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II
3AMUEL WRIGHT, Editor and Proprietor.
VOLUME XXIX, NUMBER 43.]
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their business.
Rutty.
Gcetho's Angler
The water (named, the water swelled,
The Angler sal at rest,
And calmly viewed the line be held;
Cold a• the wave hpt brearr.
And us lie •its and as he porea,
• The wave divides on high,
And from its azure bosom soars
A nymph with dewy eye.
She sant() him, she spoke to hint,
" Why lurest thou my brood,
With hums wart and human guile,
"From out their native flood
"Did•t thou but know what joys attend
"My little fish below,
"E'en as thou art thou wouldst descend,
'•And heal thy bo=om's woe.
"Doth not the sun the wave embrace,
"The moon, too, kiss she=en
"Doll, not her billow-brenthtnr, face,
"Return more, sweet to Mee ,
" Doth woo the not the deep, deep sly,
IThe mild 'Ruined blue,
"both tempt the not thy mirrored eye,
"Here in th' eternal dew
'The water loomed, the water swelled,
Beneath his nuked feet;
Soft longings ner his bosom tb tilled,
As if Ilk love did greet—
She spoke to him, she , ung, to him,
Then was he lost I weep,
She drew hint half, half •oak he in,
And never more was Seen.
gEtEtißlt,s.
From Frazer's Magazine
Lost at Cards.
It is more than twenty years since I was
at school with Laurence Mounljoy, but I re
member him well. The life of most men.
we will hope is brighter at it close than at
itsbeginning,—emerging from theg,rossness
and cruelty of the school-boy, and the pas
sions of youth into the light of reason and
knowledge ; but that of him I speak of was
far otherwise. He was indeed, a glorious
boy, with spirits inexhaustible as long as
his pocket money lasted, and both over ready
to be employed in the entertainment of his
friends.
Laurence Mountjoy was good at most
things is the sporting way, but he was best
.ofall at raffles. lie would haverattled his teeth
if ho could have got anybody to put in fur
them, and actually did take a ticket cheer
fully on one occasion for the chance of the
reversion of another boy's boots. Whenev
er a pack of cards was confiscated, whenever
dice—of home manufacture, and cut out (fur
silence sake) of india•ruber—were forfeited,
Laurence was sure to bo their owner. Ile
bet upon the number of stripes that would
be given him, and on what crop of blisters
the cane would raise upon his hands, and he
invented a hundred games with slate and
pencil, paper and pen, for school-times. Ile
came to school one winter evening, at the
commencement of the half-year in a Han
som cab from London with another boy.—
They had bought a great Roman Catholic
taper, and held it by turns between their
knees (although it struck them some how as
an impiety,) and played cribbage all the
way. A terrible voice cried down unto them
on a sudden, " two for his heels," for Laur
ence's adversary had omitted to mark the
knave, and the cabman had become so inter
ested as a spectator through the little hole at
the top, that he couldn't help rectifying the
error. It terrified them imtnensly at the
time, but Mountjoy never took it (as the
other did) as a warning.
But "we all have our weak points" we
said, and his is the rleasuro he takes in
_losing his own money, or winning other
peoples' to spend it on them again ; and for
my part, when I loft school, there was none
whose companionship I was so loath to part
with as that of Mountjoy.
I was his senior by a year or two, end
when he came up to Cambridge, I was with
::n c law terms of my degree, so we wore not
'much together. Ile was grown very grace
ful
angi handsome; and the qualities which
'had been ignored at school, Were at the uni
versity gladly recognized. It would have
been impossible, among the freshmen, to
:have picked out one more popular, and
deservedly so, than he. lie did not read
very much, but ho talked of reading as
though he would be Senior Wrangler. lle
was a fluent speaker at the " Union," a tol
erable musician, a good pool player, a pass
able poet, and in short promised to be one
of those Admirable (university) Crichtons
who from time to time glance meteor-like
athwart the academic course, and then dis
appear wholly, and are lost in the darkness
of the outward world.
I left soon after for the Inner Temple,
and while I ate my terms, made flying visits
00 W and then to Cambridge. During one
of these, when I had been two years n grad
uate, I gare a supper-party at the "Bull."
