Skip to main content

Full text of "Helen Ford"

See other formats 


■«HMIMMMiliie^''''~ 


COLESWOHTH  y's  I 

Book  Store     J 

New  and  Second! 
Hand  Books  I 
60  Cornhill     I 

Boston.  Maj^H    I 


:/• 


r 


HELEN  FORD, 


By  HORATIO  ALGER,  Jr., 

AITEHOR  OP  "eAGGED  DICK,"  "  TATTERED  TOM,*^ 
**  LUCK  AND  PLUCK,"  ETC.,  ETa 


THE  JOHN  C.  WINSTON  CO., 

PHILADELPHLA, 
CHICAGO,  TORONTa 


Ibtteredg  s^ss^Sxig  to  Act  of  CoiiKress,  in  the  y€M  2^  1^ 

A.  K.  LORING, 

£l  Ae  C3erk't  Office  of  the  District  Co^st  fo?  the  IMflMstof  Masgadboea^^ 


HELEN  FORD. 


CHAPTER  L 

IN  SEABCH  OF  LODGINGS. 

Not  many  minutes  walk  from  Broadway,  situated  on  one 
of  the  cross  streets  intersecting  the  great  thoroughfare,  is  a 
large  building  not  especially  inviting  in  its  aspect,  used  as 
a  lodging  and  boarding-house.  It  is  very  far  from  fashion- 
able, since,  with  hardly  an  exception,  those  who  avail  them- 
selves of  its  accommodations  belong  to  the  great  class  who 
are  compelled  to  earn  their  bread  before  they  eat  it.  Me- 
chanics, working-men,  clerks  on  small  salaries,  seamstresses, 
and  specimens  of  decayed  gentility,  all  find  a  place  beneath 
its  roof,  forming  a  somewhat  miscellaneous  assemblage.  It 
must  not  be  supposed,  however,  that  perfect  equality  exists 
even  here.  It  is  often  remarked,  that  social  distinctions  are 
more  jealously  maintained  in  the  lower  ranks  than  in  the 
higher.  Here,  for  instance,  Alphonso  Eustace,  a  dashing 
young  clerk,  who  occupies  the  first  floor  front,  looks  down 
with  hauteur  upon  the  industrious  mechanic,  who  rooms  in 
the  second  story  back.  Mademoiselle  Fanchette,  the  fash- 
ionable modiste^  occupying  the  second  story  front,  considers 
it  beneath  her  dignity  to  hold  much  intercom'se  with  Martha 
Grey,  the  pale  seamstress,  whose  small  room  at  the  head  of 
Ihe  third  landing  affords  a  delightful  prospect  of  the  back 


4  HELEN    FOBD. 

yard.  Even  the  occnpants  of  the  fourth  story  look  down, 
which  indeed  their  elevated  position  enables  them  to  do, 
upon  the  basement  lodgers  across  the  way. 

Mother  Morton  is  the  presiding  genius  of  the  ^^stablish- 
ment.  She  is  a  stout,  bustling  woman,  of  considerable  busi- 
ness capacity ;  one  of  those  restless  characters  to  whom 
nothing  is  so  irksome  as  want  of  occupation,  and  who  are 
never  more  in  their  element  than  when  they  have  a  world  of 
business  on  their  hands,  with  little  time  to  do  it  in. 

Mrs.  Morton  is  a  widow,  having  with  characteristic  de- 
spatch, hustled  her  husband  out  of  the  world  in  less  than 
four  years  from  her  wedding-day.  Shortly  afterwards,  being 
obliged  to  seek  a  subsistence  in  some  way,  good  luck  sug- 
gested the  expediency  of  opening  a  boarding-house.  Here 
at  length  she  found  scope  for  her  superabundant  energies, 
and  in  the  course  of  seventeen  years  had  succeeded  in  amass- 
ing several  thousand  dollars,  in  the  investment  of  which  she 
had  sought  advice  from  no  one,  but  acted  according  to  the 
dictates  of  her  own  judgment.  These  investments,  it  must 
be  acknowledged,  proved  to  have  been  wisely  made,  afiTord- 
ing  a  complete  refutation,  in  one  case  at  least,  of  the  asser' 
tion  often  made,  that  women  have  no  business  capacity. 

Why  Mrs.  Morton  should  have  had  the  title  of  mother, 
so  generally  conferred  upon  her,  is  not  quite  clear.  She  had 
never  been  blessed  with  children.  It  might  have  been  her 
ample  proportions,  for  Nature  had  moulded  her  when  in  a 
generous  mood ;  but  at  all  events  for  many  years,  she  had 
been  best  known  by  the  name  of  Mother  Morton. 

Our  landlady  required  promptness  on  the  part  of  her 
lodgers  in  the  payment  of  their  bills.  She  had  no  mercy  on 
those  whom  she  suspected  of  fraudulent  intentions.  In  such 
case«{  ^e  had  but  one  remedy,  and  that  a  most  efficacious 
<Mae,  —  immediate  ejectment.  "When,  however,  no  such  d^ 
sign  was  suspected,  and  faUure  to  make  the  regular  payment 


IN  SEABCH  OT  LODGINaS.  5 

proceeded  from  sickness  or  misfortmie,  she  had  been  knows 
to  manifest  great  krndness  and  consideration.  When,  for 
example  —  Martha  Grey,  the  young  seamstress,  Tras  stricktn 
down  by  a  fever,  induced  by  OTer-work,  Mother  Morton  at- 
tended her  faithfully  during  her  illness,  and,  so  far  from  mak- 
ing an  extra  charge,  even  remitted  her  rent  for  the  time  she 
had  been  ill. 

With  these  preliminary  words,  our  story  begins.     « 

The  dinner  hour  had  passed.  The  last  lingerer  at  the 
table  had  left  the  scene  of  devastation,  which  he  had  con- 
tributed to  make,  and  the  landlady,  who  superintended  the 
clearing  away,  had  just  sent  away  the  last  dish,  when  her  at- 
tention was  arrested  by  a  faint  ring  of  the  door-bell.  Has- 
tily adjusting  her  dress  before  the  glass,  she  proceeded  to 
answer  the  summons  in  person. 

Opening  the  door,  she  saw  standing  before  her  a  young 
girl  of  perhaps  fourteen,  and  a  man,  who,  though  but  little 
over  forty,  looked  nearly  ten  years  older.  The  little  girl  is 
mentioned  first,  for  in  spite  of  her  youth,  and  the  filial  rela- 
tion which  she  bore  to  her  companion,  she  was  the  spokes- 
man, and  appeared  to  feel  that  the  responsibility  in  the 
present  instance  fell  upon  her.  There  was  a  curious  air  of 
protection  in  her  manner  towards  her  father,  &3  if  the  rela- 
tionship between  them  were  reversed,  and  he  were  the 
child. 

"  You  have  lodgings  to  let?"  she  said,  in  a  tone  of  in- 
quiry. 

"  We're  pretty  fiill,  now,"  said  Mother  Morton,  looking 
with  some  curiosity  at  the  eager  face  of  the  young  ques^ 
tioner.    "  All  our  best  rooms  are  taken." 

"  That  makes  no  diflerence,"  said  the  young  girl ;  "  about 
the  best  rooms,  I  mean.    We  are  not  able  to  pay  much." 

She  cast  a  glance  at  her  father,  who  wore  an  abstracted 
look  as  tf  he  were  thinking  of  some  matter  quite  foreign  t« 
1* 


6  HWTi'KTf  lORD. 

the  matter  in  hand.  Catching  her  glance  and  thinking  that 
an  appeal  was  made  to  him,  he  said,  hurriedlj,  ^'  Yes,  my 
child,  you  are  quite  right/* 

"  I  wonder  whether  he's  in  his  right  mind,**  thought  the 
practical  Mrs,  Morton.  "  The  little  girl  seems  to  be  worth 
two  of  him.** 

"  I  have  one  room  in  the  fourth  story,**  she  said  aloud, 
"  which  is  now  vacant.  It  is  rather  small ;  but,  if  it  will 
suit  you,  you  shall  have  it  cheaper  on  that  account.** 

"  I  should  like  to  see  it,**  said  the  child.  "  Come,  father,*' 
taking  him  by  the  hand,  and  leading  him  as  if  she  were  the 
elder ;  "  we*re  going  up  stairs  to  look  at  a  room  which,  per- 
haps, we  may  like  well  enough  to  hire.** 

At  the  head  of  the  fourth  landing  the  landlady  threw  open 
a  door,  revealing  a  small  room,  some  twelve  feet  square, 
scantily  provided  with  furniture.  Its  dreariness  was,  in 
some  measure,  relieved  by  a  good  supply  of  light, — there 
being  two  windows. 

The  young  girl  was  evidently  accustomed  to  look  on  the 
bright  side  of  things ;  for,  instead  of  spying  out  the  defects 
and  inconveniences  of  the  apartment,  her  face  brightened, 
and  she  said,  cheerfiilly,  "  Just  what  we  want,  isn*t  it,  papa? 
See  how  bright  and  pleasant  it  is.** 

Thus  applied  to,  her  father  answered,  "  Yes,  certainly ;  ** 
and  relapsed  into  his  former  abstraction. 

"  I  think,**  said  the  young  girl,  addressing  the  landlady, 
**  that  we  will  engage  the  room ;  that  is,**  she  added,  with 
hesitation,  "  if  the  rent  isn*t  too  high.'* 

Mother  Morton  had  been  interested  in  the  child's  behalf 
by  the  mingling  of  frank  simplicity  and  worldly  wisdom, 
which  she  exhibited,  and  perhaps  not  least  by  the  quiet  air 
of  protection  which  she  assumed  towards  her  father,  for 
whom  it  was  evident  she  entertained  the  deepest  and  most 
devoted  affection.    An  impulse,  which  she  did  not  pause  to 


Of  SEAJtCH  07  LODGINGS.  7 

qaestion,  led  her  to  name  a  rent  much  less  than  she  had  been 
accustomed  to  receive  for  the  room. 

"  One  dollar  and  seventy-five  cents  a  week,"  repeated  tbe 
child.  "  Yes,  that  is  reasonable.  I  think  we  had  bettei 
■engage  the  room ;  don't  you,  papa? " 

"Eh?" 

"  I  think  we  had  better  engage  this  room  at  one  dollar  and 
«eventy-five  cents  a  week." 

"  Oh,  certainly, — that  is,  by  all  means,  if  you  think  best, 
my  child.  You  know  I  leave  all  such  matters  to  you.  I 
have  so  many  other  things  to  think  of,"  he  added,  dreamily, 
raising  his  hand  to  his  forehead. 

"  Yes,"  said  the  child,  softly ;  "  I  know  you  have,  dear 
papa." 

"  We'll  take  the  room,"  she  said  to  Mother  Morton,  whose 
curiosity  momentarily  increased,  "  at  the  price  you  named, 
and  will  commence  now,  if  you  have  no  objection." 

"  Oh,  no ;  but  your  baggage.  You  will  need  to  bring 
that." 

"  We  have  not  much  to  bring.  We  shall  get  it  to-morrow." 

"  You  will  board  yourselves  ?  "  asked  the  landlady. 

"  Yes,  I  shall  cook.  I  am  quite  used  to  it,"  was  the 
grave  reply. 

"  At  any  rate  you  won't  feel  like  it  to-night.  I  will  send 
you  up  some  supper." 

"  Thank  you,"  said  the  child,  her  face  lighting  up  grate- 
fully ;  "  I  am  sure  you  are  very  kind,"  and  she  held  out  her 
hand  in  instinctive  acknowledgment. 

If  Mother  Morton  had  before  been  prepossessed  in  hex 
favor,  this  act,  so  frank  and  child-like,  completed  the  con 
quest  of  her  heart. 

"  I  am  very  glad,"  said  she,  quite  enveloping  in  her  owr 
broad  palm  the  little  hand  which  the  child  extended ;  "  I  ai» 


8  EELSM  VOBD. 

Tery  glad,  my  dear  child,  that  you  are  going  to  live  here.  I 
think  I  shall  like  you." 

"  How  kind  you  are  I "  said  the  child,  earnestly.  "  Every- 
body is  kind  to  father  and  me ; "  and  she  turned  towards  her 
parent,  who  was  gazing  abstractedly  from  the  window. 

"Your  father  does  not  say  much,"  said  Mrs.  Morton, 
nnable  to  repress  her  curiosity. 

"  He  has  a  great  deal  on  his  mind,"  said  the  child,  lower- 
ing her  voice,  and  looking  cautiously  to  see  whether  he 
heard  her ;  but  the  report  of  a  pistol  would  scarcely  have 
disturbed  him,  so  profound  seemed  his  meditations. 

"  Oh  I "  said  the  landlady,  somewhat  surprised ;  "  busi- 
ness, is  it?" 

"  No,"  said  the  child ;  "  not  exactly  business." 

Observing  that  the  landlady  looked  thoroughly  mystified, 
she  added,  quietly,  "  Papa  has  a  great  genius  for  inventing. 
He  is  going  to  make  a  discovery  that  will  give  him  money 
and  fame.  He  is  thinking  about  it  all  the  time,  and  that  is 
the  reason  he  doesn't  say  much.  I  wish  he  wouldn't  think 
quite  so  much,  for  I  am  afraid  it  will  hurt  him." 

Mother  Morton  looked  at  the  father  with  a  sudden  acces- 
sion of  respect. 

"Perhaps  there  is  something  in  him,  after  all,"  she 
thought.  "  There  must  be,  or  this  little  girl,  who  has  a  great 
deal  more  sense  than  many  that  are  older,  wouldn't  believe 
in  him  so  firmly.  I  suppose  he's  a  genius.  I've  heard  of 
such,  but  I  never  saw  one  before.  I  must  think  well  of  him 
for  the  child's  sake." 

"I  hope  your  father'U  succeed,"  she  said  aloud,  "for 
your  sake,  my  child.  I  am  going  down  stairs  now.  Is  there 
anything  you  would  like  to  have  sent  up  ?  " 

"  Nothing,  thank  you." 

"  One  thing  more.    Your  names,  please  ?  *' 


nr  8SASCH  Of  L01>aiNGS.       ,  9 

**  My  father's  name  is  Robert  Ford.    My  name  is  Helen." 

**  Good  afternoon,  Helen.  I  hope  you  will  like  your 
room." 

*'  Thank  you ;  I  am  quite  sure  I  shall." 

The  landlady  descended  the  stairs,  wondering  a  little  &% 
ihe  sadden  liking  she  began  to  feel  for  her  young  lodger. 


CHAPTER   n. 

THE   DBEAMEB. 

The  light  of  a  June  moming  lent  a  warm  and  cheerftil 
look  to  the  broad  streets,  and  under  its  influence  even  the 
dingy  lanes  and  alleys  looked  a  little  less  gloomy  than  usual. 
The  spell  which  had  lain  upon  the  city  during  the  night  sea- 
son was  broken.  Here  and  there  might  be  seen  a  vegetable 
cart  or  a  milk  wagon  rumbling  through  the  streets,  of  late  so 
silent  and  deserted.  Sleepy  clerks  unlocked  the  shops  and 
warehouses,  and  swept  them  in  readiness  for  the  business  of 
the  day.  Hackmen  betook  themselves  to  the  steamboat 
landings  in  the  hope  of  obtaining  a  fare  before  breakfast. 
Creeping  out  from  beneath  old  wagons  and  stray  comers 
where  they  had  been  able  to  procure  shelter  and  lodging, 
came  the  newsboys,  those  useful  adjuncts  to  our  modem  civil- 
ization. Little  time  wasted  they  on  the  duties  of  the  toilet, 
but  shook  themselves  wide  awake,  and  with  the  keen  instinct 
of  trade,  hurried  to  the  newspaper  offices  to  secure  their  pile 
of  merchandise. 

Moming  found  no  sluggards  at  Mrs.  Morton's  boarding- 
house.  With  the  first  flush  of  dawn  she  was  astir,  ordering 
about  her  servants,  and  superintending  the  preparations  for 
breakfast.  This  must  be  ready  at  an  early  hour,  since  her 
boarders  were,  for  the  most  part,  engaged  in  some  daily  avo- 
cation which  required  their  early  attention. 

With  the  early  sun  Helen  rose.  Her  father  was  still 
sleeping.  From  the  nail  on  which  it  hung  she  took  down 
her  bonnet,  and,  with  a  tin  pail  depending  from  her  arm,  sh© 

10 


THE   DREAIOCB.  11 

left  the  room  with  softened  tread,  lest  she  might  awaken  her 
father.  Betaking  herself  to  a  baker's  near  by,  she  bought  a 
couple  of  loaves  of  bread,  and  stopping  a  milkman,  had  her 
pail  filled  with  milk.  A  half-pound  of  butter  purchased  at  a 
grocery  completed  her  simple  marketing,  and  she  hastened 
home. 

When  she  entered  the  boarding-house,  her  cheeks  were 
flushed  with  exercise,  her  eyes  sparkled  with  a  pleasant 
light,  and  her  rare  beauty,  despite  her  plain  attire,  appeared 
to  unusual  advantage.  She  retm-ned  just  in  time  to  meet 
the  boarders  descending  to  breakfast.  Her  childish  beauty 
did  not  fail  to  attract  attention.  Conscious  of  being  ob- 
served, Helen  blushed  a  deeper  crimson,  which  added  to  the 
charm  of  her  beauty. 

.  "Hey!  What  have  we  here?"  exclaimed  Alphonso 
Eustace,  the  dashing  young  clerk,  fixing  a  glance  of  undis- 
guised admiration  upon  her  embarrassed  face.  "A  very 
Peri,  by  Jove  I  Deign  to  inform  me,  fair  maid,  by  what 
name  thou  art  known." 

So  saying,  he  purposely  placed  himself  directly  in  her 
path. 

"  Will  you  let  me  pass,  sir  ?  "  said  Helen,  uneasily,  "  My 
father  is  waiting  for  me." 

"  Your  father !  Then  you  live  here.  I  am  glad  of  that. 
We  shall  be  well  acquainted  before  long,  I  hope.  Won't 
you  tell  me  your  name  ?  " 

"  My  name  is  Helen  Ford,"  said  the  child,  rather  reluc- 
tantly, for  the  clerk  did  not  impress  her  favorably. 

"  And  mine  is  Alphonso  Eustace.  Let  us  shake  hands  to 
our  better  acquaintance." 

"  I  have  both  hands  fiiU,"  returned  Helen,  who  did  not 
much  relish  the  freedom  of  her  new  acquaintance 

"  Then  I  will  await  another  opportunity.    But  you  don't 


12  HELEN   TOKD. 

seem  gracious,  my  dear.    You  must  be  very  tired,  carrying 
tiiat  heavy  pail.    Allow  me  to  carry  it  for  you." 

"  I  am  not  at  all  tired,  and  I  would  much  rather  carry  it 
myself." 

Helen  managed  to  slip  by,  much  to  her  relief,  and  some- 
what to  the  discomfiture  of  the  young  clerk,  who  could  not 
conceal  from  himself  that  his  overtures  had  met  with  a 
decided  rebuff. 

"Never  mind,"  thought  he;  "we  shall  be  better  ac- 
quainted by  and  by." 

"  By  the  way,  Mrs.  Morton,"  he  inquired,  "  tell  me  some- 
thing about  the  little  fairy  I  met  on  the  stairs.  I  tried  to 
scrape  acquaintance  with  her,  but  she  gave  me  very  short 
answers." 

"  I  suppose  it  was  Helen  Ford,"  returned  the  landlady. 
"  She  is  a  little  fairy,  as  you  say.  Is  your  coffee  right, 
M'lleFanchette?" 

"  Quite  right,"  replied  that  lady,  sipping  it.  "  What 
room  do  the  little  girl  and  her  father  occupy  ?  " 

"The  fourth  story  back." 

"  Ah,  indeed !  "  said  M'Ue  Fanchette,  elevating  her  eye- 
brows. It  was  easy  to  see  that  lodging  in  the  fourth  story 
back  was  sufficient  in  her  eyes  to  stamp  Helen  as  one  whose 
acquaintance  it  was  quite  beneath  her  dignity  to  cultivate. 

"  She  has  a  very  sweet,  attractive  face,"  said  Martha  Grey. 

"Beautiful!  angelic  I"  exclaimed  Mr.  Eustace,  with  en- 
thusiasm. 

"  I  don't  see  anything  very  beautiful  or  angelic  about  her," 
remarked  M'lle  Fanchette,  who  would  much  prefer  to  have 
had  her  dashing  neighbor's  admiration  bestowed  upon  herselt 

"You  should  have  seen  the  beautiful  flush  upon  her 
cheeks." 

«  So  I  did." 

"  And  did  you  not  admire  it  ?  •• 


THB  DREAMER.  IS 

"  I  happened  to  look  into  the  kitchen  yesterday,"  returned 
M'lle  Fanchette,  passing  her  plate  for  some  toast,  "  and  I 
•air  Bridget  who  had  been  over  the  hot  stove  all  day,  with 
Just  such  a  pair  of  red  cheeks.    Did  I  admire  her  ?  " 

There  was  a  momentary  silence.  All  who  had  seen 
Helen,  felt  the  injustice  of  the  comparison. 

"  There  is  no  accounting  for  tastes,"  interrupted  the  land- 
lady, somewhat  indignantly.  "  If  you  had  seen  the  tender- 
ness with  which  she  waits  upon  her  father,  who,  poor  man, 
seems  quite  incapable  of  taking  care  of  himself,  you  would 
find  that  she  has  a  heart  as  beautiful  as  her  face.  Her 
beauty  is  not  her  only  attraction." 

"What  does  her  father  do?" 

"  That  is  more  than  I  can  tell.  Helen  says  that  he  is  an 
inventor,  and  that  he  has  made  some  discovery  which  is 
going  to  make  them  rich." 

"  After  all,"  thought  M'lle  Fanchette,  "  it  may  be  well  to 
notice  her.    But  they  are  poor  now  ?  "  she  said  aloud. 

"  Yes.  They  seem  to  have  little  baggage,  and  dress  quite 
plainly.    They  cannot  have  much  property." 

Meanwhile,  Helen,  quite  unconscious  that  she  had  been  a 
subject  of  discussion  among  the  boarders,  drew  out  the 
table  into  the  middle  of  the  room,  and  spread  over  it  a  neat 
white  cloth.  She  then  placed  upon  it  two  bowls  of  different 
sizes  into  which  she  poured  the  milk.  Several  slices  were 
cut  from  one  of  the  loaves  and  laid  on  a  plate.  Near  by 
stood  the  butter.  These  simple  preparations  being  con- 
cluded, she  called  upon  her  father  to  partake. 

"  You  are  a  good  girl,  Helen,"  said  he,  rousing  for  the 
moment  from  his  fit  of  abstraction,  "  You  are  a  good  girl, 
and  I  don't  know  how  I  should  get  along  without  you." 

"  And  I  am  sure  I  could  not  get  along  without  you, 
papa,"  was  her  reply,  accompanied  with  a  glance  of  affeo* 
tion. 

2 


14  HELEK   FOBD. 

"  Have  you  not  always  cared  for  me,  Helen,  and  given  up 
the  society  of  those  of  your  own  age  in  order  to  minister  to 
my  comfort?  But  it  shall  not  always  be  so.  Some  day  I 
shall  be  rich " 

"  When  you  have  completed  your  invention,  papa." 

"  Yes,  when  that  is  completed,"  said  her  father,  earnestly. 
**  Then  we  shall  be  rich  and  honored,  and  my  Helen  shall  be 
dressed  in  silks,  and  ride  in  a  carriage  of  her  own." 

"  You  are  quite  sure  you  shair succeed,  papa?  " 

"  I  am  sure  of  it,"  he  answered,  in  a  tone  of  quiet  con- 
Tiction.  "  I  only  fear  that  some  one  will  be  beforehand  with  • 
me,  and  snatch  away  the  honor  for  which  I  am  toiling.  To 
me  it  seems  passiag  strange  that  mankind  should  have  been 
content  for  so  many  years  to  grope  about  upon  the  earth  and 
never  striven  to  rise  into  the  nobler  element  of  the  air,  while 
the  sea,  which  presents  difficulties  as  great,  is  traversed  in 
every  part.  For  me,"  he  continued,  assuming  a  loftier  mien, 
and  pacing  the  small  room  proudly,  —  "for  me  it  remains 
to  open  a  new  highway  to  the  world.  What  compared  with 
this  will  be  the  proudest  triumphs  of  modem  science?  How 
like  a  snail  shall  we  regard  the  locomotive,  which  now  seems 
a  miracle  of  swiftness  I  Borne  aloft  by  the  appliances  which 
I  shall  furnish,  man  will  emulate  the  proud  flight  of  the 
eagle.  He  will  sMm  over  land  and  sea,  and  in  his  airy 
flight  look  down  upon  the  monuments  of  human  skiU  and 
industry  flitting  before  him,  like  the  shifting  scienes  of  a 
panorama." 

"  It  will  be  a  glorious  destiny,"  said  the  child,  "  and  how 
proud  I  shall  feel  of  you  who  have  done  all  this ! " 

"  While  we  are  speaking,  time  passes,"  said  the  father. 
**  I  should  be  at  work  even  now.  I  must  bring  hither  my 
Implements  without  delay.  Every  moment  wasted  before  I 
attain  my  object,  is  not  my  loss,  only,  but  the  world's." 


THB  DBEAMEB.  15 

"  Wait  till  I  liave  cleared  away  the  table,  papa,  and  I  will 
go  with  you." 

This  was  speedily  done,  and  the  two  descended  the  stairs, 
and  went  forth  into  the  busy  streets  hand  in  hand.  Helen 
diligently  cared  for  the  safety  of  her  father,  who,  plunged 
into  his  usual  abstraction,  would  more  than  once  have  been 
run  oyer  by  some  passing  vehicle  but  for  her  guardianship, 


CHAPTER  m. 

▲    HALl*    RECOGNITION. 

The  character  of  Robert  Ford  may  be  divined  without 
mnch  difficulty  from  the  glimpses  which  have  already  been 
given.  He  was  an  amiable  man,  but  strikingly  deficient  in 
those  practical  traits  which  usually  mark  our  countrymen  and 
command  success  even  imder  the  most  unpromising  circum- 
stances. He  was  not  a  man  to  succeed  in  business,  nor  suit- 
ed for  the  rough  jostling  with  the  world  which  business  men 
must  expect.  He  ought  rather  to  have  been  a  quiet  scholar, 
and  dreamed  away  long  days  in  his  library,  —  "  the  world 
forgetting,  by  the  world  forgot."  Such  would  have  been  his 
choice  if  his  circumstances  had  been  easy.  Under  the  pres- 
sure of  necessity  he  had  turned  aside  from  the  ordinary  paths 
of  money-making  to  devote  himself  to  a  chimerical  plan  by 
which  he  hoped  to  attain  wealth  and  distinction. 

No  man  of  a  well  balanced  mind  would  have  labored  with 
such  sanguine  expectations  of  success  on  a  project  so  uncer- 
tain as  the  invention  of  a  flying  machine.  But  Mr.  Ford 
had  not  a  well  balanced  mind.  He  was  much  given  to  the- 
orizing, and,  like  many  amiable  but  obstinate  persons,  it  was 
as  difficult  to  dislodge  from  his  mind  a  purpose  which  had 
once  gained  entrance  there  as  to  convert  him  by  some  mirac- 
ulous transformation  into  a  sharp  man  of  the  world.  Had 
he  lived  in  the  middle  ages  it  is  very  probable  that  his  tastes 
and  the  habits  of  his  mind  would  have  led  him  to  devote 
himself  to  alchemy,  or  some  other  recondite  science,  whicb 

16 


A  HALF  BECOGmnON.  17 

wouta  v^»^  constuced  his  time  and  money  without  any  ade- 
quate return. 

We  will  now  suppose  three  months  to  have  elapsed  since 
the  events  recorded  in  our  first  chapter ;  three  months  in 
which  the  flowers  of  June  had  been  exchanged  for  the  fiuits 
of  September,  and  the  mellow  beauty  of  autumn  had  suc- 
ceeded the  glory  of  early  summer. 

During  this  time  Helen  has  become  an  established  favorite 
with  all  the  inmates  except  M'Ue  Fanchette,  who  yet,  find- 
ing the  tide  of  general  opinion  against  her,  is  content  with 
privately  stigmatizing  the  child  as  an  "upstart,"  and  a 
*'  forward  hussy,"  though  in  truth  it  would  be  difficult  to  im- 
agine anything  more  modest  or  retiring  than  her  conduct. 
She  and  her  father  still  occupy  the  little  room  in  the  fourth 
story  back.  Nothing  has  come  of  Mr.  Ford's  invention  yet, 
though  he  has  filled  the  room  with  strange,  out-of-the-way 
appliances,  wheels,  and  bits  of  machinery,  on  which  he  labors 
day  after  day  in  the  construction  of  his  proposed  flying  ma- 
chine. His  repeated  failures  have  little  effect  in  damping 
his  spirits.  He  has  the  true  spirit  of  a  discoverer,  and  is  as 
sanguine  as  ever  of  ultimate  success.  He  has  learned  the 
difficult  lesson  of  patience. 

"  With  such  an  end  in  view,"  he  sometimes  exclaims  with 
enthusiasm,  half  to  himself,  half  to  Helen,  "  what  matter  a 
few  months  or  years  !  Rome  was  not  built  in  a  day,  nor  is 
it  to  be  expected  that  a  discovery  which  is  to  affect  the 
whole  world  in  its  consequences,  should  be  the  result  of  a 
few  hours*  or  days'  labor." 

