
 tionate lecture. At its close he asked, 
 
 "Now, can you tell me why I am lecturing you?" 
 
 "Because you know I need it," said Linda. 
 
 " That is not the immediate and prime reason. It is 
 because I am going away." 
 
 Linda turned pale with instant agony and dismay. 
 
 " Now you are a Lily," said Cassel. " You have lost 
 all your color." 
 
 She burst into tears, and springing to his breast, clung 
 to him with the tenacity of want and affection. 
 
 " Ah," said she, while her young form shivered, "I shall 
 die. Please do notleave me, oh, my brother ! Please do 
 not go away and leave me to perish of desolation ! If you 
 need money, I have it. If you need a home, it is here. 
 If there is any one you love, bring her here and she shall
 
 OR CORA GLENCOE. 151 
 
 be my sister. But do not leave me, oh, my brother, please, 
 please do not leave me !" 
 
 Putting his hands on each side of her wet face and lift 
 ing it up, Cassel said, 
 
 "Your entreaty would melt a harder heart than mine. 
 Charmed with it, I did not attempt to stop it. But do 
 not waste another tear. I hope to be away only for a few 
 days. There is now no place on earth so welcome to me 
 as your pleasant lodge, hallowed as it is by my little 
 sister's love. But you must learn to be more self-depend 
 ent. Do not look upon your brother as so essential. I 
 have often told you that something might occur which 
 would separate us forever. What then ? You were kind 
 and tender, but possibly not discreet, in offering to frank 
 me through the world with your money and your home. 
 You must know that I could not accept even your bounty. 
 But I do not need money, for I have more of it than you 
 have. But I do need a home, and it shall be with my little 
 sister, until a stronger man comes and turns me out." 
 
 Linda looked into his face, with tear-drops on her 
 cheeks and lashes, saying, 
 
 " Oh, how dearly you rejoice me. You have led me out 
 of the night into the day, and if you should leave me it 
 would be night again. You have taught me, and I begin 
 to see what a social heathen I have been. You have 
 cared for me, and thought for me, and spent your time 
 and patience on me, when so often I have been a shame 
 to you in my ignorance, and you so competent for all the 
 world. Why is it," asked Linda, realizing yet more fully 
 the aptness of her question, "that you are so good to 
 me?" 
 
 " If I am good to you, it is because your innocence and 
 rarity delight me, and your tender gratitude repays me." 
 Over young Rapid's face now came an expression which 
 Linda had never before seen there. Said he, " I am far 
 more alone in the world than my little sister. I have no 
 kin above the sod. No father to guide and restrain me. 
 No mother to say my prayers for me", and kiss my brow. 
 No brother to jostle my head upon the pillow. No 
 no " 
 
 He stopped. With all his nerves of iron and dauntless
 
 152 TEKEL, 
 
 firm heart, young Rapid broke down. He turned away, 
 and with his handkerchief dried the water which came 
 from the depth of his heart to his eyes. Again turning 
 to Linda, he said, 
 
 " I do not go until to-morrow, and then you shall kiss 
 me good-by." 
 
 He left her, and going to his room, locked himself in. 
 Opening a trunk, he took out a pistol. It was empty. 
 He loaded it carefully and returned it to its place. Next 
 he withdrew a long lasso, and balanced it in his hand. 
 
 " I had better take this also," said he. " It may prevent 
 an escape." 
 
 Opening his door, he stepped into the hall with the 
 lasso in his hand, and whistled. Presently a dog came 
 up the stairs at the far end of the hall and frisked up to 
 him. With a stern chiding he stamped upon the floor, 
 and the dog scampered away. Cassel wielded the lasso 
 and sent it like a flying serpent along the hall. Just as 
 the dog reached the head of the descending stairs the 
 looped coil of the lasso dropped upon his neck, and 
 brought him to a frightened halt. Cassel coaxed him 
 into renewed confidence, released him, and returned to his 
 room, saying, 
 
 " It is surer than either powder or steel." 
 
 On the next day Cassel called again upon Jepthah 
 Sarazzin. The young Jew took him again into a consul 
 tation-room, and handed him a package. Cassel unrolled 
 the package and took out the dagger which he had given 
 to Jepthah the day before. A slip of paper, which had 
 been wrapped about the dagger, he handed to Jepthah, 
 and requested him to read from it. As Jepthah read, 
 Cassel compared the manuscript with the engraving on 
 the blade of the weapon. 
 
 "It is correct," said Cassel. "I hope you have en 
 countered no risk?" 
 
 " None," said Jepthah, smiling. " I defy even O'Dare to 
 trace it to me." 
 
 Within an hour Cassel Rapid had kissed Linda good- 
 by and was on board of a vessel bound for the Chesa 
 peake. Among the animals aboard was a pale stallion 
 with black mane and black feet.
 
 OR CORA QLENCOE. 153 
 
 CHAPTER XY. 
 
 CAPTAIN GALE'S new boat had been successfully 
 launched, and the bridal trip had been satisfactory ; and 
 as the captain brought her for the first time under the 
 shore of the island, his greeting, as he shouted to his 
 wife who stood above, was, 
 
 "I tell you, Sallie, she's a spanker !" 
 
 It was very early in the morning when the new White- 
 cap rode into the little harbor, and gracefully balanced 
 upon the calm bosom of the miniature bay. The great 
 quality of this little bay was, that, at the point where 
 Captain Gale always moored his boat, the waters were 
 self-adjusting. A storm from the sea might rush the mad 
 waves against the island, and against the beach on either 
 hand, but as they crowded into the mouths of the canals 
 which formed the- island they passed around the two 
 sides of an immense horseshoe, and, their force well-nigh 
 expended, met and mingled at the toe ; the effect of which 
 was a regular, gentle heaving of the water which sup 
 ported the vessel at anchor. Hence the real security of 
 an apparently unsafe basin of water not over two hun 
 dred and fifty yards from an almost open sea. 
 
 Captain Gale came up to the cottage and gave his wife 
 a kiss which smacked of vigor and enthusiasm. 
 
 "Sallie," asked he, "have you had breakfast?" 
 
 " No. I was just preparing it when one of the boys 
 told me that you were in sight." 
 
 " Very good. And now, honey, if it will not be too 
 much trouble, we will take breakfast on board the White- 
 cap. The stomachs of my crew are as empty as a charity 
 box. Here, Johnny, you and Carroll and Caddy come 
 and help your mother. Look lively now, for after break 
 fast the island takes a pleasure cruise. I intend to carry 
 everything to sea for half a day at least, even down to 
 the dog. How is the cow, Sallie ? I think I'll take her 
 along too," added the quaint captain.
 
 154 TEKEL 
 
 " John, you are just like a boy. You shall not disturb 
 my cow, for her calf is but two days old." 
 
 Captain Gale laughed, cut the pigeon-wing a time or 
 two, and went lightly down to the Whitecap. 
 
 " He hasn't been so frisky in ten years," said Mrs. 
 Gale to herself. " But he always did delight in a nice 
 boat, and I think he now has what he never had before, 
 just the kind of vessel to suit him." 
 
 After a hearty and merry breakfast, Gale Island, except 
 the cow with her young calf, went to sea, and did not re 
 turn to its moorings until mid-day. 
 
 Early in the afternoon, when the shade of the cliffs 
 began to encroach upon the beach and make it a pleasant 
 promenade, Captain Gale went, for a walk, upon the Lar 
 board Strand. Coming to where Jonas Aiken was at 
 work, he said, 
 
 " Well, Aiken, I'm glad to see you so industrious." 
 
 " Getting good pay," was the answer, accompanied by 
 an unpleasant laugh. 
 
 Captain Gale continued his promenade until he came 
 upon Cora Glencoe, sitting in her accustomed seat upon 
 the Tarpeian Rock. Cora saw him coming, and knowing 
 him to be the author of the little book she had read and 
 restored to its owner, and recognizing in its authorship 
 the spirit of a just, good, charitable, and generous-hearted 
 man, she got down from her seat and went out to meet 
 him. 
 
 " Captain Gale," said she, "will you not give me your 
 hand ?" at the same time offering hers. 
 
 "Certainly, my little dear, and my heart also," answered 
 he, while into his bold face came a look of compassion and 
 gentleness. 
 
 " Can we not be friends ?" she asked very sweetly, and 
 almost beseechingly. 
 
 " I have always been your friend, you little lamb, and 
 ever expect to be." 
 
 Cora looked up into his face with an intense longing. 
 How desolate must she have been to be seeking friends 
 upon the highway ! But here was a man whose sturdy 
 strength and integrity was a bulwark to himself and to 
 his family ; a man of stout virtues, whom she had con-
 
 OR CORA GLENCOE. 155 
 
 tinually passed by, without deigning to look at him. 
 Duty, repentance, and appreciation, the fruits of a recent 
 revelation, now taught her, in defiance of her father's 
 expressed will, to seek both his forgiveness and affection. 
 Cora was careful not to cross the will of her father, un 
 less that will degenerated into a whim which crossed her 
 own fixed conceptions of right and duty; but, although 
 Oswald Huron boasted that he ruled the land, upon occa 
 sion, when he roused the unconquerable spirit of the 
 queen eagle in the breast of Cora Glencoe, she stood 
 before his fury as dauntless as death and inflexible as 
 marble, denying his right, and with her calm, dark, desper 
 ate eyes, defying his power and usurpations. As Captain 
 Gale looked down into Cora's face, unsullied except by 
 care and sadness, he was almost tempted to take her in 
 his arms, carry her to the island, and fortify it against the 
 thunderbolts of Cliff Hall. Instead of this extreme meas 
 ure, however, he adopted the milder measures of his com 
 passion, which urged him to partly anticipate that which 
 he hoped and trusted would be the young girl's eventual 
 history. 
 
 " Cora," asked he, " do you believe me to be a truthful 
 man ?" 
 
 "I do, thoroughly," she answered. 
 
 " Should I assure you of something, which, to your 
 mind and inexperience, would appear vague, almost im 
 possible, and beyond comprehension, would you believe 
 it?" 
 
 " If reason could accept it, or conjecture account for it, 
 I should believe it. Otherwise, I might think you mis 
 taken; nothing more." 
 
 "A very discreet reply," said Captain Gale. " What I 
 am going to tell you is in the nature of a prophecy. 
 What you require to believe and trust in it is, faith in my 
 word, and faith in the beneficence of Providence. I know 
 that you are not happy as other children are happy ; and 
 I know the reason why. Now listen to me, and remember 
 what I tell you. Just as well as I know that you are not 
 happy > I also know that it will not be forever, before 
 you are fully grown, perhaps, until you will be happy, as 
 other children are ; and I also know the reason why. This
 
 156 TEKEL, 
 
 is strange language to you, and I hardly hope that you 
 will establish your undoubting faith upon it. But I tell 
 you of this as a thing to come, that your heart may be 
 encouraged; that you may cherish a hope through the 
 long days, and dream of it when you have said your 
 prayers, and pillowed your head for the night. I can give 
 you no glimpse of an explanation now, except that there 
 are some things which the old do not tell to the young 
 until the young grow older. My prophecy is not abso 
 lutely certain of fulfillment, but I can assure you that it is 
 as certain as that a young tree will grow if you plant it, 
 or that human affairs in the future will be a copy of human 
 affairs in the past. I am not volunteering an attempt to 
 cheer you for an hour, and disappoint you forever, but I 
 tell you a truth, not yet accomplished, but seeking and 
 nearing fulfillment, and bearing directly upon your destiny 
 and happiness. You cannot conjecture what will work, 
 or what will be, this change, but you can think of it, and 
 dream about it, and hope for it, and expect it ; and let your 
 heart be lighter and your spirit less cast down. Let it be 
 your half-secret, as it now is my whole secret. Trust that 
 there are sunbeams across your pathway ahead of you, 
 and that you will yet overtake them. Trust in God, 
 and the laws of your country," added the captain, not 
 altogether ineptly, or from force of habit. " That this 
 may be the last and freshest thing in your memory, I will 
 leave you to think of what I have said. Do not read any 
 more to-day, but think of all the wildest events in history 
 or fiction, of all which you may be able to collect from 
 your own brief experience, and if you choose, number this 
 strange but coming thing of which I tell you as among the 
 wildest, and, God willing, the happiest." 
 
 As Captain Gale returned home, he repeated to himself, 
 referring to Cora, 
 
 " I think I have lodged some hope there." 
 For more than an hour Cora sat upon the Tarpeian 
 Rock, wondering and wildering. She had seen but little 
 of the world, and did not profess to know of it beyond her 
 native woods, except through elementary books. Reflect 
 ing, she began to imagine that she had altogether miscon 
 ceived the world and the ways of it, and also the character
 
 OR CORA GLENCOE. 157 
 
 of that wisdom and insight which are the prerogative of age 
 and the fruit of experience. She had just been informed 
 by Captain Gale that there were some things which the 
 old did not tell to the young until the young grew older. 
 !She had often seen old women shake their heads mysteri 
 ously and hint to younger persons that the time would 
 come when they "would know." Even Mr. Hope had put 
 her off at times by saying, " This is something which I 
 could not explain to you now. When you grow older, and 
 see more of the world, then you will comprehend it." 
 What could these inexplicable things be ? Were they 
 secrets forbidden to be told by mortal tongues, but to be 
 whispered into her soul at some mystic moment and by 
 some mystic agency? Again, was the great world, away 
 from Creswood, so different actually from what she had 
 conceived it to be ? There were reasons for her to think 
 so. The three most traveled persons of whom she knew, 
 to wit, Oswald Huron, who was a tourist, the Geologist, 
 (O'Dare), who was an explorer, and Captain Gale, who 
 was a mariner, were each in some sense incomprehensible ; 
 while, in contrast, the common people of Creswood were 
 as fathomable as the primer-book of her childhood. Was 
 her father so strange in his ways because that he saw and 
 knew so far beyond her own limited scope ? Was this the 
 reason why the Geologist appeared so eccentric and pecu 
 liar ? Could she account in this way for Captain Gale's 
 extraordinary language ? Was it the common property 
 of those who knew the great world, to comprehend and 
 daily deal with matters which to her were enigmas ? 
 Where, then, was that fountain of which she could drink 
 and become as one who had been abroad in the earth ? or 
 must she too go abroad ? What was that thing of which 
 Captain Gale so earnestly spoke, which was to come to 
 her as a happy visitation, and be her own ? Must she 
 indeed expect it and hope for it? Although her mind 
 caught at hope, it was occupied by a vague dread. She 
 began to feel that she was the focus of some concentering 
 event, which, notwithstanding it might bring Happiness, 
 would be forerun by Terror ; the terror perhaps of a super 
 natural Revelation. The reader will remember that Cora 
 was a little forest-bound girl, trained only by her old 
 
 14
 
 158 TEKEL, 
 
 pastor, and by him to perfect purity and simplicity of 
 reasoning upon all the eventualities of life. But her 
 imagination had carried her beyond her training-ground, 
 and she was lost. 
 
 Wildering thus, she was just in that mental condition 
 to see what she soon did see, in its most frightful aspect. 
 She was startled from her meditative mazes by a savage 
 cry which came up the strand from the direction of Gale 
 Island. A pistol-shot accompanied the cry. Looking 
 down the strand she was transfixed. She saw Jonas 
 .Aiken, fleet-footed as the hind, running up the beach 
 toward her. Behind him, a rider upon a pale horse came 
 like a rushing bolt. Three times she saw Jonas Aiken 
 fire his pistol as he ran, then dash it to the sands and 
 stretch away with all the speed of Panic. Onward came 
 the pale horse, whose rider poised in the air that deadly 
 serpent of the Southwestern Llanos, the terrible lasso ; 
 more deadly than the flying arrow or the hissing ball, and 
 surer than the cheetah's spring or the silent drop of the 
 treacherous boa. Cora knew not what it meant. She 
 knew not what dread fate lay in the unerring hand, the 
 cast, the looped coil, the wheeling of the steed, the drag 
 ging to earth, and the ruthless rasping of the flesh from the 
 bones, at the whirlwind feet of the frantic speeding horse. 
 But Jonas Aiken knew what it meant, and he knew the 
 steel-blue eye that was upon him, and despairing of all 
 other escape he ran into the sea and plunged beneath the 
 waves. The rider dropped his lasso on the beach, and 
 drawing a dagger whose sheen flashed into the eyes of 
 Cora Glencoe, he rushed his horse into the shallow sea 
 and caught the diving fugitive by the throat. Three times 
 did Cora see that shining dagger lifted and driven to the 
 hilt in the heart of Jonas Aiken, whose vile body was 
 then spurned to the fishes. As the rider came out of the 
 waves, without dismounting he plucked his lasso from the 
 ground. As he recovered himself, Cora saw in his corru 
 gated brow and glance of fire the very frenzy of retribu 
 tion. Looking upon her for the first time where she sat 
 upon the rock, in tones as stern as war he commanded, 
 " Go home, you sparrow ! the falcons of Hell are 
 abroad !"
 
 OR CORA GLENCOE. 159 
 
 He then turned his steed away. Cora fainted, and lay 
 as one dead upon the rock. Down the beach rode the 
 horseman in an easy walk; up the path the pale horse 
 clambered, and with a wild neigh plunged into the forest, 
 and was seen no more. 
 
 Alternately her dog licked the face of his fainted mis 
 tress and howled desolation on the air, until he revived 
 her. She came out of her swoon as from a dream of 
 dismay. She saw her book resting where she had placed 
 it upon a projecting ledge of the Tarpeian Rock. The 
 strand was quiet and deserted : so quiet, it seemed impos 
 sible that but a few moments ago a swift and terrible action 
 could have swept it. Was it indeed reality which she had 
 looked upon ? Or was it but the powerful supervening of 
 Imagination, with its vivid, rioting, and lifelike images ? 
 She went home, not certain that she had seen anything 
 actual, and barely satisfied that she had seen Captain 
 Gale, and listened to his prophecy. 
 
 Captain Gale, after his conversation with Cora, had 
 gone back to the island and seated himself upon the 
 cottage portico, where he loved so well to sit. The 
 cottage was too close, he would say, and the portico gave 
 him plenty of breathing room in front. 
 
 Caddy Gale's morning voyage had made her sea-sick. 
 She was in bed, and her mother was ministering to her 
 and laughing at her for a landlubber. Sea-sickness rarely 
 excites sympathy. Ridicule and banter appear to be the 
 specific compound with which to overcome it or cast it 
 out. 
 
 Carroll May was copying matter for a neighborhood 
 attorney, who, if talent and legal acquisition were taken 
 into account, should have been copying matter for Car 
 roll. 
 
 Johnny Gale was making himself familiar with a new 
 and full case of instruments, a concomitant to his adopted 
 profession of civil engineering. 
 
 Captain Gale, upon the portico, at intervals looked up 
 the Larboard Strand to where Cora continued to sit after 
 he had left her. He would then let his eyes rest for a 
 moment upon Jonas Aiken where he was at work. Then 
 out to sea he would turn his gaze. Then down upon the
 
 160 TEKEL, 
 
 Starboard Strand, which was solitary and uninteresting. 
 Thus he continued to employ himself for more than an 
 hour. But it was getting almost time for him to have 
 another look at the Whitecap, away from which he found 
 it as uneasy to stay as a youth from his love. Rising, 
 and taking a last glance up the beach, he saw Cora still 
 upon the rock, and Jonas Aiken apparently hard at work. 
 He then went down to the Whitecap, and taking a skiff, 
 rowed twice around her, went on board, looked about, 
 and in a dozen minutes was back in his accustomed seat 
 upon the cottage portico. The neigh, as of a wild horse, 
 came down the wind, which was blowing steadily and 
 gently from north-by-west, and recalled the captain's at 
 tention to the beach. Jonas Aiken had disappeared. The 
 howling of Cora's dog now caught the captain's ear, as it 
 came faintly down the wind. Cora was not in sight, but 
 he could see the suggestive motions of the dog, as he 
 howled and then turned to lick the face of his prostrate 
 mistress. Captain Gale was about to get his spy-glass 
 and have a nearer view, but at this moment he saw Cora 
 rise up, sit awhile, descend from her rock, and with her 
 dog, walk slowly homeward. How he pitied her. Jonas 
 Aiken was not yet in view, and the captain again turned 
 his eyes seaward. The surface water was slowly moving 
 southward from the action of the wind. The captain 
 lighted his pipe. Tobacco was the beginning and the end 
 of his dissipation ; and he could see no harm in what 
 ended ia smoke. For half an hour or more he continued 
 his leisurely puffs, when his attention was attracted by a 
 couple of sharks, playing or contending about an object 
 floating in the deep water in front of the island. Un 
 mooring a skiff, he rowed out to- investigate the floating 
 object. Approaching it, he discovered that it was a 
 human body. Coming upon it, he recognized the upturned, 
 death-sealed countenance of Jonas Aiken. His nerves 
 'tingled with horror and amazement. The sharks, fearing 
 to be deprived of their prey, became active. Captain 
 Gale struck at them with an oar. They drew the body 
 under, but it rose again within reach of Captain Gale's 
 hand. He reached out for it. His hand met the handle 
 of the dagger which yet remained in the breast of the
 
 OR CORA GLENCOB. 161 
 
 dead man. He grasped it. One of the sharks struck the 
 skiff with its tail, almost upsetting it. The heart of the 
 dead relaxed its hold upon the dagger, and it drew out in 
 the hand of Captain Gale, as, with urgent activity, he re 
 stored the equilibrium of his skiff. He threw the dagger 
 in the bottom of the skiff, and renewed his attack upon 
 the sharks. They, becoming savage, furiously assaulted 
 the dead, bore the body away, struck it with bristling 
 jaws, tore it to pieces, cutting and whizzing through the 
 water with ravenous commotion, and finally disappearing 
 in the depths, their prey devoured, or carried to their still 
 home. A moment after the body had been carried below, 
 Captain Gale saw something leap into the air, and, falling 
 back again, rest upon the surface of the water. Securing 
 it, he found it to be a large flask. It contained a few 
 drops of whisky. 
 
 " This," said Captain Gale, " is what floated him so 
 well. Is it possible that he has committed suicide ? If 
 so, how did he get to sea ? But, no ; such men as he never 
 turn their daggers against themselves." 
 
 Captain Gale went upon the beach where Aiken had 
 been at work. He saw nothing there but the tools of the 
 laborer, his dinner-bucket, and the belt and holster of his 
 pistol. Walking up the strand, he discovered the pistol 
 where the fugitive had dashed it. Upon its handle he saw, 
 roughly carved, " J. Aiken." It was empty, and four of 
 the tubes bore marks of having been recently discharged. 
 The two remaining tubes were probably discharged sev 
 eral days before. Captain Gale saw no tracks of any kind 
 indicative of an encounter. Both pursuer and pursued 
 had taken the edge of the water where the footing was 
 firm and smooth, and the faint traces of their speed were 
 soon bolted out by the busy waves. There were a few 
 horse tracks where the horseman came upon and left the 
 strand, but they were no uncommon signs there. 
 
 Captain Gale now possessed all the evidences and ves 
 tiges which had been left of the tragedy. Except Cora 
 Glencoe, no one in Creswood had seen the pale horse come 
 or go. 
 
 Captain Gale went back to the island, with dagger, 
 pistol, belt and holster, dinner-bucket, flask, and tools, and 
 
 H*
 
 162 TEKEL, 
 
 startled the family by his consequent announcement. He 
 gave an account of his contest with the sharks, their 
 victory, his going upon the strand, what he found there, 
 and ended by making a display of the articles which he 
 had brought with him. 
 
 Caddy Gale forgot her sea-sickness entirely, and sprang 
 out of bed fully restored and with eyes wide open. 
 
 The articles which Captain Gale had brought to the 
 cottage were scrutinized, and turned over, and scrutinized 
 again, until Carroll May discovered that the blade of the 
 dagger was covered in an unusual manner with engrav 
 ing. But before he could satisfy his curiosity, Captain 
 Gale ordered, 
 
 " Here, boys, give me those articles. They must be de 
 posited with an officer of the law. You'll get them scat 
 tered about, and some of them lost, in all probability. I 
 must put them away and let your curiosity have time to 
 cool. Here, Carroll, give me that dagger ; to-morrow you 
 may decipher the engraving." 
 
 The boys reluctantly handed over the articles, and Cap 
 tain Gale locked them up. 
 
 " Caddy," said Carroll, " I thought you were sick !" 
 
 " I was," answered Caddy, " but father gave me such 
 a big dose of fright that I got well before I knew it." 
 
 CHAPTER XVI. 
 
 CARROLL MAY had seen just enough of the engraving 
 upon the dagger which Captain Gale had withdrawn from 
 the breast of Jonas Aiken to awaken an interest and fos 
 ter a curiosity to examine it more completely. 
 
 Captain Gale, to all appearances, was going to be very 
 leisurely, and very deliberate, in the ceremony of again 
 exposing the articles which he had found to a further and 
 more minute inspection. 
 
 On the following day, Carroll, who had been put off 
 several times, and who was growing impatient, in a tone
 
 OR CORA GLENCOE. 163 
 
 partly in earnest and partly in playful appeal, said to Mrs. 
 Gale, 
 
 "Ma, make Uncle Gale show me that dagger." 
 
 "Let him see the dagger, husband; he's not going to 
 eat it," said Mrs. Gale, quietly. 
 
 " Now, Sallie," said Captain Gale, half in remonstrance, 
 "if you've set sail in that quarter, I may as well shift my 
 helm at once." 
 
 The lawlike captain regarded the articles as important 
 for developing the mystery of Jonas Aiken's untimely end, 
 and he wished to preserve them just as they were found, 
 especially the dagger, for of the tragedy it was the central 
 piece. Around its steel handle must have grasped the 
 fingers of the person who had urged it on its deadly mis 
 sion. In order to dispose of the issue, however, and pos 
 sibly with the view of getting off a little of his quaint 
 humor, he handed Carroll a key, saying, 
 
 "Carroll, unlock that drawer; take out the dagger; set 
 it up and look at it ; look at it far ; then look at it near ; 
 then reverse it, and look at it far and near ; measure its 
 length ; measure its breadth ; measure its diameter ; meas 
 ure its circumference ; weigh it ; copy the engraving ; then 
 give it back to me for evermore." 
 
 When Captain Gale got through enumerating, he was 
 compelled to laugh heartily along with the others. He 
 had always treated Carroll as his own son, reproving him, 
 petting him, or scolding him, with the manner and emo 
 tions of a parent. 
 
 Carroll took the key of the drawer, inserted it in the 
 lock, and slowly turned it, while he looked at Captain 
 Gale with a roguish expression which reminded one of a 
 headstrong, mischief-loving child, whose especial delight 
 it was to half tease its parents and get a good-humored 
 spanking. 
 
 He opened the drawer and picked up the dagger. With 
 pen and ink he proceeded to copy the engraving, it being 
 the object of particular interest with him. When he had 
 finished transcribing, he replaced the dagger, locked the 
 drawer, and returned the key to Captain Gale. 
 
 Carroll read over the words which he had written down 
 with an intense interest which seemed to fascinate him.
 
 164 TEKEL, 
 
 "What is it?" asked Captain Gale, observing the coun 
 tenance of the spell-bound youth. 
 
 "I hardly know," replied Carroll; "but it is a most 
 extraordinary inscription." 
 
 "Read it," said Captain Gale. 
 
 Below, we give a fac-simile of the engraving on the 
 dagger : 
 
 To the Lawgiver. 
 See Chapter 118, Section 
 17, Revised Statutes 
 of Maryland. See kin 
 dred Sections in the 
 Penal Codes of other 
 States of the Union ; 
 and ask of your 
 mother, wife, or 
 sister, why, a- 
 gainst these 
 Statutes, this 
 Dagger 
 dares to 
 write 
 
 T 
 e 
 k 
 e 
 I 
 
 "What can it mean?" asked Captain Gale, reaching for 
 the copy. " Let's have a look at it, Carroll." 
 
 " Ma, shall I let him have it, or make him wait until 
 to-morrow morning ?" laughed the youth. 
 
 " Give it to him, Carroll," said Mrs. Gale, smiling. 
 " You know he relented just now in your favor." 
 
 " Relented !" exclaimed the husband. " I uncondi 
 tionally backed out as soon as you enlisted against me." 
 
 " And now you are as anxious to see what it is as Car 
 roll was," retorted Mrs. Gale, merrily. 
 
 " Then it's the first time that my curiosity ever got 
 ahead of yours aha! ha! ha! h-a! h-a!" and Captain 
 Gale roared as he had not done for six months, his wife 
 and children bearing him good company.
 
 OR CORA OLENCOE. 165 
 
 While Captain Gale read over the copy, Carroll went 
 to his own little room and brought out the Revised 
 Statutes of Maryland. 
 
 "Uncle," said he, "please call off the chapter and sec 
 tion mentioned in the engraving; there must be some 
 special design in the reference." 
 
 " Chapter one hundred and eighteen, section seventeen," 
 responded Captain Gale. 
 
 Carroll turned to the chapter and section, and read 
 rapidly to himself. A light broke upon his mind and 
 gave direction to his conjectures. In a tone of some ex 
 citement, he said, 
 
 " It does mean something, uncle. Here, read this." 
 
 Captain Gale took the law book and read the section re 
 ferred to. He looked up into Corroll's face and exclaimed, 
 
 "Aha ! Here is matter for speculation. Carroll, in my 
 blue chest, in the cabin of the Whitecap, I have the laws 
 of Virginia, Maryland, Delaware, New Jersey, and New 
 York. I always keep the laws of whatever coast I trade 
 with. Bring them here. Here is the key. The chest is 
 on the left but never mind that will not throw any 
 additional light on this particular case, and I can compare 
 the books at another time." 
 
 "What's all this lawing and fuss about?" asked Mrs. 
 Gale, who had been quietly looking on. 
 
 " Belay your impatience, Sallie," said the old mariner, 
 with wicked humor. " I don't intend that you shall get 
 a rope's turn of this until it becomes dead stale. There's 
 law for you lex talionis," and the captain savagely 
 shook his mane at his wife. 
 
 " This tragedy appears to me to be a farce," said Mrs. 
 Gale. " I begin to suspect that it's all a hoax." 
 
 " No hoax to Jonas Aiken, I can tell you," replied the 
 captain, " or to the man who killed him." 
 
 " Might it not have been a woman ?" suggested Mrs. 
 Gale, who sometimes, out of mischief, asserted the new 
 born rights and capabilities of her own sex. 
 
 " Since you mention it, Sallie, it might well have been 
 a woman; better, probably, than a man." 
 
 " John, is the man really dead ? or is this but a ghastly 
 marine joke which you are attempting ?"
 
 166 TEKEL, 
 
 "Dead without a doubt, and eaten up by the sharks 
 under my own eye." 
 
 "Did the Black Oath have anything to do with it? 
 You remember his father ?" asked Mrs. Gale insinua 
 tingly. 
 
 " Sallie, don't talk of things which you never went to 
 sea and saw," said the captain, a little vexed. 
 
 " And couldn't see, if I should go to sea," replied Mrs. 
 Gale, following up the mariner's style of expressing him 
 self. " The fact is, then, that the dagger killed him, is 
 that it?" 
 
 " It came out of his breast," said Captain Gale. " I had 
 no time to act as coroner, but I judge that the dagger, in 
 the hands of some person unknown, caused his death. 
 But what is this last word, Carroll, in your copy ? You 
 have blotted it almost out." 
 
 Carroll took the paper and looked at it. 
 
 "Uncle, it is so blotted I shall have to refer to the 
 dagger." 
 
 Again taking out the weapon, Carroll looked at the 
 blade, and, from the point of it, read, 
 
 "Tekel." 
 
 " Tekel ?" echoed Captain Gale, somewhat at fault. 
 
 " Tekel ?" said Johnny, reflectively. 
 
 " Tekel ?" followed Caddy, at a loss. 
 
 " Tekel ?" repeated Carroll. " I have both heard and 
 seen the word often." 
 
 " So have I," said Captain Gale. 
 
 " So have I," echoed Johnny. 
 
 " So have I," followed Caddy. 
 
 Mrs. Gale, who had held her peace, conscious that they 
 were puzzled, said, 
 
 " Well, I reckon it's my time to sail in, seeing that you 
 are all aground ;" and notwithstanding the subject was a 
 grave one, she could not but laugh at their blank faces 
 until the tears ran down her cheeks. 
 
 "What is it, Sallie ?" asked Captain G^ale. 
 
 "Now you belay your impatience," said Mrs. Gale, re 
 torting upon the captain. 
 
 " Pshaw, Sallie ! I know what it means, if I could only 
 think of it."
 
 OR CORA GLENCOE. 16T 
 
 "Yes, but that's the trouble, you can't think of it. 
 I thought you told me you read your Bible." 
 
 " Come, honey," said the husband, with beseeching im 
 patience, "if you know the meaning of it, let's have it. It 
 is doubtless the key to the whole matter." 
 
 " Of course it is," replied Mrs. Gale, who was mistress 
 of the predicament; "but before I furnish you the key, I 
 must know what it is that you wish to unlock." 
 
 " Well, that's a fair compromise," admitted the captain, 
 and he pointed her to the section of law which he and 
 Carroll had been reading. 
 
 " Is this referred to on the dagger ?" she asked. 
 
 "Yes; and the kin law of all the other States. This is 
 Maryland law." 
 
 " The meaning, then, is as plain as daylight. This man 
 Aiken has been a demon" said Mrs. Gale. 
 
 " Ay, no doubt of it ; but what does the word Tekel 
 refer to ?" 
 
 Pointing to a wall of the room, Mrs. Gale, as if reading 
 from the plaster, said, 
 
 " Mene Mene Tekel Upharsin." 
 
 It was now almost as familiar to the auditory as the 
 Lord's Prayer. 
 
 "But why the single word, Tekel?" asked Captain 
 Gale. 
 
 " Refer to the feast of Belshazzar and you will learn," 
 answered Mrs. Gale. 
 
 " Caddy," said the captain, " bring me the Bible. Wife, 
 where will I find Belshazzar ?" 
 
 "Look in Matthew," answered Mrs. Gale, with secret 
 mischief. 
 
 " Sallie, don't make me out more of a heathen than Bel 
 shazzar himself. I know it's not in the New Testament." 
 
 " Look, then, in Daniel," said Mrs. Gale, laughing mer 
 rily at being foiled in the perpetration of so glaring a joke. 
 
 Captain Gale turned to Daniel, and finally to Chapter Y. 
 " Belshazzar's Impious Feast." 
 
 Yerse 1. " Belshazzar the king made a great feast to a 
 thousand of his lords, and drank wine before the thousand." 
 
 Yerse 5. " In the same hour came forth fingers of a 
 man's hand, and wrote over against the candlestick upon
 
 168 TEKEL, 
 
 the plaster of the wall of the king's palace : and the king 
 saw the part -of the hand that wrote." 
 
 Yerse 8. " Then came in all the king's wise men : but 
 they could not read the writing, nor make known to the 
 king the interpretation thereof." 
 
 Verse 13. " Then was Daniel brought in before the 
 king." ******* 
 
 Verse 17. " Then Daniel answered and said before the 
 kins; " ******* 
 
 Verse 25. "And this is the writing that was written, 
 MENE, MENE, TEKEL, UPHARSIN." 
 
 Verse 26. "This is the interpretation of the thing: 
 MENE; God hath numbered thy kingdom and finished it." 
 
 Verse 27. "TEKEL; Thou art weighed in the balances, 
 and art found wanting." 
 
 " Now you see what points the dagger," said Mrs. Gale. 
 
 " Carroll," said the captain, laying aside the Bible, " go 
 down to the Whitecap and bring me those law books I 
 mentioned. This is a subject to which I have heretofore 
 given very little attention." 
 
 When Carroll brought the books, Captain Gale notified 
 the young people that their presence just then was not 
 needed. Turning to particular sections of law in each 
 State code, he glanced through them and pointed them 
 out to his wife, observing, 
 
 " These are the kindred laws referred to by the engrav 
 ing on the dagger." 
 
 Mrs. Gale read. 
 
 " And most pusillanimous, unmanly laws they are," said 
 she, her soft brown, motherly eyes flashing. " This is the 
 interpretation of the thing, John Gale. The dagger chal 
 lenges the sufficiency of these laws and so do /. Jonas 
 Aiken has polluted some helpless, innocent girl, you may 
 depend. He has suffered death for it ; and I, for one, say, 
 may the hand live that drove the dagger." 
 
 " Wife ! wife !" remonstrated Captain Gale. 
 
 "I say it^ cried Mrs. Gale with fiery vim ; "and I'll 
 say it on my dying bed, may the hand live that drove 
 the dagger. Now, Captain Gale, granted that we inter 
 pret this engraving correctly, and suppose that it had been 
 Caddy, what would you have done ?"
 
 OR CORA GLENCOE. 169 
 
 "Wife, do not ask me such a question." 
 
 " I know what you would have done, you lion. And I 
 say shame upon any man who, for the honor and purity 
 of his house, would not drive daggers and give the Spoiler 
 to the fowls of the air and the fishes of the sea." 
 
 " But why be so excited, Sallie ?" 
 
 " Excited ! Hasn't this villain been within reach of 
 Caddy and Cora Glencoe, ever since the day be set his 
 foot in Creswood ? That very blade may have saved us 
 from infinite shame and heart-rending, and you from 
 doing you know not what, unless what has been done." 
 
 "But how know you," asked Captain Gale, "that the 
 inscription on the dagger has any reference to Jonas 
 Aiken ? 
 
 " It proves itself," answered the shrewd and consecutive 
 little woman. " What murderer leaves his knife behind to 
 track him up and bring him to the gallows ? No. That 
 dagger was driven by some gallant arm, and left as a 
 testimonial that at least one dauntless soul dared to retri- 
 bute the purity of his house, and deal death for deathless 
 pollution. What if it is against the laws ? What are such 
 laws as these to the ruined girl, the parents, the kindred, 
 the friends ? They are but a farce, and an invitation 
 instead of a terror to such men as Jonas Aiken." 
 
 Captain Gale subsided. To rid himself of all responsi 
 bility, he would hand over to the proper authorities the 
 articles he had collected, tell what he knew, and there let 
 the matter rest. 
 
 The death of Jonas Aiken created no sorrow in any 
 breast. It was regarded as a neighborhood wonder, but 
 not as a neighborhood calamity. Cora Glencoe was the 
 only witness of the deed which hurled his soul to judg 
 ment ; and for many months she did not tell to any one 
 what she had seen. Her father was a man-slayer. Him 
 she could not approach upon a subject of blood ; for his 
 present was overclouded and fitful enough without rous 
 ing him to memories of the past. For a long time Cora 
 did not go upon the strand, but remained at home, and 
 saw no one but Oswald Huron and the servants. Before 
 she again appeared where she might communicate with 
 the little world about her, the event of Aiken's death bad 
 
 15
 
 170 TEKEL, 
 
 become stale. Imagining, if at so late a day she should 
 come forward with an account of the tragedy, that she 
 would not be credited, and that it would do no good, she 
 held her peace. She had been so dismayed at the time, 
 that she could at best have given but an imperfect idea of 
 what had occurred. She could not have described either 
 the horse or horseman, though each was a marked figure ; 
 and could only have testified that she had seen one man 
 kill another. She shrank from being dragged before a 
 goggle-eyed public, simply to tell (what everybody knew) 
 that a man had been killed, and that somebody had killed 
 him. 
 
 Such were the views of artless Cora Glencoe. An in 
 quest, or a prosecuting attorney, might have held differ 
 ently. 
 
 CHAPTER XVII. 
 
 PROBABLY every coast is more or less infected with salt 
 water notions and superstitions. The reader may have 
 discovered that Creswood was not in this respect an 
 exception. 
 
 It is not astonishing, then, when it became generally 
 known that Captain Gale, a man of undoubted veracity, 
 had seen Jonas Aiken alive and at work, and, half an 
 hour after, had seen him unaccountably dead and at sea, 
 with a strange dagger in his breast, that a cloud of 
 superstition swept through Creswood, and rested here 
 and there in many minds. 
 
 The elders remembered Jonas Aiken's father, and how, 
 when the land would not punish him for his wickedness, 
 the sea drew him out upon its bosom, took his life, and 
 heaved his corpse upon the shore. 
 
 The wonder-weavers, therefore, found it easy to con 
 nect the fate of the son with that of the father, doubt 
 ing not that the sou had inherited, with its curse, the 
 mantle of the father, doubting not that he had himself 
 been guilty of distinct crimes, and doubting not that the
 
 OR CORA GLENCOE. 171 
 
 mysterious genius of the ocean, exasperated at the tardi 
 ness of the shore, had caught the doomed man from the 
 very beach, struck him, and left, in the life-seat of the 
 wretch, the unmistakable arraignment of the laws of Terra 
 Firma, " Thou art weighed in the balances, and art found 
 wanting." 
 
 The wonder-weavers, in their own social sphere, were 
 masters of the mystery, and would probably continue so 
 to be, until the mystery should be dissolved. 
 
 Amy Turnbolt presented herself before Captain Gale, 
 who was sitting in his accustomed seat upon the cottage 
 portico. The captain was impatient to get to sea, but 
 was detained as a witness in a legal investigation of the 
 singular fate of Jonas Aiken, which investigation was 
 appointed to commence on the following day, before a 
 primary tribunal of the neighborhood. There had been 
 no inquest, and, as events were so rare in Creswood, it 
 was determined by those who hungered and thirsted after 
 sensations, to have a public powwow in honor of this 
 doubly interesting incident of death aud mystery. And 
 it was determined that the powwow should be a legal 
 powwow, so that all possible elements should be enlisted 
 to make the occasion one to be remembered after it had 
 been enjoyed. The investigation done with, and knots of 
 wise heads having unknotted the knotty question, the 
 snowy sails of the spanking Whitecap would court the 
 breeze without more delay. 
 
 " Uncle John," said Amy, as she appeared before Cap 
 tain Gale, " I've got in a good humor." 
 
 Amy, in the past, had married a man by the name of 
 Bowden, against the remonstrances of her uncle. Bowden, 
 who proved to be a harmless, good-for-nothing sort of a 
 fellow, had djed of cholera. Amy had again been re 
 ceived and cared for at the island ; but as she was subject 
 to fits of cattishness, she had occasionally gone off in ill 
 humor, vowing never to return to the island again. Her 
 uncle had habitually told her that when she got in a good 
 humor she could come back. Her experience down among 
 the huts, as landlady, had pretty well cured her of her 
 resolutions to paddle her own canoe ; and she had returned 
 to the island in a more humble and accommodating state of
 
 172 TEKEL, 
 
 mind than on any previous occasion. Captain Gale wel 
 comed her, and merely observed, 
 
 " I am glad of it, Amy. Go in and tell Sallie, so that 
 she can assign you a room as of old." 
 
 "But, uncle, I have something to say to you first." 
 
 " Very well. Let's hear it." 
 
 " It's about the Jonas Aiken matter. You know he's 
 been boarding with me, until I turned him off. Several 
 other men have been boarding with me also, and they are 
 down at the huts now. Last night I heard two of them 
 in conversation. I listened, and found out that they were 
 talking about you and Jonas Aiken. They agreed to get 
 up a report that I had turned Jonas Aiken out, and he 
 had threatened to drive me out of the huts, and that you 
 had on that account killed him. They are to take some 
 rascal of a lawyer in with them, throw suspicion on you, 
 and force you to give them hush-money, or force you, in 
 order to clear your own skirts, to direct suspicion some 
 where or anywhere that will give them a chance of squeez 
 ing out hush-money, they professing to act as Aiken's 
 friends. They said that most any man would pay a hun 
 dred dollars or so, if suspected, to have the matter dropped ; 
 and that one such payment would give them a hold to 
 which they would hang, as long as it could be made to 
 pay. I am not certain which of the men it was, or what 
 lawyer they were going to take in co-hoot with them ; 
 but you can look out for something of the sort." 
 
 Captain Gale smiled with a disd^nful confidence. He, 
 who for more than a quarter oPUpentury had been the 
 umpire of order and legitimacy, iind the appeal of his 
 neighbors, to be blackmailed by some villainous attorney 
 and a couple of unsubstantial conspirators ! He merely 
 observed, 
 
 " You are right, Amy, to tell me of this, but don't you 
 be uneasy on my account. You need not say anything 
 about it to Sallie until this judicial inquiry is over, which 
 will be by to-morrow evening, for she might conjure up a 
 bugaboo. I do not know of any lawyer in this neighbor 
 hood who would undertake to conduct such an enterprise, 
 unless it should be that lank pettifogger who rides the lank 
 nag known throughout the county as ' Famine.' But if
 
 OR CORA OLENCOE. 173 
 
 he can make something out of nothing, he has improved 
 amazingly since I last heard of him." 
 
 Captain Gale, in his secret thoughts, gave Oswald 
 Huron credit for conceiving the plan, and organizing the 
 meditated attack upon him. Whether the captain was 
 right or wrong we are unable to say, but we do know that 
 he felt firm, and even saucy, in his integrity. 
 
 On the following day Captain Gale was prompt to re 
 spond to the summons of Justice. Carroll May went with 
 him, and before the investigation was fairly begun, the 
 affair assumed somewhat the courtly aspect of plaintiff 
 and defendant; the rogues of whom Amy Turnbolt had 
 spoken being plaintiffs, and Captain Gale being defend 
 ant, and at the same time, witness. 
 
 The captain told what he knew, neither more, neither 
 less. A number of questions were then asked and clearly 
 answered, during which the rider of the nag " Famine" 
 was conspicuous as an interested party. He appeared in 
 behalf of the dead and the friends of the dead, and suc 
 ceeded in creating an impression that there was something 
 to be developed, and that he was the person capable and 
 engaged to develop it. With much ado about preliminaries 
 and precedents, he instituted a cross-examination, in which 
 it was his intention to get Captain Gale upon his hook, 
 and in which, as the reader will discover from a few of his 
 questions and the replies elicited, he displayed extraordi 
 nary research, tact, and shrewdness. 
 
 It is not on account of any intrinsic merit in the follow 
 ing little comedy, hoviJfcir, that we are induced to include 
 it ; but for the purpose W introducing, without recommen 
 dation, the rider of "Famine," otherwise Mr. Attorney, 
 who will appear again before this history is written to the 
 end. 
 
 Assuming that impressive and penetrating air which a 
 certain school of lack-brain attorneys habitually affect with 
 the view of befooling fools and imposing upon wiser men 
 than themselves, Mr. Attorney very pointedly asked of 
 Captain Gale, 
 
 "You say you drew that dagger from Jonas Aiken's 
 breast ?" 
 
 " Yes." 
 
 15*
 
 174 TEKEL, 
 
 "Maybe you can inform the court who stuck it there ?" 
 
 "No." 
 
 " You say he was floating on the sea, half an hour after 
 the murder ?" 
 
 " I said nothing about murder." 
 
 " Do you deny that it was a murder?" 
 
 "No." 
 
 " Very well. Now what made him float so soon after 
 being killed ?" 
 
 " You can answer your own question. I have already 
 given my theory about the loss of blood, the large empty 
 flask, etc." 
 
 " You say he had his coat on ?" 
 
 "Yes." 
 
 " Now is it customary, in the heat of summer, for men 
 at hard work to wear their coats ?" 
 
 " It is a prudent habit with laborers, while resting, to 
 throw on their coats if they are perspiring freely and the 
 wind is blowing." 
 
 It was evident that Mr. Attorney's object was to entrap 
 Captain Gale into an inconsistency, and throw doubt and 
 suspicion upon his testimony, and upon himself. 
 
 " You say there were a few horse tracks upon the 
 beach ?" 
 
 "Yes." 
 
 "Are horse tracks common, or are they singular, to the 
 Larboard Strand ?" 
 
 " They are a common mark there when wind or water 
 does not wear or wash them out.'^. 
 
 " Is the strand a thoroughfare, a drive, a resort for 
 animals, or what ?" 
 
 "It is a watering-place." 
 
 "Aha! Animals drink saltwater, do they?" demanded 
 the attorney, brightening. 
 
 " Not unless backed by an attorney." 
 
 The court was compelled to cry " order, order." 
 
 " How then is it a watering-place, hey ?" persisted Mr. 
 Attorney, who was not willing to let go what he con 
 ceived to be a " holt." 
 
 "It is not uncommon," said Captain Gale, "for well- 
 kept horses to be brought there and washed in the sea.
 
 OR CORA GLENCOE. 115 
 
 Hence, for your sole comprehension, the tracks. A little 
 salt wash, and a little rubbing of the hair backwards, would 
 doubtless help that nag Famine of yours, Mr. Attorney." 
 
 A roar of laughter again elicited the cry of "order, 
 order," and Mr. Attorney, thus reinforced, with a very 
 piercing and mysterious eye, asked, 
 
 " Captain Gale, are you the sole witness in this affair?" 
 
 "So far as I know." 
 
 " Aha 1 Have you any suspicions of the guilty party ?" 
 
 "None." 
 
 " You suspect no one ?" 
 
 " No one, or no dozen." 
 
 " No person or persons whatever ?" persisted the at 
 torney 
 
 "No man, woman, or child; no men, women, or chil 
 dren." 
 
 " Have you heard any suspicions expressed?" 
 
 "No." 
 
 " Have you heard or do you know of anything which 
 might lead to a suspicion ?" 
 
 Captain Gale was well aware that he was answering 
 unauthorized questions, but he nevertheless replied, 
 
 " I never attempt to hunt for a needle in a hay-stack, 
 unless I first know that the needle is in the hay-stack. 
 But as you urge me to express an opinion, and direct sus 
 picion to some quarter, I am free to say that I know of no 
 one more likely to have done the deed than yourself." 
 
 Mr. Attorney bristled up. 
 
 " I submit to the court that the witness, in his reply, 
 makes a clean shift." 
 
 " And I," said Captain Gale, " with due respect to the 
 court, submit that the attorney needs a clean shirt." 
 
 Another roar of laughter was pronounced out of order. 
 
 " I challenge the action of witness in evading questions," 
 said the attorney in great wrath. 
 
 " I challenge the right of attorney to ask such ques 
 tions," replied Captain Gale, smiling at the court. 
 
 " I demand the right of a licensed attorney I" 
 
 " I demand an exhibition of Mr. Attorney's license," 
 was the reply. 
 
 Mr. Attorney could not produce his license.
 
 176 TEKEL, 
 
 " And I adjourn court," said the justice, who was satis 
 fied that the time for adjournment had arrived. 
 
 In the character of witness, Captain Gale may have 
 appeared flippant to the reader ; but by those who knew 
 the rider of Famine, and who were present during the ju 
 dicial proceedings, the captain, in both word and manner, 
 was considered appropriate, rosy, and quaintly gay. 
 
 The captain himself came out of the court-room laugh 
 ing heartily, the court arming him and laughing also. 
 
 " Hoo-ray for Captain Gale !" cried a number of appre 
 ciative urchins who had gathered about him. 
 
 " Hush, you little spankers !" good-humoredly remon 
 strated the captain. 
 
 As they walked along, the mariner said to the justice, 
 
 " Squire, I risked the clemency of the court in order to 
 give that rascally attorney his deserts ; for he is a rascal, 
 be assured. I could not forbear touching him on his nag 
 Famine. She is known the county over, and is a stand 
 ing, or rather a staggering, accusation against him. Then 
 his shirt," continued the captain merrily, " was an insult 
 to the purity of the bench." 
 
 "I own," said the justice, "that I was somewhat 
 surprised at you, for in all matters pertaining to law, you 
 have the reputation of being as sedate and methodical as 
 law itself. In fact, Gale," continued the justice jocosely, 
 " I have been told that your very dreams are lawful. I 
 would have restricted Mr. Attorney to legitimate grounds, 
 but seeing that you were getting the best of it, and the 
 bench being amused withal, I gave unusual latitude to 
 the proceedings. But I want a little advice. You are 
 the only .person who knows, originally, anything about 
 this matter. What would you counsel me to do ?" 
 
 " What can you do ? The man has been killed, and 
 the sharks have held an inquest. Beyond this there is 
 not a spark of light. The dagger, in my opinion, ex 
 plains why the killing was done. But you are not called 
 upon to do this or that, or to say yea or nay. The case 
 dismisses itself for lack of evidence ; leaving no ground 
 for the commitment or indictment of anybody." 
 
 Nothing more was attempted by the authorities to clear 
 up the mystery of Jonas Aiken's death, or to discover
 
 OR CORA GLENCOE. 177 
 
 who slew him. The intelligent portion of the community 
 doubted not that the dagger told a true tale ; a tale which 
 we hear almost every day, that of some defenseless girl 
 shrieking in the polluting grasp of the Spoiler, and of an 
 outraged kinsman, friend, or commune, dealing out merited 
 and thrice merited death. The insufficient law which 
 commissions justice to use the sword's flat, merely, where 
 its double edge should cut and cleave, is met daily from 
 some quarter of this land by the stern TeJcel of the single- 
 handed Retributor, or by the righteous fury of a mob, and 
 few there be who are so mean and spiritless as not to say 
 amen. 
 
 It would seem, with some exceptions, when men be 
 come legislators, that eagles are turned vultures. That 
 the manly and chivalrous sentiments of the free and 
 knightly citizen are suspended in the legislator. That 
 roaring like lions when stalking for votes, means acting 
 like jackals when assembled around the public carcass. 
 What man could, without shame and confusion, look his 
 wife, or his daughter, or his love, in the face and say, 
 " I have voted for a law which sets a price upon your 
 purity and chastity ? I have made the robbery of your 
 purity equivalent to the theft of a horse, and the violation 
 of your chastity equivalent to the violation of a senseless 
 revenue stamp !" 
 
 Captain Gale again wound his bugle, and waked up the 
 hills of Creswood with echoing melody. 
 
 The blast was promptly followed by the appearance of 
 his crew, and the Whitecap was soon at sea. 
 
 CHAPTER XVIII. 
 
 GRAHAM HURON, son of Neville Huron, and brother of 
 Cora Glencoe, came down from Philadelphia, on a visit to 
 Cliff Hall. He had never seen his Uncle Oswald since 
 the time when a little corpse was brought up from Cres 
 wood and lodged in the family vaults at Philadelphia ; and 
 he had not seen his sister Cora since she was an infant.
 
 178 TEKEL, 
 
 Neville Huron, who did not wish to permit a strict and 
 permanent alienation to become established between his 
 own and his brother's family, had suggested to Graham 
 that he might spend a few days or weeks very pleasantly 
 at Creswood with his cousin Cora, who was now almost 
 a grown young lady. The youth, who was by no means 
 unappreciative of the girls, and who would as soon toy 
 with a pretty cousin as a pretty anybody, was pleased 
 with the suggestion of his father, and without more delay 
 ihan is necessary to outfit a young gentleman of the city 
 and of the "period," was on his way to Creswood. 
 
 Graham was a fine-looking fellow, rather tall, with a 
 rich head, olive cheek, dark eyes, pleasant manners, and 
 finished collegiate education. He had no idea of the coun 
 try cousin whom he was going to visit, and when he ar 
 rived at the Hall he was delightfully surprised by the lovely 
 girl who warmly received him and welcomed him to Cres 
 wood. 
 
 Cora was very glad to see Graham, and would have 
 been glad to see any one of his promise, male or female, 
 who stood in the relation of cousin. 
 
 The sepulchral atmosphere of Cliff Hall needed some 
 such visitation to change it into one of breathing, open, 
 sunny air, and give the place an appearance of life. 
 
 Osw.-ild Huron was perfectly satisfied with the aspect, 
 tone, and manner of his nephew, and, from the beginning, 
 left Cora free to entertain him as she liked. 
 
 It required but a short time for an attachment to spring 
 up between Graham and Cora, and they were together 
 almost continually. 
 
 Oswald Huron regarded the fondness of the young peo 
 ple with complacency and growing interest, and finally 
 bethought him that his daughter could not do better than 
 to secure, in her wealthy and handsome cousin, a future 
 husband. He encouraged their ripening intimacy, and 
 even hinted to Cora the eligibility and aptitude of such 
 an arrangement. She answered him with a blush, and a 
 quiet look, which he interpreted as willingness and appro 
 bation. 
 
 The young couple were out every day upon the strand, 
 in the forest, on the cliffs, and occasionally on a visit,
 
 OR CORA GLENCOE. 179 
 
 until the gossipers of Creswood openly connected their 
 names as those of affianced lovers. 
 
 Gossipers are not always at fault, and in this instance 
 they were certainly half correct if not wholly so; for 
 Graham Huron soon learned to love Cora Glencoe as -he 
 would not have done had he known her to be his sister. 
 
 But with all his tact, and his experience with wary, 
 fencing, and alluring belles, it was impossible for him to 
 determine whether or not his affection was met by Cora's 
 secret heart as he would have desired. Infinitely tender 
 and attentive as his cousin, she seemed hedged by an 
 impenetrable thicket whenever he would advance upon 
 her as a lover on his lassie. She did not discourage him 
 as one who was unwilling to cope with him, but as one 
 who was altogether innocent of his designs, and ignorant 
 of the battle which he vainly maneuvered to precipitate. 
 If impetuously he assaulted her, with a sisterly air she 
 artlessly disarmed him, appearing as unconscious the 
 while as if he had invited her to take a glass of water. 
 Graham was both piqued and headlong in love. 
 
 " If she does not love me," he would say to himself, 
 "why is she so very, very tender, and so charmingly shy ? 
 If she does, why can I. not surprise her into some betrayal 
 of herself? What would the young fellows say if they 
 knew that I had fallen in love with my country cousin, 
 and wasn't able, with every opportunity, to read her mind? 
 I could only tell them that if they would like to be be 
 witched, to come down to Cliff Hall. It is not Uncle 
 Oswald who is the necromancer, but it is Cora who is the 
 little witch. I am afraid to tell her plumply that I love 
 her, for she would either be greatly shocked, or, what is 
 worse, she would laugh at me." 
 
 There are very few girls probably not any situated 
 and surrounded as Cora Glencoe had always been ; cut off 
 from the most of those things which attract the youthful 
 mind, and develop the young heart; and too ready to 
 lavish their soul's wealth upon the first object which 
 promises at all ; there are very few, we say, who could 
 or would withstand the manly onsets and loverly assidui 
 ties of a sensible, handsome, and elegant young person 
 such as Graham Huron. Cora was in a very dangerous
 
 180 TEKEL, 
 
 situation. Oswald Huron had already settled her destiny 
 in his own mind. He saw that Graham was fascinated 
 by Cora, and doubted not that he was in love with her. 
 He reflected that Graham had prolonged his visit much 
 beyond his originally set time, and that he would proba 
 bly continue to prolong it until Cora had said him yea or 
 nay; and the father was determined that the daughter 
 should not say nay. If necessary, he would make use of 
 all those wearing and despotic influences which the old 
 and crafty so well know how to bear upon the young and 
 guileless, and he did not even question his success. 
 
 Cora was just ready to form attachments. She was 
 aged and conditioned to hail with eager joy anything 
 which would mark the beginning of a new and happier 
 era in her life. What then was she likely to do, what 
 could she do, against the wishes of a willful father and 
 the entreaties of a fine young lover, combined ? Is it 
 strange if she gave her promise true, and surrendered the 
 castle of her heart ? Is it strange if she was captivated 
 with the vision of a new life, full of romance, variety, and 
 love, and cast in some beautiful spot, away from the gloomy 
 chambers of Cliff Hall ? Away from her father whom she 
 could not love, and away with her lover whom she could? 
 
 It was a beautiful summer evening in the latter part of 
 August, when Oswald Huron, with a small telescope, was 
 sitting at an east window of Cliff Hall, watching for the 
 moon to show itself above the crest of a hill which lay 
 between Cliff Hall and that part of the sea immediately 
 toward the east. The sun had set, and dusk was gather 
 ing when the full moon rose slowly up from behind the 
 hill, and became visible at the window where Oswald 
 Huron waited. From the time that the upper rim of the 
 orb appeared in view, until its lower rim rested for an in 
 stant on the hill-top as if the moon were balanced there, 
 he kept his glass upon it. Though Oswald Huron, in his 
 temperament, was the very opposite of celestial, he was 
 fond of looking upon celestial phenomena ; and though he 
 had, during a long series of observations, seen many re 
 markable things in the heavens, as meteors, storms, 
 auroras, hazes, and eclipses, he had never yet observed 
 upon the face of the moon so singular a phenomenon as
 
 OR CORA OLENCOE. 181 
 
 met his eye upon the evening in question, at the moment 
 the moon was clearing the hill-top. In it, he saw dis 
 tinctly a man and a woman, standing, and facing each 
 other ; and so close together that their persons almost 
 touched. They appeared to be gazing into each other's 
 faces, and conversing, as a slight gesture of the hand or 
 movement of the person would indicate. They then to all 
 appearances joined hands, and embraced ; the head of the 
 woman resting evidently upon the breast of the man ; in 
 which position they slowly sank into the depths out of 
 which the moon was rising. 
 
 Forty yards to the right or left of Oswald Huron's 
 position, an observer would have seen nothing but the 
 ordinary, mild, and unobstructed visage of sweet Luna 
 as she rose up to queen the Night. 
 
 Did Oswald Huron note this strange phenomenon, with 
 the view of advising with some astronomical coterie ? He 
 did nothing of the kind. He smiled a smile of possible 
 triumph, and rang for a servant. When the servant ap 
 peared, he asked, 
 
 " Ase Mr. Graham Huron and Miss Cora Glencoe in the 
 house?" 
 
 "No, sir." 
 
 " How do you know they are not ?" 
 
 " Tea has beeu waiting for them, sir ; and I have been 
 twice to their rooms, and to the parlor, to call them, and 
 they are not there, sir." 
 
 " Where are they, do you know ?" 
 
 " They walked out upon the cliffs late this afternoon. 
 I have not seen them since." 
 
 " You can go," said Oswald Huron, who stalked back 
 and forth in his laboratory, saying to himself, " I will 
 make even Cora and Graham believe that I am a necro 
 mancer, by telling them of what I saw in the moon." 
 Then, after a little reflection, he continued, " No : I'll say 
 nothing to them about it. It will be better to let them 
 carry out my wishes of their own accord, and imagine 
 that they are having the fun all to themselves. Lovers 
 are said to be very fond of looking at the moon, ha, ha! 
 I wonder how these two would feel if they knew that I 
 had caught them embracing in it!" and Oswald Huron 
 
 16
 
 182 TEKEL, 
 
 laughed as if the world were wagging to suit him. " Quite 
 a romantic astronomical incident," said he ; " and if I did 
 not know Cora to be so stanch a little soul, it might be 
 well for me to look after her." , 
 
 When Graham and Cora returned to the Hall, their 
 minds seemed preoccupied, and, while they took tea in 
 the presence of a dining-room servant, very little passed 
 between them. 
 
 On the next morning Graham was to return to Phila 
 delphia. He would visit Creswood again in the autumn. 
 
 That night Cora and Graham went pensively to their 
 pillows. Cora said to herself, 
 
 " I wonder if Captain Gale meant this, when he assured 
 me that happiness and content would come to me ?" 
 
 CHAPTER XIX. 
 
 CAPTAIN GALE made a longer stay at sea than usual, 
 when, for the first time, he put the new Whitecap into 
 trading waters. As a preliminary he had to steer for a 
 wholesale port and lay in an entire stock of fresh goods. 
 Next, his vessel being larger and of greater capacity for 
 the sea than any former Whitecap, he spent some time in 
 enlarging the boundaries of his traflic. 
 
 Mrs. Gale had often urged her husband to quit the sea, 
 as he was getting a little old and weatherbeaten, and was 
 able to retire upon a competency. But the captain had 
 striven for a boat which would fill the measure of his am 
 bition ; and having got it, he would now strive for a for 
 tune which would put himself and his family above the 
 ordinary wants which harass the human race. He would 
 be independent in fortune as he had ever been in principle; 
 and that he might be the more comfortably independent 
 in principle, he aimed that his fortune should be large 
 enough to bear, without serious detriment, those oft-re 
 curring sacrifices which a strict adherence to principle
 
 OR CORA GLENCOE. 183 
 
 fails not to demand. This was a worthy ambition in Cap 
 tain Gale, and he had good reason to hope that in a very 
 few years he would be able to compass it. 
 
 When he returned from his protracted cruise, Jjis wife, 
 who always became anxious when the Whitecap was tardy 
 to return, asked, 
 
 " Husband, where in the world have you been so long ?" 
 
 "It would take half a day to tell you, Sallie," answered 
 Captain Gale in the best of spirits ; " but the boat does so 
 well that I had a good mind to run her to Liverpool. She 
 catches a breeze quicker than I could kiss a pretty 
 woman," with which the buoyant captain took his wife in 
 his arms and smacked his lips over her. 
 
 The next morning, as the thriving mariner sat upon his 
 cottage portico, smoking his breakfast pipe, and calculating 
 the profits of his next trip, Amy Turnbolt came to him 
 and said, 
 
 " Uncle Gale, I am so. much relieved to have you back 
 at the island again." 
 
 "Why, Amy, there's nothing wrong, is there?" asked 
 the captain, who imagined that his niece had probably, 
 during his absence, got into one of her tantrums. 
 
 " Nothing wrong here at the island, but up at Cliff 
 Hall I'm afraid there is, or will be." 
 
 " At Cliff Hall ? What's the matter there ?" 
 
 " Uncle, I have been very near to letting out the secret 
 which I have kept so long. I've been almost crazy to tell 
 it, and would have done so, but Aunt Sallie made me see 
 that it was better to wait until you got back." 
 
 "But what is the matter?" asked Captain Gale, anx 
 iously, and fearing that Oswald Huron had been guilty of 
 some intemperate and outrageous act which had roused 
 Amy's quick and willing ire ; for Amy had always loved 
 Cora from the time that she had been an infant, smiling 
 like a little hooded cherub into nurse's face from nurse's 
 lap. Amy felt as if she had almost as good a claim to 
 Cora as anybody. In reply to her uncle's last question, 
 she answered, 
 
 " Uncle John," Amy sometimes said Uncle John, and 
 at other times Uncle Gale, "it is this. Cora Glencoe's 
 brother, a very handsome young man, has been down to
 
 184 TEKEL, 
 
 Cliff Hall on a visit, and all Cresvvood says that they are 
 in love with each other, and engaged to be married." 
 
 " May the great God prevent !" exclaimed Captain Gale, 
 starting up. " Who would have anticipated such a fatal 
 entanglement as this ? But are you certain there is foun 
 dation for these rumors ?" 
 
 " There undoubtedly is," answered Amy. " I have seen 
 them together myself, often, among the cliffs, and on 
 the strand, down by the Tarpeian Rock. This young 
 Huron, her brother, is a splendid-looking fellow, and no girl 
 that I know of in Creswood would turn her back to him." 
 
 "And Cora," said Captain Gale, "is too lovely to be 
 passed by ; and what is more against the purpose, she is 
 tender-hearted, lonely, and famishing for some worthy 
 object on which to lavish herself, and from which to claim 
 a lavish return. Amy, the time has come" said Captain 
 Gale ; " whether these rumors are true or false, the time 
 has come : for the longer this thing is delayed, the worse 
 it gets. I have always regretted that I did not fight it 
 out at the start." 
 
 " What are you going to do ?" asked Amy. 
 
 "Have you the courage," asked Captain Gale, "to be 
 firm and consistent in the fierce battle that will rage over 
 Cora as soon as I throw up the first signal light ?" 
 
 " If you will stand by me, uncle, I will have the courage 
 to do anything for that little girl. I have loved her and 
 bemoaned her almost as I would have done my own child 
 if it had lived, for little Cora Glencoe has had a hard, 
 hard life of it, and I am much to blame, and often feel so 
 down-hearted when I see her darling sad eyes." 
 
 " Of course I will sustain you. And not only that, but 
 Neville Huron, who is a different man from his brother, 
 will sustain you. You will only have to make a confes 
 sion, in court, and tell exactly the truth. You may be 
 reprimanded, or even fined for misdemeanor, but you need 
 not fear the reprimand, and I will pay the fine myself, in 
 the event there should be any. The fault is mainly upon 
 Maria Guthrie, she being a grown woman, and at that 
 time a permanent member of the Cliff Hall household, and 
 you but a thoughtless wild young girl, and only tempo 
 rarily engaged with the family. Moreover, Maria Guthrie
 
 OR CORA GLENCOE. 185 
 
 admits the fault as chiefly, if not entirely, her own, and 
 has sworn to it in an affidavit which I now have ready to 
 be produced upon occasion." 
 
 Captain Gale designed to so strengthen Amy that, 
 notwithstanding her fear of Oswald Huron, and law 
 benches, she might boldly proclaim the consistent truth, 
 and fearlessly stick to it. 
 
 " I was a superstitious fool," said Amy, " and it is only 
 within the last few years that I have got rid of my terror 
 about Oswald Huron being a necromancer. I'm afraid of 
 him yet, that is, he might shoot me, but even that 
 would not frighten me like the old terror." And Amy 
 laughed at her girlish dread of the Necromancer. 
 
 " Are the circumstances clear to your miud now ? You 
 will remember it has been fifteen years since," said Cap 
 tain Gale. 
 
 " As clear as on the day after the accident." 
 
 " Let me hear you repeat them." 
 
 Amy did so, and Captain Gale continued: 
 
 " That is correct. And now, as a strict preliminary 
 caution and injunction, let me impress upon you the im 
 portance of not discussing this matter with any person. 
 When the news runs like escaped lighting through Cres- 
 wood, a thousand tongues will be busy, and people will 
 be running to you to know about it, and one will say 
 that you stated so, and another one thus, until they will 
 confront you with witnesses who will swear that you said 
 everything that can be imagined. Do not say anything 
 about it whatever, except to tell them that when the case 
 is at the bar they may learn the facts from the evidence. 
 You will have enough to do to keep your account straight 
 when you are cross-examined, without having to encounter 
 ten thousand things which you might be reported as hav 
 ing said elsewhere." 
 
 Amy promised to keep her mouth under lock and key. 
 She then asked, 
 
 " When will you commence, uncle ?" 
 
 " For Cora's sake, I must wait until the last moment 
 before the next session ; for this matter will have to be 
 adjusted by law, I am satisfied. It would be cruel to open 
 the subject now, as Cora would be compelled to remain 
 
 16*
 
 186 TEKEL, 
 
 with Oswald Huron until her lineage was determined, 
 she in the mean while not regarding him as her father." 
 
 " But how do you know that Oswald Huron will not 
 give her up after he is told about it?" 
 
 "How do I know it? How do I know that the water 
 buoys the boat, or that the hyena loves blood ? It is his 
 nature not to give her up. He would not yield her if 
 he knew she was his brother's child, unless he should be 
 the first to discover that fact. Out of deference to his 
 own discovery, he might propose a restoration of the 
 daughter to her parents, but he will abide no other per 
 son's discovery on this or on any other subject." 
 
 " Then what is she to do when the business begins ?" 
 asked Amy. " She will be in his power until some result 
 is reached." 
 
 "I hardly know. I both feel and fear for her," said 
 Captain Gale. " When Oswald Huron's mind becomes 
 eclipsed by what he conceives to be a laudable spirit of 
 personal vindication, it is bloody and strange, and halts 
 at nothing; and 1 firmly believe that he would kill her, 
 rather than be defeated and compelled to give her up." 
 
 " You will go to sea and return then before you 
 attempt to do anything ?" 
 
 " Yes. I shall probably have time to make a couple of 
 cruises before the period for action." 
 
 " But what if her brother comes down to Creswood 
 again while you are at sea ?" 
 
 " That is a question to be considered," said Captain 
 Gale, reflecting a few moments. He then continued : " If 
 he does come, and you are not expecting me back when 
 he arrives, go to Cora and tell her that Graham Huron 
 is her brother. Tell it to her as coming from me, and she 
 will the more readily believe it. At all events, bind her 
 to keep it secret until I come." 
 
 " What if she will not believe me ?" 
 
 " She will at least await my arrival. You do exactly 
 as I tell you, and not a whit more." 
 
 Captain Gale again put to sea, steering in the path to 
 fortune over a pathless deep. 
 
 Indian Summer, with its azure haze, its frosts and yellow 
 leaves, was beginning to throw its dreamy spell upon
 
 OR CORA OLENCOE 187 
 
 tranquil Creswood, when Graham Huron made a second 
 visit to Cliff Hall. 
 
 It was hardly time for the Whitecap to be expected at 
 the island, and Amy Turnbolt grew very uneasy as she 
 thought of the task which was set for her to do, in the 
 making of her strange communication to Cora Glencoe. 
 She put it off from day to day, fearing to go to Cliff Hall, 
 and finding Cora attended by Graham whenever the young 
 girl left the Hall for a walk or ramble. 
 
 A week thus passed, and Amy was getting to feel 
 wretched, lest she should delay too long, suffer irretrieva- 
 'ble wrong to result, and merit the stern censure of Cap 
 tain Gale, and of her own conscience. She spent a great 
 deal of her time upon the Larboard Strand, hoping to 
 meet Cora unattended, but Graham was always in the 
 way. Growing desperate, she determined to separate Cora 
 from Graham the next time she should see them, and tell 
 to Cora what she had been commissioned to say. The 
 opportunity soon presented itself. About one o'clock one 
 pleasant Indian Summer day, she saw Cora and Graham 
 sitting upon the Tarpeian Rock, enjoying a picnic. Amy 
 nerved herself and started up the strand. Ordinarily, she 
 could have met either Cora or Graham without trepida 
 tion, but she now felt as if on an exhuming expedition, 
 and she went forward with something like fear and trem 
 bling. She walked slowly, attempting to fix in her mind 
 and on her tongue the exact words, and no more, with 
 which she was charged ; for the subject in hand was one 
 of deep interest to Amy, and once fully open for discus 
 sion, would be exhaustive of nearly every word in her 
 vocabulary. Irresolutely she approached the Tarpeian 
 Rock, until Cora recognized and spoke to her. Graham 
 bowed carelessly. 
 
 " We are taking a snack," said Cora to Amy. " Come 
 and share with us." 
 
 " Thank you, Miss Cora, I am just from dinner. I came 
 here to see you." 
 
 " Very well, I am here, and at your service. What 
 is it that you wish to see me about ?" 
 
 " I have something to say to you," said Amy, glancing
 
 188 TEKEL, 
 
 at Graham in such a manner that he would have been 
 dull not to have understood her. 
 
 " I am de trop," said Graham, smiling at Cora as he 
 proceeded to get down from the rock and step apart. 
 
 "Now Amy, or what must I call you?" asked the 
 young girl pleasantly. 
 
 " Call me Amy, or Aunt Amy if you like, for I am old 
 enough to be your aunt." 
 
 " Well now, Aunt Amy, what can we do for each 
 other ?" asked Cora very sweetly. 
 
 Amy felt like clasping Cora in her arms, and making a 
 clean breast of it. She glanced toward Graham to be 
 certain that he was out of ear-shot, for now was the 
 coveted time in which to make her revelation. But just 
 as she drew in a supply of breath upon which to begin, 
 she saw the Whitecap gracefully rounding the bluffs in 
 front of Cliff Hall and sweeping home to anchor. 
 
 "Bless me!" cried Amy, relieved and disappointed at 
 the same time ; "there's Uncle Gale and the Whitecap." 
 
 "What a beautiful boat!" said Cora, as she watched the 
 Whitecap cleave the wave, "and oh, how I should like to 
 take a ride on it !" 
 
 Amy thought that she had never seen Cora so bright 
 and unfettered as at this moment. She said, 
 
 " Uncle Gale would take you riding almost any time. 
 He gives us all a short trip down at the island whenever 
 he thinks we want it." 
 
 " I know he would take me," replied Cora, still watch 
 ing the queenly Whitecap. " But what was it that you 
 wished to say to me ?" 
 
 Amy hesitated whether to speak or wait and let her 
 uncle determine what should now be done. She decided 
 upon the latter course, and very prudently; for had she 
 ever opened her meuth, Cora would have won from her 
 everything that she knew, and perhaps more. But she 
 must answer Cora and account for requesting a private 
 interview ; and not knowing better what to say, she re 
 plied, 
 
 " It is something which Uncle Gale told me to tell to 
 you some time ago, but now that he has returned, it will 
 be best that he should tell you himself."
 
 OR CORA GLENCOE. 189 
 
 " That is not fair now, to make me curious and then 
 leave me so," said Cora, coming as near to a pout as she 
 ever did. It then flashed upon Cora's mind that this com 
 munication might have some connection with the prophecy 
 which Captain Gale had vouchsafed her on a previous 
 occasion, and she was impatient. " It is not fair now," she 
 repeated. "Can't you tell me yourself?" 
 
 "I know it is not fair," said Amy, "but it is best. 
 Uncle Gale will meet your curiosity more readily perhaps 
 than I could, and satisfy it better." Rather hesitatingly, 
 Amy asked a favor. "Miss Cora," said she, "will you 
 please let me see your hand ?" 
 
 Cora, who had been lunching with half fingers, pulled 
 off a glove and extended to Amy a perfect model of a 
 hand. Amy took it and kissed it. 
 
 " Now please let me see the. other." 
 
 Cora extended her other hand, which Amy took, kissed 
 likewise, and released. 
 
 " You are very kind," said Cora. 
 
 " I saw those little hands when they were not one-tenth 
 so large, and kissed them too," said Amy, losing a meas 
 ure of her prudence. 
 
 " Did you, indeed ?" exclaimed Cora brightly. 
 
 "Yes I did. I was your nurse once," added Amy, 
 losing yet more of her prudence. 
 
 " Why, you dear woman," said Cora affectionately ; " I 
 did not know that. Come and let me kiss your brow." 
 
 Cora plunged headlong down into Amy's heart when 
 she put her arms about her neck and kissed her, and smiled 
 sweetly in her face, and kissed her impulsively and cutely 
 again, and then pushed her playfully away, saying, 
 
 " There now, there's my love." 
 
 Amy would have died for Cora on the spot. Almost 
 overcome with an emotion half maternal, she withdrew 
 and went home. As soon as she could see her uncle 
 privately, she told him what the reader already knows, 
 adding from her secret gainings, 
 
 " Uncle, I fear the mischief is partly accomplished. I 
 asked to see her hands, and on one finger is a ring which 
 looks new and bright, and for all the world to me like an 
 engagement-ring. "
 
 190 TEKEL, 
 
 "What does an engagement-ring look like?" asked Cap 
 tain Gale, who did not pretend to be au fait in such 
 matters. 
 
 "I don't exactly know, but this looked just like one to 
 me," was the somewhat paradoxical reply, at which Cap 
 tain Gale would have been inclined to smile, had he not 
 been in too serious a mood. A very grave expression 
 came upon the mariner's face, for there was a duty im 
 mediately before him, which, however painful and delicate 
 it might be, was yet more dangerous than it was delicate 
 or painful. 
 
 "You must tell her, uncle," said Amy. 
 
 " I intend to tell him," replied Captain Gale. 
 
 Who, Oswald Huron ?" 
 
 "Yes; Oswald Huron." 
 
 Amy for a moment looked terrified ; but she had so 
 much confidence in the courage, discretion, oak-like firm 
 ness, and physical strength of her uncle, that her terror 
 subsided into mere anxiety. 
 
 " When and how will you tell him ?" she asked. 
 
 " I shall go up to Cliff Hall this afternoon, and tell him 
 in plain English. I trust that nothing has transpired be 
 tween Cora and Graham to make them regret their rela 
 tionship when it shall be discovered to them." 
 
 "'Cora is as pure as snow," said Amy. 
 