Mountjoy was late; and so we sat down
without him, and we talked over the absent
man. 41.3 the mode ie. I thought there could
be no harm in a playful kick at such a
fa7orite, and offered to wager that he was
detained by cards.
"I would not like to be his adversary,"
said one.
DM
"Nor I his partner," said another, " lest
uld Ilornie fly away with the two of us with
pardonable freedom, for he has the devil's
own luck."
" Yes and the devil's own play, too," said
a third, sulkily.
"It does'nt keep him from the duns at
all events," added the man nest to me: "I
darn say there is some pertinacious lunatic
waiting for him upon his staircase now, who
keeps him late."
Much distressed by this news, I requested
in a low voice to be informed further. I
learnt that Mountjoy was not so popular as
he used to be ; associated with a bad set, to
whom it was supposed he bad lost consid
erable sums ; was certainly in temporary
difficulties, and very much changed in man
ners and appearances. His face was pale
and haggard in the extreme, his eyes—now
brighter than ever—were set in deep black
circles, and his clothes hung loose upon his
limbs: he welcomed me however, with all
his old cordiality, and threw about the ar
rows of his wit as usual ; they were more
barbed than'they were wont to be, the sheet
lightning had become forked.
*0 39
He said many things of a savage sort, and
drank off_glass after glass of wine very rap
idly ; some of the rest were not more back
ward either in retort or drinking, and oc
casion soon arose when in my capacity as
host I was obliged to interfere.
" He said I was a greater fool than I look
ed."—" Who said so?"—" So you are?"—
" Shame, shamel"—" Here's a lark I" were
expressions that burst forth from every side,
until "Chair, chair,"—"Silence for the Lord
Chief Justice," and "Here's an opinion for
nothing," quelled them upon the hommo
pathic system of counter-irritation, and ob
tained for me a hearing.
nm sure Mountjoy will appologizo for
that remark of his," I said : "we are all
college friends, and most of us old school
fellows, and we are not come here to pick
quarrell, but chicken bones."
"Hecalled me—he called me," hiccuped
one, "a gr-greater fool than I looked."
"My deny fellow," said Mountjoy,- hold
ing his hand across the table in a most af
fectionate manner, "I retract the observa
tion altogether ; you arc not such a fool ns
you look, as everybody knows."
The offended party endeavored to explain
that he was perfectly satisfied ; we broke up
amidst shouts of laughter, and in high good
humor.
" I have left a few men nt my rooms to
night," said Mountjoy, " and if you will
join them in a game at vingtel-un, come at
once before gates shut.
I was anxious to see the kind of company
he kept, and adjourned accordingly to his
college rooms. Six or seven were sitting
round his table playing as he entered, whom
he had left (with some unselfishness, I am
sure,) to sup with me; they had been eating
nothing although food was piled in plenty
on a piano in the corner, but a number of
empty bottles proved their thirst. They
did not interrupt their game for a moment,
but one of them moved his chair to give us
room.
" Eleven; now then for a ten l" roared
the dealer. " Fifteen—curse my luck—and
mine overdrawn by Jove." A peal of joy
rose from the rest. " You onl . pay me a
skive, though," said one mournfully;
firer fur me," said another, and " you pay
me twelve pounds, six on each card,"added a
third. They were playing then a good deal
too high for me, and as I thought forMouut
joy also.
I declined, therefore, joining the party,
but stood with my back to the fire, watch
ing the game.
Vingt-et-un, like other matters, which de
pend mostly on luck, is a considerable trial
fur the temper, and the present company did
not seem to have much patience to spare ;
they were more or less in wino, too, and ex
hibited a great contrast in their manner to
the quiet and friendly fashion in which cards
are (and should be) usually played at col
lege. The chief cause of this was, that they
were playing for higher stakes than they
could well afford,—that is to say gambling.
The eternal "make your game," and 'I
double you,'were the only words that Mount
joy spoke, as dealer, but he spoke them like
a curse. Despite the heat of the room and
his intense excitement, his face shone, be
neath the bright light of two or three lamps
as white ns alabaster, and his thin *hand
shook over the pack like a lily on the dan
cing Cam ; ho kept the deal for a short time
only, and lost heavily even then, and when
he was player he clutched at the cards, be
fore they reached him, like a drowning
man.