Helen,  whose  veneration  for  her  father  is  unboimded,  lis- 
tens with  the  fullest  confidence,  to  his  repeated  assurances. 
It  pains  her  to  find  that  others  are  more  skeptical.  Even 
Mother  Morton  who,  though  some  find  her  rough,  is  invaria- 
bly kind  to  Helen,  looks  upon  the  father  as  a  visionary, 
since  she  has  discovered  the  nature  of  his  labors.    She  on© 


18  HELEN   FORD. 

day  intimated  this  to  Helen.  It  was  some  time  before  the 
latter  could  understand  that  a  doubt  was  entertained  as  to 
her  father's  success,  and  when  the  conviction  came  slowly, 
it  brought  such  an  expression  of  pain  to  her  face,  that  the 
landlady  resolved  never  in  future  to  venture  upon  an  allu- 
sion which  should  grieve  the  child,  whom  she  could  not  but 
love  the  better  for  her  filial  trust  and  confidence. 

Meanwhile  the  rent  of  the  apartment  which  they  occupy, 
and  the  cost  of  living,  simple  as  is  their  fare,  have  sensibly 
diminished  their  scanty  supply  of  money.  This  Helen,  who 
is  the  steward  and  treasurer,  cannot  help  seeing,  and  she 
succeeds  in  obtaining  work  from  the  slop-shops.  Her  father 
does  not  at  first  discover  this.  One  day,  however,  he  said 
abruptly,  as  if  the  idea  had  for  the  first  time  occurred  to 
him,  "  Helen,  you  always  seem  to  be  sewing,  lately." 

The  child  cast  down  her  eyes  in  some  embarrassment. 
'   "  You  cannot  be  sewing  so  much  for  yourself,"  continued 
her  father.     "  Why,  what  is  this?  "  taking  a  boy's  vest  from 
her  reluctant  fingers.     "  Surely,  this  is  not  yours." 

"  No,  papa,"  answered  Helen,  laughmg ;  "  you  don't 
think  I  have  turned  Bloomer,  do  you  ?  " 

"  Then  what  does  it  mean?  "  questioned  her  father,  in  real 
perplexity. 

"  Only  this,  papa,  that  being  quite  tired  of  sitting  idle, 
and  having  done  all  my  own  sewing,  I  thought  I  might  as 
well  fill  up  the  time,  and  earn  some  money  at  the  same  time 
by  working  for  other  people.  Is  that  satisfactory?"  she 
concluded,  playfully. 

"Surely  this  was  not  necessary,"  said  Mr.  Ford,  with 
pain.     "  Are  we  then  so  poor  ?  " 

"  Do  not  be  troubled,  papa,"  said  Helen,  cheerfully. 
"  We  could  get  along  very  well  without  it ;  but  I  wanted 
something  to  do,  and  it  gives  me  some  pocket-money  for 
myself.    You  must  know  that  I  am  getting  extravagant." 


A  HALF  RECOGNITION.  19 

"  Is  that  all  ?  **  said  her  father,  in  a  tone  of  relief,  the 
shadow  passing  from  his  face.  "  I  am  glad  of  it.  I  could 
not  bear  to  think  of  my  little  Helen  being  compelled  to 
work.  Some  day,"  passing  his  hands  fondly  over  her  luxu- 
riant curls ;  "  some  day  she  shall  have  plenty  of  money." 

This  thought  incited  him  to  fresh  activity,  and  with  new 
zeal  he  turned  to  the  odd  jumble  of  machinery  in  the  comer. 

The  eveniug  meal  was  studiously  simple  and  frugal, 
though  Helen  could  not  resist  the  temptation  of  now  and 
then  purchasing  some  little  delicacy  for  her  father.  He  was 
so  abstracted  that  he  gave  little  heed  to  what  was  set  before 
him,  and  never  noticed  that  Helen  always  abstained  from 
tasting  any  luxury  thus  procured,  confining  herself  strictly 
to  the  usual  frugal  fare. 

After  tea  it  was  the  custom  for  father  and  daughter  to 
walk  out,  sometimes  in  one  direction  sometimes  in  another. 
Often  they  would  walk  up  Broadway,  and  Helen,  at  least, 
found  amusement  in  watching  the  shifting  scenes  which  pre- 
sent themselves  to  the  beholder  in  that  crowded  thorough- 
fare.  Life  in  all  its  varieties,  from  pampered  wealth  to 
squalid  poverty,  too  often  the  fruit  of  a  mis-spent  life  jostled 
each  other  upon  the  sidewalk,  or  in  the  street.  The  splen- 
did equipage  dashes  past  the  humble  handcart ;  the  dashing 
buggy  jostles  against  the  loaded  dray.  Broadway  is  no  ex- 
clusive thoroughfare.  In  the  shadow  of  the  magnificent  ho- 
tel leans  the  foreign  beggar,  just  landed  on  our  shores,  and 
there  is  no  one  to  bid  him  "  move  on."  The  shop  windows, 
too,  are  a  free  "  World's  Fair  Exhibition,"  constantly  chang- 
ing, never  exhausted.  Helen  and  her  father  had  just  re- 
Ijurned  from  a  leisurely  walk,  taken  at  the  close  of  a  day  of 
labor  and  confinement,  and  paused  to  rest  for  a  moment  on 
the  west  side  of  the  Park. 

"While  they  were  standing  there,  a  handsome  carriage 
drove  past.    Within  were  two  gentlemen.    One  was  already 


^0  HSLEN   VOBD. 

well  advanced  in  years,  as  his  gray  hairs  and  wrinkled  face 
made  apparent.  He  wore  an  expression  of  indefinable  sor- 
row and  weariness,  as  if  life  had  long  ago  ceased  to  have 
diarms  for  him.  His  companion  might  be  somewhat  under 
forty.  He  was  tall  and  spare,  with  a  dark,  forbidding  face, 
which  repelled  rather  than  attracted  the  beholder. 

As  the  carriage  neared  the  Park,  the  elder  of  the  two 
looked  out  to  rest  his  gaze,  wearied  with  the  sight  of  brick 
and  stone,  upon  the  verdure  of  this  inclosure.  This,  be  it 
remembered,  was  twenty  years  since,  before  the  Park  had  so 
completely  lost  its  fresh  country  look.  He  chanced  to  see 
Mr.  Ford  and  Helen.  He  started  suddenly  in  visible 
agitation. 

"  Look,  Lewis ! "  he  exclaimed,  clutching  the  arm  of  his 
companion,  and  pointing  to  Mr.  Ford. 

The  younger  man  started  almost  imperceptibly,  and  his 
face  paled,  but  he  almost  instantly  recovered  himself. 

"  Yes,"  he  said,  carelessly ;  "  the  Park  is  looking  well." 

"  Not  that,  not  that,"  said  the  old  man,  hurriedly.  "  That 
man  with  the  little  girl.  He  is,  —  he  must  be  Robert,  my 
long-lost  son.     Stop  the  carriage.    I  must  get  out." 

"  My  dear  uncle,"  expostulated  the  younger  man,  who 
had  been  addressed  as  Lewis,  "  you  are  laboring  under  a 
strange  hallucination.  This  man  does  not  in  the  least 
resemble  my  cousin.  Besides,  you  remember  that  we  have 
undoubted  proof  of  his  death  in  Chicago  two  years  since." 

"  You  may  be  right,"  said  the  old  man,  as  he  sank  back 
into  his  seat  with  a  sigh,  '*  but  the  resemblance  was  won- 
derful." 

"  But,  uncle,  let  me  suggest  that  more  than  fifteen  years 
have  passed  away  since  my  cousin  left  home,  and  even  if  he 
were  living,  he  must  have  changed  so  much  that  we  could 
not  expect  to  recognize  him." 

"  Perhaps  you  are  right,  Lewis ;  and  yet,  when  I  looked  at 


▲  HALF  EECOGNinON.  21 

that  man,  I  was  startled  by  a  look  that  brought  before  me 
my  dead  wife, — my  precious  Helen.  I  fear  I  have  dealt 
harshly  with  her  boy.** 

He  relapsed  into  a  silence  which  his  companion  did  not 
eare  to  disturb.  He  watched  guardedly  the  expression  of 
the  old  man,  and  a  close  observer  might  have  detected  a 
shade  of  anxiety,  as  if  there  were  something  connected 
with  his  uncle's  present  mood  which  alarmed  him.  After  a 
short  scrutiny  he  himself^  fell  into  thought,  and  as  we  are 
privileged  to  read  what  is  concealed  from  all  else,  we  will 
give  the  substance  of  his  reflections. 

"  Here  is  a  new  danger  to  be  guarded  against,  just  at  the 
most  critical  timcy  too.  ShaU  I  never  attain  the  object  of 
my  wishes  ?  Shall  I  never  be  paid  for  the  years  in  which  I 
have  danced  attendance  upon  my  uncle  ?  I  must  succeed  by 
whatever  means.    He  cannot  last  much  longer.*' 

The  evident  weakness  of  his  uncle  seemed  to  justify  his 
prediction.  He  looked  like  one  whose  feet  are  drawing  very 
near  the  brink  of  that  mysterious  river  which  it  is  appointed 
to  all  of  as  at  some  time  to  cross. 


CHAPTER  IV. 

A    GLANCE    BACKWAEIDS. 

It  was  growing  late.  Night  had  drawn  its  sombre  veil 
over  the  great  city,  and  the  streets,  a  little  while  before 
filled  with  busy  passers-by,  now  echoed  but  seldom  to  the 
steps  of  an  occasional  wayfarer.  The  shops  were  closed, 
the  long  day  assigned  to  trade  being  over.  To  plodding 
feet  and  busy  brains,  to  frames  weary  with  exhausting 
labor,  to  minds  harassed  by  anxious  cares,  night  came  in 
friendly  guise,  bringing  the  rest  and  temporary  oblivion  of 
sleep. 

From  a  small  building  in  a  by-street,  or  rather  lane,  which 
nevertheless  was  not  far  removed  from  the  main  thorough- 
fere,  there  gleamed  a  solitary  candle,  emitting  a  fitful  glare, 
which  served,  so  far  as  it  went,  to  give  a  very  unfavorable 
idea  of  the  immediate  vicinity.  Within,  a  young  man,  pain- 
fully thin,  was  seated  at  a  low  table,  engrossing  a  legal  doc- 
ument. The  face  was  not  an  agreeable  one.  The  prevailing 
expression  was  one  of  discontent  and  weak  repining.  He 
was  one  who  could  complain  of  circumstances  without  hav- 
ing the  energy  to  control  them ;  bom  to  be  a  subordinate 
of  loftier  and  more  daring  intellects. 

He  wrote  with  rapidity  and,  at  the  same  time,  with  scru- 
pulous elegance.     He  was  evidently  a  professional  copyist. 

After  bending  over  his  writing  for  a  time,  during  which  he 
was  rapidly  approaching  the  completion  of  his  task,  he  at 
length  threw  aside  the  pen,  exclaiming,  with  an  air  of  relief^ 
**  At  last  it  is  finished !    Thank  Heaven  I  that  is,"  he  added, 

22 


A  GLANCE  BACKWARDS.  23 

after  a  slight  pause,  "  if  there  be  such  a  place,  which  I  am 
sometimes  inclined  to  doubt.  Finished ;  but  what  after  all 
is  a  single  day*s  work?  To-night  I  may  sleep  in  peace,  but 
to-morrow  the  work  must  begin  once  more.  It  is  like  a 
tread-mill,  continually  going  round,  but  making  no  real 
progress.  I  wish,"  he  resumed,  after  a  slight  pause,  "  there 
were  some  way  of  becoming  suddenly  rich,  without  this  wear 
and  tear  of  hand  and  brain.  I  don't  know  that  I  am  so 
much  surprised  at  the  stories  of  those  who,  in  utter  disgust 
of  labor,  have  sold  themselves  to  the  arch  fiend.  Why 
should  I  have  been  bom  with  such  a  keen  enjoyment  of  lux- 
nries,  and  without  the  means  of  obtaining  them?  Why 
should  I  be  doomed " 

When  discontent  had  thus  opened  the  way  for  its  favor- 
able reception,  temptation  camt 

There  was  a  knock  at  the  door. 

Thinking  it  might  be  some  strolling  vagabond  who,  in  his 
intoxication,  was  wandering  he  knew  not  whither,  he  did 
not  at  first  respond,  but  waited  till  it  should  be  repeated. 

It  was  repeated,  this  time  with  a  considerable  degree  of 
force. 

The  young  man  approached  the  door,  but  feeling  appre- 
hensive that  it  might  prove  to  be  some  unwelcome  visitor,  he 
paused  before  drawing  the  bolt,  and  called  out,  in  a  voice 
marked  by  a  tremulous  quaver,  for  he  possessed  but  little 
physical  courage,  "  Who  are  you  that  come  here  at  such  an 
unseasonable  hour?  Unless  I  know  your  name,  I  shall  not 
let  you  in." 

"  Don't  be  alarmed,  Jacob,"  was  the  reply.  "  It  is  only 
I,  Lewis  Rand.  Open  at  once,  for  I  come  on  business 
which  must  be  quickly  despatched." 

The  explanation  was  evidently  satisfactory,  for  the  scriv- 
ener in  eager  haste  opened  the  door,  and  admitted  his  visitor. 
It  was  the  younger  of  the  two  men  upon  whom  the  chance 


24  HELEN   FOMD. 

meeting  with  Helen  and  her  father  seemed  to  have  produced 
an  impression  so  powerful.  Jacob,  though  well  acquainted 
with  him,  was  evidently  surprised  at  his  presence  at  an  hour 
so  unseasonable,  for  he  exclaimed,  in  a  tone  of  mingled  sur- 
prise and  deference,  "  You  here,  Mr.  Rand,  and  at  this  time 
of  night  I  It  must  be  something  important  which  has  called 
you  at  an  hour  when  most  men  are  quietly  sleeping  in  their 
beds.** 

"  Yet  you  are  up,  Jacob,  and  at  work,  as  I  conjecture," 
said  the  visitor,  pointing  to  the  table  on  which  the  completed 
sheets  were  still  lying. 

"True,"  said  the  copyist,  for  this  recalled  to  him  the 
grounds  of  his  discontent ;  "  but  I  must  work  while  others 
sleep,  or  accept  a  worse  alternative.  Sometimes  I  am 
tempted  to  give  up  the  struggle.  You  have  never  known 
what  a  hard  taskmaster  poverty  is." 

"  Perhaps  not,"  returned  the  other;  "but  I  can  testify 
that  the  apprehension  of  poverty  is  not  *ess  formidable. 
However,  I  can  perhaps  lend  you  a  helping  hand,  since  the 
business  on  which  I  come,  if  successfully  carried  out,  of 
which  with  your  co-operation  I  have  strong  hopes,  will  prove 
go  important  to  me  that  I  shall  be  able  to  put  a  better  face 
upon  your  affairs." 

"  Ah  I "  said  the  young  man,  with  suddenly  awakening 
taterest ;  "  what  may  it  be?  I  will  gladly  give  you  all  the 
aid  in  my  power." 

"  Jacob,"  said  his  visitor,  fixiug  his  eyes  steadily  upon  the 
scrivener,  "  you  know  there  is  an  old  maxim,  '  Nothing  ven- 
ture, nothing  have.*  In  other  words,  he  who  aims  to  be  suc- 
cessful in  his  undertakings,  must  not  scruple  to  employ  the 
means  best  suited  to  advance  his  interests,  even  though  they 
may  involve  the  possibility  of  disaster  to  himself.  Do  you 
comprehend  my  meaning  ?  " 

"  Not  entirely.    At  least,  I  need  to  be  informed  of  the 


A   6LAKCE   BACKWABDS.  25 

connection  between  what  has  just  been  said  and  the  service 
you  require  at  my  hands." 

"  You  shall  presently  know.  But  first  promise  me  sol- 
emnly that  what  I  may  say,  and  any  proposition  which  I  may 
m»ke  to  you  to-night,  shall  forever  remain  a  secret  between 
us  two." 

The  scrivener  made  the  required  promise,  though  his  won- 
der was  not  a  little  excited  by  the  extraordinary  language 
and  significant  tone  of  his  companion. 

"I  promise,"  he  said.  "You  may  proceed.  I  anj 
ready." 

"  You  are  quite  alone,  I  suppose,"  said  Lewis,  inquir- 
ingly.    "  There  is  no  fear  of  eavesdroppers?" 

"  Not  the  least,"  replied  Jacob,  muttering  to  himself  in  an 
undertone,  "  Margaret  must  be  fast  asleep,  I  think.  You 
need  be  under  no  apprehensions,"  he  said,  aloud.  "We 
ahall  not  be  disturbed." 

At  this  moment  a  small  clock  over  the  mantel  struck  two. 

"  Two  o'clock !  "  exclaimed  Lewis.  "  I  had  not  supposed 
it  so  late.  However,  it  is  perhaps  better,  since  we  are  the 
safer  from  interruption.  You  are  somewhat  acquainted,"  he 
continued,  "  with  the  position  in  which  I  stand  to  my  uncle. 
For  years  I  have  been  his  constant  companion,  the  slave  of 
his  whims  and  caprices,  depriving  myself  of  more  agreeable 
and  congenial  society,  in  order  to  maintain  my  hold  upon 
his  affections,  and  secure  the  inheritance  of  his  large  prop- 
erty. No  son  would  have  done  as  much  as  I  have.  And 
now,  when  half  my  life  is  gone,  and  the  realization  of  my 
hopes  is  apparently  near  at  hand,  an  incident  has  occurred, 
which  threatens  to  disarrange  all  my  plans,  and  defraud  me 
of  all  but  a  tithe  of  that  which  I  have  so  long  looked  upon 
as  my  sure  inheritance." 

"  Surely,  your  uncle  has  no  nearer  relatives  than  youP' 
telf ! "  exclaimed  Jack,  in  surprise. 


26  HELEN    FOSD. 

"  That  is  what  the  world  thinks,  but  they  are  deceived. 
My  uncle  has  a  son,  and  that  son  has  a  daughter.  You  see, 
therefore,  that  there  is  no  lack  of  heirs.  But  you  need  an 
explanation. 

"  My  father  died  when  I  was  not  quite  five  years  of  age. 
He  was  what  is  called  a  gay  man,  and  spent  freely  what 
property  he  possessed,  in  extravagant  liviug,  and,  lest  that 
might  not  prove  sufficient,  he  lost  large  sums  at  the  gaming 
table.  He  died  in  an  affair  of  honor  which  grew  out  of  a 
dispute  with  one  of  his  gambling  acquaintances,  leaving,  as 
my  inheritance,  a  few  debts  and  nothing  more.  But  for  my 
uncle  I  should  have  been  thrown  upon  the  cold  charities  of 
the  world.  Fortunately  for  me,  my  uncle  had  none  of  his 
brother's  vices,  and  had  preserved  his  property  intact,  so 
that  when  need  came,  he  was  able  to  stretch  forth  a  helping 
hand  to  his  nephew. 

"  I  can  remember  the  day  when  I  became  an  inmate  of 
my  uncle's  household.  I  did  not  mourn  much  for  my  father, 
who  seldom  took  any  notice  of  me.  Child  as  I  was,  I  under- 
stood that  his  death,  in  consigning  me  to  my  uncle's  care, 
had  left  me  better  off  than  before. 

"  I  was  nearly  five,  as  I  have  said.  My  uncle  had  a  son, 
—  but  one,  —  who  was  two  years  my  senior.  So  my  cousin 
Robert  and  I  grew  up  together.  Although  we  were  treated 
in  every  respect  alike,  having  the  same  tutors,  the  same 
wardrobe,  and  even  sharing  the  same  room,  I  cannot  remem- 
ber a  time  when  I  did  not  hate  him.  There  was  nothing  in 
his  manner  or  his  treatment  of  me  that  should  lead  to  this, 
I  acknowledge.  He  always  treated  me  as  a  brother,  and  I 
suffered  not  a  word  or  a  gesture,  not  even  a  look,  to  indicate 
that  I  did  not  regard  him  in  the  same  light.  You  will  per- 
haps wonder  at  my  aversion.  It  is  easily  explained.  Al- 
though our  treatment  was  the  same,  I  soon  learned  that  our 
prospects  were  very  different.    I  soon  became  aware  that 


A  GLANCE  BACKWARDS.  27 

he,  as  heif  of  his  father's  wealth,  already  considerable  and 
rapidly  increasing,  was  considered,  by  many,  a  far  more  im- 
portant personage  than  myself.  Notwithstanding  my  uncle's 
indulgence  to  me,  I  well  knew  that  his  pride,  and  a  certain 
desire,  inherited  from  his  English  ancestors,  that  his  estate 
should  be  handed  down  entire  from  generation  to  generation, 
would  receive  anything  beyond  a  moderate  annuity.  I 
could  not  brook  my  cousin's  superior  prospects,  and  deter- 
mined te  injure  him  with  my  uncle,  if  an  opportunity 
offered. 

"  The  opportunity  came.  My  cousin  fell  in  love  with  a 
beautiful  girl,  who,  but  for  her  poverty,  would  have  attracted 
me  also.  This,  however,  proved  an  insuperable  obstacle. 
I  waited  until  the  attachment  had  ripened  into  the  most 
ardent  affection,  and  then  I  made  it  Imown  to  my  uncle  with 
all  the  embellishments  which  I  thought  best  calculated  to 
arouse  his  irritation.  The  object  of  my  cousin's  attachment 
I  described  as  an  awkward  country-girl,  without  cultivation 
or  refinement.  It  was  a  heavy  blow  to  my  uncle's  pride,  for 
he  had  nouiished  high  hopes  for  his  son,  and  aspired  to  an 
alliance  with  a  family  as  old  and  distinguished  as  his  own. 
In  the  exasperation  of  the  moment  he  summoned  Robert  to 
him,  and  peremptorily  insisted  on  his  at  once  giving  up  his 
attachment,  stigmatizing  the  object  of  it  in  such  terms  as  I 
had  employed  in  describing  her.  My  cousin's  spirit  was  nat- 
urally roused  by  such  manifest  injustice,  and  he  refused  to 
accede  to  his  father's  wishes.  The  discussion  was  a  stormy 
one,  and  terminated  as  I  hoped  and  believed  it  would.  My 
cousin  went  forth  from  the  house,  disowned  and  disinheritedf 
and  I  remained,  filling  his  place  as  heir." 

Jacob  surveyed  the  speaker  with  a  glance  of  admiration. 
He  paid  homage  to  a  rascality  which  surpassed  liis  own. 
He  admired  his  craftiness  and  address,  while  his  want  of 
principle  did  not  repel  him. 


28  HELEN    FOBD. 

"  What  became  of  yonr  cousin?"  inquired  tlie  scrivener, 
after  a  pause. 

"  He  married  and  went  out  West.  He  possessed  a  small 
property  inherited  from  his  mother,  and  this  enabled  him  to 
live  in  a  humble  way.  I  have  heard  little  of  him  since,  ex- 
cept that  he  had  but  one  child,  a  daughter,  who  must  now 
be  not  far  from  fourteen  years  old.  This  I  learned  from  a 
letter  of  her  father's  which  I  intercepted.** 

"  Has  your  uncle  ever  shown  any  symptoms  of  relent- 
ing?** asked  Jacob. 

"  Two  years  ago  he  was  very  sick  and  it  was  thought  he 
might  die.  During  that  sickness  he  referred  so  often  to  his 
son  that  I  began  to  tremble  for  my  prospective  inheritance. 
I  accordingly  procured  a  notice  of  his  death  to  be  inserted  in 
a  Chicago  paper,  which  I  took  care  to  show  my  uncle.  The 
authenticity  of  this  he  never  dreamed  of  doubting,  and  I  felt 
that  my  chances  were  as  good  as  ever.  But  within  the  last 
week  a  fact  has  come  to  my  knowledge  which  fills  me  with 
alarm.** 

The  coppst  looked  up  inquiringly. 

*'  It  is  this,*'  resumed  Lewis.  "  Not  only  is  my  cousin 
living,  but  he  is  in  this  city.  Furthermore  my  uncle  has  seen 
him,  and  but  for  my  solemn  assurance  that  he  was  mistaken, 
and  my  recalling  to  his  recollection  that  Robert*s  death  was 
well  attested,  he  would  have  taken  immediate  measures  foi 
finding  htm  out.  K  found,  he  would  be  at  once  reinstated  in 
his  birthright,  and  I  should  be  reduced  to  the  position  of  a 
humble  dependent  upon  my  uncle's  bounty.** 

"  But  you  have  escaped  the  danger,  and  all  is  well  again." 

''By  no  means.  Notwithstanding  my  representation,  my 
uncle  clings  obstinately  to  the  belief  that  either  he  or  some 
child  of  his  may  be  living,  and  only  yesterday  caused  a  new 
wlQ  to  be  drawn  up,  leaving  the  bulk  of  his  estate  to  his  son 
&[  his  son*s  issue ;  and,  failing  these,   to  me.    You  will 


A  GLANCE  BACKWARDS.  29 

readily  see  how  I  stand  affected  by  tMs.  Of  course  in  the 
event  of  my  cousin's  death  a  search  will  be  immediately 
instituted  for  my  cousin  and  his  daughter,  and  being  in 
the  city  they  will  probably  be  found." 

"  Your  prospects  are  certainly  not  of  the  most  encourag- 
ing character,"  said  Jacob,  after  a  pause.  But,  if  I  may 
venture  to  inquire,  what  assurance  have  you  that  such  is  the 
tenor  of  your  uncle's  will  ?  " 

"  This,"  replied  Rand,  taking  from  a  side-pocket  a  piece 
of  parchment  tied  with  a  blue  ribbon,  and  leisurely  unrolling 
it.    Jacob  watched  his  movements  with  curiosity. 

"This,"  said  he,  bending  a  searching  glance  upon  the 
scrivener,  as  if  to  test  his  fidelity ;  "  this  is  my  uncle's  will.** 

The  copyist  could  not  repress  a  start  of  astonishment. 
"  The  will  1 "  he  exclaimed.    "  How  did  you  obtain  pos- 
session of  it  ?  " 

Lewis  smiled. 

"  It  was  for  my  interest,"  he  s^d  briefly,  "  to  learn  the 
contents  of  this  document,  and  I  therefore  made  it  my  busi- 
ness to  find  it.  You  see  that  I  have  been  successful.  Read 
it." 

The  copyist  drew  the  lamp  nearer,  and  read  it  slowly  and 
deliberately. 

"  Yes,"  said  he,  at  length,  looking  up  thoughtfiilly ;  "  the 
contents  are  as  you  have  described.  May  I  ask  what  it  is 
your  intention  to  do  about  it,  and  what  is  the  service  I  am 
to  render  you?" 

"  Can  you  not  guess  ? "  demanded  his  visitor,  filing  his 
eyes  meaningly  upon  him. 

"  No,"  returned  the  scrivener,  a  little  uneasily ;  "  I  can- 
not." 

"  You  are  skilful  with  the  pen,  exceedingly  skilfiil,*'  re- 
sumed Lewis,  meaningly.    "  Indeed,  there  has  been  a  time 


80  HELEN    FORD. 

when  this  accomplishment  came  near  standing  you  in  good 
Btead,  though  it  might  also  have  turned  to  your  harm." 

Jacob  winced. 

*'  Ah ! "  pursued  the  visitor,  "  I  see  you  have  not  forgot- 
ten a  little  occurrence  in  the  past,  when,  but  for  my  inter- 
Yention,  you  might  have  been  convicted  of —  shall  I  say  it? 
— -  forgeiy.  You  need  not  thank  me.  I  never  do  anything 
without  a  motive.  I  don't  believe  in  disinterestedness.  The 
idea  struck  me  even  at  that  time  that  I  might  at  some  time 
have  need  of  you." 

"  I  am  ready,"  said  Jacob,  submissively. 

"  That  is  well.  What  I  want  you  to  do  is  this.  You 
must  draw  me  up  another  will  as  nearly  like  this  as  possi- 
ble, except  that  the  whole  estate  shall  be  devised  to  me  un- 
conditionally.   Well,  man,  what  means  that  look  of  alarm  ?  " 

"  It  will  be  very  dangerous  to  both  of  us,"  faltered  the 
copyist. 

"  It  will  be  a  forgery,  I  admit,"  said  Lewis,  calmly ;  "  but 
what  is  there  in  that  word,  forgery^  which  should  so  discom- 
pose youf  Did  it  ever  occur  to  you  that  the  old  charge 
might  be  renewed  against  jou,  when  no  intervention  of  mine 
will  avail  to  save  you  ?  " 

The  copyist  perceived  the  threat  implied  in  those  words, 
and  hastened  to  propitiate  his  visitor,  of  whom  he  seemed  to 
stand  in  wholesome  fear. 

"  Nay,"  said  he,  submissively,  "you  know  best  the  daa- 
ger  to  both  of  us." 

"  And  I  teU  you,  Jacob,  there  is  none  at  aU.  You  are  so 
canning  with  the  pen  that  you  may  easily  defy  detection, 
and  for  the  rest,  I  will  take  the  hazard." 

"  And  what  will  be  the  recompense  ?  "  inquired  the  scriv- 
ener. 

^'  Two  hundred  dollars  as  soon  as  the  task  is  completed,** 


A  GLANCE  BACKWARDS.  31 

was  the  prompt  reply.  "  One  thousand  more  when  the  suo- 
eess  of  the  plan  is  assured." 

Jacob's  eyes  sparkled.     To  him  the  bribe  was  a  fortune. 

"  I  consent,"  he  said ;  "  give  me  the  will.  I  must  study 
it  for  a  time  to  become  familiar  with  the  handwritinoj." 