 " Pshaw !" said Captain Gale ; " I am not speaking of 
 her purity. I mean that it is to be hoped that the two 
 young people have not suffered themselves to become 
 lovers to such a degree as will make them unwilling or 
 disappointed to be brother and sister." 
 
 " I believe they are already lovers," said Amy. 
 
 " In that event," said Captain Gale, " love's young 
 dream must be rudely broken up. To know that they are 
 brother and sister will serve to soften their disappoint 
 ment, if not to displace it altogether." 
 
 " I hope you may come away in triumph and safety," 
 said Amy, going into the cottage. 
 
 Captain Gale, after sitting and reflecting awhile, got up 
 and went down to the Whitecap. Unlocking a chest, he 
 took out a revolving pistol which he was accustomed to 
 take to sea with him, where, upon one or two occasions,
 
 OR CORA GLEN CO E. 191 
 
 he had found technical use for it in restoring discipline 
 during the panic of furious storms. But if ever a man 
 flinched or mutinied in time of peril, that was his last trip 
 on the Wbitecap. Captain Gale could overlook or pardon 
 a little constitutional timidity, when the tempest roared, 
 and the air and sea were ablaze with fire, and the Ocean 
 Eagle went screaming and kiting through the lurid storm ; 
 but he never forgave that dogged submission which, min 
 gled with meanness, induced a man now and then to give 
 up, fold his hands in negative mutiny, and obstinately 
 refuse to do duty except under cover of a pistol tube. 
 
 CHAPTER XX. 
 
 IT was late in the afternoon when Captain Gale walked 
 up the Larboard Strand on his way to Cliff Hall. 
 
 He had not been upon the premises for more than 
 twenty-five years, and would likely never go upon them 
 again. 
 
 He was better aware, probably, than any one, that he 
 had no ordinary man to meet, and no ordinary interview 
 to conduct. 
 
 He was sensible of the personal danger he was about 
 to encounter, but he could not delegate the interview to 
 any other, and would not. 
 
 As he walked up the strand, bis usually resolute face 
 was doubly resolute with the determination to do his 
 duty, and to do it with such firmness and coolness as 
 would likely countervail the personal risk he would have 
 to dare, and carry convincing proof of the fact he was 
 about to reveal. 
 
 He found the Tarpeian Rock, which Cora so loved to 
 frequent, desolated of her sweet form and presence, and 
 he met no one in his way to Cliff Hall. 
 
 Nearing the mansion, a gloomy, ancestral looking pile, 
 he saw Oswald Huron standing in the main entrance, 
 which fronted to the south.
 
 192 TEKEL, 
 
 Oswald Huron, recognizing Captain Gale and his inten 
 tion of entering the front gate, turned about, withdrew 
 into the building, and armed himself. 
 
 As Captain Gale approached the door, Oswald Huron 
 again appeared, coming along the hall, and confronting 
 the captain as the latter stepped upon the threshold. 
 
 The two men halted and looked at each other, as if, on 
 Oswald Huron's part, they were the only two men on 
 earth, and he did not know that the other existed until 
 that moment ; and, on Captain Gale's part, as if he were 
 considering whether it was man or beast that confronted 
 him. 
 
 "An unsolicited honor," finally said Oswald Huron, 
 bowing to Captain Gale with freezing mock politeness. 
 
 " I come to offer you neither blandishments nor honors," 
 calmly replied Captain Gale. 
 
 " Probably to make a demand," said Oswald Huron, 
 showing his white teeth. 
 
 " You owe me nothing, and if you did, I should hardly 
 trouble myself to come to you for it." 
 
 " You are here then to grant me a favor, possibly ?" 
 was the rejoinder, in which a little fierceness and a good 
 deal .of sarcasm was mingled. He added, "I ask none, 
 sir." 
 
 "Mr. Huron," said the unmoved captain, "you might 
 question me for twelve months, and then conjecture for as 
 many more, and you would not even approach the cause 
 which brings me, consciously unwelcome, into your de 
 mesnes " 
 
 " Probably you will be so kind as to inform me, then, 
 before I invite you into ray house," said Oswald Huron, 
 who, during the interview so far, was leaning forward to 
 wards his visitor, with one foot advanced, as if in the act 
 of springing or rushing upon him. 
 
 " I do not court an invitation into your house. You 
 can invite me in or not. If I should go in, it would be 
 solely on account of convenience to myself. I can per 
 form my errand here." 
 
 " What is your errand, sir ?" 
 
 " It is one in which you are concerned ; not I. It 
 is one in which the interests are your own; not mine. I
 
 OR CORA OLENCOE. 193 
 
 am here, not from any anticipated pleasure, but from a 
 sense of duty. Although I come not to dictate to you, 
 you will do well to listen to me. And furthermore, to 
 put myself upon a proper basis, I will tell you, Mr. Oswald 
 Huron, plainly, that if you were the only person concerned 
 I should not have come at all." 
 
 " Gale," said Oswald Huron, with a dash of humor, " I 
 like your boldness. It entitles you to a seat at least. 
 Therefore, if your errand involves any discussion, for the 
 sake of convenience we will go in and be seated ;" and he 
 led the way, followed by the brave captain, into an ante 
 room, where each took a chair. 
 
 " Now, sir," said Oswald Huron, after they had settled 
 themselves, " I am ready to listen to you." 
 
 " Mr. Huron," said Captian Gale, " it is hardly necessary 
 for me to remind you that we have not for years regarded 
 each other as friends." 
 
 " That is plain enough so far," was the reply. 
 
 " Nor is it for the purpose of courting your favor that 
 I frankly admit and assert to you that I have as little 
 desire to injure you as to befriend you." 
 
 " Gale, I am convinced that you are not afraid to speak 
 the truth, and consequently I grant that you are sincere. 
 Had I known you better sooner, we might have been 
 better friends." This was said rather gracefully by the 
 proprietor of Cliff Hall. " But I am waiting for your 
 communication." 
 
 " What I am about to tell you," continued Captain 
 Gale, " will not only surprise and amaze you, but it will 
 stir you very deeply ; and as I approach the subject, I 
 wish to prepare you, only asking that you will endeavor 
 to be calm, and bring your reason, not your temper, to 
 bear upon it." 
 
 The countenance of Oswald Huron indicated that he 
 was becoming interested. Captain Gale continued : 
 
 " When I have made to you a revelation of fact, which 
 for years has been withheld from you, your first wonder or 
 question might be, ' Why has it been so long withheld ?' 
 and your next, ' Why is it now revealed ?' When I have 
 told you what it is, I will then endeavor to abate your 
 wonder and answer your questions." 
 
 IT
 
 194 TEKEL, 
 
 Oswald Huron was becoming excited in spite of himself, 
 and his efforts to maintain his calmness were commendable 
 if not successful. The surest way to unhinge the nerves 
 of a person is to mysteriously and portentously caution 
 that person to keep his nerves on their hinges. This thing 
 of preparing people for good or bad news is generally not 
 a good, but a bad plan. It is like bleeding a patient to 
 give the patient strength for a severer operation ; like ex 
 ercising a horse to the verge of fatigue preliminary to 
 the straining race. Captain Gale, however, had properly 
 conceived both the measure of his purpose and the mettle 
 of his man. It was not the sensibilities of Oswald Huron 
 about which he was solicitous, but the preservation of his 
 reason and moderation. The captain kept his eye upon 
 him as upon some doubtful and dangerous creature. Os 
 wald Huron waited for the captain to proceed. 
 
 " Mr. Huron, there are some strange things in this 
 world ; and one of the very strangest, but as true as it is 
 strange, is the fact, which I now announce to you, that 
 Cora Glencoe is not your child, but the child of your 
 brother Neville." 
 
 Captain Gale barely had time to deliver the words before 
 Oswald Huron sprang up, and, with electric eye, grimly 
 said, 
 
 "You are a liar /" 
 
 Captain Gale had also risen, simultaneously with his 
 adversary, for such he may be called. 
 
 " Oswald Huron," said the unruffled mariner, " in the 
 performance of a duty and the expiation of a delinquency, 
 I came prepared to ignore any insult which you might 
 offer me. I also came prepared to defend myself against 
 any violence you might unreasonably attempt upon me. 
 But I wish to address your reason, not your passions. 
 Take your seat now, and hear me. Then, if you con 
 sider me a liar, you shall be welcome to your considera 
 tion, so far as I am individually concerned." 
 
 Oswald Huron, glaring upon Captain Gale, slowly re 
 sumed his chair. There was but one circumstance which 
 curbed him and fortified him with sufficient reason longer 
 to listen. It was the well-remembered fact, which, at 
 times, flitted through his mind, that he had never known
 
 OR CORA GLENCOE. 195 
 
 the infant children one from the other ; and that, on the 
 night he went out and gathered up the mangled remains 
 of what he supposed to be his brother's child, a fearful 
 doubt had swept into his soul, which was only allayed by 
 the reflection that Maria Guthrie knew the infants, each 
 from the other, and that she had assured him the surviv 
 ing child was his own. When, therefore, he resumed his 
 seat, it was with an undetermined mind, which suggested 
 a mental inquiry as to the possibility of Captain Gale's 
 truthfulness, and the scope of his information on the sub 
 ject. Evidencing a reluctant willingness that Captain Gale 
 should proceed, he listened to a minute detail of the cir 
 cumstances surrounding the fact which bereft him of a 
 daughter. 
 
 Up to this time, Captain Gale had only referred to the 
 confessions of Amy Turnbolt. He then handed Oswald 
 Huron the affidavit which Amy had made more than 
 fifteen years ago, and but a short time after the calam 
 ity. Mr. Huron read the affidavit and passed it back. 
 Captain Gale then informed him why the imposition had 
 been practiced by the nurses, why the fraud was not 
 sooner exposed, and why, in view of Cora's brother, he 
 was compelled to make the revelation MW. Oswald 
 Huron, with all his fiery, sulphurous soul, was softened 
 and partly convinced. Relenting, he asked, with evident 
 sadness and concern, 
 
 " Captain Gale, is this, can this be true?" 
 
 " Mr. Huron, I am as firmly convinced that it is true as 
 that the sun shines to-day." 
 
 " Have you no other evidence than that of Amy Turn- 
 bolt? Aha!" he exclaimed, his eyes beginning to gleam; 
 " what of the other nurse ? What of Maria Guthrie ?" 
 
 " Her evidence is to the same effect, and yet stronger, 
 for she acknowledges the deception as one suggested and 
 enforced by herself, Amy being constrained by her terror 
 of you as a necromancer." 
 
 "Where is her evidence?" demanded Oswald Huron, 
 who was becoming nervous with well-founded excitement. 
 
 " I have it here," answered Captain Gale, who drew out 
 and delivered the affidavit of Maria Guthrie. 
 
 Oswald Huron took the paper and read it. A fierce
 
 196 TEKEL, 
 
 and sudden change came over him, and the very devil 
 looked out from his countenance. He had recognized the 
 handwriting of Lawyer May. He was about to tear the 
 affidavit to pieces, when Captain Gale snatched it from 
 his fingers. Springing up with uncontrollable fury, he 
 shouted, 
 
 "Conspiracy ! It is a conspiracy from hell!" 
 
 He drew a formidable knife, with*wtiich he had armed 
 himself when he first saw Captain Gale approaching his 
 gate. Captain Gale prepared himself for a desperate en 
 counter in the event that it could not be avoided. At this 
 moment, Cora Glencoe, attracted by the unusual noise, 
 and just returned from a ramble, came into the room, her 
 hair loose flowing, and she in most lovely woodland des 
 habille. Oswald Huron, in his rage, seized her by the 
 hair, and waved the glittering blade over her upturned 
 face, with every indication of eye and hand that he would 
 plunge it into her bosom. With the bound of a lion, Cap 
 tain Gale was upon him instantly, and with a rugged 
 strength which many years of peace had husbanded for 
 war, he bore the madman to the floor. Cora was utterly 
 confounded with amazement, fear, and horror. Graham 
 Huron, attracMd "hlso by the noise, and led by a habit 
 which he hsffof following up Cora wherever she went, 
 appeared at the door while Captain Gale was struggling 
 with Oswald Huron, and Cora standing by, pallid as wax. 
 In his hand Graham held the gem pistol which Hector 
 O'Dare had given to Cora, and with which he had been 
 practicing in the forest. Not understanding the situation, 
 and seeing a stranger pressing his uncle to the floor, and 
 Cora standing by, mute with accumulating terror, he 
 cocked his pistol and fired it at Captain Gale. But Cora 
 struck the weapon up, and the ball passed into the oppo 
 site paneling. 
 
 " Hold, Graham, my father is madf" cried the young 
 girl, vigorously interposing between the pistol and Captain 
 Gale. Graham was perfectly bewildered, and suffered Cora 
 to take possession of the pistol. 
 
 Captain Gale, with an outlay of all his strength, suc 
 ceeded in mastering the bloody tiger who struggled with 
 him. Disarming Oswald Huron of his dagger, and also
 
 OR CORA GLENCOE. 197 
 
 of a pistol which he had attempted to draw, Captain Gale 
 sternly said, addressing Graham, 
 
 " Young man, take these weapons and put them beyond 
 the reach of this wild-hearted man ; and don't be so handy 
 with your pistol. See you this little girl ? She is your 
 sister! Take her and protect her as such, until to-mor 
 row, from this incarnate fury, who is not her father, and 
 who would murder her. Woe to the Huron blood if you 
 do not heed my words." 
 
 Graham led Cora away. "Captain Gale suffered Oswald 
 Huron to rise from the floor, standing meantime upon his 
 guard. Oswald Huron was merely checked, not changed. 
 Disarmed, he was compelled to submit to the sturdy 
 strength of his vanquisher, and to permit him to depart in 
 his own chosen way. Captain Gale left the premises 
 without saying a word. He knew it would be useless. 
 A prudential impulse caused him to stop at the gate, and 
 consider whether he had not better return into the house 
 and 'renew his cautions more distinctly and comprehen 
 sively to Graham and Cora. But he had already been 
 forced to take more liberties with the premises and the 
 proprietor than was customary to be taken by one man 
 upon the fee-simple of another, and as i^vas growing 
 dark withal he determined to seek his home^nd postpone 
 any farther action until the morrow. It would have been 
 better if Captain Gale had increased his caution to the 
 young people, and convinced them that he was literal in 
 his meaning, for both Graham and Cora regarded his 
 words as tropic and hyperbolic, used in an extreme, and 
 not relating to their actual kinship, but to the exigency 
 which made it necessary for Graham to act as Cora's 
 brother in protecting her from an unnatural and murder 
 ous father. Although Captain Gale, upon reflection, was 
 sensible that such an interpretation might be applied to his 
 words, he trusted reasonably that no harm would result 
 before the morrow, from which time, with a relentless 
 activity, which, if necessary, would consign even the 
 Whitecap to worms and water-rot, he would prosecute 
 the cause of Cora Glencoe, until, for weal or woe, he could 
 say "it is finished." It was his intention first, to provide 
 in some way for Cora's safety and security from personal 
 
 17*
 
 198 TEKEL, 
 
 danger, and then to start immediately for Philadelphia to 
 confer with Neville Huron, whose buried paternal love, 
 plucked from the ashes of the little sarcophagus which 
 rested in the family vault, and resuscitated to the double 
 glow which burns for one who was dear to the heart, and 
 was dead, but liveth, would arm him with shield of brass 
 and blade of magic, to battle with his tiger-hearted brother 
 for the lost child of his loins. 
 
 CHAPTER XXI. 
 
 IN a far room of Cliff Hall sat Cora Glencoe in the very 
 acme of exquisite despair. She could not but regard her 
 own father as a murderer, in act and intent. She knew 
 that he had killed Lawyer May, years ago ; and now, with 
 her own eyes, she had seen his hand ready to strike the 
 killing steel to her breast; and what was more terrible 
 and sickening still, she had seen his eye gleam and glare 
 upon her with a tragic light which was the unmistakable 
 flash of the hell-fire that burned within him. 
 
 While she sat like a chained innocent in a wilderness of 
 woe, Graham Huron came into the room, sat down quietly, 
 and somewhat wearily said, 
 
 " He is busily writing." 
 
 " Graham," said Cora, while she seemed almost to droop 
 away from life, " I am as desolate as a lost soul." 
 
 Such words, coming from this brave little girl, who, from 
 her infancy, had been trained to fast upon hardness and 
 sorrow while looking upon softness and joy, and to famish 
 with emptiness of heart while other hearts seemed full 
 with plenty, meant that she was in the midst of the very 
 abomination of desolation. 
 
 " Cora," said Graham, with a depth of feeling which 
 shook his voice, " let me again tell you that you are dearer 
 to me than all the earth. I cannot offer you all the earth, 
 but I can give to you a world of love in some sweet spot, 
 out and away from this gloomy cell ; away where requiems
 
 OR CORA GLENCOE. 199 
 
 shall be turned to songs of joy, and your memory soothed 
 by the lotus leaf of love. Come with me, and cast your 
 burdens here," and he touched his breast. " I have spoken 
 to your father, and he has consented that you shall be mine. 
 Of two things he is one, a madman or a fiend. Heaven 
 grant, what I believe, that he is mad. It is my duty to 
 shield you from him, and your own duty to flee for a time 
 from his murderous frenzy. In coming with me you vio 
 late no command or ultimate calm wish of his. Let us go 
 to-night, and let my arm be your stay and shelter, and my 
 breast your home." 
 
 Cora fainted, and fell into the arms which were ready to 
 receive her. 
 
 On the following day there were strange words being 
 whispered from mouth to ear in Creswood, of events 
 transpired the evening before and during the night, and of 
 which Cliff Hall was the mysterious and gloomy center. 
 
 Captain Gale was astounded and thrilled to hear that 
 Graham Huron and Cora had fled the Hall, and had gone 
 to Mr. Hope's, where, it was supposed, they were secretly 
 married, and whence they went no one knew whither. 
 
 Captain Gale hired a dozen men, mounted them upon 
 horses, started them in pairs in every direction, and 
 charged them to spare neither flesh nor foray until they 
 had halted the couple and sent word back to him where 
 they could be found. To each pair of horsemen he in 
 trusted a short and hasty note for Cora. He then went 
 to Mr. Hope's and made inquiries. Finding the minister, 
 as he conceived, somewhat reticent and by far too tranquil, 
 Captain Gale unfolded to him the secret which had been 
 kept for years. Mr. Hope turned pale with interest. To 
 a question, he answered, 
 
 " No, they were not married by me. They wanted my 
 advice, that is, Cora did. I gave it, but whether it will 
 be followed or not, it is impossible for me to foretell. I do 
 not even know where he has taken her." 
 
 "Mr. Hope," asked the roused and anxious captain, 
 "do you believe in direct providential interposition?" 
 
 " I do," replied the old minister. 
 
 " How is it secured ?" 
 
 " By earnest prayer."
 
 200 TEKEL, 
 
 " Then down upon your knees, you godly man," cried 
 Captain Gale, volcanic with emotion and. concern, " and 
 let your soul teem with entreaty for this youthful pair. 
 Where is Garland? Let him join you, for his heart is 
 warm for supplication with the fire and blood of youth." 
 
 Garland was summoned, and made aware of the emer 
 gency. The two ministers knelt, and old Mr. Hope led 
 in prayer. Captain Gale also bent the knee, notwithstand 
 ing that on this particular ground of faith his mind was 
 skeptical. But in the way of duty he was determined to 
 take all chances, as, in a storm, a doubtful port was better 
 than none. As he listened to the venerable minister call 
 ing upon the great God in the very ire of earnestness, and 
 pleading as a child to a tender-hearted father, as if the 
 Father were there, manifest, and in the room, he almost 
 looked up to see that Face on which no man looks and 
 lives. When the supplication was finished, Captain Gale's 
 Amen came from the center of his sensibilities, and he rose 
 up greatly reinforced. After a few moments' silence, Mr. 
 Hope observed, 
 
 "I omitted to inform you, Captain Gale, that Cora 
 has her maid, a middle-aged woman, with her." 
 
 " That is a good indication," said the captain, who 
 took his leave by depositing upon a desk a bank-bill of re 
 spectable denomination, and saying, 
 
 " This, gentlemen, is for any purpose to which you may 
 see proper to apply it, Church, Sunday-school, or Char 
 ity, and if the good wishes of a sinner will do you no 
 harm, accept my earnest desire for your welfare." 
 
 When Captain Gale had gone, old Mr. Hope, turning 
 to his son, said, 
 
 " Garland, I fear I shall die yet before I get that bold, 
 good man into position." 
 
 "His heart is right," said Garland, "but his head is a 
 little out of plumb. If we could once get his head right, 
 he would be a pillar against which the gates of hell 
 would never prevail." 
 
 " Garland," said the old minister, continuing a subject 
 upon which he had dwelt before, "if I should die before 
 he is garnered, never lose sight of him. He is too good 
 a man to be risked from heaven ; and too good an ex-
 
 OR CORA QLENCOE. 201 
 
 ample to have outside of the church. You must get him 
 into the church, for, independent of his own salvation, 
 there are at least a score of adults who would follow him, 
 and no calculating how many of young and old who 
 would follow them. There w T as Guy Rapid ; a man of a 
 different type it is true ; a man whom the world would 
 regard as more polished and loftier in his aims, but in 
 trinsically the same character of man as Captain Gale. I 
 never could get him into the church. And yet we, and the 
 church also, temporally speaking, owe him more than is 
 due to all the citizens of Ores wood put together. He was 
 a good man," added the old minister, " and I hope that it 
 is possible for his soul now to be in heaven." 
 
 "Father," said Garland, changing the subject, "you 
 promised to tell me about the Rapid family, and what it 
 was that destroyed them in Texas. What was it ?" 
 
 " I will tell you, Garland, but it is under the seal of con 
 fidence. The family is not all destroyed. Cassel, as you 
 know, is yet living. When Mr. Rapid went to Texas, he 
 took with him a squad of rather wild young men who 
 were better suited to that region than to this quiet place. 
 He thought they were merely wild, without being vicious. 
 Among them was Jonas Aiken, who, when he left here, 
 was only a lad, but a bad one by inheritance and acquisi 
 tion. Also a man by the name of Gilders went out with 
 Mr. Rapid. Aiken and Gilders were the chief herders of 
 the Ranche. Mr. Rapid prospered with his herds, and as 
 his children, a son and daughter, grew up, he had them 
 educated at Eastern and Southern institutions. Cassel, 
 who is as beautiful as a Greek statue, you have seen. 
 You used to know him when he was a little leopard of a 
 boy. His sister Diana was as lovely as the dream of a 
 Mohammedan, and as high-hearted as Shakspeare's Lu- 
 crece. She was a pure and perfect blonde, a youthful 
 lady, and a most charming girl. I saw her once in New 
 York. She was just that kind of girl which makes young 
 men go mad, and sets old men like me by the ears with 
 delight. I know of no one to compare with her unless it 
 is Cora, whose life and experience however have obscured 
 her natural starlike luster, and marked her brow with a 
 pensiveness which should not be there, and which I hope
 
 202 TEKEL, 
 
 some day to see disappear, if this unfortunate elopement 
 does not terminate fatally. Well, marauding Indians were 
 devastating the settlements along the upper Brazos, and 
 Mr. Rapid, with Cassel, the Rosses, and other formidable 
 frontiersmen, went out to punish the savages. Diana was 
 left at Ranche Rapid with the negroes and the herders. 
 The Indians were overtaken, and, after a desperate battle, 
 were destroyed ; but Mr. Rapid was killed by an arrow. 
 Cassel went immediately home to arrange for the trans 
 portation of his father's remains to Ranche Rapid. But 
 when he arrived at the house and entered it, the fate of 
 his father dwindled to insignificance compared with that 
 which he looked upon. On a couch lay Diana, his sister, 
 dead. In her exposed white bosom a dagger was stuck 
 to the hilt, pinning to her bloodless flesh a note which 
 told of the Plutonian horror and insufferable pollution 
 through which she had passed. The note was from her 
 own hand and was addressed to her brother. The dagger 
 was her refuge, and it seemed that she had put the note 
 upon her bosom and thrust the dagger slowly from point 
 to hilt through it and into her heart, and had then lain 
 down, calmly and desperately adjusting herself to die. 
 From the note, Cassel learned that Jonas Aiken, taking 
 the opportunity of the absence of both father and brother, 
 had violated the chastity of his sister, and there she lay 
 in the embrace of Death, to which she had fled from the 
 embrace of a demon worse than Death. What he must 
 have felt I cannot tell you. No tongue could tell it, 
 or inexperienced heart feel it; but from that moment, 
 mercy for the Spoiler was forever routed from his heart. 
 And, Garland, this tragedy of the Larboard Strand, 
 I have the key to it ; for as certain as we now sit here, 
 the dagger which Captain Gale drew from the breast of 
 Jonas Aiken, is the same that Cassel drew from his sis 
 ter's bosom." 
 
 " Father," asked Garland, who was intensely interested, 
 " is there any punishment too great for the crime of which 
 Jonas Aiken was guilty ?" 
 
 " There is no earthly punishment which I can conceive 
 of too great, or even commensurate. Unlike most other 
 crimes, which are the result of provocation, poverty, or
 
 OR CORA GLEN CO E. 203 
 
 feud, this is a premeditated, unprovoked, blasting perpe 
 tration, by the strong upon the weak, for which, in this 
 immoral and abundant world, there is no excuse whatever. 
 The laws upon this subject are dastardly and unmanly ; 
 and until they are changed, noble souls will be guilty of a 
 slaughter. It is nature, irrepressible, and the laws 
 should provide for it, and not attempt to repress it. In 
 this State the law approaches to a just conception of this 
 crime. But in most of the States, under the laws, as 
 they now read, the punishment of a blameless man, who, 
 from overwhelming and irretrievable outrage, slays the 
 ravisher of his family honor and chastity, and thereby 
 strikes a fiend from the paths of his countrywomen, is 
 greater than the legal punishment of the fiend himself, 
 the fiend who desolates the hearts of families, and consigns 
 a weak woman, an innocent pure-hearted girl perhaps, to a 
 life-long tryst with shame, or to death by reason of un 
 bearable pollution, as in the case of Diana Rapid. Mean 
 while the Spoiler, if not turned loose upon a disgusting 
 technicality, works out his crime within the walls of some 
 prison-house, as one would work out a task, and, in a few 
 years, is again set free upon the community to desolate 
 more families. There should be a law as universal, as 
 firm, and as fatal, as the law of poison, which should be a 
 bulwark to the chastity of our homes. Every man knows 
 that if he violates the law of poison he will surely die. 
 To guard our countrywomen, chivalrous men should make 
 a law, the violation of which would be deadly bane to the 
 Spoiler. Cassel Rapid felt that the law mocked him, and 
 he disdained to appeal to it, as he would have disdained 
 to appeal to Satan to purge Hell of sin. He must visit 
 the punishment with his own hand, and to the extreme ; 
 but even then, the life of a thousand such men as Jonas 
 Aiken, such men as commit these crimes, is inadequate to 
 atone for the destruction of a single life like that of Diana 
 Rapid, who, to her brother, was a matchless sister, and 
 consummate object of affection and devotion. From the 
 day that his sister was buried, Cassel has hunted her 
 destroyer through jungle, forest, swamp, and city, with 
 unremitting and increasing purpose. There are many 
 senseless heads, speaking from senseless hearts, and say-
 
 204 TEKEL, 
 
 ing that if the spoiler is killed in the attempt, the slayer 
 is excusable ; but that after the act, and the lapse of time, 
 the blood being cool, the slayer is inexcusable. Can the 
 blood of a man ever cool, when it circles as it were in a 
 .furnace of ceaseless and innumerable fiery thoughts? 
 You may as well wait for the sun to cool. Every thought, 
 and every reflection, but aggravates the heat; and even 
 now, when I think of Diana Rapid, my old blood boils, 
 and my arm volunteers to strike. Jonas Aiken endeavored 
 to induce Gilders, the other herder, to be an accomplice. 
 Gilders refused, and would have averted this matchless 
 calamity, but Aiken drew a pistol, at the mouth of which 
 he bound Gilders, hand and foot, with a lasso, and then 
 went about his demon's work. Gilders did all that he 
 could to save Diana, and afterwards went with Gassel 
 upon the hunt for Jonas Aiken. At San Antonio, Cassel 
 started out alone. He had got upon the track, and follow 
 ing it, compelled it into the Llanos Estacados, where the 
 Comanche holds away. That determined boy went into 
 the very heart of the Comanche country, and into the 
 presence of its savage chief Espanto, whose name means 
 everything that is grim and fearful, and who had never 
 turned his knife from the scalp-lock of a pale face. Cassel, 
 in Spanish, told his mission. Espanto, in savage wonder 
 at the surpassing boldness and beauty of the youth, and 
 partly conceiving the royal spirit which brought him into 
 those terrible demesnes, called his warriors about him and 
 scoured his vast country for the guilty fugitive, but with 
 out success. Aiken escaped into the States. He had stolen 
 sufficient money from Colonel Rapid's desk at Ranche 
 Rapid, to enable him to change his location at will, and 
 take every advantage of his pursuer. He was ever upon 
 the alert, and being a man of cunning resource, he escaped 
 until his money was exhausted and be was compelled to 
 work and shift for a living. He came back to Creswood, 
 his old neighborhood. Cassel was here almost as soon as 
 he, and Jonas Aiken vanished as darkness vanishes from 
 light. Cassel left Creswood, and Jonas Aiken came back 
 again. Legally, I know nothing; but morally, I am cer 
 tain that Cassel Rapid slew Jonas Aiken. What the 
 Geologist had to do with it I do not know ; but I know
 
 OR CORA GLENCOE. 205 
 
 this, that in Cassel Rapid's breast there beats a heart as 
 noble as any that ever beat within the breast of man, an 
 unregenerate man," added the old minister, " such as, in 
 extremity, meets the commandment ' Thou shalt not kill,' 
 with the Mosaic Law, ' an eye for an eye, and a tooth for a 
 tooth.' It is true that I have seen but very little of Cassel 
 since he was a child, but the diamond has only to be seen 
 to be recognized. This thing has often moved me deeply. 
 I never can forget that pure, heroic girl, so spirited, lady 
 like, and lovely, and so well constituted to enjoy and dis 
 pense the brightest things on earth, but destined, alas ! to 
 be ruthlessly quenched by a foul fate, which, to her, was 
 insufferable and incurable, and beyond the reach of any 
 soothing hand but that of Death a fate too oft recurring, 
 among our women and virgins, for the honor of Ameri 
 cans and the laws which they vote into our statute books. 
 Cassel showed me the laws of almost every State in the 
 Union, upon this particular subject, and I can but denomi 
 nate the majority of them as legislative abortions shame 
 ful abortions. Before any human can condemn Cassel, let 
 that human put himself in Cassel's place, and answer the 
 self-question, ' What would I have done ?' When a legis 
 lator makes laws bearing so directly and vitally upon his 
 countrywomen, then, if at no other time, there should be 
 some manliness in his conceptions and his voice. He 
 should vote as though the woman whom he loved was sit 
 ting by his side and looking him in the eye. Men make 
 laws for themselves, and also for the women. Therefore 
 every principle of manhood and chivalry demands that 
 the laws should protect and defend our women, not as with 
 an aegis of paper and a spear of wood, but as a gentleman 
 would protect his lady, or as a strong man would defend 
 his house. Where a woman unfortunately has no mascu 
 line arm to guard her, the laws should so read as to cher 
 ish her, and be her knight, steel-clad and gallant for her 
 service. Lawgivers might well enliven their prosaic sec 
 tions with the spirit of chevaliers, when prescribing for 
 those who depend upon them, and who are trusting per 
 haps too confidingly to their honor." 
 
 " From the amount of gallantry they are accustomed to 
 display among the fair visitors in the lobby, one would be 
 
 18
 
 206 TEKEL, 
 
 reasonable in supposing that they would break a lance for 
 them in the forum of the assembly," observed Garland, 
 when his father, who, though an humble minister, was a 
 gallant-hearted man, had closed his remarks. 
 
 Garland returned to the school-room, and the old 
 minister soon became immersed in theological commen 
 taries. 
 
 CHAPTER XXII. 
 
 THE runners whom Captain Gale had sent in search 
 of Graham and Cora were coming in again for several 
 days, until the last of them returned, without a parti 
 cle of information having been obtained. The youthful 
 pair had not been heard of in all the region round about 
 Creswood. 
 
 Captain Gale had ascertained that on the night of the 
 elopement, three horses had been taken from Oswald 
 Huron's stables, and he reasonably presumed that Graham 
 and Cora had left Creswood on horseback, the third 
 horse being for Cora's maid. As to their mode of travel, 
 Mr. Hope was deficient in accurate knowledge, having, 
 in the surprise and disarrangement, forgotten or failed to 
 inquire about it. 
 
 Captain Gale had not been so outdone in all the days 
 of his life. He was as impotent as he felt himself to be 
 responsible. An irretrievable family disaster might occur, 
 nay, may have already occurred, and he, the only person 
 who might have prevented it, had neglected to do so until 
 now that he was as powerless as one stricken with the 
 palsy. 
 
 Oswald Huron, also, was making efforts to have the 
 fugitives arrested. By officers of the law he would have 
 Cora arrested as a minor, and Graham as a horse-thief, 
 and brought back to him. However willing he might 
 have been that the two young people, regarded as cousins 
 (and he so regarded them), should marry each other, he
 
 OR CORA GLENCOE. 207 
 
 could tolerate no infringement of his authority, though 
 that infringement should conduce to bring about the very 
 end at which he aimed. He was that kind of man, who, 
 never so hungry, would not suffer ever so good a dinner 
 to be thrust upon him. 
 
 Neither was Oswald Huron satisfied as to the character 
 of the elopement ; whether Graham had carried off Cora 
 as his presumed sister, or as bis bride. If she had gone 
 as Graham's sister, especially would he appeal to the law 
 for her recovery. He would have had Captain Gale 
 arrested, and held, for violently entering and acting upon 
 the premises of Cliff Hall ; but a cunning prudence 
 prompted him to forego such a measure, and in the suit 
 which he intended to institute for the possession and con 
 trol of Cora Glencoe, be she bride or sister, to impeach the 
 testimony of Captain Gale, and all testimony which he 
 might superinduce, upon the ground of enmity, vindictive- 
 ness, and conspiracy; backing up his impeachment, in 
 part, by what he would make to appear, and what he may 
 have actually considered, an unprovoked and unlawful 
 assault upon him in his own house, and in other part, by 
 establishing proof of the long and well known unfriendly 
 relations existing between himself and all who were likely 
 to be concerned against him. 
 
 Captain Gale was in a mighty muck of indecision as to 
 what was best to be done, or as to what could be done. 
 At times, this tenacious, anxious, and courageous man 
 was almost ready to throw the whole matter overboard, as 
 probably past cure, or altogether beyond the power of 
 arrest. But there were several considerations which held 
 him to his original purpose, and also whispered encourage 
 ment. First, his conscience pricked him, and would not 
 permit him to abandon Cora. After, he had confidence 
 in Cora, and a strong trust possessed him that she would 
 do nothing precipitately. That she had left the home of 
 Oswald Huron was not, in the estimation of Captain 
 Gale, an evidence of precipitation, but of prudence rather. 
 Her application to Mr. Hope for advice was favorable, and 
 indicated that notwithstanding she might and doubtless 
 did have great confidence in Graham, her confidence was 
 limited, and subservient to her trust in her old mentor,
 
 208 TEKEL, 
 
 Mr. Hope. The minister's advice could not be other than 
 good, and Cora, having long looked up to the now venera 
 ble man with reverence, and love, and profit, would not be 
 .likely to break away from his counsels unless under an 
 extreme and mighty stress. 
 
 Mr. Hope was no advocate of Quixotic measures, and 
 ordinarily would have detained the young girl by force or 
 persuasion, and advised Oswald Huron ; but when Cora 
 told him, as far as she knew, what had occurred, he took 
 the responsibility of charging her not to return home, not 
 to remain in the neighborhood, and not to say where she 
 was going ; but to go, keep her maid with her, do nothing 
 which could not be undone, and when the hue and cry 
 was over, to let him know where she was. 
 
 " I would like to know now where you are going, but it 
 may be better for me not to know, for I might be com 
 pelled by your father to divulge it in a magistrate's court, 
 or refusing to do so, suffer for contempt." 
 
 Such had been Mr. Hope's farewell words to Cora, as 
 she started out into the night, knowing as little as he did 
 whither she was going. 
 
 Opposed to Captain Gale's hopes and encouragements 
 was the fear that under the manly persuasions of Graham, 
 Cora would yield herself up, and forever elope from the 
 melancholy, grimness, and terror of the past, to a future 
 whose sunshine and promise were the more bright, seduc 
 tive, and summer-fair, on account of the starless night out 
 of which she was escaping. 
 
 Captain Gale determined to go to Philadelphia and lay 
 before Neville Huron the evidences of Cora's parentage, 
 and inform him of the very peculiar and alarming rela 
 tions which, it was supposed, existed between the brother 
 and sister. It was possible that he might find Graham 
 and Cora under their father's roof. 
 
 When Captain Gale arrived at Philadelphia, he sought 
 out Neville Huron, and made him master of the details of 
 the subject which induced his visit. The unprecedented 
 disclosures of Captain Gale threw the Huron family into a 
 maelstrom of hope, dismay, and indescribable feeling. At 
 first, Neville Huron thought it best to conduct a secret 
 search for Graham and Cora, but Captain Gale maintained
 
 OR CORA GLENCOE. 209 
 
 that rumor was more active than lightning, and more 
 pervading than mist, and that the sooner the world knew 
 all about it the better, that the news might spread, and 
 probably reach the young pair before the fleetest and most 
 untiring searcher would ever find them. All the news 
 papers were consequently charged with notices, the tele 
 graph spoke far and near, and quick-witted men were put 
 upon the alert and started in every direction. Among 
 these latter was our old acquaintance, Hector O'Dare. 
 
 O'Dare went alone, with all speed, to Creswood, out 
 running Captain Gale. He would trace the fugitives from 
 the doors of Cliff Hall from the very starting-point. He 
 soon ascertained that Creswood had learned nothing of 
 the whereabouts of Graham and Cora. He avoided Os 
 wald Huron, but from a loquacious stable groom at Cliff 
 Hall he obtained a minute description of the three horses 
 which had disappeared simultaneously with the elope 
 ment. O'Dare, whose experience as geologist had given 
 him a pretty good idea of the topography of Creswood, 
 knew that there were not many ways of getting out of 
 that neighborhood either by hoof or wheel. After having 
 collected every item of any value, or which it was possi 
 ble for him to discover, he went upon the main road which 
 led from Cliff Hall towards the interior. About half a 
 mile from the Hall he stopped where the roads forked ; one 
 fork leading westward, the other northward. With him 
 he had a good horse, which he had been leading. He sat 
 down on a log by the roadside, as if to whet his wits, and 
 pick his nose for a keen scent. O'Dare was puzzled. He 
 had no idea what his next step should or would be. Half 
 an hour passed, during which he began to think of other 
 things than his present enterprise. Finally, he heard the 
 sound of hoofs. His horse pricked up his ears, arched his 
 neck, and poising his head, neighed most lustily. The 
 neigh was answered several times from the direction of the 
 approaching hoofs, and in a few moments there came in 
 sight, on the north fork of the road, a man riding one 
 horse, leading another, and followed by two others. The 
 man, contrary, to rural custom, passed O'Dare without 
 greeting him good-day, or evincing any desire to be him 
 self greeted. 
 
 18*
 
 210 TEKEL, 
 
 " That's all well enough in the city," said O'Dare men 
 tally, and taking out a memorandum which he had just 
 made; " but people don't do that thing in the country as 
 a generality. I'll examine your marks. You have some 
 reason no doubt for keeping your mouth shut. Don't want 
 to invite tedious questions probably. Very well; I'll carry 
 on a little dialogue between me and myself, and see what 
 we will make of it. So :" 
 
 Question. " What animal is that which you are leading, 
 with a side-saddle on ?" 
 
 Answer. " It is Miss Cora Glencoe's dapple gelding, 
 and no mistake about it." 
 
 Q. " Just so. What sorrel horse is that, with three 
 white feet, shod all round, natural pacer, man's saddle, and 
 follows so well ?" 
 
 A. " It is Mr. Oswald Huron's riding-horse, which Mr. 
 Graham Huron took from the stables at Cliff Hall, on the 
 night of the elopement." 
 
 Q. " Just so. What bay mare is that, with a colt in her 
 belly, black mane and tail, left fore foot white, fox trot, side 
 saddle, and anxious to get home ?" 
 
 A. " She is the mare which Miss Huron's maid rode off 
 the night of the elopement." 
 
 Q. " Just so. Where did these animals come from, all 
 together, and in such good trim ?" 
 
 A. " They came from the direction of the runaways, 
 and the man who has them in charge will return in the 
 same direction, and Hector O'Dare will go with him." 
 
 " Thank you, sir," said O'Dare, as if addressing some 
 accommodating individual, while he laughed at his own 
 solitary drollery, and smiled at the prospect of game ahead. 
 " But I'll watch this man and see what he does with the 
 horses." 
 
 Approaching Cliff Hall and ascending an eminence, 
 O'Dare saw the man ride to within a hundred yards of the 
 stable inclosure, and there turn the three animals loose. 
 They started for their stalls. The man then wheeled his 
 horse and came rapidly back upon the road, barely giving 
 O'Dare time to get into position again where the road forked. 
 The man was about to hurry on without noticing O'Dare,
 
 OR CORA GLEN CO E. 211 
 
 when the latter, by a maneuver of himself and horse across 
 the road, compelled the countryman to draw up. 
 
 "Don't be in such a dreadful hurry," said the detective, 
 " and maybe you'll get company." 
 
 " Don't want any company," was the answer. 
 
 " But I do," insisted O'Dare. " I wish to find my way. 
 This is your road, and I think it's mine. We will go along 
 together for a little while at all events, and talk the matter 
 over. I may be able to learn from you whether I am on 
 my road or not. I won't trespass on your time by de 
 taining you here, but we can balance probabilities as we 
 jog along, and if I find that I am out, I can ride back 
 again, and no harm done." 
 
 " But you can't keep up with me," said the man, with 
 an evident desire to get rid of O'Dare. "I'm going in a 
 whoop." 
 
 " Oh, I can go in a whoop as well as not, and carry a 
 bucket of water on my head for that matter. My horse 
 can beat yours at any gait you may choose." 
 
 The man was riding a fine country horse. The rack 
 being probably his best gait, the countryman seeing that 
 O'Dare was likely to stick to him unless he could get away 
 by superior speed, told O'Dare to mount, at the same time 
 starting off, and shouting back, 
 
 "Rack!" 
 
 O'Dare nimbly mounted, and overtook the man with all 
 ease, for he was riding a trained horse of the best breed. 
 
 " Where are you going to ?" asked the disappointed 
 countryman, slacking his speed, and changing his tactics. 
 
 " That is exactly what I wish to find out," replied 
 O'Dare, with good-humored impudence. 
 
 "But how do you expect to find out?" 
 
 " From you," said O'Dare, with cool presumption. 
 
 " How the devil do / know ?" demanded the exasperated 
 countryman, whose eyes began to snap with kindling ire. 
 
 "You might consider the matter for the sake of good 
 company," said O'Dare, with no whit of his persistency 
 abated. 
 
 "But I don't want any company." 
 
 " You don't ?" 
 
 "No, I don '*. I
 
 212 TEKEL, 
 
 " I do, though," said the detective. 
 
 "Well who's to have his way now, you or I?" de 
 manded the countryman, who seemed to think that matters 
 had come to a pretty pass when a man in a free country 
 couldn't choose his company. 
 
 " I !" was O'Dare's answer. 
 
 " You are the dam'dest man I ever heard of," said the 
 countryman, who halted his horse and indignantly looked 
 upon the strange customer who seemed determined to stick 
 to him like a burr. 
 
 "I'm just that very thing," assented O'Dare, who like 
 wise halted his horse and faced his unwilling companion. 
 
 " Look here, Mister, you may find it a little dangerous 
 riding with a man against his will, and the more so the 
 farther you get. Do you see this ?" and the countryman 
 tapped the butt of a pistol which was belted to his waist. 
 
 " I have two of them," said O'Dare, with provoking 
 nonchalance, " and I can beat you shooting with my left 
 hand." 
 
 " If you don't leave me," said the man, who hardly knew 
 what to make of his companion, " or let me leave you, the 
 very first house I come to I'll have you arrested as a 
 highwayman." 
 
 " Stand and deliver, then !" said O'Dare, presenting a 
 pistol which covered the man's breast. " I'll have the 
 benefit of your arrest at least." 
 
 " Do you want my money ?" asked the countryman, who 
 had been taken off his guard. 
 
 " Yes," said O'Dare, sternly, " and your pistol, and your 
 horse. We'll see who is quickest at an arrest." 
 
 The countryman prepared to dispossess himself, when 
 O'Dare, putting up his pistol, very pleasantly said, 
 
 "Neighbor, you misjudge me entirely. I do not want 
 your money, or your arms, or your horse ; but I do .want 
 your company. Come now, don't be so exclusive; give 
 me graciously what I need, and what will leave you none 
 the poorer ; be neighborly, and I think we can get along 
 together as softly as a chunk floating down stream." 
 
 The countryman, greatly relieved at not being robbed 
 of his valuables, rode along with doubtful confidence in 
 his companion, while O'Dare secretly amused himself by
 
 OR CORA OLENCOE. 213 
 
 watching the suspicion that lurked in the comers of the 
 man's uneasy eyes. 
 
 We will leave these two agreeables to agree or disagree, 
 while we join Captain Gale, remarking by the way that 
 O'Dare knew he was on the right trail, and was going to 
 stick to it at all hazards. He was confident that the man 
 had come from the direction of Cora and Graham. The 
 manner in which he had returned the horses evinced a de 
 sire and purpose to come and go without being seen, sus 
 pected, or followed, or in any way connected with the 
 fugitives. O'Dare might have told him squarely his own 
 purposes, and why he was so fond of his company all at 
 once, but the detective judged correctly that the man would 
 have put no faith in him, but rather would have considered 
 him a citizen of Creswood, in the interests of Oswald 
 Huron, and in search of the very parties the finding of 
 whom would be contrary to the interests or desires of the 
 countryman. But O'Dare considered himself a match for 
 any single man, and now that he had the countryman 
 within his grasp, he would worry him into a spell of sick 
 ness before he would suffer himself to be outdone, or thrown 
 from the track, which he doubted not would lead him just 
 where he wished to go. " Ride on, my hearty," said 
 O'Dare jocosely to himself; " I'll keep within hoof clatter 
 of you if I have to starve for a week." 
 
 Captain Gale took advantage of his visit to Philadelphia 
 to make some exchanges of produce for merchandise, which 
 would render it necessary for him to put into that port 
 with the Whitecap. 
 
 . Arriving at home, he found Creswood agog. Innume 
 rable rumors and tales were upon the wing, out of which 
 could be extracted nothing but confusion, and the single 
 fact that the three horses, which had been carried off by 
 the fugitives, had returned, no one knew how or whence, 
 and were found quietly browsing a short distance from 
 the stables of Cliff Hall, saddled and bridled, and in good 
 condition. 
 
 Captain Gale also learned that he himself was inextrica 
 bly mixed up with the events transpired and transpiring 
 at Cliff Hall, and that, on account thereof, the citizens had 
 never been able to determine whether they were called
 
 214 TEKEL, 
 
 upon to mourn a catastrophe, or rejoice over a happy but 
 undiscovered or unannounced denouement. In answer to 
 a thousand and one questions, the mariner simply sug 
 gested to the curious and overcurious that it would be 
 just as well for them to "belay their impatience." 
 
 Captain Gale trumpeted his crew from the hills, and 
 having stored everything snugly, set sail up the coast, 
 that is to say, northward. Not being blessed with a very 
 jealous wife, he did not hesitate to hug the shore ; and 
 wherever he could touch it he did so, buying produce and 
 stowing it away in his new and capacious Whitecap ; for 
 he was on his way to Philadelphia to meet his engage 
 ments. His progress was slow on account of his stop 
 pages, and on the second day, in the afternoon, he was not 
 more than thirty miles by coastline from Gale Island. 
 He. was passing a section of abrupt shore wall against 
 which he had never ventured to anchor, for it was a bad 
 place for breakers. With his glass he was examining the 
 bluffs more critically than he had ever done before, with 
 the view of determining whether there could possibly be 
 an eligible spot for casting anchor and establishing a fair- 
 weather trading post. While scanning the shore, he spied 
 a man waving a flag, and, to all appearances, hailing the 
 Whitecap. Shifting his helm, he cautiously ran the ves 
 sel in towards the shore, and while he stood upon the 
 wind, a shouting conversation ensued between himself 
 and the man with the flag, the flag being a large hand 
 kerchief. 
 
 " Where are you bound ?" 
 
 " Philadelphia." 
 
 " Can you take a passenger and horse ?" 
 
 " Yes. How's the water next to shore there ?" 
 
 " Don't know ; but it looks deep. Send your jolly boat 
 ashore and take soundings." 
 
 " Teach a tar to tie a knot, will you ? But where do 
 you wish to go ?" 
 
 " Out of this wooden country." 
 
 "Can't you swim ?" 
 
 " Yes, but I'm not in a hurry ; I'll sail with you." 
 
 "Ha! ha, h-a!" 
 
 Captain Gale, instead of anchoring and going ashore in
 
 OR CORA GLEN COS. 215 
 
 a small boat, very carefully and very skillfully lodged the 
 Whitecap against a natural pier, and to his surprise met 
 
 " Mr. Geologist !" 
 
 "Just so," said O'Dare. "Interesting country this." 
 
 "Any dead horse around here mammoth bones or 
 old bird-nests ?" asked Captain Gale, with rather a sly 
 look at the whilom geologist, in whose assumed character 
 the mariner had never put much faith. 
 
 " Nothing more ancient than coon tracks and pheasant 
 wallows," answered O'Dare, laughing. 
 
 From far up a pathway, which, like a straggling thread, 
 led to the very top of the hills, there came a pure moun 
 tain cry, and down the pathway sped a young girl, agile 
 as the wild chamois, and stopping not, until, with the 
 spring of a squirrel, she was in the arms of Captain Gale, 
 with her own tender arms clasped tightly about his sturdy 
 neck. It was Cora. She had seen "Whitecap" in plain 
 letters on the vessel, and to her who had never been away 
 from home until now that she was away under such 
 peculiar circumstances, that name was as sweet as a 
 babbling brook would be to the traveler in some scorching 
 desert. 
 
 Graham soon made his appearance. The landing of a 
 vessel at that no-port was as unexpected as it was without 
 precedent, and all the inhabitants, some half-a-dozen, came 
 down to open their eyes upon it. 
 
 Hector O'Dare, who had stuck to his man like a mother 
 less colt to a stray mare, or poor kin to rich relations, had 
 succeeded in finding Graham and Cora. The countryman, 
 who eventually was made to understand the incentive for 
 so much pertinacity and audacity on the part of O'Dare, 
 got to believe that the detective was a capital fine fellow 
 and regretted to see him preparing to leave the neighbor 
 hood by sea ; for by land, he would have gone half a day's 
 journey with O'Dare, simply for the pleasure of his com 
 pany, which, in the beginning, was so extremely irksome 
 to him. 
 
 O'Dare succeeded in getting his horse aboard of the 
 Whitecap, after which he and Captain Gale went apart 
 for a talk; for Cora had whispered something into the cap 
 tain's ear while she hung about his neck, and he felt will-
 
 216 TEKEL, 
 
 ing to anchor for twelve hours, if necessary, rather than 
 sail away empty-minded upon the subject which was 
 nearest his heart. 
 
 CHAPTER XXIII. 
 
 THE time may be remembered when Oswald Huron, 
 from an east window and through a telescope, saw Graham 
 and Cora clasping hands and embracing in the moon. 
 For a moment we must go back to that time. 
 
 When Graham first came to Cliff Hall, Cora very 
 naturally was delighted with him, and he very naturally 
 was enchanted with so sweet and lovely a youn$ cousin. 
 There was all the difference between Cora and the girls 
 whom Graham had been accustomed to tryst with, as 
 there is between metropolitan atmosphere and pure hill 
 air ; and before he was aware of it, Cora, to use his own 
 words, had bewitched him, and he, with the ardor of a 
 young lover, but the caution of an old one, consequently 
 laid siege to her heart. 
 
 If it should appear strange that Graham, accustomed 
 to the fascinations, dash, and spirit of fair and fashionable 
 city girls, should so readily have loved Cora, with her 
 simple dress, her woodland air, and her untrite talk, 
 sweet and thrilling as passion-murmurs, but weighted 
 and depreciated by an element of sense, it will appear still 
 more strange that Cora, to whom Graham's advent at 
 Cliff Hall was like some brilliant meteor lighting up a 
 gloomy vale, did not return bis love, other than as an 
 affectionate cousin. It was in the young girl's code that 
 first cousiirs, with very little more propriety than brothers 
 and sisters, could either love as lovers, or marry as men 
 and women ; though a theoretical and paper code, never 
 yet put to the test, might have been pierced and torn 
 to pieces by Cupid's amorous archery. But upon first 
 greeting, Cora had given her love to Graham unreservedly 
 and tenderly as a cousin, and that love had become fixed 
 in its character and temper, as the waxen seal is fixed
 
 OR CORA GLEN CO E. 217 
 
 when it is stamped and cooled, or as original volcanic 
 ore is fixed in its combinations. To change it, she must 
 pass through fire and fusion. Through the fitful fires of 
 Cliff Hall, built by Oswald Huron, she was passing every 
 day, and though her susceptible and exquisite nature 
 never could become tempered to them or acclimated, her 
 moral nerve had been strung to the snapping-point, where 
 fortitude, utterly discouraged, subsides into supine hope 
 lessness : and into such hopelessness Cora inevitably sank 
 when Oswald Huron waved the murderous dagger over 
 her head, with a yet more murderous eye. Her own 
 father to be her murderer ! This was an extreme heat 
 which was affecting the crystallized cluster of principles 
 which formed her code, and made her wail out that she 
 was as " desolate as a lost soul." Added to this was the 
 apt and knightly urging of Graham that she should make 
 his breast her home. But heat does not always melt, 
 it sometimes hardens, as with the process by which the 
 diamond is said to be produced. Cora, with all her past 
 life before her eyes, with the scenes through which she 
 had just passed standing out in bold and fearful relief, felt 
 that the hour had struck when she must choose between 
 bitterness on the one hand and gall upon the other. An 
 overpowering conflict in her bosom stagnated her blood. 
 She fainted, and fell into Graham's arms, those arms 
 which had never yet held her statuesque sweet form, ex 
 cept when once upon a time, to gratify his intense longing, 
 and in giving him a farewell, she had suffered him to 
 clasp her hand and give her a brotherly good-by caress, 
 all of which demonstrativeness or tenderness, against the 
 chaste bosom of La Luna, Oswald Huron bad observed 
 from his east window, through his telescope, and chuckled 
 over. 
 
 When Cora recovered her consciousness, her maid was 
 in the room with her, almost making a dead darling of her. 
 Graham also Avas anxiously there. 
 
 " What shall be done ?""asked the young man, as Cora 
 got up, looking like some frightened captured bird, which 
 would fain escape. 
 
 " It is night, is it not ?" asked the young girl. 
 
 "Yes," said Graham ; "it is nine o'clock." 
 19
 
 218 TEKEL, 
 
 " Graham, is the world all as hard as it is here ?" 
 
 " No. There are many places as bright as this is dark, 
 and where the vicissitudes are as soft and fair as here 
 they are hard and gloomy, if you will but come with 
 me." 
 
 "Miss Cora," said the maid, "listen to the brave gen 
 tleman, and go with him. I belongs to you, and I'll go 
 with you to the world's end. This is no place for the like 
 of you." 
 
 " Aunt Mag," said Cora to the maid, " get yourself 
 , ready. Graham, take me to Mr. Hope's. From there we 
 will adventure." 
 
 The maid was but too willing to get away from Cliff 
 Hall, and was ready in a trice. 
 
 Cora, by her interview with the old minister, was 
 strengthened and confirmed in the policy which she had 
 conceived to be her duty to herself and to others. 
 
 By the light of stars the party of three set out, not 
 knowing so much where they were going, as caring that 
 they were leaving Cliff Hall behind them. 
 
 In the silent night-gloom of the forests which they trav 
 ersed, Graham renewed his entreaties of love. Cora re 
 sisted him firmly, but with an affectionate consideration 
 which only served to check him for the while, and to 
 throttle instead of destroying his hopes. 
 
 They rode all night. Cora was chilled through, and 
 became sick with fatigue and cold. The road had dwindled 
 into a bridle-path, and seemed about to terminate in track 
 less woods, when the dawn, coming up from the east, re 
 vealed to them, just ahead, the dimpled, tumbling sea. 
 Approching, they came upon a country-house overlooking 
 the ocean. Dismounting, they were kindly and curiously 
 received and entertained by the family in occupation 
 plain, honest, and surprised-looking people. Graham gave 
 out that he and his party were lost, whioh was as true 
 as the Gospel itself, for he had not the most remote idea 
 of his immediate whereabouts. 
 
 Resting a day and night, Graham, professing to be 
 charmed with the surrounding scenery, but secretly en 
 chanted with the romantic situation in which he now found 
 himself with Cora, and not knowing or much caring what
 
 OR CORA OLE NCOS. 219 
 
 better to do, engaged to remain with the family as long 
 as he might find the locality pleasant and novel. 
 
 It is not at all improbable that the family suspected that 
 they were entertaining a Gretna Green party, but the fact 
 that Graham and Cora occupied different rooms, and the 
 rather distinguished appearance of the young couple, to 
 gether with the unusual appendage of a maid, convinced 
 the country folk that they were at all events harboring 
 respectability. 
 
 After a number of days had passed, Graham, who be 
 came more and more unwilling to terminate his direct 
 hourly guardianship of Cora, and who, like Cortes, was 
 willing to burn his ships, cut off retreat, and force his 
 fortunes to complete establishment or complete overthrow 
 and annihilation, compounded with his landlord to deliver 
 at Cliff Hall the three horses which had been taken from 
 Oswald Huron's stables. In order to effect the clandestine 
 delivery of the horses, Graham was compelled to confide, 
 in a measure, the situation of his affairs to the landlord, 
 and also to confide to the cautious countryman, in fee, a 
 seductive amount of cash. 
 
 O'Dare was just in time to secure an unwilling guide to 
 this country spot, which was so secluded and so little 
 thought of that, in the general search for the fugitives, it 
 had either been overlooked or ignored. 
 
 It is not necessary to give O'Dare's experience with the 
 countryman, but many a time has he laughed over it as 
 one of the raciest rides he ever enjoyed. He outmaneu- 
 vered his man at last, and came upon the fugitives. He 
 took Graham apart and overwhelmed him with the revela 
 tion of his relationship to Cora. 
 
 The feelings which were stirred up and created in the 
 breast of the young man are beyond our power to conceive 
 or put to pen. They were doubtless a mixture of every 
 thing akin to amazement, disappointment, gladness, re 
 gret, pain, pleasure, and chagrin. 
 
 To Cora, this life-reversing fact came like a pregnant 
 wonder out of the very heavens. A troop of revolutionary 
 emotions swept through her bosom, succeeded by a pure 
 and ravishing delight, gushing in and out of her heart and 
 singing its songs of joy. This, then, was the glad thing
 
 220 TEKEL, 
 
 that was to come to her, of which she had been admon 
 ished by Captain Gale, into whose stout arms she rushed 
 from the hill-tops and sprang, agile with new life, and 
 hope, and joy. 
 
 We are now brought up to the time when Captain Gale 
 landed the Whitecap at what might be called No-port, and 
 Cora hung upon his neck like a wreath of beauty about 
 the lion's mane. 
 
 A few words with O'Dare and Graham apprised Captain 
 Gale that Cora, with a veteran fortitude and rocklike firm 
 ness, had passed unharmed through the peculiar and ex 
 treme dangers and seductions by which she had been beset 
 as by bristling bayonets, clinging, even in the very depths 
 of her despair, to the horns of that altar on which she 
 was accustomed to make sacrifices of all that she deemed 
 wrong, and about which she wove perennial garlands of 
 what she deemed goodly and right. 
 
 The conscientious and anxious mariner, who keenly felt 
 his responsibility in respect to Cora, was never so relieved, 
 exalted, and enthused before. He broke away after the 
 young girl, and finding her, cried with fiery admiration and 
 affection, 
 
 " Come, you glorious, steel-built little woman, and let 
 me press you again to that breast from which you have 
 heaved the heaviest cargo that ever weighed upon it 1" 
 Catching her in his arms, he said, almost beside himself: 
 " God bless you for a regular little lightning-rod !" 
 
 Cora disappeared into Captain Gale's capacious embrace 
 like a bird into a wooded hill-side, or a cricket into the 
 breast wool of a bear. What with his immense whiskers, 
 his sailor's overcoat, and the gauntlets which he held in his 
 hand, he could hardly find Cora when he came to release 
 her. He put her down, and, looking at her almost wist 
 fully, with vigorous staccato, he continued, 
 
 "You brave, gallant, little craft; never will you want 
 either captain or crew as long as my old head is hot. I 
 could almost eat you up, you sweet dove." 
 
 Cora, in her joy, could not forbear laughing at the 
 stormy captain, notwithstanding she appreciated him 
 thoroughly. With genial playfulness, not unmixed with 
 earnestness, she said to him, while she looked up in his 
 face with her bright, brave eyes,
 
 OR CORA GLENCOE. 
 
 " Captain Gale, somehow I feel that you and I could 
 whip the whole world." 
 
 " And then challenge the moon," replied the captain ; 
 " I, with my strength, and you, with your sense and 
 sweetness." 
 
 Graham and O'Dare now approached. Cora had recog 
 nized O'Dare as the geologist of Creswood, and she was not 
 now certain how to classify him. She did not contradict 
 his character, however, and at this moment addressed him 
 thus: 
 
 " Mr. Geologist, as you are about to leave us, I wish to 
 return to you this pistol which you were kind enough to 
 press upon me. I told you then that it was a demon, and 
 it has proved itself; for it came near to killing my dear, 
 firm friend, Captain Gale." 
 
 "It might have been called upon to kill as great an 
 enemy as he is a friend," answered O'Dare, taking the 
 pistol. In view of Cora's daily proximity to Jonas Aiken, 
 down on the Larboard Strand, O'Dare's conscience had 
 urged him to do what he had done to add to her security, 
 and the caution of his mission had restrained him from doing 
 or saying more. 
 
 In the midst of her joy, Cora could not but feel sad 
 when she thought of Creswood, and of Cliff Hall, from 
 which her destiny, as she read it, would take her away 
 forever. It was probably best, however, that her happi 
 ness should be tempered somewhat with sadness ; for she 
 was by no means completely emancipated from her bond 
 age, and might yet count her future as uncertain as her 
 past bad been pent and gloomy. Over her head was a 
 thunder-cloud, as black as night, and from its bursting she 
 was to be saved, or by it be engulfed. But Cora looked 
 upon her future as secure, and her mind was divided 
 between the future and the past. She had but few filial 
 ties to sunder, it is true ; and, outside of the Creswood 
 School, and the scope of the Larboard Strand, and the 
 bird-singing forest, few pleasant memories to woo her 
 back into the dead years. But her mind must go and 
 dwell upon Oswald Huron, her uncle, once her father, 
 and picture her life and association with him from infancy 
 almost up to the present hour. Compassion, and roused 
 
 19*
 
 222 TEKEL, 
 
 latent affection even, now mingled with the horror which 
 his image called up. Except upon a memorable and recent 
 occasion, Oswald Huron had been fitful, fierce, and ter 
 rible, not upon Cora, but about her, and within her un 
 happy and horrified ken : she had never felt personal fear 
 of him, for ever and anon she had met him upon a ques 
 tion of right and wrong, involving herself essentially and 
 directly, and he had never failed to yield to what he 
 denominated her " incorrigible stubbornness." Also, he 
 had often, when in the mood, fascinated her by his brilliant 
 conversations, in which, with her, as with no other person, 
 he gave freedom to bis thoughts and fancies, frequently 
 discussing both sides of a question, and appearing as Paul 
 and Saul at one and the same time. These conversations, 
 or disquisitions rather, swayed Cora's mind as they pro 
 gressed, but when he would finish and she have, time to 
 reflect, it was rarely that she did not discover a meta 
 physical unsoundness in his premises and deductions. 
 He would have no one to talk to now, thought Cora, and 
 with all her past experience with him she could not but 
 feel sad to leave him in his solitary gloom. Then there 
 was Creswood, and the strand, and the sea, with all their 
 painful, pensive, sweet associations ; it would be sad in 
 deed to leave them all forever. And there was her dog, 
 and her dapple gray, each of which she must leave behind. 
 A feeling of reproach came into her heart as she thought 
 of her faithful dog, which, she doubted not, was howling 
 desolately for her at that moment, or frantically snuffing 
 the wind to find out where was his lost mistress. 
 
 Graham wished to take Cora to Philadelphia on the 
 Whitecap with Captain Gale and O'Dare, but Captain 
 Gale did not think it a prudent step, for several reasons ; 
 Cora's parental allegiance not having been established, or 
 determined, or defined, by law, admission, or otherwise. 
 Oswald Huron had already denounced the evidence of 
 Cora's lineage as the fruit of a conspiracy, and there were 
 too many circumstances to bear him out. It was not at 
 all improbable that the " conspiracy" view of the inevita 
 ble controversy would appear the most reasonable, natural, 
 and best sustained, to whatever judge, jury, or umpire it 
 might be submitted. Oswald Huron could prove strong
 
 OR CORA GLENCOE. 223 
 
 probable motiv* other than for the sake of justice and 
 legitimacy, and long, unusual delay criminal in fact in 
 all the affiants, witnesses, etc. whose testimony he would 
 be called upon to oppugn. He could make it appear that 
 Lawyer May had lived and died his enemy. He had 
 himself driven Maria Guthrie from Cliff Hall. Therefore, 
 the affidavit of the inimical Maria Guthrie, in the hand 
 writing of the inimical Lawyer May, would be of little or 
 no weight. Again : he would prove that Captain Gale 
 was his living enemy ; that Amy Turnbolt was Captain 
 Gale's niece ; that Captain Gale had written out her affi 
 davit, and would doubtless control her as a witness. In 
 conclusion : that it was a four-handed conspiracy, gotten 
 up by four persons, all friendly to each other, and all in 
 imical to him ; that the conspiracy was almost overthrown 
 years ago by the death of Lawyer May, and was only 
 now revived by Captain Gale's increasing enmity and vin- 
 dictiveness, which his late violent conduct at Cliff Hall 
 would go far to indicate and prove. 
 
 The master of the Whitecap was aware of the weak 
 links in his armor, and would do nothing more whatever, 
 unless it should be absolutely essential to the issue, by 
 which Oswald Huron would be furnished with additional 
 weapons. He would, if possible, avoid any and every 
 appearance of arbitrary and vindictive action. For these 
 reasons he informed Graham that he could not ship with 
 Cora, on the Whitecap, for Philadelphia or any other port. 
 
 " What shall be done, then ?" inquired Graham of Cap 
 tain Gale and O'Dare. " She cannot go back to Cliff 
 Hall. Nor can she stay here." 
 
 "Why can't she stay here ?" asked O'Dare, as if it was 
 the most eligible spot on the map. Graham looked at 
 him in blank surprise, approaching to indignation. 
 
 "What!" said he, "remain in this wilderness, and in 
 such a rookery as that up on the hill I" 
 
 "I could take her," said O'Dare, paying very little at 
 tention to Graham's exclamation points, "to a place where 
 none but an angel would ever find her. But it might not 
 be pleasant, at all events not so pleasant as here. This 
 is a spot which only a rambling fool would be at all 
 likely to discover after sunrise," added O'Dare, laugh-
 
 TEKEL, 
 
 ing at Graham ; for Graham had discovered it, but before 
 sunrise. " Therefore it is a place of security. When we go 
 to Philadelphia (Captain Gale and I not you and your 
 sister), the Whitecap, on her return-trip, if the sea is in 
 as good a humor for landing as it is now, can bring you 
 everything but society and a billiard-saloon to make this 
 a very agreeable place a very charming place," added 
 O'Dare, who saw that Graham didn't relish the prospect 
 at all. "Your father will be consulted, and whatever 
 may be determined upon will be acted upon. But until 
 you get further orders, from head-quarters, as the agent 
 of your father, I order you, Mr Graham, to remain with 
 your sister, here " 
 
 " And I," said Captain Gale, " as an old friend of Cora's, 
 and one well versed in the history of the matter in hand, 
 advise you to obey orders." 
 
 The reader will understand, if it has not been previously 
 intimated, that Cora was not present during this confer 
 ence. She had gone on board of the Whitecap to inves 
 tigate what, to her, was all but a novelty. 
 
 Graham scratched his head : not that he was head- 
 strong, but he was headed off. Had Cora remained his 
 sweetheart, he would have been delighted at the prospect 
 of continued love-making while swinging in the vines of 
 the deep woods, sitting on the margins of autumn brooks, 
 or cosily ensconced by a country fire, and talking by the 
 light of a tallow candle. But now that she had become his 
 sister, he " wanted to go home," and to take her with 
 him; 
 
 " For there he had sweethearts 
 And here he had none." 
 
 He made another effort for liberty, which was not en 
 tirely without result. 
 
 " When I first came to Cliff Hall," said he, "it struck 
 me that my Uncle Oswald was very slightly deranged in 
 his mind. I watched him closely, and my first impression, 
 instead of being eradicated, was deepened by continual as 
 sociation with him. It is now, and has been, my deliberate 
 opinion that his mind is deranged, and that it is becoming 
 more so very gradually. He is fitful, and at times as un-
 
 OR CORA GLENCOE. 
 
 reasonably domineering and dangerous as the devil. To 
 put ray sister again in his fierce charge, shall neither be 
 done nor risked, Mr. Hector O'Dare to the contrary not 
 withstanding," and Graham bowed to the Expert, who re 
 turned his bow, smilingly. " To remain here, is to risk 
 just what I wish to avoid, and what I will take steps to 
 avoid, whenever my reason urges me to do so." 
 
 " Your views with reference to your uncle's mind are 
 not without foundation," said Captain Gale. "They are, 
 to review his life and acts, almost an inevitable and se 
 quential conclusion, and would make palliating plea in be 
 half of his heart, governed as it may be by a disordered 
 head. But I can suggest nothing better at present than 
 for you to remain here with Cora. What say you, Mr. 
 O'Dare ?" 
 
 " I still adhere to my first expression that it is best for 
 Mr. Graham" (Graham did not like to be so addressed or 
 referred to, and O'Dare had been malicious enough to dis 
 cover it ; but he thought the young man had just a trifle too 
 much style, and he was after dampening the starch in him 
 a bit) "that it is best for Mr. Graham," repeated O'Dare, 
 a little emphatically, "to remain here with his sister, until 
 you and I can run up to Philadelphia, see Mr. Graham's 
 father, give him our information and views, let him decide, 
 then act. It will take but a few days, and there is no 
 danger of your being molested in this serene and lovely 
 spot. But, if you are unearthed by your uncle, take your 
 sister out of Maryland and not into Pennsylvania, but let 
 me see here, to this address," and O'Dare wrote on a card, 
 with a pencil, the address of Mrs. Linda Boyd, in the city 
 of New York, and commended Graham to the acquaintance 
 and friendship of Cassel Rapid, in whom, to use his own 
 words, he had more confidence than in any other young 
 blood that ever wore high-heeled boots. " This matter of 
 States, and your locality, may make some difference in the 
 end. I don't assert that it will, but I am like you, tak 
 ing all advantages and no risks. Therefore let the respon 
 sibility of your flight from Cliff Hall continue to rest upon 
 you alone, or upon you and your sister. Do not mix your 
 father up in it, for he will doubtless be a prime party to a 
 lawsuit. Don't mix up Captain Gale in it, for he will
 
 226 TEKEL, 
 
 doubtless be a prime witness in a lawsuit. If you go 
 from here to your father's house in Philadelphia, on the 
 Whitecap with Captain Gale, you will be doing both of 
 these prohibited things at a single effort. Now, sir, that's 
 official, and though I am paid for it, it is none the less 
 friendly. It's good advice too, and if you have half the 
 sense which your young sister has, you'll take it." 
 
 " You are full candid," said Graham, laughing, " and 
 business-like also. I suppose I shall have to submit." 
 
 " Do not allow yourself to feel as though you had sub 
 mitted, but simply as if you had adopted," said O'Dare, 
 blandly. 
 
 " See how he garlands the points of his bayonets !" ex 
 claimed Graham, turning good-humoredly to Captain Gale. 
 " O'Dare, you would make a successful tyrant inducing 
 your vassals to shout ' adoption ' instead of murmuring 
 'submission.'" 
 
 " I'd take some of the overdone out of you," replied 
 O'Dare, laughing. " But make out your bill of wants, and 
 I will file it with your father. He can send the articles 
 down by the Whitecap that is, if the weather will per 
 mit the vessel to put in here, and if it don't, you can rough 
 it awhile it won't hurt you." 
 
 " I wouldn't mind roughing it if I had company," said 
 the young man, lugubriously. 
 
 " What better company do you want than your sister, 
 I'd like to know ! She has not expended a breath upon 
 complaint, and you great strip of a fellow must needs 
 whine around because you have to live a few days in the 
 garden of Eden, as our first parents did !" 
 
 " O'Dare," said Graham, " you have no more sympathy 
 than an oyster. What you can do best is to open your 
 mouth, for you have neither heart nor conscience. But 
 come ; we will board the Whitecap, get a sheet of paper, 
 and arrange the list of those possible things which this 
 garden of Eden sadly lacks. I do not think that I could 
 find even the forbidden tree hereabouts." 
 
 " If you could, you would need no tempting Eve to in 
 duce you to partake of the fruit thereof." 
 
 On board the Whitecap, Graham sat down and penciled 
 a column of wants which occupied an entire page of letter-
 
 OR CORA GLENCOE. 227 
 
 paper. O'Dare took it and looked over it, and then opened 
 upon Graham with a laugh which no one would have im 
 agined was in him. 
 
 "What's the matter now ?" asked Graham. " Are my 
 very wants to be the subject of your ridicule and horse- 
 head mirth ?" 
 
 " What will your sister and her maid do for clothes, I 
 wonder, while you are smoking up these boxes of cigars, 
 and reading these unillustrative novels ?" asked the de 
 tective. " Here, take this sheet to Miss Cora Glencoe, 
 and let her specify her wants. You have only brains for 
 yourself." 
 
 Graham, somewhat crestfallen, went in search of Cora. 
 When he returned, O'Dare took the sheet, on which the 
 young girl had penciled her simple wants, and looked 
 over it. 
 
 " Your sister Cora is worth two of you," said O'Dare, 
 with provoking sincerity. 
 
 " That is doubtless true ; but I am as good as any other 
 man," replied Graham, a little nettled at the detective's 
 persistent strictures. 
 
 " Miss L., on Chestnut Street, didn't think so, one night, 
 when you would kiss her, and she wouldn't." 
 
 " What the devil do you know about that ?" demanded 
 Graham, with a look of great surprise and a conscious 
 blush of detection. 
 
 " I know every door-step lip-sucker and rich-daddy 
 swell between the Atlantic and the Alleghanies, but I 
 know of only one who can kiss Miss L., and you are not 
 that festive fellow by a mile or more," and O'Dare stared 
 into Graham's face with all the encroaching impudence of 
 a grown-up gamin. 
 
 " Captain Gale," pleaded Graham, " sail away with this 
 man he knows too much ; and be careful to keep him in 
 the waist of your vessel, for if you ever let him get to 
 the one side or the other, the weight of his knowledge 
 will capsize your craft. He carries a heavy head, I can 
 tell you." 
 
 "Well, Cora," observed Graham, as the Whitecap dis 
 appeared around the northern coast, " what shall we do to
 
 228 
 
 kill old Tempus ? I feel as if I was treed by an overflow, 
 or blocked by a snow-storm." 
 
 " In such an event we should have to wait for the flood 
 to assuage or the snow to melt; and I do not know what 
 better we can do now than to wait patiently, or impa 
 tiently, if you please," replied Cora, with a smile of forti 
 tude. 
 
 It was some time before Graham could thoroughly undo 
 his heart of lover and set it up properly as that of an af 
 fectionate brother. He would toy with Cora's abundant 
 brown hair, and kiss her, now that she suffered or wel 
 comed it, oftener than he ever kissed his two young sisters 
 at home. Several times he told Cora that he wished that 
 his or her name had been anything else but Huron. He 
 talked to her of her parents, and assured her that she 
 would love them, and of her two sisters, Augusta and 
 Gertrude, Gussie and Gertie, who were both younger 
 than Cora, and very pretty, but not, said Graham, "so 
 lovely as you." Gussie had her beaus, and wore long 
 dresses; but Gertie was in short dresses, was a school- 
 miss, and although she could get beaus, her mother would 
 not let her have any, which was very cruel on little Ger 
 tie, and so Graham would talk, by the hour. 
 
 The Whitecap appeared to be in no haste to return, 
 and the days were becoming very tedious and anxious, 
 not only to Graham but to Cora also ; for they had no 
 books to read, and nothing in the world to do ; and their 
 " hotel," though a kind and willing one, was not comfort 
 able, and could not be made so with the means at hand. 
 
 It was a blustery, uneven day, when the sea was chop 
 ping, and the air was raw, that the Whitecap again 
 appeared in front of No-port, but not daring to lay along 
 side of the rock-built pier. Graham and Cora, as they 
 looked upon the vessel where it stood, apparently still, 
 about three hundred yards from shore, were extremely 
 anxious to communicate with it, but to do so seemed to 
 them impossible. As they watched it intently, they saw 
 a small boat lowered from the davits, and come toward 
 shore, like a shell tossed at will- by the irregular and 
 dangerous waves. They ran down to the verge of the 
 sea.
 
 OR CORA'GLENCOE. 229 
 
 " Stand by there," shouted Captain Gale, " and catch 
 the tow-line when I heave it to you." 
 
 Graham stood ready to assist the landing. As Cora 
 looked upon the dancing, rearing, and dipping boat, her 
 bosom panted with apprehension, and she wondered how 
 so frail a thing could live among those domineering, treach 
 erous, and collapsing waters. But there was an iron 
 hand and fearless eye at the helm, and skillful arms at 
 the oars. 
 
 " Look out for the lead," said Captain Gale ; " don't let 
 it strike you ;" and, with one hand at the helm, he threw 
 the end-loaded hawser ashore. Graham caught the rope 
 and braced himself while the mariners actively made the 
 boat secure, and in a few minutes discharged the cargo. 
 Captain Gale came ashore, shook hands, delivered a pack 
 age of letters, and said, 
 
 " I have no time now to answer questions. Your friends 
 are all well. These letters will advise you. I wouldn't 
 have stopped here for a thousand dollars. The sea is 
 getting ugly, and ten minutes lost time may send me 
 and the Whitecap to Davy Jones's locker. Cora, use 
 your own head, and don't be persuaded by your brother's 
 impatience. Good-by !" And Captain Gale, after a peril 
 ous short passage, again reached the Whitecap, and 
 trimmed his sails for a speedy run to the safe anchorage at 
 Gale Island. 
 
 Graham divined, from the trunks, boxes, etc. which 
 were put ashore, that he was doomed to stagnate yet 
 longer in this next to nothing of a place. 
 