I shaded my face with my hand, . for I
was deeply pained, and watched him intent
ly.; ho had usually "stood " upon his two
first cards withont drawing another, brit he
seemed suddenly to change his plan, 'drew'
again and again.
" Nino—sixteen ; surely you must bo over,"
said the dealer."
"No," said Mountjoy, "thank you, I
stand."
Now, on that occasion I happened to see
that Laurence was over (being twentyln-00
and that he received the stakes instead of
"'NO ENTERTAINMENT IS SO CHEAP AS READING, NOR AN PLEASURE SO LASTING:'
COLUMBIA, PENNSYLVANIA, SATURDAY MORNING, MAY (I 1 , 1859.
paying them. My blood rushed to my head,
and I heard my heart beat for a moment at
the sight, but I drove the idea of its being
intended from me, and watched in hopes
that it would not be so again_ No, thank
Heaven, he is " over" this time, and throws
up his cards with a sigh ; and now he wins,
and now—as I live, ho is "content" at
twenty-five, and again receives, instead of
pays ; not twice nor thrice this happens, but
twenty times, he is cheating whenever there
is an occasion to cheat.
The night—or rather the day—wears en,
and still the players sit unweariedly ; their
lips are parched, their eyes are heated, and
they can scarce take up their cards; but not
till dawn breaks in through the thin cur
tains and athwart the dying lamps, does any
one leave his seat ; then two of them depart
for morning chapel—for this is an opportu•
nity to attend morning prayers that rarely
occurs to them,—and the rest drop off their
percheJ presently, like moulting birds, and
I am left alone with him who was,my friend,
who cheats his friends and. his compan
ions.
" What cursed luck I've had," said be,
"twenty pounds ready, and fifty pounds
worth of autographs gone besides ; but, Lord
love you, I've had worse luck than that,
and shall have again ; and ill don't mind
it, Irby should you old chap? Don't look so
confoundedly virtuous, he added, angrily,( for
I was looking .411 I felt) you've done the
same before now."
"Never the same Mr. Mountjoy," I re
plied.
"What do you mean ;" said he, hastily,
but without remarking on the way I had
addressed him ; "you've never gambled—
do you mean to say that? I like your impu
dence."
"Gambled perhaps," I answered, "but
never cheated sir."
At that word his wan cheeks burnt like
two living coals, and he dropped into an
arm chair besides me without a word, while
a sort of convulsion teemed to pr.ss over his
whole face, and his breath came and went
with difficulty.
"Mountjoy," I said with pity, and some
terror, "be a man ; you were drunk and
did not know what you did ; you lost com
mand over yourself, or you never could have
done such a fuel thing."
I saw with joy tears gathering in his eyes,
and with my face averted from him, ap
tasaled to his old nature as well ns I was
able. I told him what a hold lie had once
on all our hearts, and how men were turn
ing their backs upon him now; I bade him
judge how his whole self was changed by
his own altered features, and the strange
companions he had chosen. ll° only an
swered by a silent passion ortears. I was
obliged to put t•o bins some bitter questions
fur the sake of that I had in view.
"Does any one know of this betides your
self, Laurence?"
lle shook his head.
"Is this the first time in all your life that
you ever did this thing?"
"The first—the first," he moaned.
I thought, and I think still, that this was
true; that he had cheated through a sort of
despair of fortune, and in a frenzy rathm
than in a preconceived and customary plan.
"Have you a Bible in the room,.Lau
ranee? Go , ,d, I have it hero. Now swear
to me that you will not touch dice or card
again. while you are at the university; swear
I say," for I saw he was about to refuse;
"or for your own sake as well as that of
others, I will proclaim what I have seen
this night to the whole oollege."
Laurence Mountioy took the oath and
kept it; for he left Cambridge that very day
and never returned to it, and went I krlow
not whither, but on a way far apart from
mine for years, and only across, the mem
ory of my brightest college days, and es
pecially over their scenes of pleasure and
excitement, this shadow fell dark and cold.