He  drew  the  lamp  nearer  and  began  to  pore  earnestly  over 
the  manuscript,  occasionally  scrawling  with  the  pen  which 
he  held  in  his  hand  an  imitation  of  some  of  the  characters. 
It  was  a  study  for  an  artist,  — those  two  men,  —  each  deter- 
mined upon  a  wrong  deed  for  the  sake  of  personal  advantage. 
Lewis,  with  his  cool,  self-possessed  manner,  and  the  copyist, 
with  his  ignoble  features  and  nervous  eagerness,  divided  be- 
tween the  desire  of  gain  and  the  fear  of  detection. 

All  this  time  a  woman's  eye  might  have  been  seen  peering 
through  a  slightly  open  door,  and  regarding  with  a  careful 
glance  all  that  was  passing.  The  two  men  were  so  intent 
upon  the  work  before  them  that  she  escaped  their  notice. 

*'  O  ho,"  said  she  to  herself,  "  there  shall  be  a  third  in 
the  secret  which  you  fancy  confined  to  yourselves.  Who 
knows  but  it  may  turn  out  to  my  advantage,  some  day  ?  I 
will  stay  and  see  the  whole." 

She  drew  back  silently,  and  took  her  position  just  behind 
the  door,  where  nothing  that  was  said  could  escape  her. 

Meanwhile  Jacob,  having  satisfied  himself  that  he  could 
imitate  the  handwriting  of  the  will,  commenced  the  task  of 
copying.  Half  an  hour  elapsed  during  which  both  parties 
preserved  strict  silence.  At  the  end  of  that  time  the  copy- 
ist, with  a  satisfied  air,  handed  Lewis  the  manuscript  he  had 
completed.  The  latter  compared  the  two  with  a  critical  eye. 
Everything,  including  the  names  of  the  witnesses,  was  won- 
derfully like.  It  was  extremely  diflScult  from  the  external 
appearance,  to  distinguish  the  original  from  the  copy. 

"Yoa  have  done    your  work  faithfully  and  well,"  said 


32  HSLXK   VOSD. 

Lewis,  with  evident  satisfaction,  "  and  deserve  great  crediti 
You  are  wonderfully  skUful  with  the  pen." 

The  copyist  rubbed  his  hands  complacently. 

"  With  this  I  think  we  need  not  fear  detection.  Here  are 
the  two  hundred  dollars  which  I  promised  you.  The  re- 
mainder is  contingent  on  my  getting  the  estate.  I  shall  be 
faithful,  in  that  event,  to  my  part  of  the  compact. 

Jacob  bowed. 

"It  must  be  very  late,"  said  Lewis,  drawing  out  his  watch. 
"  I  am  sorry  to  have  kept  you  up  so  late ;  but  no  doubt  you 
feel  paid.    I  must  hasten  back." 

He  buttoned  his  coat,  and  went  out  into  the  street.  A 
smUe  lighted  up  his  dark  features  as  he  speculated  upon  the 
probable  success  of  his  plans.  He  felt  not  even  a  momen- 
tary compunction  as  he  thought  of  the  means  he  had  em- 
ployed or  the  object  he  had  in  view. 

Meanwhile  those  whom  he  was  conspiring  to  defraad  were 
sleeping  tranquilly. 


CHAPTER  V. 

THB  PETTIFOGGER, 

Thb  legal  profession  numbers  among  its  disciples  a  larg# 
class  of  honorable  and  high-minded  men ;  and  it  also  in- 
cludes some  needy  adventurers  well  versed  in  the  arts  of 
pettifogging  and  chicanery,  and  willing,  for  a  consideration, 
to  throw  over  the  most  discreditable  proceedings  the  mantle 
of  the  law,  thus  perverting,  to  the  injury  of  the  public,  that 
which  was  intended  for  its  principal  safeguard. 

Of  this  latter  class  was  Kicnara  Sharp,  Barrister,  whose 
name  might  have  been  read  on  the  door  of  an  exceedingly 
dirty  little  office  not  far  from  WaU  Street.  Being  under  the 
necessity  of  introducing  my  reader  to  some  acquaintances 
and  localities  not  altogether  desirable  I  must  trouble  him  to 
enter  Mr.  Sharp's  office. 

In  the  centre  of  the  office  stands  a  table  covered  with 
green  baize.  Scattered  over  it  are  diverse  bundles  tied  with 
red  tape,  evidently  intended  to  give  the  unsophisticated  vis- 
itor the  impression  that  Mr.  Sharp's  business  is  in  a  most 
flourishing  condition.  Nevertheless,  since  the  novelist  is 
permitted  to  see  farther  into  the  shams  which  he  describes 
than  is  accorded  to  others  less  privileged,  it  may  be  remark- 
ed that  these  identical  bundles  have  lain  upon  the  table  with 
no  other  alteration  than  an  occasional  change  of  arrange- 
ment, ever  since  the  office  was  opened. 

The  enterprising  proprietor  of  the  bundles  aforesaid  is 
smoking  a  cigar,  while  reading  the  Morning  Herald,  and 
occasionally  glancing  out  of  the  window  near  by.    His  fear 

33 


S4  HELEN   FORD. 

tures  would  hardly  justify  the  description  of  "  beauty  in  re- 
pose," being  deeply  pitted  with  smallpox,  which  is  not  usu- 
ally thought  to  improve  the  appearance.  His  nose  is-  large 
and  spreading  at  the  base.  His  hair  is  deeply,  darkly,  beau- 
tifully red,  bristling  like  a  cat's  fur  when  accidentally 
rubbed  the  wrong  way.  Add  to  these  a  long,  scraggy  neck, 
and  the  reader  has  a  tolerable  idea  of  Mr.  Sharp  as  he  sat  in 
his  office  on  the  first  day  of  October,  18 — . 

How  long  he  would  have  sat  thus,  if  uninterrupted,  is.  un- 
certain. His  meditations  were  broken  in  upon  by  a  quick, 
imperative  knock  at  the  door.  The  effect  upon  Mr.  Sharp 
was  electrical.  He  sprang  from  his  seat,  tossed  his  cigar 
away,  wheeled  his  chair  round  to  the  table,  and  drawing  a 
blank  legal  form  towards  him,  knit  his  brows  and  began  to 
write  as  if  life  and  death  depended  upon  his  haste.  Mean- 
while the  visitor  became  impatient  and  rapped  again,  this 
time  more  imperatively. 

"  Come  in,"  called  Mr.  Sharp,  in  a  deep  bass  voice,  not 
raising  his  eyes  from  the  paper  on  which  his  pen  was  now 
scratching  furiously.  "  Take  a  seat ;  shall  be  at  leisure  in  a 
moment, —  full  of  business,  you  know, —  can't  get  a  moment's 
rest." 

When  at  length  he  found  time  to  look  up,  he  met  the  gaze 
of  our  recent  acquaintance,  Lewis  Rand.  The  latter,  who 
had  penetration  enough  to  see  through  the  lawyer's  artifice, 
smiled  a  little  derisively. 

"  It  must  be  a  satisfaction  to  you,"  he  said,  rather  dryly, 
"  to  find  your  services  in  such  request." 

"  Why,  yes,  ahem !  yes,"  said  the  lawyer,  passing  his  fin- 
gers through  his  bristling  locks.  "It  is  a  satisfaction  as 
you  say,  though  I  confess,"  he  continued,  with  a  dashing 
e&ontery  quite  refreshing  to  contemplate,  "  that  sometimes 
when  my  labors  are  protracted  far  into  the  night,  I  feel  thai: 


THB    PETTIFOGOEB.  35 

business  has  its  pains  as  well  as  pleasures,  and  cannot  help 
wishing  that ** 

"  That  you  had  a  partner  to  relieve  you  of  a  portion  of 
your  toils,  you  doubtless  mean  to  say,"  interrupted  Lewis, 
with  a  quizzical  smile ;  for  he  was  quite  aware  that  Mr. 
Sharp  meant  no  such  thing.  "  In  that  case  I  know  the  very 
man  for  you ;  a  young  man  just  entered  at  the  bar,  very 
promising,  and  bidding  fair  to  distinguish  himself  in  his  pro* 
fession.  I  should  be  happy  to  serve  both  you  and  him. 
When  shall  I  introduce  him  ?  " 

"  Why,"  said  Sharp,  in  some  embarassment,  for  he  knew 
to  his  cost  that  his  business  was  quite  too  limited  to  support 
himself,  much  less  a  partner.  "  Why,  you  see,  although  my 
business  is,  as  I  said,  very  driving,  I  do  not  at  present  think 
of  taking  a  partner.  The  fact  is,  I  never  enjoy  myself 
more  than  when  I  am  hard  at  work.  It  is  an  idiosyncrasy 
of  mine,  if  I  may  so  express  myself." 

And  Mr.  Sharp  looked  up,  thinking  he  had  made  a  very 
clever  evasion. 

"  When  I  do  conclude  to  take  a  partner,  which  the  increase 
of  my  business  may  at  some  time  render  absolutely  neces- 
sary," he  added,  graciously  inclining  his  head,  "  I  will  cer- 
tainly think  of  your  friend.  Your  recommendation  will  be  a 
sufficient  guarantee  of  his  ability." 

"  I  feel  deeply  indebted  to  you  for  the  confidence  you  ex- 
press in  my  judgment,"  said  Lewis,  bowing,  "  particularly 
as  I  am  a  perfect  stranger  to  you.  Such  instances  are  rarely 
met  with  in  a  world  like  ours." 

Mr.  Sharp  was  not  quite  sure  whether  his  visitor  was  not 
secretly  bantering  him.  He  thought  it  best,  however,  to 
construe  his  meaning  literally. 

"  I  am  not  usually  hasty  in  bestowing  my  confidence,  Mr. 
*—  your  name  escaped  me." 

"  I  think  I  have  not  mentioned  it." 


96  HXLEN   FOKD. 

**  O  ho,  ahem  I  perhaps  not,"  continued  Mr.  Sharp,  finding 
Ms  little  artifice, to  obtain  his  visitor's  name  ineffectual,  "  but 
as  I  was  about  to  say,  I  seldom  give  my  confidence  without 
good  reason.  I  am  —  I  may  say  —  somewhat  skilled  in 
physiognomy,  and  a  cursory  examination  of  the  features  is 
sufficient,  in  ordinary  cases,  to  enable  me  to  form  an  opinion 
of  a  person." 

Mr.  Sharp  was  fertile  in  expedients,  and  had  an  abundant 
share  of  self-possession. 

"Perhaps  we  had  better  proceed  to  business,"  said  Lewis, 
abruptly. 

"  Oh,  by  all  means,  sir,  by  all  means  1 "  returned  Mr. 
Sharp,  assuming  a  brisk  tone  at  the  prospect  of  a  client. 
"  As  I  before  remarked,  I  never  feel  more  completely  in  my 
element  than  when  immersed  in  business.    It  is  an  — —  " 

"  K  you  will  give  me  your  attention  for  a  few  minutes," 
pursued  Lewis,  unceremoniously  interrupting  him,  "I  will 
endeavor  to  explain  the  nature  of  the  service  I  require." 

Mr.  Sharp  bent  forward,  and  assumed  an  attitude  of  the 
most  earnest  attention.  He  nodded  slightly,  and  screwed 
up  his  eyes,  as  if  to  intimate  that  he  was  about  to  concen- 
trate all  his  mental  energies  upon  the  matter  ia  hand. 

"  You  must  know,"  said  Lewis,  slowly,  "  that  there  are 
two  persons  living  in  this  city  whose  presence,  in  what  way 
it  is  needless  to  specify,  conflict  very  seriously  with  my  in- 
terests. It  is  my  wish  to  briag  some  motive  to  bear  upon 
them  which  shall  lead  to  their  departure  from  the  city." 

"  I  understand,"  nodded  Mr.  Sharp,  with  an  air  of  pro- 
found wisdom.    Go  on,  my  good  sir." 

"  One  difficulty,  however,  meets  me  at  the  outset,"  con- 
linued  Lewis ;  "  I  do  not  know  in  what  part  of  the  city  the 
Iwo  persons " 

"  Aforesaid,"  prompted  Mr.  Sharp,  nodding  sagaciously^ 


THB  psmFooasB.  d? 

'*  Live,**  concluded  Lewis,  not  heeding  the  interpolation ; 
"  nor  have  I  any  definite  clew  by  which  to  find  them." 

"  Can  you  describe  these  persons  to  me  so  that  I  may  be 
able  to  identify  them?  '* 

"  That  is  not  easy,  since  one  of  them  I  have  never  seen 
but  once,  and  the  other  but  once  in  fifteen  years." 

Mr.  Sharp  looked  a  little  puzzled. 

"I  can,  however,  tell  you  this  much.  One  is  a  man  of 
about  forty,  who  appears  somewhat  older.  The  other,  his 
daughter,  is  a  girl  of  fourteen,  or  thereabouts.  The  former 
is  a  little  absent  in  manner,  or  was  formerly  so ;  the  little 
girl,  I  should  judge,  is  attractive  in  her  personal  appear- 
ance." 

"  When  did  you  last  meet  them?"  inquired  the  lawyer. 

"  One  evening  last  week." 

"  And  where  ?  " 

"  They  were  then  leaning  against  the  railing  on  the  west 
Side  of  the  Park." 

"  Can  you  tell  at  what  hour?  " 

"About  six." 

"  Then  it  is  quite  possible  that  they  may  be  found  at  the 
same  place  some  evening,  at  or  near  this  hour.  Very  prob- 
ably they  are  in  the  habit  of  taking  a  walk  at  that  time  and 
In  that  direction.  We  are  all  creatures  of  habit,  and  are  apt 
to  stick  to  the  ruts  we  have  made.  Have  you  no  other  clew 
by  which  I  may  be  guided?  It  is  quite  likely  that  there  are 
others  to  whom  the  description  you  have  given  will  apply. 
When  you  saw  them,  in  what  manner  were  they  dressed  ?  " 

"  I  had  but  a  brief  glimpse,  and  do  not  feel  altogether 
sure.  The  father  is  as  tall  as  yourself.  I  can  tell  you  the 
giiFs  name  also ;  it  is  Helen." 

"And  her  father's?" 

"  I  could  tell  you  his  real  name,  but  as  I  have  every  reason 
to  believe  that  he  has  dropped  it  and  assumed  another,  it 


88  HELEN    FORD. 

will,  perhaps,  be  nimecessary.  His  christian  name  is  Kol> 
ert." 

"  The  first  step,  then,"  said  Mr.  Sharp,  reflectively,  "  is, 
of  course,  to  find  these  persons.  This  will  be  a  matter  of 
some  difficulty,  and  may  require  considerable  time  I  do 
not  doubt,  however,  that  I  shall  ultimately  be  able  to  accom- 
plish it.  May  I  inquire  whether  they  are  in  good  circum- 
stances pecuniarily  ?  " 

"  Probably  not.  I  presume  their  means  are  quite  lim- 
ited." 

"  So  much  the  better." 

"  For  what  reason?  "  inquired  Lewis,  in  some  curiosity. 

"  Simply  this.  You  tell  me  you  are  desirous  of  removing 
them  from  the  city ;  if  they  are  poor  it  will  be  much  easier 
to  ofler  an  inducement  likely  to  weigh  with  them,  than  if 
they  were  in  prosperous  circumstances." 

"  There  is  something  in  that,  I  admit,  but  if  Robert  is  as 
proud  as  he  used  to  be  in  days  gone  by,  such  an  attempt 
would  avail  but  little.  However,  there  is  no  occasion  to 
consider  what  further  steps  are  to  be  taken,  till  we  have  act- 
ually found  them.    That  must  be  our  first  care." 

"  In  that  I  shall  endeavor  to  serve  you.  How  and  where 
shall  I  communicate  with  you  ?  " 

"  I  shall  call  upon  you  frequently.  There  may,  however, 
be  occasions  when  it  will  be  needfiil  to  communicate  with  me 
without  delay.  In  such  an  event,  a  note  directed  to  L. 
Thornton,  Box  1228,  will  reach  me." 

Mr.  Sharp  noted  this  address  on  a  slip  of  paper,  and 
bowed  his  client  out. 

There  wiU  of  course  be  no  difficulty  in  divining  why 
Lewis  considered  it  detrimental  to  his  interests  that  Helen 
and  her  father  should  remain  in  the  city.  He  was  in  con- 
stant alarm  lest  some  accident  should  bring  together  the 
&ther  and  son,  who  had  for  so  long  a  time  been  separated 


THE  PETTIFOGGER.  3§ 

from  €ach  other.  He  was  playing  for  a  large  stake,  and  was 
not  fastidious  as  to  the  means  employed,  providt?^  they  in- 
sured  his  success.  His  visit  to  the  copyist,  and  the  bold 
forgery  perpetrated  with  his  assistance,  afforded  suflicient 
evidence  of  this.  He  was  disposed,  however,  to  use  very 
prudent  precaution.  Why  he  was  induced  to  call  in  the  co- 
operation of  a  needy,  and  well  nigh  briefless  lawyer  like 
Mr.  Sharp,  may  be  gathered  from  the  soliloquy  in  which  he 
indulged  on  leaving  the  office  of  the  worthy  attorney. 

"  There's  a  great  deal  of  humbug  about  that  fellow,"  he 
said  to  himself,  "  but  he  is  quick-witted  and  unscrupulous  — 
two  qualities  which  adapt  him  to  my  service.  Again,  he  is 
poor,  and  not  overburdened  with  business,  so  that  he  will  be 
the  more  likely  to  attach  himself  to  my  interests.  Things 
seem  to  be  in  a  fair  train.  It  is  fortunate  that  my  cousin 
does  not  know  of  his  father's  removal  to  this  city ;  he  doabt- 
less  imagines  him  a  hundred  miles  away.  It  is  indispen- 
sable that  I  should  not  show  myself  in  this  business,  but 
leaye  everything  to  Sharp.  When  the  property  is  mine,  I 
I  can  bid  my  cousin  defiance." 

The  wily  nephew  hastened  to  the  bedside  of  his  uncle, 
where,  with  feigned  solicitude,  he  inquired  after  his  health. 
It  is  well  for  our  happiness  that  we  cannot  always  read  the 
hearts  of  those  about  us.  How  hollow  and  empty  would 
then  seem  some  of  the  courtesies  of  life ! 


CHAPTER  VI. 

so  TAB,   SO   GOOD. 

Lewis  Eand  had  displayed  Ms  usual  sagacity  in  selecting 
Mr.  Sharp  as  his  agent  in  the  affair  which  now  occupied  so 
large  a  share  of  his  attention.  The  worthy  attorney  was 
not  particularly  scrupulous,  and  the  thought  that  he  was 
lending  his  aid  to  defraud,  did  not  have  the  least  effect  in 
disturbing  Mr.  Sharp's  tranquillity.  Indeed,  he  considered 
it  a  stroke  of  remarkably  good  luck  that  he  should  have 
secured  so  promisiug  a  client,  through  whom  his  rather  lim- 
ited income  was  likely  to  receive  so  important  an  accession. 
To  do  him  justice  he  intended  to  devote  his  best  exertions 
to  the  case  now  in  his  hands,  and  insure  the  success  of  his 
client  if  it  could  in  any  manner  be  compassed. 

For  several  evenings  subsequent  to  the  interview  described 
in  the  last  chapter,  Mr.  Sharp  found  it  convenient  to  walk 
for  an  hour  or  more  towards  the  close  of  the  afternoon. 
Singular^  enough  he  never  varied  his  promenade,  always 
selecting  the  neighborhood  of  the  Park.  It  was  his  custom 
to  walk  slowly  up  and  down,  attentively  scanning  the  differ- 
ent groups  that  passed  under  his  eye.  But  among  the  thou- 
sands who  passed  him,  he  could  for  some  time  discover  none 
that  resembled  the  description  furnished  by  his  client. 

It  chanced  that  Helen  and  her  father  had  suspended  their 
walks  for  a  few  days,  in  consequence  of  a  slight  indisposition 
on  the  part  of  the  latter.  This,  however,  Mr.  Sharp  could 
not  be  expected  to  know.  His  hopes  of  ultimate  success 
diminished,  and  although  he  continued  his  daily  walks,  he 

40 


80  FAB^   SO  GOOD.  41 

began  to  be  apprehensive  that  they  would  result  in  nothing. 
But  one  evening  as  he  was  glancing  restlessly  about  him,  his 
eye  fell  upon  a  plainly-dressed  man,  above  the  middle 
height,  but  stooping,  walking  hand  in  hand  with  a  young 
girl.  Their  ages  seemed  to  correspond  with  those  given  by 
Lewis  Kand. 

The  thought  flashed  upon  Mr.  Sharp  that  these  might  be 
the  two  persons  of  whom  he  was  in  search.  Judging  that 
they  might  let  fall  something  in  their  conversation  which 
would  decide  the  matter,  he  followed  closely  behind  them. 
But  unluckily  for  the  lawyer*s  purpose,  Mr.  Ford  was  in  one 
of  his  not  uncommon  fits  of  abstraction,  and  maintained  an 
unbroken  silence, 

Mr.  Sharp  pondered,  and  set  his  wits  to  work  to  devise 
some  method  by  which  he  could  gain  the  information  he  de- 
sired. At  length  it  occurred  to  him  that  the  little  girFs 
name  was  Helen,  and  this  might  help  to  identify  her. 

After  a  while  Helen  and  her  .father  slackened  their  pace. 
Mr.  Sharp  took  up  a  position  behind  them.  Assuming  an 
air  of  unconcern,  he  pronounced,  in  a  low  tone,  the  word 
"  Helen,"  at  the  same  time  slipping  dexterously  behind  an 
old  gentleman  of  somewhat  aldermanic  proportions  who  had 
just  come  up. 

On  hearing  her  name  pronounced,  Helen  turned  quickly 
around  as  Mr.  Sharp  had  anticipated.  Her  eyes  rested  on 
the  grave  features  of  the  respectable  old  gentleman  before 
alluded  to.  He  was  not  even  looking  at  her.  Evidently  it 
could  not  be  he.  She  did  not  observe  the  somewhat  flashily 
attired  gentleman  behind,  whose  red  locks  contrasted  so 
vividly  with  the  grayish  white  hat  somewhat  jauntily  perched 
on  the  side  of  his  head.  Supposing,  therefore,  that  her  ears 
must  have  deceived  her,  she  turned  away.  Her  sudden 
movement,  however,  had  not  been  unobserved  by  the  watcb- 
ftil  eyes  of  the  lawyer. 

4* 


49  HELEN    FORD. 

"  That  must  be  she,"  he  said  to  himself.  "  She  would 
scarcely  have  turned  round  so  quickly  on  hearing  any  other 
name  than  her  own.  That's  the  first  link  in  the  chain,  Sharp. 
You've  got  a  little  to  build  upon  now.  Now  we'll  see  how 
well  you  will  succeed  in  following  it  up." 

Mr.  Sharp  was  in  the  habit  of  apostrophizing  himself  in 
such  familiar  terms  as  "  old  fellow,"  and  would  indulge  in 
commendations,  or  otherwise,  of  his  conduct,  as  if  of  a  second 
person. 

When  Helen  and  her  father  left  the  spot,  they  were  fol- 
lowed at  a  little  distance  by  the  lawyer,  whose  object  of 
course,  was  to  ascertain  where  they  lived.  His  curiosity  was 
gratified.  Helen  entered  Mother  Morton's  boarding-house, 
quite  unconscious  that  she  had  been  followed.  A  rapid 
glance  satisfied  Mr.  Sharp  of  the  name  and  number  which 
were  at  once  transferred  to  his  note-book. 

"  So  far,  so  good,"  thought  he,  with  inward  satisfaction. 
"  I  must  inform  my  client  forthwith,  and  then  we  can  decide 
upon  further  steps." 

So  elated  was  Mr.  Sharp  by  the  discovery  that  he  had 
made,  that  he  stepped  into  a  saloon  on  Broadway,  and  in- 
dulged in  potations  so  very  generous,  that  he  narrowly 
escaped  arrest  by  a  policeman  on  the  way  home. 

Helen,  meanwhile,  was  becoming  daily  more  and  more 
troubled  in  mind.  Her  father  was  so  wrapped  up  in  his  model 
that  he  could  think  of  nothing  else.  To  her,  accordingly,  had 
been  committed  the  common  purse,  and  upon  her  had  de- 
volved the  duty  of  providing  for  their  daily  wants,  as  well 
as  discharging  the  rent  which  was  due  once  in  four  weeks. 
She  therefore  knew  more  of  their  pecuniary  condition  than 
her  father.  She  had  been  repeatedly  alarmed  at  the  rapid 
diminution  of  the  funds  placed  in  her  hands,  and  this,  not- 
withstanding she  exercised  the  strictest  economy  in  all  their 
expenses.    For  some  time,  as  we  have  seen,  she  had  eked 


so  FAR,   SO   GOOD.  48 

oat  their  scanty  means  by  working  for  the  slop-shops.  Now, 
however,  there  was  a  lull  in  the  clothing  business,  and  this 
resource  was  temporarily  cut  off.  How  heavily  upon  the 
young  and  inexperienced  falls  the  burden  of  pecuniary 
trouble !  Helen  saw  with  a  feeling  of  dismay  that  a  few 
weeks  would  find  their  means  exhausted.  What  would  be- 
come of  them  then,  she  did  not  dare  to  think.  K  only  her 
father's  invention  could  be  completed  before  that  time,  she 
thought,  in  her  simplicity,  that  all  would  be  well.  Of  the  long 
years  before  even  a  successful  invention  can  be  made  profita- 
ble, she  knew  nothing.  She  trusted  implicitly  to  her  father's 
confident  assurances,  and  never  doubted  that  some  time 
they  would  become  rich  through  his  discovery.  This  consid- 
eration, however,  did  not  afford  her  present  relief.  Although 
her  father  labored  assiduously,  it  did  not  appear  to  her  un- 
practised eye  that  he  was  any  r^earer  the  end  than  he  had 
been  six  months  before.  Confident  as  she  was  of  his  final 
success,  the  question  how  they  should  live  in  the  mean  time 
assumed  grave  importance,  and  occasioned  her  not  a  little 
perplexity. 

K  Helen  could  have  shared  her  doubts  and  anxieties  with 
some  one  who  might  have  sympathized  with  her,  she  would 
have  felt  less  troubled.  But  there  seemed  to  be  no  one  to 
whom  she  could  speak  freely.  She  was  only  too  anxious  to 
keep  it  from  her  father,  who,  she  felt  instinctively,  could 
give  her  little  or  no  assistance.  She  thought  of  speaking  to 
Mrs.  Morton,  but  the  fear  lest,  if  she  should  acknowledge 
her  poverty,  the  latter  might  be  unwilling  to  allow  them  to 
retain  their  room  any  longer,  restrained  her. 

"We  have  before  mentioned  the  humble  seamstress,  Martha 
Grey,  who  occupied  the  room  beneath  that  of  Mr.  Ford. 
Though  plain  in  appearance,  and  of  quiet  demeanor,  Helen 
had  been  attracted  by  the  expression  of  goodness  which 
lighted  up  her  face.     Sometimes,  when  her  father  seemed 


44  HELEN    FOBB. 

wholly  immersed  in  his  labors,  she  would  steal  down  stairs 
and  spend  a  quiet  hour  in  Martha's  company. 

On  one  of  these  occasions  Martha  had  a  visitor.  Although 
introduced  as  a  cousin,  one  could  scarcely  imagine  a  greater 
ccntrast  than  existed  between  her  and  Martha.  Her  dress 
was  more  showy  than  tasteful,  and  evidently  occupied  a 
large  share  of  her  attention.  She  was  employed  in  a  milli- 
nery establishment  where  she  earned  good  wages,  —  twice  as 
much  as  Martha,  ■ — but  saved  nothtug,  expending  everything 
upon  personal  adornment.  She  lacked  entirely  the  refine- 
ment and  quiet  dignity  of  her  cousin.  In  spite  of  her  humble 
circumstances,  Martha  would  have  been  recognized  by  any 
one  possessing  discernment  as  a  lady.  Her  cousin,  in  spite 
of  her  dress,  was  never  iu  any  danger  of  being  mistaken  for 
one.  Her  manner  towards  Martha,  however,  was  a  patron- 
izing one,  and  she  evidently  considered  herself  as  occupying 
a  much  higher  position  than  the  seamstress. 

"  I  am  astonished,  Martha,"  said  she,  glancing  contempt^ 
uously  at  the  plain  room,  and  plainer  furniture,  "that  you 
should  be  willing  to  live  in  such  a  hole.  I  believe  if  I  was 
cooped  up  here  I  should  die  of  loneliness  in  less  than  a  week." 

"  I  find  it  very  comfortable,"  said  Martha,  composedly. 

"  Yes,  I  suppose  it  will  do.  It  will  keep  out  the  rain  and 
wind,  and  is  better  than  nothing,  of  course.  But  I  want 
something  better  than  that." 

"I  am  very  well  contented,"  said  Martha,  "  and  even  if  I 
were  not,  I  could  afford  no  better." 

"  Do  you  stay  here  all  the  time?  Don't  you  ever  go  to 
concerts  or  the  theatre  ?  " 

"No." 

"  What  a  humdrum  life  you  must  lead  I  It's  Wednesday 
afternoon.  Suppose  we  go  to  the  theatre.  There's  going  to 
be  a  splendid  play." 

Martha  hesitated. 


so  FAB,   SO   GOOD.  45 

There  is  so  little  to  excite  or  interest  in  the  monotonous 
life  of  a  hard-working  seamstress,  that  she  really  longed  to 
throw  aside  the  needle,  and  accept  her  cousin*s  invitation. 

"I  should  like  to  go,"  she  said  at  length,  "but  I  am 
afraid  I  ought  not  to  spend  either  the  time  or  the  money." 