 In the package of letters Cora found four one from 
 each member of the Huron family in Philadelphia ad 
 dressed to herself; the contents of which we leave the 
 reader to imagine. 
 
 A letter from Neville Huron to Graham informed the 
 latter of a decision arrived at between Captain Gale, 
 O'Dare, and the writer, that Graham should remain with 
 Cora where he was, until the father could go down to 
 Creswood and have an interview with his brother Oswald, 
 with the view of making an effort to adjust the claim to 
 Cora Glencoe in an amicable, quiet, and brotherly manner. 
 If he failed, he would then advise Cora and Graham what 
 
 20
 
 230 TEKEL< 
 
 to do. If he succeeded, Cora would be brought imme 
 diately home to Philadelphia. 
 
 "His mission will be a failure," said Cora. 
 
 " I have no doubt of it in the world," replied Graham. 
 
 As Graham unpacked a number of boxes of cigars, a 
 lot of novels, and a variety of other tranquilizers, he was 
 encouraged to hope that he might possibly live through 
 it all. 
 
 Cora was stirred with new emotions and affections, as 
 she read the yearning letters of her parents, and the 
 warm-hearted words of her young sisters. She was im 
 patient to speed to them, but from what she had gathered 
 of her peculiar situation, she could not but fear that there 
 was a high wall to be overgone before she should receive 
 the heritage of love and peace which awaited her on the 
 other side. 
 
 CHAPTER XXIV. 
 
 NEVILLE HURON arrived at Cliff Hall. His brother 
 Oswald met him calmly, but somewhat sternly, saying, 
 
 " Neville, I divine what brings you, a stranger, into my 
 country. You may as well take your stirrup-cup, and set 
 out on your return-journey." 
 
 " Not until I have had a talk with you, Oswald," an 
 swered the brother, mildly. 
 
 " Yery well : say your say. I will answer it all with a 
 single word, of two letters." 
 
 " I came down to see you about Cora." 
 
 " True enough; but what have you to do with Cora, my 
 own child ?" 
 
 " Oswald, she is not your child, but mine." 
 
 "I presume you can prove what you say," replied 
 Oswald Huron, sarcastically. 
 
 " I have both seen and heard the proof, and I am thor 
 oughly convinced," answered the brother. 
 
 " I have both seen and heard the proof, and I am thor 
 oughly not convinced, "rejoined Oswald Huron, who, upon 
 this occasion, maintained an extraordinary calmness. " Ne-
 
 OR CORA OLENCOE 231 
 
 ville, you may strive in vain to change my purpose, which is 
 firm and firmly rooted, and based upon the knowledge and 
 conviction that there is, and for years has been, a-systematic 
 and vindictive conspiracy to rob me of my inestimable little 
 girl, my only child. Do you think," said he, in a deep, 
 thrilling voice, which told of the electric power and pent- 
 up fury which slumbered beneath his calm exterior, " that 
 I will submit to be plundered of my child ? of the only 
 sunbeam in all the passage of my lonely life? of the only 
 thing I love ? of the helm which guides me ? of the stan 
 chion which sustains me from overthrow? of the star 
 which woos me from hell ? NEVER, sir, will I counte 
 nance your claim, or countenance you as a brother, so long 
 as you make such a claim ! I bid you defiance, and all 
 your backers. I have anticipated everything, and am pre 
 pared to meet you and your conspirators. Bring this mat 
 ter, if you please, into a court of judicature. I will meet 
 you there. And all who are engaged in it I will prose 
 cute and hunt to the uttermost, for this piracy upon me. 
 Now, sir, abandon your wild demand and wilder convic 
 tions, or leave my premises, for I will not brook the com 
 pany of bandit or brother who would rob me of my child." 
 
 Nothing which Neville Huron could urge had the least 
 softening influence upon his brother Oswald, and the Phila- 
 delphian left Cliff Hall, conscious that Greek would be met 
 by Greek in the coming strange and unhappy contest for a 
 daughter. 
 
 It was evident to the elder Huron, after his interview 
 with his brother Oswald, that should he ever recover his 
 daughter it must necessarily be done by legal process; for 
 there was left him but the alternative of appealing from 
 the personal fiat of his brother to the master voice of Pub 
 lic Justice. And in those days Justice did actually exist, 
 and had a voice, and was sufficiently well bred to speak 
 when spoken to. Neville Huron lost no time in address 
 ing himself to it. 
 
 It is not our purpose to furnish the minutes or follow 
 the forms of a trial between meum et tuum in a Maryland 
 court ; for we are free to confess that we could not draw 
 up even a precis of the legal proceedings involving and 
 evolving Cora Glencoe's destiny, so accurate and techni-
 
 232 TEKEL, 
 
 cally true to the then current usage as to withstand the 
 critical glances of the gentlemen at the bar. 
 
 The contemplated struggle for the parentage and pos 
 session of a child was probably without precedent in all 
 Maryland, certainly so in the Creswood district ; and, in 
 those strict and lawlike times, it was with no little hesita 
 tion and consultation that the jurisdiction was agreed upon, 
 and that the cause was determined to be tried before the 
 district court within whose commission was included the 
 neighborhood of Creswood. It was also determined that 
 the head upon the bench, and not a jury, should be the 
 umpire. 
 
 Although the whereabouts of the daughter, for the pos 
 session of whom the suit was about to be instituted, was, 
 to one side of the controversy, and apparently to both, as 
 uncertain as became that of the waggish ass which kicked 
 up its heels and ran away while two claimants were dispu 
 ting and fighting for its ownership, all such minor difficul 
 ties were eventually reconciled, by pliancy, emergency, and 
 agreement, to a regular legal process ; the personal presence 
 of Cora being deemed not necessary to the integrity and 
 symmetry of the suit. 
 
 The session of the court would be held in the county 
 town, not many miles from Creswood. 
 
 Oswald Huron went up to Baltimore, and engaged the 
 wisest men of the city. 
 
 Neville Huron, against the remonstrances of O'Dare, ob 
 tained his counsel from Philadelphia. "Your brother will 
 have the advantage of you," had said O'Dare, "for the Bal 
 timore lawyers will be fighting on their own dung-hill, and 
 are of course more familiar with the laws, forms, usages, 
 etc. of Maryland than are the Philadelphians ; and in the 
 country courts there is always a prejudice against im 
 ported lawyers ; or if, in the beginning, there is not, the 
 home lawyei-s will see to it that, in the end, there will be." 
 Notwithstanding this shrewd advice, Neville Huron, in 
 some things obstinate, in others weak, retained his chosen 
 counsel without addition or subtraction. 
 
 The legal gentlemen engaged to conduct the Huron 
 war came down to Creswood in advance of the session of 
 the court, and almost bedeviled the people out of their
 
 OR CORA GLENCOE. 233 
 
 wits by the pertinacity with which they elicited, fished up, 
 and minutely gathered the history of Creswood and of 
 every person whose residence there was of fifteen or more 
 years' duration. 
 
 Some of the old women were looking for the millennium 
 to succeed this avalanche of curiosity and investigation. 
 They were confident that these black-clad investigators 
 were searching for and gathering up data by which to 
 separate the tares from the true seeds, and the manner in 
 which not a few good old souls avoided committing them 
 selves was irresistibly laughable. 
 
 The children, on the other hand, were of the opinion that 
 Christmas was at hand before its time, which impression 
 was due to the ready dimes which the new-comers threw 
 among them from day to day. 
 
 There never was such a to-do in Creswood before. You 
 could not hear an undisputed assertion about anything 
 whatever, but you could hear a disputed assertion about 
 almost everything. Old men looked at the skies and bab 
 bled of fearful things. Old women looked down into wells 
 and droned out tales in the chimney-corners. The ghost of 
 Jonas Aiken had been seen working by moonlight at the 
 crevasse in the bluff. And the whole neighborhood was on 
 the qui vive for Terrors. All this, because of a few black- 
 clad, distinguished-looking personages, who were nosing 
 about Creswood, going in and out at Cliff Hall, visiting 
 Gale Island, interviewing the elders of the people, taking 
 notes, citing witnesses, et cetera. About one-half of the 
 adults of Creswood were summoned as witnesses, direct and 
 indirect. Although old Mr. Grain was painfully desirous of 
 gathering his late crops, the trial was at hand, and he must 
 go to court. Grandmother Feathers had some fall broods of 
 chickens which required her constant attention, but she too 
 must go to court. Old Aunt Hives wanted to prepare her 
 bees for the cold weather, but she also must go to court. 
 And so it was, that Creswood issued out in the morning 
 and swarmed in at night, with ceaseless gabble and won 
 derful speculation. 
 
 Meantime, Graham Huron and Cora were captured by 
 officers of the law, and brought back to Creswood. Gra- 
 
 20*
 
 234 TEKEL, 
 
 ham was arrested as a horse-thief, and bonded to appear 
 before a criminal court. Cora was arrested and detained 
 as a stray and fugitive minor, but, much to the relief of 
 her friends, Oswald Huron sent her to Mr. Hope's, to re 
 main there, subject to his demand, the minister pledging 
 himself to be responsible for her. 
 
 Oswald Huron's native fury seemed to have been trans 
 formed into cunning and prudence. He did nothing to pre 
 judice his cause, and many things to strengthen it. The 
 ability and calmness exhibited by him excited the wonder 
 and admiration of numbers who had aforetime feared or 
 condemned him. For years he had been so little seen by 
 the people of Creswood that they had, in their imagina 
 tions, invested him with a mystery, a habit, and an ap 
 pearance not his own. Tall, dark, well dressed, dignified, 
 alert, and even bland on this occasion, the deep purpose 
 which brought him out seemed to have given a royal 
 power to his magical eye, symmetry to his mind, and rea 
 son, bordering upon forbearance, to his actions. As an 
 oak, firmly rooted in the soil, he appeared to think himself 
 established in his right, proof against overthrow, and mon 
 arch of the field. He appeared confidently to feel that he 
 could reach out his hand and crush, as with an iron grasp, 
 all who might dare to be inimical to the legitimate order 
 of his house. He seemed actuated and sustained by mo 
 tives honorable, sincere, and deeper than his ordinary sea 
 of life. Men who had felt the weight of his cane about 
 their shoulders, came around him and even courted his re 
 cognition now, licking the hand that smote them at will, 
 as hounds fawning at the feet of a hard but apparently 
 relenting master. To all who did not stand entirely aloof 
 from him, Oswald Huron acted most graciously and grace 
 fully, and his action was the more charming and friend- 
 winning because of its being so unexpected, such an agree 
 able surprise, and so contradictory of all his former ways 
 and repute. His bearing went -far to confute the many 
 tales which were told of his ungovernable temper, his 
 wrathful violence, and his haughty, ruthless enmity and vin- 
 dictiveness ; for what would be more apt to rouse his bit 
 ter fury and pour it out red hot than a persistent effort by 
 his personal enemies to pillage his house of its lovely child
 
 OR CORA GLENCOE. 235 
 
 and only light, the only light whose ray seemed ever to 
 have reached his own dark soul? 
 
 Several days were devoted to the examination of a 
 cloud of witnesses, for and against ; establishing character 
 here, and destroying it there ; and more neighborhood and 
 family secrets, scandal, odds, ends, and intervals of speech, 
 and misgathered testimony were soon upon the wing, than 
 it was possible for the atmosphere to sustain or the ear 
 to register. 
 
 Captain Gale came home to the island each night, look 
 ing as if some heated action had spared him for a moment, 
 or as if the angry seas had pursued and battled with him 
 to his very door. He felt that he, chiefly, was responsible 
 for all this turmoil, and would be forever accountable to 
 Cora, her friends, his own strict and sleepless conscience, 
 and to a yet more sleepless Heaven, should the struggle 
 in which he was now engaged result in the calamity of 
 defeat. 
 
 " Carroll," said Captain Gale, coming home one night 
 more anxious than ever, "you saw how things went this 
 morning while you were there. Get, from your library, " 
 the books which are listed on this slip of paper, and bring 
 them to court with you to-morrow. Our lawyers need 
 them ; for every three minutes there is a controversy about 
 what is admissible testimony and what is not. They also 
 need some one to point them to precedents, references, and 
 such like, and keep them clear on numberless little points 
 in the Maryland practice, with which they are not fa 
 miliar. You must go inside of the bar to-morrow, and 
 sit with them." 
 
 " How is it going, uncle ?" asked Carroll. 
 
 " Like the sea when the wind suddenly shifts against 
 the waves and chops them to pieces; rough enough. 
 Oswald Huron has impeached all the testimony, so far, 
 and has raked up and perverted the truth of everything 
 that has transpired in Creswood for twenty-five years, 
 to bear him out. If that man had a good heart in his 
 breast, I do not know of his equal anywhere. His 
 brother is no match for him, and is greatly dispirited. I 
 believe he even begins to doubt that Cora is his child." 
 
 " Have you been examined yet ?" asked Carroll.
 
 236 TEKEL, 
 
 "No. They are reserving me, they say, for a center 
 shot ; but how I am to reach the center for them is clearer 
 to them than it is to me, for my testimony is necessarily 
 indirect. But I have many things to say which I trust 
 will put a different color on the case. If I am discredited, 
 however, I fear the struggle is hopeless, unless Maria 
 Guthrie can be found and produced in court; but the 
 finding of her, in time for good, is an impossibility. No 
 body knows where she is, or whether she is dead or alive. 
 Oswald Huron has nullified her affidavit, which was but 
 bastard testimony at best, and has turned it to his own 
 advantage. He accepted it as a genuine document, but 
 .attacked and ridiculed it as a contrivance of your father, 
 in whose handwriting it is, and succeeded in making a 
 very unfavorable impression in regard to your father's 
 memory." 
 
 Carroll sprang up. He was very fiery, even to un 
 due haste. With a flashing eye, he said, 
 
 " It then becomes my first duty, if Maria Guthrie is in 
 the world, to seek her out ; and whether I find her soon or 
 late, to purge from my father's memory the venom of this 
 Oswald Huron. If I cannot do that, I'll stop his breath 
 by letting his blood." 
 
 " Sit down, Carroll," said Captain Gale. " This is not 
 the time for such action. You will need both money and 
 the assistance of a man like Hector O'Dare, if you ever 
 prosecute a search for Maria Guthrie." 
 
 " Uncle," said Carroll, " I have the money. You know 
 I've not been idle since I could work. I've done every 
 thing that a young lawyer can do. I've been a two-bit 
 attorney, a ten-cent counselor, have drawn up bushels of 
 documents for older men in the profession, kept the minor 
 affairs of Creswood straight, and taken every job offered, 
 though the fee amounted to no more than five cents. I 
 wish to redeem myself, uncle, from a dear and affectionate 
 bondage, and lighten the burden which you so nobly took 
 upon yourself." 
 
 " Carroll," said Captain Gale, " you have stuff in you, 
 and I'm glad of it." He then added, " You have been no 
 burden to me, boy;" and turning away, he went out of 
 the room and into where his wife was.
 
 OR CORA GLENCOE. 237 
 
 Carroll May was interested in the Huron war in more 
 ways than one. If Cora Glencoe was Neville Huron's 
 offspring, Carroll was not so hopelessly separated from 
 her, as he had always conceived himself to be, by a red 
 and impassable stream his father's spilt blood. 
 
 He had, before the revelation of her parentage, mastered, 
 not his preference, but that love and passion which school 
 room views and subsequent casual encounters had bred 
 within him, and he now had his affections well in hand, 
 to curb or give them rein as fortune might invite. 
 
 Whatever would be the after-difficulties which he should 
 have to encounter, he would fain sweep the bloody and 
 absolute barrier from between himself and Cora, that it 
 might be possible for him to pass over to the other side. 
 All this, and much more, without his having spoken to her 
 a dozen times in his life. 
 
 On the following day, which was to be principally de 
 voted to the examination and cross-examination of Captain 
 Gale, Carroll appeared inside the bar with the weighty 
 legal heads from Philadelphia, who found the young law 
 yer of great service in minutiae, and by no means inferior 
 to the importance of the case. 
 
 If the court-house had been packed full before, it was 
 to-day packed and jammed, for it had gone abroad that 
 Captain Gale was to take the witness-stand, and intensely 
 interesting developments were anticipated. The curious 
 and eager were not destined to disappointment, for before 
 Captain Gale was told to stand aside, he gave a complete 
 thirty years' view of Creswood. 
 
 When Oswald Huron saw Captain Gale upon the wit 
 ness-stand, and Carroll May "busying himself" inside 
 the bar, the iron bands with which he had harnessed him 
 self down, came near to bursting. With a tremendous 
 and persistent effort, however, he maintained his calmness, 
 and, as before, assiduously supplied his lawyers with 
 searching, skillful, and pertinent questions. 
 
 Over the head of Captain Gale the battle raged to the 
 culminating degree of intensity and heat. Up to the time 
 at which he was introduced, as a witness, Oswald Huron, 
 to all popular appearance, had decidedly the advantage of 
 his brother. But the well-known and well-proven sturdy
 
 238 TEKEL, 
 
 integrity of Captain Gale, his unimpeachable veracity, his 
 long recognized respect for law, order, and legitimacy, 
 and the vast amount of tributary light which he threw 
 upon the subject of dispute, corrected the unbalanced 
 scales of Justice, and left them suspended in the air, 
 trembling, if at all, in favor of Neville Huron. After a 
 most exciting day, closing with a most exquisite cross-ex 
 amination of Captain Gale, court was adjourned until the 
 next morning, when the lawyers on either side would enter 
 upon their brain-fuddling arguments and summing-up. 
 
 But during the night which was to intervene, there was 
 some fine work done by all hands, and the suit was virtu 
 ally transferred from the court-room to a room in the vil 
 lage tavern, in which were gathered Oswald Huron with 
 his counsel, and Neville Huron with his counsel, with the 
 latter of whom also sat Captain Gale and Carroll May. 
 
 The judge before whom the trial had been progressing, 
 and who was to decide the case, though not altogether 
 inferior to his position, yet felt himself rather small in 
 comparison with the trained and talented lawyers from 
 Baltimore and Philadelphia. He therefore experienced a 
 desire to get the benefit of other people's wisdom and 
 opinions before he should risk his own ; and for this 
 reason he solicited a private interview with Captain Gale, 
 whom he regarded as a clear-headed, reticent, reliable 
 man, and as one who appeared to know more about the 
 ease in hand than was known by any other person with 
 whom he could safely confer. The judge, furthermore, 
 desired to do right, intrinsically as well as legally, and he 
 thought that by a private talk with Captain Gale he 
 might be able to enlighten himself upon points which were 
 yet obscure, and would otherwise remain so, on account 
 of the inadmissibility of certain mooted testimony which 
 alone could make them clear. We will venture the asser 
 tion that very few protracted and exciting trials have ever 
 been prosecuted to a close, without creating a desire in 
 the bosom of a conscientious court to call a witness aside 
 and ask, 
 
 " By-the-way, Mr. Brown, what was it you were going 
 to tell about, when, under the customary rulings, I was 
 compelled to stop you?"
 
 OR CORA QLENCOE. 
 
 Now whether the judge did right or wrong in consult 
 ing -privately with Captain Gale, we put it down in ex 
 tenuation, if need be, that he undoubtedly meant to do 
 right; and Captain Gale was one of the few men who, 
 however much he might be interested in the result of a 
 trial, would not endeavor to seduce the judge to substi 
 tute sympathy for law. But he would and did, in this 
 case, endeavor to ascertain the probable view which the 
 judge entertained in respect to Cora's lineage, and the 
 probable decision which he would render; the evidence 
 being before him in extenso, and having been thoroughly 
 sifted and winnowed by cross-examinations. Although 
 the judge was careful not to commit himself, Captain Gale 
 was conscious of having obtained the cue for future action. 
 The captain divined about as follows : 
 
 That the judge, as a private citizen, was not in doubt 
 as to Cora's lineage ; but that the same judge, in whose 
 keeping was the conscience of the Law, was in doubt. 
 That a continuance would be granted on the motion of 
 either party to the suit, but preferably on the motion of 
 Neville Huron's counsel, upon the ground that Maria 
 Guthrie an important, even a deciding witness was not 
 at hand, but might be produced at a future session of the 
 court. That, if forced to a decision now, the testimony 
 being incomplete, and, in many things, superficially con 
 flicting, the court would be compelled to run in the old 
 grooves in respect to law and evidence, and the decree 
 would necessarily be in favor of Oswald Huron. 
 
 Captain Gale left the presence of the judge, with a 
 scheme in his bead, the salient points of which he unveiled 
 to Carroll May, who caught at them instantly, and not 
 without reason or forecast. The scheme of the firm and 
 fertile captain which led to the assemblage of the two 
 Huron wings in the tavern-room may better than other 
 wise be conceived from the following short dialogue : 
 
 " Carroll," said Captain Gale, " there are two things 
 to be done. One of them is feasible and the other 
 may be." 
 
 " What are they, uncle ?" 
 
 " First the case must be continued. Next we must, 
 in advance of a continuance, endeavor to effect a compro-
 
 240 TEKEL, 
 
 mise by which Cora will be rescued from the immediate 
 control of Oswald Huron, and have an agreed guardian to 
 take charge of her." 
 
 " But is there a man alive," asked Carroll, " with whom, 
 or under whose guardianship, Oswald Huron could be 
 brought to trust Cora ?" 
 
 'There is one and a good one." 
 
 ' Who ?" 
 
 'Mr. Hope." 
 
 ' True. I had not thought of him." 
 
 'And now for the terms which will recommend the 
 compromise which I intend shall be proposed," said Cap 
 tain Gale. " Cora, you are aware I presume, has left the 
 Creswood School, and is devoting a year to history, or 
 was, prior to this turmoil, and is preparing herself prob 
 ably for some classic institution to which it is Oswald 
 Huron's intention to consign her. Her preparatory year 
 is almost gone. What I advise to be proposed is this : 
 the Huron brothers shall contract with each other that, 
 following a continuance of this suit, Mr. Hope shall be 
 chosen to take charge of Cora, act as her guardian, and 
 send her, say to New York, where she can pursue her 
 studies, and remain for a year at the least, during which 
 time Maria Guthrie may be found ; in which latter event 
 I have reason to know that we shall win. If this thing 
 is properly managed, Oswald Huron can be brought to 
 terms, for the terms will in no essential sense change his 
 premeditated course with Cora. As likely as not he may 
 consider it a triumph, for he was as restless as a worm in 
 hot ashes under my testimony to-day, and I saw well 
 enough that his previous exulting confidence effectually 
 failed him. Moreover, such an arrangement will involve 
 an important admission on his part, the admission that 
 his right is doubtful. But it will not do for either you 
 or me to make this proposition. That would steel him 
 against it at once. He must be led up to it by one of 
 Neville Huron's counsel, we in the mean time seeming 
 rather to object than to sanction." 
 
 " Give it in charge of that sharp-nosed attorney. He 
 will manage it, if it can be done at all," said Carroll. 
 
 "I agree with you," said Captain Gale.
 
 OR CORA GLENCOE. 241 
 
 " This has been a hard fight, uncle." 
 
 " Worse than cold pitch and a storm at sea," was Cap 
 tain Gale's reply. 
 
 So it was, in pursuance of Captain Gale's interview with 
 the judge, that the Huron brothers, each attended by his 
 staff of lawyers, met in conference. 
 
 But the cunning scheme of the captain of the Whitecap 
 would have proved abortive had it not been for one cir 
 cumstance. His private interview with the judge of the 
 court was already within the knowledge of the watchful 
 lawyers engaged by Oswald Huron, who were not, as they 
 boasted among themselves, to be tricked by either bribery 
 or collusion, without knowing when, where, and by whom 
 it was done. They communicated to Oswald Huron their 
 suspicions relative to this interview, and put him on his 
 guard, and the very fact that Captain Gale and Carroll, in 
 the subsequent conference, objected to the compromise 
 which Neville Huron's sharp-nosed lawyer skillfully ma 
 neuvered before the assemblage, prompted Oswald Huron 
 to accept the proposals, which, by-the-way, came more in 
 the shape of suggestions than propositions, and induced 
 him to feel that he had hedged his enemies. 
 
 When the court resumed its session in the morning, the 
 cause of Huron vs. Huron was continued, on the motion 
 of Neville Huron, and upon the ground already indicated 
 the absence of an important witness, Maria Guthrie. 
 
 This disposition of the cause left the Huron affairs, le 
 gally, in statu quo ante bellum; for it was not within the 
 province of the court to bind either party to good faith 
 and performance in the equitable arrangement resulting 
 from the Huron conference in the tavern-room. 
 
 Oswald Huron might even yet forfeit his pledged word, 
 ignore the contract, and resume control of Cora ; for there 
 was nothing to prevent him but his own conscience and 
 sense of honor no lawful, physical force or agency by 
 which he could be restrained from such a course. Not 
 withstanding this, and that he was accustomed to brook 
 no opposition, but to have his way whether or no, there 
 was one thing on earth which this strange man loved, ad 
 mired, respected, yielded to, and even feared the stanch 
 
 21
 
 242 - TEKEL, 
 
 little girl whom he regarded as his daughter. He was not 
 insensible of the fact that he was possessed of a devil, and, 
 to do him justice, he strove against it, but, often, as ineffect 
 ually as he, who, night and day, was in the mountain and 
 in the tombs, crying and cutting himself with stones, and 
 whom no man could bind. There were times when Os 
 wald Huron, knowingly, but from an irresistible, reckless 
 perversity that was in him, had aggressed upon Cora in 
 ethical matters which she held dear to her integrity, and 
 she had stood out against him like a steel shaft against a 
 pelting and pitiless storm. At such times he had been 
 compelled to yield or kill her where she stood. When she 
 was brought back to Cliff Hall from her elopement, she 
 read him the law of right and wrong, and promised him 
 firmly that unless he abided by it, nothing but iron chains 
 would ever keep her with him. He saw from the despera 
 tion in her eyes that another time had come in which he 
 must yield, or she would wrest her fate and fortunes from 
 his keeping, and leave him forever. For Cora, whom he 
 loved with a fathomless though insane affection, to turn 
 her back upon him and seek some other refuge, would, he 
 thoroughly felt, pluck the last glimmering light from his 
 soul, and crown his dark life with a wreath of midnight 
 blackest flowers. He knew that the hunted girl was awake 
 to her new-born situation, and that if he did not abide by 
 her roused dictation, and by the agreement which had just 
 been made between himself and her champions, that she 
 would hardly abide with him. Under these influences he 
 was coerced- and forewarned to act in. good faith. 
 
 Cora, the child of compromise, consequently remained 
 with Mr. Hope until, for certain considerations which will 
 appear, he determined to send her to the city of New 
 York, where she might prosecute her studies. 
 
 When Captain Gale unveiled to Carroll May his scheme 
 in regard to Cora, among the several features of it the in 
 cidental suggestion of the captain that Cora might be 
 sent to New York, was the one which to Carroll was the 
 most attractive ; for Carroll himself was going to that 
 city to remain probably for a year, possibly for always. 
 His contemplated change of base would be in pursuance 
 of Captain Gale's paternal advice. The captain, to whom
 
 OR CORA GLENCOE. 243 
 
 Creswood was a sweet spot but by no means the known 
 world, once upon a time said to his young protege, 
 
 " Carroll, Creswood is a happy, tranquil place for those 
 who are established, and for others who have no ambition; 
 but it is not a place for a man to make his way. You may 
 successfully vegetate here, but that will hardly satisfy you. 
 If you wish to escape the slow growth of a shaded sap 
 ling, you must go out into the world and foster yourself. 
 This is but the outer edge of the universe. Go to the 
 center, son, and you may do something. You' will either 
 succeed or fail, and it is better to succeed, and, as well to 
 fail, at the center, as anywhere else." 
 
 " What do you call the center, uncle ?" 
 
 " Some large town or city, where there is business to be 
 done by those who are willing to do it." 
 
 " New York is the largest, and busiest," said Carroll. 
 " I will strike boldly, and go there." 
 
 " Very well. And if you are starved out, why, then, you 
 can come back to Creswood. I will send Johnny with 
 you, that he may learn something besides 'ma' and 'pa,' 
 and complete his theoretical study of civil engineering. 
 How do you like the prospect ?"' 
 
 Carroll was delighted, and lost no time in seeking out 
 Johnny and concocting with him a world of schemes. 
 
 And now that Cora was destined to the same city as 
 themselves, they numbered the fortunate fact as chief 
 among the attractions which loomed so gayly up in the 
 pathway of their future. Johnny did not care so much 
 about Cora, for he was grown to be a large, lubberly lad, 
 who would almost as soon fondle with a dog as with the 
 daughter of a duke. But Carroll, although he might 
 never see Cora in the great city, would feel a foolish sort 
 of satisfaction in knowing that she was there in the same 
 metes and bounds with himself. 
 
 Graham Huron, laughable to relate, was actually tried 
 for horse-stealing. His uncle prosecuted relentlessly, and 
 would have added to the grave charge that of abduction, 
 but for fear of Cora, and for the fact that she was not now 
 under his care. Graham got off, as it were, by the skin of 
 his teeth, for technically he had stolen the horses, and law 
 goes by technicalities. But as he proved the emergency
 
 244 TEKEL, 
 
 under which they were taken, that they were seasonably 
 returned, unharmed, and by his orders, and also established 
 a good character, the jury jocularly agreed to return him 
 "not guilty." It was a source of great amusement to 
 Graham's acquaintances in Philadelphia, his arrest and 
 trial as a horse-thief, and he was likely never to hear the 
 last of it. He was advised by no means ever to run for an 
 office, if he did not wish to be known all over the continent 
 as a horse-thief and a man of desperate character. 
 
 This assault upon Graham did Oswald Huron no good, 
 but detriment rather, as it necessarily brought before the 
 public the scene at Cliff Hall which had induced the young 
 man to take Cora and flee. Oswald Huron thereby lost 
 the prestige which he had gained by his calm brilliancy 
 during the trial for the possession of Cora Glencoe. 
 
 Had it not been for an overruling Providence, Cora's 
 future would probably have been like that of a tender 
 lamb, sent out into a world of brambles, to be torn and 
 robbed of its fleece continually. But with Mr. Hope she 
 was harbored safely, and under his guidance and instruc 
 tions might safely adventure upon an expedition into the 
 world. 
 
 CHAPTER XXV. 
 
 WHEN the smoke of battle cleared from about our young 
 heroine, there were but few people in Creswood, or in the 
 adjacent country, who had decided opinions about the case, 
 or distinct ideas of its merits or demerits. It was evident 
 to all, that Captain Gale had been the bulwark of Neville 
 Huron, against which Oswald Huron had charged, as 
 waves against rock. But the testimony of Captain Gale 
 was neither direct nor conclusive, and, in the nature of his 
 knowledge, could not be. The intelligent few of his ac 
 quaintance, and of those who had heard his honest voice, 
 and seen him with unshaken firmness and uninterrupted 
 consistency withstand a cross-examination which elicited 
 everything bearing upon the case of which he had known
 
 OR CORA GLENCOE. 245 
 
 or dreamed for the last twenty years, believed as he be 
 lieved, with the exception of Oswald Huron, and possibly, 
 Oswald Huron's" lawyers. The simpletons of Captain 
 Gale's acquaintance were with him in opinion and sym 
 pathy, simply because he was with himself. But there 
 were many goggle-eyed lookers-on, who knew none of the 
 parties to the controversy, whose fuddled condition was 
 downright amusing. One old countryman went away 
 saying, "that he'd be-dog-gone-his-cats if them lawyers 
 hadn't twisted his noddle, and beat up his brains so, that 
 he would have to put in a double crap the next spring to 
 git himself straightened out again. He wouldn't -git done 
 thinkin' and dreamin' 'bout it fur a year." 
 
 Now that Cora was disinherited of one father and not 
 given another, she began to regard herself as almost an 
 alien in the house of the Hurons. 
 
 Neville Huron visited Cora before he left for Philadel 
 phia. Their meeting was too affecting and too difficult of 
 description for the prosy pen. He was all that she would 
 ask as a father, and she filled his bosom as a daughter. 
 
 In the matter of visiting Cora, wherever she might be, 
 it was deemed prudent by Mr. Hope, inasmuch as Oswald 
 Huron was not likely to seek her often, and inasmuch as 
 it was not desirable that he should do so, that Neville 
 Huron and his family should be restricted to periodical 
 and not too frequent visits. Oswald Huron being simi 
 larly restricted, there would be no reason for complaint on 
 either hand. Neville agreed with Mr. Hope, and prom 
 ised not to stir up his brother Oswald by permitting his 
 family or himself too frequently to see Cora. He would 
 give his brother no excuse to depart from the agreement 
 between them. 
 
 Our heroine, in some respects, was better situated than 
 young girls generally are. She had two fathers, at all 
 events there were two wealthy men claiming her as their 
 daughter, who were each willing and anxious to supply 
 all her personal wants, furnish her with plenty of money, 
 and see that she was assiduously cared for, while in this 
 state of suspension. In addition, she was in the posses 
 sion of a kind, indulgent, venerable guardian, who would 
 give her all the freedom she craved, and encourage her 
 
 21*
 
 246 TEKKL, 
 
 not to despond, but to look aloft, and remember the ever 
 lasting covenants of her Maker. 
 
 Oswald Huron, during his manly, keen, and superb 
 struggle for Cora Glencoe, had earned a reputation for 
 defensive and offensive ability for which no person had 
 ever given him credit. But after the excitement was well 
 over, his mind collapsed ; and losing the calm power of 
 his lucid interval, he became as savage as a punched tiger, 
 and as haggard as famine. 
 
 He worried himself continually, talked wildly by day 
 and by night, and frequently woke up the servants at un 
 seasonable hours, for trivial and unreasonable services. 
 
 When, years ago, he first came to Cliff Hall and made 
 it his home, he brought white servants with him from 
 Philadelphia. They remained with him a few months, 
 until the death of his wife, after which, as by accord, 
 they all left him, with the exception of Maria Guthrie, 
 who, being attached to Mrs. Huron, had promised her on 
 her death-bed to nurse and nourish her child. Bereft of 
 his wife, and bereft of servants, Oswald Huron bought 
 slaves. They were compelled to remain with him, like or 
 dislike, and, with their issue, were with him now. Ordi 
 narily, he was not severe upon them, but when the spirit 
 moved him, and they happened to be in the way, he made 
 them walk. They soon learned pretty well to dodge him, 
 however, and taking it all in all they had an easy, lazy 
 time of it. 
 
 Not long after the Huron war had been suspended by 
 an armistice, Jim, the " body-servant" of Oswald Huron, 
 was waked from his slumbers about midnight, by a bell 
 which communicated with his master's chamber, and 
 which was so arranged that it would tinkle right into 
 Jim's ear whenever the master saw proper to pull it after 
 the servant had retired and composed himself to rest. 
 Jim sprang from his couch, went up-stairs, and with fear 
 and trembling, tapped at his master's door and was 
 .ordered in. Oswald Huron was walking the floor, like a 
 caged tiger. The negro stood, half asleep, notwithstand 
 ing the tremor of bis soul, waiting for his master's orders. 
 Oswald Huron wanted a fish, a fresh, live fish, and he 
 commanded Jim to get him one immediately. The negro
 
 OR CORA QLENCOE. 247 
 
 looked at him almost speechless with amazement. This 
 was the most unreasonable and untimely demand which 
 had ever been made upon him. 
 
 " Master," said he, with anxious humility, " dey aint no 
 fish in dees woods." 
 
 "I want a fish!" sternly and despotically said the 
 master, with a frown which made the negro quake, and 
 with a wave of the hand which notified him to leave and 
 go get it. 
 
 The negro went down, waked up the cook, and coun 
 seled with her, telling her meanwhile that he thought 
 "master had done gone clean crazy." 
 
 There was no place in all Creswood where a live fish 
 could be had at this witching time of night, and Jim, as 
 the next best thing he could think of, concluded to try and 
 fool his master with a mackerel. 
 
 When he tremblingly went back to his master's room, 
 with a doctored mackerel on a string, as if he had just 
 hooked it from a trout pool, he found Oswald Huron 
 seated, and asleep, with his head resting upon a table. 
 A pen lounged in his nerveless hand, and before him was 
 paper and an ink-bottle. Jim quietly and joyfully with 
 drew. 
 
 On the initial page of a letter sheet was written, 
 
 "CLIFF HALL. 
 " MY DARLING DAUGHTER CORA : 
 
 " Night and darkness are in the house when you are 
 away from me. My heart yearns for " 
 
 The above is all that was' penned, before sleep, fatigue, 
 or some other influence overcame him, and cut short his 
 lament. 
 
 In the morning, Oswald Huron was unusually calm, 
 and, to the infinite relief of his servant, did not allude to 
 fresh fish or any other untimely matter. He merely asked 
 if the windows had been closed, remarking that he had 
 caught cold overnight. 
 
 During the day, Mr. Hope, who was one among the 
 few visitors who ever appeared at Cliff Hall, was an 
 nounced. Oswald Huron received him with due consid-
 
 248 TEKEL, 
 
 eration and civility. After a short and quiet conversation 
 upon extraneous and indifferent subjects the old minister 
 observed, 
 
 " Mr. Huron, I thought that you might like to see Cora 
 before she leaves Creswood." 
 
 "Where do you contemplate sending her?" 
 
 "I have concluded to place her for awhile in New 
 York." 
 
 " In the city of New York ?" asked Oswald Huron, not 
 without a slight elevation of the eyebrows, indicating 
 surprise. 
 
 " Yes in the city." 
 
 " I have never heard that New York city was distin 
 guished for its educational facilities." 
 
 "Nor I," answered the minister. "But I am advised 
 of a place in the city, which will, I think, be more advan 
 tageous to Cora than if I should send her to some strict 
 seminary. I was thinking that it would be more agree 
 able to her and her relatives, should I place her in a pri 
 vate family, where she will get the benefit of select 
 society, and, with other pupils, be instructed in her studies 
 at the family mansion. This is the arrangement which I 
 have in view, but I have refrained from making it posi 
 tive and final until I shall have conferred with you upon 
 the subject." 
 
 "Mr. Hope, if you will exercise your own judgment 
 with respect to my daughter, and not suffer yourself to 
 be influenced by my enemies, I am willing that you should 
 have absolute control of her for the time. I have every 
 confidence in Cora. Wherever you may place her, she 
 will be as stanch as those cedars of Lebanon which you 
 preachers so greatly glorify." 
 
 " Will you see Coca before she goes ?" 
 
 "I would like to see her, but I am submitting to the 
 compromise." 
 
 " We must all abide by the agreement," rejoined Mr. 
 Hope ; " but it will not be best for her to see none of her 
 relatives during this suspension. I have thought it both 
 prudent and tender toward her that she should see you 
 on the one part, and your brother's family on the other, 
 about once in every three months, if you or they should
 
 OR CORA GLEACOE. 249 
 
 find it convenient to visit her that often. What do you 
 think of it ?" 
 
 " You are the arbiter, Mr. Hope. I confide in you, and 
 will make no objections at present." 
 
 "What shall I say to Cora, that you will be over to 
 see her, or not?" 
 
 "Tell her that I will come. Probably, yes, I feel 
 better to-day, and I may as well walk over with you 
 when you return." 
 
 After some further conversation Oswald Huron accom 
 panied the minister to his residence. 
 
 When Cora saw Oswald Huron she went to his bosom. 
 She could not hold back. From her infancy she had 
 lived with him and regarded him as her father. And 
 now, in his haggard calm, and the new relations which 
 had arisen between them, with thoughts of his loneliness, 
 and the firm, bold battle he had made to keejj her, she 
 was melted to compassionate affection. He pressed her 
 to his heart. His breast was convulsed, and heaved with 
 the power of suppressed emotion. He knew not how 
 much he loved Cora until this moment, and she knew not 
 until now, that with all his fiery faults and gloomy terrors, 
 he was very dear to her heart. Their interview was not 
 long, and was principally devoted to exchanging endear 
 ments. Oswald Huron experienced a softening of his 
 heart, which he had never felt before. Under the influence 
 of roused affection, he asked her to forgive him for having 
 overshadowed her young life as a deadly nightshade, and 
 to strive if she could love him in future, when he would 
 be gentle with her. He poured out a purer than his 
 wonted spirit upon her, and blessed her fervently in the 
 name of Heaven and its great God. 
 
 "Ah!" said he, "my little one, if you knew of the 
 Apollyon against whom I have to contend, the Apollyon 
 who haunts my pillow and my steps, and comes upon 
 me with his infernal power, and sits in my heart, and 
 sways my faculties, you would pity as well as dread the 
 unfortunate man who claims you as his child." 
 
 This was the first time that Oswald Huron had ever 
 alluded to himself in this manner. In his deep rich voice 
 there was a thrilling sadness, the echo, almost, of despair.
 
 250 TEKEL, 
 
 Cora's tender heart was rent by these writhing words, 
 and she clung frantically about his neck while her eyes 
 flashed fire and alternately issued tears. 
 
 The young girl had never had an intimation, other than 
 from her own observation, that a disordered mind dic 
 tated the actions and dominated the heart of Oswald 
 Huron, rendering him, oftener than not, perverse, bitter, 
 and uncontrollable. Her bosom now ached with compas 
 sion and teemed with palliation for him. 
 
 Oswald Huron took leave of Cora, after having ex 
 horted her to abide with those principles which he knew 
 to be her guide and stay. He seemed never to have 
 realized as he now did his mind being perfectly clear 
 what a firm, heroic, invincible spirit this woodland child 
 must possess, to have lived alone with him from the 
 cradle almost to womanhood, and performed her duty 
 faithfully, *vithout murmuring, but hopelessly. He could 
 not remember the time when he had had just occasion to 
 reprove her ; nor could he remember the time, if ever, 
 that he had taken her to his heart as he had done to-day. 
 He could look back and see her as of yore she stepped about 
 him, with serious, sad eyes, or wandered out with her 
 dog to seek companionship among the birds of the forest, 
 from the voices of the winds, or the splashing of the 
 waves. 
 
 He went home, cleft to the very soul. The ensuing 
 night, he was taken from the floor of his chamber, in fear 
 ful convulsions. A dangerous illness succeeded, from 
 which he slowly recovered, and during which Cora will 
 fully postponed her departure from Creswood, left her 
 guardian, and watched over her uncle until his malady 
 abated and health returned. 
 
 Prior to Mr. Hope's special visit to Oswald Huron, and 
 the return-visit of the latter, the old minister had received 
 the following letter in answer to one which he had written 
 immediately upon the commencement of his authority and 
 responsibility as Cora's chosen guardian: 
 
 "Rev. ST. JOHN HOPE. 
 
 " MY EVER-ESTEEMED FRIEND, Your letter of the 10th 
 inst. is just at hand. I am glad to be able to answer it
 
 OH CORA GLENCOE. 251 
 
 satisfactorily, I trust, and without delay. Don't mention 
 trouble to me, my dear sir, in anything which concerns or 
 will accommodate you. I have what you inquire for, 
 ready made, here in New York, without going any farther. 
 If you should search the country, you could not find an 
 accessible temporary home, so well suited to the young 
 lady you describe, as she will find in the mansion of Mrs. 
 Boyd, where I have the honor and pleasure of being domi 
 ciled. The mistress is a wealthy young widow, who, for 
 the sake of society, admits to her house, as permanent 
 guests, a few well-chosen persons, mostly of her own sex. 
 She is honest, gentle, correct, and delightful. She keeps 
 about her an unexceptionable circle, such as any young girl 
 may safely enter and abide with, and certainly find agree 
 able. There are pupils resident in the mansion, which is 
 visited daily by professional masters and mistresses of arts 
 and sciences. A superb piano, also, which Miss Huron 
 can use almost at will. To enumerate, we have, in the 
 way of company, or colony : 
 
 " First Mrs. Linda Boyd, the Queen Bee of the hive. 
 
 " Second Uncle Jesse Medley, Mrs. Boyd's uncle, an 
 old bachelor, and, if you will pardon me, a trump. He 
 stands no nonsense. He and I are great friends. 
 
 "Third Mr. Lake, a gentleman; Mrs. Lake, a lady;. 
 Miss Lake, fifteen years old ; Missie Lake, five years old ; 
 an interesting, cultivated, proper, traveled family. 
 
 " Fourth Miss Lightner, a morning teacher in one of 
 our first-class schools. Her afternoons are devoted to the 
 pupils in the Boyd mansion. She is a young lady whose 
 presence is invariably profitable. 
 
 " Fifth Two young misses from the country, under 
 Miss Lightner's control and instruction. 
 
 " Sixth There are two vacancies, one of which will 
 be reserved, until I hear from you, for Miss Huron. 
 
 " If Miss Huron were my sister, and I were going to 
 Europe or anywhere, I would leave her here, or with 
 you. 
 
 " I will take pleasure in meeting the young lady at the 
 cars, and conducting her to Mrs. Boyd's, if you should 
 decide to consign her to this place. Or, if it would com 
 mode you, I will come down to Creswood for her. I have
 
 252 TEKEL, 
 
 nothing of moment to occupy my time at present, and 
 would be glad of an occasion to visit Creswood, and see 
 some of my old friends there, chief among whom are your 
 self, Garland, and the Gales. 
 
 " With veneration and respect, 
 
 " I remain sincerely your friend, 
 
 " CASSEL P. RAPID. 
 
 " P. S. Miss Cora Huron need not contemplate bringing 
 a maid with her if she comes here. The maid would be 
 useless. C. P. R." 
 
 " Cora," said Mr. Hope, after his conference with Os 
 wald Huron, which was in pursuance of the letter just 
 published, " your destination is fixed." 
 
 " Where am I to go ?" asked the young girl. 
 
 " Here read this letter. It will tell you better than I 
 could tell you myself." 
 
 Cora read Cassel Rapid's letter, and turning to Mr. 
 Hope, inquired, 
 
 " Who is Cassel P. Rapid ?" 
 
 " He is the son of Guy Rapid, of whom you have often 
 heard me speak." 
 
 " He is very kind," said Cora. 
 
 " He is kind, and that is not his only virtue," said the 
 old minister. " Also, he has relieved me of much anxiety. 
 What that letter says, we can both rely upon. You will 
 have a pleasant place at Mrs. Boyd's, without any doubt." 
 
 " He writes like a young man," said Cora. " Where 
 have you known him ?" 
 
 " I knew him when he was a playful little cub of a boy. 
 I have seen him within the last six months, and on my 
 word he is genuine. I intend to put you somewhat under 
 his care and guidance, for when you get so far away from 
 home, you will need a referee ; and I know of no person 
 with whom I would trust you so confidently as with him. 
 He inherits numberless good qualities from his most ex 
 cellent and worthy dead parents." 
 
 " How will I go ?" asked Cora. 
 
 " Garland and his sister Bell will go with you." 
 
 Cora was relieved. She did not fancy Cassel Rapid as 
 a lone escort.
 
 OR CORA GLEN CO E. 253 
 
 " When will you be ready to leave ?" asked Mr. Hope. 
 
 " I am ready now, or at any time which may suit your 
 convenience. You must forgive me for refusing to get 
 ready while there was sickness at Cliff Hall." 
 
 "You were a little headstrong, my dear, but I do not 
 know but that you were right, after all. I will lay no 
 blame against you there." 
 
 Cora kissed the brow of the aged minister, and withdrew 
 to her own chamber to contemplate the future which was 
 about to come actively upon her. Life, to her, had been 
 thus far like a passive existence, in which she was called 
 upon chiefly to resist. Now she was about to enter upon 
 activity and unfettered endeavor unfettered except by 
 her inexperience. 
 
 But she was fitted for contact, and would more naturally 
 absorb and gather, than lose and dissipate. 
 
 CHAPTER XXYI. 
 
 SIMPLE, unsophisticated Creswood was getting to be 
 blase. 
 
 After the eventful, heated term through which it had 
 passed, nunibering among its items and incidents, blood 
 shed, elopement, strangers, ghosts, lawsuits, and a general 
 ganging and mixing up of the people, and all crowded 
 into a single summer and autumn, nothing less rousing 
 than an earthquake or a wedding would elicit remark or 
 capture a glance ; and as neither earthquake nor wedding 
 was at hand, the greeting of the people fell into " dull 
 times " as they met and separated on their way. There 
 was no newspaper in the neighborhood to startle the popu 
 lace by wonderful editorial asseverations one week, and 
 still more wonderful contradictions and innuendoes the 
 next. Consequently Creswood became itself again, and 
 so continued for a season. 
 
 But as long as Cora Glencoe remained in Creswood, the 
 gossips would gabble concerning her and her family rela- 
 
 22
 
 254 TEKEL, 
 
 tions. But Cora was about to leave, and very unkindly 
 bear away with her the last breath of the gossips. 
 
 As Mr. Hope had promised, Garland and his sister Bell 
 accompanied Cora on her journey to New York. When 
 they arrived at the Boyd mansion, Cassel Rapid was out 
 of town, boating on the Hudson, it being a pleasant, breezy 
 day. Linda, also, was out in the city ; but Mrs. Lake re 
 ceived Cora, told Garland that she had been expected and 
 provided for, that Mrs. Boyd would soon be at home, and 
 every needful attention be bestowed upon the young lady. 
 
 Garland, who was perfectly satisfied with appearances, 
 took leave, and, with his sister Bell, went on to Connecti 
 cut to visit some relatives. 
 
 Cora felt at ease with Mrs. Lake, who was an inviting, 
 lady-like matron, and perfectly at ease herself. Mrs. Lake 
 was not slow to recognize in the new guest a superior 
 quality of girl, and a most acceptable acquisition to the 
 Boyd colony. 
 
 Linda had so improved under the tutorship of Cassel 
 Rapid, and by daily contact with those whom he had 
 secured for her companions, that she was now competent 
 to pass muster almost anywhere. Ignorance and diffidence 
 were supplanted by increasing comprehension and modest 
 confidence, and, her heart remaining pure and domestic, 
 she had already become an agreeable, well-behaved girl, 
 charming and sweet at the fireside, in the parlor, or on 
 the boulevard. 
 
 So soon as Linda had got an elementary understanding 
 of city life, and of her true position, she emerged from 
 the fog which had enveloped her, as the moon bursts 
 through banked and rifted clouds. She seemed to com 
 prehend everything all at once, and speedily learned to 
 blush at her former ignorance and simplicity. 
 
 Mr. Hope, in hie correspondence with Cassel Rapid, had 
 given the young man a sketch of Cora's life and experi 
 ence, and had fully disclosed to him her present peculiar 
 situation, that Cassel might the more knowingly judge 
 what would be the tenderest and most balmy treatment 
 for her. He also delegated to Cassel the eye and arm of 
 a guardian, requesting him to take an interest in the 
 young stranger, look after her, and see that she avoided
 
 OR CORA OLENCOE. 255 
 
 all harm. Nothing but the almost boundless confidence 
 which the old minister had in both Cassel and Cora, could 
 ever have reconciled his conscience to the course he was 
 pursuing with his young protegee, or ever have prompted 
 such a course. Ordinarily, he was furnishing the young 
 gentleman with undue opportunities, and subjecting the 
 young lady to some of those insidious perils which wait 
 upon the pathway of innocent and unsuspecting youth. 
 But the old minister had brought himself firmly to believe 
 that in Cassel's soul was neither snare nor ambush, and 
 that Cora was not a girl to be taken either at will or by 
 surprise. 
 
 Accepting the trust which Mr. Hope had gently urged 
 upon him, Cassel, with the design of preparing the way 
 for a proper performance of his assumed duty, acquainted 
 Linda with Cora's character as described by the minister, 
 and cautioned not only her but all the inmates of the 
 Boyd mansion upon the recent prominent points of Cora's 
 history. He was interested in the coming pupil, in ad 
 vance of her coming, and closed his instructions to Linda 
 by saying, 
 
 " Now, my little Urban, you must not imagine, because 
 Miss Huron has been raised in the woods, that she is 
 necessarily as green as you were when I first found you," 
 and Cassel and Linda laughed merrily. " Therefore, do 
 not attempt to patronize her, but receive her as you would 
 your present other self, just as you would like to be re 
 ceived should you go down to Creswood. To begin with, 
 remember that Miss Huron is from Creswood, and that 
 Creswood is Cassel Rapid's birthplace." 
 
 " Creswood should feel very much indebted to Cassel 
 Rapid for condescending to be born there," replied Linda, 
 with playful sarcasm. She then added, " Brother, don't 
 get vain, for if you do, I shall follow your example." 
 
 " Follow my advice, and you will do better than to copy 
 from my example," said Cassel. "I am your mentor, re 
 member, not your exemplar." 
 
 " You are my brother," said Linda, affectionately, "and 
 for your sake, if not for hers, I will endeavor to win Miss 
 Huron's heart on sight." 
 
 As before said, Linda and Cassel were both absent when
 
 256 TEKEL, 
 
 Cora arrived at the Boyd mansion, a total stranger in the 
 midst of a myriad. When Linda returned to her house 
 Cora was alone in a sitting-room, Mrs. Lake having left 
 her for a few moments. Linda, learning that Cora was in 
 the house, went to meet and welcome her. As she came 
 in at the door, Cora looked around and saw a half-hesita 
 ting girl, scarcely older than herself, with a tender, pretty 
 face, stylish form, and an air of modest investigation and 
 curiosity. She had no idea that this was the Widow Boyd, 
 the mistress of the mansion. Linda was enchanted with 
 her first sight of Cora, and her heart went out to the 
 young stranger on the instant. She stepped forward ; 
 Cora left her chair, and facing the new-comer, each stood 
 looking at the other with a half smile. 
 
 " Shall I introduce myself ?" asked Cora. 
 
 " No. I know you, but I had no conception that you 
 would be so sweet and lovely. Do you know me ?" 
 
 " I do not." 
 
 " Guess who I am." 
 
 " I cannot." 
 
 "Would you like to know?" 
 
 Here the girls both laughed. 
 
 "Yes, if your name is half as pretty as you are," said 
 Cora, returning Linda's compliment. 
 
 Linda announced herself. Cora was rejoiced and amazed. 
 This young rose-lipped girl to be a widow, and the mistress 
 of the mansion ! She could hardly realize it. 
 
 Linda, approaching nearer, held out her arms, and 
 said, 
 
 " Come let me welcome you." 
 
 Cora met her embrace, and two tender bosoms throbbed 
 against each other. 
 
 " I am so glad you have come," said Linda. " I know 
 that I shall love you, because you are so sweet and fresh 
 from the country." 
 
 " Do you love the country ?" asked Cora, whose precon 
 ceived idea of the Widow Boyd was of a different person 
 altogether from the one now before her. 
 
 "I do indeed and everything from it. I am but a 
 rustic myself, transplanted from the backwoods. But let 
 me show you your realm, and get your baggage to-
 
 OR CORA GLEN CO E. 25 T 
 
 gether." And Linda took Cora to the room set apart for 
 her. " Has your baggage arrived ?" asked Linda, glanc 
 ing about. 
 
 At this moment the alert housekeeper looked in, and 
 pointing to a small trunk, observed, 
 
 " That is all the baggage which came." 
 
 " It is all I have," said Cora. " I will be outfitted here 
 in the city." 
 
 " You are right," said Linda, " because our country 
 dresses generally look odd in the city." 
 
 The housekeeper went off, better satisfied than she had 
 been with the pomp and circumstance of one small trunk ; 
 for when she had noted the insignificant amount of bag 
 gage, and had taken a glance at Cora, she had said to 
 herself, 
 
 " Very nice, but very poor." 
 
 Underlings are apt to judge by outlying circumstances. 
 A cart-load of baggage has made many a porter polite, 
 and a diamond ring on the finger of a fop has rendered 
 many a dining-room servant obsequious, whereas, the 
 person without so much baggage, or so much ring, might 
 be by far the better of the two. 
 
 It required but a moment's observation such as females 
 rarely fail to bestow for Cora to discover that there was 
 a difference between her dresses and those of Mrs. Lake 
 and Linda ; for although her dresses were complete, they 
 did not have the appearance, in her memory, of being as 
 finished as those of the city ladies. This, however, was 
 not a matter greatly to trouble a girl of Cora's good sense 
 and financial readiness, and to tell the truth, there was but 
 one person in the whole city whom she felt a backward 
 ness about meeting, attired in whatever dress she might 
 be. This person was Cassel Rapid, whom she reflected 
 upon as a critical and fastidious city gentleman, who was 
 to exercise over her some control, along with which would 
 probably go the right or privilege of scrutinizing her attire. 
 In most things Cassel was both critical and fastidious ; 
 but in the matter of a country girl, or any other girl, he 
 would always be enlisted on the side of purity and intelli 
 gence. Let him once, see Cora's face, and he would be her 
 knight, regardless of the pattern from which her last 
 
 22*
 
 258 TEKEL, 
 
 dresses were cut. If there was a man in the world who 
 forgave trifles, it was Cassel Rapid. If there was a man 
 in the world who was considerate and tender toward the 
 tender and inexperienced, it was Cassel Rapid. And if 
 there was a man in the wide world who was the relentless 
 foe of despotic evil, it was Cassel Rapid. 
 
 Although Cora had anticipated a friendly welcome, she 
 was not prepared for the sweet and loving one which Linda 
 gave her. She was destined to yet another surprise. In 
 Cassel Rapid, the chosen one of Mr. Hope, she expected 
 to see a black-dressed, professional, and somewhat caustic- 
 looking young gentleman, whose outward appearance 
 would be faultless, whose city politeness would be killing, 
 and whose manners would be regulated by square and 
 compass, and by no means amiss so much as a hair's- 
 breadth. Why she had so conceived him she could not 
 even tell herself, but she was constantly conscious of an 
 effort at mental preparation to put herself, when she 
 should meet him, between the veritable P and Q. 
 
 As Cora, with Linda, came out of her room into the 
 hall, she heard a pleasant, manly, laughing voice, and 
 running footsteps, coming up the stairway, and in a mo 
 ment Cassel Rapid appeared at the head of the stairs, 
 shaking bis finger in saucy triumph at some one below. 
 He was dressed in sailor's habit, and was just off the 
 water, where he had been boating. As he came along the 
 hall, Cora, not in the least suspecting that this was the 
 formidable personage who was to hold a sort of dominion 
 over her, did not hesitate to let her eyes rest upon him. 
 Cassel was barely twenty-two years of age, very youthful 
 in appearance when he was happy, and, when on a frolic, 
 looked no other than a boy. He was just now from below- 
 stairs, and from kissing little five-year-old Lily Lake, who 
 had chased him up the steps in an effort at reprisal. As he 
 came along the hall, his face lighted with sportive anima 
 tion, his step unstudied, and his sailor's dress suggesting 
 the freedom of the wind and billow, Cora thought that she 
 had never seen so bright and manly a youth. 
 
 " Oh, here is my brother Mr. Rapid," eagerly said 
 Linda, half to Cora and half to Cassel, as he approached. 
 
 Cora was Car more surprised than when she learned that
 
 OR CORA QLENCOE. 259 
 
 the girlish Linda was the Widow Boyd and the mistress 
 of Boyd mansion. Was it possible that this school-boy 
 was Mr. Cassel P. Rapid, her quasi guardian ? and was he 
 Linda's brother ? 
 
 When Cassel, with a smiling look of inquiry, halted be 
 fore Linda, she, glancing at Cora, said, 
 
 " Mr. Rapid, Miss Huron has arrived, permit me to 
 present you." 
 
 Cassel, in defiance of cold etiquette, held out his hand. 
 Cora looked into his face, and after an instant's hesitation, 
 daintily placed her hand in his. 
 
 " I always seek the grasp," said Cassel, pleasantly, " of 
 any coming from Creswood under the blessing of Mr. 
 Hope. Have you just arrived ?" 
 
 "Yes, sir, but half an hour ago." 
 
 " Sister," asked Cassel, turning to Linda, " is everything 
 comfortable ?" 
 
 " If it is not, it's your fault," replied Linda, " for you 
 have been away on the water altogether out of season." 
 
 " This," said Cassel to Cora and smiling at Linda, " is 
 the Queen Bee of our hive. I perceive," he added, glanc 
 ing into Cora's room, " that she has given you a sunny 
 cell. Do not let her spoil you with favoritism." 
 
 " I am in danger, I assure you," said Cora, with a lovely 
 blush of pleasure. " I feel so very much at home already." 
 
 " You are at home," replied Cassel with that smile and 
 pleasant eye of his which never failed to win. " But 
 would you not like to write back to Creswood announcing 
 your arrival ?" 
 
 " I would indeed," replied Cora. 
 
 " I will bring you writing material," said Cassel, going 
 to his own room. 
 
 " Is he your brother ?" asked Cora of Linda. 
 
 " Oh, no, we are no kin. But I call him brother, be 
 cause he has been so kind and noble with me. I have no 
 brother of my own, but I never want a better one than 
 brother Cassel. He made me call him brother when I 
 first knew him, and now I've got so accustomed to it that 
 I would hardly know bow else to address him. Don't 
 you think he is handsome ?" 
 
 "I do,," answered Cora.
 
 260 TEKEL, 
 
 "Oh, he is beautiful!" said Linda, with enthusiasm. 
 "And then he is so very, very thoughtful and kind; so 
 gentle, to be a man. You are bound to love him, you 
 can't help it." 
 
 " Is he a sailor ?" innocently asked Cora. 
 
 " No," replied Linda, laughing at the question. " Did 
 you ever see a sailor with so white a hand and neck? He 
 has just returned from a water frolic." 
 
 Cassel now reappeared with writing material, and hand 
 ing it to Linda, said, 
 
 " Little Urban, do the dainty duties of your house by 
 depositing these in Miss Huron's room." 
 
 Once upon a time, Cassel told Linda that when she 
 ceased to be a country girl, and got to be a city lady, he 
 would cease to call her little Sylvan, and get to calling 
 her little Urban, when he did not use the privilege of ad 
 dressing her as " sister." The time had already come 
 when he felt justified in using the appellative of "little 
 Urban." Turning to Cora, be observed, smilingly, 
 
 " Miss Huron, in Spanish they do not say that a distin 
 guished person 'has arrived,' but 'has finished to ar 
 rive.' You have simply arrived. When you have written 
 to Creswood, announcing that welcome fact, and conveying 
 to Mr. Hope my reverence and love, then you will have 
 finished your arrival. You see that little box there by 
 the window-side, at the head of the stairs ? That is our 
 mail-box. Place your letters in it, and they will go out 
 upon the first train." 
 
 Cassel was about to withdraw, when Lily Lake appeared 
 at the head of the steps, and seemed waiting for an encour 
 agement to come forward. 
 
 "Come here, Lily," said Cassel. "Here is our new 
 friend." 
 
 Li4y, a dulcet, open-eyed little creature, skipped up to 
 Cora. Cassel duly presented her. Cora took her and 
 kissed her. Lily said, 
 
 " Mamma told me to come up and give you welcome. He 
 is a rogue," said she, abruptly, pouting and turning her 
 eyes upon Cassel. " He steals kisses from me every day ; 
 and if you don't mind he will steal 'em from you." 
 
 Cora blushed, and Cassel, bowing to her in gay humor,
 
 OR CORA GLENCOE. 261 
 
 and as if he would as soon steal a kiss as not, withdrew 
 and went down-stairs, but soon passed back again to 
 change his clothes. Cora invited Lily into her room. 
 
 "No," said Lily, " mamma said for me not to bother 
 you, but to give you welcome and come away, and when 
 you got rested, that I might come to see you some days. 
 May I ? 
 
 "Yes, you little sweet!" and Cora released Lily, after 
 kissing her pretty mouth over and over. Lily ran down 
 stairs, elated with the success of her welcome. 
 
 Cosa withdrew to her room, where Linda, with her own 
 hands, was making it as comfortable and tidy as possible. 
 
 " What shall I call you ?" asked Linda. 
 
 "Call me Cora." 
 
 " If I knew that you would like me," said the girl- 
 widow, " I would ask you to call me Linda." 
 
 " I already like you," answered Cora, whose soft eyes 
 thrilled with that appreciation which she felt but had not 
 spoken. 
 
 " I shall love you," said the artless, open-hearted Linda. 
 
 " I am certain to return your affection," responded Cora, 
 who felt a world of need for something to love. The two 
 girls would probably have gone into each other's arms, 
 but each feared that the other might think such a demon 
 stration somewhat foolish or overdone. They did not re 
 flect that it was the fashion among girls to be foolish and 
 to overdo in such matters. 
 
 Linda left Cora, feeling that she would like to court the 
 pure-eyed, statuesque, self-dependent girl, with whose 
 lovely face and sweet manners she was delighted and 
 charmed In doing her duty, she had done herself a pleas 
 ure. In the beginning, she was essaying to satisfy her 
 brother Cassel. In the progression and conclusion, she 
 lost sight of her brother's injunctions, and acted from self- 
 impulse. 
 
 Cora was fully alive to her exceeding and unlooked-for 
 welcome, and realized speedily and happily that she would 
 be among companions in the Boyd mansion. She wrote 
 to Mr. Hope, telling him that the sun had risen clear, 
 giving promise of a cloudless day. 
 
 After tea, Linda introduced Cora to the parlors, where
 
 262 TEKEL, 
 
 was gathered the Boyd colony, except Cassel, who was 
 either in his room or away in the city, and except Uncle 
 Jesse, who stood no nonsense. Mr. Lake was first pre 
 sented to Cora. He was a middle-aged, substantial, good- 
 looking gentleman, who engaged Cora in a pleasant con 
 versation, into which Mrs Lake soon glided, -next Lily 
 and then Miss Emma Lake, who, having received an in 
 troduction, was, like all alert and adventurous school- 
 misses, on the qui vive for chums and accomplices. The 
 Misses Rochester, two well-behaved and pretty school 
 girls from rural New York, twins, by-the-way,-next 
 joined the coterie. Lastly, Miss Lightner, the school 
 mistress, a cultivated young lady, aged about twenty, 
 completed the circle which gathered about Cora. Each 
 one had some word or token of welcome to offer, as though 
 the colony was consanguineal, and Cora a returning or 
 rallying member of it. 
 
 An uncommonly agreeable evening sent Cora to bed 
 with a cheerful feeling at her heart. 
 
 On the next morning, about eleven o'clock, a card was 
 handed in to Cora. She took it and found the name 
 Cassel P. Rapid engraved thereon. 
 
 " He wishes to see me ?" she asked. 
 
 " Yes, Miss Huron," answered the servant. " He is 
 waiting for you in the large parlors." 
 
 Cora went down immediately. She did not touch a hair 
 or smooth a fold. She was no longer afraid of Mr. Cassel 
 Rapid, whom sight had transformed from a discreet, grave 
 gentleman, into a rollicking sailor-boy. 
 
 Cora entered the parlors and looked around. Cassel 
 was the sole occupant. He arose, bowed to her with per 
 fect manner, gave her a chair, and seated himself in front 
 of her. 
 
 Cora was almost overwhelmed with surprise and mod 
 esty. Before her was a young gentleman, seemingly taller 
 than the sailor-boy of the day before, dressed in a suit of 
 black the appointments of which were faultless, and, from 
 top to toe, looking as elegant and distinguished as a young 
 noble. The sparkle of his eyes had receded into their calm 
 violet depths, and the boyish brilliancy and holiday glow 
 of his countenance had given way to a magisterial, intel-
 
 OR CORA GLENCOE. 263 
 
 lectual tranquillity, beneath which, to Cora's eye, slept 
 the power and magic of a young god. She almost trem 
 bled with a sense of inferiority, as she looked upon this 
 prince of manliness and beauty, so rare, complete, and 
 self-sustained. She waited, half demurely, for Cassel to 
 lead the conversation, or broach whatever subject that 
 might have prompted him to solicit her company. He 
 commenced to talk. Before he had proceeded far, Cora 
 forgot herself, attending to his speech, and watching the 
 exquisite light and play of his comely and surpassing 
 features. Cassel was making an effort for ascendency, 
 and every little gesture that escaped him gave weight or 
 point to its accompanying words. He continued to talk 
 for almost half an hour, without giving her an opportunity 
 of saying half a dozen words ; but she felt no disposition 
 to say only to listen. As the perfect flower unfolds 
 itself to the genial sun, leaf after leaf, until the last one is 
 open to be read of its beauty and snuffed of its fragrance, 
 so did Cassel Rapid, as softly and consecutively as the 
 opening of a flower, unfold to Cora the pages of her prob 
 able future in the giant city. Cora was given thoroughly 
 to understand her status, which, from the evidence present 
 and within call, promised to be an exceedingly gracious and 
 agreeable one. 
 
 "Mr. Hope," concluded Cassel, breaking away from the 
 magisterial air which he had assumed, and resuming his 
 more characteristic one, that of a brother to all young in 
 nocents who crossed his path, " has favored me with this 
 pleasant duty. Look upon me, therefore, as your elected 
 knight and counselor, not your tyrant, to whom you may 
 always come for advice, escort, protection, or vindication. 
 You must make your requisitions on me as freely as you 
 would dip water from a fountain, for the pleasure you will 
 give me by doing so will be of the kind which never tires 
 or cloys." 
 
 "Mr. Rapid," said Cora, with a thrilling sweetness 
 which told upon Cassel's heart, " I was totally unprepared 
 to meet so much tenderness and generous encouragement 
 from your friends and yourself. I am conscious that to 
 you in chief I am indebted, and hope you will believe me 
 when I tell you that my gratitude will never sleep. I
 
 264 TEKEL, t 
 
 confide in you, and therefore accept you as guide and 
 guardian, and hope to give you as little trouble as pos 
 sible." 
 
 "You will cause me no trouble," said Cassel, and then 
 added, as if to himself, " such as, perhaps, you antici 
 pate. But here," he continued, handing her a sheet of 
 paper, "is a Bill of Rights. I have drawn it up for you, 
 that you may know your privileges, and not be imposed 
 upon by the servants. You will be under no restrictions 
 except those of your own conscience. The house is free 
 to you, and Linda that is, Mrs. Boyd will be your sister, 
 if you will." 
 
 " I did not imagine," said Cora, " that there was to be 
 found such a home for me as this." 
 
 " You have found it nevertheless," replied Cassel, cheer 
 fully, " and I do not doubt that you are worthy of it. This 
 afternoon say at five o'clock I wish to see you, here, to 
 arrange your studies and consult about your teachers. 
 You will please bring me a list of studies in which you 
 are thorough, another list in which you are advanced, 
 and still another upon which you have not entered but 
 wish to enter. And now, I will release you, until the 
 afternoon appointment." 
 
 As Cora withdrew, she cast a glance back at the young 
 gentleman who was so kind and gentle with her ; his eye 
 caught hers, she blushed, they both smiled, Cora escaped, 
 and Cassel said to himself, 
 
 " There goes my wife if it is possible." 
 
 This was, by no means, love at first sight, for Cassel was 
 among the very last to be so flashed upon ; and he was not 
 when he said, " there goes my wife " in love with Cora. 
 He did not know but that her heart was already pledged, 
 young as she was ; and should it be, he would hardly at 
 tempt to distract her, or to undo the happiness of the one 
 to whom it might be given, by filching it from him. But 
 with Cora's unmistakable loveliness he was perfectly satis 
 fied, as much so as if he had known her for seasons ; for 
 her beauty was of that delicate, pure, and sprightly order 
 delicious with mingled vigor and softness about which 
 there could be no question or after-opinion, and about 
 which seemed to be an atmosphere of enchantment. She
 
 OR CORA GLENCOE. 265 
 
 possessed it, beyond artifice or dispute, and the beholder, 
 whether for the first or hundredth time, was sure to see it, 
 and feel its influence. Her face was inclined to the oval or 
 Italian cast, and was almost as white as milk, except 
 where it was tinted by health and suffused with modesty. 
 Her carmine mouth was tender and tempting, and her 
 firm dark eyes were soft and true, and exquisitely con 
 scious. Her character, as represented to Cassel by Mr. 
 Hope, was as complete and lovely as her person. Her in 
 telligence and natural chaste style he had already recog 
 nized. What more, therefore, could he wish to know ? 
 Although he did not love her yet, he was conscious that 
 he would do so, unless some accident or change of pro 
 gramme should put her beyond his reach and sight. He 
 felt that she would be his equal, and fully worthy of him, 
 if not past-worthy. His first prudent action, therefore, 
 would be to preserve the integrity of his heart if possible, 
 until he should ascertain, probably from Mr. Hope, other 
 wise by finessing, whether or not she herself was intact. 
 If he should be convinced that Cora was free from all en 
 tanglement, then would he endeavor to entangle her in the 
 web of love. 
 
 Cassel Rapid's associates out in the city often called 
 him Belvedere, referring to the unequaled Apollo in the 
 Belvedere gallery of the Vatican. They also imagined 
 that, on account of his youth, wealth, and singular per 
 sonal beauty, added to which were many accomplishments 
 both manly and rare, he had every reason in the world to 
 be vain and haughty, and were upon occasions surprised 
 at and impatient with him, when, for instance, he would 
 stop a whole party of aristrocratic pleasure seekers of 
 whom he was one, to shake hands and pass compliments 
 with a tanned laborer, or lift a ragged little girl over a 
 mud-hole. 
 
 But Cassel, notwithstanding the opinions of his asso 
 ciates, had no reason whatever to be either vain or haughty. 
 It is not those upon whom Nature, in conjunction with 
 Fortune, has bountifully showered her surpassing gifts, 
 who are so inclined. It is only those to whom has 
 been vouchsafed enough just a little to make fools of 
 them. Some there be, who, having only a proper nose, 
 
 23
 
 266 TEKEL, 
 
 will nose their way through the world : or if it be an eye, 
 they will ogle you here and ogle you there : if the teeth, 
 they will grin out their mundane existence : and if the 
 form, they will strut their way to the grave. Cassel had 
 no special feature which he considered the best, or desired 
 to thrust forward. He did not make his diamond-mounted 
 finger any more prominent than his unadorned knuckles. 
 He did not attempt to repoise his head. His natural 
 walk being the easiest, he did not substitute a unique 
 style of locomotion. His voluntary smile being more 
 ready than a cultivated smirk, he did not excruciate his 
 facial nerves; a number seven boot fitting his foot com 
 fortably, he did not wear an uncomfortable number six ; 
 putting himself upon his individual merits, he borrowed 
 no brilliancy from distinguished relations, dead or alive : 
 and, altogether, he suited himself so well, that he essayed 
 no inordinate improvement upon the original work ; he 
 would but keep it to the standard of its originality and 
 true capacity ; the only trimming of Nature which sug 
 gested itself of any great importance, was the occasional 
 paring of his nails, and the shortening of his hair ; in the 
 multiplicity of his good looks, he could well afford to dis 
 pense with the greater portion of his capillary attractions ; 
 for he did not aspire to the dirty-naped sect of the long 
 haired distingue and consequently his hair was never 
 suffered to soil his coat collar or draggle in his soup. 
 
 Cassel and Cora met at five o'clock in the afternoon. 
 She handed him a small memorandum-book, and then 
 stood modestly by his chair, pointing him to the entries 
 in the little book. 
 
 "Here," said she, "is Mr. Hope's enumeration of my 
 studies, including finished, unfinished, and not-commenced." 
 
 " Is this list complete ?" asked Cassel, looking up pleas 
 antly into Cora's face. 
 
 " It is very flattering, and possibly in excess of being 
 complete," answered Cora. 
 
 " Mr. Hope is too old, and too sensible, to waste time in 
 flattering young ladies," observed Cassel, with negligent 
 truth. 
 
 " You consider flattery a waste of time, do you ?" ven 
 tured Cora, a little sportively.
 
 OR CORA GLENCOE. 26f 
 
 "When a man has anything else in the world to do, as 
 few have not, I can answer, yes." 
 
 "And when he has not?" 
 
 " Then he had better commit the Rash Act." 
 
 " What marry ?" asked Cora, with bright humor, and 
 greatly at fault, for she remembered to have heard that 
 marriage was considered the most uncertain, adventurous, 
 and probably the rashest act of a person's life. 
 
 " No ! not so bad as that," laughingly protested Cassel. 
 "I meant suicide." 
 
 " Self-slaughter !" was Cora's surprised and grave re 
 sponse. 
 
 " In so extreme a case I would consider it justifiable 
 homicide," observed Cassel, somewhat drolly. 
 
 "Don't you think 'justifiable' is a misnomer?" asked 
 Cora, who felt prompted to sound the moral ethics of the 
 young gentleman who was to be her guide. 
 
 Cassel, who was perfectly willing to dally with the 
 young girl, asked, in pretended earnest, 
 
 " What in such a case as the one in question ?" 
 
 " In any case, where life is involved." 
 
 Cassel gave a quick glance into Cora's face. Something 
 in her voice arrested his attention. He asked, 
 
 " Are you serious ?" 
 
 "I am." 
 
 " Well, now, if it is a matter on which you wish to get 
 my opinion, 'justifiable homicide' is, like almost every other 
 phrase, both properly and improperly applied, as the case 
 may happen." 
 
 "But can it be popularly and properly applied, in any 
 case of slaughter by one person of another, except in the 
 event of pure self-defense from imminent murder ?" 
 
 " Are there no crimes which merit death ? no exigen 
 cies which render the dealer thereof justifiable ?" asked 
 Cassel just a little sternly. 
 
 "But the laws should visit it." 
 
 " The law, in some of its functions, is like a broken and 
 contemptible vessel, holding neither wrath nor retribution 
 over the outlaw holding nothing. It is the law itself 
 which, in peculiar, instead of repressing or punishing 
 crime, forces true men to become ferocious and bloody
 
 2f58 TKKEL, 
 
 gladiators, avenging their own unrighted wrongs. But 
 you are too innocent of the world to understand me." 
 
 " To kill is a wretched and extreme resort, an act, in 
 my opinion, which kills the soul of him who slays the 
 body, be it his own body, or that of another." 
 
 " Pallida mars," said Cassel, reflectively: "it is an 
 extreme resort; but there are times when nothing but 
 death itself is due. When you have lived longer, you, 
 also, may think so." 
 
 Here again was that long-time prophetic asseveration 
 of "when you have lived longer," "when you grow 
 older," " when you see more of the world, to know it." 
 The woodland maiden asked herself "What is this mystic 
 knowledge which age and experience is to bring me ? 
 Am I so unlike to others that I do not see creation and its 
 laws and duties as the intelligent, vast world sees them ? 
 What is my lack, or my fault ? I feel that my mind is 
 clear, but in all my contact with those who have gained 
 knowledge from experience I am set at naught as too young 
 to know." 
 
 Cora's reflections were interrupted by Cassel, who said, 
 in continuation, 
 
 " However, we are off the subject entirely. Let us get 
 back to our books." 
 
 Cora had seen one man killed, almost at her feet. From 
 her earliest recollection she had lived in the same house 
 with a strange being, who, she had recently learned from 
 Carroll May's family history as written by Captain Gale, 
 was a man-slayer. Ordinarily, she avoided the subject of 
 human blood. But she was prone, by circumstances, to 
 think of it. As far as she had discussed it with Mr. Hope, 
 she had found him and herself well agreed. She was now 
 called upon to place herself under the guidance of Cassel 
 Rapid, a youth of whom she knew nothing except from 
 good report. Any subject, therefore, the discussion of 
 which might indicate to her his inner character, was likely 
 to be seized upon, especially the one just now so briefly 
 treated between them, however abrupt or slight the oc 
 casion might be. As she stood close up to Cassel, her 
 hand, which was pure of every stain, touching his, in fact, 
 as they were exchanging the memorandum-book, with
 
 OR CORA GLENCOE. 269 
 
 what freezing horror would she have sprung away from 
 him, and shrunk from the touches of that hand, which, 
 with all its mustered might, had driven the dagger to its 
 hilt in a human heart, and would do it again and again, 
 and a thousand times again under like incentive, had she 
 but known or guessed the simple fact that there was hu 
 man blood upon it ! In Cora's code were copied the words, 
 " Thou shalt not kill." They were underscored by well* 
 remembered, painful experience, more of which she de 
 voutly wished that neither age nor mystic revelation 
 would ever bring her ; for she felt that nothing which the 
 future might reveal would ever temper her mind to forget 
 or ignore the ancient saying, " Thou shalt not kill." 
 