When I had been at the Bar but ten or
eleven years, my opinion (however, strange
itmayseem) seas demanded upon a question
of marriage settlements. The circumstance
however, I do not deny, was due to my ac
quaintance with one of the contracting par
ties, and not to my professional reputation
for I had known Lucy Weynall from child
hood, and her father had been my father's
friend. Lucy was not quite pretty, but had
a thousand charming graces of vivacity and
expression worth all the prettiness in the
world: she sang. she drew, she talked three
three or four tongues—and not to be omit
ted by a lawyer in estimating oven a young
lady's assets--she had eight thousand
pounds in the funds. I had thought more
than once, but in an ex park sort of a way,
of an alliance with this desirable young
person myself; but she had caught me when
I was first 'called,'practising beforea looking
glee in my wig and gown, at her father's
country-house, 'and she never forgot it;
whenever afterwards I strove to be tender,
she would :give her imitation of my looks
and gestures on that particular occasion,
and I, knowing how little laughter is akin
to love, soon stifled my flame with Coke and
Littleton. Still, however, I was very anx
ious for her happiness, and it was with the
utmost astonishment that I discovered the
fortunate suitor to be one Captain Laurence
Mountjoy.
Mr. Weynall, it sormed, wns not altogeth
er satisfied with him or his prospects, but
Lucy had set her heart on him, and it was
at her own disposal. To my half-joking
questions about her lover, she gave me such
replies as convinced me that in manners
and attractions at least, he was the same
who had charmed us all in youth; "but he
looks so pale and thin at times," she said,
"that I can scarcely Lear to look at him."
An early day was appointed fur me to meet
the Captain at Thorney grove—her father's
house—and I was impatient until it came.
If he blushes or looks confused at seeing me
thought I, it will be a god sign; that sad
business at college will still hauntshis mem
ory,and prove him not to be inured to shame;
it was his first and last and worst error per
haps..
I arrived at Mr. Wcynall's, and found
within doors only that gentleman himself.
who bade me seek the young couple in the
garden. They were walking together un
der a trellis work of roses, and never heeded
my footsteps. Ile had his arm around her
waist, and was combatting, it seemed, souse
opinion or scruple of hers, fur his musical
tones, although I could not 'tear their sense,
caught up and overpowered hers. On a
sudden Lucy gave a little scream,and point
ed to me, and I then knew that it was I
who had been the subject of their debate.
As they came forward, she endeavored to
disentangle herself from hint, but he held
her firmly as before. Mountjoy was altered
much, both by year and climate; his com
plexion was almost olive, and a heavy mous
tache covered his lip.
"What a time it is since are met," said
he: "why, as hen was it that I saw you
last?"
"At Cambridge," I rerlied: "you must
remember that, Mountjoy," (for I was not
plea , ,ed with his coohiese and elfrontry.)
"]ca," be said, "at Cambridge; to be
sure it was; and we had some ridiculous
quarrel about vingl-ctun."
"Well, don't do it again, for that is just
my age, and I don't want to be quarreled
about," said Lucy: and the dinner-bell—
tocsin of peace—began to sound.
"Across the walnuts and the wino" I
heard as much of the soldier's history as
he chute to tell. lie spoke of his Indian
wars, and show ed us quite a ladder of med
al.. Ile poured out a river of anecdote, all
of which he finished off by come moral or
prudent reflection; lamented this man's
passion fur play, another's thirst for excite-
WClit, and a third's absurd extravagance;
in fact. acted the pattern of a sen-in-law-to
be to perfection. When the old gentleman
had retired to rest, he wns more natural in
his communications—he spoke of Indian
intrigue+, and marriages "ou spec;" of the
Colonel's fondness fur "brag;" of the ease
with which Cheroot Races may be won by
the crafty; of the "smashes" there had
Leen in the regiment, and in fact exhibited
all the repeduire of a fast military man:—
a Litter wit overflowed his talk, and an ut
ter disbelief in goodness and good men per
vaded all;—"as one man of the world talking
to another," such and such, he said, wet e
the real truths—viz: just the sort of horri
ble hopeless gospel, always heralded by that
particular expression.
And yet, when he drew himself up to
his full height, and wished rue "Good-night,"
with his old bewitching smile, I pressed
warmly his outstretched hand, and, long
after the echoes of his springy footsteps had
died away upon the oaken stairs, I sat over
the fading embers, with my mind fuller of
sorrow than roger because of him. I had
the darkest forehuding about this marriage.