"  Then  I'll  make  you  a  fair  offer.  K  you'll  spare  the  time, 
ril  spare  the  money.  I'll  buy  the  tickets.  Won't  you  go, 
too?  "  she  continued,  turning  to  Helen.    "  I'll  pay  for  you." 

Helen  looked  at  Martha  who  nodded  kindly,  and  said, 
"  Did  you  ever  go  to  the  theatre,  Helen  1 " 

"  No,  Martha." 

"  Then  you  had  better  come.  You  can  come  back  with 
me." 

"  Thank  you,"  said  Helen.    I  will  see  if  father  needs  me." 

She  hastened  up  stairs,  but  found  that  her  father,  absorbed 
in  his  engrossing  employment,  had  not  even  been  aware  of 
her  absence. 

"  Do  you  think  you  can  spare  me  for  two  or  three  hours, 
papa?"  she  asked.    "  I  have  been  invited  to  go  out." 

She  had  to  repeat  the  question  before  her  father  compre- 
hended. 

"  Go,  by  all  means,  my  dear  child,"  he  answered.    "  I  am 

afraid  you  confine  yourself  too  much  on  my  account." 

Helen  was  soon  ready.  She  went  out  with  Martha  Grey 
and  her  cousin,  and  a  few  minutes  found  them  standing  be- 
fore a  large  building  with  a  spacious  entrance. 

"  This  is  the  theatre,"  said  Martha,  addressing  herself  to 
Helen. 

Helen  little  thought  of  the  consequences  that  were  to  fol- 
low this — her  first  entrance  within  the  walls  of  a  theatre. 


CHAPTER  Vn. 

A   NEW   TALENT. 

Seated  in  the  theatre,  Helen  looked  about  her  in  bewil- 
derment. She  had  never  been  within  the  walls  of  a  theatre. 
In  the  street  the  sun  shone  brightly.  Here  the  sun  was  rig- 
orously excluded,  and  gas  took  its  place.  It  seemed  to  t2ie 
unsophisticated  child  like  a  sudden  leap  from  noon  to  night. 
She  could  hear  the  rumbling  of  vehicles  in  the  streets,  but  it 
appeared  to  her,  somehow,  as  if  they  were  far  away,  and 
that  she  had  come  into  a  different  world.  She  wondered 
what  there  was  behind  that  broad  green  curtain  in  front,  and 
why  the  lights  should  be  arranged  so  oddly  at  the  foot  of  it. 

"  Lor%  child,  that's  the  stage,"  was  the  lucid  explanation 
of  Martha's  cousin,  to  whom  she  applied  for  information. 
"  Haven't  you  ever  been  to  the  theatre  before  ?  " 

"  No,  never,"  said  Helen. 

The  cousin  looked  at  her  with  some  curiosity,  as  if  there 
must  be  something  out  of  the  common  way  about  a  person 
who  had  never  been  to  the  theatre,  and  expressed  her  decid- 
ed conviction  that  Helen's  education  had  been  shockingly 
neglected. 

"  Why,"  said  she,  "  before  I  was  half  as  high  as  you,  I 
had  been  to  the  theatre  ever  so  many  times." 

She  spoke  with  so  much  complacency  that  Helen  imagined 
she  must  be  a  very  superior  person,  and  possessed  great 
knowledge  of  the  world. 

Wliile  these  and  other  thoughts  were  passing  through  her 
mind,  the  bell  rang  twice,  and  then  the  curtain  rose. 

46 


A  NEW  TALEKT.  47 

Helen  nearly  uttered  an  exclamation  of  surprise,  so  unpre- 
pared was  she  for  the  spectacle  which  was  presented  to  her 
dazzled  gaze.  The  play  was  a  fairy  extravaganza,  which 
depended  for  its  success  chiefly  upon  scenery  and  stage 
effect.  In  the  first  scene  was  represented  the  palace  cf  the 
Queen  of  the  fairies,  crowning  the  summit  of  a  hill,  rising 
in  the  centre  of  a  beautiful  island.  Above  floated  fleecy 
clouds,  from  a  break  in  which  streamed  the  sunshine,  lend- 
ing its  glory  to  the  scene. 

In  the  foreground  stood  a  circle  of  children  about  Helen's 
age  or  younger,  who  figured  as  sylphs.  With  united  voices 
they  sang  a  song  in  honor  of  the  Queen  of  the  fairies,  who 
directly  afterwards  was  seen  floating  through  the  air  above 
the  stage,  arrayed  in  such  style  as  seemed  befitting  her  illus- 
trious rank. 

So  complete  was  the  illusion  to  Helen,  that  she  gazed  with 
suspended  breath  and  a  feeling,  half  of  awe,  as  if  the  scene 
she  looked  upon  was  really  one  of  enchantment. 

"  Is  she  really  a  fairy  ?  "  she  asked  of  Martha's  cousin. 

"  No,  child,  of  course  not.  It's  Henrietta  Blake.  Fve 
seen  her  in  the  street  many  a  time.  Once  I  was  introduced 
to  her." 

"What  a  beautiful  creature  she  must  be  I"  said  Helen, 
admiringly. 

"  Beautiful  I  "  repeated  the  cousin,  with  some  disdain, 
"  For  my  part,  I  don't  think  she's  anything  to  boast  of  in 
that  line.  Just  notice  what  a  poor  complexion  she  has. 
You'd  see  it  if  it  wasn't  for  the  paint.  You  wouldn't  have 
thought  her  very  fairy-like  if  you  had  seen  her  in  at  Taylor's 
the  other  evening,  eating  oysters." 

Helen  could  scarcely  believe  her  ears.  It  seemed  to  be 
almost  like  sacrilege  to  associate  such  a  gross  idea  with  the 
etherial  being  that  floated  before  her  in  all  the  majestic 
beauty  of  a  fairy  queen.    It  took  from  the  scene  before  her 


48  HELEN   FOBD. 

something  of  the  charm  with  which  her  fancy  had  invested 
it.  Still  it  was  with  a  feeling  of  intense  enjoyment  that  she 
followed  the  play  to  its  conclusion,  watching  scene  after 
scene  pass  before  her,  and  the  music  was  truly  enchanting. 

At  length  the  play  was  finished,  and  the  curtain  dropped. 
This,  however,  did  not  conclude  the  performance.  After  a 
short  pause  the  curtain  rose  once  more,  and  a  young  girl 
came  forward  and  sang  the  well-known  little  Seotch  song, 
"  Comin'  thro'  the  Rye.'*  It  was  sung  correctly  and  in  good 
taste,  but  with  no  remarkable  display  of  power.  Still  it  was 
vociferously  encored,  and,  on  its  repetition,  was  applauded 
warmly. 

There  was  an  afterpiece,  but,  as  it  was  already  late  in  the 
afternoon,  Martha  and  her  cousin  decided  not  to  remain. 

"  Well,  how  did  you  like  it?  "  asked  the  cousin,  patroniz- 
ingly. 

"  Oh,  it  was  beautiful  I "  exclaimed  Helen,  enthusiastically. 
"  I  am  so  much  obliged  to  you  for  taking  me." 

"  They  have  better  plays  sometimes,"  returned  the  cousin, 
with  an  air  of  superior  knowledge  of  the  world.  "  I  didn't 
think  much  of  the  acting  to-day,  for  my  part.  I'll  take  you 
again  some  time  when  they've  got  something  else." 

Even  after  she  was  fairly  in  the  street,  Helen  found  it  dif- 
ficult to  throw  off  the  illusion  of  the  stage.  She  could  still 
see  in  imagination  the  gorgeous  spectacle,  the  splendid 
fairy  palace,  the  graceful  sylphs,  and  the  queen  in  her  regal 
magnificence.  She  was  so  entirely  under  the  dominion  of 
fancy  that  to  her  the  outer  world  seemed  unreal,  and  that 
which  she  had  seen,  the  real.  She  walked  on,  heeding 
little,  till  she  was  suddenly  roused  from  her  reverie  in  a  very 
forcible  manner,  by  coming  in  collision  with  some  person. 
It  proved  to  be  a  very  fat  old  lady,  who  was  walking,  oi 
rather  waddling,  slowly  along  the  sidewalk,  with  her  head 
thrown  back.    At  the  unexpected  collision,  she  screamed. 


▲  HEW  TALENT.  49 

and  gasped  for  breath,  eyeing  Helen,  meanwhile,  with  no 
very  amiable  expression  of  countenance. 

"  You've  just  about  beaten  the  breath  out  of  my  body, 
you  young  troUop.  Where  was  you  brought  up,  I'd  like  to 
know,  not  to  have  any  better  manners  ?  " 

"I  hope  you'll  excuse  me,"  said  Helen,  humbly,  some- 
what ashamed  of  her  preoccupation.  "  I  didn't  mean  to  run 
against  you." 

"  Don't  tell  me,"  said  the  irritated  old  lady.  "  You  did 
it  a  purpose.    I  know  you  did." 

"  She  might  as  well  say  you  ran  into  her  on  purpose," 
retorted  Martha's  cousin. 

"  I  didn't  speak  to  you,  ma'am,"  said  the  exasperated  old 
lady.  "  It's  my  belief  that  you're  all  in  league  together, 
and  I've  a  great  mind  to  have  you  given  in  charge  of  the 
police." 

"  Indeed  I  "  said  the  cousin,  ironically. 

"  Come  away,"  said  Martha,  in  a  low  voice.  "  Don't  let 
us  have  a  scene  here." 

As  quickly  as  possible  they  escaped  from  the  irate  old 
lady.  She  stood  panting  for  breath,  and  glaring  at  them 
Dver  the  rims  of  her  glasses,  which  had  been  accidentally 
misplaced.  This  encounter,  ludicrous  as  it  was,  served  to 
bring  Helen  back  from  the  ideal  world  to  the  real,  and  with- 
out any  further  adventures  she  reached  home. 

It  was  already  time  to  prepare  their  frugal  meal.  She 
found  her  father  as  busily  occupied  as  ever.  She  was  glad 
of  this,  for  it  showed  that  her  presence  had  not  been  missed. 

The  next  day  Martha  Grey  was  at  work  harder  than  ever. 
She  fe-t  that  she  must  make  up  by  extra  exertion  for  the 
unwonted  relaxation  of  the  day  before. 

"  What  are  you  tlunking  of,  Martha?"  asked  Helen, play- 

fblly,  as  she  stole  in  unperceived,  and  placed  her  hands 

f 


60  HELEN    FORD. 

over  the  eyes  of  the  seamstress.  "  Come,  tell  me  before  I 
take  my  hands  away." 

"I  was  thinMng,"  said  Martha,  "that  I  should  like  to 
hear  once  more  the  song  that  was  sung  at  the  theatre  yes- 
terday." 

"  You  enjoyed  it,  then?  " 

"  Very  much." 

"  Shall  I  sing  it  to  you?  "  asked  Helen,  quietly. 

"You,  Helen?"  asked  Martha,  lifting  up  her  eyes  in 
astonishment.     "  Can  you  sing?    I  never  heard  you." 

"  I  do  not  sing  very  often,"  said  Helen,  sadly.  "  My 
mother  taught  me,  and  whenever  I  sing  it  brings  up  thoughts 
of  her." 

"  I  should  like  very  much  to  hear  you  sing,  Helen,"  said 
Martha ;  "  but  do  not  do  it  if  it  wiU  make  you  sad." 

"  Never  mind,  Martha.  I  will  sing,  if  it  will  give  you 
pleasure." 

Helen  commenced  the  song,  and  sang  it  to  the  end  in  a 
voice  of  remarkable  richness  and  power.  She  was  gifted 
with  a  voice  of  extraordinary  flexibility  and  compass,  whose 
natural  power  had  evidently  been  improved  by  cultivation. 
Martha,  who,  though  no  singer  herself,  was  very  fond  of  lis- 
tening to  music,  and  could  judge  when  it  had  merit,  listened 
with  unaffected  astonishment  and  delight.  She  felt  that  she 
had  never  heard  a  voice  of  equal  sweetness  and  power. 

"  You  have  a  beautiful  voice,"  she  said,  when  Helen  haci 
finished  the  song.  "  You  sang  it  much  better  than  it  was 
sung  at  the  theatre  yesterday.  Some  day  you  may  become 
a  great  singer." 

"  Do  you  really  think  so?"  asked  Helen,  her  eyes  spark- 
ling with  delight.     "  I  am  very  glad." 

Martha  looked  up  in  some  surprise,  not  understanding 
why  it  was  that  Helen  felt  so  much  pleased.  But  a  new 
thought  had  come  to  the  child. 


A  NEW  TALENT.  5i 

"Is  there  anything  else  you  would  like  to  hear?"  she 
asked. 

"  I  should  like  to  hear  '  Home,  Sweet  Home.' " 

It  was  a  song  which  Helen  had  often  sung,  and  to  which 
she  could  do  full  justice.  It  was  not  difficult  to  account  for 
the  feeling  which  led  Martha  Grey  to  make  choice  of  this 
song.  She  was  one  of  a  large  family,  who  had  never  known 
sorrow  or  separation  till  the  death  of  her  parents,  following 
each  other  in  quick  succession,  turned  them  all  adi-ift  upon 
the  world. 

As  the  song  proceeded,  Martha  called  up  in  fancy  the 
humble  farm-house  among  the  New  Hampshire  hills,  with  its 
comfortable  bam  and  well-tilled  acres  around  it.  She 
recalled  the  broad,  low  kitchen,  with  its  large  fireplace  and 
blazing  back-log,  around  which  the  family  was  wont  to 
gather  in  the  cheerful  winter  evenings.  She  recalled  her 
little  sister  Ruth,  who  was  about  the  age  of  Helen  when 
their  home  was  broken  up,  but  whom  she  had  not  seen  since, 
Ruth  having  been  placed  in  the  family  of  an  uncle.  She 
recalled  her  happy  school-days,  her  school  companions,  and, 
above  all,  her  father  and  mother,  who  had  never  been  other- 
wise than  kind  to  her,  and  then  looked  about  the  small  and 
desolate  room  which  she  now  called  home.  She  could  not 
help  contrasting  her  present  lonely  position  with  what  it  had 
been  when  she  was  at  home  in  the  midst  of  her  family,  and 
as  the  last  strain  died  away  upon  Helen's  lips,  she  burst  into 
tears. 

Helen  looked  up  in  sui*pi:ise  at  this  unwonted  display  of 
emotion  on  the  part  of  one,  usually  so  quiet  and  composed  as 
Martha  Grey. 

"  Don't  mind  me,  Helen,"  said  Martha,  through  her  tears, 
"  It  came  over  me,  and  I  couldn't  help  it.  Some  time,  per- 
haps, I  will  tell  you  why  it  is  that  that  song  always  makes 
me  shed  tears." 


CHAPTER  Vin. 


SUNDA-T  AND  TRINITT  CHURCH. 


It  was  Sunday  morning.  To  thousands  of  frames,  "wearied 
by  exhausting  labors,  it  brought  the  benediction  of  rest.  To 
thousands  of  throbbing  brains  it  brought  grateful  relaxation. 
The  great  business  thoroughfares  wear  a  Sunday  look.  The 
shops  are  closed,  and  no  longer  hold  out,  through  showily- 
arranged  windows,  invitations  to  enter.  The  bells  in  a 
hundred  steeples  ring  out  in  many  voices  the  summons  to 
worship. 

Helen  tapped  gently  at  Martha's  door. 

"  Where  do  you  attend  church? "  she  inquired. 

"  I  was  just  going  to  call  for  you,  Helen,"  said  the  seam- 
stress, "  to  ask  if  you  and  your  father  wouldn't  like  to  at- 
tend  Trinity  Chrn-ch  with  me." 

Helen  hesitated  a  little. 

"  That  is  the  great  church  at  the  lower  end  of  Broadway, 
isn't  it  ?  "  she  inquired. 

"Yes." 

"  I  thought  it  might  be  a  fashionable  church.  Father  and 
I  have  been  to  one  or  two  of  the  great  churches,  where  the 
sexton  didn't  seem  to  care  about  giving  us  seats,  but  finally 
put  us  away  back  where  we  found  it  diflScult  to  hear  the 
service." 

"  I  have  had  the  same  experience  more  than  once,"  said 
Martha;  "but  we  shall  have  no  such  trouble  at  Trinity. 
Though  one  of  the  finest  churches  in  the  city,  it  is  free  to 
all,  and  the  poor  are  as  welcome  as  the  rich." 


SUNDAY  Ain>  TRINITT  CHURCH.  53 

"  Then  I  shall  be  glad  to  go,  and  so  will  papa.  Wait  a 
moment,  and  I  will  tell  him." 

They  were  soon  in  the  street,  mingling  with  the  well- 
dressed  crowds,  wending  their  way  to  their  respective 
houses  of  worship. 

"  Sunday  was  always  pleasant  to  me,"  said  Martha,  "  even 
as  a  child.  I  remember  the  plain  old  meeting-house,  where 
we  all  sat  in  square,  high-backed  pews,  listening  to  the  good 
old  mioister  who  is  gone  now  to  his  rest  and  his  reward. 
There  have  been  great  changes  siuce  then,"  and  she  sighed 
sadly. 

A  short  walk  brought  them  to  the  church  portals.  They 
were  early,  and  obtained  excellent  seats.  The  organist  was 
already  playing.  Helen's  face  lit  with  pleasure,  for  she  had 
never  before  heard  so  fine  an  instrument  or  so  skilful  a 
player.  Exquisitely  fitted  by  nature  for  receiving  musical 
impressions,  she  felt  her  soul  uplifted  by  the  grandeur  of  the 
music,  and  her  heart  penetrated  by  its  sweetness.  Now 
there  was  a  thunderous  clang,  as  if  the  organist  were  seek- 
ing to  evoke  from  the  instrument  a  f  tting  tribute  to  the 
majesty  and  power  of  the  Creator.  It  seemed  as  if  hosts 
of  angels  were  clashing  their  cymbals,  and  singing  God's 
high  praise.  Now  a  delicate  rill  of  silver-voiced  melody 
trickled  forth,  clear  and  sweet,  interpreting  the  unfathomable 
love  wherewith  God  loves  his  children,  even  the  lowliest. 

Helen  listened  as  one  entranced,  and  when  the  last  strain 
died  away,  and  the  organ  was  still,  she  turned  towards  Mar- 
tha, and  whispered,  for  she  could  not  keep  silence,  "  It  lifts 
me  up.    It  almost  seems  as  if  I  were  in  heaven." 

Unconsciously  Helen  expressed  the  same  feeling  which 
Milton  has  embodied  in  fitting  lines,  — 


"  But  let  my  due  feet  nerer  fell 
To  walk  the  studious  cloisters  p«l«, 
6* 


§4  HELEN    FORD. 

A.nd  love  the  high  embowered  roof 

With  antique  pillars  massy  proof, 

And  storied  windows  richly  dight 

Casting  a  dim  religious  light; 

There  let  the  pealing  organ  blow 

To  the  full-voiced  choir  below 

In  service  high  and  anthem  clear, 

As  may  with  sweetness  through  mine  ear 

Dissolve  me  into  ecstasies 

And  bring  all  heaven  before  mine  eyea.^ 

It  is  a  mistake  to  suppose  that  the  plainest  and  cheapest 
churches  are  good  enough  for  the  poor.  Europe  is  far  more 
democratic  in  matters  of  religion  than  America.  In  the 
great  continental  cathedrals  I  have  more  than  once  felt 
inexpressibly  touched  to  behold  at  my  side  some  child  of 
poverty  and  misfortune  bending  a  reverent  gaze  upon  some 
imaged  saint.  I  have  pictured  to  myself  his  probable  home 
in  some  filthy  court  or  dingy  alley,  with  the  light  of  heaven 
shut  out,  dark,  forbidding  and  noisome,  and  rejoiced  to  think 
that  it  was  his  privilege  to  pass  from  such  a  scene  into  the 
splendors  that  fitly  adorn  the  house  of  God.  It  is  something 
to  shed  a  ray  of  sunlight  upon  the  life  of  a  poor  man  —  to 
gratify  his  taste,  mortified  by  the  gloomy  surroundings  of 
his  daily  life,  to  nourish  the  little  flower  of  sentiment  strug- 
gling out  of  the  rubbish  that  has  well-nigh  choked  out  his 
aesthetic  nature,  and  help  him  to  feel  that  life  has  a  beautiful 
side,  from  which  he  is  not  utterly  shut  out. 

So  Helen  and  the  poor  seamstress,  confined  through  the 
week  in  poor  and  unattractive  chambers,  felt  a  quiet  satisfac- 
tion in  the  grand  architectural  proportions  and  solemn  beauty 
of  the  great  church  in  which  they  felt  themselves  welcome 
guests.  They  derived  new  strength  for  the  plaia  and  hum- 
ble duties  of  every  day  in  the  thought  that  one  day  in  seven 
they  could  escape  into  a  loftier  atmosphere,  and  feel  God's 
presence  nearer. 

Occasionally,  as  the  service  proceeded,  Helen  stole  a 


SUNDAY  AND  TRINITT  CHURCH.  55 

glance  at  her  father,  who  sat  beside  her.  His  face  wore  a 
look  of  cahn  enjoyment  and  intelligent  appreciation. 

As  he  sat  with  his  clasped  hands  resting  on  his  knees,  and 
his  eyes  fixed  upon  the  preacher,  the  vanished  years  re- 
turned, and  beside  him  there  sat  once  more  the  fair  young 
bride,  whose  pure  and  saintly  image  lived  a  hallowed  re- 
membrance in  the  heart  of  father  and  daughter  alike. 

When  the  service  closed,  he  did  not  change  his  position, 
till  Helen,  touching  him  gently,  said,  "It  is  time  to  go, 
papa." 

'*  We  will  come  again  next  Sunday,  Helen,"  he  said. 

"  Yes,  papa." 

They  walked  back  slowly  and  thoughtfully  to  their  hum- 
ble homes,  speaking  little,  but  each  more  happy  and  peace- 
fill  for  the  hour  passed  in  the  great  church  whose  lofty  spire 
seemed  ever  pointing  upwards  to  that  God  in  whose  service 
it  was  reared. 


CHAPTER  IX. 

THE  lawyer's  progress. 

The  day  after  his  meeting  with  Helen  and  her  father,  the 
worthy  attorney,  Mr.  Sharp,  took  his  way.  leisurely  to  the 
boarding-house  of  I^Irs.  Morton.  Although  the  object  of  his 
visit  was  clearly  defined  to  his  own  mind,  he  scarcely  knew 
in  what  manner  he  might  best  attain  it.  But  Mr.  Sharp  was 
not  a  man  to  be  abashed  or  daunted  by  small  difficulties. 
Trusting,  therefore,  to  what  chance  and  the  inspiration  of 
the  moment  might  suggest,  he  mounted  the  steps  and  rang 
the  bell. 

"  Mrs.  Morton,  I  presume,"  he  remarked,  with  great  aflEsr 
bility,  as  that  lady  opened  the  door  in  person. 

"  You  are  quite  right,  sir." 

"  I  believe,"  he  remarked  with  suavity,  "  that  I  am  cor- 
rect in  the  supposition  that  you  take  boarders." 

"  I  wonder  what  he's  aiming  at,"  thought  Mother  Morton, 
glancing  with  something  of  suspicion  at  the  white  hat  set 
Jauntily  on  one  side  of  his  head.  "  I  hope  he  won't  apply 
for  board.  I  am  always  suspicious  of  those  who  are  so 
smooth-tongued." 

"  Yes,  sir,"  she  said  aloud,  "  I  do  take  boarders,  but  I  am 
ftiU  now." 

"  Indeed  I  "  said  Mr.  Sharp,  with  a  benignant  smile,  "  I 
am  delighted  to  hear  of  your  prosperity.  I  was  not,  how- 
ever, thinking  of  making  an  application  for  board  in  my  own 
behalf,  though  I  should  undoubtedly  esteem  it  a  high  privi- 
to  be  an  inmate  of  a  boarding-house  which  I  am  confi- 


niB  LAWYER'S   FROQRESS.  57 

dent  is  so  admirably  conducted.  Will  you  have  the  good- 
ness to  tell  me  whether  you  have  a  boarder  or  lodger  named 
Dupont?'* 

It  is  scarcely  necessary  to  explain  that  this  inquiry  was 
employed  by  Mr.  Sharp  as  a  plausible  method  of  accounting 
for  his  calling,  and  to  pave  the  way  for  something  else.  He 
had  no  particular  choice  in  the  name,  but  thought  Dupont 
would  be  as  uncommon  as  any. 

"  Yes,"  was  the  unexpected  reply  of  IMrs.  Morton,  "  we 
have  a  lodger  of  that  name.  I  believe  he  is  in.  Will  you 
step  in  and  see  him,  sir?  " 

Unprepared  for  this  answer,  Mr.  Sharp  was  for  the  mo- 
ment undecided  how  to  act.  Being  sufficiently  quick-witted, 
however,  he  soon  devised  a  way  to  extricate  himself  &om 
his  embarrassment. 

"  Poor  man ! "  said  he  with  a  gentle  sigh ;  he's  much  to 
be  pitied." 

"  Pitied  I "  echoed  the  landlady,  opening  wide  her  eyes  in 
astonishment.     "  Why  ?  " 

"  To  a  sensitive  mind,"  continued  3Ir.  Sharp,  in  a  tone  of 
mild  pathos,  "  bodily  deformity  must  be  a  great  drawback  to 
one's  comfort  and  happiness." 

"  Deformity ! "  repeated  the  landlady  in  increased  sur- 
prise. 

"  Yes,  Mr.  Dupont  is  a  humpback,  is  he  not?  " 

"  A  humpback ! "  returned  Mrs.  Morton,  in  a  tone  of  some 
asperity.  "  You  are  quite  mistaken,  sir ;  I  have  no  hump- 
back among  my  boarders." 

"  Then  it  cannot  be  the  man  I  mean,"  said  the  lawyer,  re- 
joiced to  have  got  out  of  the  scrape  so  cleverly.  "  I  beg 
ten  thousand  pardons  for  having  put  you  to  so  much  trouble. 

"  No  trouble,  sir,"  was  the  civil  reply. 

Mrs.  Morton  held  the  door,  wondering  why  the  visitor 
still  remained,  now  that  his  errand  was  accomplished.    The 


58  H£J;EN    FOBrr. 

lawyer's  purpose,  however,  still  remained  to  "be  effected.  He 
was  even  now  cudgelling  his  brains  to  devise  a  method  of 
reaching  i:. 

"  A  moment  more,"  he  said,  with  suavity.  "  I  think,  as  I 
passed  last  evening,  that  I  saw  a  little  girl  enter  with  an 
elderly  gentleman." 

"Helen  Ford?" 

"  Oh,  yes.     She  boards  with  you,  does  she  not?" 

"  Helen  and  her  father  have  a  room  up  stairs.  They  board 
themselves.    I  only  lodge  them." 

"Pardon  my  curiosity,  but  I  have  an  object  in  view. 
What  is  her  father's  occupation?  " 

"He  is  busy  about  some  invention,  and  has  been  ever 
since  he  came  here.    A  flying  machine,  I  believe." 

"  Ah,  yes,"  said  the  lawyer,  to  whom  this  was  all  new. 
"  It  is  as  I  supposed.  Can  I  see  them  ?  I  picked  up  a  small 
purse,"  he  added,  by  way  of  explanation,  "just  after  they 
passed  me  in  the  street,  and  I  thought  it  not  unlikely  that 
the  young  lady  might  have  dropped  it." 

"  Certainly,"  said  the  landlady,  somewhat  more  favorably 
disposed  to  Mr.  Sharp,  in  consequence  of  this  evidence  of 
his  integrity.  "  Their  room  is  on  the  fourth  floor,  at  the 
head  of  the  stairs.  Perhaps  I  had  better  go  up  and  show 
fou." 

"  Oh,  by  no  means,  madam,  by  no  means,"  said  the  law- 
yer, politely.  "  I  know  the  value  of  your  time,  and  would 
on  no  account  subject  you  to  so  much  unnecessary  trouble. 
I  shall  easily  find  it  from  your  directions." 

Helen  was  looking  out  of  the  window,  and  her  father  was 
busied  as  usual,  when  a  low  tap  was  heiard  at  the  door. 

Supposing  it  was  Martha,  who,  in  fact,  with  the  exception 
of  the  landlady,  was  her  only  visitor,  she  cried  "  Come  in," 
and  then  creeping  softly  to  the  door,  jumped  out  playfully 
apon  the  one  who  entered.     Her  dismay  may  readily  be 


THE  lawyer's  progress.  59 

conceived  when,  instead  of  the  quiet  seamstress,  she  found 
that  she  had  narrowly  escaped  jumping  into  the  arms  of  a 
tall  man  with  a  white  hat. 

"  I  am  very  sorry,  —  I  did  not  know,  —  I  thought  it  was 
Martha,"  she  faltered,  in  great  conlUsion,  her  cheeks  dyed 
with  blushes. 

"  Don't  apologize,  I  beg  of  you,"  said  the  stranger,  cour- 
teously. "It  is  I,  on  the  contrary,  who  should  apologize 
for  intruding  upon  you,  and,"  he  added,  glancing  to  the 
comer  of  the  room,  "upon  your  respected  parent.  I  am 
not  mistaken,"  he  added,  inquiringly,  "  in  supposing  him  to 
be  your  father  ?  " 

"  No,  sir,"  said  Helen,  who,  without  understanding  why, 
felt  a  little  ill  at  ease  jfrom  the  elaborate  politeness  of  her 
visitor. 

"  But  I  have  not  yet  disclosed  the  motive  of  my  visit.  I 
chanced  to  be  walking  behind  you  and  your  father  yester- 
day in  the  afternoon.    You  walked  out  at  that  time  ?  " 

"Yes,  sir." 