 " Do you prefer male or female teachers?" asked Cassel. 
 
 "In most branches of learning I prefer the male," an 
 swered Cora. 
 
 " Why the male ?" asked Cassel, who was already dis 
 posed to be a little jealous of the hours which Cora might 
 spend with her masculine instructors. 
 
 " Because," answered she, " I think that possibly I 
 might derive more benefit by coming in contact with the 
 masculine mind." 
 
 "You regard the brain of our sex, then, as stronger 
 than that of your own ?" 
 
 " I regard it as different, not so minute, but perhaps 
 more comprehensive, certainly ruder and stronger." 
 
 " Hence," said Cassel, jocularly, "the expression, 'strong- 
 minded women,' as applied to those of your sex who affect 
 masculine heads and masculine capacity." 
 
 "That may be," answered Cora "I know nothing 
 about it ; there are none such in my old neighborhood." 
 
 " How do you think that / would suit you as your in 
 structor in General Philosophy ?" asked Cassel. 
 
 " You /" exclaimed Cora, startled into an exhibition of 
 too much surprise. 
 
 " Yes," replied Cassel. 
 
 " You are too young," said Cora, as if announcing an 
 unquestionable fact. 
 
 Cassel felt himself blush beneath Cora's honest eyes and 
 words ; for she had told him exactly the truth. However 
 well he may have been advanced in the different branches 
 
 23*
 
 270 TEKEL, 
 
 of Philosophy, he could not have combined experience 
 with reading, and was not, in the broad sense, competent 
 to distill those golden drops which Cora was in search of. 
 She wanted the results and deductions of the gray head, 
 and not those of untried and half-initiated youth. 
 
 " Please do not feel hurt, Mr. Rapid," said Cora very 
 sweetly, as she saw Cassel's color rise. 
 
 " Hurt," replied Cassel while his eyes rested somewhat 
 investigatingly upon her, " I will answer you as Linda 
 Mrs. Boyd, I mean once answered me : ' I am not hurt 
 at all, I am ashamed.' You have put your answer per 
 tinently and upon the very point, I am too young. But 
 a less truthful person than yourself would have objected 
 in some other and less acceptable way. Always treat me 
 thus," said Cassel in a deep, impressive tone, " and we 
 shall be the best of friends." 
 
 Cora's value had instantly doubled in Cassel's estima 
 tion, and he meantime had gained greatly upon her ; for 
 as she looked at him in his modest susceptibility and in 
 telligent beauty, she felt that about him was a charm 
 which would give him mastery wherever he might seek it. 
 He continued : 
 
 " You have truly said that I am too young to teach 
 you Philosophy, for I am in the very springtime of my 
 life and acquisition. What, therefore, could I tell you of 
 Life's Summer its Autumn or its Winter ? Under Mr. 
 Hope you have progressed well, as I see from your note 
 book ; especially in all ethical studies. You should have 
 finished your philosophical education under him, so far as 
 it can be finished at the school-desk. His venerable years, 
 intelligent mind, and pure principles well fitted him for 
 pouring out the limpid Truth ; whereas, should I engage 
 you an instructor here, I fear that he would mingle with 
 the Truth the subtlety and venom of Metaphysics. I 
 divide Philosophy into only two parts tangible and in 
 tangible material and immaterial. The first is demon 
 strable to the senses of the eye, ear, touch, etc. ; the 
 second must be grasped and turned over in the mind. In 
 material Philosophy you are registered high by Mr. Hope, 
 who has marked ' sufficient ' opposite each branch upon 
 which you have been engaged. To immaterial Philosophy
 
 OR COKA GLEXCOE. 2U 
 
 numberless fountains contribute, but none of them are 
 pure but one, which is not only pure but exhaustless. I 
 have it for you, here if you will come and look," and 
 Cassel led the way to a center-table, on which was a 
 handsome Bible. Turning to a fly-leaf, Cassel pointed 
 Cora to an inscription which presented the book to Miss 
 Cora Glencoe Huron, and beneath which was signed the 
 names of all the members of the Boyd colony, including 
 that of Uncle Jesse and of Lily Lake. 
 
 "Let this," said Cassel, "be your teacher, as I am 
 satisfied it has been. No eye hath seen, or heart felt, or 
 tongue told, what you will not find within its compass. 
 If the lion is bold, this is bolder ; if the sea is deep, this is 
 deeper; if the world is wide, this is wider; if there is 
 beauty in the universe, it is in the matchless pensiveness 
 of the parables of Christ. ' Consider the lilies of the 
 field, how they grow ; they toil not, neither do they spin : 
 and yet I say unto you, That even Solomon in all his glory 
 was not arrayed like one of these.' Be you therefore, my 
 young friend, a ' Lily' whose modest pure loveliness puts 
 to shame the pomp and magnificence of princes, and is by 
 Christ himself exalted above the glory and grandeur of 
 imperial thrones." 
 
 Cassel was by no means pedantic in what he had to 
 say, but earnest and tender. Cora was thrilled to the 
 heart, and her speaking eyes told truly what she felt. 
 She suitably acknowledged the sacred gift of the Boyd 
 colony, and almost repented that she had not accepted 
 Cassel as her preceptor in Philosophy, he seemed so 
 gentle, and faultless, and firm. 
 
 Cassel and Cora, between them, arranged the pro 
 gramme of her studies, and Cora, whose means were 
 ample, would soon be well provided with teachers, whose 
 duty it would be to instruct her in various accomplish 
 ments, solid and light, at the Boyd mansion. 
 
 " Now for a matter of business," said Cassel. " Here 
 is a blank check-book, with the name and style of the 
 banking-house where your funds are deposited. When 
 you need money, check on Sarazzin & Sarazzin, pass the 
 check to me, and I will draw the money and deliver it to 
 you. And although your cash account will be accurately
 
 272 TEKEL, 
 
 kept by the banking-house, you must, as a sort of business 
 lesson, keep it also, in this little book, a pass-book by-the- 
 way." 
 
 " Is this not a Jew house ?" asked Cora. 
 
 "Yes." 
 
 " Do you do business with Jews ?" 
 
 " Why not ? 
 
 " I thought they were all dishonest." 
 
 " Who taught you that ?" 
 
 "No one. I absorbed the opinion, seemingly from a 
 rife atmosphere." 
 
 "And from the same atmosphere you might have ab 
 sorbed rheumatism or earache. But did you ever see a 
 Jew?" 
 
 " Do you mean a Hebrew ?" 
 
 " Yes." 
 
 " I do not know that I ever did." 
 
 " Do you know what a Hebrew is ?" 
 
 "A human being!" answered Cora, half amazed at the 
 question. " A descendant of Abraham." 
 
 " Very true and of whom are we the descendants ? 
 Of some other man, who, by all odds, is not near so illus 
 trious or hoary with record as Abraham. A Jew or a 
 Gentile, under the same circumstances, is pretty much the 
 same manner of man, with the balance, if any, probably 
 in favor of the Jew. Listen to me but a moment on this 
 subject for although I am not of their faith, there is a 
 charm and invincible fortitude about the Jews, which 
 excite silent wonder and admiration, if not open applause. 
 Among all the races on the face of the globe, I do not 
 think that there has been, or is one, which would have 
 emerged from more than eighteen centuries of persecution, 
 slaughter, pillage, and doglike treatment, with as many 
 marks of its grand old ancestry upon it as have the Jews. 
 There is probably not a race which would have left even 
 an idiot to tell the tale of its former existence. The 
 Chaldeans, who of old, crossed cimeters with them, are 
 extinct. Babylon, which held them captive, is dust. 
 Rome, which drew tributary coin from Christ himself, is 
 in ruins, cowering beneath the mailed hand of an alien. 
 Greece, which supplied an almost universal language for
 
 OR CORA GLENCOE. 273 
 
 the Hebrew Scriptures, sits impotently upon the Mediter 
 ranean, the ghost of glory. On the contrary, the Jews 
 now influence the councils of the greatest nations of the 
 earth. But I will not preach you a sermon about the 
 Jews. I will only say this trust neither Jew nor Gentile 
 until you know the man, and even then trust yourself the 
 most. But back again to business. Linda tells me that 
 you have need of a dress-maker. If it will be agreeable 
 to you, we will all go out to-morrow, and arrange for your 
 wants." 
 
 "Thank you," said Cora. "Nothing would please me 
 better, or be more timely." 
 
 " It is very pleasant shopping when one has plenty of 
 money," pleasantly observed Cassel. " Linda enjoys it 
 so much that it is a delight to go with her. I believe, 
 however, that such enjoyment is common and peculiar to 
 the sex. In contrast, there are few things which gentle 
 men so dislike and postpone as the preliminaries necessary 
 to the securing of a seasonable wardrobe." 
 
 " But when it is secured they are fond enough of dis 
 playing it," said Cora, with playful raillery. 
 
 "Not so fond but that the ladies are yet fonder." 
 
 "We are all weak," said Cora, "and abide in glass 
 houses." 
 
 " And should therefore throw kisses instead of stones," 
 somewhat encroachingly rejoined Cassel, at whose remark 
 Cora, in trying not to blush, blushed the deeper and more 
 charmingly. 
 
 On the following day Linda, Cora, and Cassel went to 
 the establishment where Linda, under Cassel's auspices, had 
 obtained her first nice-fitting dresses, and where the female 
 portion of the Boyd colony were accustomed to deal. ^ 
 Madame, very well pleased with the idea of securing a 
 new and promising customer, and equally satisfied with 
 Cora's looks and symmetry, exerted herself both profes 
 sionally and socially to please to the uttermost. 
 
 She went with the trio to numberless shops where 
 were kept all the fineries and niceries requisite to make 
 a young girl look as Beautiful as a Butterfly. She se 
 lected, rejected, explained, suggested, and badgered the 
 salesmen with effective ability.
 
 274 . TEKEL, 
 
 " You," said she to Cora, " can wear any color you like. 
 It is true, your face is very white, but your complexion is 
 so pure and healthy and your blushes so accurate and 
 enhancing, that you may dictate to the colors instead of 
 being restricted by them. I propose to get you up a 
 regular rainbow wardrobe a different color for each day 
 in the week, with intermediate tints for morning and mid 
 day lounging." 
 
 " I never lounge," replied Cora, laughing. 
 
 "But you must learn to lounge," humorously and sin 
 cerely insisted the rnadame, as if it were the most ravish 
 ing thing of all others to be done. "Mrs. Boyd has 
 learned it," continued she, tapping Linda's cheek play 
 fully and chucking her under the chin, "and I know that 
 Mr. Rapid indulges himself." 
 
 Cora was in a sea of novelty and enjoyment. Like 
 every other sensible, spirited young girl, she was delighted 
 with her outfitting expedition, and examined goods, laces, 
 trimmings, and all sorts of female trumpery, with spark 
 ling eyes and palpitating heart. 
 
 Back again at the dress-maker's establishment, after 
 Cora's dimensions had been taken and recorded, the ma- 
 dame, apart with Cassel, said, 
 
 " Mr. Rapid, your friends are so easy to fit. I have 
 no angles to turn, bones to overlay, or hollows to fill. 
 There is Mrs. Lake, and her children, and Miss Lightner, 
 all good forms. Mrs. Boyd is still better. But Miss 
 Huron is a young Venus, and as shy as a chamois. It 
 is a rare delight just to take her measure." And madame 
 smiled knowingly at the young man. 
 
 Cassel only smiled in return at this rather indelicate 
 language for madame was French, and he didn't care ; 
 he could stand anything which she might venture to say, 
 particularly if it complimented Cora or developed her to 
 him. He had not doubted the young girl's symmetry, 
 and yet it was pleasure to him, faintly voluptuous, to have 
 it confirmed and whispered into his ear by this female 
 latitudinarian who was just from manipulating Cora's 
 virgin form.
 
 OR CORA GLENCOE. 275 
 
 CHAPTER XXVII. 
 
 CASSEL'S day with Cora among the shops, dress-makers, 
 and milliners, and the darling sweetness with which she 
 conducted herself through all the turmoil and vexing inde 
 cisions consequent upon such a day, set him seriously to 
 thinking. He was beginning to thirst for her society. He 
 was sensible that he must get nearer to her, or get away 
 from her altogether. 
 
 He wrote to Mr Hope. We will make a few extracts 
 from the old minister's reply. 
 
 " I am satisfied," wrote Mr. Hope, " that Cora's heart 
 is essentially free. She has had but little opportunity to 
 form any but school-room attachments. She doubtless has 
 had, and may yet have, her preferences ; but the only pre 
 ference which might have fallen into a loving attachment, 
 of which I have the least knowledge, was restrained from 
 that course by the influence of events in the family history 
 of either party. I refer in this connection to Carroll May. 
 You have not seen him since you were both little curly- 
 headed pets of Creswood, you the elder, I believe, by a 
 couple of years. He is a very promising youth, though 
 perhaps somewhat hasty, or touchy, in his temper. He 
 goes to New York this winter to seek his fortune, and 
 probably too confident that it is there." 
 
 Mr. Hope, at no little sacrifice of ease and expenditure of 
 ink, then explained to Cassel the non-intercourse which had 
 so long existed between Cora and Carroll, mentioned their 
 many years' occupation of the same school-room, gave it 
 as his opinion that they, though silent, had been somewhat 
 affected toward each other, and would probably have be 
 come permanently attached, but for that life-long inhibition 
 ordered by Oswald Huron, and of which the reader is well 
 aware. What changes the recent developments in regard 
 to Cora's parentage would superinduce, he was not able to 
 foresee. He then gave Cassel, in this connection and 
 anew, the history of the Huron war.
 
 276 TEKEL, 
 
 " The result," wrote he, "appears mainly to rest upon 
 the finding of Maria Guthr-ie, the Huron nurse, and pro 
 ducing her or her depositions. 
 
 " Oswald Huron surprised every one by the consecutive 
 calmness with which he conducted himself, and the ability 
 with which he managed his cause. 
 
 "Neville Huron did not, in all probability, sufficiently 
 heed the advice of Hector O'Dare, Captain Gale, and 
 others, but placed too much reliance upon the lawyers, old 
 friends of his, whom he sent here from Philadelphia. It 
 has long been considered a tough stocking that which 
 'Philadelphia lawyers' cannot unravel; but in this in 
 stance, they failed, or fell behind their reputation. They 
 probably did not anticipate meeting the first legal talent 
 of Maryland, and when they learned that it was to be 
 Sparta against Sparta, with all the advantages of arms 
 and preparation on the other side, it was too late to correct 
 their position. Hence the compromise, which they were 
 glad enough to effect, and which they could not have ef 
 fected had it materially changed the immediate destiny or 
 disposition of Cora, as contemplated by Oswald Huron. 
 
 " But now to the matter which you no doubt consider 
 as greater in importance than all the foregoing. ' Do I 
 object to your striving to win Cora while she is under my 
 guardianship ?' I will answer you as though she were 
 my own daughter, or you were my son. You may win 
 her, if you can, but you must not woo her : that is, you 
 may simply secure her heart, but do not bewilder her, or 
 fritter away her time. You will understand me I am 
 convinced. I have an interest in Cora I have almost 
 raised her. She is overly dear to me, and will be to all 
 who may know her. She will soon be sought after, 
 whether I will it or not. You are just a little wild, my 
 dear boy, or have I forgotten my youth when I say so ?" 
 
 Cassel thought that the old minister had certainly 
 forgotten when he was a green sprig. The letter con 
 tinued : 
 
 " However, I have an old man's affection for you; also, 
 I trust you. Comply, then, with my wishes, and you have 
 my consent to win, if you can, a precious little gem of 
 'purest ray serene.' But remember that my consent is
 
 OR CORA GLENCOE. 277 
 
 a very limited one. It is that, merely, of Mr. Hope, whose 
 propriety and right in the matter might well be ques 
 tioned in toto. You, however, have had the sense and 
 delicacy to perceive my moral responsibility and to regard 
 my wishes, which is an argument in your favor and 
 against those anticipated ones of whom I know not, but 
 who, I am aware, will be blind to the one and disregard 
 the other. In conclusion, Cora is very young, but you 
 cannot catch her with chaff." 
 
 Mr. Hope desired to do right, not simply to make an 
 appearance of doing right ; for, as well as not, he might 
 have referred Cassel to Cora's kindred. But what Cassel 
 Rapid or any other young Rapid would have paid any 
 heed to the reference ? To have approached Cora's kin 
 dred on such a subject, at this time, would probably have 
 opened anew the controversy of which the absolute pos 
 session of herself was the instance and aim. It was not 
 likely that, at this period, either of the warring brothers 
 would give up the contested child to a stranger, or look 
 with much favor upon any who might seek, by carry 'ng 
 off the subject of dispute, to dissolve the feud. Before 
 Cassel could court Cora's father, the law must recognize 
 some one as being her father. And it was not, nor is it 
 now, the fashion to speak to the " old gentleman" until 
 all the arrangements have been perfected to do as well 
 without as with his consent. Nowadays, when a political 
 incumbent happens to oversleep himself in the morning, 
 the departments are instantly flooded with applications to 
 fill an anticipated vacancy Cassel did not wish to ap 
 pear quite so precipitate as that with Cora's family. He 
 thought it only due to Mr. Hope, in consideration of the 
 reciprocity between them, and in view of the old minis 
 ter's conscientious responsibility, that he should acquaint 
 him, and solicit his consent Mr. Hope was aware of 
 several things. Among them were, that early attachments 
 are generally the most tender and lasting, if not the best; 
 that Cassel would rarely ever find another Cora, and 
 Cora hardly ever find another Cassel ; that his refusal or 
 objection would only restrain the young man during 
 Cora's wardship, if so long, and that if Cassel had made 
 up his mind to have Cora, he would have her if he had 
 
 24
 
 2T8 TEKEL, 
 
 to seek her at the recently-discovered sources of the Nile, 
 granting that she would have him. In giving his con 
 sent, Mr. Hope did his best ; and few, if any, could have 
 done better than the old minister's best. 
 
 Cassel was almost satisfied. His sky was pretty clear, 
 but there was still a little cloud in sight. 
 
 What was the nature of Cora's preference for Carroll 
 May ? and was it very tender and very permanent ? 
 
 What was bringing Carroll so opportunely to the city 
 of New York ? 
 
 Was it Cora ? 
 
 Or was it the every-day necessity under which the 
 young man rested, of providing for that unromantic ex 
 igency a support ? 
 
 Exigency may be defined as a short, quick want. 
 
 Life is short. 
 
 Its wants are quick. 
 
 Much quicker than its supplies. 
 
 Quicker than lightning and more permanent. 
 
 The whole of Life is an exigency an emergency to 
 which few of us are equal. 
 
 There never has been and will never be, probably, a 
 temper better toned for happiness, enjoyment, and con 
 tent than the temper of Cassel Rapid. Normally, his 
 spirit was airy, free, and upward. To submerge it was 
 almost impossible. Like the cork upon the billow, it 
 \YOuld outride the wildest storms, and dance upon the 
 foaming rage of the churned seas. But he had passed 
 through a deathly experience, and, at times, felt its legacy 
 most heavily. Although he had slain Jonas Aiken, and 
 would, without ruth, slay every such demon within reach 
 of his arm, he suffered from no pang of remorse ; for 
 under the incentive which had actuated him, he would, if 
 need be, stand out against the whole world, and every 
 voted law therein. But often not too often he went 
 down into the very depths of sadness after the memory 
 of his lost sister. His father's fate had been swallowed 
 up by the fate of Diana his matchless, thrilling young 
 sister, having been regarded by him as the heritage a 
 common one of an adventurous life upon the verge of 
 civilization.
 
 OR CORA OLENCOE. 279 
 
 But Cassel was constituted to encounter a great deal, 
 and still be happy in the main. Unlike many who find 
 it impossible not to be wretched, he found it equally im 
 possible not to be habitually buoyant and joyful. Joy 
 was the native element of his breast. Sorrow was an 
 alien there, an invader, a tyrant ; and his nature revolted 
 against it, and cast it out, as the stomach rises up and ex 
 pels the nauseating emetic. 
 
 Cassel, though not vain, was nothing daunted when he 
 came to think of Carroll May. He judged that Cora might 
 have, in times past, preferred Carroll simply from looking 
 at him across the room of a country school and contrast 
 ing him with his fellows. But he was satisfied that their 
 souls were not entwined in that Gordian knot which no 
 skill can untie, and which it would be a sin to cut. Never 
 theless, when Carroll should come to New York, he would 
 seek him out ; and if he found him worthy of his lance, 
 and so disposed, they would buckle on their armor, each, 
 and tilt it out. The prize herself should be the umpress. 
 Cora should drop the hat, and decide the contest. 
 
 But notwithstanding Cassel's superiority over Carroll 
 in everything that lays its spell upon a maiden's heart, 
 if Carroll should decide to enter the lists, victory might 
 hover long before it perched. For although Cassel Rapid 
 might pillage Cora's heart of all its store of tenderness, 
 and wind her arms about his neck in an agony of love and 
 passion, Carroll May was already templed in her secret 
 compassion, and she might turn away from the finely- 
 carved Parian which stood securely on its plinth, to sup 
 port the coarser but tottering Granite from falling at her 
 feet, for compassion in the bosom of a noble-natured girl 
 is only less potent than love, and, if properly cared for, 
 may be turned to love. Between Cora and Cassel there 
 were no time-hallowed associations. She now knew him 
 for the first time. The only things in common with them 
 were the few acquaintances whom he remembered near 
 her old home, and the outlines of Creswood. But Cora 
 and Carroll held much common property between them. 
 They could go back and talk of their childhood, and of 
 their early youth when at school they secretly strove to 
 outstrip each other in their progress up the Hill of Science,
 
 280 TEKEL, 
 
 and of the innumerable things which hedged their path 
 way up that immemorial Hill. They could talk of the 
 neighborhood, the forest, the sea, the strand, the Tarpeian 
 Rock, and of everything which Creswood held that to 
 either of them was beautiful, strange, quaint, or cosy, 
 or had been. Carroll could throw out a skirmisher by tell 
 ing Cora how he and Johnny Gale used to love her, and 
 talk of her, and dream about her, when they were young 
 cubs and she was a fay. In addition and conclusion, Car? 
 rol was a sensible, handsome, engaging, resolute youth, 
 who could create a sensation in the breast of almost any 
 country girl whom he might endeavor to surround and 
 capture. 
 
 Hector 'Dare's head-quarters were in the city of New 
 York, where he kept a regular office. The day following 
 the receipt of Mr. Hope's letter, Cassel Rapid went to 
 O'Dare's office. The detective liked Cassel, regarding him, 
 as he said, " clear stuff and diamond grit." 
 
 " (rood-morning, Mr. Two-forty," said O'Dare, alluding 
 to Cassel's name of Rapid. 
 
 " Good-morning, Mr. Nose," retorted Cassel, alluding to 
 O'Dare's profession of nosing out things which were hid 
 den or astray. 
 
 " I capitulate," rejoined the detective, laughing. " Take 
 a seat and con over your sins." 
 
 "How's business?" asked Cassel. 
 
 " Oh, pretty brisk. I have on hand now, let's see," 
 and O'Dare turned to a ledger, " one lost child, one runa 
 way couple, two heavy swindlers, some big money, a four- 
 carat diamond, the bones of a dead man, and the tongue 
 of a live woman, or her skeleton, if dead. Also some old 
 cases, and some cases sub rosa." 
 
 " I have a case for you myself," said Cassel. 
 
 " What is it ?" asked O'Dare, with some interest ; for 
 he remembered Cassel's past peculiar application, and the 
 stern result of it. 
 
 "It is certainly a case sub rosa, for I do not wish to be 
 known in it, and it may be a case subsoil, for all that I 
 know about it," answered Cassel. 
 
 " I shall have to get me a platoon of grave-diggers, 
 and keep me a hungry hyena in leash," said O'Dare,
 
 OR CORA GLENCOE. 281 
 
 drolly. Then, opening his ledger, he requested, " Let's 
 have the particulars, Mr. Rapid." 
 
 "It is possible that I have been anticipated," said 
 Cassel, " for there are others more directly concerned 
 than myself." 
 
 " Give me an outline, or an odor, and I'll tell you in a 
 moment if I have been put upon the scent." 
 
 Cassel explained to O'Dare the nature of his applica 
 tion. 
 
 " You are the third man in search of that woman's 
 tongue, or, if she be dead, her skeleton," answered the 
 detective. "First, Neville Huron of Philadelphia; con 
 test for a daughter. Second, Carroll May of Creswood, 
 Maryland ; for family reasons. Third, Cassel Rapid ; 
 reasons best known to himself." 
 
 " In whose service are you then engaged ?" 
 
 " In Neville Huron's. He is wealthy and able to pay. 
 Young May might be able, but it would take all he has. 
 Furthermore, Mr. Huron's interest is prime, to my own 
 knowledge. What young May's interest is I am unable 
 to say. And what Cassel Rapid's interest is I do not care," 
 said the detective, suggestively, " unless he chooses to 
 tell me." 
 
 O'Dare's manner, in his last six words, conveyed the 
 most delicately-pointed hint imaginable. When he was 
 engaged upon any piece of business he endeavored to get 
 into his own hands all radial or convergent lines to or 
 from it. He would like to know Cassel Rapid's interest, 
 therefore. 
 
 " I don't take your hint at all," responded Cassel, 
 amusedly. " It is of no consequence whatever to either 
 you or the case, O'Dare, or I would not hesitate to state 
 my interest in full. To do so, however, would not assist 
 you or obstruct you a flea's leap." 
 
 " But a flea leaps pretty far sometimes, and always 
 jumps to the point," urged the detective. 
 
 " Never mind the flea," answered Cassel, who took up 
 his hat and bid O'Dare "good-morning." 
 
 Cassel went home, wondering if Carroll May was inter 
 esting himself in the Huron war as a young lawyer, or 
 in Cora Grlencoe as a young lover. If the latter, might 
 
 24*
 
 282 TEKEL, 
 
 it not mean more than Cassel would like to hear ? He 
 was getting to be somewhat anxious about Cora, and was 
 becoming conscious that this anxiety was the outgrowth 
 of something else which had taken root and was sprout 
 ing within. 
 
 Hector O'Dare, active man that he was, was again at 
 Creswood. He had so timed his visit as to meet Captain 
 Gale at Gale Island. He interviewed the captain, asked 
 him a round of questions about Maria Guthrie, and made 
 notes. 
 
 " What is her religion ?" continued O'Dare. 
 
 " Now, what in thunder do you want to know that 
 for ?" asked Captain Gale, who had already answered a 
 number of questions which he considered irrelevant. 
 
 " For a good and lawful reason," urged O'Dare. 
 
 " What is it ? I would like to know for curiosity's sake," 
 said Captain Gale. 
 
 " Very well. I'm to find Maria Guthrie, dead or alive." 
 
 "Yes." 
 
 " Suppose she is dead, and in heaven." 
 
 "You will never find her," laughed Captain Gale. 
 
 " Suppose, then, that she is dead, and not in heaven." 
 
 " You may, perhaps, reach her," again laughed the cap 
 tain. 
 
 " I will at least rattle at the gate and inquire for her," 
 said O'Dare, with a dare-devil look, which indicated that 
 he would almost as soon take a tussle with Pluto as not. 
 " But tell me, was she a Catholic, a Protestant, or a non- 
 professor ?" 
 
 " She was a Roman Catholic," answered Captain Gale. 
 
 "Now, you see," said the detective, "my whip has a 
 handle. That single answer is equal to a mouth's search." 
 
 " When do you commence your search ?" 
 
 " I'm commencing it now. But I have to go back fifteen 
 years and work it up to date. It may take a year to find 
 her two years even. I can't do it at once any more than 
 you can raise a stalk of tobacco at once. You have to 
 burn your bed, sow your seed, draw your plants, set them 
 out, wait for them to grow, keep the worms out, cut before 
 frost, and there you are." 
 
 Captain Gale now had an opportunity of making use of
 
 OR CORA OLENCOE. 283 
 
 a simile, which was one of a family of favorites with him, 
 and which he was delighted to know he had never used in 
 O'Dare's hearing. 
 
 "And," replied the captain, somewhat eagerly, and 
 making sure of the opportunity, " as tobacco often ends in 
 smoke, this search may end in smoke likewise." 
 
 " Just so, or ashes the ashes of the dead," answered 
 O'Dare. " But if she is alive, I'll smoke her out, if she is 
 buried, I'll find her head-stone in some Catholic cemetery." 
 
 " Are you a Roman Catholic ?" 
 
 " I am half Catholic, half Protestant, and half world 
 ling." 
 
 "You are one half too many," said the mariner. 
 
 " No I consider myself at least a man and a half. 
 Here is the way I count. There is a class of men which 
 I write down as 0, another class which I write up and 
 down as a stick, thus, |, from which I go into an ascend 
 ing scale of vulgar fractions, |, %, j?, ^, , %, ^, until I 
 arrive at the standard, which is the unit, 1, and makes a 
 very good man. I claim to be 1^, you are at least 1|, 
 young Rapid is 1^, and will make two, in time, Johnny, 
 your son, will make 1^, but not before he is twenty-eight 
 or thirty years old ; and so on, not to mention such men 
 as Webster, Calhoun, Clay, Jackson, and others, who 
 were, in their day, at least three figures anywhere from 
 100 to 999. Of all the men in the earth, Washington is 
 the only one who ever attained to the round 1000." 
 
 " You rank Washington, then, above the Roman Pon 
 tiff, you do not subscribe to the dogma of the Pope's in 
 fallibility." 
 
 " I consider all men fallible very fallible ; popes, pre 
 lates, preachers, potentates, presidents, politicians, peas 
 ants, peoples, Man, Adam." 
 
 " O'Dare, do you ever read the Bible?" 
 
 " I rarely read any other book. It is the philosopher's 
 stone which men have so long been searching for, but 
 which few have found. They turn away from its hoary, 
 moss-covered edges, to peck among agates, flint-blssoms, 
 and drift, expecting to find it there, or its effects, gold, 
 dross, and, like maggots working in corruption, spend 
 fruitless lives burrowing in the vomit of volcanoes."
 
 284 TEKEL) 
 
 " Very good," said Captain Gale. " I am glad to learn 
 that you are a philosophizer. Although some one has 
 said that we all philosophize, and that philosophize we 
 well or ill we must philosophize, yet you are a man, I take 
 it, who is accustomed nicely to balance one thing against 
 another, and to make all sides of a case fit." 
 
 "Just so," responded the detective. 
 
 "What think you, then, of the incident in Scripture 
 where Christ casts out devils from a man, and permits 
 them to enter into a valuable herd of swine, thereby 
 causing the herd to pitch into the sea and be choked." 
 
 " I think it was fun for the devils, but pretty rough on 
 the swine," answered O'Dare. 
 
 " Pshaw I" said Captain Gale, " I do not want any 
 ' negro minstrel' reply. How do you reconcile such appar 
 ently wanton destruction of animals and property to the 
 character of Christ?" 
 
 " In several ways. In the first place, it might have been 
 a very bad breed of hogs," said the practical O'Dare, at 
 whom Captain Gale could not forbear a laugh. " Sec 
 ondly, it was better for the devils to go into the swine 
 than to remain in the man who was a terror to the neigh 
 borhood, so that the situation was at least improved if 
 not perfected. Thirdly, swine's flesh was by no means a 
 favorite dish in Jewry, nor is it yet. Moses, by-the-by, 
 must have known of, or anticipated, Trichina. But seri 
 ously, and lastly, and wholly, it was as competent and 
 reconcilable for Christ, visible, to permit those malicious 
 devils to destroy a few swine probably as an illustration 
 as it is for God, invisible, to have permitted and still to 
 permit the Prince of Devils to roam abroad in the Earth, 
 wrenching, and distorting, and tormenting it with Wars, 
 Famines, Fires, Floods, Earthquakes, Pestilences, Pangs, 
 and Politics, and yet it is so, and God wills it, else his 
 will is not omnipotent. But do not clog and mystify 
 your mind in a vain eifort to comprehend and classify the 
 universe to reconcile or adapt human ideas to the facts 
 which *neet us at every step, or to fathom those facts. 
 Why, for instance, is one person born to a palace and 
 another to a plow ? Why is one normally healthy another 
 abnormally unhealthy ? one deformed, even hideous, and
 
 OR CORA GLENCOE. 285 
 
 unfitted for any enjoyment, another beautiful and full of 
 life and joy ? one naturally well-tempered and predisposed 
 to good, another ill-gotten and predisposed to evil ? You 
 may say that Eternity will compensate for all this, if we 
 only cast ourselves at the feet of Christ. But how is it 
 with that part of animate creation, which, when it dies, 
 will, according to the general belief, know no resurrection 
 the beasts, the birds, the fishes, the insects ? One trout is 
 hooked for dinner, while the next one escapes to live and 
 sport in its liquid home. Go out into the forest at your 
 feet is a dead bird, while above you, in the tree near by, 
 is another, of the same brood, merrily singing. Go among 
 the farmers one horse is bred a stallion, to be pampered, 
 and another is unsexed, to sweat at the plow. One young 
 chicken cock is garnished for dinner, and its ma,te is des 
 tined to be the Brigham Young of a dozen or more good 
 fat wives. In the far untrodden jungle, one royal lion is 
 captured and caged for the museum, and another continues 
 to roam, the king of his haunts. I have seen beasts as 
 wretched, and beasts as happy, as I have seen men and 
 women. Their accountability is nil, and yet, like us, they 
 have their vicissitudes as though under some elfin domin 
 ion. If, therefore, there is no future for them, what is 
 going to compensate the unfortunate among them for the 
 inequalities of this, their only life ? Back again to immor 
 tality. At what time does the spirit enter into human 
 flesh ? It may be when the babe first kicks in its mother's 
 womb. Granted that it be so, a still-born child is neces 
 sarily sinless, and its soul has a swift, untried passage to 
 heaven. Whereas, had the child lived, it might have 
 chosen the road to hell. If I could have my choice, I 
 would choose to have been born alive, but to have expired 
 upon my first breath, and while my little body was being 
 decked for the tomb, my soul to have been received into 
 the arms of angels, and borne, without stain, back to God 
 who gave it. But all these things are not only beyond 
 our comprehension, but beyond our control as well. We 
 are the abject creatures of an incomprehensible Power, 
 whose manifestations, gauged by the square and compass 
 of our philosophy, are by no means calculated to inspire 
 the faith that He is all Love, all Compassion, all Mercy,
 
 286 TEKEL, 
 
 and all Justice. For such attributes, combined with om 
 nipotent power, would, in our groveling opinions, have 
 avoided the necessity if such there be of sin, and sor 
 row, and mournings, and lamentations. But," said O'Dare, 
 breaking off, "we see where such investigations will lead 
 us or rather, we do not see. The Bible, in one sense, is 
 like the road from Creswood to Snow Hill ; it is the only 
 known route. Do not reject that Route for the reason 
 that it may, like the Snow Hill road, have numberless by 
 paths leading we know not where. However," concluded 
 O'Dare, laughing, " I am not an ordained minister, and 
 can do no better with you than to leave you in the hands 
 of Mr. Hope, or his son Garland, both of whom I take to 
 be very excellent men." 
 
 As O'Dare shook hands with Captain Gale and left him, 
 the latter marveled to himself thus : 
 
 " Who would have thought that this wiry, sharp-nosed, 
 busy detective, had ever put his mind to such things. But 
 it is so, each person imagines that he himself does the 
 most occult thinking of any, when the very next person 
 the most improbable person perhaps may suggest what 
 had never before occurred to the self-sufficient inquirer." 
 
 O'Dare left Creswood and went back to New York. He 
 felt more interest in the search for Maria Guthrie than in 
 all the other cases on his docket, for he had suffered his 
 feelings to become involved in the Huron war, attributable, 
 however, to his admiration of Cora Glencoe, and his love 
 of an intricate piece of business. Neville Huron had in 
 structed him to prosecute the search without regard to the 
 cost, and he was preparing to weave a web over the en 
 tire continent, which, when he should draw it in, would 
 have Maria Guthrie or her remnants wound up it it. 
 
 " O'Dare," asked Cassel Rapid, stepping into the detec 
 tive's office, " what is the news from Creswood ?" 
 
 " Nothing." 
 
 " No news of Mrs. Guthrie ?" 
 
 "None of your business, I'm not in your employ," 
 impudently responded the detective. 
 
 " See here, O'Dare, do you want me to loosen your 
 front teeth for you ?" 
 
 " You could not do that, with all your athletic train 
 ing."
 
 OR CORA GLENCOE. 287 
 
 " I might if I should try ; and you might have been in 
 my employ had you been disposed to act the rogue. But 
 to the point : I am Miss Huron's guardian, here in the city, 
 and would like to know if there is any probability of sup 
 plying the absent link in the chain which is to loose her 
 from one father and bind her to another." 
 
 " The link is as uncertain, and as unlocated, as the next 
 gold nugget is to the miner. At this moment I am in a 
 fog, and without chart or compass. I can tell you abso 
 lutely nothing, except," continued O'Dare, provokingly 
 and maliciously, " that Captain Gale still lives on oysters." 
 
 With a gesture combining impatience, good-fellowship, 
 and banter, Cassel passed out of O'Dare's office and 
 strolled at random through the city. 
 
 At leisure, he wandered away from the turmoil of busi 
 ness, far among the thronged, pleasant, and stately man 
 sions of the fortunate and wealthy, and gazed about him 
 with an eye, not of envy, but rather of indolence. While 
 thus recreating, he met a couple of fine, frolicsome-looking 
 young fellows, whom, at a glance, he recognized as being 
 from the country The two strangers were Carroll May 
 and Johnny Gale, but Cassel neither knew them, nor they 
 him. Carroll and Johnny seemed captivated with the 
 singular comeliness, genial countenance, and faultless 
 outfit of Cassel Rapid, and they regarded him so openly 
 and with such undisguised appreciation, that he, as he 
 passed them, bowed to them, and very pleasantly said, 
 
 " How are you, gentlemen ?" 
 
 They spoke freely in response, and, as he passed on, 
 stopped and looked at him, imagining, and with good 
 reason, that he was the very tip-top of the young " bloods" 
 of the city. After a few steps, Cassel, who was always 
 attracted by anything fresh, rustic, and unsophisticated, 
 turned about and discovered the two young fellows gazing 
 at him and smiling. With considerable humor in his face 
 and tone, he asked, 
 
 " Are you lost?" 
 
 The boys both laughed. 
 
 "Yes we are lost," acknowledged Johnny. 
 
 " I knew it," said Cassel, with a friendly smile. " What 
 part of the country are you from ?"
 
 288 TEKEL, 
 
 " Maryland." 
 
 " Maryland ? What portion of the State ?" 
 
 "From Creswood on the eastern shore." 
 
 "Lightning!" cried Cassel, all the fun of his nature 
 springing to his face. "Here's sport right here. Hold 
 up, now, I want to name you This is Johnny, and this 
 is Carroll." 
 
 The eyes of the boys widened with infinite wonder and 
 anticipation. Presently Johnny Gale shouted, 
 
 "It's Pony! it's Pony! God, but it's Pony Rapid!" And 
 he and Carroll pitched on to Cassel and almost devoured 
 him up. 
 
 A policeman approached and said, 
 
 " Gentlemen, you must preserve order, you are making 
 entirely too much fuss here." 
 
 "Polly," said Cassel, turning to the mercenary, "you 
 are so fresh, fertile, and green, that your club-stick is bud 
 ding. Go back to your Station and get instructions. By 
 to-morrow morning the trees on your beat will all have 
 leaves on them, winter as it is." 
 
 The policeman walked away somewhat abashed, and in 
 a state of mental perplexity regarding the true and practi 
 cal construction of his orders ; for that was his first day of 
 service, and he was under a strict, though false impression, 
 as to what constituted public peace. 
 
 Johnny and Carroll were almost wild with delight. 
 Cassel was equally glad to meet them, but being, in a 
 measure, blase on travel and surprises, he was not so 
 boisterous in his manifestations. 
 
 " Boys," asked he, " where are you bound ?" 
 
 " We were hunting for our hotel." 
 
 " You are altogether out of the line of hotels here," 
 said Cassel. "There is not a regular hotel within a mile 
 of this spot. But come, we'll take a car, and you'll dine 
 with me at a saloon." 
 
 Away they went, to a fashionable eating-house, and 
 Cassel took the liberty of ordering for three. 
 
 " What brought you up to the city ?" asked Cassel. 
 
 " 1 am going into somebody's law office," said Carroll. 
 
 "Johnny, what is your scheme?" 
 
 " Going into the exchequer of the Whiteeap," answered
 
 OR CORA OLENCOE. 289 
 
 Johnny, with a laugh so ticklish that Cassel and Carroll 
 were bound to keep him company. 
 
 " Johnny has a wild colt in him, I see," observed Cas 
 sel to Carroll, " and it will take a year or two to trot it 
 out. As he will need no assistance in his particular, 
 pleasant, and sonlike enterprise, I shall not offer him my 
 good services ; but you, Carroll, have you made an en 
 gagement?" 
 
 "Not a positive one. I have had some encouragement 
 by correspondence, but I've no idea whether I shall suc 
 ceed or fail in getting a position, such a one as will sup 
 port me. Johnny is studying civil engineering, and is 
 here in that interest. Uncle Gale advised me to come 
 here also, and to make or break at the law, and further 
 more," said Carroll, laughing, " to keep Johnny from break 
 ing his neck." 
 
 " Carroll," said Cassel, "do not make any permanent 
 arrangement for several days. I know of a good posi 
 tion which you can probably get, if it has not been filled. 
 It is with a first-class law firm. They are particular, and 
 have been trying for two weeks to get suited in an office 
 man. They want some one for several years, and are not 
 so nice as to what he may know in the beginning, but base 
 their preference on the ultimate promise of the applicant. 
 I think your face, fist, and tongue, with my recommenda 
 tion, will suit them." 
 
 " I am much obliged to you, Cassel, and will be glad to 
 advise with you. ' When can I see them ?" 
 
 " I will take you round to-morrow. Meantime I will 
 see them myself, this afternoon, after I have shown you 
 and Johnny to your hotel. Have you any idea where 
 you are ?" 
 
 " Not the most remote. I only know that we are in 
 New York." 
 
 " Come here to the front door. Now look across the 
 street. Do you recognize the building ?" 
 
 "Jupiter ! That is our hotel !" cried Johnny and Car 
 roll with one voice. 
 
 " Yes," said Cassel, " but you get a better dinner here 
 than you do there. Here the dishes are cooked separately ; 
 there they are all cooked together, where an oyster tastes 
 
 25
 
 290 TEKEL, 
 
 of pudding, and pudding tastes of hot salad, and salad 
 tastes of mince-meat, and it all tastes of steam, wilted 
 as it were." 
 
 After a hearty, jolly, and re-enforcing dinner, Cassel 
 went alone to the law office of Hallum & Gore. 
 
 " Good-afternoon, Mr. Rapid," said Mr. Gore, the only 
 partner present. " Have a seat, sir." 
 
 ' You are busy," suggested Cassel. 
 
 ' I can spare a few moments." 
 
 ' Have you secured an assistant?" 
 
 ' No." 
 
 ' Do not close with any one, then, until I bring a friend 
 of mine around to see you to-morrow. I think he will 
 suit you. He is a fine young man, well educated, and 
 gentlemanly. He has been a student of Maryland law, 
 but can soon fall into your ways. His father was a 
 better lawyer than either you or Mr. Hallum," said Cassel, 
 with good-humored but incisive honesty, "and from what 
 I have heard, and conjecture, the son will sustain his an 
 cestry." 
 
 " You are very candid," replied Mr. Gore, with a smile 
 half sardonic, half amused. 
 
 " On business, with business men, I'm as blunt as the 
 back of a wedge. I am not depreciating you or your firm, 
 but simply telling you the truth." 
 
 " The truth is quite refreshing," said Mr. Gore. " It is 
 not very often that we get a breath of it in these pre 
 cincts." 
 
 " I hope it won't make you sick," replied Cassel, gayly. 
 " If it does, just swallow a professional prevarication by 
 way of antidote or emetic." And Cassel went upon the 
 street.
 
 OR CORA GLENCOE. 291 
 
 CHAPTER XXVIII. 
 
 CASSEL RAPID, who knew the family history of Carroll 
 May, was generously disposed to assist the young man, 
 and secure to him a good fair start in the race of life. 
 Cassel's sympathy, wherever bestowed, was strong, active, 
 and practical, and did not end in words if deeds were ap 
 propriate. Carroll was now an object of special interest 
 with him, chiefly on account of his life-long orphanage and 
 dependence, subordinately on account of his life-long con 
 nection and disconnection with Cora Glencoe. 
 
 In Cassel's mind were several propositions. The first 
 was one of benevolence ; for in his youthful, limited sphere, 
 he was actuated by the same impulses of nobility and com 
 passion which hallow the name of George Peabody, whose 
 grand and solemn requiem has just been chanted by bound 
 less, oceanic, and celestial voices, and the appreciation of 
 whose gifted life bows down the famed heads of Europe 
 and America now weeping out his world-wide obsequies. 
 Cassel's benevolent purpose will explain itself when he 
 acts upon it, which will be done almost immediately. 
 Again, with regard to Cora it was Cassel's purpose to 
 deal frankly and liberally with Carroll. If Cora loved 
 Carroll which he could scarcely bring himself to imagine 
 except when he thought of the " family reasons" which 
 Hector O'Dare had stated as the basis of Carroll's interest 
 in the search for Marie Guthrie then the die was already 
 cast, and he would not attempt to upset it. For Cassel 
 wanted first love, and not that which had been, or by any 
 possibility might have been, kissed and whinnied over. 
 But if Cora was free, then Cassel would endeavor to win 
 her without wooing her, in compliance with the injunc 
 tions of Mr. Hope. Again: he would first establish Carroll 
 May in business and in the line of promotion, after which 
 he would seek an understanding with Carroll. His own 
 position as quasi guardian giving him a certain and great 
 advantage, should he see proper to use it, he felt that to be
 
 292 TEKEL, 
 
 wholly generous, and to put himself solely upon his indi 
 vidual merits, it would be right to encourage, if not to 
 urge, Carroll, if the young lawyer was in the least so dis 
 posed, to try his fortunes with Cora. He was sensible 
 that Carroll, who himself possessed some advantages, 
 might eventually succeed ; but he reflected that he, Cassel 
 Rapid, would never, if he knew or suspected it, become 
 the husband of any girl unless she preferred him above all 
 others, and unless she had enjoyed the opportunity of be 
 stowing herself in perfect harmony with the secret tender 
 desires of her own heart. 
 
 If all persons were as fastidious as Cassel Rapid was, 
 there would be few weddings in this world, for it is a 
 very rare thing, particularly rare with a woman, to get 
 the coveted one. Frail, weak, patient, lovely, and loving 
 woman is generally the chosen not the chooser. But 
 God wills it so else it would not be so. In this sinful 
 and sacrificial world, the weak must succumb to the 
 strong, virtue must lurk, while vice stalks through the 
 glorious and goodly places of the earth. Oh, for some 
 keen, invincible, and universal sword of Justice, to flash 
 throughout the broad round earth, and set all odds even ! 
 But we might as well invoke Christian charity from the 
 Devil. It is Death, and only Death, who may solve the 
 mystery of Life, and set all odds even. 
 
 In the morning Cassel took his two young friends to 
 the office of Hallum & Gore. Mr. Gore was the leader 
 of the firm, the oyer and terminer. Leaving Carroll 
 and Johnny with Mr. Hallum, Cassel and Mr. Gore re 
 tired to a consultation-room. 
 
 ' Mr. Gore," said Cassel, " I have confidence in my 
 young friend, and I have confidence in your firm, and I 
 am satisfied you will suit him, and he will suit you. If 
 he does suit you, what are you willing to pay him per 
 year, and what advantages do you promise him ?" 
 
 " I can answer you precisely. If he suits us, we will 
 engage him for three years. For the first year he will 
 receive as salary, five hundred dollars ; for the second 
 year, seven hundred dollars ; and for the third year, one 
 thousand dollars. At the end of that time, if he has the 
 talent you credit him with, ho will be a competent prac-
 
 OR CORA GLENCOE. 293 
 
 titioner, able to take good care of himself. It may then 
 be to our common interest to give him a junior partner 
 ship. If not, we will dismiss him with a moderate run 
 of business of his own, upon which he can build his 
 fortunes." 
 
 " The salary," said Cassel, " I consider rather low, for 
 he will be an active and efficient aid to you. The advan 
 tages you offer are liberal enough. I have no doubt but 
 that he will accept the position, and in view of it I have 
 a request to make of you. In addition to the salary 
 'which he will get from you, I wish to give him, on my 
 own account, for the first year, say four hundred dollars, 
 and if nothing prevents, to continue this addition through 
 the three years. But he must not know that I pay it 
 until I choose to tell him, and you must not exact any 
 thing from him on account of this extra salary." 
 
 "I understand you," replied Mr. Gore. "It will be 
 very easy to grant your request, for which I now give 
 you our promise. His salary will then be, for the three 
 years, nine, eleven, and fourteen hundred dollars." 
 
 "Yes." 
 
 "Just give me a brief article of writing, stating the 
 case, so that, should you hereafter find it not convenient 
 to continue this extra, he will not be in a position to de 
 mand it of Hallum & Gore." 
 
 Cassel gave the cautious lawyer the written safeguard 
 required, and Carroll May was then called in. Cassel 
 withdrew, leaving Mr. Gore free to examine the young 
 applicant. Fifteen minutes passed, when Carroll came 
 out smiling and successful. 
 
 " It is all right," said he softly to Cassel. " You are 
 so very kind, and I am grateful. They give me more 
 than I had any hope for." 
 
 " See, then, that you do your duty, both to them and 
 yourself," said Cassel, with smiling but impressive earn 
 estness, "for I am pledged for you, and I rarely ever 
 pledge for anybody." 
 
 " I promise to redeem your pledge to the uttermost," 
 said Carroll, in the full swing of that enthusiasm begotten 
 of opening success. 
 
 This matter arranged, Cassel was impatient to adjust 
 25*
 
 294 TKKEL, 
 
 something of more immediate importance to himself. 
 Wishing to see Carroll privately, and not knowing ex 
 actly how he might well get rid of Johnny, he, at a ven 
 ture, took the two young men to a museum. 
 
 Among the multiplicity of sights, Johnny and Carroll 
 became temporarily separated, and Cassel observing it, 
 took occasion to join Carroll May. He might have waited 
 until some other time, but what was the use of waiting ? 
 Without prevarication or meandering he would go straight 
 to the point, as was his habit. 
 
 " Carroll," asked he, " do you know that Cora Glencoe 
 is in the city?" 
 
 " Yes. Have you seen her ?" 
 
 " Seen her! I'm living in the same house with her." 
 
 " Indeed ! Then you are a fortunate young man." 
 
 " Would you like to be in my place ?" 
 
 " Yes, with your name, and face, and fortune." . 
 
 " Carroll, pardon me for abruptness, for I will be as 
 frank with you as I would have you be with me, but do 
 you love Cora ?" 
 
 "Yes no I don't know," answered Carroll, with a 
 sad mystification. He continued : " I might have loved 
 her, but, by a continual stamping out, I have kept down 
 what would have been simply wicked folly. You know 
 the reason why." 
 
 " But since her new history ?" 
 
 " Since that 1 have not seen her." 
 
 " Does she love you ?" asked the inquisitive Cassel. 
 
 " Me ! I do not know that she ever wasted a thought 
 upon me. But why this catechism ?" 
 
 " For several reasons. One of them is, I am, in a 
 measure, her guardian here in the city. Another, I do 
 not doubt that you were the most girl-winning young 
 fellow in Creswood while you and she were there. Don't 
 flash your eyes that way, for I am not making fun of you, 
 but am speaking in all sincerity. Another reason is, 
 Cora is the finest young girl within all my acquaintance, 
 and I thought that possibly you and she had formed an 
 attachment, if nothing more than a mute one, while being 
 reared as children in the same school and neighborhood." 
 
 " What might have been, may differ greatly from what
 
 OR CORA GLENCOE. 295 
 
 is. But do not talk to me about Cora Glencoe, because I 
 am strenuously trying to forget "her." 
 
 " Carroll, the subject is too enchanting to be dismissed 
 so summarily. I will be as frank with you as I have asked 
 you to be with me. As I said before, I am Cora's city 
 guardian. You are at liberty to win her if you can, pro 
 vided you do not interfere with her studies. I reserve to 
 myself the same privilege." 
 
 "You!" exclaimed Carroll, while he surveyed young 
 Rapid's almost matchless personnel. " In that case I could 
 hardly hope for success. You have every advantage of 
 me, authority, wealth, leisure, and an elegant comeliness 
 to which I do not even pretend." 
 
 " I know of no one whom I would fear so much as Car 
 roll May," answered Cassel. " But I glory in competition 
 where I know that it is honorable." 
 
 "I will not strive with you," protested Carroll, "for 
 should I by possibility succeed, there is a gloom which 
 would rest upon the joint lives of Cora and myself which 
 only the magic of an everlasting and never-waning honey 
 moon could effectually dispel, and the spoken and written 
 experience of the world teaches me that these matrimonial 
 moons are wholly given over to waning. When I first 
 learned of Cora's new prospective parentage, I thought of 
 her in connection with my humble self as released from a 
 bloody bondage, that I was free to seek her. I was partly 
 the cause of her coming to this city ; and therein I had a 
 motive or purpose, which, however, upon mature reflection, 
 ceases to exist, or sleeps ; and I have no present disposi 
 tion to wake it up. I yield the ground entirely to you, 
 and wish you joy of its possession. Under other circum 
 stances I might wrestle with you." 
 
 Cassel was both pleased and disappointed, pleased that 
 the way was open and unobstructed, and disappointed 
 that he should have no competitor ; not that he especially 
 thirsted for competition, or wished to triumph over any 
 adversary, but he experienced a f< eling of dissatisfaction 
 that any appreciative one, who had enjoyed good opportu 
 nities of judging of Cora's loveliness and sweet ways, and 
 had once been under her influence, could so calmly, and 
 conclusively, and in such a reasonable manner, make up
 
 296 TEKEL, 
 
 his mind to forego her altogether. Could he, Cassel Rapid, 
 make up his mind to such self-abnegation ? Could he rest 
 contented to forego the girl of his love under any circum 
 stances short of impossibility ? He thought not. Was 
 it, then, a lack of ardor in Carroll May ? or was it a defi 
 ciency in Cora, which caused the young man so tamely to 
 submit to the tenor of the times ? Was it an absence, to 
 all but himself, of that thrilling combination of trait 
 and person which makes men willing to go to the very 
 devil if their way only leads them through the coveted 
 portal ? A man who is not disposed to be jealous, is well 
 pleased to see a world of lovers worshiping at the feet of 
 the girl whom he loves and whom he expects to make his 
 own. It is not at all pleasant for him to think that, except 
 himself, nobody is alive to her charms. Such undisputed 
 monopoly would rob the luster, if not the intrinsic value, 
 from the gem which he calculates to set in his breast and 
 wear as a badge of wealth, and joy, and enviable success. 
 
 " Carroll," asked Cassel, " if you are not interested in 
 Cora, why did you propose emptying your pockets by en 
 countering the expenses of a search for Maria Guthrie ?" 
 
 " How do you know of that ?" 
 
 " Through O'Dare, the detective. I applied to him for 
 a like object, and he informed me that both you and Mr. 
 Neville Huron were in advance of me. Now I do not 
 hesitate to admit that I was prompted solely by my 
 interest in Cora. O'Dare told me that you were moved 
 to it by family reasons. Can I, without impropriety, in 
 quire what those family reasons are ?" 
 
 " I am simply making an effort to vindicate my father 
 and defend his memory." And Carroll went into an ex 
 planation of the cause which had induced him to engage 
 in the search for Maria Guthrie. 
 
 "Your explanation is adequate and creditable," said 
 Cassel. " But to return to our primary subject, I cannot 
 understand how any one with the ghost of a chance could 
 or would yield Cora to another without an effort." 
 
 " My chance," replied Carroll, with an expression of 
 countenance half pensive and half bitter, "is accompanied 
 by the ghost of my father, which might frown upon me 
 should I venture on the chance. However, my mind, in
 
 OR CORA OLE NCOS. 297 
 
 that particular regard, may be warped ; and others may 
 contemplate my position from a different stand-point from 
 that which to me it has heretofore most vividly appeared. 
 You yourself seem to do so. Cora, for all that I know, 
 may do the same. You half banter me, Cassel, kindling 
 both my hope and my pride. If, therefore, you will per 
 mit me to retract, I will do so, and the future, under dif 
 ferent urgings, shall determine the fates of Cora Glencoe, 
 Cassel Rapid, and Carroll May. I shall hold myself free 
 to outstrip you if fortune should favor me. Heretofore, 
 I had put my love into a coffin and screwed down the lid, 
 but the clods have not yet fallen on it. You have pro 
 voked it back to life and resistance. You have chal 
 lenged me, old fellow," continued Carroll, with a strange 
 gleam leaping from his eyes which Cassel did not alto 
 gether comprehend or like, " and I will endeavor to make 
 your fight an exciting one, and your conquest valuable 
 on account of its cost. But I warn you, that, when I 
 launch, I will, if possible, sail over Cassel Rapid, or any 
 other rapid, to get out into that sparkling champagne sea 
 of joy which will be coexistent with the possession of 
 this matchless little girl." 
 
 Cassel was again both pleasured and displeasured ; he 
 was gratified to know that Cora was properly estimated, 
 but there was an expression in the eyes of the youth whom 
 he had roused to antagonism which was not welcome to 
 him. However, he reached out his hand and said, 
 
 " Carroll, I give you my hand in pledge for a fair fight, 
 without the accompaniments of jealousy and bitterness. 
 Although your sudden resolution alarms me a little, it will 
 give zest to the game, and whichever wins will have the 
 satisfaction of knowing that the prize has been tested. 
 Also, it is very possible that neither of us may succeed ; 
 in the latter event we can at least sympathize with each 
 other while we suck our thumbs in defeat and despair." 
 
 " She is so well worth a battle," answered Carroll, 
 "that it would be a pity should no lance be shivered or 
 blade unhilted over her head. In one respect I have the 
 advantage of you, Cassel. You are hopeful, almost 
 domineeringly confident; I am neither. If you are de 
 feated, you will feel the galling edge of failure cut you
 
 298 TEKEL, 
 
 through and through. I enter with but little, hope ; if I 
 fail, I will be just where I began almost. I am in a 
 position to be cooler than you, for I have nothing to lose 
 and everything to win. What my emotional status will 
 be after the first encounter I cannot anticipate ; but since 
 you have spurred me to strive for Cora, I will assure you 
 that rather than not come in contact with her at all, and 
 hear her voice, and look into her eyes, and feast upon her 
 blushes, I am in a mood to choose the exquisite misery 
 of defeat, knowing as I do know that Cora will temper 
 my defeat with a world of compassion and solicitude, in 
 which all the loveliness of her nature will arm itself to 
 soothe me, and make my failure there sweeter than success 
 in any other quarter. It will be like dying upon some 
 unequaled and ambrosial draught." 
 
 " Carroll," said Cassel, with something of impatience, 
 "you know that you will not court any such distinction, 
 or extinction, as that; or, if you should, that you are one 
 among the last to bear it contentedly or derive pleasure 
 from it." 
 
 " Some men choose to die for their country, others to 
 die for mistaken honor, and yet others for such myths as 
 Fame and Glory ; but I would sooner sacrifice myself for 
 the girl that I love, than, by a different immolation, to 
 write my name upon the very keystone of Vanity's proudest 
 spanning arches." 
 
 " I fear that I have roused a Cid, who will do battle in 
 the very shroud and harness of the tomb ere he will relent 
 in his warfare," said Cassel, with a look of incredulity and 
 the faintest imaginable feeling and show of disdain. He 
 was of the opinion that Carroll was talking foolishly and 
 extravagantly, whether sincerely or not. In conclusion, 
 he remarked, " Carroll, I intended this interview to be 
 frank and simple. You have brought into it an element 
 which I do not like ; and we had as well rejoin Johnny, 
 who appears to be immersed in the mystical but obsolete 
 lore of those Egyptian mummies over there." 
 
 The interview had got to be distasteful to Cassel, who, 
 from beginning to end, had intended and endeavored that 
 it should be an open, knightly, and even boyishly frank, 
 free conference ; but before he had put an end to it, he saw
 
 OR CORA GLENCOE. 299 
 
 in Carroll's countenance and manner an expression and air 
 which he did not anticipate or like. For Carroll, though not 
 habitually on the qui vive for affronts, was very touchy, 
 and in many things morbidly sensitive ; and, out of pure 
 human perversity, altogether misconceived Cassel Rapid's 
 motives, writing them down in fashion as follows : " Now, 
 at this day, before me, Carroll May, a child of Poverty, a 
 vassel of Misfortune, and. the target of Circumstance, 
 comes Cassel Rapid, glorious in his youth and beauty, 
 and free by reason of his wealth, and deposes thus: 
 'Look at me, Carroll May. I am your benefactor; I will 
 continue to befriend you if you will consent to amuse me 
 and enable me to pass my time agreeably, and mark the 
 dull days with a triumph here and there, which, though it 
 trenches upon your sensibilities, will gratify my vanity 
 and yield me an occasional crown of ascendency. I have 
 already, for my own uses, made you respectable by securing 
 for you a respectable place. I have under my charge a 
 lovely country-girl, whom I can monopolize at will by 
 virtue of my position ; but to do so, securely and entirely, 
 will be far too tame and insipid. Therefore, come you, 
 my convenient friend Carroll, and give spice to my pie 
 and pungency to my champagne. It is foregone that you 
 shall not share with me the pie or tip the champagne ; 
 but you may have the wonderful, and for you the suffi 
 cient, pleasure of seeing me eat and drink when the ban 
 quet is served.' " 
 
 Carroll had no conception what bitter injustice he was 
 doing Cassel Rapid by harboring such graceless thoughts 
 as these. Cassel's motives had been as pure as the limpid 
 spring-water, and as generous and free as the sun's goodly 
 ray. Carroll May was probably the only youth upon the 
 face of the earth to whom Cassel would have felt disposed 
 to proffer the unreserved, delicate, and confidential good- 
 fellowship manifested in his open-hearted and opportune 
 dealing. Instead of endeavoring to entrap Carroll for the 
 purpose of twitting and deriding him, or crowing over him 
 afterward, he was just away from doing him a first-rate 
 favor and secretly enhancing it out of his own pocket. 
 Had he been conscious of what was rioting through Car 
 roll's mind, he would utterly have scorned him as an un-
 
 300 TEKEL, 
 
 gracious hound, unworthy even of a kick. But Carroll 
 was not absolutely, and without rebate, to blame: for in 
 stances of motive, pure, perfect, and unleavened, are so 
 very, very rare, that they pass us unrecognized, or unper- 
 ceived, like invisible angels silently gliding by. It was 
 well for the old amity existing between these two young 
 men, that Carroll May's bitter imaginings were as unde 
 tected by Cassel as his generosity and fairness were unap 
 preciated by Carroll. It is almost needless to state that 
 Carroll May would have writhed under insufferable shame 
 and remorse, had he been advised how well and truly 
 Cassel had acted toward him, and how egregiously and 
 ignobly he had suffered himself to misconstrue. From 
 this time forward, a breath of chillness seemed to hover 
 between them, bearing the least bit of frost. 
 
 CHAPTER XXIX. 
 
 WHEN Carroll May came to New York, he was by no 
 means determined to seek out Cora Glencoe, even for the 
 purpose of renewing old acquaintance. On the contrary, 
 he had almost made up his mind never again to look upon 
 her face if he could avoid it. He had generally considered 
 her as much beyond his endeavors as if she had been the 
 bride of another. But now that by others it did not 
 appear to be taken for granted that his father's blood would 
 cry out against him from the ground should he essay to 
 win her, he found no difficulty in convincing himself that 
 Cora's hand was not lineally stained by that father's gore, 
 and thereby forbidden to him. In view of her mooted parent 
 age he could strive, then, for her hand, without vexing the 
 ghost of his slaughtered father. Carroll was a spirited 
 and combative youth, and with his ideas of Cassel Rapid's 
 motives, together with the influence of a life-long penchant 
 for Cora, it is not surprising that he resolved to compete 
 with Cassel, with all the vim which awakens at the touch 
 of love, pride, ambition, rivalry, and active sensibility.
 
 OR CORA GLENCOE. 301 
 
 It had not been Cassel's intention to provoke a sharp 
 contest, but merely honorable and knightly emulation 
 but now that he dimly recognized a spirit of bitterness in 
 the contemplated rivalry of Carroll May, he girded himself 
 for firm, alert, and decisive battle. 
 
 Pretty soon a third champion appeared in the lists, and 
 the contest bid fair to be a triangular one, with the prob 
 ability of its angles increasing in number as the strife 
 progressed. 
 
 This third champion was no less a personage than Harry 
 Gray, the Claude Melnotte, as he was called, of New 
 York city. It happened in this wise that he became an 
 admirer of Cora. Harry Gray had been pleased with the 
 outward appearance of Linda Boyd, on a former occasion, 
 when she was taking her first Park drive with Cassel 
 Rapid, and had determined to make some investigations 
 regarding her. But he had postponed doing so from time 
 to time until now that Cora was established in the Boyd 
 mansion. Cassel had promised to introduce the young 
 gentleman to Linda whenever he should find it convenient 
 to call at the mansion. When, at length, he came, Cas&cl 
 and Cora were in the first parlor, into which Harry Gray 
 was ushered by the bell-servant. Cassel presented him 
 to Cora, and in a few moments slipped out to notify Linda 
 and tease her a little but Linda was absent. She and 
 Mrs. Lake were making some calls in the city. Cassel 
 left young Gray with Cora for the space of ten or fifteen 
 minutes. When he returned, Cora withdrew. She would 
 have withdrawn at first, but Cassel had left her so sit 
 uated that she could not well have escaped without an 
 appearance of panic or rudeness. 
 
 Young Gray was greatly attracted by Cora, and when 
 she went out he turned to Cassel and asked, 
 
 " See here, Rapid ; what tempting little Greek is this 
 whom you were kind enough to give me a glimpse of?" 
 
 " A young friend of mine, from Maryland ; Miss Huron." 
 
 " What ! Is she the one about whom the Huron brothers 
 are waging such a war ?" 
 
 "Yes." 
 
 " What is she doing here ?" 
 
 "Educating herself." 
 
 26
 
 302 TEKEL, 
 
 " In whose care is she ?" 
 
 "Mine." 
 
 " Yours !" exclaimed young Gray, with surprise. " You 
 are certainly offering me a joke." 
 
 " Not a bit." 
 
 " Who ever heard of such a thing ! Ha ! ha ! h-a 1" 
 
 "Why not?" 
 
 " Are her friends all crazy ?" 
 
 "No more than are you." 
 
 "The idea! Wh-e-w! Cassel Rapid to have charge 
 of two dainty little women, in a large city, and a thousand 
 miles from their mammas !" 
 
 " What's the difficulty ?" 
 
 " Why, Rapid, don't you know your reputation among 
 the petticoats?" 
 
 " No, please enlighten me." 
 
 " It is that you are a regular bohemian, a rake, a 
 blase sort of fellow with no appetite for anything except 
 the fresh and untried." 
 
 " The character-makers are disposed to flatter me," ob 
 served Cassel, with an indolent, careless smile. " I might 
 favor you with some current opinions in regard to your 
 self, if I thought it would have the smallest influence, in 
 reforming you. You are alternately wheedling at least a 
 half dozen of young ladies to my certain knowledge, 
 and " 
 
 " Halt, Rapid. Do not take this occasion to sum up 
 my sins against me ; but tell me, is Miss Huron fancy 
 free ?" 
 
 ' I presume so. Why ?" 
 
 ' Because I have already determined to seek an interest." 
 
 ' You had better not." 
 
 ' How so?" 
 
 ( You'll find it hard." 
 
 ' The way I like it." 
 
 ' Very well, I warn you." 
 
 'Oho 1 You warn me, do you ?" 
 
 ' Yes, Cassel Rapid warns you off." 
 
 'I understand." 
 
 ' No, you don't understand." 
 
 ' Is it not that you are a selfish fellow ?"
 
 OR CORA OLENCOE. 303 
 
 "No." 
 
 " Prove it," demanded Gray, laughing. 
 
 " Nothing easier," replied Cassel. " One word from me 
 would close these doors hermetically against you, and you 
 might try from now till doomsday and yet never succeed 
 in seeing either Mrs. Boyd or Miss Huron." 
 
 "What a Sultan he is!" 
 
 " To complete the proof, you have my permission," con 
 tinued Cassel, with provoking condescension, " to come 
 whenever you like." 
 
 " What a merciful prince !" 
 
 " But bear in mind that Miss Huron is but a school-girl, 
 and that you are not to interfere with the prosecution of 
 her studies. She cannot probably see you every time it 
 may suit your wayward fancy to drop in." 
 
 " How often may I call, you despot ?" 
 
 " Once a week, if it is agreeable to her." 
 
 " Who is to judge of the agreeability of my visits, you 
 or she ?" asked Gray, with a droll and significant look of 
 inquiry. 
 
 " I leave it between you. You will not be apt to mis 
 take any manifestation on her part." 
 
 "And Mrs. Boyd, are you her Cerberus also?" 
 
 " She is her own mistress, and you will excuse me from 
 striking a bargain which might not meet her approval. 
 See her yourself." 
 
 " What is Miss Huron's name?" 
 
 " Cora Glencoe." 
 
 " God ! but I love her already. Rapid, are you going 
 in there ?" 
 
 " It's none of your business, Mr. Inquisitive. But you 
 need not fear a dull time, you will have plenty of opposi 
 tion." 
 
 " If I had you out of the way, I would like the pros 
 pect better; for the battle is almost entirely within your 
 discretion. If you should enviously observe me getting 
 along nicely, you'll take it into your head to lock me out. 
 Nevertheless, I'll try and get acquainted with her, and 
 take the chance of your being struck by lightning." 
 
 Meantime, Linda returned, and Gray had the pleasure 
 of seeing her. Linda rarely ever spent a more agreeable
 
 304 TEKEL, 
 
 little while in her life than the half hour which Harry 
 Gray devoted to her. When the young gentleman left the 
 house with permission to come again and at will, he said 
 to himself, 
 
 " Cassel Rapid is in clover up to his chin. I would 
 give a fine pair of trotters to beat him. There's Mrs. Boyd, 
 a sugar plum, a ripe, blushing peach, a regular little 
 honey-bee. How I would like to kiss her, and have it 
 accompanied by the faintest possible response from her 
 own lips. But Miss Huron is a sweet, young dovey, a 
 gazelle, with an eagle, or a young lion, to watch over 
 her, and devour her up, perhaps. Oh, you rascal of a 
 Rapid ! Why are you such an unmitigated, fortunate fel 
 low, as to come ever and anon between me and my fancy ?" 
 
 A few evenings later, Carroll May and Johnny Gale 
 called to see Cora. She received them as old friends, and 
 entertained them balmily and with pleasure. They in 
 quired for Mrs. Boyd, the young mistress of the mansion, 
 in order to pay their respects to her. Linda soon came in, 
 " beautiful as a butterfly," and ready to welcome the young 
 gentlemen as Cora's friends. Carroll May paired off with 
 Cora, and Johnny with Linda, and, apparently, a very 
 pleasant evening ensued. 
 
 When the young gentlemen bowed themselves out, 
 Linda said to Cora, 
 
 " Your friend Mr. Gale is such a fine, handsome, hearty 
 fellow, so good humored and full of fun." 
 
 " I hardly knew him," replied Cora. " He has improved 
 so very much since I last saw him down at Creswood. 
 But what do you think of Mr. May ?" 
 
 " He did not give me an opportunity of forming an 
 opinion, being so entirely devoted to you." 
 
 Cora blushed, and Linda laughed at her, bantered her, 
 and kissed her an affectionate good-night. 
 
 But we must follow the two young men. 
 
 " Carroll," said Johnny, as soon as they had cleared the 
 front steps of the mansion, " Mrs. Boyd fills my eye ex 
 actly." 
 
 " She will fill your pocket if you can persuade her to 
 become Mrs. Gale," said Carroll, with a sort of lack-inter 
 est reply.
 
 OR CORA GLENCOE. 305 
 
 " What do you think of her, Carroll ?" asked Johnny, 
 who evidently felt more concern in the subject than did his 
 companion. 
 
 " Well," answered Carroll, rather abstractedly, " I saw 
 at a glance that she is very pretty, and upon that I pre 
 sume she is very fascinating, is she not ?" 
 
 " Yes, she's as sweet as a cherry-pie, and as new as 
 the first rose or the first strawberry in the Spring. She 
 stirred up lots of mixed poetry in me, but it's been so long 
 since I have anchored th*at close to a hoop-skirt that I 
 hardly knew what to say or how to feel. I succeeded, 
 however, in feeling first-rate myself, and she seemed to be 
 mathematically pleased with my dialectics, notwithstand 
 ing she would laugh at me and call me droll. I am going 
 to see her again, by Juggernaut. Carroll, it's regular hill 
 top. But how did you and Cora make it ?" 
 
 " Oh, very well. She was particularly kind, and coy, 
 and tender, as an old friend." 
 
 " Carroll," asked Johnny, while a street lamp lighted 
 up the mischief in his cheerful, almost heedless, face, 
 "you are rather staggering that way, are you not, old 
 fellow?" 
 
 ' Can't tell yet," answered Carroll. 
 
 ' Mrs. Boyd is so dainty, isn't she ?" 
 
 'As dainty as a young princess, I suppose." 
 
 'And she is friendly, and comes so near to a fellow." 
 
 ' Yes." 
 
 'Then she is a virgin, although a widow. Did you 
 know that?" 
 
 " I reckon," replied Carroll, far away with his own 
 thoughts. 
 
 " What's the matter, Carroll?" demanded Johnny. "Are 
 you asleep ? Wake up, and let's have a little hot supper 
 at the Dolphin, I'll stand treat ?" 
 
 " I'm not hungry, Johnny." 
 
 " Then go home, you squeamish fellow, and I'll go eat 
 by myself. You must have met with a cross to-night." 
 
 Carroll and Johnny occupied, jointly, a furnished room, 
 and took their meals at a restaurant. Carroll went alone, 
 to his lodging, leaving Johnny to satisfy his appetite. 
 
 26*
 
 306 TEKEL, 
 
 Thoughts of women or girls had never yet dried up 
 Johnny's gastric juice, or interfered with his enjoyment of 
 a good meal. 
 
 Carroll May was now painfully in love with Cora, and 
 his interview, just ended, left him apprehensive that he had 
 suffered himself to take, and insist upon, a very imprudent 
 and damaging course. He had exerted himself to probe 
 into her heart, without alarming her, but after an assidu 
 ous hour spent in that behalf, he found himself rather 
 worse than better off. He had hot conceived that she was 
 so far his superior in emotional and single-handed finesse. 
 She baffled him at every point. Not that she strove with 
 him, but because she would not strive with him. In the 
 conduct of a successful quarrel, two persons must lend a 
 hand, or a tongue ; for if one declines to engage, the other 
 will find it a tedious and very unsatisfactory job to keep 
 the quarrel alive. Cora would not take part in a lover's 
 tourney between herself and Carroll. A soft answer 
 turneth away wrath ; it is a shield from which wrath 
 glances off; an oil which negatives poison ; a water which 
 stays and quenches fire ; a smiling antagonist ; a peace 
 making alien, which comes in between wrath and wrath 
 and disarms aggression. It was thus that Cora disarmed 
 Carroll ; for when he slyly trenched upon her maiden 
 skirts, and delicately challenged an interchange of confi 
 dence and of feeling, she responded in words and manner 
 as foreign to the discussion which he was endeavoring to 
 initiate, as a kind and gentle word would be foreign to a 
 quarrel. She balked him with such easy and apparently 
 aimless tact, that he was at a loss to discover whether she 
 was altogether blind to his advances, or a most cunning 
 young diplomatist. Just so had Cora's brother Graham 
 been handled and beaten by her, when, as her cousin, he 
 was making or trying to make love to her down at Cres- 
 wood. And as Graham had been bewitched by her, so 
 now was Carroll May bewitched and bewildered. When 
 he conversed upon familiar and general topics, Cora not 
 only went with him freely but often took the lead. But 
 when he would shift into the untrodden way in which he 
 would fain go, Cora would at once become an impracti 
 cable dunce or a deft little refugee, and he could advance
 
 OR CORA GLENCOE. 307 
 
 neither her nor himself the space of an inch. The two par 
 ticular subjects on which Carroll tried to commit and con 
 vict her, were the state of her heart toward the male 
 world en masse and toward Cassel Rapid individually, 
 and whether her changed status and prospective condition 
 in the world, did, in her estimation, set Cora Glencoe and 
 Carroll May free to love one another, should they feel so 
 disposed. But Cora would not exchange with him those 
 little heart-coins which pass so currently between incipient 
 lovers, for he had started radically wrong with her, alarm 
 ing her at the very outset, and causing her to lock up the 
 treasures of her bosom, and hold fast to the key. He was 
 not unaware of his failure, or of the consequences it might 
 entail, and he already felt that the coolness and non 
 chalance of which he had boasted to Cassel Rapid, had 
 entirely deserted him. 
 
 " I have made a fool of myself," said he, mentally con 
 demning his management, " and, to make it yet worse, she 
 knows it. Why was I so inordinately covetous and impa 
 tient? Why couldn't I let 'Cassel Rapid' and 'Carroll 
 May' escape from the conversation, and permit her to talk 
 upon subjects which did not drag so heavily ? No 1 like a 
 dolt I must go and make war upon her instantly, and now 
 I have got myself hobbled and hindered and beaten. But 
 when I see her again I shall rectify all this, and then take 
 a diiferent course." 
 
 Thereupon Carroll made very many sensible resolutions. 
 But the question is, Will he, or will he not, act upon them ? 
 Will he have the patience ? As a young lawyer, Carroll 
 was patient enough, and professionally shrewd withal 
 but Blackstone on legal essence, and Cupid on a rampage, 
 are two very different masters. 
 
 One evening when the Boyd colony was collected in the 
 parlors of the mansion, and a general and spirited inter~ 
 mingling was in progress, Harry Gray, in his habitual fine 
 humor, made his appearance, and, after running the 
 sprightly gantlet of the colony, and devoting a few par 
 ticular moments to Linda, captured Cora, and led her away 
 to the piano. 
 
 " Now, Miss Cora, the favor which you have promised 
 me is no longer unavoidably delayed."
 
 308 TEKEL, 
 
 Cora sang for him. In memory of Creswood and of 
 Larboard Strand, and her own feelings being in harmony 
 with the thrilling sentiment of the song, she chose 
 " Shells of Ocean." 
 
 " And thus it is in every stage, 
 
 By toys our fancy is beguiled ; 
 We gather shells from youth to age, 
 And then we leave them like a child." 
 