I had little dualit but that he was a fallen
star, who would NI lower yet, and draw
down with him another, pure and bright,
and dear to me, from its firmament; and yet
I liked him still; what wonder, then, at her
affection who knew his strength and not his
weakness? flow often do we see men like
these I thought,—men without a prayer,
who have twenty pious lips to pray for them;
without love—to call such—and yet so
wildly adored; with one look of love they
wipe away a hundred wrongs, and when
they die their image is enshrined in many
a heart, and not the less securely even al
ibi:nigh those may have been broken. I had
no right, without more evidence, to compare
Laurence Mountjoy with such men as these
but I did do so. It is not hard to find out
in London what a man's life has been in
India, but I did not consider myself justi
fied in prying into the Captain's past ca
reer. Their marriage took place at no dis
tant period, and they went fur a tour upon
the Continent.
The childless old man, who had no rela
tives, anti but a few friends, came then to
visit me more often. Month after month
passed by without any sign of their return,
and Lney's letters grew more vague, and
Laurence's quite silent as to their move
ments. He wrote that he found living
abroad more expensive than he thought,
and generally requested to have more mo
ney. Once even ho wrote to me a private
epistle, "as ono man of the world writing
to another," about the possibility of get
ting at the eight thousand pounds, which,
according to my own advice, had been,
howover, put quite safely cut of the gallant
Captain's reach. Then the correspondence
of both of them altogether ceased. Poet
after post had Mr. Weynall begged of them
to let him' hear. I myself had nut been
backward in appealing to Mrs. Mountjoy's
filial feelings, or in pointing out:to hcr hus
band the hazard of offending his father•in
law. I then became convinced that he was
preventing her IT force; and I proceeded
to make inquiries about him. At the Horse
Guards I found out that Captain Laurence
Mountjoy had sold out of the army some
mouths ago; learnt from the Military Secre
tary, with whom I had an acquaintance,
that his selling out had boon compulsory;
some gambling transactions had come to
light in the regiment since his return to
England, "and," said the official, "they
were some of the worst cases that ever came
under my notice."
My suspicions being thus realized, I of-
fered to the almost frantic father to go in
search of the lost sheep, or rather of the
wolf and lamb so unfortunately paired. I
would not take him with me, as he wag
the last man in the world fitted to rope
with Mountjey: but he gave me the fullest
powers to act fur hint, and, if it could be
any way possible, to bring about a separa
tion.
I went upon my sad errand, among the
throng of pleasure seekers, on the noble riv
er which is the most famous in song; all
things around were beautiful, end every
heart seemed to be enjoying, them save
mine. A knot of young collegians con
trasted, in their super-abundance of high
spirits, most painfully with my fl)reboding
thoughts. NVihnot, the youngest of them,
and their favorite, reminded me of what
Monntjoy once had been, and my heart grew
heavy for the boy, in fear.
Wie , haden; where I na•nrally intended
to first seek the :\lountjoys, was also the
first halt of these young men. The first af
ternoon after our arrival, spent by me in
fruitless inquiries, was passed by them at
the Kursaal, and Wilmot gave me an ac
count that very night of his luck in in
ningaillo fit c-franc pieces at the gaming-ta
ble. I could not help giving him in return
the outlines of this very story, but of course
without mentioning names, but he interrup
ted me with, "Why they are here, sir; they
were both playing at the Kursaal; I am
sure of it; the man quite white on a dark
ground, with thick monstachios and sunken
eyes; the woman, not good-looking at all,
but .
"Gond Heavens! and did you ask their
name?"
"Oh ycs, my brother told me: everybody
knows them here,—Molyneu; Captain end
Mrs. Molvneux."
"Thank God," I said; and yet the next
moment I doubted whether it would not be
better that they should be these than not
find them et all, or to find them doing worse.
Not certain in my mind, however, I attend
ed the Kursnal as soon as the tables were
open on the following day. I sat myself
down and held my head low, as though in
tent upon the game, and watched the com
pany as they dropped in. The table was
soon full, except a couple of seats directly
opposite to me, which appeared to be re
served by tacit consent for some habitues.