"I  thought  I  could  not  be  mistaken.  There  are  some 
countenances,  my  dear  young  lady,  that  we  are  not  likely  to 
forget." 

Helen,  unused  ,as  she  was  to  flattery,  did  not  understand 
that  this  was  meant  for  a  compliment.  Therefore  it  quite 
failed  of  its  effect.  Perhaps  this  was  quite  as  well,  since, 
if  understood,  it  would  have  confused  rather  than  pleased 
her.  She  was  too  deficient  in  vanity  to  have  felt  flattered 
by  a  compliment  from  a  stranger.  Yet  no  one  was  more 
desirous  of  winning  the  approval  of  those  whose  friendship 
she  valued.  Helen  was,  in  short,  a  truthful,  unsophisticated 
child,  perfectly  transparent  and  straightforward,  and  imag- 
ined that  others  were  equally  so.  So  she  only  waited  pa- 
tiently for  Mr.  Sharp  to  announce  the  object  of  his  call. 


60  fiELEH   FORD. 

"Afterwards  I  discovered  this  purse  on  the  sidewalk," 
continued  the  lawyer,  displaying  his  own  purse.  "  As  yon 
and  your  father  had  just  passed,  I  conjectured  that  one  or 
the  other  of  you  must  have  dropped  it.  I  have,  accordingly, 
called  this  morning  to  ascertain  if  I  am  correct  in  my  sup- 
position, and  if  so,  to  return  the  purse." 

"No,"  said  Helen,  shaking  her  head.  "It  caimot  be 
ours." 

"  Then  I  must  seek  farther  for  the  owner.  I  beg  you  will 
pardon  me  for  this  intrusion." 

Helen  said,  rather  awkwardly,  that  it  was  of  no  conse- 
quence. 

"  May  I  inquire,"  said  Mr.  Sharp,  as  if  the  idea  suddenly 
struck  him,  "whether  your  father  is  not  an  inventor?  I 
think  I  was  told  so  by  the  very  respectable  lady  down  stairs." 

"  Yes,"  said  Helen,  more  at  her  ease.  "  Papa  has  been 
busy  a  great  while  about  his  invention.  It  requires  a  great 
deal  of  time  and  patience." 

"Indeed I  Would  it  be  taking  too  great  a  liberty  to 
inquire  the  nature  of  the  proposed  invention?  " 

"  It  is  a  flying  machine,"  said  Helen.  "  Some  people 
laugh  at  it,"  she  added,  a  little  hurriedly.  "  It  seems  strange 
to  them  because  they  have  never  thought  much  about  it." 

"  Let  them  laugh,"  said  Mr.  Sharp,  with  warmth.  "  Let 
them  laugh,  my  dear  young  lady,"  he  repeated  in  a  tone  of 
profound  sympathy.  "  It  is  the  way  of  the  world.  There 
has  never  been  any  great  discovery  or  invention,  Jfrom  the 
earliest  ages  to  the  present  time,  that  has  not  encountered 
ridicule.  Wait  till  success  crowns  your  father's  exertions, 
and  then  you  will  see  how  all  wUl  be  changed." 

"  So  papa  thinks,"  said  Helen,  quite  grateful  to  the  lawyer 
for  his  words  of  encouragement ;  "  and  it  is  that  which  makes 
him  labor  so  patiently." 

"  Undoubtedly.    Would  it  be  too  great  a  liberty  to  ask 


THB   LAWYEB'S   PBOGBESS.  61 

permission  to  examine  your  father's  invention.  It  is  a  sub- 
ject in  which  I  feel  a  very  deep  interest.  Indeed,  I  may  say 
that  I  am  something  of  an  inventor  myself." 

Poor  confiding  Helen  I  How  could  she  imagtue  that  these 
words  of  sympathy  covered  an  unblushing  falsehood  ? 

"  Papa  will  be  very  glad  to  show  it  to  you,"  she  said. 
Then  to  her  father:  "Papa,  this  gentleman  would  like  to 
examine  your  model." 

"  Certainly,"  said  Mr.  Ford,  courteously. 

This  was  a  subject  on  which,  despite  his  taciturnity,  he 
eould  talk  fluently.  Mr.  Sharp  listened  with  an  appearance 
of  profound  attention,  occasionally  asking  a  question,  and 
remarking  modestly  that  he  had  once  entered  upon  a  similar 
train  of  investigation,  but  that  the  imperative  claims  of  busi- 
ness had  brought  it  to  an  abrupt  termination. 

"I  have  not  by  any  means,"  he  concluded,  "lost  my  in- 
terest in  scientific  matters;  and  it  would  afford  me  great 
pleasure  if  you  will  permit  me  occasionally  to  look  in  upon 
you  and  note  your  progress.  I  dare  not  hope  that  I  could 
offer  any  suggestions  likely  to  be  of  service  to  one  so  far 
my  superior  in  scientific  attainments,  but  should  it  be  in  my 
power  to  aid  you  in  any  way,  you  can  count  on  me  with 
confidence." 

Mr.  Ford  felt  flattered,  as  was  but  natural,  by  this  evi- 
dence of  interest  in  his  pursuits,  and  cordially  invited  Mr. 
Sharp  to  call  whenever  he  found  it  convenient. 

"  Well,  Sharp,"  said  that  gentleman,  apostrophizing  him- 
self, as  he  made  his  way  down  stairs,  "you've  done  well, 
old  fellow,  though  at  one  time  I  trembled  for  you.  You've 
flattered  your  way  into  the  good  graces  of  that  chimerical 
old  fool,  and  now  you  are  in  a  fair  way  to  accomplish  some- 
thing more,  if  needful." 

The  next  day  found  him  closeted  with  Lewis  Rand,  firom 

whom  he  received  instructions  as  to  his  fiiture  course. 
6 


CHAPTER   X. 

NEW    PROJECTS. 

Helen  had  been  long  and  anxiously  considering  in  what 
manner  she  could  employ  herself  so  as  to  earn  a  sufficient 
amount  to  defray  the  expenses  of  living.  Every  day  the 
little  stock  of  money  remaining  in  her  purse  became  less. 
They  lived  very  frugally,  but  there  was  the  rent,  and  two 
persons  cannot  live  on  air.  So  the  little  hoard  diminished, 
and  five  dollars  were  now  all  that  remained  to  Helen.  Five 
doUa,rs !  it  might  keep  them  ten  days,  but  certainly  would 
not  last  longer,  economize  as  they  might.  From  her  father 
Helen  could  hope  for  no  present  assistance.  He  was  always 
at  work,  but  his  labor,  however  well  it  might  be  compensat- 
ed in  the  future,  brought  in  no  money  now.  And  for  money 
there  would  soon  be  pressing  occasion.  Helen  grew  very 
uneasy  at  the  thought  that  they  might  be  turned  penniless 
into  the  street.  Hitherto  they  had  never  been  without 
money.  The  five  dollars  that  remained  was  the  last  instal- 
ment of  a  small  property  left  her  father  by  his  mother. 

One  morning  Helen  sat  at  the  table,  leaning  her  head  upon 
her  hand,  plunged  in  anxious  thought.  At  fiLrst  she  could 
think  of  no  possible  resource.  But  when  everything  looks 
dark,  and  aU  paths  seem  closed  to  us,  suddenly  from  out  the 
thick  darkness  there  sometimes  streams  a  ray  of  hope  to 
cheer  and  sustain  the  sinking  heart. 

So  it  was  LQ  the  present  case. 

In  her  humility,  Helen  had  never  dreamed  that  she  pos- 
sessed extraordinary  musical  powers,  and  it  was  only  through 

62 


HEW  PROJEcrrs.  63 

the  warm  commendation  of  Martha  Grey  that  this  fact  be- 
came known  to  her.  Why  should  she  not  employ  these  in 
her  father's  service  ?  At  the  theatre  a  singer,  but  little  older 
than  herself,  and  as  Martha  declared  inferior  in  talent,  had 
won  the  popular  applause.  Why  should  not  she  gain  em- 
ployment in  a  similar  capacity?  Full  of  these  thoughts,  she 
entered  Martha's  room. 

The  seamstress  sat  at  the  open  window.  The  cool  breeze 
that  found  its  way  in,  lent  a  faint  flush  to  her  pale  cheeks. 
In  the  cage  over  her  head  a  canary  bird  sang  —  Martha's 
solitary  extravagance.  As  she  sat  alone  from  morning  till 
night  engaged  in  her  monotonous  task,  the  bird  supplied  the 
place  of  human  company,  and  beguiled  a  portion  of  the 
weary  time. 

Helen  came  in  and  seated  herself  on  a  cricket  at  Martha's 
feet. 

Martha's  face  brightened,  for  she  had  already  learned  to 
love  the  child. 

"  I  am  glad  to  see  you,  Helen,"  she  said.  "  How  is  your 
fether,  to-day?" 

"  Papa  is  much  as  usual." 

**  Hard  at  work  as  ever,  I  suppose." 

"  Yes ;  he  allows  himself  no  time  to  rest.  I  really  think 
he  ought.  But,  Martha,  I  am  going  to  ask  your  advice 
about  something  very  important  to  me,"  said  the  child, 
gravely. 

*'  Thank  you  for  your  confidence,  Helen.  Whatever  is  of 
Importance  to  you  will  be  of  interest  to  me." 

"  You  remember  telling  me  the  other  day  that  you  liked 
my  singing,  and  that  I  might  some  day  become  a  great  sing- 
er. You  know  I  told  you  at  the  time  how  glad  I  was  to 
hear  you  say  so." 

*'  Yes,  Helen ;  I  remember  it." 

*«  I  did  not  tell  you  then  why  I  felt  glad ;  but  I  will  now.** 


64  HELEN   FOBD. 

Helen  pansed  a  moment,  and  then  in  a  frank  tone,  which 
showed  how  little  she  was  affected  by  the  conventional 
shame  some  feel  in  disclosing  their  poverty,  continued: 
"My  father  and  I  are  very  poor.  We  have  been  so  for 
some  time,  but  I  got  a  little  money  by  sewing,  and  that 
helped  along.  Now,  you  know,  business  is  dull,  and  I  can 
get  no  more  work  to  do.  The  little  money  we  have  left  will 
not  last  a  fortnight,  though  I  am  very  economical.  So  you 
see,  Martha,  it  is  quite  necessary  that  I  should  find  some 
way  of  earning  more  money  at  once." 

"  Does  your  father  know  how  near  you  are  to  destitu- 
tion ?  "  inquired  the  seamstress. 

"  No,"  was  the  child's  reply ;  "  and  I  hope  he  will  not 
find  out.  I  cannot  bear  to  trouble  him  with  that,  when  he 
has  so  much  to  think  of.  It  can't  be  very  long  before  he  fin- 
ishes his  model,  and  then  we  shall  have  plenty  of  money. 
If  I  can  only  earn  enough  to  keep  us  along  till  that  time  I 
shall  be  very  glad." 

"  Poor  child  1 "  thought  Martha,  compassionately ;  "  it 
will  be  long  enough  before  your  father's  invention  fills  your 
purse." 

She  was  about  to  offer  to  procure  Helen  some  work  from 
the  establishment  where  she  was  employed,  but  when  she 
looked  at  the  bright  face  of  the  young  girl,  and  thought  to 
what  hours  and  days  of  weariness  it  would  consign  her,  how 
it  would  steal  one  by  one  the  roses  from  her  cheeks,  and  the 
freshness  from  her  heart,  leaving  her  with  little  to  enjoy  in 
the  present  and  less  to  hope  for  in  the  future,  she  had  not 
the  heart  to  offer  her  the  destiny  which  she  had  been  com- 
pelled to  accept  for  herself;  nor  could  she  bear  to  dim  the 
child's  trustful  confidence  in  her  father's  success  by  the 
expression  of  a  single  doubt. 

She  remained  silent. 

Finding   that   Martha  said  nothing,  Helen  continued: 


KEW  PB0JECT8.  65 

"  When  I  came  to  see  yon  the  other  day,  Martha,  I  had  been 
trying  to  think  of  some  way  in  which  I  could  help  poor  papa, 
bnt  I  could  think  of  nothing.  Then  when  I  sang  to  you  and 
yon  liked  it,  I  thought  it  possible  that  others  might  like  it, 
too.  Do  you  think,"  she  asked,  lifting  her  eyes  with  a  look 
of  earnest  expectation ;  "  do  you  think  they  would  hire  me 
to  sing  at  the  theatre  ?  " 

Martha  started  in  surprise.  As  yet  no  thought  of  the 
child's  purpose  had  entered  her  mind.  To  one  so  unobtru- 
sive and  retiring  by  natural  temperament,  the  thought  of 
going  forth  at  the  head  of  an  army  would  have  seemed 
scarcely  more  formidable  that  that  of  standing  before  a  pub- 
lic audience.  Yet  this  was  what  Helen,  so  diffident  always, 
actually  proposed  to  do. 

"  Can  you  really  be  in  earnest,  Helen?  "  she  asked ;  gaz- 
ing in  amazement  at  the  child  who  cherished  such  bold  aspi- 
rations. 

She  did  not  understand  the  power  of  the  motive  which  in- 
fluenced Helen;  how  she  made  everytMng  subordinate  to 
the  promptings  of  filial  affection,  which  was  stronger  than 
any  other  feeling  of  her  nature.  That  gave  her  courage  to 
think  of  what  she  would  otherwise  have  shrunk  from  with 
nervous  timidity.  For  her  father  she  felt  that  she  could 
dare  all.  It  was  a  strange  position,  that  of  a  young  girl  at 
her  age,  called  upon  to  assume  the  oversight  and  care  of 
providing  for  her  father's  comfort  and  necessities.  Stranger 
still  was  it,  that  with  all  the  knowledge  of  her  father's  de- 
pendence upon  herself  and  his  utter  ignorance  of  the  world 
and  its  ways,  she  should  yet  have  retained  so  thorough  a 
respect  and  reverence  for  him. 

"  Can  you  be  in  earnest?  " 

It  was  Helen's  turn  to  be  surprised  at  the  question. 

"Why  not?"  she  asked.  "It  is  my  duty  to  help  poor 
papa,  and  if  I  can  do  so  in  this  way,  why  should  I  not?  " 


66  HELEN   FOBD. 

"  That  is  true,  Helen,  but  think  of  standing  before  so 
many  hundreds,  or  perhaps  thousands  of  people,  with  every 
eye  fixed  upon  you.     How  could  you  bear  that  ?  " 

"  I  should  not  think  of  it  at  all,  Martha.  When  I  am 
singing  I  can  see  nothing  and  hear  nothing.  I  seem  to  be 
mounting  up — up  into  the  air,  and  floating  among  the 
clouds.    I  can*t  tell  you  how  much  I  enjoy  singing." 

As  Helen  spoke  her  eyes  sparkled,  and  her  face  flushed 
with  enthusiasm.  The  exhibition  of  deep  natural  feeling  is 
always  impressive.  Martha  felt  it  to  be  so,  and  could  not 
help  admiring  and  loving  the  child  more  than  ever.  Helen 
had  almost  persuaded  her. 

"But,"  she  continued  with  returning  caution,  "you  may 
not  always  feel  so.  There  would  be  times  when  you  would 
not  feel  Uke  singing,  but  sing  only  because  you  were  obliged 
to.  Then  when  you  encountered  the  glances  of  so  many 
eyes,  would  not  your  heart  sink  and  your  courage  fail 
you  ?  " 

"Then,  Martha,"  said  Helen,  with  simplicity,  "I  should 
think  of  poor  papa,  and  how  by  my  exertions  I  was  able  to 
make  him  comfortable,  and  how  by  and  by,  when  he  had  suc- 
ceeded, I  should  not  be  obliged  to  do  anything  more.  Then 
I  should  think  how  much  he  had  done  for  me,  and  how  hard 
he  is  laboring  even  now.  There  would  be  a  great  satisfac- 
tion in  that.  I  ought  not  to  hesitate  when  I  have  an  oppor- 
tunity to  do  something  for  him,  ought  I,  Martha?  " 

"  You  are  a  dear,  good  child,"  said  the  seamstress,  afleo- 
tionately ;  "  and  I  will  not  say  a  single  word  more  against 
your  plan.  But  you  must  not  be  too  hopeful.  You  may 
meet  with  disappointment  about  getting  a  situation." 

"  You  mean  that  perhaps  I  shall  not  sing  weU  enough, 
Martha,"  said  Helen.  "  But  I  shall  do  my  best  when  I 
think  how  much  my  father's  comfort  depends  upon  my 
success ;  and  that  will  be  sure  to  help  me." 


NEW    PROJECTS.  67 

"  No,  Helen ;  that  was  not  what  I  meant.  I  never  for  a 
moment  doubted  that  you  would  sing  well  enough.  Why, 
you  sing  like  an  angel." 

"  Did  you  ever  hear  an  angel  sing  ?  "  asked  Helen,  a  little 
mischievously. 

"  In  my  dreams,"  said  Martha,  smiling.  "  But  that  was 
not  the  difficulty  I  thought  of.  Would  your  father  be  willing 
to  have  you  go  on  the  stage  ?  " 

"  He  would  not  be  willing  at  first,  so  I  think  I  shall  not 
tell  him  till  I  find  out  whether  they  are  willing  to  employ 
me.  Papa  is  so  thoughtful  of  me  that  he  would  think  I  was 
attempting  too  much,  or  suspect  it  was  poverty  that  led  me 
to  it.    It  will  be  better  not  to  tell  him  at  first." 

"  Then  there  is  another  thing  to  be  considered.  Perhaps 
there  will  be  as  many  singers  employed  as  are  required.  It 
is  not  always  easy  to  obtain  an  engagement,  even  where 
one  is  deserving.  K  you  only  had  some  influential 
friends " 

"  I  have  you,"  said  Helen,  archly. 

Martha  smiled  faintly. 

"  I  am  afi-aid  if  that  is  all  you  have  to  rely  upon  that  it 
■will  be  leaning  on  a  broken  reed.  However,  we  will  hope 
for  the  best,  and  not  despond  till  we  have  reason  to  do 

80." 

So  the  two  conversed  till  Helen  heard  a  neighboring  clock 
striking  five. 

"  Five  o'clock !  "  she  exclaimed.  "  I  did  not  know  it  was 
so  late.    I  must  go  up  and  prepare  supper." 

She  tripped  lightly  up  stairs  with  a  new  hope  in  her  heart. 
Unconscious  of  the  cares  which  had  fallen  so  early  upon  his 
daughter,  Mr.  Ford  was  laboring  at  his  machinery.  Helen 
came  and  stood  by  his  side. 

"  Well,  papa,  what  progress?"  she  asked,  cheerfully. 

"  Very  good,  my  child,"  said  the  dreamer.     "  I  have  Just 


$$  HELEN    FOBD. 

taoceeded  in  obn&iaiig  a  difficulty  which  has  perplexed  me 
far  some  time," 

"  How  very  glad  I  am,  papa^  That  ought  to  give  you  a 
good  appetite  for  jovs  supper»  I  shall  have  it  ready  in  a 
few  minutes.*' 


CHAPTER  XL 

THS  ENGAGEMENT. 

Tei  next  day  Helen  resolved  to  put  her  plan  into  exec?^ 
tion.  As  soon  as  her  morning  duties  were  completed,  and 
her  father  seated  at  his  never-ending  task,  she  dressed  her- 
self in  the  best  manner  her  limited  wardrobe  would  admit. 
Though  inexperienced  in  the  ways  of  the  world,  she  felt 
instinctively  the  importance  of  making  a  favorable  first 
impression.  When  she  was  quite  ready,  she  left  the  room 
softly,  and  was  soon  mingling  with  the  busy  crowds  that 
thronged  Broadway.  At  first  she  walked  rapidly,  but,  as 
she  drew  nearer  her  destination,  and  could  see  the  imposing 
front  of  the  theatre,  her  heart  beat  quick  and  her  step  became 
slower. 

When  she  actually  reached  the  entrance,  a  feeling  of  diffi- 
dence seized  her,  which  she  found  it  almost  impossible  to 
overcome.  She  felt  that  she  could  not  enter,  at  least  just 
then,  and  walked  slowly  by.  After  a  while  she  walked  back, 
but  was  withheld  from  entering  again  by  a  feeling  scarcely 
less  strong.  Again  she  walked  past,  and  again  returned. 
This  time  she  had  schooled  herself  to  the  effort,  and  ap- 
proaching, with  hesitation,  the  office  where  tickets  were  sold 
for  the  evening's  entertainment,  inquired,  in  a  low  voice,  for 
the  manager. 

"Who  did  you  wish  to  see?"  inquired  the  clerk,  with 
some  surprise  visible  in  his  manner. 

The  request  was  repeated. 

"  The  manager?    Can't  say  whether  he's  in  or  not.    Yoo 

09 


70  HIILEN    FOBD. 

mnst  go  to  the  back  entrance  and  torn  to  the  lefL    Then 
knock  at  the  first  door." 

Helen  looked  bewildered. 

"  Have  you  been  here  before  ?  " 

"  No,  sk." 

"  Stop  a  minute,  and  I  will  show  you,  then.  I  shall 
close  the  office  directly." 

Helen  was  very  glad  of  the  delay,  as  it  gave  her  time  to 
assume  an  outward  semblance  of  calmness. 

Mr.  Bowers,  the  manager,  was  seated  in  a  small  room  con- 
necting with  the  stage.  He  was  a  man  of  comfortable  pro- 
portions, and  bore  the  appearance  of  one  whom  the  world 
had  used  not  unkindly.  Though,  in  general,  good-tempered, 
he  was,  on  this  particular  morning,  "  out  of  sorts."  A  new 
play  was  to  be  brought  out  in  the  evening.  The  actors  had 
been  allowed  very  little  time  to  "  get  up  "  their  parts,  and, 
as  a  natural  consequence,  the  rehearsal  of  the  morning  had 
been,  thus  far,  a  series  of  blunders.  In  addition  to  this, 
the  "  star"  had  failed  to  make  his  appearance,  and  the  pros- 
pect for  a  successful  evening  did  not  look  very  bright. 

Under  these  circumstances  it  was  not  altogether  surprising 
that  Mr.  Bowers  should  feel  disappointed  and  irritated. 

It  was  at  this  inauspicious  moment  that  Helen  was  ush- 
ered into  his  presence.  The  manager  looked  up  with  visible 
vexation,  serving  to  add  to  the  embarrassment  under  which 
Helen  was  already  laboring. 

"  "Well?"  he  demanded,  in  a  quick,  impatient  tone. 

Helen  felt  that  it  would  be  a  relief  if  the  floor  would  open 
and  swallow  her  up,  or  if  she  could  escape  in  some  other 
way.  The  interview,  which  had  seemed  comparatively  easy 
in  the  quiet  of  her  own  room,  had  now  become  very  formi- 
dable. She  began  to  wonder  at  her  own  presumption  in  sup- 
posing herself  capable  of  pleasing  the  public  with  her  simple 


THE  ENGAGEMENT.  71 

«onga,  and  to  feel  that  Martha's  partiality  must  have  led 
astray  her  better  judgment. 

While  these  thoughts  were  passing  through  her  mind,  she 
sat  silent,  quite  unable  to  frame  a  sentence.  The  manager 
regarded  her  with  surprise,  unable  to  account  for  her  silence. 

"  What  is  your  business  with  me  ?  "  he  inquired,  in  a  tone 
which  indicated  that  his  tune  was  of  great  consequence,  and 
the  sooner  he  was  left  to  himself  the  better  he  should  be 
suited. 

Helen  understood  the  tone  quite  as  readily  as  the  words, 
and,  imperative  as  it  was,  it  assisted  in  recalling  her  to  her- 
self.    She  came  to  the  point  at  once. 

"  Do  you  wish  to  engage  any  one  to  sing  for  you?  " 

She  had  said  all  that  was  necessary,  and  then  she  stopped, 
half-frightened  at  her  own  temerity. 

It  was  the  manager's  turn  to  look  sur^Drised.  He  had  not 
taken  the  trouble  to  wonder  what  the  child's  business  was. 
He  had  only  asked  as  a  necessary  form,  preparatory  to  dis- 
missing her.  He  looked  more  particularly  at  her  now,  notio- 
ing  her  cMldish  form  arid  air,  and  asked,  abruptly,  — 

"  Are  you  inquiring  for  yourself?  " 

"Yes,  sir." 

She  looked  up  earnestly  in  his  face.  Her  bonnet  had 
partly  fallen  back,  revealing  the  rare  loveliness  of  which  she 
was  unconscious.   She  waited  breathlessly  for  the  answer. 

"Our  company  is  full,"  said  "Mr.  Bowers,  coldly.  He 
turned  again  to  his  desk,  and  resumed  his  writing.  His 
manner  said,  so  plainly,  "You  may  go,"  that  Helen  pre- 
pared to  obey  the  unspoken  but  implied  direction.  Her 
heart  sank  within  her  at  this  first  disappointment.  Thoughts 
of  the  comiQg  destitution,  which  she  had  hoped  to  ward  off 
by  this  means,  crowded  upon  her,  and  she  could  scarcely 
keep  back  the  rebellious  tears,  which,  had  she  been  alonoy 
would  have  had  free  course. 


T8  HELEN   VORD. 

As  she  passed  slowly  out,  a  messenger  hurriedly  entered 
the  ofl3ce. 

"  WeU,  what  now?  "  asked  the  manager,  somewhat  testily. 
''  Any  more  blunders  ?  It  seems  as  if  everything  conspired 
against  us.    Has made  his  appearance  ?  " 

"No,  sir." 

"  And  won't,  I'll  be  bound.  These  feUows  claim  the  lion's 
share  of  the  profits,  and  trouble  themselves  little  about  the 
convenience  of  their  employers." 

"  Miss  De  Forrest  is  indisposed,  sir,  and  will  be  unable  to 
sing  this  evening." 

"  Indisposed !  Unable  to  appear  I "  repeated  the  mana- 
ger, angrily.  "  And  why  the  d — 1  must  she  take  this  partic- 
ular evening  to  be  sick  ?  I  don't  believe  a  word  of  it.  Go 
to  her,  and  teU  her  we  can't  spare  her." 

•*  It  IS  reported,"  said  the  messenger,  deprecatingly,  for 
Mr.  Bowers  was  in  one  of  those  moods  when  it  was  difficult 
to  make  him  listen  to  reason ;  "  it  is  reported  that  she  has 
a  fever,  and  wiU  not  be  able  to  appear  for  some  time." 

"  A  fever  I  And  what  bustaess  has  she  to  have  a  fever  ?  " 
growled  the  manager.  "  Well,"  said  he,  after  a  brief  pause, 
"  is  there  nobody  to  take  her  place  ?  " 

"  I  know  of  no  one." 

Mr.  Bowers  mused  a  moment.  "  It  won't  do,"  he  thought, 
"  to  omit  the  songs  altogether,  especially  to-night,  when  we 
are  likely  to  have  so  many  other  shortcomings.  I  have  it, 
Jefl&les,"  he  exclaimed.  "  Did  you  notice  the  child  who  left 
the  office  as  you  entered  ?  " 

"Yes,  sir." 

"  Do  you  think  you  should  know  her  again?  " 

"  I  think  so." 

"  Then  follow  her  immediately,  and  brtag  her  back  with 
you.    Say  I  wish  to  see  her." 

When  Helen  left  the  theatre,  she  walked  very  slowly,  as 


THE    ENGAGEMENT.  73 

if  to  gain  time  to  become  reconciled  to  her  late  disappoint- 
ment. What  a  revulsion  of  feeling  had  a  single  half-hour 
wrought  in  her  I  Her  high  hopes  had  been  dashed  to  the 
earth,  and  nothing  was  left  but  a  sense  of  humiliation  and 
rebuked  presumption.  Had  she  but  been  invited  to  sing,  by 
waj  of  testing  her  powers,  that  would  have  been  something ; 
bu':  to  have  been  refused  so  coldly  and  peremptorily,  might 
well  depress  her. 

Walking  slowly,  she  had  not  proceeded  far  when  she 
heard  some  one  calling  after  her,  "  You  are  to  come  tiack. 
Mr.  Bowers  wishes  to  see  you." 

Not  supposing  that  she  was  intended,  she  did  not  turn  till 
some  one  touched  her  arm,  and  looking  back  she  recognized 
the  young  man  who  had  entered  the  manager's  office  as  she 
left  it. 

"  Did  you  just  leave  the  theatre  ?  "  he  inquired. 

"  Yes,"  said  Helen,  with  sudden  hope. 

"  Mr.  Bowers  would  like  to  see  you  again,  then." 

Helen  experienced  another  revulsion  of  feeling.  The 
clouds  seemed  breaking.  The  recall  was  evidently  favor- 
able to  her  prospects  of  an  engagement. 

Five  minutes  found  her  once  more  in  the  manager's 
presence. 

"  What  is  your  name?  "  he  asked,  abruptly. 

"  Helen  Ford." 

"  Humph  I  that  will  do.    Have  you  parents  living?** 

"Only  a  father." 

"And  did  he  send  you  here?" 

"  No,  sir,"  said  Helen. 

"  Does  he  know  that  you  have  come? " 

Helen  shook  her  head  somewhat  uneasily.  New  diffi- 
culties seemed  to  be  springing  up  in  her  path. 

"  After  all,"  thought  the  manager,  "  if  she's  really  worth 
engaging,  her  father's  consent  is  not  essential.    He  will  not 


74  HELEN    FOBD. 

object  to  her  earning  something  by  her  voice.  At  any  rate 
Fll  try  her,  and  see  if  she  has  any  talent." 

"  What  can  you  sing?  "  he  asked,  after  a  pause,  in  which 
Helen  watched  his  face  eagerly. 