 " I always liked that simple, pensive song," said Gray, 
 " and I have never heard it rendered more sweetly or 
 touchingly." Cora blushed with pleasure, and Harry con 
 tinued, " But it makes me feel too sad, and I do not wish 
 to feel sad to-night, for I came here to be joyful. Please, 
 then, play me a sweet confusion of operatic music, to drive 
 out the melancholy effect of this song of the Sea Shell." 
 And Harry Gray, venturing, stooped over and whispered 
 something into Cora's ear. She answered him nothing, 
 but, arranging her music, wheeled about on the piano- 
 stool and called, 
 
 " Mr. Rapid ?" 
 
 Cassel came over and awaited whatever request Cora 
 should make of him. 
 
 " I wish," said she, " you would please turn the pages 
 for me. Mr. Gray has asked for opera music, and as he is 
 known to be a competent critic, I desire to secure every 
 advantage for my first effort within range of his ear." 
 
 " Why didn't you permit me to turn the pages for you ?" 
 asked Harry Gray, who was discreet enough to recognize 
 the effect of his late fond whispering. 
 
 " Because I prefer to leave you free to close your auricu- 
 lars when you hear a grating discord." 
 
 " Very well," responded Harry, humorously putting up 
 his hands to be ready for stopping his ears, " I'm in posi 
 tion." 
 
 The piece was slow and rich, but difficult of thorough 
 development, and Gray, with a good deal of interest, 
 watched Cora's fingers, as, with tremulous firmness, they 
 pressed the keys, and wooed from the willing instrument 
 its sweetest and most thrilling chords. 
 
 " That is perfectly delightful," said Gray, " and has re-
 
 OR CORA QLENCOE. 309 
 
 called my more sprightly humor, so that I can enjoy 
 another sentimental song if you will consent to alternate 
 the pleasure which you are dispensing." 
 
 " Before I proceed further," answered Cora, " I wish to 
 get something off my mind." 
 
 " Cast your burdens upon me," gayly volunteered Harry 
 Gray. 
 
 " With all my heart," said Cora, who, with a business 
 like air, reached for a book which lay upon one end of the 
 piano. " I brought this book here for the purpose of ask 
 ing an explanation from Mr. Rapid, but you, probably, 
 will give me the explanation just as well." Cora turned 
 to a particular page, and handed Gray the book. " You 
 will find on page 71, near the top, a Greek quotation. It 
 is the key to the entire of pages 71 and 72. I am not 
 able to translate the quotation, and cannot understand 
 what immediately follows, until I am possessed of the 
 significance of those Greek words. I beg pardon for in 
 troducing the subject at such a time as this, but it often 
 worries me no little to have a difficulty hanging over." 
 
 Gray, who had by this time discovered that he had 
 overcropped himself, very reluctantly took hold of the 
 book, and then glancing suspiciously at Cassel Rapid, 
 inquired, 
 
 " Rapid, do you read Greek ?" 
 
 "No," answered Cassel, without the slightest hesita 
 tion, but scarcely able to suppress a smile. As Gray's 
 countenance cleared up of its shadow of perplexity, Cora 
 turned with some surprise to Cassel, and was about to 
 spring his trap-trigger. Gray was looking Cassel straight 
 in the face, and the latter had no opportunity of making 
 Cora a signal. Anxious not to have his trap sprung, 
 Cassel dared to put out his foot and press the toe of 
 Cora's slipper. She retreated in haste and panic, and ex 
 pectantly waited for Gray to " unmuzzle his wisdom." 
 Cocking his eye and looking into the book like a "mag 
 pie into a marrow-bone," Harry Gray translated the 
 Greek, and Cassel Rapid, who had got a glimpse of it, 
 immediately roared with laughter. Gray looked at Cassel 
 as though it would be the acme of pleasure to seize him 
 and choke him to death, and Cassel continaed to laugh in
 
 310 TEKEL, 
 
 that hearty, joyous, honest fashion which made his merri 
 ment either so very pleasant or so very provoking. 
 
 "What amuses you so, Mr. Rapid?" playfully asked 
 Cora, who felt very much disposed to laugh herself. 
 
 " Let me see the book," said Cassel, still boiling over 
 with appreciation of Gray's Greek lore. 
 
 Harry resigned the book much more reluctantly than 
 he had at first accepted it, and when Cora was turned 
 away and he could catch Cassel 's eye, he went through 
 with a most intense and vivid pantomime, to the exceeding 
 amusement and inward delight of young Rapid. 
 
 " Mr. Gray," said Cora, finally turning to him, " I do 
 not perceive what connection the quotation can possibly 
 have with the text. Did you observe what immediately 
 follows it ?" 
 
 " I merely glanced at the quotation," answered Gray, 
 feeling very miserable, and mentally cursing himself. 
 "Why the devil didn't I read the connection ?" asked he 
 of himself. " I might have gathered an inkling of the 
 significance of that confounded quotation. She will not 
 only write me down an Ass, but a deceitful Ass." He 
 then looked imploringly over to Cassel Rapid, who still 
 continued, at intervals, to laugh with aggravating gusto. 
 Cassel, with a warning shake of his head at Cora, laid 
 the book aside. Harry Gray, beginning to feel a little 
 safer, picked it up and said, 
 
 " I observe, Miss Cora, that this is a work on Antiqui 
 ties. Under whose gray-haired supervision are you pro 
 secuting this particular study ?" 
 
 "Mr. Rapid has lent me his collection of works on 
 Antiquity, and volunteers to enlighten me when I am 
 mystified, as I was and am yet, by this Greek quota 
 tion." 
 
 " Mr. Rapid /" exclaimed Gray with assumed sarcastic, 
 and genuine retaliatory amazement. " Mr. Rapid an an 
 tiquarian, a Methuselah, ha! ha! h-a! a compeer of 
 Pickwick, an admirer of hieroglyphics, Egyptian obe 
 lisks, and American mile-stones. Be cautioned by me, 
 Miss Cora, and confine him to the Ancients. Don't let 
 him descend to the Moderns with you, especially to the 
 current generation."
 
 OR CORA GLENCOE. 3U 
 
 " Why ?" asked Cora, preparing to act the impracticable 
 dunce, as she had done with Carroll May. 
 
 " Because he is a gay bohernian." 
 
 " I thought he was a Marylander," answered Cora, with 
 the most innocent look in the world. " However, I think 
 the study of the current year as interesting as that of any 
 preceding one, be it ever so remote. Look at the state of 
 Europe, for instance, hanging, as is supposed, on a verge. 
 Even Bohemia may be turned topsy-turvy. Then, in 
 America, the weather-vane points to the stormy quarter." 
 
 "She eludes me," said Gray to himself. Then aloud, 
 " If you really wish an interesting modern story or subject, 
 just investigate my young friend Rapid there. I think 
 you will find in him a medley of misdemeanors." 
 
 " So trite a medley can readily be found elsewhere with 
 out the trouble of investigation," answered Cora. 
 
 " But try and ascertain, and tell me," said Gray, who 
 did not regard Cora's last remark as particularly flattering 
 to himself, for he might well answer for the " elsewhere," 
 " why it is that he is so winning with the girls." 
 
 " Probably because he behaves himself." 
 
 " By no means. For he exactly does not behave himself." 
 
 " His misdemeanors must then be very fascinating ones." 
 
 " They must be indeed," answered Gray, ' for at this 
 moment he has a dozen or more unhappy girls in love with 
 him." 
 
 " Indeed ! How many can you boast ?" 
 
 "Not one." 
 
 "Oh, how you would like to change places with him !" 
 cried Cora, with sprightly, even teasing contravention, 
 while Gray muttered to himself, " Caught again, by Jove !" 
 
 "But don't you think it very wrong," asked Gray, "for 
 a young gentleman to have so many sweethearts?" 
 
 " Yery wrong indeed, in the sweethearts," answered 
 Cora. 
 
 "And in him also; for he can only love but one." 
 
 " Only one at a time, you mean." 
 
 "And he can marry but one." 
 
 "And thereby generously suffer the others to escape the 
 misery of that one," suggested Cora, with a bright, sly 
 glance at Cassel, who answered her with a smile. Cassel
 
 312 TEKEL, 
 
 was wondering what Gray was going to make out of this 
 somewhat episodic conversation. He was already half 
 convinced that it would end in nothing, and Gray was 
 himself apprehensive that he would, in the end, reach nihil. 
 
 "But what do you think of a youth," asked he, " who 
 always has a dozen or more strings to his bow ?" 
 
 " I think that he is quite safe," answered Cora, merrily, 
 "pretty well supplied with bow-thongs." 
 
 " Yes, but to go and get a dozen girls in love with him 
 when he knows that he can't parcel himself out to them !" 
 
 " He must be a very captivating person to do that, or 
 the girls must be very silly." 
 
 "But please be serious now," urged Gray, "and tell me 
 what you think of such a naughty fellow ?" 
 
 'To be serious, then," replied Cora, with the slightest 
 perceptible elevation of her brow, " I think absolutely 
 nothing about it." 
 
 Cassel broke out with a triumphant carol, which irritated 
 Gray, and caused him to color with vexation, while Cora 
 sat demurely looking on. Gray had essayed to tease Cas 
 sel, and possibly ascertain how Cora was affected toward 
 her gallant young guardian. But he failed to excite any 
 show of jealousy or concern on her part, and ended in 
 teasing himself. He got himself over on legitimate ground 
 as soon as possible, and by a run of sensible, pleasing talk, 
 endeavored to make Cora forget the poverty and weakness 
 of his ill-contrived foray upon herself and Cassel. 
 
 Cora had been very well pleased with Harry Gray. He 
 was excellent company, his manners were spontaneously 
 good, he had a look of native, unfailing amity and gener 
 osity about him, and very rarely, if ever, appeared self- 
 absorbed. He was frequently careless, and laid himself 
 open to raillery and attack, but by his very looseness he 
 frequently delighted his acquaintances by giving them 
 gratifying opportunities of pouncing upon him. His po 
 sition was often like that of a fun-loving school-boy, set 
 upon by a bevy of snowballing maidens, each of whom 
 being half in love with the victim, takes good care not to 
 pelt him too hard. The most vicious of Harry Gray's 
 favorite female acquaintances would not have punished 
 him more severely than to slip a little snow down his back,
 
 OR CORA GLEN GO E. 313 
 
 or to start a spear of tickle-grass up his breeches leg. There 
 were at least a half dozen girls whom he kissed as reg 
 ularly as he found a chance, and each girl knew that the 
 others permitted it. There was nothing in life, so unsub 
 stantial, which Harry liked better than to kiss a pretty, 
 half-unwilling, girl. As a kind of feeler, he one day ob 
 served to Cassel Rapid "that he would give a bushel of 
 shelled oats to kiss Linda Boyd," he did not dare to say 
 " CoraGrlencoe." Cassel very significantly replied, "Uncle 
 Jesse stands no nonsense." Harry was shrewd enough to 
 interpret " Uncle Jesse" as meaning "brother Cassel." So 
 he did not get to kiss Linda, poor Harry ! 
 
 CHAPTER XXX. 
 
 JOHNNY GALE had taken a Juggernaut oath that he 
 would repeat his visit to the Boyd mansion, and as he 
 found the obligation more binding than burdensome, he 
 did not outrage the sanctity of the Hindoo deity by for 
 feiting his oath. He went frequently to see Linda, and at 
 length found himself just six feet all that he measured 
 in love with her. 
 
 One day, after Johnny had done himself the pleasure 
 of seeing Linda, he called upon Cassel Rapid, greeting 
 him with hearty honesty, while his almost boyish face was 
 covered with good humor mixed with apprehension. 
 
 " Come in, Hercules," responded Cassel, " and take a 
 seat." 
 
 " Cassel," asked Johnny, half bashfully, " when a man 
 wishes to reach a certain point, had he not better go 
 straight to it, instead of moving upon it by detours ?" 
 
 " That depends upon the topography of the ground or 
 country which lies between you and your objective point," 
 replied Cassel, thinking that Johnny's question was related 
 to his pursuit of civil engineering. 
 
 " Say that a fellow is on a dead level," said Johnny, 
 reducing his question to the simplest form. 
 
 2?
 
 314 TEKEL, 
 
 " Then I would recommend him to take a bee-line and 
 run for it," answered Cassel, who began to doubt that 
 Johnny's inquiry was in pursuance of civil science ; for 
 Johnny's face and nerves were beginning to tell on him. 
 
 " Well, Cassel, on your recommendation I am going 
 straight to the center at a single clip. I'm in love with 
 Linda Boyd." 
 
 Cassel turned his eyes upon Johnny, who was looking 
 comically lugubrious. Cassel regarded him for a moment, 
 and then gave out a long whistle. Johnny wilted, and, in 
 his confusion, retired almost into his boots. Cassel laughed 
 at him, and Johnny, as if it was the funniest thing in the 
 world, this thing of loving Linda Boyd, accompanied 
 Cassel with his most ticklish giggle, while he blushed all 
 over, and vented about a pint of perspiration. 
 
 " Have you cut your wisdom teeth ?" asked Cassel. 
 
 Johnny only looked at him. 
 
 "When did you commence this loving business ?" 
 
 " I hardly know," replied Johnny ; " but I know that 
 it's under full headway now." 
 
 " How do you know it ?" asked Cassel, with considera 
 ble inward amusement. 
 
 " How!" cried Johnny. " Why, by Juggernaut, I feel 
 it feel it all over /" 
 
 "It must be so then," observed Cassel, while he re 
 garded Johnny with a half-serious, half-mischievous eye. 
 "But does she love you?" 
 
 " Not that I know of. I can't complain of her way. 
 She seems to like my company. I do my best, you know, 
 old fellow, when I'm with her, and, God bless her, if you 
 will only sanction it, I believe I can get her to come 
 aboard with me. What do you say, Cassel ?" And Johnny 
 moved toward his arbiter as if about to devour him with 
 anxiety. 
 
 " Did she refer you to me ?" 
 
 " No ; I wish she had. I haven't asked her." 
 
 " Then why do you come to me ?" 
 
 " Because you are the Sweet William of this mansion, 
 and you can tell me to mosey in, or mosey out, just as it 
 may suit your fancy." 
 
 " Do you talk that kind of slang to Linda ?"
 
 OR CORA GLENCOE. 315 
 
 1 No." 
 
 ' What book is that in your breast pocket ?" 
 
 ' It is a work I am studying." 
 
 ' But what is it ?" 
 
 ' A Miscellany," replied Johnny, growing uneasy. 
 
 'Let me see it." 
 
 'You are changing the subject on me," objected the 
 adroit Johnny. 
 
 " No ; I imagine that the book is in some way connected 
 with the subject. You can let me see it at all events." 
 
 " Oh, you can see the book, if that's what you want," 
 said Johnny, who, while passing it over to Cassel, endeav 
 ored to assume an innocent and careless air which was 
 very poorly sustained by his feelings. Cassel glanced at 
 the title of Johnny's "Miscellany," and then deliberately 
 leveling his clear, mild, but incisive eyes upon the now 
 sheepish-looking youth, said, with something of a smile, 
 
 "I thought so." 
 
 He then turned to the book and read aloud, "Dictionary 
 of Poetical Quotations." 
 
 "Johnny," continued Cassel, with an amused but ad 
 monitory expression on his handsome face, " don't get to 
 running about after the girls with your shirt-tail full of 
 violets and morning-glories." 
 
 Johnny felt very silly, and looked just as he felt. Cas 
 sel discovered here and there in the book, numbers of lines 
 which Johnny had pencil-marked. He read them off to 
 an imaginary fair auditor, in a tone which would have 
 aggravated a saint. He then tossed the book into the 
 glowing grate. 
 
 " See here !" asserted Johnny with an awakened, reso 
 lute protest in his face and voice ; "you are carrying your 
 authority a- little far." 
 
 " You are altogether mistaken," said Cassel, smilingly. 
 
 "No, sir, I am not mistaken," replied Johnny, firmly. 
 
 "Hercules, don't get angry now, and split the earth 
 wide open. I am doing you a service. I have heard 
 Linda say, more than once, that she did not relish this 
 lackadaisy, rhythmic hash, that she almost despised it. 
 She will like you the better, Johnny, with the ' Miscel 
 lany' in the grate."
 
 31 fi TEKEL, 
 
 11 Cassel !" cried Johnny, his anger instantly flashing 
 away, " you are a trump to tell me of it. Damn the book ! 
 let it go to where the fires are made of brimstone, for 
 all I care. And now if you will only say, ' Spread your 
 sails, I'll give you a puff,' you will prove yourself the 
 glorious good fellow I have always esteemed you." 
 
 "Quite an inducement," replied Cassel; "but I'm get 
 ting more of this sort of business on my hands than I 
 care to manage." 
 
 " Then grant my petition in short order, and you will 
 not have so much to manage: you will then have more 
 time to devote to your own little affairfe with Cora," urged 
 Johnny, with the slyest glance of insinuation. 
 
 "You are talking wildly," observed Cassel. 
 
 " My eyes are wild," retorted Johnny, laughing, "and 
 I am apt to talk as they see, only between you and myself, 
 however," he added. 
 
 " Johnny," said Cassel, shunning the subject of Cora, 
 " I want no foolery in this matter. Young men scarcely 
 know their minds at twenty. I am but little your elder, 
 it is true, but circumstances have disciplined me beyond 
 my years. I will tell you what, in my opinion, you had 
 better do. Continue to study your adopted profession, 
 and endeavor to acquire more of that physical and mental 
 polish which makes a man current- in good and chosen 
 society. "Visit Linda when you will, but do not propose 
 to her inside of six months. That is a very short time in 
 fact, though it may be very long in fancy. Meantime you 
 can consult me if you feel inclined. I will advise you of 
 this much to begin with for I am better posted than you 
 might have supposed that Linda is pleased with you, 
 you great, lubberly fellow," and Cassel laughed at Johnny, 
 who was in no way disconcerted by the good news. " I, 
 also, like you, Johnny, or I should make an effort to halt 
 you right here. Whether you can succeed or not, I am 
 unable to say; but this I promise you, that, as time* flies, 
 if I discover any increase of worth in you, I'll take occa 
 sion to call Linda's attention to it, and vice versa, re 
 member." 
 
 "Cassel," said Johnny, with gushing enthusiasm, "give 
 me your hand on it ! I understand you. You want me
 
 OR CORA GLENCOE. 317 
 
 to make myself worthy of her. I'll do it, by Juggernaut, 
 or run the boat aground. I know I'm awkward, but then 
 I am hardly grown." 
 
 " For Heaven's sake, and Linda's also, don't start to 
 growing again ! You are as big as a buffalo now. But 
 you are not awkward, Johnny ; at least, you will not be 
 when the green sap that is in you turns to solid wood. A 
 little more knitting of your joints together, the accumu 
 lated ballast of the next two years, the maturing of your 
 black moustache and promising whiskers, together with a 
 suit of fashionable clothes, two-story hat, and patent- 
 leather boots, will 'make as fine a specimen of you as a 
 woman, or a man either, would wish to see." 
 
 " Cassel," said Johnny, smiling all over, " you encourage 
 me." 
 
 "All right now, be a good boy and I may help you. 
 But how is Carroll ?" 
 
 " Oh, he's well enough, with the exception that he seems 
 to be getting very irritable, losing his temper entirely." 
 
 " What's the cause of his irritation ?" 
 
 "I don't know, unless it's about Cora Glencoe. He is 
 very often moody and impracticable, and I sometimes 
 think that one of us will have to turn the other out of our 
 room, which we jointly occupy. He used to be so bright, 
 and as full of fun as Linda is of sweetness ; but now he is 
 either reading, sitting up all night dreaming, or scribbling 
 away at something which he won't let me see." 
 
 " Has he not fallen out with me from some cause ?" 
 
 " 1 don't know that he has, Cassel, any more than that 
 he seems to have fallen out with me without any cause. I 
 can't exactly understand him, and I don't like it as well 
 as I do broiled quails, by a long flit. I have told him so 
 a dozen times or more, but he doesn't appear to be in the 
 least concerned whether I like it or not." 
 
 Carroll May was acutely conscious that he was endan 
 gering his whole scheme of life by continuing to venture 
 within the enchanted air which floated about Cora Glencoe. 
 And yet he would venture, notwithstanding that on each 
 repetition of his hazard he came away feeling bitterly. 
 Her impenetrability and adroitness exasperated him ; and 
 after leaving her, he would go to his lodgings, sit up at 
 
 27*
 
 318 TEKEL, 
 
 night, and think and wretchedly wrestle over his almost 
 hopeless passion, and in the mean time mistreat Johnny 
 or ignore him altogether. He felt that he had somehow 
 started wrong with Cora, and that it was now next to 
 impossible to get himself right. When with her he 
 couldn't let her heart alone, although he saw that, like the 
 sensitive plant, it closed against him whenever he ventured 
 to disturb it. In the face of this, he was becoming more 
 frequent and importunate in his visits to Cora. Harry 
 Gray, also, was beginning to haunt the Boyd mansion, in 
 defiance of Cassel Rapid's injunction to come only once a 
 week. 
 
 Cassel's position of guardian was getting to be a delicate 
 and disagreeable one. It had become necessary his duty 
 to interrupt this incessant courting, for Cora hardly 
 could claim a single evening as her own. But for Cassel 
 to interfere would undoubtedly put his motives upon the 
 dissectiug-block ; if not with Cora, certainly with Carroll 
 May, and probably with Harry Gray, et al. He had been 
 unable to discover or analyze her thoughts and wishes in 
 this special connection, except that he had now and anon 
 detected indications of impatience and protest on her part. 
 Before he should act, he determined to wait a given time, 
 much preferring that the proposition for reform should 
 come from her, and half anticipating that it would. 
 
 Day after day passed, and Cassel was beginning to ap 
 prehend that he should be compelled to exercise his au 
 thority, when, one afternoon while he was quietly smoking 
 his cigar, a servant handed a card into his room. The card 
 was from Cora, and Cassel immediately went down to her. 
 
 " Do not throw away your cigar, Mr. Rapid," said 
 Cora, as Cassel was about to toss away his Havana. 
 
 " I dislike to take it into the parlor." 
 
 " Then I will see you in the anteroom, and while we 
 discuss some very grave matters, I will enjoy, what I con 
 fess to like, the fragrance of a good cigar." 
 
 In the anteroom, snugly seated by a coal fire, Cassel 
 said, 
 
 " Now, Miss Cora, what can I do to enhance your com 
 fort or pleasure?" 
 
 " Mr. Rapid," answered Cora, " I am perplexed."
 
 OR CORA GLENCOE. 319 
 
 "Who is not?" asked Cassel, smiling. 
 
 " Few are not, I suppose ; but I am perplexed in the 
 extreme." 
 
 " Not jealous, are you ?" . 
 
 " I am not quoting Othello," said Cora, with the 
 slightest little pout; "and, by-the-way," continued the 
 young girl, genially, " did you know that our red-haired 
 dining-room maid contends that O'Thello was an Irish 
 man ?" 
 
 " Didn't know it. But back to your perplexity ; what 
 is the matter ?" 
 
 " I see too much company," answered Cora, while a deep 
 blush suffused her fair cheeks. 
 
 " Do you see too much company, or see the same com 
 pany too often ?" 
 
 " Too often would probably be the better term." 
 
 "Well, what are you going to do about it?" 
 
 " I want you to help me." 
 
 " In what way ?" 
 
 " Exercise your authority as guardian." 
 
 " And get myself into a difficulty ?" 
 
 " Then don't do it. I will act for myself." 
 
 " And probably get into a still worse difficulty." 
 
 "Show me the way, then, you wise one." 
 
 " Tell me distinctly what you wish." 
 
 " My visitors come too often. Can I say more ?" 
 
 " Your male or your female visitors ?" 
 
 " Mr. Rapid, you are only trying to provoke me. You 
 know well enough what I mean." 
 
 " Do you wish them to come at all ?" 
 
 " They are welcome, if they choose to come more like 
 angels." 
 
 " Making their calls few and far between ?" 
 
 "Farther between than just heretofore." 
 
 "Yery well, I'll frighten them away," said Cassel, 
 smiling. " You shall have no reason to complain in fu 
 ture. Whoever calls again, whom, at the time, you do 
 not wish to entertain, just send his card to me, with your 
 initials on the back of it. I will entertain him myself 
 and be responsible for the issue." 
 
 " I daresay there will be but little ' responsibility ' about
 
 320 TEKEL, 
 
 it, for they will not care. But I shall be none the less 
 obliged to you for your kindness and trouble." 
 
 Cora arose to withdraw, but Cassel detained her, say 
 ing, 
 
 " Please do not go yet, unless you are particularly en 
 gaged ; for, now that we are here, I wish to talk to you." 
 
 " I have no urgent duty waiting upon me elsewhere," 
 answered Cora, who resumed her seat, not wholly free 
 from the apprehension that Cassel might have something 
 very special to say to her. She could not well refuse him 
 an interview, however, be his object general or particular. 
 
 " Do you not think that ' Cora Glencoe ' is a beautiful 
 name ?" asked Cassel. 
 
 " I do notwithstanding it is my own," answered Cora, 
 wondering what Cassel was leading up to. 
 
 " Did you know that another once bore it your little 
 cousin ?" 
 
 " Yes, sir." 
 
 " But for a lamentable accident, there would have been 
 two Coras, and you would have escaped all the strife and 
 uncertainty which has been crowded into your short career. 
 The other Cora, whom you do not remember, and who was 
 so very much like you, had she lived, would have nega 
 tived almost every element of discord in your history and 
 experience." 
 
 " You know my history ?" asked Cora. 
 
 "From Alpha to Omega." 
 
 " I do not know yours." 
 
 " Do not ask to know it. I could not tell it to you now. 
 Some time I may tell you." 
 
 " Where are your relatives and kin ?" 
 
 " Like Logan, I can say that there runs not a drop of 
 my blood in the veins of any human being." 
 
 Cassel's violet glance rested upon Cora with infinite sad 
 ness. The young girl's heart thrilled with an agony of 
 sympathy. 
 
 "And yet you are happy, Mr. Rapid." 
 
 " Because it is my nature to be happy, I cannot help 
 it. It is irrepressible, except, rarely, when the inseparable 
 gloom of all temporal and perishable things darkly over 
 comes me, and makes me ready to welcome a premature
 
 OR CORA GLENCOE. 321 
 
 summons from hither to Eternity. But my present object 
 is to talk, not of myself, but somewhat of you." 
 
 " Please do not, Mr. Rapid spare me I do not like 
 the subject it will not bear discussion." 
 
 " You probably do not understand me, Cora." 
 
 " This was the first time that Cassel had not addressed 
 her as Miss Cora. She glanced at him shyly, like some 
 half-tamed bird anxious to escape, but confused or charmed 
 into remaining. 
 
 " You may remember," began Cassel, " that when you 
 first came to New York I claimed to care for you, and 
 gave you what might have been denominated a prelimi 
 nary lecture, surveying with friendly exactitude the ground 
 upon which stood ' Cora Glencoe, the Pupil and Ward.' 
 It has always been my wish and effort to be perfectly frank 
 with you, and my desire that between us, as guardian and 
 ward, there should be harmony of opinion and predilection. 
 I am now going to make a review, with additions, of the 
 situation, putting you in the light, not of Pupil and Ward, 
 but of Young Lady and Ward, and in this review I am 
 going as far back as your rocking-cradle. My own ideas 
 and opinions I shall give to you without reserve, asking 
 yours as freely in return, that in future we may thoroughly 
 understand each other, that there may be no jar. In the 
 first place, it is proper for me to inform you that Maria 
 Guthrie, upon whose evidence your friends had hoped to 
 terminate the controversy between your father and uncle, 
 is dead. Your future is yet as complicated as your past 
 has been, and it is in view both of your past and future 
 that I now speak." 
 
 As Cassel proceeded, Cora, regarding him attentively, 
 thought that there was no eye so clear and true, no voice 
 so firm and gentle, no judgment so cloudless and correct, 
 no countenance so comely, no soul so limpid, no heart so 
 affectionate, and no manhood so knightly and glorious as 
 Cassel Rapid's. As in her first interview with him, months 
 away, she almost trembled with a sense of inferiority. 
 When he had finished this, his second lecture, which ended 
 in an interesting colloquy, Cora said, 
 
 " Mr. Rapid, I know better now who and what Cora 
 Glencoe is than I ever knew before. How is it that you
 
 322 TEKEL, 
 
 can so accurately divine my current thoughts, and wake 
 up others which perhaps were sleeping, and tell me so 
 truly what I feel, and even dream about ?" 
 
 " It is because I think for you, and feel for you, and 
 dream when you are dreaming," he answered. 
 
 This was the gentlest thing that Cassel had ever said 
 outright to Cora. She did not know exactly what he in 
 tended to convey by it, the solicitude of a guardian or 
 the fondness of a lover, but she repaid him by a glance 
 from her deep dark eyes which told him that she also felt 
 for him, exquisitely. 
 
 The chief transient matter which had perplexed Cora 
 was the fact that she had been drawn into entertaining so 
 many young men, or a number of young men so often. 
 Considering her state of suspension, it looked to her like 
 fashionable, heedless, and even heartless dissipation. She 
 had come to New York to finish her studies, and to be 
 educated in the superficial ways of the world ; in pursu 
 ance of which it was very proper, even essential, that she 
 should enjoy some of the advantages of society, both male 
 r and female. But any inordinate indulgence was con 
 demned by her good sense, and the opposite of her incli 
 nations. Before this interview Cassel was feeling a little 
 disappointed in Cora ; but when the interview ended, he 
 was better satisfied with her than ever before. She was 
 now become the Star of his helm, and by her stellar light 
 would he fain pilot his career. He now unfettered his 
 heart, and it throbbed for only Cora, in all the world, day 
 and night. 
 
 "Would you be displeased," he asked her, "if I should 
 take the liberty of being less conventional, and call you 
 Cora ?" 
 
 " If it would be because you like me better, I would not ; 
 if because I am losing your respect, I should not only be 
 displeased, but grieved also." 
 
 " The cause is, that when we are thus, alone, I would 
 strike out the Miss from between us, and get just that 
 much nearer to you." 
 
 Cora looked at her watch, a present from Oswald Huron, 
 and observed that it was time for her to recite French. 
 She arose, and Cassel, rising with her, held out his hand
 
 OR CORA GLENCOE. 323 
 
 He did not see her so very often in private, notwithstand 
 ing they dwelt^under the same roof. She took his hand 
 and raised her glance as if to say adieu. As he gazed upon 
 her face, chaste as bolted snow, a heavenly blush spread 
 over it ; but her eyes, as firm and dauntless as his own, 
 never quailed before his steady, searching, and mesmeric 
 gaze. Cassel ventured to put his hand upon her faultless 
 head. Cora did not flinch. A crisis was upon her. She 
 fully anticipated from Cassel the avowals of a lover, and 
 she had fully made up her mind to reject him ; for no one, 
 however glorious and thrilling, who knew her history as 
 he knew it, should ever successfully solicit her hand until 
 the mystery of her birth and lineage was solved. She 
 waited almost in agony for him to speak. " Cora," said 
 Cassel, while all the gentleness and fervor of his nature 
 was rife within his voic6, "may the good God forever and 
 forever bless you," and he took his band away. An instant 
 storm of revulsion swept through Cora's breast, and her 
 eyes flashed fire into Cassel's soul, as, infinitely relieved and 
 rejoiced, she turned away and left him, saying to herself, 
 
 " I mistook him altogether, and wronged him ; for he is 
 too sensible and noble to insult and mock my unfortunate 
 condition, as I feared he was about to do." 
 
 Although to the world in which he moved, Cassel's life 
 appeared to glide away in an uninterrupted stream of 
 pleasure, contentment, and happy tranquillity, the fact has 
 been aforetime reverted to, that there were times when 
 memory bore him down into the bleak lair of all grievous 
 and agonizing things, wrenching his bold heart with an 
 guish, and changing it from a ruby fountain of joy to one 
 of vitriolic and bitter waters. But as, heretofore, we have 
 respected the privacy of these absolute and deathly mo 
 ments, we shall continue to do so, as, to intrude upon him 
 while he wrestles with the poison of the past, is not essen 
 tial to the full volume of this narrative, and would only 
 bring pain to the sensitive reader as well as to the writer. 
 
 Neither was Cora free from care, as might have been 
 imagined by those who only superficially and casually 
 knew her ; for she had her oft-recurring hours of mournful 
 meditation and heartache. But she had lived all her life 
 in a Gloom, compared with which her present existence
 
 324 TEKEL, 
 
 was bathed in sunshine and the tranquillizing sheen of 
 Peace. It is not then to be wondered at, that the anxiety 
 and uncertainty attendant upon her peculia'r plight, should, 
 for the time, be subordinate to the tripping pleasures and 
 half-tried advantages which daily waited upon her and 
 greeted her at every step, in such captivating contrast with 
 her former experience. Like Cassel Rapid, Cora was con 
 stituted to enjoy exquisitely, or to endure firmly ; and, 
 as with him, the Angel of Joy would almost always whip 
 out the Demon of Grief from that chosen battle-ground, 
 her tender bosom. 
 
 CHAPTER XXXI. 
 
 THE ensuing evening Harry Gray called to see Cora. 
 She sent his delicately-engraved card to Cassel Rapid, 
 with her initials indorsed upon it. Cassel smiled to think 
 how very soon it had become his province and duty to in 
 terfere between the young girl and her admirers. He also 
 laughed to himself in anticipation of the manner in which 
 young Gray would stomach such interference, and sus 
 pect it. He doubted not that Gray would regard it a's a 
 very selfish interposition. He went down to the parlor, 
 ready for a rumpus. 
 
 " Now, Rapid," cried Gray, as Cassel walked in, "have 
 you brought yourself in here to be willfully de trop, and 
 to vex me with the unsolicited agony of your presence ?" 
 
 To the surprise of Harry, who expected to hear a dis 
 claimer and a round of excuses, Cassel answered, 
 
 " Yes." 
 
 " Then, by Jove, you are ungenerous, Cassel, and inhos 
 pitable. I won't stand it," said Gray, with some indig 
 nation. 
 
 " If you prefer to sit alone," said Cassel, " have your 
 way ; I will retire." 
 
 " But I sent my card to Miss Huron !" 
 
 " Miss Huron is not at home." 
 
 " Not in the house ?"
 
 OR CORA GLENCOE. 325 
 
 " Yes, she is in the house. But Miss Huron is ' not 
 at home.' Don't you understand the conventionality ?" 
 
 "Is she ill?" 
 
 " No." 
 
 " Have I offended her ?" asked Gray, with some anx 
 iety. 
 
 " No, but you have offended me," replied Cassel, 
 smiling. 
 
 "Who the devil cares for you?" cried Gray, impa 
 tiently. 
 
 " I do. But Gray, to cut the matter short, don't you 
 remember that I told you, in the beginning, that Miss Hu 
 ron would see you, probably, once a week ?" 
 
 " Well, yes, I believe I da." 
 
 "I also gave you good reasons why you should not 
 come more frequently." 
 
 " You gave me reasons.'' 
 
 " Good reasons, my absent-minded friend Now, why 
 don't you restrict yourself to weekly visits ?" 
 
 '' Because it's such a bore to be away from her." 
 
 " Well, who is to be bored, I wonder, you or she !" 
 
 " I'm thinking that you are the one who is being bored," 
 answered Gray, saucily and insinuatingly. 
 
 " Very well, sir," retorted Cassel, " I don't choose that 
 you shall bore me." 
 
 " All right, Mr. Tycoon," rejoined Gray, abandoning 
 the controversy. " By-the-vvay, Rapid, did you ever tell 
 her what a fool I made of myself over that confounded 
 Greek quotation ?" 
 
 " No need to have told her." 
 
 " She appreciated it, did she ?" 
 
 "Of course she did. The next morning she laughed 
 very gayly with me about it." 
 
 "And you, doubtless, were excessively gay over it. 
 But why did you tell me that downright falsehood when 
 I asked you if you were a Greek-reading savant ?" 
 
 " I wished to gratify you by affording you an oppor 
 tunity of making a display." 
 
 " And of showing my Well, never mind ; I have yet 
 
 to hear of the man who ever caught a girl by reading Greek." 
 
 " You'll never catch one that way, I am sure." 
 28
 
 326 TEKEL, 
 
 " Rapid, at times I can barely keep my bands from your 
 throat; your laugh, at me especially, is so damnably pro 
 voking." 
 
 " Then why provoke it ? Ha! ha! ha! ha! h-a I" 
 
 Harry got up and started out with a great load of dis 
 gust ; but, halting, he turned about and said, 
 
 " Rapid, come around and see me to-morrow. I am 
 going to broach some wine and cigars, just out of the 
 custom-house, honest transaction, too, articles supposed 
 to be genuine come and judge good-evening." 
 
 When Gray was gone, Cassel said to himself, " There 
 goes as free-hearted a fellow as lives. He never bears 
 malice or sees a bugaboo." 
 
 Cassel returned to his own room. In less than fifteen 
 minutes, and while he was reading the history of the 
 Tulipomania which made lunatics of all Htflland more than 
 two hundred years ago, another card was handed in to 
 him. He took it and read " Carroll May" upon its face ; 
 turning it over, he saw Cora's delicate initials. 
 
 " I don't like this," said Cassel to himself, laying aside 
 the Tulipomania. " I'm afraid that Carroll is not going 
 to prove as tractable and reasonable as Gray. I am certain 
 that he will vindictively feel that I am the mover in this 
 business for my own aims or gratification." 
 
 Cassel went down-stairs and entered the parlor where 
 Carroll was seated. Young May was by this time as 
 quick as lightning to pervert the conduct of Cassel Rapid 
 in everything which appertained to Cora Glencoe. He, 
 without due warrant, had reduced Cassel's motives and 
 recorded them against him ; and he was now in that bitter 
 and self-asserting state of mind which would go far to 
 ward rendering him impervious to reason or the religion of 
 patent facts and circumstances. 
 
 " Good-evening," said Cassel, pleasantly, as he entered 
 the room and offered his hand. to Carroll. 
 
 Young May's greeting lacked its bygone cordiality, not 
 withstanding he did not divine the wherefore of Cassel's 
 inopportune presence. A conversation upon indifferent 
 subjects ensued, during which Carroll was rather abstract 
 than concrete. Cassel hesitated whether he should tell 
 Carroll of Cora's newly-chosen exclusiveness or wait for
 
 OR CORA OLENOOE. 327 
 
 him to introduce the purpose of his visit himself. Carroll, 
 becoming impatient, asked, 
 
 " Is Cora at home ?" 
 
 " Yes." 
 
 " I sent my card to her," suggested Carroll. 
 
 " She is engaged to-night, and will not see any one." 
 
 " Not see any one -why not ?" 
 
 " As I tell you, she is otherwise employed." 
 
 " She might have sent me word." 
 
 "I bring you the word myself." 
 
 " By authority from her ?" 
 
 "At her request." 
 
 " It is not your doing, then ?" 
 
 Cassel had never warned Carroll to come only once in 
 awhile to see Cora, as he had warned Harry Gray; for 
 he thought that Carroll's intimate knowledge of the young 
 girl's history, coupled with his own native good sense, 
 would suggest to him a corresponding respect for her pe 
 culiar situation, and restrain him from encroaching upon 
 her, and putting her at fault before the world. Cassel 
 had for some time been sensible that Carroll May, entirely 
 without just cause, was becoming more and more embit 
 tered against him. He could detect it in Carroll's eye, in 
 the twitch of his lip, the impatience of a gesture, and the 
 sarcasm of a word. He, out of compassion, and placid, 
 native nobility, had borne with Carroll's whisks and whims 
 until he was weary of them. To Carroll's last insinuating 
 remark he answered, calmly but somewhat coldly, 
 
 " Your words lack courtesy, Carroll." 
 
 "I discover no courtesy here which merits a response." 
 
 " Seek more agreeable environs, then." 
 
 " Not until I have searched this thing to the bottom." 
 
 " You are at the bottom of it now." 
 
 " If you are the bottom, I will go beneath and beyond 
 you." 
 
 " Carroll, you are strangely unjointed of late." 
 
 " If I am, it is my affair not yours." 
 
 " We were once friends." 
 
 "When we were children." 
 
 "And might well be, now that we are men." 
 
 " Tell me why I cannot see Cora Glencoe, and why she 
 sends you here to deny me ?"
 
 328 TEKEL, 
 
 Cassel very explicitly told him. Carroll answered, 
 
 " If you were not my rival, I could see her." 
 
 " Whether I am or not, you can see her, but only at 
 her pleasure." 
 
 " You require me to make my visits seldom, while you 
 are always with her," said Carroll, bitterly and fiercely. 
 
 " I am with her less than you are." 
 
 " But you are in the same house with her, and see her 
 every day. Is this what you call a fair fight ?" 
 
 "You can come and live with us if you wish, and see 
 her just as I, or the others do, who are in the house." 
 
 " It does not suit me to live here." 
 
 " You must suit yourself, as a matter of course." 
 
 " Neither does it suit me to be put off in this manner, 
 and have this denial come through you." 
 
 " Possibly you do not accept it as authorized and gen 
 uine ?" 
 
 " I would prefer to have it from her own mouth." 
 
 " You can obtain what you prefer, if you will await 
 her convenience instead of endeavoring to substitute your 
 own. You can afflict her, if you rudely choose to do so, 
 by compelling her to repeat what I have already told you, 
 and what I am well-nigh tired of insisting upon." 
 
 " I will not be put off at your dictation. I'll see her 
 to-night, by thunder ! and settle this matter." 
 
 Cassel's color deliberately rose. Fixing his firm, un 
 yielding eyes upon Carroll, he slowly and with relentless 
 decision, said, 
 
 " You will not see her to-night, Carroll May." 
 
 " Then, by heavens !" cried Carroll, springing up and 
 dashing his fist down upon a marble stand, " I'll see you 
 in the morning!" saying which, he wheeled about and 
 strode out of the mansion. 
 
 Cassel, who had entertained for Carroll none but senti 
 ments of kindness which expanded even to indulgence, 
 was shocked, grieved, and incensed by such headlong and 
 unjustifiable behavior. He had anticipated something of 
 a scene, but nothing so outrageous as this. Carroll did 
 not seem to realize or care for the stern danger which he 
 was daring, for Cassel was by far his overmatch, and had 
 never accustomed himself to deal gently with men who
 
 OR CORA OLENCOE. 329 
 
 insulted him. But out of charity, and knowing Carroll 
 to be greatly distempered on account of Cora, he was 
 willing yet to forgive the aggressive faults of the mad- 
 hearted young lover, and continue to be his friend, if he 
 would let him. 
 
 Still half reflecting and half wondering how U Amour 
 could so unhinge an otherwise clear-headed young man, 
 Cassel, lapsing from his wonted discretion, sent his card 
 to Cora. It soon came back, with her initials now fatal 
 to an interview indorsed thereon. 
 
 "There!" said Cassel, rating and laughing 'at himself; 
 " I am caught under my own deadfall. She treats us all 
 alike. I was incautious and too precipitate. She is right 
 not to desire an immediate discussion of the beaus whom 
 I have turned away for her. Cora is most certainly ' not 
 at home' this evening." 
 
 Cassel went to his room, turned up the gas, lighted a 
 cigar, and once more essayed Tulipomania. From reading, 
 he fell to dreaming, when, at the expiration of an hour or 
 more, there came a tap at his door. 
 
 " Come in." 
 
 A servant opened the door and said, 
 
 "A gentleman below wishes to see Mr. Rapid." 
 
 " Have you his card ?" 
 
 " No, sir." 
 
 " His name?" 
 
 "No, sir." 
 
 " Request him to send one or the other." 
 
 The servant disappeared, and returning in a few 
 moments, said, 
 
 " The gentleman declines to send his card, but says that 
 his business is important." 
 
 " Tell him that I decline to see him." 
 
 Cassel had already divined the errand upon which the 
 gentleman had come, and he determined to exact of him. 
 to the outside limit. The servant reappeared with a card, 
 on the face of which Cassel read " Charles Vermilion." 
 
 " Carroll May has chosen a red-named second, at least, 
 to aid him in the spilling of red blood," said Cassel to 
 himself. " I will go down and have a look at this Cochi 
 neal." 
 
 28*
 
 330 TEKEL, 
 
 Cassel entered the anteroom where the gentleman was 
 waiting, the parlors being occupied by some of the Boyd 
 colony. 
 
 " Mr. Rapid, I presume." 
 
 " My name is Rapid." 
 
 " Allow me to introduce myself as Mr. Charles Ver 
 milion." 
 
 " From where?" 
 
 " From the city of New York, sir." 
 
 " On important business if I mistake not." 
 
 " Yes, sir." 
 
 " State it." 
 
 Mr. Charles Vermilion handed Cassel a note in reply. 
 Cassel took it and recognized the handwriting of Carroll 
 May. 
 
 "Is your name mentioned in the body of this note?" 
 asked Cassel, without breaking the seal. 
 
 "No, sir." 
 
 " Neither is it on the envelope, and I can't receive it." 
 
 " Jt was an oversight." 
 
 " 1 cannot receive it." 
 
 " Why, pray ?" 
 
 " I never transact business of importance with an un 
 accredited stranger." 
 
 " Do you doubt my identity or my respectability ?" 
 
 " Your identity is no guarantee to me of your respecta 
 bility ; for this is the first time I ever saw or heard of 
 either you or Mr. Charles Vermilion." 
 
 " What do you require, sir ?" 
 
 " Since you have undertaken this business, I require 
 that you shall conduct it in strict conformity with the 
 Code. If you are a novice, go to some professional, and 
 he will rejoice in giving you instructions." 
 
 " You are rather tart, sir, but I suppose you have a 
 right to demand this of me. Good-evening." 
 
 Aside from Cassel's scorn for these too often pompous 
 and heartless go-betweens, he wished to give Carroll May 
 an opportunity to repent of his precipitancy and suppress 
 the hostile note. But he did not know Carroll as well as 
 he was destined to find him oat. Mr. Vermilion returned 
 in half an hour, with his missive decidedly a la mode.
 
 OR CORA GLENCOE. 331 
 
 Cassel, who did not care to be. troubled by meeting him be 
 low, the anteroom being now without fire, received the 
 warlike messenger in his own room. "Vermilion had acted 
 in a gentlemanly though unsophisticated manner, and 
 Cassel had no further disposition to treat him harshly. 
 C issel read Carroll May's challenge, and laid it on a table. 
 Vermilion withdrew, and, as it was getting late, Cassel 
 went to bed and fell regularly to sleep. 
 
 In the morning he met Cora in the lower hall, and tak 
 ing advantage of a volunteer opportunity, he asked her 
 into the nearest parlor. Being seated, he said, 
 
 " Cora, I turned off Mr. Gray last night." 
 
 She looked at him and blushed, then asked, 
 
 " How did you do it ?" 
 
 " Oh, I turned him off just as I would a gas-light. But 
 would you like to know how he acted ?" 
 
 "Yes," replied Cora, laughing, '-' I would." 
 
 " Well, he conducted himself like a clever, sound-hearted 
 young gentleman, as he is ; he was very anxious to see 
 you, but accepted the situation handsomely." 
 
 " I hope he did not feel hurt," said Cora, gently. 
 
 "I also turned off Carroll May." 
 
 " Like a gas-light, also ?" asked Cora, cutely. 
 
 " No. He went off like a rocket. Here is the difference 
 between Carroll and Harry Gray," and Cassel handed Cora 
 the hostile note which he had received overnight, and re 
 quested her to read it. She took the note and glanced 
 through it, then hastly dropped it as if it had been a sting 
 ing scorpion. Springing up, she set her heel upon it, 
 while her face turned as pale as pallid wax. Back to her 
 face again rushed the- blood, and into her eyes leaped up 
 that invincible, desperate look of old with which she had 
 outstood the stormy master of Cliff Hall. Cassel had 
 never seen in all his life such intense and vivid loveliness, 
 standing out like some heroic fiery statue, and blazing 
 with an intrinsic and electric tempest. In a voice which 
 rang like steel, she said, 
 
 " May woe be unto the hand that sheds blood over the 
 luckless head of Cora Glencoe !" and bursting into an agony 
 of tears, she threw herself upon a sofa, and sobbed out 
 the storm from her bosom. Presently she looked up and
 
 332 TEKEL, 
 
 said, " I, alone, have brought this hateful thing upon 
 you." 
 
 The sight of Cora's wet face and the tear-drops hang 
 ing on her lashes, deluged Cassel's heart with tenderness 
 for her. 
 
 " Do you not think that my honor is at stake ?" asked 
 he. 
 
 " No !" cried Cora, vehemently. " Let him go rave to 
 the wind, or seek council from his father's grave. I forbid 
 you to meet him on any plea of mine. I shall never speak 
 to him again never ; or to you, Mr. Rapid, if you accept 
 this challenge." 
 
 " Cora, do not be rash in your resolutions." 
 
 " Rash ? I am not rash. There are other codes besides 
 the technical, desperate code of Honor. I tell you that I 
 utterly condemn this systematic, diplomatic, cold-blooded 
 slaughter, which is so frequently the sequel to a petty dif 
 ference as trivial as the distinction between honor and 
 honor. Carroll May's own father was killed by it, and 
 my uncle, whom I thought my father, did the deed. I once 
 saw a murder, down on the beach at Creswood, in the 
 shallow water. I can hear the words of the murderer 
 ringing in my ears now, 'Go home, you sparrow! the 
 falcons of Hell are abroad !' But it is too terrible to think 
 of or discuss ; it curdled up my blood, and I fainted. I 
 never wish to see or hear of such another crime." 
 
 Cassel, for the first time, learned that it was Cora who 
 was sitting upon the Tarpeian Rock, looking at him, when 
 he drove the dagger three times through the heart of Jonas 
 Aiken. Should he ever tell her of that event in his history, 
 or rather, that the event, which she so vividly remem 
 bered, was a central part of his history ? He would let 
 time and circumstances decide. 
 
 " Mr. Rapid," said Cora, with that frankness which 
 Cassel had insisted should operate between them, " if there 
 is one on earth whose hand I would shield from the spatter 
 and stain of blood, it is my kind, and patient, and knightly 
 guardian. I know that it is the nature of men to rush 
 hotly into fatal and fearful actions. But I know you to be 
 cool and dauntless, and there is no need or exigency that 
 you should sacrifice your honor by a mistaken effort to
 
 OR CORA OLENCOE. 333 
 
 maintain it. Promise me that you will not meet Carroll 
 May." 
 
 " Cora, you are the sweetest advocate that lives on 
 earth. You tempt me sorely to break over a different 
 barrier from that which you are erecting. But here is my 
 answer to all you have said. This is a copy of the original 
 which has already been sent." And Cassel bonded her a 
 sheet of paper, having first unfolded it. 
 
 Cora took the paper and read it rapidly. Over her anx 
 ious face flashed the light of joy and relief. 
 
 " Whatever the cause," said Cassel, " I would not bring 
 your name out before the public, either on bullet or bulle 
 tin, no, not for a thousand such points of honor as this." 
 
 With an approving, grateful, happy glance, Cora said, 
 while she put one foot out as if ready to spring away, 
 
 "Please let me go now;" and, as Cassel signified his 
 consent, she ran out and up to her room, entered it and 
 locked the door, where we will leave her to those wild and 
 wakeful vicissitudes which thrilling love fails not to shower 
 down. 
 
 Cassel's reply to Carroll- May was briefly as follows: 
 
 " CARROLL MAY, ESQ. 
 
 " SIR, Knowing perfectly well the mistaken animus of 
 your billet, I refrain from acting upon its suggestions, 
 trusting, that when you have reflected, you will withdraw 
 it. There might be provocations which would justify your 
 note, but none such exist. In this matter, or lack of mat 
 ter, I claim the privilege of judging for myself. 
 
 "As you will: 
 
 " CASSEL P. RAPID." 
 
 Carroll May, when he received the above communica 
 tion, wrote a sarcastic, biting, and extremely personal ar 
 ticle, which he appended to the correspondence already 
 transpired between himself and Cassel Rapid, and in which 
 he as was customary, and is yet denounced Cassel as 
 a poltroon, coward, etc. etc. He went to the office of a 
 city newspaper, to have published the correspondence and 
 his additions to it. The newspaper-man through whose 
 hands this fulmination passed for acceptance or rejection,
 
 334 Tr.KEL. 
 
 happened to be acquainted with Cassel Rapid, and hap 
 pened to be unacquainted with Carroll May. He was very 
 well aware that if there was a person in New York city 
 who was not a poltroon, coward, etc. etc., that it was Cas 
 sel Rapid. He therefore went to Cassel, out of motives 
 half friendly, half cautious, and made an exhibit of Carroll's 
 proffered newspaper assault, at the same time seeking of 
 Cassel information in regard to the foundation of it. The 
 flint in Cassel's soul at last was struck, and the fire flashed 
 and scintillated from it. 
 
 " Wait a moment," said Cassel to the newspaper-man. 
 
 He then went up to his room, belted on a pair of pistols, 
 came down again, and said, 
 
 " Come with me into the city." 
 
 He took the editor to O'Dare's office, and carried him 
 back into a shooting-gallery, the property of the detective. 
 Lighting a couple of candles, he placed them on the target- 
 stand. Retiring to the far-end of the gallery, he drew his 
 pistols, one in either hand, and leveling them, almost si 
 multaneously snuffed the candles with a double discharge. 
 Turning to the newsman, he said, 
 
 " So far as Cassel Rapid is concerned, he can afford to 
 disdain that written article. But there is another besides 
 himself involved, and I give you now distinctly to under 
 stand me. I'm obliged to you for coming to me first before 
 deciding to publish what you know to be a lie. If that 
 article is published by your newspaper, I will not only 
 hold the author of it to account, but I will snuff out every 
 responsible scribbler or proprietor of your establishment. 
 I am not threatening you or daring you, but simply notify 
 ing you of a cold, congealed fact, which you will have to 
 encounter." 
 
 The editor lighted a match and burned the manuscript 
 before Cassel's face. When it was consumed, he observed, 
 with dry humor in his countenance, 
 
 " That ends the business. I am not yet prepared for 
 your snuffing process." 
 
 . The newsman went back lo his items. Cassel stood 
 in the front door of O'Dare's office, and amused himself 
 talking to a raw Irishman, just over from the bogs of 
 Killarney.
 
 OR CORA GLENCOE. 335 
 
 ' What in the divil is that ?" asked Paddy. 
 
 'That is an American brunette." 
 
 'Be Jasus, an' I thought it was a she nager." 
 
 ' What are you doing here, Paddy ?" 
 
 ' Hunting room for meself, yer honor." 
 
 ' Plenty of it, isn't there ?" 
 
 ' Not in this city, jist." 
 
 ' Why don't you go out West ?" 
 
 ' Where is that, if ye plaze ?" 
 
 ' Where the sun sets." 
 
 'Begorrah, what the divil is out there ?" 
 
 ' Have you never read Hiawatha ?" 
 
 ' Yis, yer honor, high wather, and low wather, and 
 bilge wather, and salt wather; but it has been a bog of a 
 stretch since I read any whisky wather. Would yer 
 honor be so benivolent as to give Paddy a dime to wet the 
 channel of Quid Ireland ? I'm off the immigrant ship jist, 
 and have been drinking sea wather all the way over. My 
 troat is as dry as the ashes of yer honor's cigar." 
 
 Just as Cassel was tossing a silver quarter to the Irish 
 man, Carroll May, with inflamed eyes, approached, and, 
 without warning, aimed a pistol at Cassel and fired. The 
 bullet missed its mark, and Cassel, springing upon his 
 antagonist, wrenched the pistol from his grasp. Seizing 
 Carroll by the throat, he crushed him irresistibly down 
 upon the pavement. Hector O'Dare came out to see what 
 was the matter. Carroll meantime had swooned, and 
 Cassel Rapid turned him over to O'Dare, requesting that 
 he be taken to one of the city hospitals. O'Dare put Car 
 roll into hospital, where he- lingered with delirious fever. 
 When Carroll recovered, he was somewhat cooled of his 
 hot distemper, though he was far from being cured of his 
 hostility toward Cassel Rapid. But he was destined to 
 be very suddenly and very painfully cured. Returning 
 from sick leave to the office of Hallum & Gore (his em 
 ployers), after sitting and talking awhile, he was handed 
 a note, which read in words as below : 
 
 " MESSRS. HALLUM & GORE. 
 
 " GENTLEMEN, On receipt of this, you will discontinue 
 my contribution to the salary of Carroll May, your assist-
 
 TEKEL, 
 
 ant ; as circumstances not anticipated have rendered the 
 gratuity inexpedient. " Respectfully, 
 
 " CASSEL P. RAPID." 
 
 Carroll turned to Mr. Gore for an explanation, which 
 was very explicitly furnished him. It began to dawn 
 upon his mind that he had branded himself with ig 
 nominy and black ingratitude by his headlong, vindic 
 tive, and dastard conduct. He picked up his hat, went 
 out, sought his room, threw himself across the bed, and 
 groaned in spirit. Carroll began to realize that Cassel 
 Rapid, whom he was teaching himself to hate and abuse, 
 had been his thorough friend, to the rare extent of secret 
 charity, delicately chosen and bestowed. He revolted 
 against the bitter bondage into which he had so madly 
 thrust himself. What was now to be done ? How could 
 he undo the pernicious, galling web which he had woven 
 about himself, and purge himself so that no flavor of the 
 past should be left to sicken the future ? With reaction 
 ary humility, he wrote to Cassel a long letter, which 
 teemed with apology and repentance. In answer to it he 
 received the letter below: 
 
 " CARROLL MAY, ESQ. 
 
 SIR, Yours is received, and I allow its sincerity. 
 But when, without cause, a once professed friend persist 
 ently seeks my life, there is no logic to convince me that 
 there was not something radically wrong in his original 
 friendship, or yet something strangely perverse in the 
 man himself. I am willing to bury the past the whole 
 past, early recollections and all and to meet you as I 
 would meet a stranger, and be governed as I would be 
 with a new acquaintance ; to wit : by the developments of 
 the future. I have no extra sentiment or sensibility to 
 squander upon shallow reconciliations. 
 
 " As you like it : 
 
 " CASSEL P. RAPID." 
 
 Cassel, who had been slow to anger, having been fully 
 roused, was no vacillating child to offer blows at one 
 moment and kisses the next, nor a heedless wight, to 
 shift his friendships and affections with every breeze.
 
 OR CORA GLEXCOE. 337 
 
 Does the reader remember what it was that convinced 
 Carroll May of Cassel Rapid's genuine nobility ? It was 
 the knowledge that Cassel had secretly added a few hun 
 dred dollars to his salary as assistant in the law office of 
 Halluni & Gore. How strange it is that a few ounces of 
 gold should be accepted as brighter and more weighty 
 evidence of friendship than all the protestations and good 
 fellowship in the world! Cassel had uniformly treated 
 Carroll with especial kindness, amounting to brotherly 
 tenderness and forbearance ; and yet it required a paltry 
 hundred dollars or so to prove him sincere 1 
 
 Carroll, whose impulses were generous when not trav 
 ersed by passion, felt abased to the very dust. He wrote 
 another letter which Cassel, out of his wakeful compas 
 sion, could not forbear responding to kindly. " Come and 
 see me," pleaded Carroll, " for I am utterly ashamed ever 
 to intrude my face upon you, even to ask forgiveness." 
 Cassel went. 
 
 " Oh, Cassel, can you ever, ever forgive me?" 
 
 " Carroll, I have already done so. My coming is a 
 pledge that the air between us is clear. If it becomes 
 clouded again, I hope it will be no fault of mine." 
 
 " Cassel, you cannot conceive how wretched and humil 
 iated I am. If ever I wrong you with bad thoughts 
 again, may all the powers of heaven launch out destruction 
 at me !" 
 
 " Let it be so ; and let this thing be buried as the dead 
 are buried. But where is Johnny ?" 
 
 " I do not know. In my madness I drove him from 
 me. I have not seen him for a week. When he left, 
 after having tried to dissuade me, he sternly said, 'Car 
 roll, what I heartily have to repeat, is, that 1 hope Cassel 
 Rapid will put you out of your misery, which he can do, 
 if he chooses, in the twinkling of an eye.' Since then I 
 have not heard of him." 
 
 " Won't he come back ?" 
 
 " Not until I send for him, and I don't know where to 
 send. He is the best fellow in the world, but when once 
 he sets his head he is as stubborn as Gibraltar." 
 
 " You write him a little love-letter," said Cassel. " I 
 am satisfied that he will be in to see me before long. I 
 
 29
 
 338 TEKEL, 
 
 will deliver the letter, explain to him, and let him decide 
 for himself if he will come back to you or not." 
 
 In a few days, Johnny was back with Carroll. 
 
 Carroll May determined never to re-try his fortunes 
 with Cora. He would not look upon her face again, as it 
 would only aggravate an already hopeless case. 
 
 CHAPTER XXXII. 
 
 WE have, up to this time, omitted to state that Linda 
 occasionally paid a visit to her old home in Pennsylvania, 
 where her family and the neighborhood petted her nearly 
 to death. Also, that Neville Huron and his family peri 
 odically visited Cora. Having no room for new and un 
 essential characters, however, we refrain from encumber 
 ing our history with the kith and kin of Linda and Cora. 
 
 Cassel frequently called upon O'Dare, between whom 
 and himself a stanch friendship had early taken root and 
 now throve thriftily. Each recognized in the other the 
 genuine mettle of a proper man. One morning, not long 
 after the little affray between Cassel and Carroll, in which 
 the latter had attempted to shoot the former, Cassel stepped 
 into the office of the detective, and was greeted with, 
 
 " Good-morning, Mr. Lightning." 
 
 " Good-morning, Hector, thou spawn of Priam," retorted 
 Cassel, who generally came prepared for 'Dare's drollery 
 and impudence. 
 
 " I find you always ready, too ready, in fact, for one 
 of your age, you'll come to grief yet before you marry." 
 
 " If not before that event, then most certainly after it, 
 if the murmuriugs and mutterings which come like distant 
 thunder to us from the wedded world are any indication 
 of the incessant storm which might well be supposed to 
 rage there." 
 
 " Rapid, what ever became of that young assassin, Car 
 roll May ? I had no idea that he was such a viper."
 
 OR CORA GLENCOE. 339 
 
 " He is down in the Valley of Humiliation, clothed in 
 sackcloth and ashes, repenting of his rashness." 
 
 *" When I left him at the hospital, I expressed to him 
 my kindest wishes that he might enjoy euthanasia at an 
 early age." 
 
 " Do not judge too harshly of him," said Cassel. " He 
 was laboring under the hydrophobia of an unsuccessful 
 love-passion. But have you any Huron news, any late 
 developments ?" 
 
 " Rapid," replied O'Dare, impudently, " you don't pay 
 me a cent, and vet you come around about once a week, 
 suck me dry of ' news,' and then toss yourself off without 
 even saying thanky. Remember that my information is 
 the equivalent of gold, or trouble." 
 
 " I offered you gold, you blood-hound, and you would 
 not receive it. I now offer you the other equivalent, 
 trouble," said Cassel, stepping out into the middle of the 
 floor and pulling off his coat. 
 
 " What does that mean ?" asked O'Dare. 
 
 " Come out here," cried Cassel. " You've always been 
 bragging and bantering about your wrestling. I wish to 
 give you a little 'trouble,' I'll tussle with you for your 
 cash secrets." 
 
 O'Dare, who was an expert wrestler, threw off his coat 
 and willingly accepted the challenge. 
 
 " What ' holt '?" asked the detective. 
 
 " Indian Hug," replied Cassel, and the champions in 
 stantly clinched. 
 
 The two men were about the same weight and inches, 
 but Cassel was a model from top to toe, and was full of the 
 activity and lithe strength of youth and symmetry. He 
 was also an expert, trained in a Border School where 
 such back-breaking sports are common. Before O'Dare 
 knew what was the matter, Cassel spun him around and 
 dusted his back for him. O'Dare got up somewhat crest 
 fallen, and saying, 
 
 " Rapid, you've won it fairly ; but I don't acknowledge 
 that there is another man in New York of your weight 
 who can do the like." 
 
 " Pshaw ! O'Dare. I can throw you any ' holt ' you 
 may choose, side holt, Yankee holt, breeches holt, or grab 
 holt."
 
 340 TEKEL, 
 
 " Try me Yankee holt," said O'Dare, hoping to redeem 
 himself, for ' Yankee holt ' was his forte. 
 
 They went at it again. The struggle this time wfts 
 more equal, and Cassel came near to losing his feet, but 
 by a dexterous recover he shifted O'Dare off his pins, arid 
 landed him square upon his hams. 
 
 Cassel's hearty laugh rang through the office, and was 
 joined by that of an amused and admiring clerk who stood 
 looking on, while O'Dare, still sitting upon the floor, gazed 
 rather foolishly about him, as if to discover where he pos 
 sibly could be. The sudden change in his polarity had 
 disconcerted him. Cassel, mimicking valiant Jack Fal- 
 staff, mocked O'Dare, saying, 
 
 " 'And now, my lord, I'll caper with you for a thousand 
 pounds, if you'll lend me the money.'" 
 
 " Rapid," said O'Dare, getting up a little stiffly, "you 
 are a hell of a bother. But, come ; I'll see what's on the 
 books," and turning to his immense volume of Secrets, he 
 glanced over an open page, and continued: "I believe I 
 told you that Maria Guthrie is dead ?" 
 
 " Yes." 
 
 " Since then I have learned that her death was sudden, 
 that she gave no verbal statement, and left no posthumous 
 papers, in regard to Miss Cora Glencoe Huron. If she 
 ever divulged the secret which she held, it rests under the 
 seal of the Catholic confessional. I have here a transcript 
 of her epitaph," and O'Dare read it off. " This is all that 
 you have earned by the ' trouble' which you have just given 
 me, but at your next regular intrusion I may have some 
 thing fresh and forcible for you." 
 
 " And I'll pay you for it, if you will, in your own chosen 
 coin." 
 
 " Now that you have got what you came for, clear out ! 
 I've no more time to spend unprofitably, I'm busy." 
 
 "Good-morning," said Cassel, who left the detective to 
 his webs, and traps, and snares. 
 
 Linda Boyd gave a large Dinner Party, and a gossiping, 
 lively company was gathered in the Boyd mansion, in the 
 midst of which were Johnny Gale and Harry Gray, con 
 spicuously. Carroll May excused himself, being under a 
 great "press of business." Johnny, as he afterward told
 
 OR CORA OLENCOE. 341 
 
 Cassel, " was doing his differential best to get Linda into 
 integral calculus, and demonstrate to her that he was the 
 most charming problem, and the most desirable upright 
 cone, extant." As long as Cassel would joke Johnny, and 
 Linda smile on him, he felt as luscious as a fig, and as gay 
 as a spring lark. Neither was Johnny any ordinary " catch." 
 He possessed good sound sense, was becoming polished, 
 was already fine-looking, was industrious, was sober, was 
 full of generous humor, could calculate and collect the in 
 terest on Linda's investments to the accuracy of an invis 
 ible fraction, and bid fair to become a bright utensil " about 
 the house," as well as an ornament. 
 
 Harry Gray had fenced with Cora until they had got to 
 be very good friends, and she was periodically glad to see 
 him. Cora knew that Harry loved her, in his free-hearted 
 kind of way, for he did not, in the same kind of way, hes 
 itate to tell her so; but as he had discretion enough not to 
 trench upon her maiden prerogative of yea or nay, she 
 passed many a pleasing and pungent moment with him. 
 Harry never missed finding the Boyd mansion on Thurs 
 day night of each week, and he managed to get an occa 
 sional extra glimpse of Cora by calling at odd hours on 
 Linda. 
 
 The dining was done with all the delightful brilliancy 
 of vivacious, sweet success, during which the tippling of 
 delicate and enthused wine supplied the saddest and most 
 tedious guest with intermittent wit 
 
 Rising from the table and resorting to the parlors, it 
 happened that Cassel Rapid and Cora became seated in 
 close proximity. While discussing the propriety of going 
 to church oftener, Cassel was handed a sealed telegraphic 
 dispatch. Taking it, he bowed slightly to Cora, and said, 
 
 " I believe it is etiquette to read telegrams when and 
 where they are received." 
 
 " It should be, if it is not ; for the very sight of them 
 implies haste," replied Cora. 
 
 Cassel tore the envelope, and at a single glance read the 
 four words which had come over the wires. Looking up 
 at Cora, he observed, 
 
 " Here is a collection of words which would make some 
 men shiver." 
 
 29*
 
 342 TEKEL, 
 
 " How does it affect you ?" 
 
 "It is a relief; putting, as it does, an end to a bad bar 
 gain," answered Cassel, with a smile. 
 
 " It is, then, on business ?" 
 
 "Yes; prosy business." 
 
 As Cassel replied to her, the letter-sheet floated, as a 
 gate swings, about in his hand, and the telegram, written 
 in plain, bold characters, exposed itself to Cora's eye. She 
 had no desire to read the telegram, but as it was so brief 
 and distinct, her unprying eye mechanically and instantly 
 caught and mastered the words, without an effort. The 
 dispatch was directed to " Cassel P. Rapid," and read, 
 "Your wife is dead." 
 
 There is a very exceptionable, novelistic resort, where 
 excuses can be found for singularly situated persons who 
 see when they don't want to see, and who hear when they 
 don't want to hear ; compulsory sight-seers and compul 
 sory eavesdroppers, they might be termed, who find it 
 utterly beyond their power to escape seeing or hearing. 
 Now, unless the sight comes quick and vivid, as light 
 ning, or the sound is loud and deep, like thunder, there 
 is no excuse for seeing, or hearing, against one's will. We 
 can suggest an infallible and invincible escape from all this 
 conscientious trouble. Here it is. When anything pre 
 sents itself to the Eye, which the Eye does not wish to 
 see, close the Eye, and the Eye won't see : a very simple 
 and ready remedy, unquestionably. When, by fortuity, a 
 confidential conversation is in progress, and catches an 
 unseen Ear in an awkward proximity from which there is 
 no escape, if the Ear sincerely desires not to hear the con 
 fidential conversation, stick a finger in the Ear, or fill it up 
 with mud, and the Ear won't hear, another very simple 
 and ready remedy. So much for these unwilling spies and 
 eavesdroppers, and their abettors, the unfertile novelists. 
 
 We are not endeavoring to excuse or condemn Cora for 
 reading Cassel's telegram. It swung before her eyes, and 
 she gathered its contents as the eye catches a flash of 
 lightning, without premeditation. Cora was chilled with 
 horror as she read those mortal words, "Your wife is 
 
 m / 
 
 dead," and it was with the utmost difficulty that she could 
 restrain herself from springing up and placing herself en
 
 OR CORA GLENCOE. 343 
 
 alto before the assembled and watchful company. She 
 kept her seat, however, and soon sat like a stone statue 
 in front of Cassel Rapid. He was quick to discover her 
 radically altered and extraordinary appearance, and, being 
 alarmed by it, anxiously questioned her. She barely re 
 plied to him, and after sitting awhile she got deliberately 
 up and went to her room. Cora felt outraged, indignant, 
 and stricken to the heart. She remembered that Cassel 
 had avoided telling her his history, escaping from it with 
 the plea that it was then impossible or inexpedient, but that 
 some day he might tell her. Who was this Cassel Rapid ? 
 and who knew anything about him, or his life ? How did 
 Mr. Hope know him, who had only seen him for a few 
 days, except when he was a little boy ? Who could tell 
 of him, and of his hidden ways ? Horror predominated 
 over every other feeling which took possession of Cora's 
 breast. " Who would ever have so wronged him," said 
 Cora to herself, " as to have imagined from either his pub 
 lic or private tenor that he was a married man ! But how 
 coolly he received the tidings of the death of his wife, 
 making a satanic joke of it, and hailing it as the finale of 
 a losing and disagreeable contract ! What sort of a creat 
 ure she may have been, I find it difficult to imagine ; an 
 angel or a Gorgon. Who would dream, that knows him as 
 I do, that so foul and horrible a spirit lighted up those pure 
 and dauntless-looking eyes of his ? Who would divine 
 that a heart so callous beat within the breast from whence 
 come words and winning numbers, so true, and tender, and 
 soft ? Who could look upon his blonde face, radiant with fatal 
 beauty, and say that it was the reflex of a black night be 
 hind it? Who could look upon his manly, matchless form, 
 and account it but the seductive garb of a treacherous 
 devil ? How art thou fallen from heaven, Lucifer, Son 
 of the Morning ! Ah, but it is a bitter, bitter, bitter 
 thing to me, to be driven to think of him as thus revealed." 
 Although Cassel, some months previously, had stated to 
 Linda that he was a single man, a young bachelor, he 
 had never made a similar statement to Cora, whose acquaint 
 ance with him was of more recent date than Linda's. Not 
 withstanding this, Cora could regard him in no conceiva 
 ble attitude but that of a deliberate impostor. But could
 
 344 TEKEL, 
 
 she openly fall out with him, and show resentment, be 
 cause he had been married to a woman, and because that 
 woman was dead, and because he appeared to consider it 
 a good riddance, the gratifying close of an originally bad 
 bargain ? Was it any of her concern whether he had or 
 had not been married ? Then, how many were there in 
 the world who might regard the decease of a husband or 
 wife as a welcome deliverance ? How was she to make 
 up her accusation against him ? He had never declared 
 himself her lover. It was true that he had evinced a 
 tender and guardian interest in her ; but was not every one 
 about her very tender toward her? "Ah," said she, 
 springing to a possible solution, "perhaps it is my tender 
 ness for him that gives a bad color to this matter, and ex 
 acts of him what I have no right to demand. Can I go 
 to him and say, Mr. Rapid, you have deceived me ; you 
 have been a married man ; your wife is just now dead, and 
 you are glad of it ? And yet, how can I meet him, or sit by 
 him, as of old, or even pretend to do so, when I shall have 
 to breathe, the while, an atmosphere loaded with horror 
 and the rank poison of dissimulation of my own dissim 
 ulation, in fact, if not of his ?" 
 
 Cora at last determined to write to Mr. Hope, and posi 
 tively request him to remove her. She wrote an explicit 
 letter, which, out of the fullness of her confidence and re 
 liance, acquainted the old minister with the true reasons 
 upon which her special request was based. 
 
 She prudently determined to treat Cassel, if she could 
 so compel herself, with customary civility and considera 
 tion ; else, she might openly convict herself of being 
 incensed against him upon grounds too painfully per 
 sonal, and too near to her heart, ever to be admitted or 
 hinted of. 
 
 How very bleak and lonely Cora now felt, as she stood 
 in the vast world, an unconfirmed, unfathered child, rudely 
 roused up from a sweet and thrilling dream in which she 
 was just beginning to taste of the crystal, sparkling 
 waters for which she had so long and wearily thirsted. 
 She likened herself to the parched, desert-worn, sun- 
 smitten traveler, who, being led by deceptive fortune to a 
 bubbling fountain, is warned away from its delicious
 
 OR CORA GLENCOE. 345 
 
 coolness by the roar of the lion, or the hissing of the 
 deadly serpent. 
 
 But Cora, whose dicipline had been hard and stern, 
 locked within the stanch vaults of her breast the griefs 
 which clamored for free utterance, and suppressed with 
 steady fortitude her ever-rising, full-forced sobs. 
 
 Cassel, when Cora left him in a manner so inexplicable, 
 feared that she might have been seized with a sudden and 
 acute illness. He went to Linda and requested her to 
 follow the young girl and investigate the cause of her 
 strange departure. Linda went to Cora's room. Finding 
 the door locked, she tapped. 
 
 "Who is it?" 
 
 " Are you sick ?" asked Linda. 
 
 " No. Please do not come in, now." 
 
 " What is the matter, Cora ?" 
 
 " Nothing that need alarm you, I am busy." 
 
 Cora was writing to Mr. Hope. Linda returned to the 
 parlors and gave Cassel an account, sotto voce, of her non- 
 reception. Cassel was far from being satisfied. He knew 
 that Cora was acting under some extraordinary, painful 
 influence, and he watched for her return to the parlors 
 with much anxiety. But she did not come again that 
 evening. 
 
 Cassel did not sleep as well as usual the ensuing night, 
 and the next morning he was awake at daylight, thinking 
 and wildering about Cora. 
 
 When she came to breakfast, she answered to his- morn 
 ing salutation, but he saw in her eyes a sterile response 
 which he had never seen there before. She took occa 
 sion to withdraw from the breakfast-table while Cassel was 
 listening to Uncle Jesse's account of the wonderful extent 
 of the Russian Empire, and its wonderful progress in en 
 largement. 
 
 " What do you intend to do with your maps, Uncle 
 Jesse ?" 
 
 "Donate the copyright to American institutions of learn 
 ing." 
 
 " Upon what plan are you now working ?" 
 
 " My original plan. I have gathered all the different 
 maps which have ever been published, so far as I have
 
 346 TEKEL, 
 
 been able to get them. I have also the standard his 
 tories of the nations. Take the face of Europe, as an illus 
 tration. I have gone back to the mystic ages, and have 
 mapped out what appears to have been the first authenti 
 cated features and divisions. Whenever, by war, treaty, 
 or otherwise, a change has been made in the European 
 countenance, my maps will show it and give the corre 
 sponding date. And so on with other quarters of the 
 globe. You apprehend me Cassel, eh ?" 
 
 " I do. Down to what period have you finished your 
 atlantic and historical panorama?" 
 
 " To the time when Washington erected a free flag over 
 the soil of America," replied Uncle Jesse, with pompous 
 patriotism. 
 
 "An accurate, thorough work, such as you are engaged 
 upon, would be inestimable in value. It would take rank 
 with our most popular dictionary. No historian, scholar, 
 or institution of learning could afford to do without it." 
 
 Uncle Jesse was excessively gratified. Cassel had long 
 since won Uncle Jesse over. He spiced the old fellow's 
 life in numberless ways. He would take him on a drive, 
 to the minstrels, to the theater, to church, to the hotels, 
 to the shops, sail him on the bay or up the river, amuse 
 him with droll anecdotes, and put him at home in many 
 new positions Uncle Jesse was always ready to " run " 
 with Cassel, confiding everything to his consummate man 
 agement, believing, as he did, that Cassel was invincible 
 under any and all emergencies. 
 
 But Cassel was restless this morning, and, not relishing 
 his breakfast, he escaped from Uncle Jesse and went to 
 his room. 
 
 Cora, sitting alone in her room, received a card from 
 Cassel, on which he requested the privilege of seeing her. 
 She wrote a note in reply. 
 
 " Mr. Rapid will please excuse Miss Huron, who notifies 
 him that she will no longer tax him in the capacity of 
 guardian and mentor." 
 
 She folded the note, and sat awhile, holding it in her 
 hand, and tapping it with indecision. Finally she tore it 
 to pieces, saying to herself, 
 
 "What need to send this note ? I must remain in the
 
 OR CORA GLENCOE. 347 
 
 mansion for awhile, and an open rupture would make it 
 very unpleasant to Linda, who is so dear and good. But 
 Linda should know of this thing, and I will tell her of it, 
 but not until I bid her good-by. I will see Mr. Rapid. 
 Whatever he may secretly be or have been, his counsel 
 has been pure, and his kindness faultless." 
 
 Cora went down and met Cassel. With genuine interest 
 he inquired, 
 
 " Have you been sick, Cora ?" 
 
 " No," said she, almost shrinking from his gaze. 
 