Presently the man I was in search of enter
ed, with a lady, thickly veiled, upon his
arm, and they took their seats. Yes, it
was she, but deadly pale and still, looking
less like the light-hearted and self-willed
Lucy I had known, than some wax automa
ton. She had been fond of jewelry, and
wore it rather in profusion; but there was
not an ornament about her now, unless
her marriage ring could be so called, which
I saw as she stretched out her hand (with
the gambling rake in it, alas, alas!) to re-'
ceive or pay. She seemed to be utterly
careless about that matter herself, but when
more fortunate than usual, she looked up
from the board into her husband's face, as
if to glean from it a joy. They played, it
was evident, in accordance with some sys
tematic plan, but they did not prosper. I
saw Monntjoy's face darkening; and his I
teeth setting tighter with every revolution
of the ball; at last, with a terrible oath,
he rose up, and walked rapidly from the
room, motioning to his wife to follow him.
The Captain's scheme doesn't answer,"
said one; "he said he blould break the bank
as surely as Baron Grimloff did last sum-
ME
"Ahl" said the croupier, imperturbably,
"the Baron did not go away with the money,
though; and for the Captain's new system,
it'sns old as the hills."
It was strange to hear the banter thus
proclaiming his own invincibility, but he
knew well how fast the devotees of the
table were bound to him, and, indeed, was
answered by a general laugh. I had al
ready risen, and was following the couple
into the garden. I overtook the Mountjoys
in one of the shaded walks, and itreminded
me of the "time when I first met thorn to
gether in the rosary at Thorney Grove; the
way in which he laid his hand upon her
arm at my approach recalled the manner in
which he refused to be shaken off on that
occasion. I saw in that grip that he was
recalling to her some previous directions,
and that ho had calculated upon a meeting
of this sort.
"Captain Mountjoy or Molvneux," I
said, "I have matters of a very serious na
ture to .3penk to you upon," (at that begin
ning his pain cheek grew whiter, and I felt
sure, nt one , ., that he had done something
to be afraid of, besidev the things I knew.)
"Mrs. Mountjuy," I continued, "to you,
too, I have sorne weighty messages from a
father whom you possibly may cover see
again."
"Address yourself to me, if you please,
sir," burst forth her husband, violently: but
she broko in with, "Tell me, for God's sake,
is be here, Fir? Oh! Laurance, Laurance,
let me see our father."
•'IIe iv not ill, ma lam." said I, "unloss
to be broken-hearted can be called el, but
if I return to him without you, I do not
"o tlyt that be will din; and at your door,
$1,50 PER YEAR IN ADVANCE; $2,00 IF NOT IN ADVANCE
Captain INlountjoy, who hare not suffered
his daughter to write to him, his death will
lie. Shall I return to him to say his sou
in•law dare not pass under his own name,
and that his daughter is compelled to be
come a professional gambler in the public
rooms of Wiesbaden?"
"You will return to him," replied Mount
jay, savagely, "with a bullet through your
heart, if—;" but here poor Lucy, in an
agony of tear., and half swooming, entreat
ed to be led home; and we bore her between
us to their apartments on the third floor of
a nei::l;boring street. They were almost
without furniture, and nut altogether clean,
hut with a glass of fluweri here and there,
and a few other traces of the "grace past
neatmes•." which rarely forakes a woman.
He carried hi, wife, still subbing piteously,
into an inner room, and returning in.3tantly,
motioned mo to a chair, and demanded my
busines..
"Mny I nsic, sir, on the part of Mr. Wey
nail, why you have not corresponded with
him thesc niontly,?"
"You know ai well and better, sir, than
T, (cur I believe you put your meddling:,
hand to it,)" he replied, "that be refused
a pecuniary requeqt, ;undo on the part of
his own daughter, and I do not choose to
have anything more to do with such a hard
hearted old miser."
— N,,w supposing," raid I, "a; one man (1
llrc werl.lialAing En another, it was rather in
hopes to bring thc. , old miser into your
terms; and supposing that your plan hag
taken effect, and that I am instructed to
pay you half your demand—that is to say,
C.-Iwo—upon condition that Mrs. Mount
joy returns to her friends?"
I had e:pected rn outburst of rage at
this proposal, but he only turned himself to
the cabalistic documents neon the table;
after a little consideration he answered
calmly, "No, I must have ,CG000."