"  What  would  you  like  to  hear,  sir  ?  " 

"  Jeflries,  what  songs  are  announced  for  this  evemng?** 

"  *  The  Widow  Machree  *  and  '  Comin*  thro*  the  Rye,' 
•ir." 

"  Can  you  sing  these,  Miss  Ford?  " 

"  I  will  try,  sir." 

"Mind,"  premised  the  manager,  cautiously,  "I  don't 
promise  to  engage  you,  even  if  your  singing  is  satisfactory. 
As  I  said  before,  our  company  is  already  full,  but  there  may 
be  a  vacancy  some  time ;  and  if  so,  I  shall  want  to  know 
where  to  look  for  some  one  to  fill  it." 

Mr.  Bowers  threw  himself  back  in  his  arm-chair,  and,  with 
a  magisterial  wave  of  the  hand,  signalled  Helen  to  begin. 

She  paused  a  moment,  as  if  to  collect  he.  elf,  resolutely 
patting  aside  the  feeling  of  embarrassment  "w  ^Ich  was  steal- 
ing over  her.  She  felt  that  she  had  too  much  at  stake  to 
hazard  all  by  giving  way  to  nervous  weakness.  It  was  not 
long  that  she  suffered  from  timidity.  She  commenced  sing- 
ing in  a  low  voice,  but  gradually  confidence  came  to  her,  and 
it  acquired  strength.  Her  voice  was  wonderfully  sweet  and 
flexible.  Mr.  Bowers  started  slightly  when  she  commenced, 
and  at  once  became  attentive.  More  than  this,  he  was 
charmed.  The  whole  room  became  vocal  with  melody. 
Even  on  the  stage,  where  the  actors  were  listlessly  rehears- 
ing their  parts  for  the  evening,  Helen's  voice  was  heard,  and 
they  quietly  gathered  about  the  entrance,  and  listened  in 
mute  surprise,  wondering  what  musical  prodigy  had  so  sea- 
sonably turned  up  to  supply  the  place  of  Miss  De  Forrest. 

The  song  ceased,  and  Helen  stood  in  silence,  awaiting  the 
manager's  verdict. 


THE  ENGAGEMENT.  75 

Mr.  Bowers  had  been  delighted  with  an  exhibition  of 
talent  so  far  surpassing  his  most  sanguine  expectations. 
But  managers  are  not  enthusiastic,  and  he  was  far  too  polite 
to  express  all  he  felt.  That  would  have  been  quite  unpro- 
fessional. 

"You  have  done  very  well,  Miss  Ford,"  he  said,  gra- 
ciously. "  You  have  not  overrated  your  talents,  as  is  the 
case  with  some  who  aspire  to  sing  in  public.  Of  whom 
have  you  taken  lessons  ?  '* 

"  My  mother  taught  me  to  sing." 

"  Indeed  I    And  was  your  mother  a  professional  banger?  ** 

"  Oh,  no,  sir." 

"  She  has  evidently  taught  you  well.  Your  voice,  too,  is 
very  fair,  —  very  fair,  indeed." 

"  Do  I  sing  well  enough  to  appear  in  public,  sir  ?  "  asked 
Helen,  eagerly. 

"  Yes,  or  you  may  in  time.  Of  course,  you  require  train- 
ing." 

"  Thank  you,  sir." 

"  When  you  were  here,  a  few  minutes  since,  I  thought  I 
had  no  place  for  you.  I  have  been  informed  since  that 
Miss  De  Forrest,  my  regular  singer,  is  unexpectedly  taken 
ill,  and  may  not  recover  for  some  time.  I  will  engage  you 
for  a  week  in  her  place  if  we  can  agree  upon  terms." 

"  I  am  very  much  obliged  to  you,  sir,"  said  Helen,  with 
difficulty  concealing  her  joy. 

"  I  will  pay  you  six  dollars  for  the  first  week,"  continued 
the  manager.  "  Should  you  do  well,  and  I  have  occasion  to 
employ  you  longer,  I  may  increase  your  compensation. 
But,  of  course,  being  a  beginner,  you  cannot  expect  a  large 
salary." 

Large  I  Six  dollars  seemed  to  Helen  a  small  fortune.  It 
would  enable  them  to  live  better  than  she  had  dared  to  do 
since  they  became  inmates  of  Mrs.  Morton's  boarding-house. 


76  HELEN   VOBD. 

"You  will  be  expected  to  make  your  first  appearance  this 

evening,  in  the  songs  which  you  have  already  sung.    You 

will  present  yourself  at  rehearsal  to-morrow  morning  at  ten 

o'clock.    We  will  dispense  with  it  to-day." 

•  "  At  what  hour  shall  I  come  this  evening  ?  "  asked  Helen. 

"  The  doors  wiU  open  at  seven.  You  may  present  your- 
self an  hour  eaiiier.  It  will  be  necessary  for  you  to  dress 
and  become  familiar  with  the  stage  before  the  performance 
commences." 

Helen  hurried  home,  not  as  before  with  a  heavy  heart,  but 
with  a  feeling  of  deep  and  thankful  joy.  It  seemed  as  if  she 
could  not  get  over  the  ground  fast  enough.  She  was  anxious 
to  report  her  success  to  good  Martha  Grey,  who,  she  felt 
sure,  would  sympathize  with  her.  She  bounded  along,  re- 
gardless of  the  stares  and  astonished  looks  of  those  with 
whom  she  came  in  collision,  and  never  paused  until  she 
entered,  breathless  with  haste,  the  room  of  her  Mend. 

"  What  is  the  matter,  Helen  ?  "  asked  Martha,  looking  up 
fSpom  her  work.     "  You  seem  quite  wild  with  excitement." 

"  I  have  succeeded,  Martha.  Only  think  of  that.  I  am 
to  sing  to-night  at  the  theatre.  I  am  engaged  for  a  week, 
and  am  to  receive  six  dollars." 

"  I  am  sincerely  glad,  my  dear  child,"  said  Martha, 
affectionately.  "  Wait  till  you  have  recovered  your  breath, 
and  then  you  shaU  tell  me  all  about  it." 

As  Martha  listened  to  her  glowing  recital,  she  caught 
some  of  her  enthusiasm,  and  never  doubted  that  she  must 
and  would  pass  triumphantly  through  the  trying  ordeal  of  a 
first  introduction  to  the  public 


CHAPTER  Xn. 

Helen's  debut. 

Thibb  was  one  difficulty  attending  the  carrying  out  of  h^ 
plan  which  occasioned  Helen  some  embarrassment.  She  was 
to  present  herself  at  the  theatre  at  six,  and  would,  undoubt- 
edly, be  detained  there  until  late  in  the  evening.  How  she 
could  absent  herself  so  long  without  incurring  her  father's 
suspicions,  was  a  problem  which  she  found  it  difficult  to 
solve.  Under  any  other  circumstances  she  would  have  hesi- 
tated about  taking  a  step  so  important  with  her  father's  con- 
sent previously  obtained,  but  now  she  was  impelled,  by  her 
very  affection  for  her  father,  to  conceal  what  she  proposed 
doing  untU  she  had  taken  the  first  step. 

At  length  Martha  proposed  that  she  should  openly  ask 
permission  to  attend  the  theatre  in  her  company.  Mr.  Ford, 
of  course,  would  never  dream  her  real  object.  Perhaps  this 
was  the  best  plan  that  could  have  been  devised.  Her  father 
only  answered,  "  Certainly,  my  dear ;  I  hope  you  will  enjoy 
yourself." 

"  But  will  you  not  be  lonely,  papa?" 

"  I  shall  be  too  busy  for  that,  Helen,"  he  said,  glancing  af 
his  unfinished  model. 

Believed  on  this  point,  Helen  made  the  necessary  prepara- 
tions and  left  the  house  in  company  with  Martha,  who  had 
promised  to  bear  her  company  as  far  as  the  theatre.  She 
did  not  propose  to  be  present,  knowing  that  under  the  pecul- 
iar circumstances  attending  a  first  appearance,  and  the  try- 
ing ordeal  through  which  Helen  was  to  pass,  the  presence  of 

7*  77 


78  HELEK   FOBD. 

a  friend  might  prove  rather  an  additional  embarrassment  thac 
a  help. 

At  the  stage  entrance  they  parted. 

"  Keep  up  good  courage,  Helen,"  said  Martha,  pressing 
her  hand  affectionately ;  "  keep  up  good  courage,  and  all  will 
be  weU." 

Helen  stood  for  a  moment  watching  her  receding  form, 
and  then  as  the  strokes  of  a  neighboring  clock  warned  her 
to  be  punctual,  knocked  at  the  door.  It  was  opened  by 
Jeffries,  the  messenger  of  the  morning. 

"  Miss  Ford,"  said  he,  respectfully,  "  I  am  directed  to 
lead  you  at  once  to  the  dressing-room." 

Helen  was  ushered  through  a  dark  passage  and  up  a  nar- 
row winding  staircase  to  the  room  referred  to.  It  was 
crowded  with  a  heterogeneous  collection  of  articles  of  dress, 
of  every  conceivable  variety  of  shade,  cut,  and  material. 
Here  lay  the  rich  robes  of  royalty  in  juxtaposition  with  the 
coarse  attire  of  a  milk-maid.  Both  had  been  in  requisition 
the  night  before. 

Helen  looked  about  her  with  a  feeling  of  bewilderment, 
when  an  elderly  lady,  with  a  pleasant  expression,  advanced 
towards  her. 

"  I  am  glad  to  see  you,  Miss  Ford,"  she  said.  "  So  you 
are  going  to  join  us.  I  think  you  have  never  appeared 
before." 

"  I  have  never  been  in  a  theatre  but  once  before." 

"  Bless  me,  where  have  you  lived  all  your  life  ?  "  exclaimed 
her  companion,  in  unaffected  amazement.  Her  own  famil- 
iarity with  the  theatre  made  her  look  upon  Helen  as  singa- 
larly  unsophisticated. 

"  Papa  and  I  have  always  Uved  very  quietly,"  said  Helen^ 
smiling,  "  and  he  never  goes  himself." 

**  Before  I  select  a  dress  for  you,"  said  Mrs.  Girdle,  for 
sach  she  informed  Helen  was  her  name,  I  will  show  you  the 


HELEN'S    DEBXJT.  79 

stage.    You  will  want  to  know  where  to  make  your  entrance 
and  exit." 

Taking  Helen's  hand,  she  led  her  forward  until  she  stood 
on  the  stage  —  a  place  of  mystery,  which  to  the  uninitiated 
who  only  see  it  from  a  distance  in  the  glare  of  gas-light, 
seems  like  a  land  of  enchantment,  peopled  by  kings  and 
nobles,  fair  ladies  and  gallant  gentlemen.  Now  it  was 
dreary  and  comfortless.  A  very  faint  light  threw  its  sickly 
beams  over  coarsely-painted  scenes  and  tawdry  ornaments. 

"Was  this  the  stage  which  had  seemed  so  bright  and  beau- 
tiful to  Helen  only  a  few  evenings  before  ?  It  was,  indeed, 
the  same.  She  recognized  the  green  curtain,  the  use  of 
which  had  puzzled  her,  and  the  long  rows  of  empty  seats 
which  stared  her  in  the  face  when  she  proceeded  to  the  front. 
The  house  itself  had  undergone  as  dreary  a  metamorphosis. 
Then  it  was  alive  with  bright  and  eager  faces.  Now  it  was 
dark  and  cheerless. 

But  Helen  had  little  time  to  spend  in  looking  about  her. 
She  was  summoned  to  the  side  of  Mrs.  Girdle,  who  in  a 
business-like  manner  explained  to  her  what  it  was  necessary 
for  her  to  know.  Helen  listened  with  attention,  and  prom- 
ised to  remember. 

"  It  is  very  important  that  you  should  bear  in  mind  all  I 
have  been  telling  you,"  said  IMrs.  Girdle.  "  I  can  tell  you 
that  from  my  own  experience.  When  I  first  appeared  on 
the  stage  as  a  young  girl,  I  paid  less  attention  than  I  ought 
to  this  point.  It  was  very  easy  finding  my  way  off  the 
stage  in  the  daytime  when  there  was  nothing  to  distract  my 
attention,  but  in  the  evening  it  was  a  different  affair.  I 
remember  doing  very  well  till  it  was  time  to  withdraw. 
Then  in  my  excitement  I  quite  forgot  all  that  I  ought  to 
have  remembered.  I  turned  about  in  confusion,  and  seemed 
to  see  every  eye  fixed  upon  me.  I  was  seized  with  a  ner- 
vous terror.    The  audience  I  thought  were  laughing  at  me. 


80  HELEN    FOBD. 

In  my  desperation  I  darted  forward,  little  heeding  where, 
and  fell  through  a  trap-door  which  had  carelessly  been  left 
open.  Fortunately  I  was  not  injured  seriously,  only  receiv- 
ing a  salutary  fright,  which  taught  me  to  be  more  careM  in 
ftiture." 

"  Do  you  appear  to-night?"  asked  Helen,  with  interest. 

"  I  do  not  play  as  much  as  formerly,  scarcely  at  all  in 
fiact,"  answered  Mrs.  Girdle,  somewhat  sadly.  New  favor- 
ites have  sprung  up,  and  my  services  are  no  longer  required, 
except  in  emergencies." 

They  had  reached  the  dressing-room,  and  Mrs.  Girdle 
bestirred  herself  to  find  an  appropriate  dress  for  Helen.  A 
plain  white  muslin  was  selected,  looped  at  the  sleeves  with 
blue  ribbons.  Some  little  alterations  were  made  in  the 
arrangement  of  her  hair,  and  Mrs.  Girdle  seemed  satisfied. 

"  No  need  of  artificial  color  here,"  said  she,  with  a  glance 
at  Helen's  flushed  cheeks.  "  Nature  has  taken  care  of  that. 
You  are  really  very  pretty.  Miss  Ford." 

"  Thank  you,"  said  Helen ;  "  but  it  sounds  strange  to  have 
you  call  me  Miss  Ford.    Nobody  calls  me  so." 

"  What  is  your  name,  then?" 

"  Helen." 

"  I  am  glad  it  is  a  pretty  one  It  suits  you  better.  Does 
no  one  tell  you  that  you  are  pretty  ?  " 

"  Sometimes." 

"  And  does  it  not  make  you  feel  vain?  " 

"  Why  should  it?"  inquired  Helen,  seeming  surprised. 

Mrs.  Girdle  looked  at  her  with  some  curiosity.  It  was 
long  since  she  had  met  with  one  so  natural  and  transparent, 
and  she  hardly  knew  how  to  understand  her.  The  world  she 
had  lived  in  did  not  aboimd  in  such  characters. 

"  Now,  my  dear,"  she  said,  after  a  pause,  "  since  you  are 
quite  ready,  and  there  is  still  a  little  time  left,  you  had  bet- 
ter run  back  to  the  stage  and  just  hum  over  your  songs  to 


HELEN'S  DEBUT.  81 

yourself.    In  th&t  way  you  will  be  getting  accustomed  to  the 
place." 

Seven  o'clock  came,  and  with  it  the  opening  of  the  doors. 
Then  the  audience  began  to  assemble  at  first  in  small  groups 
afterwards  in  larger  parties,  till  by  and  by  every  available 
seat  was  taken.  Among  them  came  M'Ue  Fanchette,  the 
aristocratic  modiste,  Helen's  fellow-lodger.  She  wore  a 
superb  bonnet  of  white  satin,  above  which  fluttered  a  feather 
of  stately  and  imposing  elevation,  making  her  a  very  mag- 
nificent personage  iu  her  own  opinion.  She  was  in  unusually 
good  spirits,  having  secured  the  escort  and  attendance  of 
the  young  clerk,  whose  youth  she  regarded  as  a  compliment 
to  her  own  juvenility,  to  which  she  still  clung  tenaciously. 
She  had  in  her  hand  a  large  opera-glass,  which  she  used  with 
a  freedom  which  made  her  more  conspicuous  than  her  com- 
panion desired. 

The  theatre  was  crowded  —  chiefly  in  consequence  of  the 
new  play  and  the  new  actor.  Soon  the  orchestra  commenced 
playing,  and  a  few  minutes  later  the  curtain  rose. 

The  play,  in  some  measure,  disappointed  the  expectations 
of  the  audience.  The  star  was  but  poorly  supported  by  the 
stock  company,  who  had  been  compelled  to  get  up  their 
parts  at  short  notice.  It  was,  perhaps,  the  consciousness 
of  this  poor  support  that  made  the  leading  actor's  persona- 
tion less  striking  and  effective  than  usual.  The  audience 
remained  cold,  and  seldom  indulged  in  applause.  It  seemed 
desirable,  therefore,  that  the  remaining  parts  of  the  perform- 
ance  should  go  off  well. 

Helen  had  watched  the  progress  of  the  play  from  one  of 
the  wings.  Her  unpractised  eyes  could  not  detect  deficient 
cies,  and  she  became  so  absorbed  as  to  forget  for  the  time 
being  that  she  herself  was  soon  to  take  part.  As  the  cur- 
tain feU,  the  manager  walked  hastUy  forward  to  the  place 
where  she  stood. 


82  HELEN   VOBD. 

"  Miss  Ford,"  he  said,  "  you  will  be  called  immediately* 
We  shall  expect  you  to  do  your  best.  Above  aU,  don't 
allow  yourself  to  be  frightened.  Think  as  little  as  possible 
of  the  audience,  and  you  will  do  well  enough." 

Until  this  moment  Helen  had  not  thought  of  the  possibil- 
ity of  failure.  Now  the  conviction  dawned  upon  her  in  all 
its  force,  that  she  was  about  to  sing  before  two  thousand 
people  —  she  who  had  always  lived  in  such  perfect  quiet  and 
tranquillity.  Her  heart  began  to  flutter  like  an  imprisoned 
bird,  and  her  color  went  and  came.  For  a  moment  she  felt 
that  she  would  gladly  be  back  in  her  humble  room  by  her 
father's  side.  At  this  trying  moment  she  felt  a  gentle  touch 
upon  her  arm.  Turning  quickly,  her  eyes  rested  on  the  kind 
face  of  Mrs.  Girdle. 

"  Oh,  Mis.  Girdle,"  she  whispered,  in  a  tremulous  tone. 
"  I  am  so  fi-ightened.     I  don't  dare  to  go  on." 

"  Keep  up  your  courage,  Helen,"  said  her  friend,  gently 
pressing  her  hand.  *'  I  can  understand  your  feelings,  for  I 
have  passed  through  a  similar  ordeal.  It  is  a  trial,  but  one 
through  which  you  will  pass  triumphantly.  You  have  only 
to  fancy  that  you  are  singing  in  your  own  room  at  homo. 
Make  a  resolute  effort,  and  you  will  succeed." 

"I  will  try,"  said  Helen,  more  composed. 

"Miss  Ford!" 

It  was  the  call-boy's  voice,  and  she  hurried  to  the  place 
from  which  she  was  to  make  her  entrance  upon  the  stage. 
Another  moment  and  she  stood  before  the  audience.  There 
was  something  so  sweet  and  simple  in  her  loveliness,  that  a 
general  murmur  of  approbation  was  heard,  and  then  there 
was  a  round  of  applause.  This  came  near  unnerving  Helen. 
She  caught  a  glimpse  of  the  sea  of  faces  that  were  turned 
towards  her,  and  her  head  began  to  whirl.  But  Mrs. 
Girdle's  reassuring  words  came  back  to  her.  Above  all, 
the  thought  of  her  father,  in  whose  behalf  she  had  taken 


HELEN'S  DEBUT.  88 

this  step,  inspired  her  with  a  determination  to  succeed. 
The  blush  of  momentary  embarrassment  which  suffused  her 
face  did  her  no  harm.  It  enlisted  the  warm  sympathy  of 
the  audience,  who  again  exhibited  their  good-will  by  a  fresh 
outbreak  of  applause. 

There  was  one  present,  however,  who  gazed  at  Helen  as 
if  petrified  with  astonishment. 

"  Look !  "  ejaculated  M'lle  Fanchette,  convulsively  clutch- 
ing the  arm  of  her  companion.  "  If  there  isn't  Helen  Ford 
on  the  stage.    I  can  scarcely  believe  my  eyes." 

"  I  believe  you  are  right,"  returned  the  young  gentleman 
addressed.  "I  had  no  idea  she  was  connected  with  the 
theatre." 

"  It  can't  be  possible  she's  going  to  sing  I "  ejaculated 
ITUe  Fanchette.     "  Well,  if  ever " 

Just  then  the  music  struck  up. 

In  a  voice  slightly  tremulous,  but  gaining  in  strength  as 
she  proceeded,  Helen  commenced.  There  was  no  fear  of 
failure  now.  She  had  forgotten  the  audience.  She  sang 
with  all  the  freedom  and  joyousness  of  a  bird,  as  if  her 
whole  heart  was  in  the  song.  There  was  an  indefinable  charm 
about  her  manner,  so  thoroughly  natural  in  its  simplicity. 
She  was  evidently  winning  golden  opinions. 

As  tlis  last  note  died  away,  a  storm  of  applause  greeted 
her  from  all  parts  of  the  house.  This  recalled  Helen  to 
herself.  No  longer  occupied  by  the  song,  she  gazed  around 
her  half  bewildered,  with  the  air  of  a  startled  fawn.  At 
this  moment  a  magnificent  bouquet,  thrown  from  one  of  the 
boxes,  alighted  at  her  feet.  Too  little  accustomed  to  the 
stage  to  understand  that  it  was  meant  for  her,  she  was  about 
to  withdraw  without  taking  it,  when  a  hoarse  whisper  was 
heard  from  one  of  the  wings,  "  Pick  it  up." 

Mechanically  she  obeyed  the  direction,  and  bowing  has- 


84  HELEN    FOKD. 

tily,  her  cheeks  burning  with  confusion,  she  retreated  fix>m 
the  stage. 

The  manager  met  her. 

*^  You  have  done  very  well,  Miss  Ford,"  he  said,  encour- 
agingly. "  They  are  calling  you  back.  You  must  go  on 
the  stage  once  more.  And  mind  you  don't  undo  the  favoiv 
able  impression  you  have  already  produced." 

Go  back  again !  Helen's  heart  fluttered  nervously,  but 
there  was  no  appeal.  She  drew  a  long  breath,  and  went 
back. 

Her  re-appearance  was  greeted  with  enthusiasm.  Then 
followed  a  profound  silence  —  a  hush  of  expectation.  The 
clear  voice  of  Helen  once  more  broke  the  stillness,  as  she 
re-commenced  her  song.  Helen's  eyes  were  directed  towards 
the  audience,  but  she  saw  them  not.  She  was  carried  back 
in  memory  to  the  time  when  she  sang  this  song  at  her 
mother's  knee,  and  unconsciously  a  gentle  pathos  and  tone 
of  repressed  feeling  blended  with  her  notes  that  touched 
the  audience,  and  hushed  them  to  earnest  attention. 

There  was  a  hard-featured  Scotchman  who  sat  in  one  of 
the  front  seats  in  the  parquet,  who,  listening  intently,  fur- 
tively wiped  a  tear  from  his  eye. 

"  She's  a  sweet  lassie,"  he  said,  in  a  low  tone,  to  his 
neighbor.  "  There's  a  look  about  her  that  minds  me  of  one 
I  shall  never  see  again." 

And  the  worthy  Scotchman,  whose  heart  was  tender, 
though  his  manner  was  rough  and  his  features  hard,  thought 
sadly  of  a  flower  that  once  bloomed  in  his  home,  but  had 
faded  early,  —  transplanted  to  the  gardens  of  Paradise. 

"  Well  I  "  remarked  M'Ue  Fanchette,  fanning  herself  vio- 
lently, "  to  think  of  the  forwardness  of  that  child.  If  she 
had  any  modesty,  she  wouldn't  brazen  it  out  before  the 
public  with  so  much  boldness." 

"  She  seems  modest  enough,"  replied  Alphonso  Eustace, 


HELEN'S  DEBUT.  85 

to  whom  this  remark  was  addressed,  "  and  she  certainly 
sings  magnificently.    Her  voice  is  superb." 

*'  I  saw  nothing  very  remarkable  about  her  singing,"  re- 
turned the  lady,  fanning  herself  with  increased  violence. 
"  I  suppose  there  are  other  people  that  have  voices  as  well 
as  she.  I  used  to  sing  myself,  but  nothing  on  earth  would 
have  tempted  me  to  make  such  a  public  exhibition  of 
myself." 

Her  companion  thought  it  extremely  doubtful  whether 
M^lle  Fanchette  would  ever  be  tempted  to  break  her  reso- 
lution, but  thought  it  most  prudent  to  remain  silent. 

Meanwhile,  Helen  was  greeted  in  a  very  different  manner 
behind  the  scenes.  Mrs.  Girdle  came  forward,  and  con- 
gratulated her  with  a  beaming  smile  upon  her  success. 

"  You  have  done  beautifully,  my  dear  child.  Were  you 
frightened  when  you  first  went  on  ?  " 

"  A  little ;  but  I  remembered  your  words,  and  I  succeeded 
in  forgetting  the  audience.  I  am  so  glad  you  think  I  did 
weU." 

"  You  couldn't  have  done  better." 

Of  course,  Helen  was  pleased  and  Jiappy ,  —  happy  in  the 
thought  that  she  had  pleased  those  who  were  interested  for 
her.  The  thought  that  she  had  personally  achieved  a  tri- 
umph never  presented  itself  to  her.  For,  in  spite  of  her 
splendid  endowments,  she  was  singularly  free  fr'om  vanity, 
or  even  from  the  consciousness  which  would  have  led  to  such 
a  feeling.  Her  chief  thought  was,  that  she  should  now  be 
enabled  to  contribute  to  her  father's  comforts  by  her  pay  at 
the  theatre,  and  that  thus  he  would  be  able  to  keep  on  with 
his  labors,  and  perfect  his  invention. 

Late  at  night  she  reached  her  humble  lodging.  Her  father 
was  already  sleeping.  Quickly  undressing  herself,  she  crept 
softly  into  bed,  and  in  five  minutes  the  weary  child  was 
sleepmg  also. 


CHAPTER  Xm. 

ABSEin:    OK    BUSINESS. 

The  afternoon  was  already  well  advanced  wlien  Richard 
Sharp  rose  leisurely  from  the  arm-chair  in  which  he  had  been 
lounging.  He  threw  aside  the  stump  of  a  cigar  which  he  had 
been  smoking,  and  walking  to  the  window,  looked  out. 

"  I  wonder  if  it  is  going  to  rain,"  he  thought.  "  I  must 
raise  an  umbrella  somewhere." 

After  passing  his  fingers  through  his  bristling  locks,  which 
had  the  effect  of  giving  each  particular  hair  an  upward 
tendency,  —  a  favorite  habit  of  Mr.  Sharp,  who  regards  it 
perhaps  as  the  sign  of  an  aspiring  intellect,  —  our  attorney 
put  on  his  white  hat  and,  opening  the  door  of  his  office, 
stepped  out  upon  the  landing.  Before  locking  the  door  he 
carefully  affixed  a  card  bearing  upon  it,  in  bold  characters, 
"Absent  on  Business."  Mr.  Sharp  never  dispenses  with 
this  little  formality,  even  when  he  is  only  going  round  the 
comer  to  order  an  oyster-stew,  or  to  a  neighboring  hotel  to 
while  away  an  hour  at  billiards.  Entertaining  broad  and 
philosophic  views  of  life,  h6  regards  any  action,  however 
trivial,  in  the  light  of  business ;  and  with  this  idea  feels 
abundantly  justified  in  leaving  behind  him  this  standing 
notice.    And  who  shall  say  he  is  not  right? 

It  chanced  on  this  particular  occasion,  however,  that  Mr, 
Sharp's  business  was  really  of  a  professional  character. 

On  the  stairs  our  lawyer  met  a  stout,  puffy  little  coun- 
sellor, whose  business  yielded  him  probably  an  income  of 
from  eight  to  ten  thousand  dollars  a  year.    Mr.  Sharp 


ABSENT  ON  BUSINESS.  87 

bo'WTjd  with  a  mixture  of  condescension  and  affability. 
Passing  a  door  on  a  lower  floor,  lie  noticed  an  umbrella 
standing  outside.  Was  it  in  a  fit  of  absence  of  mind  that 
Mr.  Sharp  appropriated  it,  and  with  innocent  unconscious- 
ness raised  it  above  his  head  when  he  got  into  the  street? 
If  so,  his  temporary  abstraction  served  him  in  good  stead 
since  the  rain  was  already''  beginning  to  fall. 

Reaching  the  street  he  was  accosted  by  a  newsboy  who 
was  anxious  to  place  in  his  hands  a  sheet  containing  a  record 
of  all  the  latest  news  that  had  transpired  in  both  hemi- 
spheres —  and  all  for  the  insignificant  sum  of  five  cents ! 
Mr.  Sharp  took  the  paper.  He  then  began  to  fumble  about 
in  his  pocket  for  the  required  change. 

*'  Bless  me  I "  he  exclaimed,  after  two  or  three  dives 
which  brought  forth  nothing,  "  I  believe  on  my  soul  that  I 
haven't  got  any  change.  Such  a  ridiculously  small  sum, 
too!" 

He  looked  pensively  at  the  boy,  who  gazed  at  him  in 
return  in  patient  expectation. 

After  a  moment's  pause  the  lawyer  explained,  suddenly, 
"  Perhaps  you  can  change  a  fifty  ?  " 

"  Half  a  dollar ! "  said  the  boy,  briskly,  "  Oh,  yes  I  "  and 
he  forthwith  pulled  out  a  handful  of  small  silver  pieces 
mingled  with  pennies. 