 " What is it that has chilled you, have you heard bad 
 news?" 
 
 She could not keep her eyes from meeting his. Anxiety 
 lent additional tenderness and magic to his gaze, and Cora 
 irresistibly acknowledged to herself that his countenance 
 was indelibly stamped with honor. Cora quivered at 
 heart. Could this indeed be Lucifer, Son of the Morning, 
 glorious and magical with beauty, come to snare her soul 
 to ruin ? She felt her heart giving way, but her mind, 
 trained to strength and resistance, she maintained inflexi 
 ble. To his last question she answered as briefly -as be 
 fore, 
 "No." 
 
 After an hour, Cora left Cassel, feeling as though she 
 had been tried by fire. She had never been put and kept 
 so painfully upon the alert, lest she should betray herself. 
 Her very soul was ravished by his artless, artful, deep, 
 but baffled solicitude, and trembled upon the tremor of his 
 words. His first offerings and requisitions were ingenuous 
 and playful. Cora shied from them. He then charged 
 upon her with numberless persuasions, which trooped in 
 on her in squadron after squadron, but without apparent 
 effect. Next, from ambush, he sprang suddenly upon her 
 with quick questions, as soft and unforeseen as velvet 
 leopards leaping from the jungle covert. But Cora, in ad 
 vance, was armed to the lips against him. Whichever 
 way he turned he was met by an inflexible diamond edge. 
 Cassel elicited absolutely nothing ; but deduction taught 
 him that, for some unimaginable cause, his status with 
 Miss Huron was what it might reasonably be with a 
 spirited and exacting girl, to whom, under very unfavor-
 
 348 TEKEL, 
 
 able circumstances, he had just been introduced He was 
 conscious that the scepter had departed from him. That 
 his kingdom was successfully revolted against him. That 
 his gratifying and dulcet dominion over the waxing and 
 waning of a pure and priceless virgin, was at an end. But 
 why it was so, he in vain fathomed his heart and mind, 
 and questioned all his acts. 
 
 Two weeks passed away, and Cora was anxiously look 
 ing for an answer to the letter which she had dispatched 
 to Mr. Hope. Between herself and Cassel Rapid she 
 forced a tacit agreement that he should see to his own 
 affairs and she would see to hers. 
 
 Cassel, who intended and hoped that his abatement 
 would be but temporary, had also written to the old 
 minister, informing him that Cora had unaccountably 
 frozen herself up, and would not be melted ; and unless, 
 through Mr. Hope's influence, she could be induced to 
 explain or abandon the strange position she now insisted 
 upon maintaining, that he felt it to be his duty to notify 
 Mr. Hope to resume direct control of her, until he might 
 select some other suitable person to act in his stead, grant 
 ing that Cora continued to abide in the city. " She does 
 not particularly need a guardian here," wrote Cassel, "as 
 her conduct, except in the matter which necessitates this 
 advisement, is, as a rule, thoroughly well considered, and 
 well-nigh faultless. But it is better that there should be 
 some person, some approved gentleman, to whom she 
 could appeal in any case which to her might prove an 
 emergency." 
 
 Mr. Hope was abruptly and woefully confounded when 
 he received Cora's letter one day and Cassel's a day or 
 two after. 
 
 "What, in the name of David, does all this mean?" he 
 questioned of himself. " I wonder now if it is within the 
 outside limits of possibility that Cora is not the worst 
 mistaken little maid on earth ? Cassel a married man ! 
 an impostor ! his wife just deceased ! and he perfectly 
 contented withal ! Cora must be crazy. It is out of all 
 character. With all her advantages she does not yet 
 know Cassel as well as I do. As the sun shineth, so is it 
 clear to me that Cassel has never been in wedlock ; or,
 
 OR CORA GLENCOE. 349 
 
 granted that he has, the tomb of his wife would be the 
 temple of his affections. And now," continued the old 
 minister, with a touch of peevishness, "I shall have to 
 write up a quire of foolscap to set this matter to rights. 
 I'll do no such thing," asserted he, laughing complacently, 
 with the relief of a timely and welcome idea ; " but I'll 
 send Cora's letter to Cassel, and his to her, and let them 
 clear up the difficulty between them, without more ado. 
 Cora may not relish the process, but I know that it is a 
 thing of air which has alarmed her." 
 
 Mr. Hope was becoming very infirm, and it would have 
 been quite a task for him to have conducted a correspond 
 ence which promised to be both voluminous and intricate ; 
 so he very wisely determined to make a double-barreled 
 cross-fire, and kill the difficulty at a simultaneous dis 
 charge. If he was not intending to do conventionally 
 right, he cannot be accused of intending to do wrong in 
 thus exposing Cora's letter to Cassel's perusal, not to 
 mention Cassel's letter, which he would consign to Cora. 
 He regarded them as mere children, and most old peoj-'e 
 are apt to forget or ignore the incipient punctilio of youth 
 ful modesty and unblunted sensibility. Mr. Hope, there 
 fore, conscientiously cross-fired the letters, without a word 
 of explanation, except the scoring on the margin of each, 
 " If this does not settle it, write me again." 
 
 The same mail-bag brought back the redestined letters. 
 Cassel was not in his room when Cora's written and ex 
 plicit arraignment, under cover of Mr. Hope's envelope, 
 was left conspicuously upon his writing-desk. 
 
 Cassel's letter, via Mr. Hope, was received by Cora, 
 who read it with avidity. Her first thought was, that 
 here was something about Cassel which had fallen into the 
 hand's of the old minister, and with which the latter desired 
 to acquaint her, something that would convict Cassel. It 
 did not occur to her to consider that the letter was written 
 by Cassel intentionally for Mr. Hope's eye, and that what 
 ever confessions or exposures it might contain were, in actu, 
 et in rerum naturd, voluntary. At the first glance she 
 conceived it to be a stray letter picked up by Mr. Hope, 
 containing a damaging evolution of heretofore undeveloped 
 facts in Cassel's historv, which her old guardian deemed 
 
 30
 
 350 TEKEL, 
 
 proper to lay before her. Having read the letter, however, 
 she became mystified, and wondered why the minister had 
 adopted so strange a method for satisfying her petition. 
 And yet she was pleased with the contents of Cassel's 
 communication. It evinced for her a correct and anxious 
 care, and an unembittered spirit of self-abnegation, tinged 
 with sadness ; but was greatly at fault, as Cora judged, 
 with regard to herself and " his inability to conjecture, or 
 hatch out from a prolific and busy imagination, any cause 
 or motive under the sun for her singular behavior." 
 
 When she met Cassel at the dinner-table, she vouch 
 safed to him the least bit more of kindness than of late ; 
 but still held herself distinctly aloof from anything like 
 intimacy. 
 
 After dinner, when Cassel went to his room mentally dis 
 cussing the propriety of, in some way, constraining Cora 
 to state her grievances, that he might meet and annihilate 
 them, he saw a new letter on his writing-desk. He recog 
 nized the ministerial characters of Mr. Hope, and, having 
 torn the envelope and unfolded the inclosure, as readily 
 recognized the delicate tracery of Cora Glencoe. He saw 
 that the letter, or whatever it might be, was addressed to 
 Mr. Hope. Turning to the signature, he read, " Cora." 
 
 " Here is some mistake," said he ; and, getting up, he 
 went and tapped at Cora's door. She opened it, and 
 started with surprise as she saw Cassel Rapid. He 
 bowed, and, handing her the document which he still held 
 unfolded, said, 
 
 " Cora, here is an errant something which I wish to 
 return to its original starting-point." 
 
 She took it, glanced at it, and almost sank upon her 
 knees. 
 
 " Cora," said Cassel, firhily but tenderly, " what is it 
 that ails or afflicts you ? You certainly are possessed of 
 some terrible or annoying mistake, and yet you resolutely 
 withhold all confidence from your friends. You are doing 
 both yourself and your friends great injustice. Have 
 you not the nerve to confront me, or Linda, with your 
 troubles, or, if such, your hardships?" 
 
 Cora did not answer him, but putting her hand into 
 her dress pocket, drew out a letter, and handing it to him, 
 s*id,
 
 OR CORA GLENCOE. 351 
 
 " I, too, have something of yours, Mr. Rapid." 
 
 "How did you get it?" asked Cassel, in surprise. 
 
 "By mail from Mr. Hope." 
 
 Cora reflected a moment and then asked, 
 
 " What have you to say to the contents of my letter ?" 
 
 " I know nothing about its contents. I have not read 
 a word of it." 
 
 " Mr. Rapid, is that true ?" 
 
 Cassel would rather that a thunderbolt had fallen upon 
 him than for Cora to have asked a question which plunged 
 like a bitter shaft down into his heart. The wide es 
 trangement which was implied in her cruel question reaped 
 his tender-springing hopes down to the very stubble, and 
 a frown gathered to his brow as black as the loaded cloud. 
 Cora remembered no countenance as expressive or intense, 
 except that corrugated, blazing face which, once upon a 
 time, gleamed over the shallow sea down by the Larboard 
 Strand. Cora repented. She hastily and earnestly cried, 
 
 " Nay, forgive me, Mr. Rapid, I will not insult you 
 with such a question. I am the guilty one, for, I am 
 ashamed to confess, I have read your letter a dozen 
 times;" and Cora hung her head while her pure cheeks 
 blushed scarlet. Finally, Cora looked up into his face 
 and said, 
 
 " Mr. Rapid ?" 
 
 "Well?" asked he, with an expression half curious, 
 half smiling. 
 
 " Has it occurred to you that Mr. Hope intended that 
 each of us should read the other's letter?" 
 
 " It has, since I have just learned that he has returned 
 them both and crosswise." 
 
 "See here," said Cora; "on the margin of my letter 
 are the words, in his handwriting, ' If this does not settle 
 it, write me again.' I find the same words on the margin 
 of yours." 
 
 " What then do you propose ?" 
 
 "In consideration of the fact that I have read your 
 letter, I offer mine for you to read. Having done so, re 
 turn it to me. I will then, with Linda, meet you below, 
 in the rear parlor." 
 
 Cora felt that now was the auspicious time for dispos-
 
 352 TEKEL, 
 
 ing of Cassel Rapid. He took the letter and went to his 
 room. When he had finished it and re-read it, he was in 
 one sense more mystified than before. How could Cora 
 ever have conceived or imagined that he had been married 
 and was an impostor! Notwithstanding his mystification, 
 he felt a world of weight lifted from his breast. Here, 
 then, was the germ of his trouble, and the occasion for 
 Cora's chillness. He would go down into the very sub 
 strata, and drag the thing up by the roots whatever it 
 might be. He proceeded to the rear parlor and notified 
 Cora that he was ready to receive her and Linda. The 
 two girls soon entered, and sat down. Linda had noticed 
 that there was something wrong between Cora and her 
 brother Cassel, but she little knew the beginning or the 
 extent of the alienation. Cassel met them with a smile, 
 as open, and pleasant, and triumphant as ever came upon 
 the face of man. As the interview between Cassel and 
 Cora progressed, Linda looked on and listened with 
 wonder. 
 
 " So," said Cassel to Cora, " you regard me as an im 
 postor, do you ?" 
 
 " If you are not, I trust that you will be able clearly 
 .to prove it," replied Cora, firmly. 
 
 " Tell me," said Cassel, "from what unknown world of 
 ideas you have gathered this most singular idea of all." 
 
 " I come here," said Cora, " from no motive born of cu 
 riosity to pry into your life-history; but as Mr. Hope has 
 referred this matter back to its sources, it becomes my duty 
 and exigency to cut our communication, and in future to 
 take care of myself. For Linda's sake, I will tell you 
 plainly why it is that henceforth I choose to be freed from 
 any authority which heretofore I have, for good reasons, 
 acknowledged and willingly submitted to. Accident put 
 me in possession of a fact, in the concealment of which 
 you ha/e been unmanly, and so far criminally distinct 
 from honorable custom as to justify the impeachment of 
 your moral integrity. I will state to Linda, that very re 
 cently I saw you, with a smile on your countenance, and 
 with after-comments as heartless and ruthless as stone, 
 read a telegram announcing unmistakably the death of 
 your wife. I speak now in that frankness which you have
 
 OR CORA GLEN COB. 353 
 
 so often coveted. Linda," said Cora, turning to the girl- 
 widow with an eye of superlative interrogation, " did you 
 ever dream of such a thing ?" 
 
 Linda came near to fainting, and looked to Cassel with 
 a wild, thrilling appeal that he should purge himself of this 
 strange and damaging accusation. Cassel, who had been 
 standing up, put his hands to his face and shuddered down 
 into a chair, overwhelmed with this terrible and unex 
 pected revelation. His breast heaved, and he shook with 
 the active shame and ignominy of detection, was it ? No; 
 but with a full jolly-boat load of suppressed laughter, until 
 finally he broke out with a contagious carol, as ringing as 
 the notes of a silver trumpet. Cora started to leave the 
 room. 
 
 " Please wait a moment, Cora," cried Cassel, with a joy 
 ous, mischievous face ; " I understand it all, now, and can 
 demolish this monster in a twinkling." 
 
 Cora resumed her seat. Cassel drew out a ring of keys, 
 selected one, gave it to Linda, and said, 
 
 " Little sister, will you do brother Cassel the favor to go 
 up to his room, that there may be no suspicion about the 
 matter, open the red leather trunk at the foot of the bed, 
 look in the left hand far corner of the tray, and bring down 
 a package marked in red ink, ' Chicago Dispatches ?' I 
 am interested in some beef and grain contracts out there. 
 Those contracts are my wives. One of them is just de 
 ceased, that is, a contract has proved bad, as wives often 
 do, and has been suffered to die." 
 
 " Mr Rapid, I would prefer to go now, and you can ex 
 plain to Linda." 
 
 " No, Cora. You have confronted me with an accusa 
 tion ; you must needs confront my exculpation. And 
 furthermore, I'm going to wind this thing up in a frolic, 
 I never felt so saucy in all my life." 
 
 It began to steal in upon Cora that she had put her foot 
 into it up to the ankle. She was very anxious to beat a 
 retreat, but Cassel wouldn't let her. Her joy, however, 
 equiponderated her confusion, for it would be as joyful as 
 it would be shameful to her far more joyful if Cassel 
 should prove innocent, as he now seemed able to do. 
 
 30*
 
 354 TEKEL, 
 
 Linda soon came back with the package of dispatches. 
 Cassel took it and said, 
 
 " Cora, you may act as judge, jury, and prosecuting at 
 torney ; but I think that before I am done, you will dismiss 
 the suit, or at least enter a nolle prosequi." 
 
 Cassel handed one dispatch after another to Linda, in 
 the order of their dates, and Linda read them to Cora. It 
 appeared from these dispatches that Cassel had been mar 
 ried almost as often as the Sultan ; that some of his wives 
 had died, some were yet thriving, and, strange to say, some 
 who had died seemed to have been relumed by the Prome 
 thean heat of a little, extra, smelted, precious metal. 
 
 "What jn the name of goodness does it all mean?" 
 asked Linda, her large, soft eyes looking wonderingly at 
 Cassel. 
 
 " It means that I am a Brigham Bluebeard, looking out 
 for another victim to follow in the train of those several 
 wives whom you have just read about." 
 
 Cora, in utter confusion, but still with boundless secret 
 gladness, ran out of the room. She was not yet at the 
 bottom of the matter, but she was certain that Cassel was 
 a live young bachelor, and that she, to use her own words, 
 was " most essentially a live young fool." Up in her room 
 she stormed at herself, before her mirror, 
 
 " You illimitable and unmentionable little fool you 1" 
 she cried at herself, while she stamped the floor with vig 
 orous foot. "Pshaw! I almost wish I was wicked enough 
 to swear. I have heard men say, that, at times, nothing 
 but a round of hearty swearing would empty them of their 
 feelings. I feel just that way now ; and if I wasn't afraid, 
 I'd ring it at you, you goose ! Don't you look at me /" 
 she almost shouted at her reflection in the mirror ; " I've 
 no patience with you. " 
 
 Cora was as fidgety, and as serio-comic, as ever was 
 Lotta upon the public stage. We will return to Cassel 
 and Linda. 
 
 " But what does it mean ?" asked the bewildered Linda. 
 
 " It is one side of a commercial, telegraphic correspond 
 ence. I will explain it to you." 
 
 Is it necessary to explain to the reader also ? If so, it 
 can be done by substituting " wheat" for " wife," or, for
 
 OR CORA GLENCOE. 355 
 
 the dear creature, you can substitute "beef cattle." But 
 an explanation can best be given by referring to numerous 
 dispatches of like facial import which passed from the City 
 of Washington to the ,city of New York during the late 
 war, when gold gamblers kept foxy agents in the capital 
 city, as newspapers kept correspondents there, to nose 
 around and smell out the very freshest item, and then run 
 frantically to a telegraph office and send it off by a flash 
 of lightning, substituting " wife" and wife's afflictions, for 
 the Federal army and its vicissitudes. No official watch- 
 hawk, placed to guard the wires and embargo their tell 
 tale capacity, could decently refuse the transit of a dispatch 
 notifying an anxious husband of an event so melancholy 
 and tax-free as the death of a darling wife, but would cer 
 tainly and absolutely light his pipe with all such dispatch 
 slips as might, for instance, prematurely convey news of 
 the defeat of McClellan, or Hooker, or Pope, or Meade, or 
 Burnside, the latter of whom a certain bold song sings out 
 to be a " clever fellow." A man who was so fortunate as 
 to be located in New York, and to possess an espoused 
 myth in Washington City or its environs, whose patriot 
 ism and sympathy caused her pulses to wax and wane 
 with the successes and reverses of the Federal arms, and 
 whose symptoms, like the finger of a barometer, warned 
 the desolate husband in advance of a storm (of good or 
 bad news), before the stormlike reverberations had reached 
 Wall Street, such a man, we say, was well-nigh sure of an 
 oft-recurring gold crop. It was a good thing in those days 
 for a manipulator of Gold to have a tremendously vicissi- 
 tudinous wife in Washington City. 
 
 Cassel was engaged in no gambling operations, but he 
 and Mr. Lake were, with a large capital, successfully com 
 peting with a presumptive monopoly, and, to guard against 
 their prying rivals, and against telegraphic treachery, the 
 commercial lightning which came to Cassel from the West, 
 sometimes told remarkable tales on his " wife," or his 
 "uncle," or his " grandmother." The dispatch which Cora 
 had seen, and which had announced to Cassel the death 
 of his wife, was a mere notification, from an agent, of the 
 unfruitfulness of one of his commercial and least-favored 
 spouses.
 
 356 TEKEL, 
 
 Cora felt as if she never could face Cassel Rapid again, 
 and yet she determined to face him at the first opportunity. 
 All her confidence in him was back again, and augmented. 
 Notwithstanding she was conscious of having acted from 
 proper motives and upon apparently sufficient grounds, she 
 could not forbear storming at herself as an "illimitable 
 little fool." She met Cassel before nightfall, and found 
 him as joyful as Spring, and as lively as a volume of wit. 
 
 " But why did you not tell me, or accuse me, sooner ?" 
 he asked of Cora. 
 
 " Because I thought you were a monster," she laughed. 
 
 " Cora, would you like for me to tell Harry Gray about 
 this exquisite complication ?" 
 
 "Tell nobody," she cried, with pleading, mischievous 
 eyes. "Linda has already promised me." 
 
 " Do you think it possible for two girls and one man to 
 keep a secret ?" 
 
 " Til never tell it," answered Cora ; " Linda will never 
 tell it : so, sir, if it escapes, you will be the responsible 
 party." 
 
 " Personally responsible ?" 
 
 " Yes ; ' personally responsible,' as the braggarts say." 
 
 " I have yet to see the brace of girls whom I fear ; but I 
 already know a brace of them to be loved," said Cassel, 
 adroitly. 
 
 "And I," said Cora, " know of a similar brace of quails, 
 in the forest at Creswood. They would make such a 
 nice morning lunch," and Cora ran away to her own 
 room. 
 
 Cora was again at ease and happy. When we say 
 " happy," we do not mean that she never reflected upon 
 her condition, for she very often did so. But she was 
 much more charmingly surrounded than, of yore, she had 
 ever been. As a tender flower which has struggled up 
 through storm and gloom will, if transplanted into sunny 
 soil, lift up its head and repay the floral nurse with vigor 
 ous and fragrant evolution, so Cora, coming out of the 
 dismal den of Cliff Hall, and into the genial atmosphere 
 of the Boyd mansion, felt as reinforced as the newly-nour 
 ished flower which opens and courts the nostril or the bee, 
 and as blithe as the sunny bee which ravishes the opened
 
 OR CORA GLENCOE. 357 
 
 flower. What girl, naturally teeming with all the elements 
 of joy, and possessing a mind, healthy, firm, and elastic as 
 a Toledo blade, could have been otherwise than chiefly 
 happy, we do not say contented, situated as Cora was ? 
 In addition to all other bright things immediately around 
 her, she was in that blissful, ravishing, and unreturning 
 state which comes but once upon the fresh heart and 
 whispers " Eureka," the finding of the very thing to love. 
 During her late interview with Cassel, that in which he 
 had vainly endeavored to capture or expose her motives, 
 and out of which she had come as from a fiery furnace, 
 she had more than one time imagined, that if he was 
 actually a monster, then were all men monsters, and that 
 he was the most brilliant and fascinating monster of them 
 all. Fronting him with an outward stoicism which baffled 
 his eye, she nevertheless had felt him pillaging through 
 all the sacred places of her heart, like an active chieftain 
 of Free Lances sweeping through a city, and laying a 
 dominant hand upon its citadel, its shrines, and all its 
 hallowed spots. If Cassel was so strong with Cora in 
 the character of Lucifer, how glorious and conquering 
 would he be, as the radiant Apollo, prince of the blonde 
 Day? 
 
 Johnny Gale was getting along with Linda so well that 
 it began to be pleasant with her for Cora and brother Cas 
 sel to tease her about him. 
 
 The last letter which Johnny had written to his father, 
 after having hinted at his " ambition " in very ambiguous 
 terms, closed with the following characteristic words: 
 " Now, father, I think I've struck oil, and I want a couple 
 of hundred to test the well. That is, I must be fashion 
 able in the cut of my coat, and keep up with the tailors. 
 You will reflect, father, that a spider without a web would 
 stand a frosty poor chance of catching flies." 
 
 Captain Gale and his wife held a consultation over the 
 letter of their "wild boy," which eventuated in Captain 
 Gale sending Johnny the wherewithal to weave his web. 
 But he tookthe fatherly precaution to write to Carroll May, 
 and inquire what it was that Johnny was driving at. 
 
 " He'll go and tangle his hawser with some loon of a girl,
 
 358 TEKEL, 
 
 like as not, and think that she is a born and bred princess," 
 observed Captain Gale to his wife. 
 
 Carroll May replied to Captain Gale's letter, but referred 
 to Cassel Rapid that particular portion of it inquiring about 
 Johnny's " ambition." 
 
 Cassel wrote a spicy communication to Captain Gale, 
 giving a good, though amusing account of Johnny's court 
 ship, and satisfying the parents that, in the matter of his 
 " ambition," Johnny was no fool by a fathom. " Mrs. Boyd, 
 who, with equal propriety, might be called Miss Linda 
 Medley, is," wrote Cassel, "just such a girl as I imagine 
 Mrs. Gale was, at Linda's age, and promises to make just 
 such another excellent lady- woman." 
 
 " I don't ask any better, Sallie," emphatically spoke out 
 Captain Gale, as he read the letter aloud to his wife. Mrs. 
 Gale's motherly and still handsome face rippled with smiles 
 at this double compliment to herself, and at this cheering 
 and undoubted testimony confirming Johnny's good discre 
 tion and probable good luck. 
 
 "Wife," said the gratified captain, having finished read 
 ing the letter, " I think I'll send Johnny a couple of hun 
 dred more. It's well enough to help him along a little 
 when he is disposed to do a good thing, and both Cassel 
 and Carroll say that he spends his money judiciously 
 though freely." 
 
 "Just as he should spend it," responded the mother. 
 " And nobody has a better right to furnish it than you 
 have, for you made it yourself. But let me read Cassel's 
 letter over again." 
 
 When Mrs. Gale had gone over it herself, she observed, 
 complacently, 
 
 " I never read a more pleasant letter in all my life." 
 
 " Cassel knows how and where to launch his compli 
 ments," said Captain Gale humorously. " Now, he knew 
 it wouldn't be worth his time to try and honey-fuggle me, 
 the young rascal." But the captain was honey- fuggled, 
 nevertheless; for in Cassel's comparison was a retroactive 
 compliment which flattered the rugged mariner's youthful 
 good taste and discretion. 
 
 By way of dismissing, for the time, the subject of Mat 
 rimony, and winding up this chapter, we will peep in upon
 
 OR CORA GLENCOE. 359 
 
 Uncle Jesse and Cassel Rapid, who are engaged in a con 
 fidential conversation. In fact, all of Uncie Jesse's con 
 versations were confidential. 
 
 " Uncle Jesse, why didn't you marry ?" asked Cassel. 
 
 " Why didn't I ! You mean why don't I, eh, Cassel ?" 
 suggested the old man, straightening up his collar. 
 
 " Well yes didn't I say donH ?" asked Cassel, adroitly. 
 
 "Yes, you didn't," maladroitly replied Uncle Jesse. 
 
 " Well, why don't you, then ?" 
 
 "Because, Cassel," said the old man, with an invinci 
 ble, harsh, testy look, " I stand no nonsense." 
 
 " But would it be nonsense, Uncle Jesse, to persuade 
 some charming woman to become Mrs. Jesse Medley, 
 who would tap you lovingly on the cheek, and beat up 
 the bed for you ?" 
 
 " A-hem Cassel don't mention it. Before I could 
 turn around three times I'd have a trundle-bed full of 
 brats, and an everlasting caterwaul and nursery pot-pourri 
 ringing and raging and dinging and damnably donging in 
 my ears. No, sir, one Medley in my establishment is 
 the complement exact. My grandfather Moore had just 
 thirty-three and ^ children. The ^ child was a deaf and 
 dumb idiot, his last, and, by-the-by, his favorite, for it 
 slept three-fourths of its time, and when it was awake it 
 made no more noise than an expeditionary mouse. The 
 old gentleman advised me, if ever I should be fool enough 
 to marry, to search me out a free-martin ha ! ha ! h-a ! eh, 
 Cassel ?" 
 
 "Marry the Moon, Uncle Jesse. You will then be 
 Platonically safe," laughed Cassel, who abandoned the 
 incorrigible old bachelor.
 
 360 TEKEL, 
 
 CHAPTER XXXIII. 
 
 TIME passed smoothly away, Spring came and went, 
 leaving in its train the delightful month of June, through 
 which our narrative must now plow. The mornings were 
 bland, and the days were quiet ; everything in the Boyd 
 mansion was quiet, except two or three busy, throbbing 
 young hearts ; everything at Creswood was quiet, except 
 Oswald Huron ; and all along the Potomac of our little 
 history, quiet chiefly reigned. 
 
 Cassel Rapid went around to O'Dare's office. O'Dare 
 was away in Philadelphia. " Could the clerk give him 
 any Huron news ?" The clerk " could not." 
 
 " Are you not a new hand here ?" asked Cassel of the 
 clerk. 
 
 "No." 
 
 " Do you remember me, then ?" 
 
 " I do not, we see so many people." 
 
 "Were you in the office one day when O'Dare and I 
 had a wrestling match ?" 
 
 The clerk smiled, and answered, 
 
 " I recollect you now ; Mr. Rapid, is it not ?" 
 
 "Yes." 
 
 " You were interested in the case of let's see whom ?" 
 
 " Huron, I told you when I first came in." 
 
 " Are you prime in the case ?" 
 
 "How?" 
 
 " Number one first principal ?" 
 
 "Yes, that is, I am acting for myself." 
 
 " About what is the date of your application ?"., 
 
 " You are so very special," said Cassel, " that I imagine 
 I had better wait until O'Dare returns. When will that 
 be?" 
 
 "Don't know." 
 
 " What do you know ? A nything ?" 
 
 "Nothing."
 
 OR CORA GLENCOE. 361 
 
 " This is a regular know-nothing office when O'Dare 
 is out of it," said Cassel. 
 
 "Just so," answered the smiling clerk. 
 
 "Maybe you'd like to tussle a round or two?" said 
 Cassel. " Possibly I could bang something out of you." 
 
 " No objection to it in the world," promptly replied the 
 clerk. "Just walk this way, into a back room, and I'll 
 try you one fall, if it kills me." 
 
 Cassel had only intended to rally the clerk a little, but 
 now that his banter was accepted he could not well back 
 out. He followed the clerk into a rear apartment where 
 the floor was carpeted. 
 
 " You pick a soft place I observe," said Cassel. " You 
 probably anticipate a fall ?" 
 
 "I don't wish to break your bones," answered the 
 clerk. " But what ' holt' do you prefer ?" 
 
 "I'm not particular." 
 
 " Nor I," retorted the clerk; " but wait until I take off 
 my coat and watch." 
 
 " Take your shirt off, for all I care," said Cassel, who 
 had already determined to turn the clerk a double-and- 
 twisted summerset. 
 
 The office-man quickly stripped himself of more than 
 his coat and watch, and to Cassel's unbounded astonish 
 ment O'Dare stood before him in propria persona! 
 
 " The Devil!" cried Cassel, surprised into an absurdity. 
 
 " Whist," softly replied the detective. 
 
 "What!" cried Cassel, still in amazement. 
 
 " Just so," admitted O'Dare, " but not so loud." 
 
 " What are you up to ?" 
 
 " It's not up, it's down." 
 
 " Down where ?" 
 
 " Into ' hell'. " 
 
 " What do you want down there ? to take lodgings in 
 advance ? That's not fair, old fellow," said Cassel, drolly. 
 
 " I've got to go down there to-night after a trinket, and 
 I've been trying my disguise all day to see if it is proof." 
 
 "Well?" 
 
 " Not a soul has recognized me." 
 
 " Put it on again, and let me look at you." 
 31
 
 362 TEKEL, 
 
 O'Dare resumed his disguise, and demanded, 
 
 "Now." 
 
 " O'Dare, I would never know you, unless possibly by 
 your eyes. I was as much surprised just now as though 
 you had risen from the grave-yard." 
 
 O'Dare turned about, took a vial from a pigeon-hole, 
 sprinkled from it a yellow powder into his palm, and then 
 rubbed some of the powder in his eyes. Soon his eyes 
 became bloodshot, and the last twinkling vestige of his 
 original appearance was destroyed. 
 
 "Don't that hurt?" asked Cassel. 
 
 "It smarts a little; but I am occasionally under the 
 necessity of using it." 
 
 " How long does the effect last ?" 
 
 "Well, half an hour or so; but I carry it like snuff in 
 my vest pocket, and can renew it at will and without de 
 tection." 
 
 " Now, O'Dare, about Huron vs. Huron ?" 
 
 " I'm on another trail in that interest." 
 
 " What are the prospects ?" 
 
 " They fluctuate just as I succeed or fail." 
 
 " What sort of a trail is it ?" 
 
 " I am tracing a positive daguerreotype with which to 
 confront a negative one." 
 
 " A shadow," said Cassel. 
 
 "A shadow which, if I can catch it, I engage to trans 
 form into a luminary, under whose light Miss Huron's 
 lineage will stand out in bold and undeniable characters, 
 so that she, or her anxious lover, can read her title clear." 
 
 " I hope you will succeed," said Cassel. " Meantime I 
 will not be overinquisitive." 
 
 " A very discreet conclusion," replied O'Dare, who, after 
 a moment's reflection, asked, " Rapid, are you cool ?" 
 
 " No. I'm rather warm," answered Cassel, who thought 
 that O'Dare was facetiously alluding to his somewhat 
 heavy woolen coat. 
 
 "I don't mean caloric," said O'Dare. "Have you a 
 good, sound nerve ?" 
 
 "I'm healthy, if that answer suits you." 
 
 " If a dangerous and desperate desperado (to be super 
 lative by way of tautology)," said O'Dare, "after an ex-
 
 OR CORA GLENCOE. 363 
 
 citing interlocutory controversy, should come at you with 
 a drawn knife to cut your heart out, but by some good for 
 tune was prevented from entering upon his well-intended 
 enterprise, could you, immediately after your peril was 
 passed, sit down and write, without a shaky hand, a note 
 to your sweetheart, inviting her to the juicy joys of a 
 strawberry festival ?" 
 
 "That would depend somewhat upon the season." 
 
 " Say that strawberries were ripe." 
 
 "Well, I imagine I could, almost; but not having 
 tried it I can't positively say." 
 
 " Again," said O'Dare ; " are you grateful ?" 
 
 " Yes ; but not beyond a double return for an original 
 favor. If a man should assist me to pull my boots off, for 
 instance, I wouldn't be willing to set him up in the boot 
 and shoe business, and bolster him every time he might 
 be likely to fail. Gratitude has a limit, as well as pa 
 tience." 
 
 " But don't you, when you come to reflect, after you go 
 to bed, without having said your prayers, don't you con 
 sider yourself resting under some unrequited obligations 
 to Hector O'Dare ?" 
 
 " Well, yes, I can answer that question without the 
 reflection implied in it." 
 
 " Would you not, then, like to lighten those obligations 
 by doing him a service ?" 
 
 " I don't know but I would ; but quit your hyperbolical 
 and diabolical rhetoric, and bring yourself down to the 
 preciseness of a financial budget; I then may be able to 
 divine your meaning." 
 
 " Very good. I am going down into ' hell' to-night, 
 and, I want you to go with me." 
 
 " That is demanding too much even of the most active 
 or morbid gratitude. But tell me of your expedition and 
 its object." 
 
 " I wish to steal a ring from the finger of the Devil. 
 Some of aiy understrappers are away, and among all that 
 I can command, I do not know of one who has the nerve 
 to go with me, and the quick discretion to do the exigeant 
 thing." 
 
 " I'm not contracting for the performance of any exigeant
 
 364 TEKEL, 
 
 feats just at present. But can't you dash a chunk of ice 
 at the Devil and freeze him out ?" 
 
 "To be plain, Rapid, if you are so disposed, you can do 
 me a favor by coming with me to-night. You have heard 
 of cutting vessels out from under a battery. I wish to 
 cut a man out from the dangerous precincts of a den, with 
 out making too much noise about it. At all events I wish 
 to form his acquaintance in my present disguise." 
 
 ' Why don't you call on the regular police ?" 
 
 " Regular deuce, they are boobies." 
 
 " Can't the New York police arrest a single man ?" 
 
 " Yes, and spoil my game, perhaps. In this nest I 
 have eggs which hatch me out a stingeree every now and 
 then. I don't wish to break up the nest, only to rob it 
 of a fledgeling." 
 
 " What do you want with the man after you get him ?" 
 
 " I don't particularly want the carcass, but something 
 which I suspect to be in the clothes-pockets of the carcass." 
 
 " Is there no way of getting it without going down into 
 Pluto's dominions ?" 
 
 " Money will get it, but I won't have it that way, not 
 even if 1 could buy it for a cent. My professional pride 
 and standing are involved, and I must all-wise fail before 
 I resort to money." 
 
 " O'Dare, I thought you were a prudent man." 
 
 " Prudent ! By Jupiter, I am exercising the very acme 
 of prudence. Don't you know that if I suffer myself to be 
 blackmailed once, I lose prestige with my friends, the 
 rogues and evil-doers, and that every devil of them would 
 try it on me ? When I am after a wretch I never com 
 promise with him, though I am often constrained to suborn 
 some of his pals." 
 
 "You use one rogue to catch another." 
 
 " I set A to catch B to-day, and to-morrow I reverse 
 the eccentric and set B to catching A." 
 
 " It is a poor rule that won't reciprocate in its work 
 ings," said Cassel. "But which am I to consider myself, 
 your A or your B ?" 
 
 " You are my Bee, if you will be, whom I intend to 
 put into the nose of the Bruin who is stealing your 
 honey."
 
 OR CORA GLENCOE. 365 
 
 11 My honey ! What interest have I in your Bruin ?" 
 
 " I shall not tell you until the job is over ; but you are 
 interested, I assure you." 
 
 " O'Dare," said Cassel, "you have taken the pains to 
 bottle me up ; now you can uncork me or not, as you will. 
 But, be it remembered, I never do anything or go any 
 where unless I know the reason why. I intended to go 
 with you, on the score of your past services, and on a piece 
 of business strictly your own. But now that, you have 
 brought me in as an interested party, I will not budge an 
 inch until you tell me explicitly wherein I am interested. 
 I have a right to know, so that, when in action, my own 
 judgment may be the ready fountain and mainspring of 
 ray acts." 
 
 " Rapid, did I make such terms with you when, in your 
 interests, I went down upon the Larboard Strand ?" 
 
 Cassel's eyes flamed, and his face grew hot with rushing 
 blood. Getting up and fronting O'Dare, he stretched out 
 bis right arm, and in a voice which cut its way to the 
 hedged heart of the detective, said, 
 
 " May the arm wither when it ceases to serve you ! 
 Come, I will go down into the bottomless pit with you, 
 and never ask a question as to my errand. If you have 
 war to make, let it be war, red-hot and up to the very 
 hilt. If I flinch, may all the heavens on high come down 
 and dash me to pieces I" 
 
 O'Dare, with some regret, saw that he had sent a bolt 
 of fire into Cassel's inmost soul. It had not been his 
 thought so thoroughly to electrify him. Rather gently, 
 he said, 
 
 " Sit down, Rapid. You are entitled to more confidence 
 in this matter than I have admitted or bestowed. It is 
 true, as you first contended, that if you go with me you 
 should precisely know what you are to act upon. I will 
 now precisely inform you, and leave you to judge whether 
 or not you are an interested or sympathizing party. So. 
 When I discovered that Maria Guthrie was dead, I went 
 to see Neville Huron ; he was disheartened, and so was 
 I. Nosing about for a new trail, I learned that he had 
 preserved the clothes which were upon the infant when it 
 
 31*
 
 366 TEKEL, 
 
 fell over the bluff; also a locket that was about the little 
 thing's neck. 
 
 " ' But,' said he, ' they were dressed exactly alike, and 
 wore lockets which could not have been distinguished the 
 one from the other.' 
 
 " ' Did the lockets contain anything?' I asked. 
 
 " ' Each contained a miniature of myself,' said he. 
 
 " ' What style of miniature ?' 
 
 " ' They were daguerreotypes.' 
 
 " ' Taken at the same time ?' 
 
 "'No. The miniature in my child's locket was taken 
 first. I sat for it. About a week afterward, when I was 
 on the eve of visiting my brother Oswald, I had a copy 
 taken from the original, and incased it in a locket similar 
 to my own child's locket.' 
 
 " ' And the copy you gave to your brother's child ?' 
 
 "'Yes.' 
 
 " ' One of these daguerreotypes,' said I, 'was a negative 
 and the other a positive. Now, can you prove in any 
 way which one it was that you gave to your brother's 
 child ?' 
 
 " ' I can, by some old family servants, who were really 
 more interested in the trinkets at the time than I was. I 
 can also prove by them the battered locket which came 
 back to me hanging to the neck of the little corpse. They 
 have seen it often. The plate of the miniature is bent, 
 the result of the little one's terrible fall over the cliff's 
 side.' 
 
 " ' How have you been accustomed to part your hair?' 
 
 " ' On the left side.' 
 
 '"All your life?' 
 
 "' Yes, since I was grown.' 
 
 "'Now, Mr. Huron,' said I, 'the proof is at hand. If 
 the head in the battered locket which you have here, parts 
 the hair on the left side, it is the copy which you gave to 
 your brother's child, and that child, to a demonstrated cer 
 tainty, lies buried in your vaults ; and the living one, Cora, 
 now in New York, is, to a demonstrated certainty, your 
 daughter.' 
 
 " ' Have you ever entertained any doubt of it ?' asked he. 
 
 " ' No,' said I, ' but a certain Maryland court has. If
 
 OR CORA GLENCOE. 367 
 
 you prove up this locket by unimpeachable testimony, the 
 court is bound to be with you, and your daughter becomes 
 your own. Go get the locket and let me see it.' 
 
 " He brought me the locket. The hair was parted on the 
 left side, and the whole trinket peculiarly battered so as to 
 be very distinguishable. I then gave him my opinions as 
 to his best mode of procedure, and came away to New 
 York. Now, Cassel, the sequel to this conference between 
 myself and Neville Huron is almost enough to discourage 
 even Hector O'Dare. Every time I roll the wheel of Cora's 
 fortunes up the hill of difficulty, Neville Huron manages to 
 roll it down again. What damnable fool's work do you 
 suppose he made of it after I left him ? Still confiding, it 
 seems, in his brother's sense of justice; he took the locket, 
 went down to Creswood, stated the case to Oswald Huron, 
 showed him the locket, and begged him to abandon his 
 claim. Oswald Huron requested a couple of days for de 
 liberation. Meantime he secretly went off and consulted 
 with a villainous lawyer who is popularly known as the 
 rider of a nag called ' Famine ;' and the upshot was that 
 the locket was stolen from Neville Huron before the two 
 days expired. Oswald Huron then bid his brother bitter 
 defiance, and cunningly wrote to little Cora, here in New 
 York, to send him, as a souvenir, the other locket, which 
 she had fondly preserved. Innocently she sent it to him. 
 The rider of ' Famine,' specifically designated as Mr. At 
 torney, having learned the value and l:earing of the locket 
 which had been stolen from Neville Huron, managed to 
 get possession of it. He is a professional black-mailer, 
 and considered the stolen locket as an egg which would 
 hatch out wealth. But he could do nothing with the 
 locket by remaining within ken at Creswood. He lived a 
 starving life there at best. So he turned out ' Famine' to 
 thrive or succumb, and ratted his way to New York, for 
 the express purpose of black-mailing both the Huron 
 brothers. By this means he doubtless hopes and expects 
 to see-saw his way to a heavy purse. Neville Huron re 
 ferred the whole matter to me, acknowledging his gross 
 and lamentable indiscretion. I went to see him. I then 
 went down to Creswood, got upon the scent, traced Mr. 
 Attorney to his den in this city, and now have an eye on
 
 368 TEKEL, 
 
 him. He is in fellowship with some desperate characters. 
 Now for your idea of getting out a search-warrant, and 
 calling in the police to arrest him, etc. etc. That would 
 never do. He would go to law about it, and if he saw no 
 other escape he would compound with Oswald Huron from 
 whom he extracted the locket, and the important trinket 
 would find its way back to Oswald Huron, and in all prob 
 ability be destroyed. Where it now is, it is safe from de 
 struction, for the thief holds it as a kind of collateral assur 
 ance for anticipated cash. He has already made written 
 overtures to Neville Huron, who, having more financial 
 than genealogical sense, declined to respond. I wish to 
 get this locket quietly, if possible, for more reasons than 
 one, or two. If the locket is restored to Neville Huron 
 without any fuss or blazon, the impregnable position which 
 he once held, by reason of its possession, will again be his. 
 But if we get into a lawsuit over the locket, it will become 
 as difficult, probably, to prove up the trinket as it has been 
 to prove up Cora Glencoe. Don't you see ?" 
 
 " I do," said Cassel. " But now for your plan of opera 
 tions." 
 
 " It is impossible to prearrange a plan, and that is why 
 I want you to come with me instead of some damned uuin- 
 skull. Everything will have to be done upon the sugges 
 tion of the moment. We may accomplish nothing what 
 ever to-night, except, in my disguised character, and your 
 unknown one, to make the personal acquaintance of our 
 man. But you will have to look more like a 'rough ' than 
 you do now. However, I'll fix that when the time comes. 
 I shall have to wear this disguise, for among the wretches 
 whom we are likely to meet are many who know me of 
 old, and who would disembowel me on sight " 
 
 " What time shall I be in readiness ?" asked Cassel. 
 
 " About nine o'clock this evening. Can you shoot ?" 
 
 "Yes." 
 
 " But can you shoot well ?" 
 
 " I can beat you," replied Cassel. 
 
 "No, you can't do that, I am certain." 
 
 " Come into the gallery, and we'll soon see." 
 
 In the gallery, O'Dare said, 
 
 " Take your choice of pistols," pointing to a rack which 
 held at least a dozen.
 
 OR CORA GLENCOE. 369 
 
 "All I want is a true one," said Cassel. "Choose for 
 me." 
 
 A lively contest ensued, in which there was so little dif 
 ference that it was agreed to be a draw. But O'Dare 
 frankly said, 
 
 " Cassel, with your own pistols, you would beat me, if 
 I left any room for you." 
 
 " Do you expect to use pistols to-night ?" 
 
 "Only in self-defense. I took the precaution, however, 
 to get legal warrants, which, if I am compelled to plug a 
 man, will bear me out." 
 
 " Me too?" asked Cassel. 
 
 " Or any other man," answered O'Dare, with a humor 
 in his tone and face which, with the slightest recalled 
 brogue, made him, at will, so droll and racy a companion. 
 
 At nine o'clock Cassel called, at O'Dare's office and said 
 to the detective, 
 
 " I am now ready 4o make a dash for the Devil's finger- 
 ring, or privy signet, which is it ?" 
 
 " It may turn out to be your wedding-gift ring," said 
 the detective, insinuatingly. " But strip yourself to shirt 
 and drawers, and put on this suit. Take those diamonds 
 out of your bosom and sleeves, and put in these pastes to 
 make you look flashy. Rapid, I would give a dollar to see 
 you perfectly nude, I imagine that every inch of you is 
 athletic symmetry itself, and I always admired symmetry, 
 mental or physical." 
 
 " If you are fond of looking upon nudity, visit the Can 
 can, or advertise for a skinned cat," replied Cassel. " I 
 strip for no man alive." 
 
 Cassel arrayed himself in the clothes which O'Dare had 
 provided for the occasion, and stood out for inspection. 
 
 " Damn it," said O'Dare, a little impatiently, " your face 
 is too bright and handsome. Let me put some yellow 
 powder in your eye." 
 
 "No, I'll be switched if I do." 
 
 " It will never do to go with that face. It looks like 
 the silver shining moon peeping out of an old clothes-bag. 
 Something must be done. Here, take this, and rub it over 
 your phiz." 
 
 " What is it ?"
 
 370 TEKEL, 
 
 "Nothing but a mixture of grease and gunpowder." 
 
 Cassel rubbed his hands and face with the mixture. 
 
 " Now " said O'Dare, " wash in cold water, without 
 soap." Cassel did so, and asked, 
 
 " How do I look now ?" 
 
 " Like a handsome coal-heaver with his Sunday duds on, 
 just right." 
 
 " Are you ready ?" asked Cassel. 
 
 " Yes. Are you armed ?" 
 
 " I have my pistols. They are lightning to the center 
 at every fire." 
 
 " Take about eight inches of this kind of stuff," said 
 O'Dare, handing Cassel a double-edged dagger. " Its glit 
 ter makes the flesh creep. Here, also, are some brass 
 knuckles. I have something better still, but I doubt if 
 you would use it." 
 
 " What is it?" 
 
 " Pulverized Cayenne pepper " 
 
 " Now, that's too bad," said Cassel, laughing ; " you 
 must be anticipating a fight with a ' hell of ugly devils'." 
 
 "I always go prepared," replied O'Dare, picking up a 
 small black-walnut case and concealing it under his loose 
 coat. 
 
 " What is that for ?" asked Cassel. 
 
 "I am going to open a faro-bank. But listen, and tell 
 me if this contrivance which I now put in my mouth 
 changes my voice beyond recognition." 
 
 " It does, most assuredly." 
 
 " You've heard faro-dealers articulate. I must not only 
 change my voice, but modulate it, a la Faro, to the low, 
 soft, tender, briefly sweet and unctuous grunt of a grazing 
 sow. But come on, and I'll explain as we go along." 
 
 In about three-quarters of an hour Hector O'Dare and 
 Cassel Rapid stepped into a saloon located in one of the 
 most dismal parts of the city. O'Dare handed money to 
 the bar-keeper, and said, 
 
 " Give me a ticket for a vacant table, a table against 
 the wall, mind you, and not out in the center of the floor." 
 
 The keeper passed over a numbered ticket and then 
 glanced at Cassel. O'Dare pitched him an additional coin. 
 
 " Here, Ned, show these gentlemen below."
 
 OR CORA GLENCOE. 371 
 
 " Does he know you ?" whispered Cassel to O'Dare. 
 
 " No ; but he knows what the money is for ; it is our 
 entrance fee to ' hell,' the gambling-room." 
 
 " I thought a fellow could get to hell for nothing, 
 by simply letting himself loose and naturally dropping 
 into it." " 
 
 "No," replied the humorous O'Dare; "he must com 
 mit some overt act; he must do a turn or -two for the 
 devil." 
 
 CHAPTER XXXIY. 
 
 THE apartment into which our two adventurers were 
 ushered was capacious, underground, and so situated in 
 respect to the street and the upper stories of the building 
 as effectually to hush up the sounds of revelry and brawl 
 ing so common to this subterranean precinct. The apart 
 ment was lighted by a single central chandelier, which 
 was fed by a single gas-pipe. The uses of the room were 
 similar to what were those of the basement of the " Bull's 
 Head," in San Antonio, Texas, where, some years ago, 
 any man conforming to the regulations, and who could 
 muster the means, might possess himself of a table and 
 spread his gambling snares. 
 
 Entering the room and mixing with a couple of dozen 
 men or more, O'Dare and Cassel found themselves in the 
 midst of a piratical, pugilistic, cut-throat, brazen, desper 
 ate-looking crew. O'Dare saw many old acquaintances, 
 whose recognition of him would in no way have conduced 
 to his pleasure or safety ; and among the men who were 
 betting at an active faro-table he discovered Mr. Attorney, 
 the gentleman whose personal acquaintance he desired to 
 cultivate. He took quiet occasion to point him out to 
 Cassel ; he then stepped to a vacant table, corresponding 
 in number with his ticket, went in between the table and 
 the wall, spread out the customary gambling devices of 
 the place, and struck a bell which was attached to the 
 table, the silver sound of which notified all lovers of " haz-
 
 372 TEKEL, 
 
 ard" that their love was waiting and willing. O'Dare's 
 object in thus ignoring the Statute us. Gambling was to 
 give himself character, influence, and respectability in 
 " hell ;" for no one than he was better aware of the fact 
 that among this habitually impecunious and spasmodically 
 pecunious substrata crew a gold-banked dealer was envied 
 and respected, and admitted to be the very top-gallant of 
 aristocracy and the sky-sail of grandeur. 
 
 O'Dare not only succeeded in his immediate design, but 
 unexpectedly and fortunately arrived at a decisive point 
 in the ultimate business upon which he was venturing. 
 A number of fortune-fighters gathered at his table ; Cassel 
 bet freely, and O'Dare at one time was solicitous for the 
 stability and solvency of his bank. Several, who were 
 having bad luck at the other table, now came over to 
 O'Dare. Among these recruits was Mr. Attorney. He 
 bought a number of " chips" and lost them ; he bought 
 more, and lost again. Turning to Cassel, who was in luck, 
 he asked a loan of five dollars. Cassel let him have it. 
 He soon lost it. He then asked O'Dare if he might bet 
 jewelry. O'Dare consented that he should. He pulled 
 out the very locket which the detective so earnestly desired 
 to get hold of, and asked, 
 
 " How much do you value this at ?" 
 
 "Let me see it," said O'Dare. 
 
 The battered locket was passed over. O'Dare balanced 
 it in his hand as if to ascertain its weight, and then with 
 some difficulty sprung it open. There was the daguerre 
 otype of Neville Huron, and the detective was not slow 
 to perceive that the hair was parted on the left side, proof 
 positive to him that this was the kernel of the obstinate 
 nut which he had so long been endeavoring to crack. 
 
 " What is it worth ?" asked Mr. Attorney. 
 
 " Fifteen dollars, locket and chain." 
 
 " Say twenty, and I'll bet it all at once." 
 
 " Very well," said O'Dare, willing to do a favor. " Make 
 your game." 
 
 Mr. Attorney coppered the locket upon the King, but 
 slyly retained the end of the chain in his fingers. The 
 King lost, and O'Dare was deliberately reaching out to 
 take in the coveted trinket, when Mr. Attorney dragged
 
 OR CORA GLENCOE. 373 
 
 it off the cloth, and put it back into his pocket. Every eye 
 now turned upon O'Dare. Even among the lowest gam 
 blers, the act of which Mr. Attorney was guilty is regarded 
 as an unpardonable breach of fellowship and honor, and 
 such an act is always disallowed when referred to the 
 " gentlemen present." But the " gentlemen present," how 
 ever ready they generally are to decide all important ques 
 tions of this kind, never or rarely take it upon themselves 
 to enforce their decisions ; and, in the end, it amounts 
 simply to a contest of words or weapons between the ag 
 gressor and the aggrieved, with the sympathy on the side 
 of the aggrieved, but with the battle to the strongest, 
 nevertheless. Although O'Dare had suffered the locket to 
 slip through his fingers, he was conscious that he had 
 gained an advantage and an opportunity, each so great 
 and unexpected that he was determined neither to release 
 the one nor neglect the other. 
 
 "You lost," said O'Dare, pleasantly. 
 
 The man said nothing. 
 
 " Pay your loss," insisted O'Dare, coolly. ' 
 
 " It is worth more money than twenty." 
 
 "You accepted myvaluation, and I raised it at your 
 request and to your satisfaction. If I had valued it at a 
 thousand dollars, the result would have been the same, for 
 you undoubtedly lost it, on the King." 
 
 "But I am not willing to take twenty dollars for it," 
 said Mr. Attorney. " I'd sooner go and get you the 
 money;" and on that plea he was about to escape, when 
 Cassel, drawing a knife and taking him by the throat, 
 sternly said, 
 
 "Deliver, or die!" 
 
 There was a steel-like ring in Cassel's voice which hushed 
 the by-standers. Mr. Attorney, looking into Cassel's face 
 and discovering the imperial and relentless courage which 
 looked upon him and held him by the throat, cowered and 
 yielded up the locket. O'Dare, with well-concealed tri 
 umph, politely thanked Cassel, who quietly observed that 
 " game was game, and that he stood no nonsense from 
 either side of the table." 
 
 Mr. Attorney continued to grumble about the locket, 
 that it was a souvenir, etc. etc., and was endeavoring to 
 
 32
 
 374 TEKEL, 
 
 borrow the money wherewith to redeem it. O'Dare be 
 came alarmed lest the man should succeed in getting the 
 money, when, under the customary " practice," the locket 
 would have to undergo redemption. To hedge this new 
 danger, he looked over to Cassel and asked, blandly, 
 
 " Will you favor me with your name, sir ?" 
 
 "My name is Rapid," replied Cassel. 
 
 O'Dare found it impossible to repress a smile at this 
 exquisite candor. 
 
 " Thank you," said be, with all the gravity and polish 
 of the most dignified faro-table. "This is a small matter, 
 but business is business, and as I expect to do business 
 here, I want every one to understand that I work strictly 
 on the square. Will you, therefore, be kind enough to 
 take this locket to the nearest jeweler's, ascertain its carat 
 and value, and bring me the jeweler's certificate to the same ? 
 Whatever it is worth, I will pay this gentleman the amount, 
 or he will pay me and retain the locket. I leave it to the 
 'gentlemen present' if anything can be more fair." 
 
 The "gentlemen present" decided that nothing could be 
 more fair and lovely, and Cassel, putting the subject of 
 dispute down into the bottom seams of an inside vest 
 pocket, was about to go upon his errand, when Mr. Attor 
 ney said to him, 
 
 " I will go with you." 
 
 " No," said 0'Da"re. " I object to that." 
 
 " Do you object?" asked the man, of Cassel. 
 
 " Go or not, as you please," answered Cassel, with an 
 optic gesture to O'Dare, which caused the latter to with 
 draw his objection. 
 
 Cassel understood O'Dare's game, or, if not, he would 
 make a game of his own. He would go out, elude Mr. 
 Attorney or knock him down, put the locket in some place 
 of security, return, report, and he and O'Dare would take 
 the most favorable opportunity of escaping from Pluto's 
 dominions. But Cassel, accompanied by Mr. Attorney, 
 had hardly taken three steps away from the table, before 
 he was arrested by a sudden crash and uproar, which was 
 increased by the fierce yell of, 
 
 "Foul, by God, boys, it's 0'Z>are/" 
 
 Cassel turned instantly about. There, at quick and
 
 OR CORA OLENCOE. 375 
 
 desperate defense, stood O'Dare, partly stripped of his dis 
 guise, backed by the wall behind his table, with drawn 
 pistols, and with the audacity of the very devil in his half- 
 grinning countenance, while his brilliant, fluttering eyes 
 seemed by rapid glances to be holding a dozen men at bay. 
 Cassel saw that a dangerous crisis, however it had come, 
 was at hand. Without a moment's hesitation he drew off 
 and knocked Mr. Attorney as cold as a wedge. Quickly 
 throwing aside his coat, to be unencumbered, he sprang 
 over the faro-table and took his position shoulder to shoul 
 der with O'Dare, at the same time presenting in either 
 hand a cocked revolver, and saying to the crowd, 
 
 " Come on, if you like the look of it !" 
 
 One half of the crowd prudently or timidly left the room ; 
 but a dozen or more ferocious-looking fellows, inverted 
 friends of O'Dare, loudly swore that he should never leave 
 the room alive neither his accomplice. They formed a 
 frowning and threatening semicircle, but, for the moment, 
 stood with drawn weapons at a respectful distance, seem 
 ingly spell-bound by the unflinching aspect of the two 
 dauntless-looking men who were braced to defend them 
 selves and each other to the last gasp. 
 
 While O'Dare and Cassel stood together, with their eyes 
 and pistols leveled at the tierce and hungry looking despera 
 does about them, they carried on the following whispered 
 conversation : 
 
 " What do you propose, O'Dare ?" 
 
 " To surrender myself on condition that you shall go 
 free." 
 
 " I am no deserter, O'Dare." 
 
 " But you have the locket. When you are free, I'll beat 
 them, somehow." 
 
 " No. We'll beat them together." 
 
 "How?" 
 
 " I'm going to shoot out the light. We can then strike 
 for the street." 
 
 "Rapid, if you miss we are gone." 
 
 "But I won't miss; and I see no other escape." 
 
 "This is no place for us to disagree," said O'Dare, 
 drolly. " Is there but one pipe ?" 
 
 " Only one."
 
 376 TEKEL, 
 
 " Then we'll both shoot together, to make certain of it, 
 and at one, two, three." 
 
 " You understand, O'Dare, that when we shoot we will 
 drop to the floor and secure our pistols. The table will 
 protect us a moment. You will give me your left hand, 
 and with our brass knuckles we'll fight through the confu 
 sion until we reach the street " 
 
 During this rapid whispering, the black-browed semi 
 circle was beginning to move for attack. 
 
 " Count," said Cassel. 
 
 " One, two, three," said O'Dare, and in a twinkling 
 the chandelier fell with a crash, and the room was in total 
 darkness. A dozen pistol-shots succeeded, the ruffians 
 roared and raved, and the gas poured in, filling the room 
 with stench. 
 
 " Strike a light!" cried some one. 
 
 " Never!" shouted O'Dare, in an assumed voice, "you'll 
 fire the gas and scorch our breath." 
 
 " Open the doors !" 
 
 " Hang on to O'Dare whoever has him," was heard, 
 in deep, fierce tones. 
 
 " Close in on them!" shouted another. 
 
 Meantime Cassel and O'Dare, with locked hands, burst 
 through the deadly cordon, and succeeded in finding a 
 door, leading they knew not where. It was locked. They 
 kicked it open, and came upon rising steps. Ascending, 
 they came to another door. It yielded to the turning of 
 the knob. They found themselves in the dining-room 
 of the establishment. The whole house was now in an 
 uproar, and roughs were collecting from adjacent fast 
 nesses. Opening another door, Cassel and O'Dare dis 
 covered that they were upon the rear threshold of the 
 saloon. They were instantly recognized, and a general, 
 tough melee ensued. 
 
 " Use your knuckles, Rapid, and let's keep together," 
 hastily said O'Dare, " If it gets too fierce, blow them to 
 hell with your pistols !" 
 
 " O'Dare, you're excited," said Cassel, knocking a 
 fellow heels over head with a vigorous, scientific stroke. 
 
 "I'm alive," answered O'Dare, as he kicked one fellow 
 in the groin, and sent another one buttocks over stomach 
 into a far corner of the saloon.
 
 OR CORA GLENCOE. 3f7 
 
 The two gallant and athletic men fought their way out, 
 receiving, en passant, some stunning blows themselves. 
 Escaping into the street, they soon gained a place of 
 safety. O'Dare was without a hat, and Cassel, having 
 thrown off his coat at the beginning, was both coatless 
 and hatless. 
 
 " You call that doing things quietly, do you, O'Dare ?" 
 asked Cassel, with provokingly gay criticism. 
 
 " But for a damned accident it would all have been smooth 
 and quiet enough," said O'Dare. 
 
 " What changed the scene so suddenly just as I was 
 about to leave ?" 
 
 " A drunken fellow stumbled against me. Clutching 
 at me for a support or a break-fall, he pulled off my head 
 gear and exposed me, and but for you, you bold, stanch 
 fellow, I would have been in an almost inextricable fix. 
 Rapid, you are the most complete man that I ever saw, 
 let him come from Dan, or Beersheba, or from betwixt 
 the two ; and I do not judge you simply by the operations 
 of to-night, either. I've studied you before, while you 
 were asleep or should have been, you young tiger-cat." 
 
 Catching up a cab, they were soon at O'Dare's office, 
 and in the best of humors. O'Dare brought out some 
 wine and cigars. Lifting a glass, the detective offered a 
 toast, 
 
 "Success the measure of genius." 
 
 Cassel responded, significantly pointing to O'Dare's 
 face, 
 
 " A skinned cheek the unmistakable trade-mark of 
 desperate enterprises." 
 
 " You came cleaner off than I did. Cassel," said O'Dare, 
 rubbing his bruised cheek. " But here ; although I lost 
 my faro outfit, I beat those fellows out of several hun 
 dred dollars. Shall I divide with you ?" 
 
 ' Give me fifty of it, O'Dare. I know a woman who 
 needs it badly the invalid mother of a little newsboy 
 who brings me my papers." 
 
 " Here, Cassel, let it be a hundred ; I will credit my 
 account of Mundus vs. Ccelum with fifty dollars' worth of 
 disinterested charity. Bring me a receipt from the 
 
 32*
 
 378 TEKEL, 
 
 woman," said O'Dare, with facetious absurdity, " for I 
 preserve all such vouchers for the Last Settlement when 
 the celestial book-keeper shall strike a balance throughout 
 the TJ Diverse. I have some pretty good 6gures to show 
 on that day." 
 
 Cassel resumed his own clothes, gave O'Dare the 
 locket, and went home. He did not sleep well that night, 
 for an active and annoying idea intruded upon his mind, 
 and would neither be banished nor browbeaten. Early 
 the next morning he repaired to the office of the detective. 
 
 "O'Dare," asked he, "has it occurred to you during 
 the night just passed, that, if a sudden requisition was 
 made upon the city of New York for its two most egre 
 gious fools, the committee of selection might, without use 
 less hesitation, spot Hector O'Dare and Cassel Rapid ?" 
 
 " Don't put me first, if you please," answered O'Dare. 
 "But what's the trouble?" 
 
 " How is this locket, now that we have it, going to do 
 us or anybody else any good ?" 
 
 ' Why not ? It will prove up Miss Huron." 
 
 "But how?" 
 
 " This is the copy, mind you, and the copy was given 
 to Oswald Huron's child, and was about the neck of it 
 when the little corpse was brought to Philadelphia." 
 
 " But how are you to determine, legally, that this is the 
 copy, to say nothing of to whom it was given ?" 
 
 " I omitted to tell you," said O'Dare, " for the sake of 
 brevity, that the daguerrean, who took the original, and 
 from it the copy, is still operating. On his old books are 
 charged to Neville Huron an original and a copy, a few 
 days intervening between the entries The dauguerrean 
 is willing to swear that subsequent to those dates he 
 never has taken similar pictures for Neville Huron." 
 
 " He must have a deuced good memory to swear by," 
 said Cassel. 
 
 " No ; his memory has a backer ; for, a day or so after 
 he had taken these pictures, his books show that he quit 
 operating on daguerrotypes, and confined himself to the 
 more recent styles of photography." 
 
 " He might have copied one, nevertheless." 
 
 " He is willing to swear that he did not. But admit
 
 OR CORA GLENCOE. 379 
 
 that he might have done so, this battered locket and bent 
 plate will prove themselves." 
 
 " That will do, so far as the daguerrean, the locket, and 
 the miniature are concerned ; but it won't yet prove to a 
 court that this is the copy." 
 
 "We can prove that the copy was given to Oswald 
 Huron's child, and that the child habitually wore it. Do 
 you grant that ?" 
 
 "Yes." 
 
 " We can prove that this identical locket and miniature 
 was about the neck of the dead infant. Do you grant 
 that?" 
 
 "Yes." 
 
 " We can prove by Mr. Neville Huron's invariable 
 custom of parting his hair on the left side, that this is a 
 copy. Do you grant that V 
 
 "No." 
 
 "The devil you don't!" 
 
 "No, I don't. If it was a blind eye, I would admit 
 the proof. Or if his hair was friable, like glass, and he 
 had been born with it parted on the left side, I would 
 admit the proof. But as it was, and is, flexible, how can 
 you establish the fact that it lay this way or that, on any 
 particular occasion ? Nobody but himself, an excluded 
 witness in this case, could swear to it. His own wife 
 could not swear to it. Cora Glencoe's hopes are indeed 
 vanished into invisible, thin air, if they are to hang for 
 existence upon the scalp-locks of Neville Huron." 
 
 " Ph-e-w !" whistled O'Dare, like a man who had been 
 suddenly halted nonplused. countermarched. 
 
 " I knew a man once," said Cassel, " who sat down, and, 
 as he supposed, made a careful estimate. Upon that esti 
 mate he embarked in business, and conducted it flourish 
 ingly for twelve months. He was to sell so many goods 
 at such a profit, and his aggregate expenses were to be so 
 much, and his yearly gain was to be the respectable balance 
 between debit and credit. He oversold his calculation, 
 and underwent his estimated expenses, but at the end of 
 the year he found himself bankrupt. He went and looked 
 over his old estimate. He had omitted to carry the figure 
 1, and it made a difference of ten thousand dollars against
 
 380 TEKEL, 
 
 him. O'Dare, I think that .in this matter you have omitted 
 to carry the figure 1." 
 
 " Cassel," said O'Dare, with the assured gravity of Me 
 thuselah, " a cunning fox always has two entrances or 
 exits to his burrow. To all that you have said, or may 
 say, I emphatically answer buttons /" 
 
 "O'Dare," replied Cassel, with some impatience, "don't 
 be a downright fool." 
 
 O'Dare got up, unlocked a case, took out the locket, also a 
 microscope, and with apparently inimitable nonsense, said, 
 
 " Cassel, I repeat, and insist that it is buttons " 
 
 " Well unbutton the thing and spread it out, that I may 
 have a look at it." 
 
 O'Dare shook out the plate on which was copied in 
 miniature the bust of Neville Huron, and placed it under 
 the microscope. 
 
 " Here, said he, " are coat buttons on one side, only, of 
 a single-breasted coat. Here are vest buttons, on one side, 
 only, of a single-brested high-pressure vest. An open plait 
 in the shirt-bosom shows a peeping button similarly situ 
 ated. Any tailor will tell you, and swear to it, that in the 
 make-up of single-breasted clothes the single row of but 
 tons is always put on the right-hand side of a garment. So 
 you see that 'buttons ' gives me the decayed timber, the 
 rotten log, the gopher-wood, upon this question of copy 
 identity. Look at your own clothes, and look at mine, and 
 then take a microscopic view of the miniature, and retract 
 your insinuation that I am a downright fool." 
 
 Cassel looked, and saw that it was so. 
 
 " How did you ever think of such proof, O'Dare ?" 
 
 " To tell the truth, I only thought of the buttons after I 
 had gone to bed last night. My difficulty was the same as 
 yours. I couldn't sleep. I beat about for a counter-irri 
 tant, and found it. It was buttons, only buttons. They 
 are better proof than any head of hair, though it be as 
 fine a head as Cassel Rapid tosses." 
 
 "You are quite certain now, are you," asked Cassel, 
 " that you have a faultless case of it, and that the legal 
 mind, after a thorough scrutiny, will feel absolutely con 
 vinced that Neville Huron is the father of Cora ?" 
 
 " No," positively replied O'Dare.
 
 OR CORA GLENCOE. 381 
 
 
 
 " What ! I thought the locket was to be the keystone to 
 your arch ?" 
 
 " It is a difficult thing," said O'Dare, "to prove, to an 
 absolute certainty, who is the father of anybody's children ; 
 but you can risk your happiness on the chance that Mrs. 
 Neville Huron is Cora's mother." 
 
 " O'Dare, you are merely a two-legged absurdity, a 
 fork-ed humbug." 
 
 "I beg your pardon," said O'Dare, with great impu 
 dence ; " I had forgotten that in this Play of the ' Huron 
 War ' you are acting in the character of the Lover." 
 
 " If you were not such a useful leash-hound, I'd scalp 
 you, O'Dare." 
 
 " See how he blushes ! As red almost as a scalping In 
 dian. You need not be ashamed of loving Cora, for I tell 
 you, Cassel, she outshines the most of girls as the moon 
 outshimmers the stars at night ; and I am glad to know 
 of you that your cheek is accessible to the pink spray of a 
 modest youth's sweet shame." 
 
 "O'Dare," said Cassel, "you are so very awkward." 
 
 " No, I am as nimble and as softly-moving as a cream- 
 seeking tabby-cat. Go you home now, put yourself on 
 your mettle, and make your propositions. Get ahead of 
 Harry Gray and all other sickish swains ; close in as 
 rapidly as Rapid may be, and clinch your happiness. I 
 would myself bear Cora the news of her approaching 
 emancipation, but I will not rob you of the prestige which 
 good tidings always carry with the bearer. Tell Coy all 
 about it, Cassel, and then drop like a shot hog down upon 
 your knee-pans and blubber away at her. I have already 
 telegraphed to Neville Huron." 
 
 " O'Dare, you are one of the seven Plagues ; you are 
 also the most audacious fellow in all the catalogue of 
 brazen men. I was struck with the latter fact last night, 
 when I turned about and saw you standing like a veritable 
 and grinning Satan, surrounded by howling and revolted 
 devils. But don't you feel a little sore from some of those 
 heavy blows we received ?" 
 
 "I do feel somewhat battered. I saw stars several 
 times last night. But Mr. Attorney must have had just 
 time enough to imagine that he had been struck by light-
 
 382 TFKEL, 
 
 
 
 ning when you hit him. That was the most sudden, cap 
 sizing, and nicky thing of the night. But go, Cassel ; 
 Coy is waiting for you." 
 
 " Why do you call her Coy ?" 
 
 " That was the pet name for her when she was a child." 
 
 CHAPTER XXXV. 
 
 WHEN Cassel went home he found that Cora was actu 
 ally waiting for him. He encountered her in the front 
 parlor. She was dressed in pure white in gala costume 
 in swiss, and hat, and flowers, and feathers, with peep 
 ing bosom and bare round arms. She looked like a blush 
 ing, sweet young Grace, hugged about by the soft and 
 feathery snow. Cassel had never seen her so surpassingly 
 lovely and ravishing, and he felt the wildfire kindling in 
 his blood. As he looked upon her the thought entered his 
 head that if Cora should ever turn against him, then would 
 the whole world drop out of existence. . 
 
 " Mr. Rapid, I have been searching for you. Where 
 have you been so early?" 
 
 " Out into the city. What is your pleasure ?" 
 
 " I have a favor to ask of you," said Cora, modestly. 
 
 " Not the half, but the whole, of my kingdom is subject 
 to your requisitions. I give you carte blanche." 
 
 41 1 do not intend that you shall be so extravagant," 
 replied Cora. " The favor which I am encouraged to ask 
 is very simple, though, if granted, will be highly valued." 
 
 On that day there was to be a procession of school-girls, 
 pupils of Miss Lightner, the young mistress heretofore 
 mentioned. Miss Lightner had the intellectual charge and, 
 to-day, the processional conduct of these school-children. 
 They were to march through certain pleasant streets, take 
 an excursion train, and go out to a rural picnic, where the 
 air was free and the trees were full of birds, whose June 
 throats sent twittering melody upon the soft summer wind. 
 Miss Lightner had requested Cora to accompany and
 
 OR CORA GLENCOE. 383 
 
 assist her. Cora had agreed to do so, and also to ask 
 Cassel Rapid to act as Marshal of the Day. Cassel 
 promptly consented. Nothing was more delightful to 
 him than to grant a request from Cora; and to be out 
 an entire day with a lot of little virgins, and with Cora 
 for the dearest of them all, promised to be very pleasant 
 to him. 
 
 ."You are to go on horseback, that is, through the 
 streets," said Cora, persuasively, " and you are to wear 
 a sash." 
 
 " That doesn't disconcert me in the least. I think I'll 
 go all the way on horseback." 
 
 " But how will you keep up with the cars ?" 
 
 " Easily enough. There is a fine road running along by 
 the track for some miles, and a good racker or trotter can 
 beat the common time of a locomotive, in a short heat. At 
 all events it will be a diversion to the school-children to 
 see me try it." 
 
 " We shall laugh at you if you come up lagging " 
 
 " Laugh and grow fat," said Cassel. Not that he 
 thought Cora in need of a single ounce of flesh ; she was 
 just right, just upon the verge of voluptuousness, five feet 
 four inches tall, a one-hundred-and-twenty-four-pounder, 
 and every pound symmetrically bestowed, if the word of 
 madame, her dress-maker, was entitled to belief. 
 
 Cora retired and completed her gala array. Cassel 
 rigged himself, and appeared in front of the Boyd mansion 
 mounted upon the proud stallion with the black mane and 
 black feet. Linda and Cora were out on the balcony. 
 Cassel saucily threw a kiss at them. Linda responded 
 with a blushing rose which she dropped down to him. 
 
 " Little sister," said Cassel, " please go into my room 
 and bring me my lasso. It is hanging in the rack, on the 
 left." 
 
 Linda disappeared, with the backward glance of an 
 affectionate, fond sister. How radically different she now 
 felt herself to be, compared to the green and outrageous 
 little bumpkin which she was when Cassel first took charge 
 of her steps and education ! 
 
 While Linda was absent, Cassel said to Cora, 
 
 "I'll show you something of my cow-boy training
 
 384 TEKEL, 
 
 to-day, if we should happen upon a loose animal in the 
 vicinity of the picnic. Did you ever see the lasso fly ?" 
 
 " I have seen it wielded, once, but have never seen it 
 cast," answered Cora, with a sensation of horror at her 
 heart, for she never could forget the pursurer and pursued, 
 down on the Larboard Strand. 
 
 Linda came back with the lasso. 
 
 " Heave it down," said Cassel. 
 
 She threw it, and catching it, he fastened one end to 
 the pommel of his saddle, and hung the coil in a ring 
 hook at the side. He then rode away to the rendezvous, 
 and soon, to the stirring clap-trap of a kettle-drum and 
 brass band, he led the gay and flowery procession past the 
 Boyd mansion, where Cora came down and joined with 
 Miss Lightner. The school-girls were delighted with the 
 knightly pomp of their handsome young marshal, and 
 Cassel exerted himself to give eclat and spirit to the en 
 terprise. 
 
 Taking the cars, the excursionists passed slowly out 
 of the city into the country, where the engineer spurred 
 up his iron steed and the pale horse had to buckle down 
 to work. Away they went, the horse of iron and the 
 horse of flesh contending for the decisive neck. A cut 
 would ever and anon flash between them, but again they 
 would emerge, neck and neck together. The engineer 
 looked with admiration upon the emulous and splendid 
 animal, whose proud crest was forward, and whose busy 
 feet came down as regular and rapid as the ticking of a 
 Swiss watch. The school-girls waved their handkerchiefs, 
 and cheered with enthusiasm. Cassel threw kisses at 
 them, to which they gayly responded. He ventured to 
 throw a kiss at Cora. With instant propriety she sent 
 him back a flying air-kiss for was she not a pupil, and 
 should she distinguish herself from the others ? He was 
 even bold enough to assault Miss Lightner, but she was not 
 competent to notice it otherwise than by a graceful wave 
 of the hand, and a thought of " what a fine young noble 
 he is!" 
 
 The excursion proved to be delightful beyond the ambi 
 tious pitch of even Miss Lightner. The uncaged school 
 girls capered with lithe limbs over the green pasture, and 
 blushed with exercise and pleasure.
 
 OR CORA GLENCOE. 385 
 
 Cora and Cassel were sitting to themselves, in the 
 wavy shade of a low spreading tree whose branches 
 yielded to the soft force of a gentle though fickle wind. 
 Cassel felt that compensating Time had shivered the tena 
 cious seal which circumstances had set upon his heart, 
 and that he could now enter upon whilom forbidden 
 things. He indulged in beautiful pastorals, which he was 
 very capable of doing, and swept with nimble thought 
 and imagination through all the known fields of real and 
 unreal enchantment. 
 
 " Mr. Rapid," said Cora, " what teaches you to talk so 
 well ?" 
 
 "To talk well," answered Cassel, "is simply to tell the 
 truth. If a person can talk at all, it must be here, where 
 everything is so pure, and fair, and suggestive." 
 
 "And so free," rejoined Cora. "It has been a long 
 time to me since I have been out in the forest and among 
 the birds. I feel now like a hind let loose. I imagine 
 that the deepest secret could not live here, but would 
 needs peep out to enjoy a little freedom, and thereby die 
 of discovery." 
 
 " What you say is so aptly true," replied Cassel ; "for 
 under the influence and pervasions of this spot, which to 
 me is to be the sweetest or bitterest spot on earth, I can 
 no longer fetter the clamoring secret that I love you." 
 
 Sudden though it was, Cora did not start, seem over 
 come, or exhibit the least surprise. The announcement 
 had been made so gently and so naturally, and was so 
 entirely divested of the customary ill-conceived accom 
 paniments, that it fell upon her and melted in, like a snow- 
 flake falling upon a warm rock. Cora blushed and pouted, 
 and looked at Cassel with an infinitely sweet and relenting 
 reproach. He was confident that there was never such a 
 ravissante little maid in the wide world, as she dared hia 
 feasting, inquiring eyes, with her blush, and pout, and 
 sweet reproach. 
 
 "Are you surprised?" asked Cassel. 
 
 "No yes." 
 
 "A definite answer but are ycu angry r" 
 
 "No." 
 
 33
 
 386 TEKEL, 
 
 " Then what means that little beacon-light of reproach 
 which warns me to beware ?" 
 
 " To be candid, Mr. Rapid, I am disappointed in you." 
 
 " Why, Cora ? Is it a fault to love you ?" 
 
 " Yes or no, as you like. But to dismiss the subject as 
 lightly as you have introduced it, I can refer you to no 
 'parent,' should I feel ever so slight a disposition to make 
 such a reference." 
 
 " There, Cora, is your mistake. I have transgressed 
 neither the law of etiquette nor delicacy. The hour has 
 come, in which I may speak and you may respond. Do 
 not be excited now, and I will read you the latest pages 
 of your history." 
 
 But Cora was excited, and she listened with exquisite 
 sensibility and interest to Cassel while he detailed the 
 history of O'Dare's last night's operations, and then made 
 her understand the sure results which would follow. He 
 then pressed Cora for an answer to his special plea. 
 