Iwas so enraged by this coolness and
want of feeling, that I expressed myself
with an eloquence that WI 11 14 have carried
everything before it at the Old Bailey.
"Swindler! cheat! felon!" I cried (and at
the word felon ho trembled;) "yes, felon,
whom to-morrow may consign to a lifelong
imprisonment, how dare you make condi
tions with me?"
But he recovered himself almost immedi
ately, and bade me leave the room.
"To morrow, sir, will see me far from
Weishaden, with her whom your unselfish
ness is so anxious to divorce from her bus.
hand. Do you think," he added, bitterly,
as I crossed the threshold, ' , that I have not
heard of the family lawyer, the rejected
suitor before now?"
My indiscretion had thus broken off a
treaty which had shown signs of being
favorably settled. If Lucy could have been
got to leave him,the business might have been
by this time legally accomplished; but what
was to be done now? I went straight to
my young steamboat acquaintance, in whose
quickmes I had great c:lnfidence, and laid
before him the circumstances.
Ile repaired with me to the office of his
brother, an attache, who took a great interest
in the whole case. I pro •ut ed the assis
tance of a couple of soldiers, with full in
structions as to how they were to proceed,
and returned with them t • the lodgings of
Mountios. I left my myrmidons outside,
and entering found the Captain alone, but
with a crowd of boxes about him, and every
thing ready fn• departure. I said, "I am
come once more to repeat my offer of this
morning
lle laughed semnfull:, and replied,—
" Since you nre so hot about it, sir, you
must give .CS,OOO for the lady. I will take
no less : in two hours it will be too late ; go
to yonr hotel in the meantime, and debate
the question of "'Love or inomey.' "
"You do not move fron this place unless
I wish," I nnswered. At a sign from me
the soldiers entered, and I continued, " You
are now arrested for living underan assumed
name, and possessing a forged passport; and
you will be confined in prison until graver
charges which may be brought against you
shall have been substantiated."
The last sentence was a happy addition
of my own, and had a great success.
" Well," he said with an appearance of
frankness, "you hare out-tnanamvred me,
I confess ; withdraw your forces, and pay
me the:COM, and I v.-ill perform my part
of the business."
The men retired.
"Shall I take an oath bef.iro you, or will
tny word suffice ?" said he.
"Sir," I replied, "the remits of the last
oath you took in my pre.enc..e have not been
quell as to 1141 , 'C me to a=l; you for an
ot her."
" Ile ^ai I nothing, but a flash came which
forcibly recalled the same in his room• at
the C,,llege. I drew up a ducumont for bite
to sign., which bound him by the stron;:e , t
: his own interest--never to Olin)
Lucy :IR his \life rtgqiu, and he Figncd it
while 7, on my part, gave him a cheque for
the none} - . At that moment in came his
poor wife, with her traveling dress and bon
net on.
" Yon rr.ay take those things off again,"
F iti licr hash:tad calmly ; " r:e are not go-
ing away."
She looked from ono to the other with a
sort of hope just awakening in her tear
worn face.
"You aro going boo to your fatbor,
Lacy:" ho aided.
" Thank God, thank Gad!" she said, " and
thank you Latrenae. flow happy you liaco
[WHOLE 1;U:MBE11, 1,500.
made me ; we will go together to him, and
to the dear old place, and never leave him ;
we will fc,rgct all tle, rest, won't we dear
husbari.l, v..-<)t.Ct Ire,
Mountjoy," I said "your husband
cannot accompany you ; it would not be pos
sible fur your father to sec him even if he
chose to ;.-,o which he does not." I was vc%ed
that she should cling to this rotten tree. I
had ir.en tco much accustomed to Divorce
'Mils, and Breach of promise Actions not to
understand the love that cleaves to its chosen
object, through disgrace, neglect, and crime.
" I do not leave my husband," said she
quietly, "until death doth us part." She
~tood erect . , and laid her hand upon hie
ouldcr, but wills a mournful look : it was
the dignity of love, but also of despair.
He quiet' v and coldly put her arm away.