"  My  young  friend,"  remarked  Mr.  Sharp,  graciously, 
''  I  meant  a  fifty-dollar  bill." 

The  newsboy  whistled.  "Perhaps  you  take  me  for  a 
bank,"  he  remarked.  "  I  can't  change  no  fifties.  I  can 
change  a  one  or  a  two  may  be." 

"My  boy,"  said  the  attorney,  with  a  gentle  intonation. 
"  I  nevei  carry  small  bills  about  with  me.  K  you  will  call 
on  me  to-morrow,  I  will  take  another  paper." 

The  little  newsboy  looked  in  bewilderment  after  the  re- 
treating form  of  Mr.  Sharp.    There  was  something  wrong 


88  HELEN   FOBD. 

nnqnestionably.  He  had  parted  with  his  paper,  and  had 
not  obtaiaed  an  equivalent.  But  how  could  he  summon  up 
confidence  to  dun  a  man  of  such  magnificent  conceptions 
that  a  bill  representing  his  entire  capital  would  be  too  small 
for  him  to  carry  about. 

"  rd  a  good  deal  rather  trade  with  people  that  ain't  so 
darned  rich,"  thought  the  newsboy,  ruefully. 

Then  it  occurred  to  him  that  his  customer  had  asked  him 
to  call  the  next  day,  and  he  had  not  been  told  where  to  call. 
Mr.  Sharp  was  still  near,  and  he  determined  to  run  after  him 
and  inquire. 

In  a  nunute  or  two  the  lawyer  was  made  sensible  of  a 
slight  tuggiug  at  his  coat-tail.  Looking  around,  his  eye 
rested  on  the  little  newsboy. 

"  Well,  my  friend,"  said  he,  blandly,  "  in  what  way  can  I 
serve  you?" 

"  You  asked  me  to  leave  you  a  paper  to-morrow,  but  I 
don't  know  where  you  live." 

"  O  yes,  certainly,"  said  Mr.  Sharp,  "  how  could  I  be  so 
neglectful  ?  You  will  find  me  at  any  time  in  my  office,  third 
story,  round  the  corner.  Anybody  will  tell  you  where. 
And  now,  as  I  am  called  away  upon  important  business,  I 
shall  be  coirpelled  to  request  you  to  release  your  hold  upon 
my  coat-tail." 

So  saying  he  smiled  benignantly,  and  walked  away. 

"  '  Third  story,  round  the  comer ; ' "  slowly  repeated  the 
boy.  " '  Anybody  will  tell  me !*  What  comer,  Fd  like  to 
know?  And  how  m  thunder  am  I  to  know  what  third  story 
it  is,  and  who  I  am  to  ask  for  when  I  find  it  ?  " 

The  young  merchant  shook  his  head  dubiously  as  these 
formidable  queries  suggested  themselves  to  him,  and  came 
to  the  conclusion  that  he  was  no  better  off  than  before  he 
inquired. 

Meanwhile  Mr.  Sharp  pursued  his  way,  smiling  compla- 


ABSENT   ON  BUSINESS.  89 

cently  aa  he  thouglit  of  the  admirable  maimer  in  which  he 
had  obtained  possession  of  the  ne^Epaper  without  rendering 
an  equivalent. 

"You're  a  shrewd  fellow,  Sharp,'*  said  he  to  himself. 
"There  are  not  many  who  would  have  managed  it  so 
cleverly." 

Mr.  Sharp  kept  on  his  way  with  quiet  dignity,  dispensing 
affable  smiles  to  such  acquaintances  as  he  met.  Sometimes 
his  smiles  were  returned  with  cold  nods,  by  such  as  were 
familiar  with  his  unscrupulous  character ;  but  our  lawyer  was 
on  such  good  terms  with  himself,  that  these  little  rebuQs 
appeared  to  have  no  effect  upon  him.  At  length  he  paused 
before  Mrs.  Morton's  boarding-house.  Opening  the  outer 
door,  he  ascended  three  flights  of  stairs  until  he  reached  Mr. 
Ford's  apartment.  He  knocked,  but  although  sounds  were 
heard  from  within  there  was  no  response.  Rightly  judging 
that  Mr.  Ford  was  so  preoccupied  that  he  had  not  heard  or 
noticed  the  knock,  he  knocked  again,  this  time  louder.  As 
this  too  was  disregarded,  he  opened  the  door  softly  and 
went  in. 

It  was  the  afternoon  preceding  Helen's  d^but  at  the 
theatre,  and  this  accounted  for  her  absence.  Mr.  Sharp  was 
secretly  glad  to  find  it  so,  judging  that  Helen's  presence 
might  possibly  interfere  with  his  object  in  calling. 

"  Mr.  Ford,"  he  said,  bowing  benignantly,  as  that  gentle- 
man chanced  to  look  up,  "  I  beg  you  will  pardon  my  enter- 
ing so  unceremoniously.  I  have  availed  myself  of  the  polite 
invitation  you  so  kindly  extended  some  days  since,  to  look 
in  upon  you  and  observe  your  progress.  I  knocked  twice, 
but  understanding  that  you  were  too  absorbed  to  hear  it,  I 
took  the  liberty  of  opening  the  door  without  leave." 

Mr.  Ford  politely  expressed  his  pleasure  at  seeing  him, 
though  it  required  an  effort  on  his  part  to  recall  the  name 
of  his  visitor,  or  the  circumstances  under  which  they  had 

8* 


90  HELSK    FOBD. 

first  mfet.  "  In  spite  of  my  numerous  engagements,"  resumed 
Mr.  Sharp,  "  I  could  not  forego  the  pleasure  of  looking  in 
upon  you  at  your  labors.  I  have  many  times  blessed  the 
chance  which  procured  me  the  acquaintance  of  yourself  and 
your  amiable  daughter.  I  look  upon  you,  my  dear  sir,  as 
engaged  in  a  work  of  infinite  importance  to  society,  and  to 
the  welfare  of  the  human  race.  And  in  after  years,  when 
posterity  shall  have  done  ample  justice  to  your  merits,  when 
your  name  has  been  elevated  to  its  appropriate  place  beside 
those  of  Watt  and  Franklin  —  and  —  Christopher  Columbus, 
it  will  be  my  proudest  boast  that  I  recognized  your  claims 
to  the  world's  gratitude  in  advance  of  others." 

To  Mr.  Ford,  who  was  thoroughly  convinced  of  the  prac- 
ticability of  his  invention,  and  its  great  importance  to  the 
world,  this  language  did  not  seem  extravagant.  Never 
doubting  his  visitor's  sincerity,  he  could  not  but  feel  grate- 
ftil  for  the  meed  of  encouragement  to  which  he  was  a 
stranger.  At  the  request  of  Mr.  Sharp  he  began  to  explain 
some  of  the  chief  features  in  his  invention,  the  lawyer  listen- 
ing with  the  greatest  apparent  interest. 

*'  It  is  admirable ! "  he  exclaimed,  with  enthusiasm.  "Take 
my  word  for  it,  it  must  and  will  succeed.  But  pardon  me 
for  suggesting  that  with  better  materials  your  model  would 
be  likely  to  prove  more  satisfactory.  An  inventor  should 
be  able  to  command  large  means  in  order  to  perfect  his 
plans." 

"  Of  that  I  am  aware,"  said  Mr.  Ford,  with  hesitation. 
"  But,  as  you  have  no  doubt  inferred,  from  the  style  in  which 
Helen  and  I  live,  my  means  are  very  limited." 

"No  more,"  said  Mr.  Sharp,  warmly,  "I  anticipate  all 
that  you  would  say.  "Yet,  if  you  will  pardon  me  the 
question,  why  do  you  not  apply  to  your  friends  for  a  loan  ?  " 

Mr.  Ford  shook  his  head,  smiling  faintly.  "  It  would  be 
of  no  use,"  he  said. 


ABSENT   ON  BUSINESS.  91 

"  Sir,"  said  the  worthy  attorney,  grasping  the  hand  of 
the  inventor  with  an  effusion  of  emotion,  "  you  do  your 
Mends  injustice.  To  convince  you  of  it,  I,  the  unworthiest 
of  those  whose  proud  privilege  it  is  to  bear  that  title,  offer 
to  loan  you  two  hundred  dollars.     It  is  not  much " 

"But,  my  dear  sir " 

"  No,  sir,  you  shall  not  object.  I  am  determined  to  con- 
nect my  name  in  some  way  with  this  important  discovery. 
To  satisfy  your  scruples,  I  will  consent  to  your  signing  this 
note  for  the  amount.  You  may  affix  your  signature  while  I 
am  counting  the  money." 

"  But  I  may  never  be  able  to  pay  you." 

"  That  risk  is  mine.  I  ask  no  security.  I  claim  no  inter- 
est. It  is  enough  that  in  this  way  I  am  able  to  link  my 
name  with  modest  merit,  and  aid  in  bringing  forward  a  dis- 
covery which  will  prove  of  incalculable  benefit  to  mankind." 

Poor  Mr.  Ford  1  He  was  tempted  beyond  his  power  of 
resistance.  This  timely  aid  would  enable  him  to  carry  out 
plans  which  he  thought  likely  to  expedite  his  final  triumph. 
Yes,  he  would  accept  what  was  so  generally  proffered.  A 
little  while  and  he  would  be  able  to  repay  the  loan  with 
interest.     So  at  least  he  was  sanguine  enough  to  think. 

"  I  cannot  thank  you  sufficiently,"  he  said,  warmly,  "  for 
this  mark  of  generous  'and  disinterested  friendship  towards  a 
comparative  stranger.  The  delicacy  with  which  you  tender 
this  loan  removes  all  the  objections  I  might  otherwise  have 
to  receiving  it.    Again  I  thank  you." 

He  signed  the  note  and  handed  it  to  IMr.  Sharp,  who  took 
from  his  pocket-book  the  sum  mentioned  and  laid  it  on  the 
table.  The  lawyer  put  the  note  into  his  pocket,  saying,  as 
he  did  so,  "  This  strip  of  paper  is  to  me  of  inestimable  value 
in  so  far  as  it  connects  me  with  one  whose  name,  I  am  sure, 
will  be  handed  down  to  fame  as  one  of  the  greatest  of  modem 
inventors.    But,  sir,  my  mission  is  accomplished,  I  will  not 


92  HSLEN    FOSD. 

ftirther  trespass  npon  your  valuable  time.  I  trast  you  will 
not  scruple  to  use  freely  the  money  I  have  advanced  for  the 
ftuiiherance  of  your  great  purpose.  I  shall  claim  the  privi- 
lege of  sometimes  looking  in  upon  you  and  witnessing  your 
progress." 

"You  will  always  be  most  welcome/'  said  Mr.  Ford, 
oordiaUy. 

"  Rather  a  clever  operation  that  I "  thought  Mr.  Sharp,  as 
he  threaded  his  way  down  stau's.  "It  was  a  capital  idea, 
making  out  the  note  for  three  hundred  dollars  and  only  pay- 
ing him  two.  I  knew  he  would  never  detect  it  After  all, 
the  extra  hundred  will  do  more  good  in  my  hands  than  in 
Ford's,  who  would  only  waste  it  on  his  crazy  invention.  My 
client  will  never  be  the  wiser.  By  the  way,  he  must  have 
some  deep  scheme  on  foot,  or  he  would  never  throw  away 
such  a  sum  on  a  crack-brained  enthusiast.  I  think,  old 
fellow,  you've  earned  a  good  oyster-supper,  with  a  glass  or 
so  to  make  it  go  down.  Talking  has  made  me  as  dry  as  a 
herring." 

And  the  benevolent  Mr.  Sharp,  who  was  so  anxious  to 
connect  his  name  with  an  important  discovery  in  science, 
gravely  entered  a  neighboring  saloon  and  called  for  some- 
thing to  drink.    Human  nature  is  not  at  all  times  heroic 


CHAPTER   XIV, 

HELEN  MAKES   KNOWN  HEB  ENGAaEMENT. 

It  was  again  morning.  Helen  sat  at  the  window,  whicb 
was  thrown  wide  open  to  admit  the  pleasant  breeze  that 
rustled  in  and  out  like  a  restless  sprite,  laden,  not  with  rich 
odors  and  sweet  perfumes  from  green  fields,  but  resonant 
with  the  noises  of  the  crowded  city  streets. 

There  was  an  expression  of  doubt  and  perplexity  in 
Helen's  face.  She  was  considering  whether  it  would  be  pos- 
sible to  make  known  to  her  father  her  engagement  at  the 
theatre,  without,  at  the  same  time,  revealing  the  motive 
which  had  led  her  to  seek  it.  She  was  assured  that  her 
father  would  feel  deeply  pained  if  he  knew  the  real  state  of 
the  case,  and  she  dreaded  that  he  might  object  to  her  keep- 
ing her  engagement.  WhUe  she  was  hesitating,  her  father 
suddenly  turned  from  his  work  and  met  her  glance. 

"A  penny  for  your  thoughts,  Helen,"  he  said,  with 
unwonted  playfulness. 

"My  thoughts  I"  and  she  blushed  consciously.  "I  am 
afraid,  papa,  they  are  not  worth  so  much." 

"  How  cool  and  refreshing  is  the  air  I "  mused  Mr.  Ford, 
as  he  stood  for  a  moment  at  the  window.  "  Mark  how 
beautifully  the  clouds  are  tinged  with  the  faintest  flush  of 
red.  Well  have  the  old  poets  spoken  of  morning  as  '  rosy- 
fingered.*    Would  you  like  to  go  out  for  a  walk,  Helen?" 

Helen  looked  up  at  the  clock.  It  lacked  yet  two  hours  of 
the  time  for  rehearsal.  There  would  be  plenty  of  time  for 
a  walk,  which,  with  her  father,  was  never  a  long  one. 

93 


94  HELEN    FORD. 

"Perhaps  I  shall  be  able  to  say  something  about  my 
engagement,  on  the  way,"  she  thought. 

She  silently  got  her  bonnet,  and,  placing  her  hand  in  that 
of  her  father,  descended  the  stairs  into  the  street.  Here  all 
was  life  and  activity.  In  the  early  morning  of  a  pleasant 
day  the  streets  of  a  great  city  present  a  pleasant  and  cheer- 
ful aspect.  Everything  is  full  of  stir  and  bustle.  Even  the 
jaded  dray-horse  pricks  up  his  ears,  and  shows  some  signs  of 
life.  Boys  and  girls  expend  their  superabundant  activity  in 
bounding  along  the  sidewalk,  and  even  the  man  of  business 
seems  lightened  of  a  portion  of  his  cares.  There  is  a  subtile 
electricity  in  the  air,  which  unconsciously  affects  the  spirits 
of  all,  and  lights  up  many  faces  with  vague  hopefulness. 

Helen  yielded  herself  up  to  the  influences  of  the  morning, 
and  a  quiet  sense  of  happiness  stole  over  her.  She  thought 
how  beautiful  in  itself  is  the  gift  of  life,  and  how  glad  we 
ought  to  be  for  the  bright  sunshine,  and  the  clear,  refreshing 
air,  and  the  beautiful  earth.  The  conflicts  of  life  were  lost 
sight  of.  She  forgot,  in  the  exhilaration  of  her  spirits,  that 
the  days  were  sometimes  dark,  and  the  clouds  leaden.  Her 
father  seemed  aflected  in  a  similar  way.  A  faint  flush 
crept  to  his  wan  cheek,  and  his  step  became  more  elastic. 

"How  the  difficulties  and  embarrassments  of  our  daily 
lives  fade  away  in  this  glorious  sunshine  I "  he  said,  mus- 
ingly. "  Sometimes  I  have  had  fears  that  my  discovery 
would  never  prove  available ;  but  to-day  success  seems 
almost  within  my  grasp.  It  would  be  a  sin  to  doubt,  when 
all  Nature  whispers  auguries  of  hope." 

"  You  must  succeed,  papa,"  said  Helen,  cheerfully.  ' 

"  So  I  feel  now.  I  catch  the  inspiration  of  this  cooling 
breeze.  It  breathes  new  life  into  me.  It  gives  me  fresh 
courage  to  work,  for  the  end  draws  near." 

Mr.  Ford  relapsed  into  silence,  and  Helen  walked  quietly 


HELEN  MAKES  KNOWN  HEB  ENGAGEMENT.  95 

by  his  side,  occupied  with  her  own  thoughts.  All  at  once 
she  became  sensible  that  she  had  attracted  the  attention  of 
a  little  knot  of  boys,  who  were  conversing  together  in  a  low 
tone,  pointing  first  to  her,  and  then  to  a  large  placard 
posted  conspicuously  on  the  wall  beside  her. 

"  That's  she  ! "  she  heard  pronounced  in  an  audible  voice. 
**  I  saw  her  last  night." 

Following  the  direction  of  their  fingers,  she  started  in  sur- 
prise on  reading,  in  large  capitals,  her  own  name.  It  was 
the  bill  of  the  evening's  entertainment  in  the  theatre  at 
which  she  was  engaged.  The  surprise  was  so  unexpected, 
that  she  uttered  a  half-exclamation,  which,  however,  was 
sufficient  to  draw  her  father's  attention  to  the  bill. 

THB  TALENTED  TOUNQ  VOCALIST, 

MISS  HELEN  FORDy 

"WILL  MAKB  HEB  SECOND  APPEARANCE  THIS  EVENING  IN  A  POPULAB  SONG. 

"  It  is  very  strange,"  said  Mr.  Ford,  stopping  short  as  he 
read  this  announcement ;  "  some  one  having  the  same  name 
with  you,  Helen  ?  " 

"  No,  papa,"  said  she,  in  a  low  voice. 

"  No  ?  "  repeated  her  father,  in  surprise.  "  Then  you 
don't  see  the  name." 

"  Will  you  promise  not  to  be  angry  with  me,  papa,  if  I 
teU  you  all." 

"  Angry  I    Am  I  often  angry  with  you,  Helen  ?  " 

"  No,  no  I  I  did  not  mean  that.  But  perhaps  you  will 
think  I  have  done  wrong." 

"  I  am  still  in  the  dark,  Helen." 

"  Then,"  said  the  young,  girl,  hurriedly,  and  with  flushed 
face,  ^^  that  is  my  name.  I  am  the  Helen  Ford  whose  name 
is  on  tne  bill." 


96  HXLEN   FOBD. 

"  You,  Helen  I "  exclaimed  her  father,  in  undisguised 
amazement. 

"  Yes,  papa.  I  have  been  wanting  to  tell  you  all  this 
morning ;  but  I  hardly  knew  how." 

"  I  don't  understand.    Have  you  ever  sung  there?" 

"  Last  night,  for  the  first  time." 

Helen  proceeded  to  give  her  father  a  circumstantial 
account  of  her  interview  with  the  manager,  her  repulse  at 
first,  and  her  subsequent  engagement.  She  added  that  she 
had  hesitated  to  tell  him,  lest  he  should  object  to  her  accept- 
ing it.  She  next  spoke  of  her  first  appearance  upon  the 
stage,  —  how  at  first  she  was  terrified  at  sight  of  the 
crowded  audience,  but  had  succeeded  in  overcoming  her 
timidity,  and  lost  all  consciousness  of  her  trying  position  in 
the  enjoyment  of  singing. 

"  You  have  forgotten  one  thing,  Helen,"  said  her  father, 
gravely.  "  You  have  not  told  me  what  first  gave  you  the 
idea  of  singing  in  public." 

"  It  was  Martha,"  said  Helen,  in  some  embarrassment,  fore- 
seeing what  was  coming.  "  One  day  I  sang  in  her  room, 
and  she  was  so  well  pleased,  that  she  told  me  I  might  one 
day  become  a  public  singer." 

"  And  that  was  all,  Helen  ?  " 

"What  else  should  there  be,  papa?"  she  answered, 
evasively. 

"  Indeed,  I  do  not  know.  I  thought  it  might  be  because 
you  supposed  we  were  poor,  and  wished  to  earn  some  money. 
Bui  you  see,  Helen,  there  is  no  need  of  that ; "  and  he  drew 
out  his  pocket-book,  and  displayed  to  the  child's  astonished 
gaze  the  roll  of  biUs  which  Mr.  Sharp  had  insisted  on  loazi* 
ing  him  the  day  previous. 

"  Indeed,  papa,  I  had  no  idea  you  were  so  rich." 

"  A  kind  friend  lent  me  this  money  yesterday.** 

"  Who  was  it,  papa?  " 


HELEN  MAKES  KKOWN  HEB  ENGAGEMENT.  97 

"  You  remember  a  man  who  came  to  see  us  a  fortnight 
since,  —  a  tall  man  with  a  white  hat?  ' 

"  Yes,  papa." 

"  He  lent  me  the  money." 

"  Did  you  ask  him,  papa?  " 

"  No ;  it  was  his  own  generous  offer.** 

"  But  suppose  he  should  want  you  to  pay  it  by  and 
by,  and  you  did  not  have  the  money?",  suggested  Helen, 
uneasily. 

"  There  is  no  fear  on  that  score.  He  desires  to  assist  me 
with  my  invention,  and  suggested,  very  properly,  that  with 
improved  materials  my  progress  would  become  more  rapid. 
Once  let  me  succeed,  and  I  shall  be  able  to  repay  the  loan, 
if  it  were  twice  as  large.  He  will  never  think  of  asking  me 
for  it  before.  He  is  a  very  generous-hearted  man,  Helen, 
and  he  only  called  it  a  loan  because  he  knew  that  I  should 
be  unwilling  to  accept  a  gift." 

Helen  could  not  gainsay  her  father's  words.  She  could 
not  conceive  of  any  evil  purpose  on  the  part  of  "hlr.  Sharp ; 
yet,  somehow,  an  unaccountable  sense  of  anxiety  and  appre- 
hension of  coming  evil,  in  connection  with  this  loan,  would 
force  itself  upon  her  mind. 

"  Perhaps,"  said  Mr.  Ford,  with  a  sudden  thought,  "  you 
may  need  something  that  I  can  buy  you,  —  some  article  of 
dress,  or  perhaps  you  may  require  an  additional  sum  for 
the  purchase  of  our  daily  necessaries.  I  am  so  much  occu- 
pied in  other  ways  that  I  do  not  always  think  of  these 
things." 

"No,  papa,"  said  Helen,  hurriedly.  "I  do  not  need 
anythiug  " 

Then,  yielding  to  an  uncontrollable  impulse,  she  ex- 
claimed, "  Dear  papa,  do  not  use  any  of  this  money.  Pray, 
return  it  to  this  man,  and  tell  him  you  do  not  need  it.*' 

"But  it  will  be  very  useful  to  me,  Helen.    Besides,  it 


98  HELEN    FOBD. 

would  be  a  very  uncivil  way  of  meeting  sucli  a  generous 
offer.  You  are  a  foolish  child.  What  has  put  this  fancy 
into  your  head?" 

"  I  don't  know,"  said  Helen,  slowly ;  "  but  I  feel  as  if  thi« 
money  may  do  us  some  harm." 

"  What  possible  harm  can  come  of  it  ?  "  asked  Mr.  Ford, 
surprised  at  the  child's  earnestness. 

"  I  do  not  like  to  think  that  you  are  in  anybody's  power, 
papa." 

"  We  are  all  in  the  power  of  God,  my  child." 

"  I  did  not  mean  that,  papa." 

"  And  He  is  abundantly  able  to  shield  us  from  evil.  Is  it 
not  so,  Helen  ?  " 

Helen  was  silenced,  but  not  wholly  convinced.  This  was 
the  more  remarkable,  since  nothing  was  more  foreign  to  her 
nature  than  to  cherish  distrust  of  any  living  thing.  Even 
now,  her  feeling  was  rather  an  instinctive  foreboding  than 
any  clearly-defined  suspicion.  The  presence  of  Mr.  Sharp, 
polite  and  affable  as  he  appeared,  had  not  impressed  her 
pleasantly,  —  why,  she  could  not  tell.  Oftentimes  children 
are  truer  in  their  instinctive  perception  of  character  than 
their  elders.  It  is  fortunate  that,  in  the  absence  of  that 
knowledge  which  experience  alone  can  give,  they  should  be 
provided  with  this  safeguard  against  the  evil  designs  of  those 
who  might  injure  them. 

Nine  o'clock  pealed  from  the  lofty  steeple  of  Trinity. 
Helen  heard  the  strokes  as  one  by  one  they  rang  out  upon 
the  air,  and  she  was  warned  of  the  near  approach  of  the 
hour  for  rehearsal. 

"  It  is  nearly  time  for  rehearsal,"  she  said,  looking  up  la 
her  father's  face.     "  Shall  I  go  ?  " 

"  Do  you  really  wish  to  go,  Helen?  " 

"  I  really  wish  it,  papa.'* 

"  Then  I  will  not  interfere  to  prevent  you.    I  hxve  to 


HELEN  MAKES  KNOWS   HER  ENGAGEMENT.        99 

much  confidence  in  you,  my  child,  that  I  am  willing  to  trust 
you  where  others  might  suffer  harm." 

The  father  and  child  parted.  One  returned  to  his  humble 
lodging  in  the  fourth  story  back  j  the  other  wended  her  ^ijr 
to  the  theatre. 


CHAPTER  XV. 

THE  OPPOSITE  LODGER. 

DuEiNQ  the  day  Helen,  in  ascending  the  stairs,  encoun- 
tered M'lle  Fanchette. 

"So  you  have  become  quite  a  public  character,  Miss 
Ford,"  said  the  modiste,  superciliously. 

Helen  looked  up,  but  did  not  speak. 

*'  I  heard  you  sing  at  the  theatre,  last  evening." 

"  Yes,  madam." 

"  NothiQg  would  have  induced  me  to  come  forward  so 
publicly  at  your  age.  However,  I  suppose  you  don't  mind 
it." 

"  No,"  said  Helen,  with  rising  color ;  "  I  don't  mind  it, 
since  it  enables  me  to  earn  money  for  my  father." 

"  Isn't  your  father  well?  It  isn't  usual  for  children  to  be 
called  upon  to  support  their  parents." 

"  Good  morning,  M'lle  Fanchette,"  said  Helen,  abruptly. 
The  implied  censure  upon  her  father  kindled  her  resentment 
as  no  insult  to  herself  would  have  done. 

M'lle  Fanchette  looked  after  her  with  a  sneer.  "  So  my 
lady  is  putting  on  airs,  is  she  ?  I  don't  believe  her  father's 
invention  will  ever  come  to  anything.  Perhaps  I  had  better 
take  no  further  notice  of  her." 

Just  as  Helen  reached  the  door  of  her  father's  room,  she 
saw  the  occupant  of  the  opposite  apartment  standing  at  his 
door.  He  was  a  young  man  of  middle  height,  with  a  face 
whose  boyish  bloom  had  hardly  given  place  to  the  more 
mature  expression  of  manhood. 

100 


THE  OPPOSITE  LODGEB.  101 

"  Good  morning,  Miss  Ford,"  he  said,  pleasantly. 

"  Good  morning,  Mr.  Coleman." 

"  I  was  just  about  to  ask  a  favor  of  you  and  your  father." 

Helen  thought  he  might  be  intending  to  ask  a  loan  of 
some  little  article,  for  it  had  come  to  her  knowledge  that  he 
was  boarding  himself. 

"  I  am  sure  we  shall  be  happy  to  grant  it,"  she  said,  cheer- 
ftiUy. 

"  I  suppose  you  know  that  I  am  an  artist,  or  trying  to 
be,"  said  the  young  man.  "  I  have  just  finished  a  picture 
for  exhibition  at  the  Academy.  No  one  has  seen  it  yet,  and 
I,  perhaps,  am  not  a  fair  judge  of  its  merits.  I  should  be 
very  glad  if  you  and  Mr.  Ford  would  take  a  look  at  it,  and 
favor  me  with  your  opinion  of  it." 

"  I  shall  be  delighted  to  see  it,  and  so  will  papa,  I  know," 
returned  Helen.     "  I  will  speak  to  him  immediately." 

"Papa,"  she  said,  entering  the  room,  "Mr.  Coleman  is 
kind  enough  to  invite  us  to  look  at  a  picture  he  has  painted." 

"  I  beg  your  pardon,  my  dear,"  said  Mr.  Ford,  looking  up 
abstractedly.     "Did  you  speak?" 

Helen  repeated  the  invitation. 

"  I  shall  be  most  happy,"  said  Mr.  Ford,  courteously. 
"  Let  us  go  at  once." 

The  opposite  room  was  fitted  up  as  an  artist's  studio,  — 
plainly  enough,  for  young  Coleman  was,  as  yet,  only  & 
struggling  aspirant,  without  a  name  and  without  orders. 

On  an  easel  was  the  picture  of  which  he  had  spoken. 
The  subject  was,  "  A  country  farm-house  at  sunrise."  Broad 
and  low,  suggestive  less  of  beauty  than  of  substantiii  coni* 
fort,  it  stood  prominently  out.  The  farmer  in  his  shirt- 
sleeves was  leaning  carelessly  against  the  fence,  watching  a 
group  of  cattle  who  were  just  emergiug  from  the  bani,  fol- 
lowed by  the  farmer's  son,  a  stout  boy  of  fourteen.  There 
was  a  cart  in  the  yard  near  the  house,  a  plough,  and  a  va- 
9* 


102  HELElt    TOBD. 

riety  of  accessories  careftdly  selected  to  imitate  nature  as 
scrupulously  as  possible.  The  whole  painting  was  exceed- 
ingly natural. 

"  It  is  beautiful,"  said  Helen,  with  childish  enthusiasm. 

"  Thank  you,"  said  the  young  man,  smiling. 