 " But why are you in such hot haste about it?" 
 
 " Haste ! My most exemplary patience has snapped its 
 cords. And then," said Cassel, telling a fruitful fib, " I 
 am afraid of Harry Gray." 
 
 " Pshaw!" protested Cora, who, in her eagerness on the 
 one hand, betrayed herself ou the other. 
 
 " You do love me, don't you, Cora?" said Cassel, with 
 sweet and gentle urging. 
 
 "Yes I do, if nothing else will satisfy you." 
 
 " Nothing else in this world will. How long have you 
 loved me, you little dove ?" 
 
 " Only since your avowal a few moments " 
 
 "Now, Cora," saucily and joyously objected Cassel. 
 
 "Not longer, then, than you have loved me, I can tell 
 you." 
 
 " Are you sure ?" 
 
 " Yes, unless you are the most deceitful fellow in the 
 world." 
 
 " I confess that I have been very deceitful with you, 
 you rose-lipped darling ; for never by word or look have 
 I intimated to you the thousandth part of my affection. 
 Not until I have the opportunity fondly to show it will
 
 OR CORA GLENCOE. 38T 
 
 you be able to conceive how deathly dear you are and 
 ever shall be to me." 
 
 " Why so very dear ?" asked Cora, thrilled by the deep 
 tenderness of his voice. 
 
 " Because you are pure as mountain snow, warm 
 hearted as love, and stanch as steel. I could load the 
 air with reasons. And, as I once told you, I am the 
 Logan of my house, having no living thing, but Cora, to 
 love. You are dearer to me than vengeance to the venge 
 ful." 
 
 " Vengeance ! Why do you mar the moment with that 
 painful, crimson word ?" 
 
 " Because it suits my comparison, being priceless in the 
 estimation of men." 
 
 "I did not know it." 
 
 " I will not teach you of it. Whether it comes from 
 Above or Below I know not ; but it has been, and is, in 
 the heart of immemorial Man, and the blood of Christ has 
 failed to wash it out. But come away from it," said 
 Cassel, humorously, " and let us be foolish as all fresh 
 lovers are." 
 
 " Fll play the fool with no one, by request," said Cora, 
 with mock sobriety and unwillingness, while her eyes rested 
 with infinite tenderness on her lover. 
 
 Cora, who was as fiery as she was firm, had thought that 
 she loved Cassel before ; but now that her heart was un 
 locked, she felt in her roused bosom the headlong gush of 
 all her soul, spangling through her veins, and thickening 
 in her throat. At this moment she could have wound her 
 arms about herlover's neck and died upon a kiss. Out of 
 the gloom of Cliff Hall had she been plucked, and trans 
 ported into a sphere of active life, and light, and happi 
 ness, and love, like a sweet star, hitherto without form and 
 void, sent singing into the field azure of a summer even 
 ing sky. And now her lover was impatient to garland her 
 way with flowers, and make the air about her hazy with 
 the gossamers of love. How bright the future seemed to 
 her, intrinsically bright, but more brilliant still, when com 
 pared with the past 1 She felt now that wickedness, and 
 sorrow, and anguish, and ills, had fled the world, and that 
 only 'rainbows spanned the heavens, and only music swept
 
 388 TEKEL, 
 
 the air ; that life was not indeed a gloomy vale, nor its 
 charms but lurid meteors, nor man but evil, nor gold but 
 dross. The primrose chaplet about the giddy head was 
 now all appropriate ; the flowery circle of dancing school 
 girls was all appropriate ; the trained melody of chords 
 and pipes was all appropriate ; the music gushing from 
 the free bird's throat, as it swung in the green bough, was 
 all appropriate ; strike the cymbal I let God be praised, and 
 man rejoice, for O this is a happy, happy world! So felt 
 Cora Glencoe with her lover beside her. In less than 
 an hour she would feel as one dead and yet conscious to 
 suffer. - 
 
 Cassel found no occasion or opportunity for displaying 
 his skill as an expert lazador, except that he had already 
 cast the invisible loop of love over the white neck of the 
 coyest little antelope of a girl, and drawn her to him with 
 a charmed cord and so gently, that she was soon subdued, 
 and happy, and confident at his side, ready to skip with 
 him over the lawns, or bask with him by the waterfalls, 
 and in the pleasant places. Cora and Cassel, giving sigh 
 for sigh and pledge for pledge, plighted themselves for 
 ever. 
 
 "I am thine, and thou art mine, 
 Body and soul forever." 
 
 Miss Lightner came and requested the lovers to lend 
 their voices to the singing of an anthem which was to 
 close the rustic pleasures of the day. 
 
 "Praise Him, praise Him, 
 Ye shouting nations praise Him." 
 
 The school-girls, with their conductors, then repaired to 
 the railroad, to be in readiness. Cassel put his ear to a 
 rail and notified the company that the cars were coming. 
 Here was an opportunity for Miss Lightner to give her 
 pupils a practical lesson in the philosophy of sound, and in 
 a few moments every pupil had her ear upon a rail. Cassel, 
 a rascal, stood off and compared their ankles. 
 
 "Are you going to race with us again ?" asked Miss 
 Lightner, pleasantly. 
 
 "No," replied Cassel. "I must be kind to my horse, 
 for he has been very kind to me.. He is now eight years
 
 OR CORA GLENCOE. 389 
 
 old, and since I first got upon his back and subdued him, 
 he has never failed me a single step. The only thing about 
 him which I dislike, and at the same time like, is, that he 
 is too fierce ; he will let nobody groom him but me. Our 
 stableman has to lower his food to him from the loft, and 
 unless I curry him myself he gets no currying at all. He 
 will admit of no hair-dresser or valet but me. But I love 
 to fondle him, he is'so affectionate and grateful. Would 
 you like to see him and me in a play ?" 
 
 " I would indeed." 
 
 Cassel threw the reins over the pommel of the saddle, 
 and ran out upon the lawn. The horse rushed after him, 
 neighing, and rearing, and snorting, and wheeling about 
 him. Lightly as a young panther, Cassel, disdaining the 
 stirrup, sprang into the saddle and stretched away. Back 
 again he came with furious speed, and, when just abreast 
 of Miss Lightner, he swooped from his saddle, plucked a 
 white wild-flower from the ground, recovered himself, and 
 instantly brought the proud horse upon his haunches with 
 his forelegs buried to the knees almost in the spongy soil. 
 As Cassel sat upon his quivering wild-eyed steed, his 
 cheeks rosy with the violence of his feat, and holding up 
 the little bloom which he had snatched from the sward, 
 Miss Lightner, whose mind was classic and artistic, thrilled 
 with the consciousness that she had not dreamed of a life- 
 picture so vivid and heroic. The school-girls were actually 
 frightened, until they saw that Cassel was safe and un 
 hurt. Into Cora's heart came a pang. Whence it came 
 she could not divine, unless from the memory of the deed 
 down on the Larboard Strand, which Cassel's swift action 
 had recalled. 
 
 " Mr. Rapid," said Miss Lightner, " you have electrified 
 me. I have read of such deft and brilliant feats, but put 
 them down as merely fanciful. I see plainly that I have 
 many things to learn. But permit me now to thank you 
 thoroughly for the favor you have done us all, and me espe 
 cially, by coming with us and making our little excursion 
 so delightful a success." 
 
 " Miss Lightner," replied Cassel, with a covert glance 
 at Cora, " I can very well afford to assure you that I am 
 amply repaid by the distinction with which you have hon- 
 
 33*
 
 390 TEKEL, 
 
 ored me, and the pleasure I have enjoyed in company with 
 so much loveliness and intelligence." 
 
 The young school-mistress was unaffectedly grateful to 
 Cassel, and gratified at the prosperous issue of the day. 
 
 " The cars are in sight," said Cassel, who rode away to 
 meet the excursionists in the city, form the procession, and 
 conduct it to the point of disintegration. 
 
 The pleasure-party were soon again in the city, and, this 
 time without music, were moving gayly along a wide and 
 handsomely-built street, when from far up the street came 
 cries, and shouts, and yells, and reports of pistol-shots, 
 while, from his saddle, Cassel could see a commotion of 
 people dashing here and there into doors, and actively seek 
 ing places of security. The commotion and alarm drew 
 nearer and nearer, until Cassel discovered the rapidly-ap 
 proaching cause. A brace of infuriated, half-wild Western 
 steers were rushing down the street, maddened by their 
 strange surroundings, and by the missiles and wounding 
 pistol-balls which were launched at them, lunging and gor 
 ing at every salient object in their way. Cassel saw that 
 his little school of children were in direct and imminent 
 danger of being scattered and gored and trampled upon 
 the pave. Luckily he had taken his pistols with him to 
 the picnic, as a law against roughs and strolling vagabonds. 
 Knowing that he had not a moment to lose, he spurred his 
 trained horse forward to meet the mad brutes. The leader 
 made directly for this new antagonist, savagely shaking its 
 head, and leveling its pointed horns for ripping, bloody 
 work. Cassel sent a pistol-bullet into the brain of the fore 
 most animal and dropped it dead in its tracks. Its com 
 panion, rendered yet more furious, came bolting forward and 
 lunged desperately at the pale horse. Cassel had barely 
 time to spring his horse aside and escape the formidable 
 horns. The mad steer plunged by him, and started for 
 the school-children who were now in frightful peril. They 
 had kept together, along the sidewalk, backed by a blank 
 wall. They had not appreciated their danger, which was 
 multiplied tenfold by their red sashes, and Cassel had no 
 time to tell them of it. As the mad brute escaped him, 
 with a glance of fire Cassel wheeled his fierce stallion, 
 aud as no pistol-shot from the rear could halt the danger,
 
 OR CORA GLENCOE. 391 
 
 with the quick, sharp cry of the lazador he waked up the 
 bold breast of the stallion, wielded the lasso above his head, 
 and came like a rushing thundershaft down the street. It 
 was now that the champion of the prairies was in full 
 career, and now it was that something, more dreadful than 
 any wild brute's hoof or horn, gored through the heart of 
 Cora Glencoe, and overthrew her, and trampled out her 
 life. Here again was pursuer and pursued ; and here 
 again, coming like an angel of death, was the matchless 
 and terrible horseman, who, in fierce pursuit, had spurned 
 the sands of the Larboard Strand, who had driven Jonas 
 Aiken into the sea, and three times plunged the dagger to 
 his heart. Here indeed was the unknown murderer ! Re 
 cognition, like a flash of lightning, pierced her soul, and 
 all her recent full-hearted happiness and wildering joys 
 were scorched and withered up and consumed, as grass 
 before the wind-driven fire. Cora drooped senseless to 
 the pavement, just as Cassel, with an unerring cast, lassoed 
 the forelegs of the wild brute, and tripped it almost at 
 the feet of Miss Lightner, who stood her ground, but with 
 pale terror in her face. In another moment, Cassel put an 
 end to the danger with his pistol. His action had been 
 brave and magnificent, and waked up the enthusiasm of 
 every one who saw it. He was greeted with cheer after 
 cheer from the street, and the waving of handkerchiefs 
 from the overlooking windows. But soon he saw Miss 
 Lightner kneeling and supporting Cora. He sprapg from, 
 his horse. 
 
 " She has fainted !" said Miss Lightner, quickly. " Get 
 some water!" 
 
 Cora was soon restored to consciousness, but when 
 Cassel offered his tender assiduities she turned from him 
 with a look of mingled horror and unutterable reproach. 
 He thought it but the effects of still lingering fright. He 
 arranged for Miss Lightner to accompany Cora to the 
 Boyd mansion in a carriage, and he would take charge of 
 the children, and dismiss them home. 
 
 When Cassel returned to the mansion, he felt a bleak 
 fear enter his breast with what he was told. Linda in 
 formed him that Cora looked like marble, and was almost 
 as quiet. That she was perfectly rational, and was not,
 
 392 TEKEL, 
 
 in any ordinary sense, ill. That she had already written 
 a letter, which Linda herself had read, demanding of Mr. 
 Hope that he should take her home ; that if he did not 
 send for her, she would go herself to Cliff Hall at the ex 
 piration of a stated day. 
 
 " She will give me no explanation, though she is still 
 affectionate to me, or tries to be," said Linda. " She 
 sheds no tears, complains of nothing, but looks at me as 
 if her heart was dead within her; as if her whole body 
 was dead, and her soul was yet inhabiting the corpse. 
 Oh, it is terrible!" and Linda broke away with tearful 
 lamentations. Coming back, Linda said, " I asked her to 
 see you, but he went into ice, and coldly spurned the re 
 quest. Brother, there is something out of common that 
 is pressing upon and afflicting Cora. Oh, if you could 
 only see her desperate, hopeless-looking eyes, you would 
 think that murder had been committed upon everything 
 in this world which she had loved and cherished! I know 
 not what to do, and her immovable opposition bars me of 
 your assistance. Why it is, God only knows." 
 
 Cassel was most agonizingly confounded. Cora, whose 
 mental constitution he knew to be cast in the healthiest 
 mould, and whose rosy lips but an hour ago had formed 
 the sweetest words in the universe for him, now to turn 
 about and spurn the very sight of him ! It was beyond 
 all earthly alchemy to analyze the motives of such extreme 
 and dreary conduct. But Cassel had a hope, that when 
 Cora recovered fully from her fright, as he conceived it, 
 she would again be as she had been. He was urged by 
 all the tenderness which he felt for her, to go to her, 
 break up what evidently was an illusion, and soothe her 
 back again to lively joy, but he prudently decided first to 
 get Linda to give her some composing draught, which 
 would steady her shaken nerves, or put her to sleep. 
 
 " Cora, take this," said Linda. 
 
 "What is it?" 
 
 " Something to restore you." 
 
 "I do not want it." 
 
 " Brother Cassel sent it." 
 
 " Take it away/" 
 
 Linda came back and told Cassel that Cora would not 
 have it.
 
 OR CORA GLENCOE. 393 
 
 The blighted young girl held but one imperial, overpow 
 ering, disastrous feeling to her heart. He, whom she had 
 given herself to love as a god, was a devil. Lucifer had 
 come upon her and exalted her, only to break her cruelly 
 against a stone. Her tender heart was now as bleak as 
 the snow-clad wastes of winter. Cut away from all the 
 world, she felt alone like a dying cygnet drifting upon a 
 boundless tide. Bootless was it that at Creswood was a 
 venerable man who loved her : bootless was it that in 
 Philadelphia were arms ready to receive her, for with 
 them she had not grown up and intertwined. Fate had 
 cast her out, and there was nothing under the vault of 
 heaven to which she might fondly cling, or upon which 
 she could rest in peace. 
 
 Never again did Cora sit at the family board of Linda 
 Boyd. She took her meals in her room, and would neither 
 see Cassel Rapid nor communicate with him. Cassel's 
 heart was completely harrowed up by anxiety, suspense, 
 mystery, and painful vigil. Cora's conduct was so strangely 
 and stubbornly inexplicable. Except upon the hypothesis 
 of partial insanity, he could find no shadow of reason or 
 excuse for her, and even upon that ground, the calamity 
 which confronted him would be superlatively painful, and 
 disastrous to his hopes for both Cora and himself. He 
 often contended against a strong and active impulse to 
 force himself into her presence, imagining that he could 
 bring back the color to her cheeks and the live light to her 
 eyes ; but he hardly could thrust himself upon her in the 
 face of her repeated and positive denials, lest it should ag 
 gravate her condition, granting that hallucination was the 
 ruler of her otherwise unaccountable ways. Days passed, 
 and Cassel, remembering her mad uncle, could not other 
 wise conclude but that Cora was suffering from partial 
 insanity superinduced by fright. The suddenness and 
 singularity of the peril which had so rudely threatened 
 her and her companions, and possibly the additional aspect 
 of her lover being in the very jaws of the danger, had 
 caused her, as Cassel thought, to faint. When she re 
 covered her consciousness, it was accompanied by the 
 glamour that her lover was himself the peril, and that, by 
 reason of his swift and vivid action, a fear of him had
 
 394 TEKEL, 
 
 lodged within her breast and was ever present to her mind, 
 making her think of him with an insane dread, which time 
 alone would cure. Cassel was satisfied that there was no 
 other foundation in the broad world upon which to build 
 an explanation. 
 
 Cora had occasion and incentive, greater than ordinary, 
 to cut the words, deep and sharp, into the tablet of her 
 code, that she would "countenance no man-slayer ;" for 
 the subject had been brought home to her, crimsoned with 
 the red wash of human blood. Her uncle had again and 
 again insulted and spit upon a man, and had then killed 
 him for resenting the injuries. But he was her father, as 
 she had thought, and the lock of lineage had held her to 
 him. But with her own eyes she had seen Cassel Rapid 
 rush like a tiger upon his fellow and kill him. She felt 
 that, knowingly, she could never touch a bloody hand. 
 She was outraged that Cassel, knowing her principles so 
 well, should have come upon her with his sealed history 
 and fatal beauty, pillaging her of all she had, only to re 
 pay her with the hated offering of a red hand. But, like 
 alms to an impostor, her heart was given, and could never 
 be recalled. Not that she regarded Cassel as still worthy 
 of her love, but there were now two Cassel Rapids in her 
 little world : the one was her matchless lover and the 
 child of the Sun; the other was a man-slayer and the 
 slayer of her peace. From the remembrance of her lover 
 she could no more escape than the stars can escape the 
 Infinite Glance which lights them. She must still love 
 what Cassel Rapid appeared to be but what he actually 
 was, never ! She must worship the myth, but never again 
 the man. 
 
 Oswald Huron was unmistakably and violently deranged. 
 To all who were compelled to remain with him, he made 
 Cliff Hall a foretaste of what they might expect, should 
 the devil wait upon them at their death-beds, and carry 
 them below. Vindictively his mind ran upon the subject 
 of Cora, and he had already determined to spurn the 
 agreement which he had made, and summon her home. 
 If need should be, he would go for her himself. 
 
 He went out one day where the accident occurred which 
 leads to a great portion of this narrative, and leaned over
 
 OR CORA GLENCOE. 395 
 
 the bluff to look down upon the spot where, more than six 
 teen years previously, an infant was broken and mangled. 
 The sight of it seemed to madden him and charm him. 
 He lingered there all day, steeped in acrimonious gloom, 
 under the influence of the Apollyon, which, to his own 
 knowledge, haunted him. Late in the evening, the evil 
 spirit that was in him seemed to rend him, and with a 
 frantic cry he rushed forward and sprang wildly over the 
 precipice and was dashed to pieces. One of the negroes, 
 who had been detailed regularly to watch him in his 
 wanderings, but who feared to approach him, saw his sui 
 cidal leap, and sped home with the news of it. 
 
 Before Mr. Hope could send for Cora, Neville Huron 
 came up from Philadelphia. He brought her the first 
 tidings of Oswald Huron's death, and qualified the news 
 by suggesting to Cora that however much the fatality was 
 to be lamented, it struck from her pathway the only obstacle 
 to her peace and permanent happiness. But Mr. Huron 
 found his daughter in a condition, of which he could get 
 no satisfactory understanding, from her or any one else. 
 She would only tell him that her life was bankrupt ; that 
 it had almost ever been so ; and that he must take her 
 home as a flower that was dead. The father was inex 
 pressibly grieved. He urged upon Cora that her trials 
 were over, that she now had a father, and mother, and 
 brother, and sisters, who would hedge her about with love, 
 and coax or steal away the poisonous residuum of the past. 
 He regarded Cora as having been wearied out by the con 
 stant strain which life had put upon her. He was now 
 prepared to cut the straining cords, give her a cheerful 
 range, and bring out the sun to shine upon her, and restore 
 her. But Cora's hopes had been wrecked, just as the 
 clouds had broken away and let in the light of the dearest 
 day of all her life. Her happiness in the very hour of 
 its birth had been beheaded, as by the sweeping cimeter 
 of Saladiu. Although she was now possessed of a home 
 where wealth and affection would greet and gird her, she 
 felt that she would carry into that home a shadow which 
 would darken its walls, and a burden which would oppress 
 its joy. She felt that " Cora Glencoe," as she had not 
 been in the past, would not be in the future, essential to
 
 396 TEKEL, 
 
 the happiness or integrity of the house of the Hurons ; 
 that the family circle was complete without her ; that no 
 accustomed niche was there for her to occupy ; and that 
 instead of inhabiting she would haunt the house that gave 
 her birth. Could her sisters love her as they would have 
 done, bad the associations of childhood locked and linked 
 them together ? Could her parents love her as though she 
 had learned to coo upon their lap and knee, and vex and 
 delight them with the importunities and enchantments of 
 early childhood ? Could any of them love her at all, and 
 would they not weary of her, coming among them, as she 
 would, with a cheek that was wan, and a heart that was 
 faint from the sappings of that vampire Care ? The 
 element of steel in Cora's composition, which had sustained 
 her in her miserable life with Oswald Huron, was melted 
 by the heat of the fiery furnace through which she had 
 just passed, so that she drooped beneath the weight of her 
 crosses, and swayed with the behests of the pitiless blast. 
 
 CHAPTER XXXYL 
 
 CASSEL RAPID and Cora Glencoe were each in that con 
 dition which induces many faulty-headed people to commit 
 the Rash Act Suicide. But neither of them thought of 
 such a desperate way out of their desperate troubles. 
 
 Of the two, Cassel was the more hopeful, and conse 
 quently the more restless. Although he was as one lost 
 in the night, without star or beacon to guide him, he 
 trusted that the morning would come again perhaps, and 
 smiling Aurora light up his pathway, that he might pur 
 sue it. But he was compelled to admit to himself that 
 his trust was a wretched one at best. 
 
 Cassel had suffered before, when anguish, deep beyond 
 the reach of soothing plummet, had overwhelmed him. 
 But then he knew the wherefore. Now, he could not con 
 ceive or conjecture, far or near, why it was that Cora, so
 
 OR CORA GLENCOE. 397 
 
 immediately after having given her heart to him, should 
 utterly turn against him as though he had done her an 
 aggravated and unpardonable wrong, disdaining even to 
 accuse him, but, by her actions, telling him plainly that 
 he himself well knew the great sin which he had com 
 mitted against her. 
 
 The idea that Cora's condition arose from glamour or 
 insanity, no longer stood him in stead, for both Linda and 
 Miss Lightner insisted that Cora was as sane as he was 
 himself, and that she was undoubtedly acting from an un 
 clouded and intelligent will. 
 
 Cora had gone home. It seemed useless for Cassel to 
 follow her ; but not to do so, and never to find out what 
 this unimaginable thing could be which had come between 
 them, would harass him through his whole life, let that 
 life be what or where it might. 
 
 Cassel was not a man to give up. Neither was he a 
 man to waste himself in bootless enterprises which prom 
 ised nothing. If, therefore, Cora would not see him, hear 
 him, or communicate with him directly or indirectly, what 
 could he do ? But for his unlimited confidence in Cora's 
 truth and justice, he neither could nor would have under 
 taken anything whatever. He would have acknowledged 
 the stroke as once before he had acknowledged a deeper 
 and more disastrous one. But, convinced as he was that 
 Cora, in her opinion and action, was conscientiously true 
 to herself, he determined to do the only thing left for him 
 to do. He would endeavor, by watching and waiting, 
 himself to solve the mystery, despite her absolute taci 
 turnity. But how should he go about it, and where should 
 he commence ? His first step was to write to Mr. Hope 
 (by Garland, who had come up to New York for Cora, 
 not knowing that Neville Huron had taken her home), and 
 inform the old minister of everything that bad ever trans 
 pired between himself and Cora, then solicit the minister's 
 advice and intervention. Giving Mr. Hope time to write 
 to the young girl, hear from her, and then write back to 
 him, he waited impatiently for the result of his first step. 
 Finally a letter came, and Cassel, expectantly, opened it. 
 But if broke like an apple of the Dead Sea, containing 
 little else but ashes. 
 
 34
 
 398 TEKEL, 
 
 " Do not ask me to write it to you," Cora had only writ 
 ten, so far as the cause of her attitude toward Cassel was 
 involved in the correspondence. 
 
 From this reply Mr. Hope inferred, and so intimated to 
 Cassel, that, should he ever have the opportunity, he might 
 induce Cora to tell it to him. 
 
 "I am confident," wrote Mr. Hope, "that she would 
 tell me, if I could only see her ; which, at present, I can 
 not." 
 
 Cassel reflected that Cora was in Philadelphia and the 
 old minister in Creswood, and that they might never meet 
 again. She would certainly not go down to Creswood to 
 confer with Mr. Hope, and it was not to be expected that 
 the old minister would go up to Philadelphia to interfere 
 with Cora. Cassel could not ask it of him. But notwith 
 standing that it was a long and tedious journey for age 
 and infirmity to undertake, and that the errand w r as a pre 
 sumptuous one, this venerable and goodly man did go to 
 the far city, in behalf of the son of his benefactor, but 
 not until other events in this, our history, had transpired. 
 
 Cassel, upon receipt of Mr. Hope's letter, appreciated 
 the difficulties which contravened a natural or probable 
 meeting between the minister and Cora ; also, could he 
 even bring them together, the slim, rare chance that the 
 obstinate girl would be more communicative with Mr. 
 Hope than with others who had been as sisters to her, 
 namely, Linda and Miss Lightner; or than with himself, 
 who had been her tender guardian and still more tender, 
 outspoken lover. Cassel had played his first and strongest 
 card, and the trick was against him. A long night of 
 anxiety and oppressive thrall was before him. 
 
 But, as drowning men will catch at straws and bubbles, 
 or the wounded leopard seek familiar haunts, Cassel, from 
 somewhat similar impulses, looked in upon Hector O'Dare ; 
 not that he anticipated consulting him, but O'Dare, pro 
 fessionally, was intimately connected with the Hurons, 
 could talk about them, and probably tell him next to no 
 thing about Cora. But that would be better than absolutely 
 nothing at all. 
 
 Cassel liked O'Dare ; first, because O'Dare liked Cassel, 
 and had done him unforgotten favors ; second, the detec-
 
 OR CORA GLENCOE. 399 
 
 tive was a capital fellow ; third, he was the best of com 
 pany, and never below par. When O'Dare had the leisure 
 to gossip and joke with him, Cassel, who was something 
 of a loafer, could not find in all New York a more pleasant 
 lounging-place than the office of the detective. 
 
 O'Dare was a cautious man, as well as a cautious detec 
 tive, and trusted no one implicitly ; but he probably did 
 trust Cassel to greater lengths than he trusted any other 
 man alive, not excepting his confidential clerk. And he 
 frequently amused the young man, by the hour, or the half 
 hour, according as time was precious, with details of in 
 imitable incidents and casualties which had interlaced and 
 befallen his professional career. 
 
 When Cassel entered the detective's office on the occa 
 sion in question, O'Dare met him with his usual droll bra 
 vado, slapped him on the shoulder, and bantered him for 
 another wrestling match. 
 
 " No," said Cassel. " I am not in the humor to-day." 
 - O'Dare's quick eye detected that Cassel was inclined to 
 be serious, if not dejected.' He rejoined, 
 
 "It's not far from here to Philadelphia, Rapid. What 
 are you down in the mouth about ? If you have no money 
 to pay your passage, I'll dead-head you." 
 
 " Sit down, O'Dare, and act like a sensible human." 
 
 " That is to say, act in character act myself act Hec 
 tor O'Dare, for instance," replied the detective, laughing. 
 " But, by the other way, (most people preface by saying 
 ' by the way," 1 but Hector generally admonishes with ' by 
 the other way,' for you can always anticipate a change of 
 direction when you hear that significant ' by the way'), 
 therefore, by the other way, you have been indulging in a 
 little adventure lately, and all by yourself." 
 
 "What?" asked Cassel. 
 
 " What ! Why, the papers were full of it. ' Tremen 
 dous ' is no adjective at all. ' Magnificentissimus ' is a 
 dwarf compared with the string of type which printed you 
 a hero. A frantic drove of wild-cattle were about to run, 
 hoof and horns, over the city. You halted, shot, and las 
 soed the last one of them. Why didn't you whistle for 
 me, and let me share the glory ?" 
 
 " O'Dare, your enthusiasm outstrips your discretion.
 
 400 TEKEL, 
 
 You would earn a good salary as ' local ' to a sensational 
 column." 
 
 " These roustabout locals do get a little droll sometimes, 
 don't they ? But, by the other way, what is the drollest 
 thing in life that you ever read ?" 
 
 " It would be an endless job to consider your question." 
 
 " Well, I can tell you the drollest thing that Hector 
 O'Dare ever read, and make a short job of it at that." 
 
 " Suppose you tell it, then," said Cassel. 
 
 " It is the last clause second verse sixteenth chapter 
 Genesis, and reads so: ' And Abram hearkened to 
 the voice of Sarai,' ha ! ha ! ha ! h-a 1" and O'Dare 
 laughed as heartily as if the Bible, which in the main he 
 venerated, had been a collection of facetiae. 
 
 " I don't discover anything very droll in that," said 
 Cassel, who was not very much inclined to laugh. 
 
 " I know you don't. But you will, when you go and 
 look at the context." 
 
 "Which I shall probably not do," carelessly observed 
 Cassel. 
 
 " I don't care whether you do or not." 
 
 Chatting awhile, O'Dare finally asked, 
 
 " What the devil is the matter, Rapid ? I never saw you 
 look so sober, or heard you laugh with less unction in all 
 my life. In fact you don't laugh at all, but put me off with 
 a grin so dry that it actually makes me athirst. Is there 
 anything swagging, or rotten, in the build of ye ?" 
 
 "We all have our serious moments." 
 
 " To be sure; but you are not only serious, but despond 
 ent. By the other way, that is, to change the subject 
 entirely, don't you think, Cassel, that I am entitled to your 
 confidence in a matter in which I did you prime service, but 
 about the sequel of which you have never vouchsafed me 
 a word ? I have respected your silence," said O'Dare, with 
 true feeling, which made him both dignified and graceful, 
 " and will continue to do so upon the slightest intimation. 
 You know what I mean." 
 
 " I do. You wish me to tell you in what manner I met 
 Jonas Aiken and killed him." 
 
 " You have stated it with a perspicuity absolutely fright 
 ful," exclaimed O'Dare, who did not appear very much 
 frightened however.
 
 OR CORA GLENCOE. 401 
 
 Cassel described, more minutely than we have done, 
 the tragedy of the Larboard Strand where Jonas Aiken 
 was so swiftly sent to his well-deserved doom. 
 
 " Just as I or any other man with a heart in him would 
 have done it," said O'Dare. "And now, while you are in 
 a confiding humor, tell me why you are so dashed to-day. 
 Maybe I can help you." 
 
 " I fear it is beyond the reach of all your skill." 
 
 " There are few things which cannot be manipulated or 
 managed by deft hands." 
 
 "And this," replied Cassel, "proves thus far to be one 
 of the few." 
 
 " Is it money ?" 
 
 "No." 
 
 " Then I know what it is." 
 
 "What?" 
 
 " Disappointment here," and O'Dare touched the region 
 of his heart. 
 
 " Why do you fly so quickly from the pocket to the 
 breast?" 
 
 " Because, when a man is brave, honest, wealthy, in good 
 health, young, unmarried, handsome as a Greek ideal, and 
 is without kindred to lose, or bring him into trouble, there 
 is but one thing which can rule him so dreadfully below 
 par as I find you to-day. Why, Rapid, your countenance 
 is not worth two bits on the original dollar. Tell me of 
 the complication, my young sweetheart of a boy, and I 
 may be able to untangle the tangle for you. I may pos 
 sibly help you some at the very least. Is it little Coy who 
 is troubling you ? I know it is, and you need no longer 
 try to hide your elephant behind a handkerchief." 
 
 " O'Dare, you have shrewdly guessed, and your shrewd- 
 . ness shall be the purchase-money for my confidence. I am 
 in trouble, and it is Coy, as you call her, who is the cause 
 of it. But it is not the ordinary trouble of a lass-lorn 
 school-boy which is affecting me ; there is something 
 strange about it, so strange that I can in no way account 
 for it. I will tell you." 
 
 Cassel detailed to O'Dare the particulars of his tribula 
 tion, and then asked, 
 
 " Now, what do you think of it ?" 
 34*
 
 402 TJEKEL, 
 
 "As you said, it is a very strange thing indeed," an 
 swered the detective, who, after reflecting a moment, ob 
 served, " You remember that her Uncle Oswald was in 
 sane; and, by the other way, did you know that he is 
 dead?" 
 
 " I remember his insanity, and also know of his death ; 
 but I am well assured that insanity has nothing to do with 
 Cora's actions." 
 
 " Fright cannot have superinduced such conduct, for she 
 is a girl of as fine nerve as any that I know. I have seen 
 her often, and I especially tried her once myself, down on 
 the beach at Creswood;" and O'Dare told Cassel of the 
 time when he gave Cora the gem pistol while she was sit 
 ting alone upon the Tarpeian Rock. 
 
 " She was sitting exactly there when I senj; that hell 
 hound to his doom," said Cassel, with a lightning glance 
 which indicated that his soul would never sleep over that 
 deed and the cause of it; " and she saw me do it, for it 
 was dono right before her eyes." 
 
 " Flas she ever recognized you as the party ?" asked the 
 detective. 
 
 " Not that I know of, in fact I know that she has not." 
 
 " You were riding that fierce stallion ?" 
 
 " Yes." ? 
 
 "And came up the strand in hot speed ?" 
 
 " Yes." 
 
 " Wielding your lasso ?" 
 
 " Yes." 
 
 "Rapid, I have it," said O'Dare, quietly, but with a 
 gleam of triumph from his cool clear eyes. 
 
 " Have what ?" 
 
 " I hold the mystery in solution." 
 
 Cassel sprang up, and in a voice half stern, said, 
 
 " O'Dare, do not mock me, I warn you I" 
 
 " I am not mocking you, quick thunderbolt that you are. 
 You are the last man on earth whom I would either dare 
 or desire to mock. Sit down, and I will hold up to your 
 view the solution as in a crystal goblet, that you may look 
 it through and through." 
 
 Cassel sat down, with his eyes fixed upon O'Dare, who 
 continued, distinctly and succinctly,
 
 OR CORA OLENCOE. 403 
 
 " When, the other day, you came rushing down the 
 street, after the mad steer, riding the identical pale stallion, 
 wielding the identical lasso, and with war and exigency in 
 your countenance, in the vivid picture she recognized you 
 as the identical man who sent that devil Aiken to judg 
 ment. Cassel, she regards you as a murderer ! There is 
 the solution." 
 
 " O'Dare !" cried Cassel, again springing up, " you are a 
 wizzard I You are the very Ithuriel at the touch of whose 
 spear this monster of a thing stands revealed. But, thank 
 Heaven, it is less terrible when revealed than when in dis 
 guise. Give me your hand, you cunning captor of secret 
 and mercurial things ; you have struck a light in the black 
 firmament which overhung me and imprisoned me with 
 its close horizon." 
 
 The two men locked hands and wrung each other vig 
 orously. They were each elated with the discovery, for 
 in it the detective triumphed and the lover hoped to tri 
 umph. 
 
 "Now, sir," said O'Dare, "do not doubt my willingness 
 to serve you ; and, above all things, never doubt my capa 
 city." 
 
 Cassel was exalted from his vale of despondency. That 
 O'Dare had found the key to the troublous secret was be 
 yond question. Neither did he question that Cora, when 
 she should leai'n why it was that he had slain Jonas Aiken, 
 would give him back all that she had so relentlessly taken 
 from him. 
 
 " Cassel, your face is appreciated to six bits on the dol 
 lar, at the very least." 
 
 " O'Dare, I shall never again doubt your capacity. I 
 have come to believe that in your subtlety you can almost 
 tell me why water runs down hill." 
 
 The new aspect of his affairs had already induced Cas 
 sel to reoccupy his old familiar position of joking antag 
 onism with O'Dare. But the detective, somewhat at length, 
 replied, 
 
 " There, lovely youth, you are mistaken altogether. I 
 would greatly prefer an undertaking to put this and that 
 together and block out a reason why one man does, and 
 one woman doesn't, than vainly to endeavor to explain the
 
 404 TEKEL, 
 
 mysteries of creation. I might tell you that water runs 
 down hill under the influence of the attraction of gravita 
 tion, and that the attraction of gravitation is a mutual at 
 traction between matter and matter, which draws the lesser 
 to the greater ; but if for the term ' attraction of gravita 
 tion,' I should substitute the equally illustrative term 
 ' tom-fist-i-cus of the ox-cox-i-jis,' you would know just as 
 well, under the latter term as under the former, what that 
 influence actually is. Wiseacres describe Electricity as a 
 fluid, for the sake of identification or of recording their 
 wisdom, but Hector O'Dare is bold enough to deny that 
 it is a fluid. Electricity, to the brainless creation, bears 
 the same relation that thought does to brain-ed creation. 
 Brain is the galvanic battery of thought, and sends it even 
 beyond the invisible suns in the twinkling of an eye. 
 Electricity is the corresponding essence or scintillating 
 flint of the Material, sleeping as the child sleeps, or musing 
 as man muses, except when Deity directs it in the heav 
 ens, or man vents it with artificial contrivances. To call 
 Electricity a fluid, you may as well say that the letter A 
 or the figure 9 is an ink spot or a chalk mark ; whereas, 
 each is an Idea. You may object to the assertion that 
 Electricity to Materiality is what Mind is to the Flesh, on 
 the substrata, that is, on the ground, that thought will 
 traverse space and penetrate everywhere at will, while 
 Electricity will shy from a feather bed, or halt before a 
 wall of glass. I will answer that objection by suggesting 
 that as there are some substances which are bad conduc 
 tors of Electricity, or with which it has no affinity what 
 ever, so are there some conditions of the brain which re 
 strict thought, for example, ignorance ; also some very 
 bad conductors of thought, for example, nonsense, ha ! 
 ha! ha! h-a!" 
 
 " By which very bad conductor, nonsense, you have en 
 deavored to convey your ideas or thoughts to me. I can 
 acknowledge the receipt of no single one of them. O'Dare, 
 you talk like a wise fool." 
 
 " Like a fool, or to a fool ?" laughed O'Dare. " I some 
 times pick up a fool and literally larrup him with learning, 
 and I was congratulating myself upon having secured an 
 audience."
 
 - 
 OR CORA GLENCOE. 405 
 
 " Who would ever have dreamed that a simple rogue 
 catcher was so ambitious, or so positive a wit ! But give 
 me a cigar and I will suck wisdom from you as a sponge 
 sucks water." 
 
 " Shall I tell you all I know ? Can you stand it ?" 
 
 " I do not wish to hear what you absolutely know ; that 
 would be too uninteresting and matter-of-fact. Tell me 
 what you suspect, what you darkly suspicion" said 
 Cassel, with all his old humor creeping to his countenance. 
 
 O'Dare set out some wine. Lifting a full glass, he 
 said, 
 
 "Cassel, I stick to my old toast, ' Success, the measure 
 of genius.' When you came in here you were only worth 
 two bits on the dollar. I have dragged you out of the 
 Slough of Despond, and, by mixing a little sense with a 
 good deal of nonsense, have bulled your market value to 
 about ninety cents on the dollar. I leave to Coy the 
 pleasure of tossing you way up beyond par or price, if she 
 chooses to do so. But take your carcass out of my office, 
 for I have not a single other minute to spare ;" and O'Dare 
 rang for his clerk, whom he had dismissed when his inter 
 view with Cassel first promised to be a confidential one. 
 
 "I am going down to Creswood have you any mes 
 sages ?" asked Cassel. 
 
 " Yes. Remember me to Captain Gale, of the White- 
 cap ; and present the respects of the ' Geologist' to young 
 Hope, the Creswood minister, a very clever, upright gen 
 tleman no doubt, but, on a well-remembered occasion, a 
 most aggravating bore, a regular curculio, spiking all my 
 green fruit;" and O'Dare rapidly explained to Cassel how 
 the young minister had innocently annoyed him and almost 
 upset his character of ' Geologist' once upon a time. 
 
 Cassel repaired to the Boyd mansion and notified Linda 
 that he should be absent for an indefinite period. Though 
 anxious, she did not turn pale with dismay or break into 
 a shower of grief, as she had done on a former occasion, 
 for she now felt self-sustaining : her good-by was a smiling 
 one, though a few tears which forced themselves out and 
 rolled, like dewdrops from a blushing rose, off from her 
 healthy cheeks, fully attested the presence and wakeful- 
 ness of her affection and tenderness.
 
 ,406 TEKEL, 
 
 Cassel went down to Creswood, and with him went the 
 pale horse. As the young man approached the house in 
 which he was born " Gift Home," but more generally 
 spoken of in the neighborhood as the " Parsonage" he 
 saw Mr. Hope sitting bareheaded and alone upon the 
 portico, watching the bold beauty of bulging, towering 
 thunderheads, as they rose up from the sea and caught 
 the golden flash of a summer evening's sun. With his 
 snowy hair and patriarchal beard, and his benevolent 
 countenance pensive with undefiled Religion and lighted 
 with the halo of Faith, he seemed as an aged warrior 
 resting from his battles, and confidently looking Above, 
 from whence would come his everlasting victory. As 
 Cassel came forward, this old man, hoary with good 
 deeds, and ripe with duties well performed, and dreaming 
 as it were in the holy reflection of that heaven to which 
 he was so manifestly near, the youth experienced in his 
 heart that the rare picture before him was far more noble 
 and beautiful and touching and instructive than all the 
 glittering panoramas of the vain and folly-seeking world. 
 Cassel took off his hat and reverentially approached, as a 
 stripling should approach a venerable grandfather whose 
 works had made him worthy, and whose years had crowned 
 him with majesty. Mr. Hope arose and met Cassel. Put 
 ting his broad right hand upon the uncovered head of the 
 youth, and in a voice tremulous with fervor, he said, 
 
 " May the blessings and mercies of God rest upon thee, 
 my son, now, henceforth, and forever. " 
 
 Cassel leaned his head against the old minister's breast, 
 and choked down his rising emotion. In a few moments 
 the family was about him and he was receiving from every 
 side a genuine and sprightly welcome. 
 
 During the evening, after tea, Mr. Hope, with reference 
 to the things which he knew lay heavily against Cassel's 
 heart, said, in answer to the youth's inquiring and plead 
 ing eyes, 
 
 " To-morrow, and we will see each other."
 
 OR CORA GLEN CO E. 4QJ 
 
 CHAPTER XXXVII. 
 
 CASSEL rested as well as he might until the morrow. 
 Mr. Hope, after breakfast, took him into the pastoral study, 
 closed the door, and locked it. 
 
 " Now, my dear boy, tell me all." 
 
 Cassel felt that his fortunes were about to be put into 
 the balance and weighed out to him ; that before him sat 
 the future architect, moulder, and arbiter of his fate. 
 Notwithstanding this, and that the pure truth might shat 
 ter his hopes forever, he canie prepared to tell only the 
 truth. 
 
 " Mr. Hope," said he, " since my last letter to you, I 
 have had suggested to my mind what I confidently be 
 lieve to be the foundation upon which my trouble is built." 
 
 " And you came to see me, and to tell me about it, that 
 I may, if possible, remove the foundation, so that your 
 trouble shall tumble to its' own destruction ?" 
 
 " I came for that express purpose. But before I can 
 ask you to befriend me in the new phase which my difficul 
 ties have assumed, I must tell you of a fact in my history 
 which involves, not only the cause of my present trouble, 
 but a, feature of humanity, which feature few men regard 
 differently from myself, but which, to you, may present an 
 insuperable objection to the extension of your sympathy." 
 
 " Tell me all," said Mr. Hope " I can then be the 
 better friend and counselor." 
 
 " Have you ever imagined," asked Cassel, with an al 
 most rigid face, " who it was that slew Jonas Aiken ?" 
 
 Without an instant's hesitation, the old minister re 
 plied. 
 
 "The brother of Diana Rapid slew him." 
 
 " That is the truth," said Cassel, firmly ; " and the fact 
 that you divine it so readily, proves in your own correct 
 heart that I- ought to have slain him." 
 
 " Thou shalt not kill." was Mr. Hope's reply. 
 
 Cassel looked into Mr. Hope's face, long and earnestly.
 
 P08 TEKEL, 
 
 Then, in a tone which fulmined through the old minister's 
 breast, he said, 
 
 "Man mocks the earth with his laws and licenses. 
 "t)iana Rapid was purer than the drop of dew on Vesta's 
 morning wreath. Hell came upon her; and where is my 
 young sister now? Mouldering in the lonely soil of a 
 Western wild, where hymns are never sung and prayers 
 are never heard. Ob, what a life was in her bosom, to be 
 quenched and polluted by this fiend of hell !" The brother's 
 eyes gushed with tears, and his breast heaved. Presently 
 he continued: " She had a lover, a noble boy. Where 
 is he ? Rotting in the trenches of the Crimean dead. Have 
 I sinned ? I do not claim it as a godly act, for I am no god. 
 I do not feel that I am guilty. I have never felt so. I hold 
 fast to this deed of puny retribution and justice, as you 
 yourself cling to the good deeds of your life. -But tell me, 
 my revered friend and father, if this act, which my whole 
 life will sanction, and the recent knowledge of which causes 
 Cora to regard me as a murderer, bars me from your sym 
 pathy and aid?" 
 
 " Christ would not have done it, my son." 
 
 "Ay, but would you have done it?" 
 
 " Christ would not have done it," repeated the old min 
 ister, mildly. 
 
 " Nor would the Angel of the bottomless pit have barely 
 done what that wretch failed not to do. If reeking Evil 
 must needs stalk the earth, whenever it crosses my path 
 I'll assault it in the teeth of every law that pusillanimous 
 demagogues may dare to fashion. I'm an outlaw in the 
 eyes of dastard codes, and I thank God for the spirit which 
 makes me such." 
 
 "Tempt me no more, my son. I am but an old man, 
 and the fire of my blood is quenched." 
 
 " Moses slew an Egyptian for a lesser crime. Brutus 
 killed Caesar for a lesser crime. Cromwell killed Charles 
 for a lesser crime. Washington, the rightful nonpareil of 
 men, killed Andre, hung him, for a lesser crime. And 
 millions have been slaughtered by wars and laws for 
 crimes which pale before this wretch's triple work." 
 
 " Urge me no more, my dear boy. Speak no more of 
 it now. I will seek God, and to-morrow I will bring you 
 tidings."
 
 OR CORA GLEN COS. 
 
 409 
 
 "But you must understand," said Cassel, "that Cora 
 winessed the act; that she considers it a cold-blooded mur 
 der; and has just learned that I did the deed, but does not 
 know why I did it. All I desire is that she shall thor 
 oughly understand ; after which, if she frowns upon me, 
 I would not snap my finger for her smile. I would disdain 
 to touch the hand of any girl or woman who would not 
 justify me." 
 
 " In the morning, Cassel," repeated the old minister, 
 " I will bring you tidings." 
 
 Cassel waited patiently and hopefully until the next day. 
 His conversation with Mr. Hope had relieved him, and he 
 felt much more at ease, for be saw that the good man was 
 with him, and trusted that Cora, in the purity of her youth, 
 would be as chivalrous and independent as was the minis 
 ter in the purity of his age. 
 
 On the morrow when the minister met Cassel, his greet 
 ing was, cheerfully, 
 
 " My son, in a few days I go to Philadelphia." 
 
 Cassel's heart bounded. He knew what it meant, and 
 half of his anxiety and care was expelled. Cassel had 
 hoped much, but not quite so much as this. He replied, 
 
 " But, my dear sir, is it necessary for you to take upon 
 yourself this weary journey ? Can you not write ? If you 
 desire it I will be your amanuensis." 
 
 " No, Cassel, I could neither write nor dictate all that I 
 would say to her ; and I am certain that the impropriety 
 of my having an amanuensis at all in this matter, and espe 
 cially for it to be Cassel Rapid, has escaped your percep- 
 tives. A little jostling will probably not hurt the old joints 
 in me, and recreation may do me good." 
 
 When this brave old veteran of the Cross started upon 
 his weary and peculiar mission, Cassel accompanied him 
 during the days of toilsome cart-road travel which it was 
 necessary to endure before they could reach a railroad sta 
 tion, making him as comfortable as possible, and caring 
 for him with ceaseless assiduity. Cassel would remain at 
 the station, take charge of the carriage and horses, and 
 await Mr. Hope's return. 
 
 The old minister arrived safely in Philadelphia, and 
 Cora's sad heart was surprised into temporary joy at the 
 
 35
 
 TEKEL, 
 
 unexpected but welcome presence of her dear old guardian 
 and friend. But her aching, active sorrow soon smote 
 utfon her joy, beating it down and utterly away. Mr. 
 ifope's breast was scourged with anguish at sight of Cora, 
 pale, hopeless, and almost silent, while her desperate dark 
 eyes appeared to avoid the intelligence of his glance. De 
 liberating in his own mind, the minister changed his orig 
 inal plan. The next day, Cassel, at the lonely station, 
 received the following note : 
 
 " MY DEAR BOY, Go back to Creswood, but leave the 
 carriage and horses at the station. I will start for home 
 to-morrow, and Cora is coming with me. I have not 
 spoken to her yet in your behalf, and will not do so until 
 we arrive at Creswood. I think I am doing for the best. 
 You, of course, cannot be my guest while Cora is with me, 
 unless I can prevail^ upon her to give you the welcome. 
 You had better go down to Gale Island and remain there. 
 1 will act speedily and notify you." 
 
 "Your friend, 
 
 " ST. JOHN HOPE." 
 
 Although Mr. Hope's note did not change the status of 
 affairs, Cassel was encouraged. He went back to Cres 
 wood and to Gale Island. Captain Gale, who had been in 
 port for some time, was making ready for a short cruise. 
 He invited Cassel to take a saiUwith him. Cassel accepted 
 the invitation with pleasure and purpose. He would get 
 himself clean out of the way, and relieve the situation of 
 whatever suspicion Cora might have entertained that pre 
 meditation was decoying her down to Creswood to throw 
 her in the pathway of her lover. Cassel was a pretty 
 good sailor, and no mean addition to the crew of the 
 Whitecap, for the weather was warm and lazy, and the 
 sympathetic sailors felt warm and lazy likewise. 
 
 Garland Hope had for some time considered himself a 
 success, both as minister and educator, so much so, that 
 he had induced Rebecca Ruthven to abridge the time which 
 should elapse before each should make the other perfectly 
 happy. Consequently, they were to be married the com 
 ing autumn. Rebecca was seventeen years of age, and was 
 fully developed into a woman. What, therefore, was the 
 sense or utility of waiting? She was entirely free from
 
 OR CORA OLENCOK. 
 
 that mercenary spirit so common to the safely-engaged 
 girls of 1870, of " seeing Life " before taking the marriage- 
 vows. Now what does this "seeing Life" mean? It 
 does not mean seeing how to live! But it means that a 
 girl who feels secure of, or indifferent to, her lover, prefers 
 first to expend her bloom and plumpness in all sorts of dis 
 sipation and the devil knows what, and, having broken 
 herself down, become literally tired out, and blase, thei^ 
 affectionately to surrender herself, a withered old skin 
 full of bones, to the patient fool who is waiting with open 
 arms and purse to receive her. She will spend the honey 
 moon in his arms perhaps, and the balance of the moons 
 in his purse, perhaps not. 
 
 Rebecca Ruthven did not contemplate going to her lover 
 looking like a dried herring or a starved heifer. Her love 
 liness was mild as the light of an astral lamp ; her blonde 
 beauty and voluptuous figure gave her an appearance at 
 once angelic and ravishing ; she was in the vigorous dawn 
 of womanhood, and she was willing to give herself fresh 
 to Garland, and let him, her lover, gather the bloom from 
 her cheek, instead of brushing it off in giddy contact with 
 a superficial non-repaying world. 
 
 Rebecca was not as intellectual as Cora Glencoe, nor 
 was she as exquisite and statuesque, but she was very 
 sweet, and fair, and affectionate, and would doubtless 
 make as good a wife as Cora, and as good a mother, 
 which, after all, constitute the chiefest sources of happi 
 ness and comfort in a family. Intelligence mutual intel 
 ligence is essential to the higher joys of existence ; but 
 a person can be intelligent without, in the matter of intel 
 lectual culture, having ever acquired more than a sound, 
 symmetrical, rudimental scholarship, reinforced by obser 
 vation and instructive reading. For what is more disgust 
 ing or malapropos than a thoroughly well-lettered fool ? 
 or what, on the contrary, is more agreeable than native in 
 telligence allied with a good heart? It is better for a 
 woman to understand how to dress a fowl, or a man how 
 to wield an axe, than for either of them to be able to dive 
 out of sight into some bottomless question of science or 
 art, the science of government for instance, or the polite 
 art of torturing an unfortunate piano.
 
 412 TEKEL, 
 
 Rebecca's education was, in greater part, practical. She 
 anticipated becoming a minister's wife, and was neither 
 too modest nor too lazy to fit herself well for the trying 
 sphere. And she bid fair to be as amiable, useful, and 
 well-ordered a helpmate as any minister or plain man need 
 want, or is entitled to. 
 
 Garland was as perfectly satisfied, and as serenely 
 happy, as it is in the nature of mankind to be. He did 
 not see a single cloud in his sky of which he could not smil 
 ingly and confidently say, Nebicula est : transibit. His 
 betrothed was all that he desired her to be, and his way in 
 life, pleasant and fruitful now, opened yet fairer down the 
 vista. His experience had not been absolutely painless, 
 but it had been peaceful and full of purpose. He, like all 
 of us, met with occasional brambles, and stumbled here and 
 there against a stone; but he trusted in his Religion and 
 his Love, and always rallied to his either trust, instead of 
 railing at the bramble in his way or the stone at his foot. 
 
 If peace, and quiet content, and unostentatious happi 
 ness ever rested anywhere in this world, they abided with 
 the excellent households of the Hopes and the Ruthvens. 
 But a shaft from Hell was already aimed at them. Who, 
 but God, can catch it on his shield ? 
 
 A few days after the Whitecap sailed, Johnny Gale 
 very unexpectedly arrived at Gale Island. Johnny had 
 improved greatly, both in appearance and manner, and had 
 a look of elegance about him which contrasted well with 
 the home-clad denizens of Creswood. On his arrival, his 
 mother and sister Caddy smothered him nearly to death 
 two or three times before they could let him alone. 
 
 " Is the old man in port?" asked Johnny. 
 
 " What old man ?" asked his mother. 
 
 "The governor." 
 
 "Johnny, what do you mean ! For whom are you in 
 quiring ?'' 
 
 <W hy, father, of course ! Whom do you reckon ?" and 
 Johnny looked at his mother with impudent amazement. 
 
 "Did you ever!" exclaimed Mrs. Gale, turning to 
 Caddy, who, like her mother, was astonished at the enor 
 mity of Johnny's assurance 
 
 Johnny bolted out at the door, went around the house,
 
 OR CORA GLENCOE. 413 
 
 stood up in a chimney corner, and vented one of the most 
 ticklish suppressed laughs imaginable. His shoulders shook 
 up and down for a full minute. He then returned to his 
 mother and Caddy, and began to busy himself unpacking 
 his trunk of clothes. Coming to a pair of socks with holes 
 in the heels, he turned and tossed them to his mother, 
 saying, 
 
 " There, old lady, I wish you'd darn those darned socks 
 for me " 
 
 With an amazed and threatening air, Mrs. Gale got up 
 and walked over to her son. 
 
 " John Gale ! Is this the sort of education you are get 
 ting in New York ? You needn't laugh so ticklish, sir, or I'll 
 get one of your father's rope's ends and tickle your tail for 
 you, big as you are." 
 
 Johnny now broke out into an open roar, while Mrs. 
 Gale looked at him, angry, bewildered, and amused in 
 spite of herself. 
 
 " Ma, he's only teasing you, he don't mean it," cried 
 Caddy, while Johnny continued to roar. 
 
 Mrs. Gale, thus enlightened, jumped on her son, and 
 beat him with motherly blows until Johnny put his arms 
 about her and squeezed the tears out of her eyes. 
 
 " Mother," said Johnny, as soon as he could command 
 his voice, " when the ' old man' comes home, don't you 
 tell him ; I want to try it on with him, just for fun." 
 
 " You try that with your father, and he'll buckle you 
 down and spank you," replied Mrs. Gale, with a laughing 
 threat. 
 
 "He's not 'old man' enough for that," said Johnny, 
 saucily. 
 
 " Yes he is, sir, old and young enough too." 
 
 Mrs. Gale was as proud of her husband's stalwart 
 strength as she was of her son's good looks and promise. 
 
 " Johnny," said Caddy, " what brought you down so 
 suddenly, and without any notice ?" 
 
 " Nothing sudden about it. I have not been here for 
 months. And what's the use of a notice ? You wouldn't 
 make any preparation for me if I were to give you a fort 
 night's warning and come in a coach-and-six." 
 
 " Preparation indeed ! We are always prepared for you, 
 35*
 
 414 TEKEL, 
 
 you young buffalo," said Mrs. Gale. " But I can tell you, 
 Caddy, what brought him down so like a thief in the night. 
 He has come ^o ask his mother if he may marry that young 
 widow up in New York." 
 
 "No, I'll be smashed if I have," protested Johnny, laugh 
 ing and blushing, and asserting his independence. " That's 
 one of the things which I intend to do or not, without 
 anybody's yea or nay but hers. Remember, mother, I'll 
 soon be twenty-one." 
 
 " And much of a man you'll be, you great booby of a 
 boy," laughed his mother. " Think of him, Caddy, with a 
 wife. It will be like a young gander housing with a pullet." 
 
 "More like a giant nursing a doll," said Caddy. 
 
 " Or an elephant fumbling with a mouse," rejoined 
 Johnny, helping them along. " But whatever it is like, 
 I expect to like it." 
 
 " You'll have to, whether you do or not," said Mrs. 
 Gale, while Caddy laughed at the Irish bull of which her 
 mother was guilty. 
 
 Is it to be supposed that Johnny Gale, an open, headlong, 
 and unguarded youth, was going to wait six months 
 notwithstanding Cassel Rapid's injunction to that effect, 
 and Johnny's promised submission before he leveled his 
 gun and popped the question at Linda ? Whoever has sup 
 posed such a thing is an egregious failure. Johnny did 
 not intend to break his promise to Cassel ; but it will be 
 remembered that there is a certain well-ordered place, 
 w,hich, for economy and convenience, makes its pavements 
 of intentions good intentions at that. Johnny conscien 
 tiously meant what he had promised, and contemplated 
 " holding his horses" until the six months should expire, 
 and possibly for a day or two over, to make good count. 
 But Linda was so very bewitching, and Johnny was such 
 an awkward hand at holding back, and the girl-widow 
 once gave him, as he conceived, such a winning chance 
 to rush ahead, and he was so well in remembrance of the 
 old adage "now or never^' that he let all "holts" go, his 
 team ran away with him, and he found himself lauded 
 and sprawling, with all the ticklish foolery of the love 
 that was in him overgushing at Linda's feet. 
 
 " But I will not give you an answer, you great giant of
 
 OR CORA GLENCOE. 415 
 
 a good fellow," insisted the blushing, laughing, delighted, 
 and coying Linda, "until I have seen my brother Cassel," 
 and Johnny was compelled to gather himself up, and ac 
 cept the situation until brother Cassel could be consulted. 
 
 Meantime, a little frightened, he determined to see 
 brother Cassel himself, and to see him first ; for that 
 excessively important individual might take it into his 
 head to come down upon him heavily for disregarding 
 his strict injunction and outstripping the expiration of 
 the agreed probation. He would go see brother Cassel 
 then, who, to his growing fears, began to loom up more 
 terrible than any castle he had ever read of in any child's 
 book of legends. 
 
 That, and nothing else, was what brought Johnny Qale 
 down to Creswood He had not come because he loved 
 his father, or his mother, or his sister, which he did, 
 but because he loved Linda Boyd, and Cassel was the 
 arbiter of his fate, and Cassel was supposed to be at Cres 
 wood. 
 
 " By Juggernaut," was Johnny's constant apprehen 
 sion, " it will never do to let him discover from anybody 
 else but me, that I have stolen a march on him in his 
 absence." 
 
 Pretty soon Johnny inquired if Cassel was in the neigh 
 borhood, and, almost afraid to meet him after coming so 
 "frantic and far" for that express purpose, learned, 'some 
 what to his momentary relief, that he had put to sea on 
 the Whitecap. 
 
 " How I would like to be with him !" exclaimed Johnny, 
 inadvertently. 
 
 " Well," said Caddy, pertinently and pertly, " that is 
 saying a good deal for him and very little for us. You 
 have been with him for months, and now that you are 
 here, at home, with your mother and sister, you must 
 still be pining after Mr. Rapid. I thank you, sir ; very 
 kindly, sir." 
 
 Mrs. Gale looked to Johnny for an explanation. 
 
 " But now that I've seen you all, here, I want to see 
 father," was Johnny's very lame excuse ; " and you know, 
 Caddy, how I always loved to sail ?" 
 
 " B"ut, son," interposed the mother, humorously, " tell us 
 about that Mrs. Bovd."
 
 416 TEKEL, 
 
 "Oh, she's the sty of my eye," replied the blushing 
 young Hercules. 
 
 " But are you the sty of her eye ?" asked Caddy. 
 
 " She says I'm a good fellow, and referred me," an 
 swered Johnny, putting a fun-face upon it. 
 
 " I hope," said Caddy, who was something of a plague, 
 " that she did not refer you to ' Uncle Jesse,' for Mr. 
 Rapid says that Uncle Jesse stands no nonsense." 
 
 " He will have to stand a devil of a sight of it if he 
 expects to stay in my family," and at this conceit Johnny 
 fairly roared with laughter. 
 
 " Johnny," said Mrs. Gale, severely, " never do you use 
 such a word as ' devil' in the presence of your mother 
 again." 
 
 ' Nor anywhere else," added Caddy. 
 
 'No nor anywhere else," agreed Mrs. Gale. 
 
 ' Did I say ' devil' ?" 
 
 ' Yes, you did," spoke up Caddy. 
 
 'I declare I was not aware of it. I beg pardon all 
 around." 
 
 " I would rather you had been aware of it," said Mrs. 
 Gale. " Not being so, argues that you are so accustomed 
 to the use of such words that you do not know when they 
 escape you." 
 
 " No, mother; it is because I feel so free here." 
 
 " Never get so free anywhere, my son, as to lose respect 
 for your mother." 
 
 " Never indeed, mother. When I lose respect for you 
 I hope to go to the dev " 
 
 " Hold, Johnny !" cried the wide-awake Caddy, spring 
 ing up. " Ma, he was just going to say the very same 
 thing over again !" 
 
 Johnny ran out of the house and rolled in the grass. 
 He felt some inward reproach, but, at the idea of inad 
 vertently suffering the identical offense to return and kick 
 the heels of his apology he couldn't suppress that ticklish 
 laugh which lived in him. He went back to fib out of his 
 difficulty. He protested that he meant to wish himself 
 "to the dogs," but that Caddy's reprehensible practice of 
 interrupting him had not allowed him to finish what he 
 had intended to sav.
 
 OR CORA OLENCOE. 417 
 
 CHAPTER XXXVIII. . 
 
 CORA was again at Creswood, among the scenes of her 
 earliest recollections. What a melancholy attachment pos 
 sessed her for Creswood, with its hills, and abysses, its 
 strands and familiar places ! Cliff Hall was now her own. 
 Oswald Huron had left it to her in his will, and although 
 he was known to have been fitfully insane, and although 
 the will would not have been admitted to probate, or, 
 being admitted, might easily have been overthrown, 
 Neville Huron, the legal heir and representative of his 
 brother, confirmed the document, and gave to Cora the 
 entire wealth of Cliff Hall, as her due for the lonely and 
 painful life which she had spent there, and for which he, 
 the father, was in a measure originally responsible. It 
 was a valuable and desirable hold, but Cora had earned it, 
 in fee-simple, with her dripping, bitter tears, her anguish, 
 and heartache, and solitary, sad songs down upon the 
 strand. 
 
 After resting the part of a day and the ensuing night, 
 Mr. Hope lost no time in holding an interview with Cora. 
 He could not bear to see the young girl so bereft, and 
 would, if possible, become a restoring physician, giving 
 her back all that she conceived herself to have lost. His 
 venerable years endowed him with the privilege of speak 
 ing freely, and sanctioned the propriety of Cora's willing 
 ness to listen. He told Cora of Diana Rapid : of her cloud 
 less purity and loveliness and youthful prospects. Cora 
 had never known that there had been a Diana Rapid. With 
 a solemn grief which awed the young girl, he then told 
 her of Diana's fate. Tears coursed their way down his 
 aged cheeks. He spoke slowly, and with tremulous al 
 most terrible, earnestness. Cora sat perfectly still, shed 
 ding no tear, and giving no sign. Her stanch, warm heart 
 was frozen in its fountains. She crept to the old minister's 
 breast, and nestled there as if shielding herself from some
 
 418 TEKEL, 
 
 icy wind, while shudder after shudder swept through her 
 body from head to foot. 
 
 " It was for this damnable deed, that Cassel slew the 
 spoiler." The old minister continued to speak slowly and 
 impressively. He was playing no part, but felt and doubly 
 felt all that he said. " Such blood as he has spilled will 
 never stick to his hand. In the breast of that boy is as 
 noble and pure a heart as ever beat. His arm is valiant 
 against lurking Evil, and in his conscience virtue will 
 always triumph. For his cause he has faced a hundred 
 deaths. He is the chief among thousands, beautiful, and 
 brave, and worthy to be loved, as / love him, with the 
 whole heart. My little one " 
 
 Cora could stand it no longer. She sprang wildly from 
 the old minister's arms, out into the middle of the room. 
 Her cheeks were flaming hot with the furious rush of the 
 pent blood. Her eyes blazed, and her every glance was 
 a glance of fire. Like some tempestuous, tameless thing, 
 she uttered a genuine war-cry, stamped vehemently upon 
 the floor, and fled away. The old minister was bewildered, 
 but he was too infirm to follow and overtake her. He 
 waited for her to return to him. Half an hour passed, and 
 Mr. Hope was beginning to get impatient. He heard a 
 light step coming along the hall, and Cora, calm and blush 
 ing, appeared at the door. 
 
 " Come here, Cora." 
 
 She approached, knelt down, and rested her head upon 
 the minister's knee. He waited for her to speak. With 
 out lifting her head she said, 
 
 " And you would have Mr. Rapid and myself to be 
 friends ?" 
 
 " That is what I wish. I knew of all that I have told 
 you before I placed you in his care in the city of New 
 York. In fact, immediately after his home was broken up 
 in Texas, I corresponded with him regularly, and was the 
 first to notify him that his foe was here in Creswood. I 
 solicit no more from you than I grant myself. I am un 
 reservedly his friend. He eats at my table, sits by my 
 daughters, and associates with my son." 
 
 Cora, not yet looking up, said, 
 
 " You have been my father. At your knee I learned to
 
 OR CORA QLENCOE. 419 
 
 pray. I have always contemplated you as the safe link 
 between me and God. I know that you are venerable 
 with good deeds which would crowd a century of ordi 
 nary good men's lives. It cannot be that we are both 
 mistaken." And Cora handed up to the old minister a note. 
 " Here," said she, " is my decision." 
 
 " What is here, Cora ?" 
 
 " Open it and read, and then transmit it to Mr. Rapid, 
 for I know not where he is." 
 
 Mr. Hope glanced through the note, which was a model 
 of brevity, and read, 
 
 " Mr. Rapid, Forgive me. I am wiser. UORA." 
 
 " My dear child," said Mr. Hope brightly, "there is no 
 balm in Gilead like this for his earthly troubles." 
 
 Cora's heart again trembled with tenderness for her 
 lover. A mountain had been heaved from her bosom. 
 The blood seemed to spangle like spray of ecstasy through 
 out her body, and tingle at her very fingers' ends. 
 
 "And now," said Mr. Hope, " for the last few words 
 which either of us need ever speak upon this subject." 
 
 The old minister, after talking some time, concluded 
 with these words : 
 
 "Although men cannot be as gods, it is no excuse for 
 them to be as devils. It is better that all the sons of Beel 
 zebub on earth should die than that one Diana Rapid 
 should be wrecked. The law was too lame even to catch 
 this Jonas Aiken, and would only have chastised him had 
 it caught him. Therefore the brother made a law unto 
 himself and the spoiler, and, in its execution, wrote Tekel 
 against the statutes of his country. What is a man's 
 country ? Patriotically, and poetically, it is a broad land, 
 teeming with busy millions. Practically it is his Fireside. 
 What, then, is all his country to the man who, suffering 
 from boundless wrong, can only sit by his fireside mourn 
 fully, and watch the sparks fly upward ? I venture the 
 assertion that there is not a proper man or virtuous woman 
 in America, or in the world, in whose secret heart Cassel 
 would lack justification. My little girl herself would have 
 scorned him, had he done other than what he did. But I 
 am not now attempting to justify him, but myself, as a 
 minister of the gospel, in the view which I have taken of
 
 420 TEKEL, 
 
 this thing. Neither would I urge this view from the pul 
 pit, for it might eventually lead to an excess of violence 
 of undue violence, under other heads of grievance. The 
 law is what should be changed, that its workings may har 
 monize with the genuine sentiment of the American breast. 
 Have you followed my meaning ?" 
 
 " I believe I have ; and yet, you feel yourself to be in a 
 dilemma, and that I shall judge you as not quite true to 
 the gospel which you have preached so long. But from 
 that very gospel," said Cora, smiling, " I can explain your 
 position in much fewer words than you have used." 
 
 " Let mertiear you," said the minister. 
 
 " Christ, in his teachings, eschewed and condemned ty 
 ranny; but, out of the fish's mouth, himself paid tribute 
 to a tyrant." 
 
 "And out of the mouths of babes and sucklings pro- 
 ceedeth wisdom," rejoined the old minister, patting the 
 young girl's cheek. " You can teach me, Cora. I am 
 growing old and feeble, and have lost my logic and apti 
 tude of thought." 
 
 " Mr. Hope," asked Cora, "can you conjecture why it is 
 that mankind is so afflicted ?" 
 
 " The Lord loveth whom he chasteneth." 
 
 "But some are miserable and some are happy, some 
 are born Jilted to be happy, others to be miserable, with 
 out any apparent cause for the distinction." 
 
 " That is an argument against Universalism," replied 
 the old minister, " which maintains that an all-merciful and 
 all-just God would destroy his own attributes by punish 
 ing his own creation. This world is an existence, as truly 
 as will be the future world. If, therefore, punishment is 
 visited upon us, here, in an apparently indiscriminate man 
 ner, for the same, or other inscrutable purposes, punish 
 ment may as surely be visited upon us beyond the grave, 
 In a discriminate manner. But do not tempt me to preach 
 you one of my old sermons." 
 
 Cora mused awhile, and then, with a long, deep sigh, 
 said, as if to herself, 
 
 " How infinitely I am relieved. I was in a total and 
 hopeless eclipse." 
 
 Cora was thinking of her lover.
 
 OR CORA GLENCOE. 421 
 
 " But now, my child, I trust your eclipses have passed 
 over and away, forever. And that reminds me, Cora, that 
 to-morrow afternoon we are to have a partial eclipse of the 
 sun. Did you know that ?" 
 
 " Yes, sir. There is nothing so grand or suggestive to 
 me as an eclipse. Not that the eye can see so much, but 
 the mind grasps the huge and wonderful fact that it is the 
 Supreme Hand which is placing these vast worlds in the 
 vaster universe with greater ease and precision than a boy 
 would place his marbles tit-tat-tow, all in a row." 
 
 The old minister smiled at Cora's apt illustration. 
 
 " Yes," said he. " To His infinite power, worlds are as 
 marbles ; and to His infinite glance, the planets wheeling 
 about the sun are as fire-flies circling the lamp. But did 
 you ever read Cooper's description of a Total Eclipse ?" 
 
 " Not long ago I read it. Although I never saw a total 
 eclipse, I am satisfied that Cooper has given a due and ac 
 curate picture of the grand phenomenon." Hesitating a 
 little, with a faint blush and half-diffident eye, Cora asked, 
 " Mr. Hope, will you laugh at me if I tell you some 
 thing ?" 
 
 "Yes," laughed the old minister in advance, "I will, if 
 it is very amusing." 
 
 " It is not amusing at all, but it may be very laughable, 
 nevertheless." 
 
 " Whatever it is, Cora, I will endeavor to treat it as it 
 deserves," replied Mr. Hope, with an encouraging look. 
 
 " You remember, when I was quite a little girl, how you 
 exercised us in the class which you called ' Praise'? We 
 had to compose hymns and praises." 
 
 " I do, and I also remember that you wrote many little 
 verses of praise and petition, which Grod must have re 
 garded as a tender mother regards the sweet prattle of her 
 child." 
 
 " I can hardly realize now," said Cora, " how pure my 
 heart was then, and how near I felt to God, when writing 
 my little verses to him. " 
 
 " Cora, did you know that I shed tears over some of 
 them ?" 
 
 " No indeed, Mr. Hope ! For why ?" 
 
 " Because they reflected a dreary, desolate childhood, 
 36
 
 422 TEKEL, 
 
 and, in their simple pathos, breathed an exquisite plaint, 
 or elegy, which went to my heart like arrows tipped with 
 fire." 
 
 Cora got up and put her hands half caressingly upon 
 the old minister's shoulders, and with a gaze which was 
 rife with affection and just a little saucy, shook him play 
 fully, and demanded, 
 
 " Why didn't you tell me then that you loved me ? I 
 might have known it from your ceaseless kindness, but I 
 was too young to make discoveries. I lived through all 
 those desperate years thinking that there was no one in 
 the wide world who cared for me. Ah, dear! how deso 
 late I was in yonder Cliff Hall, with none but my fitful 
 uncle." 
 
 " But you have strayed from your text, Cora. What 
 was it that I am to laugh at which vou are going to tell 
 me?" 
 
 " Nay, sir, it is something which you are not to laugh 
 at," protested Cora, merrily. 
 
 " Oh ! the laugh is to be on the other side of the 
 mouth ! Very well, I am ready to hear you." 
 
 " I have dared to write some verses," said Cora, blushing 
 most charmingly. " They were suggested by 'Cooper's 
 Eclipse,' and by the inquiry, ' How is it possible for man 
 to look upon the wonders of Heaven and Earth and yet 
 say, there is no God ?' Which, you are well aware, 
 some persons do say, and many seem to think, judging 
 from their acts. I would not show these verses to a living 
 soul but you," added Cora, laughing; "but I wish you to 
 read them and see if they are at all fit. I have them 
 with my little souvenirs in my trunk." 
 
 " Go get them." 
 
 Cora brought the manuscript, and sat demurely, while 
 the old minister, having adjusted his spectacles, critically 
 read the young girl's effusion. As they will detain the 
 reader but a few moments, we introduce the verses here, 
 not so much on account of their merit, as to give a glimpse 
 of Cora's mental cast, additional to what may have been 
 evolved or disclosed thus far in our narrative.
 
 OR CORA CLENCOE. 423 
 
 "IS THERE NO GOD?" 
 
 The Fool saith in his heart " There is no God ; 
 
 That Man no Maker has, but withers down 
 To tomb like grass resolves into a clod ; 
 
 Reaping on Earth what he on Earth has sown." 
 
 What though a Summer Evening's pomp bestow 
 
 A prouder court than emperor ever trod, 
 And all the heavens with matchless splendors glow? 
 
 The Fool saith in his heart " There is no God." 
 
 What though the whirlwinds wrench, and wreck, and rave, 
 And cowering Seas are scourged as with a rod, 
 
 And cowering Hills cry out to the whipt wave? 
 The Fool saith in his heart " There is no God." 
 
 What though the Sun vouchsafes the goodly Day, 
 
 And countless worlds, obedient to His nod, 
 Gem the far Night with infinite array ? 
 
 The Fool saith in his heart " There is no God." 
 
 " Let there be Light," Jehovah simply said, 
 And from His glance there gathered in the sky 
 
 A dazzling fiery Wonder which has sped 
 Its ceaseless way, and baffled every eye. 
 
 A lesser Wonder rolled from out His palm, 
 
 And put its silver belt about the Earth; 
 Changefully changeless, 'tis as sure and calm 
 
 As when the God that made it gave it birth. 
 
 No stranding argosies bestrew the sky, 
 
 Or crash each other in that lawlike realm; 
 Obedient to the First Command they fly 
 
 With faultless sail and still unerring helm. 
 
 "Now comes the Eclipse," said Mr. Hope, smiling at 
 Cora, while she turned off, askance-like, that he might 
 finish. 
 
 Away, up in the heaven, an opaque shield 
 Superbly wheels the Sun and Earth between, 
 
 Catching the sunlight from its wonted field, 
 While strange untimely shadows supervene. 
 
 Lo ! like a hallowed sheen from Paradise, 
 
 Corona crowns the errant Queen of Night, 
 And while from wildered Earth awe-whispers rise, 
 
 Celestial luster plays before the sight.
 
 424 TF.KEL, 
 
 Man, Beast, and Bird, admit the viewless Power 
 Which worketh wonders in the firmament, 
 
 And where the belt of undue shadows lower, 
 A superstition and a Faith is blent. 
 
 But when the Sun is darkened in his course, 
 The Fool looks up and mutters, " It is odd, 
 
 How is it thus that Night comes on perforce?" 
 And never once bethinks him of a God. 
 
 " Cora," said Mr. Hope, looking over bis spectacles, " I 
 am neither a poet, nor the son of a poet, but in my hasty 
 judgment this is very good At all events, it is much bet 
 ter than I am able to do myself, and I shall not attempt 
 to criticise it." 
 
 Cora, with modest, diffident pleasure, was abashed. Mr. 
 Hope continued, 
 
 " It is very difficult to compose a good short piece of 
 poetry. There is not sufficient space for the mind to gather 
 impetus. The mind is something like the bird, the horse, 
 or the locomotive : a certain distance must be traversed 
 before it can get under full headway." 
 
 "Your comparison is apt, when speaking of Talent; 
 but Genius, to which I do not aspire, is like the lightning ; 
 its first leap its very first inch of flight, is at high speed." 
 
 " You, then, are among those Avho divide talent from 
 genius, rating the one as a faculty and the other as a 
 gift. Now, it is as difficult to tell where one ends and the 
 other begins as it is to run a line between the blended 
 yellow and orange of a rainbow. Genius is merely a 
 name by which to distinguish the highest order of talent." 
 
 " The space between them might then be compared to 
 the space between tweedle-dum and tweedle-dee ?" laughed 
 Cora. 
 
 " Just so," replied the old minister, " granting that you 
 are on an ascending scale." 
 
 "The highest notes," said Cora, "are not always the 
 sweetest." 
 
 " Nor the safest : the strings are more apt to stretch into 
 discord, or snap into confusion." 
 
 " I am so contented with your estimate of niy little poem 
 that I do not think I shall ever attempt another."
 
 OR CORA GLENCOE. 425 
 
 " I should have abused it and put you on your mettle, 
 as the Reviewers did Byron." 
 
 " All the abuse in the world would neither provoke nor 
 taunt me into a poetess." 
 
 " Wouldn't you enjoy turning rhymes ?" 
 
 "Aha! but can one extract gold from granite?" 
 
 " By no means. But many make the endeavor." 
 
 "And fail, miserably fail." 
 
 "As people do in most things else." 
 
 " But then it is more bitter, is it not, to try and be a poet 
 and to utterly fail?" 
 