"It i; I.k.tter for us both Lucy," he said ;
"I wish it to be so I would rntiter he ad
,led, with some ()Fort . , " that
. you never saw
my facs an.a "
She Ha t e a qliort..l,arr, cry, PD.] fen. tiny
ily nn tiin
ror many days she lay fever-strieken, and
delirious; Mrs. Wilmot herself nursed her.
and scare - Ay ever left her side. That poor
gitl banished from her husband, without c.
friend of her own sex, and in a foreign lard,
was index .1 a ens'2 to cache sympathy in
any heart. When si, rekurnt:d to conscious
ness, the face hanging over her sweet eyes
was that of her own father ; it r7as his Li em
ulous voice that answered, NI hon she said
"Laurence: Latirenc.2!" Nevertheless when
the mist over her mind enito cleared away,
,he did not refuse to be comforted, eren
at first. Whatever others might have said
about her husband, whatever proofs of his
unworthiness mighthave been shown to her,
she would have disbelieved, or she would
have forgiven, hut ilia own renunciation of
her cut like a sharp sword her heart strings
from him. She never asked to go to him
again. He became to her an ideal being;
the portrait she possessed of him, the lock
of golden hair, the love letters ho had once
written to her were memorials of a far other
than he who bad said to her, "I would rather
that you never saw my face again." Sho
was taken back to the old Louse, and grew
resigned, and in time almost cheerful. Sho
must have suffered many and terrible things
and her nature recovered itself slowly at the
touch of kindness, as the drooping flower
opens to the sun. The old man became al
most young again, and scarcely ever left her;
he is fuller of kindness towards me than ever,
but not so is Lucy, and I am not wanted at
Thorny Grove I can see. I had a difficult
mission to perform when I went to Wies
baden, and I did not do it ns well perhaps,
as the attache would have done it; from first
to the last, I did my best however, and with
nothing but her good before my eyes.
Some few years aftertheie circumstances,
spent a vacation in Paris, alone. -I went
from sight to sight, until I lost all interest
for such things. One day I had climbed tip
the tower of Nctre Dame, and its giddy
height, and surveying the great city, my
thoughts reverted to Mountjny, and his
rogue-et-noir plans. " And whether," I asked,
"in this great outstretched city, does ,that
hapless man abide? Friendless, and doubt
less beggard by this time, does he still walk
the earth, and remembers he his forsaken
wife, and does be look bask upon his earlier
ME
I know that I said these things to myself
then, and nut afterwards ; I felt my eyes
wandering. back to the sad building that
stands by itself so barely across the Place,
whenever I strove to look; and I left the
stately cathedral with a certain step,•know
ing that I should look upon Laurence
Mountjoy. Drowned and stark there ho lay
indeed, but not to be mistaken by me .for
any other; Ile might have lain in Paris
Morgue until the judgment day without.be
ing claimed. but that I went and found him.
The officials thought, from various -suspici
ous circumstances, that he had beeuthrown
in, in short, murdered ; but I can well be
lieve that he sought refuge voluntarily in
the deep, swift running stream-
What an cad fur the once blithe spirit, en
glorioiri in hope, so ardent In love, cc ge•
nial in fancy, left, thus dishonored, in the
sight of a strange city ! I caused him to be
buried in ft quiet resting place. without the
town, rind stood beside his grate a solitary,
but not unpitying mourner.
I too, like poor Lucy, " make n pieinro ue
my brain," of him at fr.: oths: times, and.
only n hen I charley to see her smileless.face,
and those dark widow's weeds, do I think
involuntarily, and with a shudder, of him
who was cards.
rrom 'he Plii , ol fim•aay ThArniciz
7.lr:E RED HAND:
T 11.1: 01' 11:AT1F1 1, ntrr.xcr.
Cll APTER I
Id Y'• sva!king , Ilndow—a poor ploycr "
Sirs/. tre-e..
• I,t itv• .1, to stv , et Shvr.rrs.
"C7o forth, Clarence Stanley 1 Hence t o
the bleak world, dog I You have repaid my
;generosity with the blackest ingratitude.—
You have forged ray name on a five thous
and-dollar chock—hare repeatedly robbed
my money drawer—have perpct:ated a series
of high-handed villanies—and now to-night,
because, forsooth, I'll not give you more
money to 'pond on your dissolute correpan.
ions you break a chair over my aged bead.
Away You are a young man of small mor
al principle. Don't ever speak tome spin r.
These harsh words fell from the lips of
Horace Blinker, or. of the proud merchant