 " Because rarely do any ever make the trial but the sen 
 sitive, and none but the sensitive ever succeed." 
 
 " Those who are so quick to feel," said Cora. "And 
 failure bears a double sting, that of the mere intellectual 
 bankruptcy, and the still more venomous one of rebuked 
 presumption." 
 
 " True, and you, Cora, can very well forbear to try, for 
 you are witching enough without the laureate chaplet." 
 
 " Mr. Rapid told me once that you never flattered," ob 
 served Cora, saucily. 
 
 " That's more than he can aver of himself, I dare say," 
 replied the old minister, humorously. 
 
 The dinner-bell now warned them to whet their appe 
 tites, and the interview was abruptly closed with the fol 
 lowing question and answer : 
 
 ''Cora, why did you leave me so wildly; in the very 
 midst of our conference ?" 
 
 " Because I felt like War, like a cannon, charged and 
 red-hot shotted to the mouth, impatient to burst and de 
 stroy the Spoilers!" 
 
 36*
 
 426 TEKKL, 
 
 CHAPTER XXXIX 
 
 CORA GLENCOE and Rebecca Ruthven had always been 
 the best of friends, probably from the circumstance that 
 they were different in character, Cora being self-acting 
 and decisive, and Rebecca being mild and malleable. 
 
 Rebecca had called to see Cora, just after her interview 
 with Mr. Hope as per last chapter, and on the morrow, 
 the day of the sun's eclipse, Cora was to go over to old 
 Mr. Ruthven's, some half a mile through the forest from 
 the Parsonage, and she and Rebecca, with pieces of smoked 
 glass, would seek a pleasant spot of which they knew, 
 just half way between the Parsonage and Mr. Ruthven's, 
 where they would chat, view the eclipse, chat again, and 
 separate, each to return to her lodge. 
 
 This arrangement had been made at the instance of Re 
 becca, who longed to unbosom herself to Cora in respect 
 to her maiden anticipations and dreams of the precious de 
 lights which awaited her just behind the front veil of the 
 Future, and which the coming autumn, assisted by the 
 young minister, would shower upon her. Cora's own 
 little secrets were so crude, and fresh, that she felt no ap 
 prehension that they would become too mellow, or spoil 
 on her hands, should she keep them locked away for a 
 season. 
 
 After dinner, on the day of the eclipse, Cora, with her 
 dog companion, which Mr. Hope had cared for since the 
 death of Oswald Huron, and which remembered the young 
 mistress well enough, started through the forest for Re 
 becca's home, guided by a foot-path here and there almost 
 choked up by the summer growth of twigs and bordering 
 shrubs. 
 
 The spot where they were to take their celestial observa 
 tions was a knoll, bare of trees, rocky, and patched with 
 grass and moss. It was called White Mound, and afforded 
 a view of the sky, spacious enough for their astronomical 
 purposes.
 
 OR CORA GLENCOE. 427 
 
 Cora, out in the wildwood, where her voice and footstep 
 might claim elfin freedom, was very happy. She had just 
 sent a salvia to her lover, and soon would he come to 
 her. She tripped along, agile as the chamois doe, singing 
 snatches of forest glees, mocking the birds, catching at 
 flowering woodbines, racing with her dog, and indulging in 
 every little jaunty air and motion which prudery frowns 
 upon. None but her dog, however, saw her garter, or eyed 
 the tricksy dash of her pretty foot, as she rioted in the 
 luxury of the new and joyous life which had come upon her. 
 
 When she reached the half-way spot, she found Rebecca 
 there in advance of her, seated and waiting. Rebecca had 
 become impatient, for she had " something sweet to tell." 
 
 "Why, Becky!" cried Cora, "am I tardy?" 
 
 "No, it is I that am early. I thought I would meet 
 you, instead of waiting for you at home." 
 
 "But I wanted to see your mother and your grandpa." 
 
 " You can see them another time. To-day I wish to 
 have you all to myself." 
 
 Cora sat down on the grass. She soon perceived Re 
 becca's drift, and encouraged her in the way she wished 
 to go. Rebecca, by degrees, unlocked her full bosom, and 
 Cora saw, in the midst of it, in the holy of holies, 
 the image of Garland Hope. She met Rebecca's confidence 
 with intelligent sympathy; played upon her just as she 
 wished to be played upon ; and teased her just as she 
 longed to be teased. 
 
 Rebecca was full of joy. 
 
 Cora, through her smoked glass, glanced momentarily 
 at the sun. Presently she cried, 
 
 " Becky ! look ! the eclipse is at hand ; the moon is 
 just upon the edge of the sun. There is the power and 
 precision of the Creator !" 
 
 A low, deep growl from the dog caused them to turn 
 about. Terror ! Dismay ! aha ! impotent are all the tongues 
 on earth to supply that word of unlimited import and give 
 a name to the fearful thing which swept into the souls of 
 these young, helpless virgins, as out of the thicket two 
 jungle demons sprang and rushed upon them. In a moment 
 Rebecca Ruthven was dragged into the thicket, and Cora, 
 with the desperate strength of a captured gazelle, was
 
 428 TEKEL, 
 
 struggling and writhing and shrieking in the grasp of Pol 
 lution. The mastiff, with a savage bark, rose to the rescue 
 of his mistress, and tore the enemy with fierce fangs. 
 Cora was freed. Wild with terror she sped away, leaving 
 the dog and demon struggling on the ground, while the 
 shrieks of the lost Rebecca Ruthven lent wings to her 
 feet. She burst into the Parsonage like a pallid messen 
 ger fresh from the throne of Panic. Mr. Hope and Gar 
 land hastened to her. 
 
 " Go! to the White Mound! Rebecca! Hell is there ! 
 great God for a thunderbolt !" and she stamped her feet 
 in the fury of her excitement. 
 
 Mr. Hope sank down, an impotent old man Like a 
 wild stag Garland rushed away, only to look upon the 
 ashes of all his hopes. Coming upon the spot, he saw the 
 faithful dog, ripped open by a knife blade, and gasping in 
 the throes of death. Searching swiftly, he found the 
 sweetest flower of his holiest heart, pale, lifeless, and 
 abased with the doom that was sealed upon her. Like 
 an angelic ruin she lay along the ground, limp from the 
 stroke of Satan. As Garland Hope stood over his ravished 
 love and gazed down upon her, what was it that over 
 whelmed and congealed his breast ? Was it sorrow ? No. 
 Was it pain ? No. Was it agony ? No ! Poverty of 
 my mother tongue, where is the gigantic word that will 
 tell me what it was, that I may score it upon the hearts 
 and stamp it upon the foreheads of the living, and strike 
 it into the tombstones of the dead ? 
 
 And ah, the broken virgin ! Think of the extreme mo 
 ment when her all of life and hope and joy was shattered to 
 atoms while in the grasp of one whose lightest word was 
 terror and whose kiss was death. Would that I could 
 gather all the shrieks, and cries, and moans, and slogans 
 of revolt which have startled and rent the air since the 
 world began, put them into one vast crucible and reduce 
 them to a single white-hot word ! With it I would tell the 
 tale of Diana Rapid and Rebecca Ruthven. I would write 
 it upon the brows of my countrywomen, as a damning re 
 proach upon our lawgivers and the chivalry of men. A 
 few years, forsooth, of strict, safe, and wholesome labor, 
 to balance all this misery and coal-black infamy!
 
 OR CORA GLENCOE. 439 
 
 When Cora, by ministering to the stricken old man be 
 side her, had, in a measure, forced herself into necessary 
 calmness, in view of the confidence which had recently 
 passed between them, she ventured to ask, what punish 
 ment the law would visit upon the Spoiler for blasting the 
 life of the guileless Rebecca, and turning the peaceful, joy 
 ful houses of Hope and Ruthven into habitations of woe. 
 
 " The farce which usually follows the tragedy," replied 
 the old minister feebly, " a term in prison, I know not 
 its duration, so subject is it to abridgment." 
 
 " It should be death /" said Cora, sternly, and stamping 
 her foot as if spurning the law; and as she thought of Re 
 becca, she cried out, with vehement intensity, " Oh, it 
 should be death a thousand times DEATH !" and her 
 bands clinched and her eyes blazed with revolt. 
 
 Cora was never fitful, frivolous, or blindly passionate, 
 but a girl of disciplined mental strength and fortitude, 
 trained to hardship and self-command, and accustomed 
 to speak from reason rather than emotion. When, there 
 fore, she said it should be death, she not only felt it through 
 every fiber, but thought it in mind and soul and every 
 faculty of intelligence and judgment. 
 
 But who can go into the once peaceful cottage and pla 
 cid life of the Ruthvens, and tell of the heart-breaking 
 scene which followed, when Rebecca, piteously moaning, 
 was borne in, and with constrained solemnity placed, like 
 a defiled but still sacred image, upon a chaste white couch ! 
 Let everlasting woe be unto the soul which does not pity 
 and double pity her ! and let a blacker doom, if can be, 
 come upon him who would withhold his voice and vote 
 from justice, simple justice which is death ! Yes, death ! 
 we do not fear to say it, and repeat it, and ring it aloud. 
 If demons elect themselves to die, let them die and let 
 good men and chaste women live. 
 
 The grandfather and the mother had not known of this 
 terrible blast upon their house and name until they saw 
 their broken child and jewel brought in before them. Mrs. 
 Ruthven 's lungs were constitutionally weak. This sudden 
 stoop of agony, shame, and horror sent the panic-stricken 
 blood surging'through her bosom, breaking its boundaries, 
 and gushing from her mouth. She fell across the couch
 
 430 TF.KEL, 
 
 on which, like a pallid wreck, her sweet, young, only 
 daughter lay. The white-haired, tottering- grandfather, 
 whose honest pride and every hope was centered in his 
 grandchild, in whom he blossomed anew, reeled like an 
 aged oak uprooted by a descending thunder-shaft, his 
 heart burst within him at the clash of his calamity, and he 
 fell headlong to the floor, a spent, rifted, and lifeless thing 
 of clay. He was dead. Tragedy was there, in that once 
 peaceful, hopeful cottage, more deep, blood-red, and rend 
 ing, than ever pressed down upon the couch of Desde- 
 mona. 
 
 Where was Garland Hope ? 
 
 Out in the woods, the young minister was stretched 
 along the ground, like some prone and rigid statue cast 
 upon its face, and impotent to move. 
 
 Creswood was chilled as by an overshadowing winter- 
 cloud shuddering and shaking down its frosty rime. Then 
 came the reaction, and swift, bold feet traversed the hills 
 and glens of the forest, and stern men stood guard to in 
 tercept the Spoiler. But more of this anon. 
 
 The days passed gloomily away. Cora, in grief herself, 
 but surrounded by a family steeped in the gall of bitter 
 ness, spent the most of her time alone. She went out one 
 morning into the orchard, then to the pasture, which was 
 near the house, and climbed up on the fence. She sat 
 there looking at the animals peacefully grazing, or quietly 
 reposing in the shade of the scattered trees. 
 
 Not far from where she sat, she saw a pale horse 
 stretched in the shade.. Cora shouted. The horse raised 
 his head, and looked around. Seeing Cora, he got up, 
 shook himself, and woke up the hills with his clarion neigh, 
 clear and reverberating as the peal of a silver trumpet 
 With a proud and imperial step, he slowly approached the 
 young girl. Cora, forgetting the fierce temper of the stal 
 lion, having recognized him as the rapid favorite of her 
 Rapid lover, got down from the fence and went out to meet 
 him, by which indiscreet action she put her life in jeopardy. 
 The horse came up to her and rubbed his head against her 
 shoulder, with low, soft whinnies. Cora caressed him, 
 and laid her cheek againt his velvet jaw. She felt in her 
 pocket and drew out a little paper of salt. She had been
 
 OR CORA GLENCOE. 431 
 
 in the orchard eating apples and salt, after the manner of 
 girls. She emptied the salt into her palm, and the horse 
 ravenously licked it away. He then begged for more, but 
 she had no more to give him. In the great trouble which 
 had rushed upon the Parsonage, the animals had been 
 neglected. The pale stallion, unsatisfied and impatient, 
 reared upon his hind legs and fought the air with his hoofs. 
 Cora sprang back. The stallion rushed upon her, and around 
 her, leaping, rearing, prancing, and breaking away, and 
 spurning the ground in the glory of his strength. Cora 
 was frightened and dismayed. Whenever she attempted 
 to move away, the horse came about her like a whirlwind. 
 One stroke of his hoof would break every bone in her body. 
 He bit at her, as if he would seize her in his gleaming 
 white teeth and shake her to piec'es. She could see that 
 at each return his eye was gathering fire and ferocity, and 
 she quaked with terror as she found herself in the jaws 
 of a strange and unanticipated peril. In the midst of it, 
 she heard a voice of command so stern, metallic, and even 
 fierce, that the very roots of her hair tingled. The stall! 
 stopped with the suddenness of a pistol-shot. Turnin, 
 about, Cora saw Cassel Rapid hastening to her. With a cry 
 which meant almost everything, she sprang toward him antf 
 ran into his arms. She put her arms tightly about his neck, 
 and hid her face in his hair. He forced her face in front 
 of him, and kissed her passionately in the mouth. Cora 
 did not revolt, but clung to him, almost frantically, as if 
 he were the sheet-anchor of her safety. She felt the need 
 of protection, not only immediate, but for always, and she 
 buried herself in his dauntless breast, like a child fleeing 
 from the terrors of darkness into its mother's bosom. 
 
 "You understand me, now, little one?" asked Cassel, 
 while he held her in his arms. 
 
 " You are my war-eagle," said Cora. 
 
 " You are my dove," rejoined the lover. 
 
 " You are my lion," cried Cora, almost ready to shriek 
 with happiness and accumulated excitement. 
 
 "You are my lamb," was the gentle reply, and Cassel 
 again forced Cora's lips to his. 
 
 After numberless endearments, Cora looked into her 
 lover's eyes with a long, thrilling, agonizing gaze. She
 
 432 TEKEL, 
 
 was thinking of Rebecca, and the Hopes, and the Ruth- 
 vens. 
 
 "I know it all," said Cassel. 
 
 "What shall be done?" 
 
 A black frown gathered to Cassel's brow, and a lurid, 
 relentless light leaped to his violet eyes. Cora felt that 
 in her lover was an invincible spirit that would draw 
 blades with Apollyon himself, in a question of right and 
 wrong. 
 
 "Please do not look so terrible," pleaded Cora. 
 
 " I cannot help it. I am thinking, not only of what is, 
 but of what might have been. You were there, my pure 
 young love. Great heavens! if this thing had come upon 
 you, and, for the second time, upon me, I would have 
 devoted my life and fortune to slaying every spoiler upon 
 the face of the earth. If that is not the truth, may the 
 great Jehovah annihilate me now!" 
 
 Creswood was in arms, and every honest heart was stern 
 ,,and fixed for justice, if justice can be visited upon a crime, 
 an unprovoked and inexcusable damnation, which trans 
 cends the retributive power of the mortal arm. Rebecca 
 Ruthven had given the name nay, the names of her de 
 stroyers, for she knew them well. They were two men 
 demons who had recently been employed as carpenter 
 and plasterer in repairing the Ruthven cottage, in antici 
 pation of the young girl's approaching bridehood. There 
 they had seen Rebecca, in her blonde loveliness, and she 
 had parleyed with them, daily, in respect to the repairs. 
 Premeditation had long been in their guilty souls. 
 
 The sheriff with his aids, and all the arms-bearing males 
 of Creswood, among whom the Hopes were sacred and 
 the Ruthvens honored, were now afield. Every pass- 
 way from the original "Crescent Wold," of which " Cres 
 wood" was a contraction both in name and fact, was 
 guarded day and night, and the destroyers, like hyenas 
 surrounded in the jungle, were being hunted to the center, 
 without intermission or time for rest. 
 
 There were several bad characters in the neighborhood, 
 chiefly men who, like Jonas Aiken, had boarded with Amy 
 Turn bolt down among the huts on the Starboard Strand, 
 and who yet sojourned there at convenient or inconvenient
 
 OR CORA GLEXCOE. 433 
 
 intervals. Consciously guilty of many misdeeds, they 
 were alarmed at the rousing of the people, and were by 
 no means satisfied that the sheriff did not carry in his 
 pocket warrants for their arrest, or that the people, now 
 that they were out in full force, would not make a clean 
 sweep of the neighborhood. They therefore rallied to the 
 destroyers of Rebecca Ruthven, banded themselves to 
 gether, and, finding escape hopeless by land, the whole 
 guilty party determined to seize the Whitecap and put to 
 sea. 
 
 The outlaws, for we may well call them such, were 
 known to be burrowed somewhere in Creswood, and plans 
 were being perfected by which to capture them, without 
 bloodshed if possible. But it was the tacit understanding 
 among the more prominent citizens, and all who follow in 
 the train of determined leaders, that the two destroyers 
 should, when captured, be hung, the sheriff and the laws 
 to the contrary nevertheless. But a rumor, which gradually 
 ripened into a well-authenticated report, was rapidly sprea^^ 
 abroad, that Miss Ruthven was mistaken in the names and 
 visages of her destroyers. A respectable and well-known 
 country merchant, our old friend Mr. Nutt, who kept a 
 store in the next-to-nothing of a village back in the woods 
 a few miles from Gale Island, with several other honest 
 and disinterested citizens, affirmed that the accused were 
 both at the country store, a quarter of an hour before the 
 eclipse began, the time at which the outrage was said to 
 have been committed, and continued there until sundown. 
 This they would swear to in a court of justice. But Re 
 becca Ruthven did not vary from her original and positive 
 accusation, and although the citizens were not so ready to 
 organize a mob as they had at first been, they were equally 
 determined to catch the men, whose actions, in secreting 
 themselves, did not conduce to establish their innocence, 
 but the contrary. 
 
 Captain Gale was sitting on his portico. Better from 
 that point than any other, he could watch, with his spy 
 glass, up and down the beach for more than three miles 
 each way, to see that no skiff put to sea to carry the out 
 laws beyond the strict lines of Creswood. At night, the 
 
 37
 
 434 TEKEL, 
 
 skiffs along the strands were gathered at Gale Island, and 
 guarded. 
 
 It was late in the afternoon. Several watermen, in obe 
 dience to improvised regulations, had brought their skiffs 
 to anchor in Gale Island Bay, and were now on the cottage 
 portico, conversing with Captain Gale about the excitement, 
 and interchanging conjectures and rumors. Cassel Rapid, 
 coming down from the forest, tied his horse on the verge of 
 the canal, and hailed the island for some one to ferry him 
 over. One of the watermen, at the request of Captain 
 Gale, brought him over in a trice, no, in a skiff, for we 
 are now relating facts. 
 
 Johnny Gale, and Caddy, and Cora were sitting on the 
 Tarpeian Rock, Cora's old favorite seat. The two girls 
 were raking Johnny fore and aft about Linda Boyd, and 
 Johnny was retaliating by accusing Caddy of having no 
 sweetheart at all, good or bad, and attempting to tease 
 Cora by pronouncing Cassel Rapid a humbug ; the meanest 
 and most conceited fellow he had ever observed between 
 any two New Years. 
 
 "tf ou shall not abuse him," said Cora, " unless you do 
 it to his face, and you dare not do that." 
 
 " I've already done that, to my heart's content," fibbed 
 Johnny, " and now I expect to abuse him the world over." 
 
 "He'll thrash you," said Caddy. 
 
 " By Juggernaut, he isn't man enough," replied Johnny, 
 glancing complacently down at his proportions. 
 
 " But he's b'hoy enough," said Cora, laughing ; " and I'll 
 tell you, Mr. Johnny, if you whet your tongue against 
 him, I will hint to him to cut you out with Mrs. Boyd." 
 
 "And he'll take the hint, as a matter of course, that is, 
 he would, if he didn't have to paddle over Lake Huron, or 
 some sort of a Huron, in order to be able;" and Johnny 
 roared with laughter at his clumsy pun. "But I've al 
 ready got my little fate bottled up, corked, and sealed. I 
 ' laid ' for Cassel, and caught him upon the hook of one of 
 his most precious proverbs." 
 
 " How did you accomplish so great a feat of angling ?" 
 asked Caddy. 
 
 " You know, Caddy, if you ever read your Bible, hjovv 
 Nathan 'laid' for David, caught him fast, and then de-
 
 OR CORA OLENCOE. 435 
 
 nounced him with, ' Thou art the man !' Well, I am 
 bushed Cassel pretty much the same way, and then came 
 down upon him with the announcement of, ' / am the 
 man.' He saw that I had horn-swoggled him, and like 
 the best fellow in the world, which he is, he told me 
 to pass in my checks and mosey along to glory." 
 
 "Love has made a most cunning diplomatist of you 
 Mr. Johnny," laughed Cora. 
 
 The conversation was suddenly broken off by the re 
 port of a pistol-shot from the direction of Gale Island. 
 Another similar report quickly followed, then three or 
 four more in rapid succession, among which could be dis 
 tinguished the louder discharge of a shot-gun. 
 
 " What is it ?" asked Cora. 
 
 "It's at the island, I must go!" cried Johnny, who 
 started away. 
 
 " Are you going to leave us here alone ?" screamed 
 Caddy. 
 
 Johnny halted, undecided whether to go or stay. Look 
 ing homeward, he saw a man rush up to the pale stallion, 
 which was tied close to the edge of the canal, and mount 
 him. The fierce animal reared, and plunged, and shook 
 off the man, then struck him to the earth with his fore 
 feet, and trampled upon him Cora turned as pale as 
 marble, she feared that it was her lover, and she strained 
 her eyes to see if he would rise from the ground ; but he 
 did not. She was just about to rush away to her lover's 
 assistance, when a man appeared over the bank of the 
 canal, and started up the beach, running with all his 
 speed. In a few moments an agile form sprang upon the 
 prancing stallion, wheeled him, and launched forward up 
 the strand in swift and magnificent pursuit. Nearer and 
 nearer came pursuer and pursued, and Cora, in the highest 
 pitch of excitement, stood upon the Tarpeian Rock; for 
 she had recognized her lover, with the lasso poised above 
 his head, and in chase of another Jonas Aiken. She fully 
 expected to see the man rush into the sea, and the pale 
 horse breasting the waves and carrying his rider within 
 dagger-stroke of the fugitive ; she fully expected to see 
 the vigorous arm lifted, and the steel, upon its deadly 
 errand, flash downward with three decisive strokes ; for
 
 436 TEKEL, 
 
 it was all but as the realization of a vivid dream, long 
 past. But the pale horse came like the wind, and with 
 an unerring cast, the coil of the lasso dropped like a ser 
 pent about the neck of the fleeting fugitive. Sudden as 
 the stroke of a hammer, the stallion stopped, with his 
 forefeet buried to the fetlocks in the solid sand. The 
 fugitive was violently overthrown. Johnny Gale hast 
 ened forward, and recognizing one of Rebecca's destroy 
 ers, he seized him by the throat, dragged him up, and in 
 a voice of passion said, 
 
 " You are one of the hell-hounds who have brought woe 
 into this community !" 
 
 Raising his arm, he was about to strike the man to the 
 earth, when Cassel cried, 
 
 " Hold, Johnny Ithis is not your game." 
 
 Cassel dismounted, and the man was secured. Turning 
 to the two girls, Cassel said, 
 
 "Come, we must hasten to Gale Island, there are 
 some wounded men there, Cora, will you go with us ?" 
 
 " Good God !" cried Caddy. " Is father hurt ?" 
 
 " Only a flesh wound, in the arm, there is no danger, 
 as far as he is concerned." 
 
 But Caddy thought there was. 
 
 " What has occurred at the island ?" asked Johnny. 
 
 " Come ou, and I'll tell you as we go. But first, Cora, 
 do you know this man?" 
 
 " No," replied Cora, looking at the prisoner. " But 
 what has happened ? Why, your clothes are ringing 
 wet !" 
 
 " I swam the canal, that is all." 
 
 As they proceeded to Gale Island, Cassel explained. 
 
 " Six men attempted to carry the Whitecap to sea. Cap 
 tain Gale discovered that a strange crew was aboard of 
 his vessel, and that the anchor cable was cut. He quickly 
 mustered a force of three watermen and one landlubber, 
 the latter being me, who chanced to be at the cottage. We 
 were all well armed. The rogues were trying to work the 
 vessel out of the canal into the open water. The cabin 
 and hatchways were closed, and the enemy were obliged 
 to remain on deck and stand their ground, or jump over 
 board into the bay. One of our men fired a shot, and a
 
 OR CORA GLENCOE. 437 
 
 man dropped. We came to as close quarters as the situa 
 tion would allow. I fired and another man dropped. The 
 rogues returned the fire, and one of our men was wounded. 
 Captain Gale opened on them with his shot-gun just as a 
 ball from the enemy passed through his arm. Three of 
 the enemy were down, one threw up his hands and sur 
 rendered, and two jumped overboard. 
 
 " ' There they go !' shouted Captain Gale. 
 
 "'Who?' 
 
 '" The fates of Rebecca Ruthven.' 
 
 "Our two un wounded watermen ran for their skiffs. 
 The fugitives escaped up the opposite bank of the canal. 
 I swam the canal with one of my pistols in my teeth. 
 When I got upon the beach my horse was pawing one of 
 the men, while the other this devil walking before us 
 was fleeing up the strand. I mounted and pursued. You 
 saw the rest." 
 
 "Are you hurt ?" asked Cora. 
 
 " No, I lost a lock of hair, and my wrist is grazed, but 
 no damage." 
 
 When they came to the canal, the man who had been 
 thrown and hoof-beaten by the stallion, was dead. Cora, 
 as soon as she saw his face, sprang back and whispered 
 with horror, 
 
 il 'Tishe!" 
 
 " Who ?" asked Cassel. 
 
 " The man who killed my dog." 
 
 Cassel understood her. Turning to his horse, he patted 
 him affectionately, and said, 
 
 "This is the horse who ' knoweth his rider' in more 
 ways than one.'' 
 
 The party were ferried over to the island, and soon 
 entered the cottage, where they found no little confusion. 
 There were five prisoners, three of whom were wounded 
 severely, and two unhurt, except that the fugitive whom 
 Cassel had lassoed was jerked nearly out of joint in the 
 region of the neck. A surgeon or rather, a physician 
 had been sent for : also the sheriff. 
 
 "Captain Gale," said Cassel, "let me dress your 
 wound." 
 
 37*
 
 438 TEKEL, 
 
 " My wife has dressed it, but I'm afraid she's a raw 
 hand at the business, it feels too much bound up." 
 
 Cassel took off the binding-, washed the wound, passed 
 a skein of white silk through it, and skillfully bandaged it. 
 
 " That's a powerful limb of yours, captain ; and all 
 you need do to bring it around as good as new, is to keep 
 it cool and beat off the fever." 
 
 " That's about all a man has to do to live," laughed 
 Captain Gale, "keep Death out and breath in. But 
 thank you, Cassel, I feel much easier under your manipu 
 lations." 
 
 " What do you propose to do with these prisoners ?" 
 asked Cassel. 
 
 " Turn them over to the sheriff." 
 
 " But the one whom I captured ?" 
 
 " Him also, unless you claim him." 
 
 " What is his name ?" 
 
 " Hines." 
 
 " I wish Garland Hope were here; I'd know better 
 whether to claim this wretch or not. He ought to be 
 hung." 
 
 " Let the law hang him." 
 
 " But it won't hang him " 
 
 " Well, I've nothing more to say, just now. You know 
 there is a report that Miss Ruthven is mistaken." 
 
 " I am sure she is not mistaken," said Cassel. 
 
 "Why so sure ?" 
 
 " Because Cora has recognized the dead man on the op 
 posite bank of the canal as the one who was in company 
 with this Hines when the deed was done. What is the 
 name of this dead man ?" 
 
 " Butler, he was a plasterer." 
 
 " Exactly. Hines the carpenter, and Butler the plas 
 terer ; the very names which Miss Ruthven adheres to. 
 She knows them well, and cannot be mistaken. Cora her 
 self recognizes one of them." 
 
 " It's a hard thing," said Captain Gale, thinking of all 
 the anguish which the Ruthvens and Hopes were suffer 
 ing, of the bankrupt Rebecca, and the bankrupt young 
 minister. 
 
 " Hard ! It's Hell!" said Cassel Rapid, with corrugated
 
 OR CORA GLENCOE. 439 
 
 brow. " Captain Gale, you shot a man to-day. What did 
 you do it for ?" 
 
 " For turning pirate and attempting to rob me of my 
 property." 
 
 " Would the loss of the Whitecap have been an irrepa 
 rable loss to you ?" 
 
 " By no means, though it would have been heavy." 
 
 " Did you try to kill the fellow ?" 
 
 " Of course I did. I had a right to try, and to succeed, 
 too, if I could do so. But I am glad that the affair ended 
 with so little mortality." 
 
 " If you had killed a man during this attempted piracy 
 upon you, the law would have said Amen." 
 
 "Yes." 
 
 " And yet you are justified by an attempt, merely, to 
 steal your boat; and this attempt was, in one sense, a 
 measure of self-preservation with the pirates. Suppose, 
 however, that they had not only attempted, but had suc 
 ceeded, to pillage Gale Island of its chastity, and honor, 
 and joy, and peace, and very life ! What then ?" 
 
 "I see your drift, Cassel ; but proceed." 
 
 "A blind man could see it," replied Cassel, sternly. 
 "An injury which can never be amended, an outrage 
 which can never be canceled, a wound which can never 
 be healed or even soothed, an infamy which can never be 
 blotted out, has been put upon an innocent, pure-hearted, 
 and blameless young virgin, and about her now sweeps a 
 maelstrom of woe which engulfs not only herself but 
 many of her heart-aching friends. The power and prayers 
 and riches of the whole earth are impotent to restore her, 
 or even patch up this most superlative wrong. The same 
 with Garland Hope. What would have been the loss of 
 the Whitecap to you in comparison with what he has lost ! 
 Can you even imagine what that gentle true heart within 
 him suffers ? Old Mr. Ruthven, an honored patriarch of 
 your county, is killed by it. Mrs. Ruthven, as amiable 
 and sweet a mother as ever caressed a child, is stricken 
 to her bed, from which she will never rise until summoned 
 by God himself. Rebecca will be a living and polluted 
 statue until the grave redeems her. Gloom rests like a 
 pall in the home of the Hopes. It is done, and Omnipo-
 
 440 TEKEL, 
 
 tent power itself cannot undo it. Who did it? The 
 wretch is here in your own house, a very poison to the 
 air. Rebecca is almost without a champion. Her lover 
 is as mild and gentle as a lamb. He is, moreover, a min 
 ister and priest of Heaven, and cultivated conscience may 
 make him shrink from the red task which clamors for 
 performance. But is it not enough to make him curse 
 God and die ? Is it not enough to make him dash the 
 Book to earth, spurn the commandment ' Thou shalt not 
 kill,' and rush to vengeance, retribution, justice, every 
 thing which might be fierce and rectifying ? Suppose he 
 does. The pusillanimous letter of the Statute will hang 
 him. If he does not, the spoiler goes to the penitentiary, 
 in this State for life, in many other States for a few years. 
 What does ' for life' signify ? It means simply until a 
 change of government, until a certificate of good behavior 
 is presented, well underwritten with the signatures of 
 scheming men, or until some candidate needs another vote 
 perhaps." 
 
 [NOTE. Without desiring to make a distinction, we refer 
 the reader, as an illustration of Cassel's truth, to the fact, 
 that, among the convicts pardoned during the year 1869 
 by the Governor of Illinois, were seven, each of whom had 
 been convicted and imprisoned for Rape. Where are 
 their victims ?] 
 
 Calmly looking into Captain Gale's honest face, Cassel 
 Rapid said, in continuation, 
 
 " Captain Gale, you are a man whom I respect in every 
 sense of the word. You are an exemplar to your neigh 
 bors. You have lived a life of propriety, integrity, order, 
 and peace. Since you had a voice you have sustained the 
 laws of your country. Your hobby has been, 'let the 
 Law take its course.' You have even subjected the 
 Whitecap to this, your hobby. But coolly, do you not 
 think that this wretch should die ?" 
 
 " But I am not the person to kill him." 
 
 " Who is the person ?" 
 
 " I cannot say." 
 
 " Suppose that it had been Caddy, instead of Rebecca; 
 who then would have been the person?" 
 
 Captain Gale, without reply, looked out of a near win 
 dow. Cassel continued :
 
 OR CORA OLENCOE. 441 
 
 " It is written in the hearts of the people, and upon every 
 leaf of chivalric history, that death should be the sequel 
 to this worse than death. The Law should visit the pun 
 ishment, like an unquailing and champion executioner ; and 
 that Law should be set in unnumbered frames, and enriched 
 with flowers, and hung upon the walls of cities, and in the 
 trees of the forest, as the jewel of our statute books, and 
 a pledge to our countrywomen that we are men. Great 
 Jehovah ! when I suffer myself to think of it, I thirst for 
 the blood of the Spoiler ! 1 killed Jonas Aiken, Cap 
 tain Gale. Tell that to the winds, and let them carry it to 
 the four quarters of the globe. Tell it to the sheriff, as it 
 is your lawful duty to do, and let him arrest me. I dare 
 you to do it. I tell you again, that I, Cassel Pontiac Rapid, 
 killed Jonas Aiken. What say you ?" 
 
 " Hush, Cassel," was Captain Gale's reply. 
 
 " We agree," said young Rapid. " I would engage to 
 revolutionize America upon this one question, if I could 
 only reach the ears of my countrymen. They don't think 
 about it, unless it is brought home to them, and then it is 
 too late to think, and they have to act." 
 
 Cassel's words may read as though he were unduly ex 
 cited, but he was not. He was in earnest, and his voice 
 was as stable and regular and clear as the ring of silver. 
 
 CHAPTER XL. 
 
 To those of our readers who feel an interest in the Cause 
 which this narrative advocates, we promise that the en 
 suing chapter shall be exceedingly interesting, and the 
 promise is not a piece of presumption on the part of the 
 author, for we are, and have been, dealing in facts, para 
 mount to the creative powers of our pen, and demanding 
 simply a concise and truthful record. 
 
 The sheriff with his posse came down to Gale Island and 
 took possession of the prisoners.
 
 442 TEKEL, 
 
 Hines, the jungle demon, was confined in jail under two 
 indictments,-^-one in connection with the ruin of Rebecca 
 Ruthven, the other for piracy upon the Whitecap. His 
 bail was very heavy, and ke could not raise it. We are dis- 
 regai'ding legal and mystifying technicalities. 
 
 In the midst of the deplorable incidents affecting the 
 commune of Creswood, there came a letter from New York 
 to Captain Gale. The sturdy mariner was not upon his 
 island, but was back at the little village gossiping, with 
 his wounded arm in a sling. Mrs. Gale, recognizing the 
 handwriting of Carroll May, did not hesitate to open the 
 letter in her husband's absence. Carroll's communication 
 was peculiarly apropos. It began by stating that Johnny 
 had left New York without giving any definite idea as to 
 where he was going. " It is likely," wrote Carroll, " that 
 he has gone out with some surveying expedition ; but 
 wherever he may be, you need give yourself no care, for 
 Johnny is big enough to take his own part, and that of two 
 or three more, if necessary, one more, at all events," and 
 here Carroll hinted at Linda. 
 
 Carroll wrote of himself as " getting on finely," and as 
 being in " very good spirits," which gives additional proof 
 that it is possible for the human heart to continue its regu 
 lar beats, even after it has been broken all to pieces by a 
 love stroke. The letter continued : 
 
 " Uncle Gale, I have often thought of that engraved 
 dagger with its Tekel on the point, and of Jonas Aiken 
 and his undoubted crime. Recently I have figured as as 
 sociate counsel for the plaintiff in a case of a similar and 
 exceeding outrage. The plaintiff is a little girl not more 
 than fifteen years of age, and the criminal, or defendant, a 
 banker of wealth, resident in this city. The banker was 
 sentenced to a few years' imprisonment, with the prospect 
 of a speedy, purchased, pardon. He would have been 
 mobbed but for the strenuous efforts of the police efforts, 
 by-the-way, worthy of a better aim. We are now prepar 
 ing to strike high in the figures of his wealth, for damages. 
 The little girl was poor, but lofty minded, respectable, and 
 pure, and language could not tell you of the depths into 
 which this infamy has plunged her and her kindred. 
 Our law firm is engaged in the suit for damages, and we
 
 OR CORA GLENCOE. 443 
 
 intend to succeed, or put it through every court of justice 
 and equity in the land. But if the mountains were of gold, 
 and she had it all, it would never give back to that sensi 
 tive and sweet young girl the normal peace of her soul, or 
 the integrity of her contemplations. Her life is envenomed, 
 and she feels that a leprosy Avill always hang about her. 
 She feels that she is utterly blasted by this caress of Hell; 
 that she must hide her face in shame ; that she must forego 
 her lover ; forego all the delights and pure proximities of 
 life ; everything in fact that lights the eye or glads the 
 heart, and spend her time in solitary tryst with the heart 
 ache. It is a shame upon American manhood that these 
 deathly grievances should not be met with Death. A term 
 in prison, an abridged term in all probability, to offset 
 the ruin of our women ! Every honest man should revolt 
 against the law, defy the law-makers, or become law-makers 
 themselves and to some purpose. This little girl's father, 
 and brothers, and cousins, all swear, by their eternal souls, 
 that the ravisher shall die as soon as his foot is free from 
 the gates of his confinement. They are a resolute family, 
 springing from Revolutionary stock, and will wait a hun 
 dred years, if life were so long, that they may visit jus 
 tice." 
 
 When Mrs. Gale, with tears in her eyes, had read thus 
 far, thinking not only of the little New York girl, but also 
 of Rebecca Ruthven, she earnestly said to herself, 
 
 "And God grant that all of her kindred may live till the 
 hour of retribution comes. What woman could love or 
 respect any man who would not defend her purity, or 
 avenge her spoliation ? I know what my old lion would 
 do, notwithstanding his reverence for Law, and his preach 
 ing about the ' law must take its course.' If demagogues 
 will not protect us with their laws, which are chiefly gotten 
 of corruption, then let our household lions themselves rend 
 the demons who crouch in the jungle, watching for their 
 opportunity. That is a Right, for the exercise of which I 
 shall always contend, whether it be called Man's Right, 
 Woman's Right, Humanity's Right, or God's Right." 
 
 The conclusion of Carroll's letter had no bearing upon 
 this little history, and it is therefore suppressed. Mrs. 
 Gale, having finished it, mused awhile.
 
 444 TEKEL, 
 
 " Laws," said she to herself, " are strange things any 
 how. Suppose that one of these demons should come in 
 here right now, and that I, knowing his purpose, should 
 take that pistol there and shoot him dead. What would 
 the law do ? Nothing. But suppose that I could not shoot 
 him, and that he should make himself the master here, and 
 my husband should come home, and I should tell him, and 
 he should hunt up the demon, as I know he would, and 
 shoot him dead. What would the law do then ? It would 
 hang my husband for murder, or imprison him for man 
 slaughter. And mind you, I kill the demon before he is 
 the master, and, in the other case, my husband kills him 
 after he is the master. What sense is there in such laws 
 as that ? Again, suppose my husband is here when the 
 demon comes in at first, guilty of intention merely, and my 
 husband shoots him. The law sleeps. But if the demon 
 should bind my husband, and then master me and make 
 himself guilty of the act, and my husband should break 
 loose and follow him out and kill him, to-day, to-morrow, 
 or next week, then the cranky and abominable law wakes 
 up against my husband/ What sense is there in such 
 laws as that ? Will our legislators tell me ?" And Mrs. 
 Gale looked scornfully toward the Seat of Government. 
 "There's too much gingerbread work and fine lace about 
 law anyhow. Why don't they make it simple, so that they 
 can understand it themselves, the simpletons ?" 
 
 It was some time before Hines was able to secure coun 
 sel, as almost everybody was incensed against him. Dur 
 ing this self-dependent interim, fearful that a certain trick 
 which he had played upon the country merchant Mr. Nutt, 
 and upon several other good men and witnesses, might not 
 stand him in stead, he marked out for himself the follow 
 ing line of procedure and defense. He would, if possible, 
 get himself tried first for his lesser crime, of piracy. He 
 would declare himself innocent of the ruin of Miss Ruth- 
 ven, plead guilty to the charge of piracy, but extenuate 
 his guilt by reminding the court of the great hue and cry 
 against him, and which, for self-preservation, had compelled 
 him to an extreme resort ; to wit : an attempt to escape 
 by means of the Whitecap, but with no ultimate design of 
 destroying the vessel or keeping it permanently from the
 
 OR CORA OLENCOE. 445 
 
 owner. He would maintain an intention to have run the 
 vessel into port, safe from the fury of Creswood, from 
 whence he would have notified Captain Gale, that the 
 property might have been recovered with as little loss or 
 delay as possible. He would then appeal to the mercy of 
 the court, secure for himself the shortest term of imprison 
 ment, at the expiration of which, when he came to be tried 
 for his greater crime, he would have the advantages of the 
 lapse of time, with its changes and forgetful ness, a calmer 
 community, and whatever of sympathy his past imprison 
 ment might beget for him. The prisoner discovered some 
 tact within himself. 
 
 But " circumstances alter cases," and the circumstance 
 of his having at length secured the aid of counsel, and the 
 knowledge that he would be tried in the order of his crimes, 
 and the cheering information, through his counsel, that he 
 would be able to establish an alibi, caused him adroitly to 
 reverse his battle front, and willingly to accept the " ty 
 ranny of the docket," as he had at first been pleased to 
 term the consecutiveness of the judicial calendar. 
 
 We have already alluded to the puzzling fact that mer 
 chant Nutt and several other good citizens had expressed 
 themselves able conscientiously to swear that both Hines 
 and Butler were at the store of the merchant before, 
 during, and after the precisely-timed coming of Rebecca's 
 calamity. Their oaths would be based upon the infalli 
 bility of Mr. Nutt's clock-dial, which prided itself in keep 
 ing tick and time with the sun. 
 
 The prisoner, who was not unprepared for this different 
 phase, but who had all along had reason to calculate on 
 it, in the event that the merchant and his co-witnesses did 
 not, in the general indignation, turn their backs upon him 
 and bridle their capable tongues, now determined to prove 
 an alibi an elsewhere, and in his second trial, whenever 
 that might be, to plead " not guilty," and sustain his plea 
 upon the good ground that all Creswood had been in arms 
 against him without cause, thereby coercing him into piracy 
 upon the Whitecap, as a measure of pure self-defense, a 
 pressing and absolute life-measure. 
 
 The day of trial was near at hand. In addition to the 
 ^ 38
 
 446 TEKEL, 
 
 hackneyed officer of the law, the prosecution had engaged 
 able counsel and whetted tongues. 
 
 Cassel Rapid had written the following letter to Carroll 
 May : 
 
 " CARROLL, Within ten days after the receipt of this, I 
 earnestly desire to see you at Creswood. You have heard 
 of the fate of Rebecca Ruthven. I wish to engage you 
 as associate counsel for the prosecution of one Apollyon. 
 My reasons are numerous and multiform. 
 
 " I know bow the trial will terminate. The criminal 
 will prove an alibi and be acquitted by the jury. But as 
 he is most certainly guilty, I do not want the citizens to 
 acquit him. 
 
 " You are just out of a case almost similar, and are 
 therefore fresh from the arena, and fully primed with the 
 strength and aptitude of the first talent of New York, 
 with and against whom you have recently been engaged. 
 
 " It will afford you an opportunity of seeing your friends, 
 earn you a good fee, for which I am responsible, increase 
 your importance with your employers, and advance your 
 reputation in the professional sphere. 
 
 " Auxiliary to your own peculiar logic and force, I wish 
 to inoculate you with some of my own gathered fire, and 
 have you pour it out, scintillating with volcanic heat, to 
 nerve this people, not to mad fury, but to intelligent, de 
 cisive, and irresistible action, I need hardly add, righteous 
 action. 
 
 " Lastly, I have sent up a wish to the Great God, that 
 He shall strike me with His thunderbolts the moment I 
 cease to stand for the purity of my countrywomen, or to 
 make war to the hilt upon the spoilers of our virgins. 
 Come. " Your friend, 
 
 " CASSEL." 
 
 Carroll May responded in person, and, on the day of 
 the trial, sat within the bar with numerous doctors of the 
 law. While waiting for proceedings to begin, a packed 
 throng devoured with hungry eyes and ears every indica 
 tive sight and sound. 
 
 Garland Hope was at home. He felt utterly incapaci-
 
 Off CORA GLENCOE. 447 
 
 tated to meet the public details of his bitter woe. He 
 had intrusted his interests wholly to Cassel Rapid, con 
 fident that the untiring energy, courage, and discretion of 
 his young friend would accomplish all that was possible. 
 
 Earh r on the morning of the day of trial, Garland was 
 in consultation with Cassel, to whom he poured out his 
 heart freely. 
 
 "If he is convicted," said the young minister, "and, 
 under our statute, imprisoned for life, I shall feel con 
 strained to let it rest at that But if, by virtue of this 
 alibi, he escapes all legal punishment, what shall I do? I 
 alone of all the earth am left to visit justice upon his 
 head." 
 
 "I almost wish that I could take your place," said Cas 
 sel, with a glance which told well enough what he would 
 do. " You know what I have done," continued he, " or 
 if you do not, I will tell it to you as an example." . 
 
 " I know," replied Garland, with a haggard look. Then, 
 with earnest eyes and voice, he asked, "But have you 
 never, in the silent night, or the contemplative day, re 
 pented of what you did, or, to be milder, regretted it ?" 
 
 "Repented!" cried Cassel, with a glance of fire. "Je 
 hovah, in whom I trust, knows that I have not. But I 
 have groaned that all I have done, or could do, was so like 
 a feather's weight in the scales of justice. If Albro Ruth- 
 ven were living, there would be no need of statute, judge, 
 or jury in this case." 
 
 " It is not that I fear the laws of Man, but of God," 
 said the young minister, with a look of agony. 
 
 "Bring me the Laws of God," said Cassel. 
 
 Garland handed him the Bible, and Cassel quickly read 
 from Deuteronomy, chapter xxii., verses 25 and 27 : 
 
 " But if a man find a betrothed damsel in the field, and 
 the man force her, and lie with her ; then the man only 
 that lay with her shall die. 
 
 " For he found her in the field, and the betrothed damsel 
 cried, and there was none to save her." 
 
 " There," said Cassel, " is authority for you, from the 
 very foot of the Throne, a precedent more than twenty 
 centuries old. It is the Law of Moses and his God. And 
 it was given in a barbaric age, when women were the pup-
 
 448 TEKEL, 
 
 pets and toys of men. I know that the Mosaic Dispensa 
 tion has been modified by that of Christ, but it is chiefly 
 by way of simplification, and the God-given laws of Jus 
 tice and Nature are immutable, the same yesterday, to 
 day, and forever. Who shall change them ? If there is 
 any truth in Moses the forerunner of Christ, and if He 
 brew history is not all a fiction, then the spoiler must surely 
 die. A Russian serf slew the prince of his house when 
 his young daughter came from the castle to his hut drip 
 ping with the gore of her own undoing. He fled down 
 into Europe and up into the mountains of Switzerland, 
 where, in his Alpine freedom, he defied the far power of 
 the Russian Empire, and the world applauded. An 
 humble but proud-hearted butcher of Rome, unable to cope 
 with the tyrant emperor, slew his own child, Virginia, in 
 the public market-place, to save her from imperial pollution. 
 The mightiest bards and most trenchant pens have praised 
 him, and his name now, after ages have passed, occupies 
 the niche set apart by sentiment and history to commemo 
 rate Heroic Virtue. Garland, I am a Christian, though 
 not a member of any church. I offer up my little sacri 
 fices, alone, in my closet, and appeal to Heaven for guid 
 ance and strength to do right and be a good man. But if 
 ever I could consent to abandon one of my own in the days 
 of her calamity, I should feel as though I had clasped 
 hands with Satan, and had submitted to his dominion. 
 My conscience would rebuke me, as uttei'ly unworthy ever 
 again to seek blessings from above. I could not kneel to 
 God while neglecting and ignoring so great and clamoring 
 a duty. This spoiler with whom we have to deal will be 
 set free to-day. I have already given you an outline of 
 what will be his defense. How it is that honest men will 
 swear him innocent I do not even imagine ; but that they 
 will do so I have no doubt, and am equally certain that 
 they have not been suborned. He is guilty. You know 
 it, and I know it. Who, then, will assert Justice ? Where 
 is the champion of Rebecca Ruthven ?" 
 
 The young minister, who had listened attentively and 
 excitedly, seemed ready to shout the slogan of Justice 
 and Retribution, and wield the sword of execution. Reach 
 ing out his hand, which Cassel firmly grasped, with quiv 
 ering lips he said, -
 
 OR CORA GLENCOE. 449 
 
 " Whatever the end, is, you, my bold brother, are the 
 chief of all my friends May God bless you, and may 
 He strengthen and direct me." 
 
 "But I am not done with this matter yet," answered 
 Cassel ; and he took from his pocket-book and unfolded 
 a sheet of closely-written manuscript. " I have referred 
 you to the Olden Law, and now I wish to give you the 
 law of the present day upon this prime subject. America 
 is a broad country, and its multiform government might 
 well be called a many-headed monster. Out of these many 
 heads, however, there are a few which spit no venom 
 except for the Evil Doer,. and when, in this connection, 
 I speak of the Evil Doer, I refer to the present interest, 
 the Ravisher of Chastity. Let me give you an introspec 
 tion of diversified moral and legal ethics. There are some 
 American communities of which I am proud, there are 
 others of which I am utterly ashamed." Cassel then read 
 from his manuscript. 
 
 " In Louisiana, the Ravisher suffers death, by the law. 
 
 " In South Carolina, the Ravisher suffers death, by the 
 law. 
 
 " In Delaware, the Ravisher suffers death, by the law. 
 
 " The above three States are the Golden-Heads. 
 
 " In Maine, the Ravisher is imprisoned for life. 
 
 " In Massachusetts, the Ravisher is imprisoned for life. 
 
 "In Connecticutt, the Ravisher is imprisoned for life. 
 
 " In Maryland, the Ravisher is imprisoned for life. 
 
 "In Alabama, the Ravisher is imprisoned for life. 
 
 " In Mississippi, the Ravisher is imprisoned for life. 
 
 " The above six States are the Silver-Heads. 
 
 "In Pennsylvania, the punishment is fifteen years iu 
 prison, and not exceeding one thousand dollars fine. 
 
 " In Rhode Island, it is ten years or upwards in prison. 
 
 " In New York, it is ten years or upwards in prison. 
 
 " In Missouri, it is five years or upwards in prison. 
 
 " In Iowa, it is any term or for life in prison. 
 
 " The above five States are the Copper-Heads. 
 
 " In New Hampshire, it is not less than seven nor more 
 than thirty years in prison. 
 
 " In Virginia, it is not less than ten nor more than 
 twenty years in prison. 
 
 38*
 
 450 TEKEL, 
 
 "In Kentucky, it is not less than ten nor more than 
 twenty years in prison. 
 
 " In Texas, it is not less than five nor more than fifteen 
 years in prison. 
 
 "Under that law I killed Jonas Aiken. 
 
 " In Ohio, it is not less than three nor more than twenty 
 years in prison. 
 
 " In Indiana, it is not less than two nor more than 
 twenty-one years in prison. 
 
 " In Georgia, it is not less than two nor more than twenty 
 years in prison. 
 
 " The above seven States are the Cobra-Heads. But 
 the following two are the heads of the Old Serpent himself. 
 
 " In New Jersey, the punishment is not less than a 
 fine of a thousand dollars, nor greater than fifteen years in 
 prison. 
 
 " In Vermont, the punishment is not less than a fine of 
 a thousand dollars, nor greater than twenty years in prison. 
 
 " Of the remaining States I am not advised. 
 
 "Now," continued Cassel, "what sort of a legal pano 
 rama is this for lawgivers to present ranging from a 
 purse of gold up to the scaffold ? Is chastity only worth 
 one thousand dollars in Vermontor New Jersey, when in 
 Massachusetts it costs imprisonment for life, and in South 
 Carolina it costs death ! What is it that makes this 
 shameful schedule of prices, but the fact that good men 
 suffer themselves to be governed by the senseless regula 
 tions of pusillanimous idiots or scheming knaves ? Let 
 me put this question before you in a shape which cannot 
 fail to convince you that statutory law in this connection 
 means absolutely nothing; and that good men can well 
 afford to trample it under foot on their way to justice. 
 What is the difference between the price of cotton at New 
 Orleans and at Liverpool ? What is the difference between 
 the price of wheat at Chicago and New York ? What is 
 the difference between the price of beef cattle on the Texas 
 prairies and in Philadelphia ? What is the difference be 
 tween the price of- any commodity here, and the same 
 commodity there ? The difference is merely in the cost 
 of carriage, with a fractional margin for legitimate and 
 well-earned profit. This is Commercial law, mind you,
 
 OR CORA GLENCOE. 451 
 
 and is a true, well-digested code, applicable to the whole 
 world. On the other hand, what is the difference between 
 the legal value of a woman's chastity in New Jersey and 
 Delaware? On the New Jersey shore of the Delaware 
 River it will cost, perhaps, a thousand dollars. On the 
 Delaware shore just across the stream it will cost 
 death. In Augusta, Georgia, it will cost, perhaps, two 
 years in the penitentiary. Just across the Savannah 
 River, in Hamburg, South Carolina, it will cost death. 
 In Vermont, it will cost, perhaps, a thousand dollars. 
 Within a distance of ten feet, two feet even, over an imag 
 inary line and into Massachusetts, it will cost imprison 
 ment for life. Who must rectify this thing, and purge the 
 land of these abominations ? Can modest wives and 
 daughters come before the public and challenge the chiv 
 alry of men on such a question ? They have the right to 
 do it ; but it should shame the veriest dastard in the broad 
 earth should they be so compelled. But, Garland, I must 
 leave you now and go to the court-house." 
 
 Cassel went out, mounted the pale stallion, and rapidly 
 traversed the forest, mile after mile, until he reached the 
 county seat. 
 
 As soon as Cassel had gone, the young minister fell 
 upon his knees, and besieged Heaven with prayer. 
 
 " Thou who hast created us, and breathed into us the 
 breath of life, and revealed to us Thy Kingdom, and 
 charged us to build it up pure and undefiled, I come 
 before Thee as a child cometh to its father, and beseech 
 Thee for the moving of Thy Spirit upon my soul, that I 
 may know and feel that which I should do. Tell me, O 
 thou Great Jehovah, shall this demon die? Not that 
 / may reap vengeance, which is Thine, but that he is a 
 Spoiler, and goeth about as one sent from Hell, seeking 
 of innocents that he may destroy them. Is it sinful, just 
 God, for me to feel that every man who meeteth him 
 should slay him ? Teach me, in behalf of Thy Kingdom 
 on earth, and if my soul has grasped the wrong, with 
 hold me by divine and potent influence, and I will bow 
 the head while this mighty evil passeth by. Seven times 
 will I come before Thee, O Jehovah, in my extreme ; and 
 the seventh shall be the Sabbath of the soul, in which I
 
 452 TEKEL, 
 
 implore Thee, Lord of Hosts, to purge me pure, and give 
 me to know if I shall go forth and smite this Philistine." 
 
 Never did man pray, and beseech, with purer motives, 
 or more fervent, passionate sincerity. Rising from his 
 knees, the young minister sat himself down and waited, 
 as for a Voice, or the sensible motion of the Spirit over 
 his soul. Seven times he prostrated himself, in all the 
 agony and ire of earnestness, and waited each time for 
 the interposition or direction of some invisible monitor. 
 But neither Yoice, nor Spirit, nor secret helmsman came to 
 him, to influence or direct him. He was left utterly and 
 singly to his mortal resources. Finally, to himself he 
 said, 
 
 " God, whose ways are past finding out, suffers me to 
 determine this temporal issue by the light and weight of 
 temporal wisdom. All that is in me of intelligence or 
 emotion urges the decree that this demon must die; 
 and by the love which I bear to Rebecca, and by her 
 purity which has been polluted, and by her life which has 
 been ruthlessly blasted, and, by the living God, he shall 
 die I" 
 
 Garland quivered with emotion. No voice or print can 
 tell of the agony of that day a day of prayer, and wrest 
 ling, and storm. But his mind was now made up, and 
 he became as calm as a statue of Retribution. 
 
 The hours passed, and the afternoon was waning. But 
 already a stern and illustrative scene had been put upon 
 the stage of human life, away at the county seat where 
 throngs had gathered to witness the eccentric workings of 
 the law. 
 
 The pale stallion stretched gallantly away through the 
 forest, and the woods and the hills rang with the music of 
 his hoofs. At length the sound of his busy feet was borne 
 upon the wind through the open windows of Garland's 
 study. The young minister recognized the rapid hoof 
 strokes, and waited in a deathlike calm for his friend to 
 appear. Cassel opened the door, and stood upon the 
 threshold, like Hero in the very front of Victory. A 
 stern but celestial beauty beamed from his matchless 
 countenance, and his right hand was pointing aloft as if 
 in triumph. Garland, as he looked upon him, knew that
 
 OR CORA GLEN CO E. 453 
 
 he had hardly dreamed of a more glorious incarnation 
 than the youthful, rosy, and invincible form before him. 
 Mustering his voice he asked, 
 
 "Watchman, what of the night?" 
 
 Cassel, still keeping his position on the threshold, with 
 a smile of stern triumph replied, 
 
 " Moses yet liveth : and the Law of God and Human 
 Nature is paramount to the statutory fulmen of imbe 
 ciles." 
 
 " What is the decree of the court ?" 
 
 " Of the court! It is naught: but there was a Mosaic 
 decree outside of the court, and the spoiler is dead." 
 
 Garland uttered a cry of surprise, of relief, of satisfac 
 tion, of almost everything except of joy, for joy was for 
 ever banished from his breast. The two young men 
 looked into each other's eyes long and earnestly. A fas 
 cination drew them together, and as they locked hands in 
 a manly clasp, they were of kin. The fates of Diana 
 Rapid and Rebecca Ruthven bound them each to each 
 with a peculiar tie. And although Cassel had slain his 
 foe, and Garland had deliberately elected himself to do in 
 like manner, in all the broad land of the free there were 
 not two nobler hearts at beat, or gentler, purer souls. 
 
 " Garland, sit down, and let me tell you of it as briefly 
 as may be. We had two courts to-day one de jure, the 
 other de facto. Carroll May almost set the building afire 
 with an irruption of burning and sententious eloquence 
 which amazed every one, even myself who had primed 
 him for this occasion. But no speech could amount to 
 anything in the face of an invincible alibi ; and Carroll's 
 effort was not so much leveled at the accused as at the 
 Crime, wherever it might be committed, and in the latter 
 respect it carried conviction with it. The trial in the 
 court-house ended as I predicted to you ; but a trial in 
 the grove hard by, where were gathered all of our best 
 citizens, closed with the sentence of death and the execu 
 tion of the wretch. The structure of this widely-discussed 
 alibi was based upon a trick, which was thoroughly ex 
 posed by an honest and truthful old negro man belonging 
 to the Widow Hopkins, but whose testimony in the legal 
 court was inadmissible. He was on the ground to-day,
 
 454 TEKEL, 
 
 having driven the carriage of his mistress, who was in 
 attendance on the trial. It seems that the negro had told 
 his mistress something about Hines and Butler, and that 
 she came to court to-day to see what could be done in 
 behalf of justice. She was soon in consultation with 
 Captain Gale, and very promptly thereaftentthe captain 
 was in consultation with a number of staid citizens. A 
 jury of sixty men, the best men in the county, was 
 organized, among whom was Captain Gale himself, and 
 an immense throng of people followed this jury to the 
 grove just in the rear of the court-house. I was appointed 
 to question the old negro and elicit what he might know. 
 I have his testimony here, written down. I wrote it my 
 self, and then, for conscience sake, cross-examined him 
 before the jury. He had told the simple truth in the 
 beginning, and he did not vary from it in the end. The 
 consciences of the jury were set at rest. I will read you 
 the old slave's testimony in his own words. 
 
 " ' On the day that the sun was eclipsed I was at Mr. 
 Nutt's store, waiting for my mistress, who was visiting 
 some of her friends in the village. I had a watch which 
 master give me just before he died. I wanted to set my 
 watch with the sun, but there are so many hills and trees 
 where I live that I can't see the sun when it rises and sets. 
 I asked Mr. Nutt to look in the almanac and tell me the 
 minute when the eclipse would begin. He told me to put 
 my Watch with his clock, because he said his clock was 
 right. But I was not satisfied, and young Mr. Ashton, 
 who was always kind to me, looked in the almanac and 
 told me to set my watch at twenty-two minutes past three, 
 at the very first beginning of the eclipse. He then lit a 
 candle and smoked a piece of glass and give it to me, be 
 cause I was thinking I could see the eclipse without any 
 blind over my eyes, but he told me I couldn't. I went 
 out, and when the eclipse commenced I set my watch, and 
 then I went to see if Mr. Nutt's clock was right. It was 
 very near right, maybe a minute too slow, and I didn't 
 think it worth while to tell him of such a little difference. 
 There were several gentlemen in the store talking neigh 
 borly, and I went and stood just outside the door and was 
 listening to them. One of them proposed to see if the
 
 OR CORA GLEN CO E. 455 
 
 eclipse was begun, but another said it would be such a 
 small affair that it wasn't worth looking- at. More than 
 twenty minutes after I set my watch, I saw Mr. Hines 
 and Mr. Butler come running over the hill road from the 
 east. When they were in a hundred yards or so of the 
 store, they stopped running and walked the balance of the 
 way. When they come up they blowed like they were 
 tired, and I thought they had been running a race. They 
 began to talk to me, and the gentlemen in the store, hear 
 ing them, all came out and commenced talking and took 
 seats on a bench at one side of the door. Mr. Nutt came 
 out also. Then Mr. Hines and Mr. Butler went into the 
 store to get a drink of water. The water was at the back 
 end, just under the clock. They drank, and then they 
 talked together, and then Mr. Hines turned the clock back. 
 I saw him through the window I began to think that 
 something was strange about Mr. Hines and Mr. Butler, 
 and I couldn't keep from watching them and listening to 
 them. Mr. Butler's breeches were torn, and pinned up 
 with a thorn, and I thought I saw blood on his clothes, 
 but the spots were covered with dust and I was not cer 
 tain. They then came out of the store and asked Mr. Nutt 
 if his clock was right, and he said that it was. Then they 
 told the gentlemen to remember the time when they got to 
 the store, because they said they had made a bet with some 
 of the men that live down in the shore cabins on the Star 
 board Strand, that they would travel from the strand to 
 Mr. Nutt's stor6 in a given time, and that Mr. Nutt was 
 to set down the time of their arrival and be referee. Mr. 
 Nutt looked at his clock and wrote down the time on the 
 outside of his store door, on the upper panel, and all the 
 gentlemen looked at it and promised to remember it. Then 
 I thought Mr. Hines and Mr. Butler were just playing a 
 trick, and I said nothing. Late in the evening just before 
 sundown, and just as my mistress was coming to start 
 home, I saw Mr. Hines go and get some more water, and 
 he then turned the clock forward again, while Mr. Nutt and 
 the other gentlemen were talking to my mistress I didn't 
 think much more about it until I heard that Mr. Hines 
 was in jail, and was going to be cleared by proving that 
 he got to Mr. Nutt's store before the time that the eclipse
 
 456 TEKEL, 
 
 commenced. I knowed he hadn't got there before the 
 eclipse, and I told my mistress about it. She told me to 
 keep my tongue until the day of trial, and she brought me 
 here to-day to see if I could do any good by giving my 
 evidence to the people.' 
 
 " That," said Cassel, " was what exploded the theory 
 which up to this time had withheld the arm of the people. 
 Mr. Nutt and several of the witnesses by whom the alibi 
 was established in the court-house, were brought before 
 the court in the grove, and confirmed the negro's testi 
 mony, except only that none of them had seen Hines tam 
 pering with the clock. The evidence was conclusive to 
 every one, and when the question was put, ' Shall Matthew 
 Hines be hung ?' sixty stern voices responded My,' and 
 the multitude shouted an Amen which made the grove 
 tremble in all its leaves. When the criminal came out of 
 the court-house, his face beaming with wicked triumph, 
 the jury of sixty took him from the sheriff, and told him 
 to prepare for doom. Finding himself suddenly hedged 
 about by a frowning array of honorable citizens, he became 
 trepid, and cried for mercy. But his cry was as unavail 
 ing as the cry of his victim, and no man gave ear to it. 
 He acknowledged his guilt," here Garland shivered, 
 " and refused to say his last possible prayer. He was 
 hung, and his body delivered to the coroner. Now let me 
 tell you who composed the jury of sixty. One-third were 
 members of your chui'ch. About a third were personal 
 friends of hers. The remainder were citizens, strangers 
 to both you and her, whose sense of justice alone actuated 
 them." After a pause, Cassel continued: "Garland, I 
 will not mock you with my sympathy, for I know how 
 like the stars this visitation is beyond the reach of any 
 thing on earth. But I have a word of counsel. Do not 
 you mock her with an offer of your hand. I have seen 
 her. My own history gives me the right to see all such. 
 And I tell } r ou truly that the only wish that lives within 
 her heart is the wish to die. She grieves for you, Garland, 
 and bears her world of woe gently as a broken angel, as is 
 her nature. She hopes to meet you beyond the skies, with 
 all her vows intact, and wed you There. 1 have felt it my 
 duty to be able to tell you all, and to tell you of her. For 
 give me if I have done it rudely."
 
 OR CORA GLEN CO E. 457 
 
 The young minister bowed himself in unutterable an 
 guish, and Cassel softly withdrew and left him in the 
 boundless desert of a hopeless life. Ah, the sweeping- 
 agony that rushed like bitter, bitter seas over his soul, and 
 continually overwhelmed it! There was no goodly spot 
 this side the tomb which would ever again give rest to 
 the weary feet of Garland Hope and Rebecca Ruthven. 
 
 [NOTE. The statutes to which Cassel, in the foregoing 
 chapter, has referred, were cotemporary with the scenes 
 then enacting. What changes may have been wrought by 
 the subsequent American confusion, we are, at this time, 
 unable to inform the reader.] 
 
 CHAPTER XLI. 
 
 CORA returned to Philadelphia. She became the light 
 of the house where she had erst been the shadow. 
 
 To account for this great change she had to tell her 
 mother her sweet little secrets. 
 
 Cassel came to see Cora in her own home, and the 
 Hurons, including Cora, were delighted with him. 
 
 Cassel still kept his head-quarters in New York. One 
 day he appeared at O'Dare's office, and said, 
 
 " O'Dare, the world is soon coming to an end." 
 
 "And I suppose you think that when it does, Cassel 
 Rapid will be at the tip end of it," responded O'Dare, 
 with his usual impudence. 
 
 " Yes, and I hope you'll be at the other end," laughed 
 Cassel. 
 
 " Just so. We can then see-saw the old craft out of 
 existence." 
 
 "But, O'Dare, I'm going to be married!" 
 
 "What of that? Any leatherheacl can be married." 
 
 "But, my complimentary friend, it suggests a subject 
 in connection with which I may have been unparclonably 
 remiss." 
 
 39
 
 458 TEKEL, 
 
 " What kind of a subject? Is Legion the name of it?" 
 
 "Notwithstanding our long and intimate association " 
 
 " I beg your pardon," interrupted O'Dare, " I never be 
 come intimate with anybody but my wife." 
 
 " The very subject in question," persisted Cassel; "for 
 I cannot for the life of me say whether you have a wife 
 or not. I have all along presumed that you have not 
 nor ever had." 
 
 "Nobody ever appears to think that it would be 
 'regular order' for me to have a wife." 
 
 " Precisely," answered Cassel. " You are so con 
 foundedly self-sufficient, that an appendage strikes the 
 inquiring mind as altogether superfluous." 
 
 " The devil it does ! Why can't Hector O'Dare enjoy 
 the tender and essential rib as well as you, you green 
 goose?" 
 
 " Because it don't appear in character that you should 
 ever have been a pensive and elegiac swain, blacking your 
 mustache, and curling your hair, and writing sonnets to 
 your 'mistress's eyebrow,'" laughed Cassel. 
 
 " Never answered to that description in my life. But 
 in a world of pangs and penalties, where good to bad is 
 like pigmy to giant, do you suppose that Hector O'Dare 
 would ignore the main chance ! That Hector O'Dare, 
 I like that name," drolly observed the detective, "that 
 Hector O'Dare, who never misses his man, would stand 
 by like a split stick and miss his woman? No, sir! He 
 would never make a miss, but a mistress, of her. There's 
 a pun for you, if you have the sense to comprehend it." 
 
 " A very silly one, requiring about as much brain to 
 comprehend as to perpetrate." 
 
 " You know what I told you once," said O'Dare, " about 
 my choosing a fool for an audience ?" 
 
 " For that matter you need never lack an audience; just 
 talk to yourself," laughed Cassel. 
 
 " What time do you dine ?" asked O'Dare, abruptly. 
 
 "I keep banker's hours." 
 
 " It wants half an hour, then, to your dinner-time. I 
 take my meals whenever I can get the chance. But come 
 dine with me to-day, and I will show you what, when you 
 are married and housekeeping, you will never be spry
 
 OR CORA OLENCOE. 459 
 
 enough to show me that is, a well-served dinner after ten 
 minutes' notice." 
 
 O'Dare took Cassel to his residence, which, in appear 
 ance, was perfectly respectable in exterior, and even lux 
 urious within, but in no sense ostentatious from either 
 point of view. Entering the parlor, the detective sprung 
 a bell. A tidy little girl appeared in a few moments, and 
 stood for orders. 
 
 "Ask Mrs. O'Dare and the children to favor us with 
 their company," and the little handmaid disappeared. 
 
 "Aha!" exclaimed Cassel, "you've been married some 
 tfme, I begin to see." 
 
 Presently, Mrs. O'Dare, with a little boy and girl, re 
 spectively six and four years of age, entered the parlor. 
 The gentlemen arose, and introductions followed. 
 
 " I am glad to see my father's guest," said young Hec 
 tor. 
 
 "And I am glad to see your father's boy," replied Cas 
 sel, patting the sprightly boy on the cheek. 
 
 " Father told you my Sunday name," said little Kath 
 leen. 
 
 " And what is your every-day name ?" asked Cassel. 
 
 " Froggie." 
 
 " That's because she can go like a frog," said young 
 Hector. 
 
 " Jump like a frog, or sing like a frog ?" asked Cassel. 
 
 " She sings, and /jump," answered the little brother. 
 
 Mrs. O'Dare was a fresh-looking and fine-looking bru 
 nette, with flashing eyes, active countenance, much grace 
 of person, good manners, and was, on rare occasions, 
 when she got her dander up, master of the house. 
 
 Conversing readily, and with a genial face, she was 
 pleasantly at ease with Cassel, whom she well knew by 
 repute through her husband. Turning to O'Dare she 
 inquired, 
 
 " Are you very busy to-day ?" 
 
 " No," incautiously replied the husband. 
 
 "We'll dine, then, at four." 
 
 " Half-past three," suggested O'Dare. 
 
 " That will be in ten minutes," protested the wife. 
 
 " Just so," admitted O'Dare, trying to give her a wink.
 
 460 TEKEL, 
 
 But she wouldn't take any wink. Turning with a half- 
 saucy smile to Cassel, she said, 
 
 "Mr. Rapid, did you ever see such a man? He will 
 even come home from a week's absence, and at an odd 
 hour, and he must have his meal in five, ten, or fifteen 
 minutes. I can generally give him all he deserves within 
 the required time. But when he brings distinguished 
 guests, and expects me to act Lamp to Aladdin, I some 
 times revolt," and she cast a mischievous, daring glance 
 at her lord. "However, he shall have his meal in ten 
 minutes, if business is pressing, but I invite you to stay 
 and take dinner with me." Saying which she arose, went 
 out, and soon returned with, " Mr. O'Dare, your meal is 
 ready, and I am ready to serve it." With the least pos 
 sible dash she turned away, casting a black-eyed, half- 
 defiant glance over her well-set shoulder. 
 
 O'Dare was whipped, and he was aware that Cassel, 
 with keen enjoyment, appreciated it and would run him 
 heavily. Cunningly he observed, 
 
 " She knows exactly how to make me love her." 
 
 Cassel could stand it no longer, and his hearty, silver 
 laugh rang through the house. 
 
 "Did you see those black eyes?" asked O'Dare, act 
 ually blushing. 
 
 " Yes, and I see whom they vanquish," laughed Cassel. 
 
 " My odd hours are too bad," said O'Dare. " She 
 stands it just a little longer than she ought to, and then 
 she raises the standard of revolt. I glory in her spunk." 
 
 Mrs. O'Dare came to the door and inquired of her hus 
 band, 
 
 " Will you have your hasty pudding, or dine with Mr. 
 Rapid and myself?" 
 
 "I believe I'll not hurry the cook," replied O'Dare, and 
 the trio laughed merrily. 
 
 Mrs. O'Dare, pleased and relenting, came in and sat 
 down. A very agreeable half hour preceded a very well- 
 served dinner, and O'Dare behaved himself for several 
 consecutive weeks afterward. 
 
 Cassel Rapid, whose faultless symmetry was the delight 
 of his tailor, and Cora, whose bridal loveliness we fain
 
 OR CORA GLENCOE. 461 
 
 would, but cannot, describe, stood up before the venera 
 ble Mr. Hope, and a host of gathered friends, in the bouse 
 tf the Philadelphia Hurons, and were married. 
 
 Prominent among the guests were the Hope family, 
 except Garland Captain Gale and his family, who came 
 up in the Whitecap Linda Boyd and Miss Lightner 
 Hector O'Dare and his black-eyed wife and Harry Gray. 
 The latter, when the ceremony and numberless congratu 
 lations were endured, came forward and said, 
 
 " Cassel, you beat me, but I always thought you would, 
 for you had the near way on me. I've been preparing for 
 this for some time, and although it is bitter-sweet, I bear 
 no malice, and truly hope that you will be as happy as I 
 ivould have been." 
 
 " Mr. Gray," said Cora, who always liked Harry, and 
 felt willing to indemnify him, "I have a sister far lovelier 
 than myself. See her there." 
 
 Harry looked about, and saw Gussie Huron, fresh, in 
 genuous, and sweet as Hebe. He got himself desperately 
 in love with her, and eventually succeeded in making her 
 his bride. 
 
 * 
 
 Johnny Gale stood six-feet-one in his wedding-boots, 
 and was as fine a pyramid of flesh, good humor, and good 
 sense as ever took the vows. His rich, abundant black 
 hair, fine forehead, rouge cheeks, scarlet lips, shaded by a 
 boyish mustache, together with his splendid physique, 
 gave him an appearance brave, commanding, and superb. 
 
 "Did you ever see a person improve as Johnny has?" 
 whispered Cora to Cassel. " He looks like a young noble 
 man." 
 
 ."He is a young nobleman," answered Cassel. "Look 
 at Linda, fresh and delicious as the blush side of a ripe 
 peach. She becomes ' Mrs. Gale' with ideas very dif 
 ferent from those with which she became 'Mrs. Boyd.' 
 She is in love now for the first time. She calls Johnny 
 her handsome giant." 
 
 " She is greatly indebted to you, 'her brother Cassel,' " 
 said Cora. 
 
 " Not more than I am indebted to her for her innocent, 
 beautiful, and unfailing affection. There was a time when
 
 462 TEKEL, 
 
 none but Linda could refresh the waste places in my breast. 
 I have always been rejoiced that she returned Johnny's 
 love, for they will suit each other as the clapper suits the 
 bell." 
 
 Johnny, being married, abandoned his engineering 
 studies. He sold out the oil farm in Pennsylvania, gath 
 ered together the financial resources of his wife, invested 
 them in real estate, and contented himself with collecting 
 rents, and, eventually, making fireside trips to Banbury 
 Cross. 
 
 Carroll May devoted himself to business, with one eye, 
 however, fixed upon a certain stylish girl, the daughter of 
 Mr. Gore, of the firm of Hallum & Gore, his employers. 
 Carroll promised to succeed with some brilliancy in his 
 profession. 
 
 Cassel Rapid had recognized in Miss Lightner the most 
 of those excellent qualities which belong to our superior 
 women. Although she maintained herself bravely, she 
 was entirely self-dependent, in sickness or in health, in 
 success or failure. Cassel, whose heart was as tender as 
 it was imperial and dauntless, felt a sympathy for her 
 which would not let him rest. She was too modest, or 
 too something-or-other, ever to "catch" beaus. Cassel 
 determined to catch one for her. " Why shan't she have 
 a honey-moon as well as the rest of us ?" asked Cassel of 
 himself. He and Cora continued to conspire against Miss 
 Lightner's maidenhood, until they succeeded in making her 
 the mistress of a comfortable establishment, and of a 
 worthy husband whom she found no difficulty in loving 
 and esteeming. 
 
 Rebecca Ruthven is a living statue, dead to the world. 
 Her mother never recovered from the pulmonary illness 
 superinduced by the destruction of her family. Rebecca, 
 an orphan, lives in the family of old Mr. Hope. Garland, 
 who could not bear to be near her and not with her, left 
 Creswood, and accepted some distant Christian mission. 
 It was his wish that Rebecca should live with his father's 
 family, and be treated in all respects as a daughter. 
 
 Time passed, and brought its inevitable changes. The 
 sea had long been encroaching upon Gale Island, and its 
 banks had been gradually tumbling in, until the anchor-
 
 OR CORA GLEN CO E. 463 
 
 age was destroyed. A furious storm, which maddened 
 the ocean and shook the Atlantic shores, and wrapped the 
 island in a shroud of foam, while it rocked and trembled 
 with the shock of thundering, frantic waves, beat down 
 the loamy bulwarks, cleft the soil with deep gulches, and 
 rendered the island uninhabitable. Captain Gale, who 
 had made his fortune, abandoned his island home, and 
 settled in the suburbs of Philadelphia, where Caddy met 
 with her fate, and was married. 
 
 O'Dare is still upon the qui vive, and malefactors had 
 better continue to look lively. 
 
 Uncle Jessie, who lives with Johnny and Linda and 
 the children, at the " Gale" mansion, was at length forced 
 to fall back, for self-consistency and excuse, upon the old 
 couplet, that, 
 
 "A little nonsense now and then 
 la relished by the wisest men." 
 
 Postscript, in lieu of Preface. Reader, this is no tale 
 of Fiction, or of Faction. Neither is it factitious, but a 
 feeble presentation of Fact. We have not drawn upon 
 Imagination for either incident or example, for every j 
 morning paper, almost, has vouchsafed us both. Our '* 
 trouble has alone been in the finding of words, active and 
 potent enough to tell the simple Truth. Neither have we 
 any such wrongs to avenge or lament, near or remote. 
 But if, by this indirect instrumentality, we shall be able 
 to save a single pure woman or innocent virgin from the 
 Spoiler, we shall ever feel well repaid for this our labor 
 in that behalf. If we can but direct the attention of a 
 single intelligent and honorable legislator to the disgrace 
 ful, senseless incongruity of American statutes which 
 bear directly upon the core of every honest, virtuous 
 heart, we shall indeed feel greatly gratified and encour 
 aged. The price of Gold is the same throughout the 
 Union. Is Chastity the purity of our women less 
 precious, or less to be considered, than Gold ! Who will 
 dare assert it ? 
 
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