"  It  looks  very  familiar  to  me,"  said  JSIr.  Ford.  "  It  seems 
to  me  as  if  I  had  seen  the  very  farm-house  you  have  repre- 
sented." 

"  Thank  you.  I  may  dare  to  hope,  then,  that  I  have  been 
reasonably  true  to  nature." 

"  In  that  respect  I  think  you  have  succeeded  wonderfully. 
Ton  must  have  been  born  in  the  country,  Mr.  Coleman." 

"  Yes,  sir ;  I  am  a  farmer's  son." 

"  What  made  you  think  of  becoming  an  artist  ?  "  asked 
Helen. 

"I  believe  it  was  a  severe  punishment  I  received  at 
school." 

Helen  looked  surprised. 

"  I  see  you  don't  understand  how  that  should  have  had 
such  an  influence  in  determining  my  career.  Let  me  ex- 
plain. I  used  from  time  to  time  to  draw  upon  the  slate 
pictures  of  my  school-mates,  which  were  regarded  by  the 
originals  as  very  successful.  One  winter  the  Prudential 
Committee  selected  as  teacher  a  young  man  of  very  singular 
appearance*  His  nose  was  immensely  large,  and  of  odd 
shape.  One  day,  after  finishing  my  sums  in  arithmetic,  the 
fancy  seized  me  to  draw  a  picture  of  the  teacher.  I  became 
interested  in  the  portrait,  so  that  when  my  class  was  called 
up  I  did  not  hear  the  summons,  but  kept  on  with  my  sketch. 
Seeing  how  I  was  employed,  Mr.  Hargrave  stepped  up  be- 
hind me  on  tiptoe,  and  to  his  inexpressible  anger  beheld  the 
counterfeit  presentment  of  himself,  in  which  full  justice  was 
done  to  his  leading  deformity.  He  was  probably  sensible  of 
his  lack  of  beauty,  and  correspondingly  sensitive.    At  all 


THE   OPPOSITE   LODGEK.  103 

events,  he  was  so  far  from  appreciating  my  efforts,  that  he 
seized  me  by  the  collar,  swung  me  out  into  the  middle  of  the 
school-room,  and  gave  me  a  cruel  punishment,  from  which  I 
did  not  for  some  time  recover.  I  did  not  go  back  to  school, 
my  father  being  too  indignant  with  the  teacher  for  his  un- 
reasonable severity.  He  was  desirous  of  seeing  the  sketch 
which  had  excited  so  strong  a  resentment.  I  accordingly 
reproduced  it  with  a  pencil  as  carefully  as  I  could,  and  my 
father  took  the  trouble  to  have  it  framed,  and  hung  up  in 
the  sitting-room,  where  it  attracted  considerable  attention 
and  many  encomiums.  I  believe  it  was  this  incident  which 
led  me  to  think  seriously  of  becoming  an  artist  by  profes- 
sion. Twelve  months  since  my  father  gave  me  what  little 
money  he  could  spare,  and  I  came  to  New  York  to  establish 
m^^self." 

"  And  what  encouragement  have  you  received,  Mr.  Cole- 
man ?  "  asked  Mr.  Ford,  with  kindly  interest. 

"Of  pecuniary  encouragement,  none,"  was  the  reply. 
"  That,  however,  it  is  too  early  to  expect.  I  have  been  a 
part  of  the  time  in  the  studio  of  an  established  artist,  —  till 
two  months  since  in  fact,  —  obtaining  what  knowledge  I  abso- 
lutely required.  Then  I  transferred  my  studio  to  this  room. 
You  see  before  you  the  result  of  my  two  months'  labor." 

"  You  have  made  an  excellent  beginning.  I  feel  safe  in 
predicting  your  success." 

"  Thank  you,  sir.  You  asked  me  what  encouragement  I 
had  received.  Yom*  kind  anticipation  is  among  the  most 
valuable." 

"  I  do  not,  of  course,  profess  to  be  a  competent  judge," 
said  Mr.  Ford ;  "  but  I  think  an  inexperienced  eye  will  see 
much  to  commend  in  your  painting.  It's  truth  to  nature  is 
very  striking.     It  is  a  pity  you  could  not  study  abroad." 

"  It  is  my  ardent  wish,"  said  the  young  man,  *'  but  qmte 
beyond  my  power  to  compass.    I  have  now  been  a  year  in 


104  HELEK   FOSD. 

the  city,  learning  much,  as  I  hope,  but  earning  nothing. 
This  has  nearly  brought  me  to  the  end  of  my  scanty  re- 
sources. I  shall  not  be  able  to  continue  thus  much  longer. 
I  confess  to  have  built  some  hopes  upon  the  picture  I  have 
just  painted.  K  I  could  secure  a  purchaser  at  a  fair  price, 
it  would  enable  me  to  protract  my  residence,  which  otherwise 
must  soon  be  brought  to  an  end." 

"  There  is  one  bond  of  fellowship  between  us,  then,"  said 
Mr.  Ford,  smiling ;  "  that  of  poverty.  I,  too,  am  working 
on  in  present  need,  hoping  some  day  to  achieve  success,  and 
with  it  money.  But  in  one  respect  I  have  the  advantage  of 
you.  My  little  daughter,  here,"  placing  his  hand  affection- 
ately on  Helen's  hiead,  "  cheers  me  with  her  presence  and 
sympathy,  and  is  of  more  substantial  help  besides.  I  don't 
faiow  what  I  should  do  without  her." 

"  O  father  I  "  said  Helen. 

"  It  is  all  true,  my  child.  Even  now,  she  has  obtained  an 
engagement  to  sing  at  the  theatre,  chiefly,  as  I  think,  though 
she  will  not  admit  it,  because  she  thinks  the  money  will  be 
of  use  to  me." 

"  Indeed  1 "  said  the  young  artist.  "  I  observed  in  this 
morning's  paper  a  very  flattering  account  of  the  debut  of  a 
young  singer  bearing  your  daughter's  name,  but  I  had  no 
idea  it  was  she.    Wait  a  moment,  here  it  is." 

The  young  man  pointed  out  the  paragraph  to  !Mr.  Ford, 
who  read  it  with  proud  gratification.  It  was  pleasant  to 
bim  to  find  that  the  daughter  who  was  so  dear  to  him  should 
be  appreciated  by  the  public. 

"  Helen,  I  shall  become  proud  of  you,"  he  said. 

"  And  I  shall  return  the  compliment,  papa,  —  you  know 
when.    Papa,  I  want  to  whisper  to  you  a  moment." 

"  Certainly,  my  dear ;  that  is,  if  Mr.  Coleman  will  excuse 
the  impoliteness." 


THE  OPPOSITE  LODGER.  105 

"  Don't  mention  it,  sir.  I  hope  you  will  consider  me  so 
far  a  friend,  as  to  treat  me  nnceremoniously." 

"  Mr.  Coleman,"  said  Mr.  Ford,  after  his  whispered  con- 
ference with  Helen,  "  my  daughter  desires  me  to  invite  you 
to  dine  with  us.  I  trust  you  will  feel  inclined  to  accept  the 
invitation." 

"  With  the  greatest  pleasure,"  said  the  young  man,  his 
face  brightening  up. 

"  I  need  hardly  tell  you  that  we  do  not  fare  very  sumptu- 
ously." 

The  young  man  laughed.  "  And  I  need  hardly  assure 
you,  sir,  that  I  am  quite  unused  to  sumptuous  fare.  Frankly, 
but  for  your  invitation,  my  dinner  would  have  consisted  of 
some  dry  bread  and  a  couple  of  sausages." 

"  You  can  reserve  those  till  to-morrow,  then.  I  really 
don't  know  what  Helen  will  give  us.  She  allows  no  dicta- 
tion in  the  commissary  department." 

"  Now,  papa,"  remonstrated  Helen,  "  what  will  Mr.  Cole- 
man think  of  me?  You  are  making  me  out  to  be  a  dreadful 
tyrant." 

"  I  thought  it  best  to  put  him  on  his  guard.  Since  you 
are  kind  enough  to  accept  our  invitation,  Mr.  Coleman, 
Helen  will  knock  at  your  door  when  dinner  is  ready.  Grood 
morning." 

"  GU)od  morning,  sir.  I  shall  be  quite  ready  for  the  sum- 
mons." 

The  artist  went  back  to  his  work,  but  the  image  of  Helen's 
childish  beauty  occasionally  rose  up  before  him,  and  he 
could  not  help  wishing  that  Heaven  had  given  him  such  a 
Bister. 


CHAPTER  XVI. 


TECE   MUFFLED   PACE. 


Appaeentlt  brighter  days  had  dawned  upon  Helen  and 
her  father.  With  lilr.  Sharp's  loan  and  Helen's  weekly 
salary  they  were  no  longer  obliged  to  practice  the  pinching 
economy  which,  until  now,  had  been  a  necessity.  Helen 
could  now  venture  to  add  an  occasional  luxury  to  their 
daily  fare  without  being  compelled  to  consider  anxiously 
how  many  dollars  yet  remained  in  the  common  purse.  The 
landlady's  call  for  the  rent  was  now  cheerfully  received. 
Helen  always  had  the  amount  carefully  laid  aside.  No 
one  rejoiced  more  sincerely  in  their  new  prosperity  than  the 
"worthy  landlady,  who  though  forced  to  look  after  her  own 
interests,  had  a  large  heart,  full  of  kindly  sympathy  for  those 
who  were  doing  their  best  in  the  struggle  of  life. 

"I  only  wish  all  my  lodgers  were  equally  prompt,  my 
dear,"  she  said,  one  day.  "  It's  really  disagreeable  to  call 
on  some  of  them ;  they  look  as  if  you  were  the  last  person 
they  wanted  to  see,  and  pay  down  their  rent  just  for  all  the 
world  as  if  it  was  something  you  had  no  right  to,  but  were 
trying  to  exact  from  them.  Now  you  always  look  cheerful, 
and  pay  me  as  if  it  was  a  pleasure  for  you  to  do  it." 

*' And  so  it  is,"  said  Helen,  blithely.  "But  it  wasn't  so 
always.  I  think.  Mother  Morton,  that  the  pleasure  of  pay- 
ing away  money  depends  upon  whether  you  are  sure  of  any 
more  after  that  is  gone." 

"I  don't  know  but  you  are  right,"  said  the  landlady. 
"  But  I  know  it  isn't  so  with  some.    There's  Mrs,  Ferguson 

106 


THE   MUFFLED  FACE.  107 

used  to  occupy  my  first  floor  front,  living  on  her  income,  of 
which  she  didn't  spend  half.  I  suppose  she  never  had  less  than 
two  or  three  hundred  dollars  on  hand  in  her  trunk  lying  idle, 
but  she'd  put  me  ofl*  as  long  as  she  could  about  paying,  for 
no  earthly  reason  except  because  she  hated  to  part  with  her 
money.  I  stood  it  as  long  as  I  could,  till  one  day  I  told 
her  plainly  that  I  knew  she  had  the  money,  and  she  must 
pay  it  or  go.  She  took  a  miff  and  went  off,  and  I  didn't 
mourn  much  for  her.  But,  bless  my  soul !  here  I  am 
running  on,  when  I  ought  to  be  down  stairs  giving  orders 
about  the  dinner." 

Mr.  Ford  invested  a  portion  of  his  borrowed  capital  in 
a  variety  of  articles  which  he  conceived  would  assist  him 
in  his  invention.  Although  to  outward  appearance  success 
was  quite  as  distant  as  ever,  it  was  perhaps  a  happy  circum- 
stance for  Mr.  Ford  that  he  constantly  believed  himself  on 
the  eve  of  attaining  his  purpose.  Indeed,  he  labored  so 
enthusiastically  that  his  health  began  to  suffer.  The  watch- 
fiil  eyes  of  Helen  detected  this,  and  she  felt  that  it  was 
essential  that  her  father  should  have  a  greater  variety  and 
amount  of  exercise.  She  determined,  therefore,  to  propose 
some  pleasant  excursion,  which  would  have  the  effect  of 
diverting  Ms  thoughts  for  a  time  from  the  subject  which  so 
completely  engi'ossed  them. 

Accordingly,  one  Saturday  morning,  having  no  duties  at 
the  theatre  during  the  day,  she  said  to  her  father,  as  he  was 
about  to  settle  himself  to  bis  usual  employment,  "  Papa,  I 
have  a  favor  to  ask." 

"Well,  my  child?" 

"  I  don't  want  you  to  work  to-day." 

"  Why,"  said  :Mr.  Ford,  half  absently ;  "  it  isn't  Sunday, 
Is  it?" 

"  No,"  said  Helen,  laughing ;  "  but  it  is  Saturday,  and  I 
think  we  ought  to  take  a  holiday." 


108  HELBli)    VORD. 

'*  To  be  sure,"  said  Mr.  Ford,  thinking  that  Helen  needed 
one.  I  ought  to  have  spoken  of  it  before.  And  what  shall 
we  do,  Helen  ?  what  would  you  like  to  do  ?  " 

"  ril  tell  you,  papa,  of  a  grand  plan ;  I  thought  of  it  yes- 
terday, as  I  was  looking  at  the  advertisements  in  the  paper. 
Suppose  we  go  to  Staten  Island  in  the  steamboat." 

"  I  believe  I  should  enjoy  it,"  said  Mr.  Ford,  brightening 
up.    "  It  will  do  both  of  us  good ;  when  shall  we  go?  " 

"Let  me  see,  it  is  eight  o'clock ;  I  think  we  can  get  ready 
to  take  the  nine  o'clock  boat." 

Having  once  determined  upon  the  plan,  Mr.  Ford  showed 
an  almost  childish  eagerness  to  put  it  into  execution ;  he 
fidgeted  about  nervousty  while  Helen  was  sweeping  the 
floor  and  setting  the  room  to  rights,  and  inquired  half  a 
dozen  times,  " Most  ready,  Helen? " 

Helen  hailed  with  no  little  satisfaction  this  sign  of  inter- 
est on  the  part  of  her  father,  and  resolved  that  if  she  could 
accomplish  it  these  excursions  should  henceforth  be  more 
frequent. 

By  nine  o'clock  they  were  on  board  the  boat.  A  large 
number  of  passengers  had  already  gathered  on  the  deck. 
The  unusual  beauty  of  the  morning  had  induced  many  to 
snatch  from  the  harassing  toils  of  business  a  few  hours  of 
communion  with  the  fresh  scenes  of  nature.  Both  decks 
were  soon  crowded  with  passengers.  Helen,  to  whom  this 
was  a  new  experience,  enjoyed  the  scene  not  a  little.  She 
felt  her  spirits  rising,  and  it  seemed  to  her  difficult  to  imag- 
ine a  more  beautiful  spectacle  than  the  boat  with  its  white 
awnings  and  complement  of  well-dressed  passengers.  They 
had  scarcely  found  comfortable  seats  on  the  promenade  deck 
before  the  signal  was  given,  and  the  boat  cast  loose  from  the 
wharf.  There  is  nothing  more  nearly  approaching  the  act  of 
flying  than  the  swift-gliding  movement  of  a  steamboat  as  it 


THE  MUFFLED   FACB.  109 

deaves  its  way  easily  and  gracefully  through  the  smooth 
water. 

Mr.  Ford  looked  thoughtfully  back  upon  the  spires  and 
roofs  of  the  city  momentarily  receding. 

"  How  everything  has  changed,"  he  said  slowly,  "  since  I 
last  crossed  iu  a  row-boat  more  than  twenty  years  ago  I 
And  aU  this  change  has  been  effected  by  the  tireless  energy 
of  man.  Does  it  not  seem  strange  that  the  outward  aspect 
of  inanimate  nature  should  be  so  completely  altered  ?  " 

Half  an  hour  landed  them  at  the  island.  Helen  took  her 
father's  hand  and  assumed  the  oflSce  of  guide.  They  gazed 
with  interest  at  the  gay  crowds  as  they  availed  themselves 
of  the  means  of  amusement  which  the  place  afforded.  Helen 
even  left  her  father  long  enough  to  take  her  tm'n  in  swinging, 
and,  flushed  with  the  exercise,  returned  to  him.  They  next 
sauntered  to  a  wooden  inclosure,  where  wooden  horses,  each 
bearing  a  rider,  were  revolving  under  the  impulse  of  machin- 
ery. The  riders  eonsisted  partly  of  boys,  and  partly  of 
others  who  were  compelled  to  labor  hard  on  other  days,  but 
had  been  tempted,  by  the  cheapness  of  the  trip,  to  a  day's 
recreation. 

Leaving  Helen  and  her  father  to  amuse  themselves  in 
their  quiet  way,  we  turn  our  attention  to  others. 

Among  those  who  were  rambling  hither  and  thither  as 
caprice  dictated,  was  a  young  man  whose  pale  face  and 
attenuated  figure  indicated  some  sedentary  pursuit.  His 
face,  though  intellectual,  was  not  pleasing.  There  was 
Bomething  in  the  lines  about  the  mouth  which  argued  moral 
weakness. 

Is  this  description  sufficient  to  bring  back  to  the  reader's 
recollection  Jacob  Wynne,  the  copyist,  whose  services  had 
been  called  into  requisition  by  Lewis  Rand  ? 

He  was  better  dressed  than  when  last  introduced  to  the 
reader.    The  money  furnished  by  Rand  in  return  for  his  sei> 

10 


110  HELEN    FORD. 

vices  had  supplied  the  means  for  this  outward  improvement. 
On  his  arm  leaned  a  young  girl,  or  rather  a  young  woman,  for 
she  appeared  about  twenty-five  years  of  age.  He  was  con- 
versing with  her  in  a  low  tone,  but  upon  what  subject  could 
not  be  distinguished.  She  listened,  apparently  not  dis- 
pleased. They  walked  slowly,  now  in  one  direction,  now  in 
another.  If  they  had  not  been  so  occupied  with  one  anoth- 
er, they  might  have  observed  that  they  were  followed  at  a 
little  distance  by  a  woman  who  kept  her  burning  gaze  fixed 
upon  them  steadily,  apparently  determined  not  to  lose  sight 
of  them  a  single  moment. 

This  woman  seemed  out  of  place  in  the  festive  scene  into 
which  she  had  introduced  herself.  She  presented  a  strong 
contrast  to  the  gay,  well-dressed  groups  through  which  she 
passed  without  seeming  to  heed  their  presence. 

She  was  dressed  in  a  faded  calico  dress,  over  which,  not" 
withstanding  the  heat,  a  ragged  shawl  was  carelessly  thrown. 
On  her  head  was  a  sun-bonnet,  so  large  that  it  nearly  con- 
cealed her  features  from  view.  One  or  two  who  had  the  cu- 
riosity to  look  at  the  face,  so  carefully  concealed,  started  in 
alarm  at  the  hard,  fierce  expression  which  they  detected 
there.  Her  face  was  very  pale,  save  that  at  the  centre  of 
each  cheek  there  glowed  a  vivid  red  spot.  It  was  evident 
that  the  heart  of  this  woman  was  the  seat  of  conflicting  pas- 
sions. She  continued  to  follow  Jacob  Wynne,  with  what 
object  it  was  not  evident.  It  seemed  that  she  did  not  wish 
to  make  her  presence  known  to  him,  at  least  in  his  present 
company,  since,  on  his  casually  turning  his  glances  in  her 
direction,  she  drew  her  bonnet  more  closely  about  her  fea- 
tures, so  as  to  elude  the  closest  scrutiny,  and  with  apparent 
carelessness  turned  away.  When  she  saw  that  his  attention 
was  again  occupied  by  his  companion  she  resumed  ter 
espionage. 

At  length  they   separated  for  a  few  minutes.    Jacob's 


THE  MUFFLED    FACE.  Hi 

companion  expressed  a  wish  for  a  glass  of  water.  Leaving 
her  seated  on  the  grass,  he  hastened  away  to  comply  with 
her  request.  The  woman  who  had  followed  them  so  closely, 
as  soon  as  she  saw  this,  moved  rapidly  towards  the  compan- 
ion he  had  left,  and  dropped  into  her  lap  a  few  words  wriv 
ten  in  pencil  upon  a  slip  of  paper.  The  latter,  picking  it  up 
in  surprise,  read  as  follows :  "  Beware  of  the  man  who  has 
just  left  you,  or  you  will  repent  it  when  too  late.  He  is  not 
to  be  trusted." 

She  looked  up,  but  could  see  no  one  likely  to  have  given 
it  to  her.  At  a  little  distance  her  eyes  fell  upon  a  shabbily- 
dressed  woman  who  was  walking  rapidly  away,  but  it  never 
crossed  her  mind  that  she  had  anjiihing  to  do  with  the  warn- 
ing just  given.  If  she  had  watched  longer  she  would  have 
seen  the  meeting  of  this  woman  with  Jacob  Wynne,  for  it 
was  of  him  she  had  gone  in  pursuit.  The  latter  was  return- 
ing with  a  glass  of  water  when  she  threw  herself  in  his  path. 
With  a  glance  of  surprise  he  was  about  to  pass  by,  when  she 
planted  herself  again  in  Ms  way. 


CHAPTER  XVn. 

AN  AWKWARD   INTERVIEW. 

Jacob  Wynne  looked  in  surprise  at  the  person  who  so 
persistently  barred  his  progress,  and  exclaimed,  impatiently, 
"What  means  all  this  foolery?  Stand  aside,  my  good 
woman,  and  let  me  pass." 

She  did  not  move. 

The  scrivener  never,  for  a  moment,  suspected  who  she 
might  be.  It  never  occurred  to  him  that  she  had  a  special 
object  in  accosting  him.  He  could  not  see  her  face,  for  it 
was  still  concealed  by  the  bonnet  and  thick  veil  she  wore. 

"  There  is  something  for  you,"  he  said,  throwing  down  a 
small  silver  coin ;  for  he  judged  that  she  might  be  a  beggar. 
"  Now  stand  aside,  will  you,  for  I  am  in  haste." 

"  So  you  bestow  your  alms  upon  me,  as  upon  a  beggar, 
Jacob  Wynne,"  said  the  woman,  with  a  hard,  bitter  laugh. 
As  she  spoke,  she  drew  aside  her  veil  with  an  impatient 
movement,  and  allowed  him  a  fiill  view  of  her  features. 

"  Margaret  I "  he  exclaimed,  recoUing  so  hastUy  as  to 
spiQ  the  contents  of  the  glass. 

"  Yes,  —  Margaret !  "  she  repeated,  in  the  same  hard  tone 
as  before.    "  I  dare  say  you  did  not  expect  to  see  me  here." 

"  What  fiend  sent  you  here?  "  he  exclaimed,  angrily. 

"  Is  it  so  remarkable,"  she  said,  "  that  I  should  wish  tob6 
near  you?" 

"  Margaret,"  said  Jacob,  with  difficulty  restraining  his 
anger  sufficiently  to  assume  a  tone  of  persuasion,  "  consider 


AN  AWKWARD   INTERVIEW.  US 

how  much  attention  you  will  attract,  dressed  in  this  uncouth 
style.    Go  home ;  there's  a  good  woman." 

He  looked  uneasily  in  the  direction  where  he  had  left  his 
companion,  fearing  that  she  might  become  a  witness  of  this 
interview. 

"  Good  woman  I  "  she  laughed,  wildly.  "  Oh,  yes,  you 
do  well  to  call  me  that.  You  are  doing  your  best  to  make 
me  so."  Then  changing  her  tone,  "  So  you  are  ashamed  of 
my  dress.  I  will  not  disgrace  you  any  longer,  if  you  will 
give  me  money  to  buy  others." 

"  Well,  well  I  we'll  talk  about  that  when  we  get  home. 
Only  walk  quietly  down  to  the  boat  now.  You  see  we  are 
attracting  attention." 

"  And  you  will  come  with  me?  "  she  said,  with  a  search- 
ing look. 

"I?  no,  not  at  present.  I  have  an  engagement,"  said 
Jacob,  in  some  embaiTassment. 

"  Yes,  I  understand,"  said  Margaret,  bitterly.  "It  is 
with  her,"  and  she  pointed  to  the  tree  under  which  his  late 
companion  was  yet  seated. 

Jacob  started. 

"  You  may  well  start,"  said  Margaret,  whose  observant 
^ye  did  not  fail  to  detect  his  momentary  confusion. 

"  What  do  you  mean?"  he  demanded,  half  defiantly. 

"  Jacob  Wynne,"  she  continued,  sternly,  fixing  her  pene- 
trating eye  full  upon  him,  "  tell  me  who  is  this  woman,  and 
what  she  is  to  you.     Tell  me,  for  I  have  a  right  to  know." 

She  folded  her  arms  and  looked  like  an  accusing  spirit,  a& 
she  made  this  demand.  The  consciousness  of  guilt  mad© 
Ms  physical  inferiority  the  more  conspicuous,  as  he  met  her 
gaze  uneasily,  as  if  meditating  an  escape. 

"  This  is  no  place  for  the  discussion  of  such  matters,"  he 
said,  in  a  tone  which  strove  to  be  conciliatory.     "  It  is  all 

10* 


114  HELEN    FOKD. 

right,  of  course.  Go  home  quietly,  and  when  I  return,  I 
will  answer  your  questions." 

He  was  mistaken  if  he  thought  thus  to  escape.  Marga- 
ret was  in  a  state  of  high  nervous  excitement,  and  the  fear 
of  being  overheard  by  the  groups  who  surrounded  them  was 
wholly  lost  sight  of  in  the  intensity  of  her  purpose, 

"  Jacob,"  she  said,  steadily,  "  this  is  not  a  matter  to  be 
deferred.  My  suspicions  have  been  long  excited,  and  now 
I  want  an  explanation.  I  cannot  live  as  I  have  lived. 
Sometimes  I  have  feared,"  placing  her  hand  upon  her  brow, 
"  that  my  head  was  becoming  unsettled." 

"  Your  coming  here  to-day  is  no  slight  proof  of  it,"  he 
said,  hardly.     "  I  think  you  are  right." 

She  threw  off  this  insinuation,  cruel  as  it  was,  with  hardly 
a  thought  of  what  it  meant.  She  had  but  one  object  now, 
and  that  she  must  accomplish. 

"  Enough  of  this,  Jacob,"  she  said,  briefly.  "  You  have 
not  answered  my  question.  This  woman, — what  is  she  to 
you?" 

"  Suppose  I  do  not  choose  to  tell  you,"  he  answered, 
doggedly. 

"I  demand  an  answer,"  said  Margaret,  resolutely.  "I 
have  a  right  to  know." 

The  weakest  natures  are  often  the  most  cruel,  delighting 
£n  the  power  which  circumstances  sometimes  bestow  upon 
them  of  torturing  those  who  are  infinitely  their  superiors. 
There  was  a  cruel  malignity  in  the  scrivener's  eyes  as  he 
repeated,  slowly,  "  You  have'  a  right  to  know !  Deign  to 
inform  me  of  what  nature  is  this  right." 

"  Good  heavens  I  "  she  exclaimed,  startled  out  of  herself 
by  his  efla*ontery.    "  Have  you  the  face  to  ask?  " 

"  I  have,"  he  said,  his  countenance  expressing  the  satis- 
faction he  felt  in  the  blow  he  meditated. 

Margaret  looked  at  him  a  moment,  uncertain  of  his  Btean- 


AN  AWKWARD  INTEEVTEW.  115 

Ing.  Then  she  took  a  step  forward  and  placed  her  hand  on 
his  arm,  while  she  looked  up  in  his  face  with  an  expression 
which  had  changed  suddenly  from  defiance  to  entreaty. 
"  Jacob,"  she  said,  in  a  softened  tone,  "  have  you  forgotten 
the  morning  when  we  both  stood  before  the  altar,  and 
pledged  to  each  other  eternal  constancy?  It  is  ten  years 
since,  years  not  unmarked  by  sorrow  and  privation,  but  we 
have  been  the  happier  for  being  together,  have  we  not  ?  You 
remember  our  little  Margaret,  Jacob,  —  how  she  lighted  up 
our  humble  home  with  her  sweet,  winning  ways,  till  God  saw 
fit  to  take  her  to  himself?  K  she  had  lived,  I  don't  think 
you  would  have  found  it  in  your  heart  to  neglect  me  so. 
Can  we  not  be  to  each  other  what  we  have  been,  Jacob  ?  I 
may  have  been  in  fault  sometimes,  with  my  hasty  temper, 
but  I  have  never  swerved  from  my  love  for  you." 

"You  are  at  liberty  to  do  so  as  soon  as  you  like,"  he 
said,  coldly. 

"  Good  heavens  I  "  she  exclaimed ;  "  and  this  to  your 
wedded  wife  I " 

"  That  is  a  slight  mistake  of  yours,"  he  returned,  with  a 
sneer,  resting  his  calculating  eyes  upon  her  face,  as  if  to 
mark  the  effect  of  his  words. 

Her  hand  released  its  hold  upon  his  arm,  and  she  stag- 
gered back  as  if  about  to  fall. 

"My  God!  what  do  you  mean?  What  can  you  mean? 
Tell  me  quickly,  if  you  would  not  have  me  go  mad  before 
your  eyes." 

"  That  might  be  the  best  way  of  ending  the  matter,"  said 
he,  with  deliberate  cruelty.  Nevertheless  I  will  not  refuse 
to  gratify  your  reasonable  curiosity.  I  declare  to  you  sol- 
emnly that  you  are  not  my  wedded  wife." 

"  You  would  deceive  me,"  she  said,  with  sudden  anger. 

"  Not  in  this  matter,  though  I  acknowledge  having  d©« 


116  HELEN    FORD. 

ceived  you  once.  The  priest  who  performed  the  ceremony 
was  so  only  for  that  occasion." 

Margaret  passed  her  hand  across  her  eyes  as  if  she  were 
tiying  to  rouse  herself  from  some  stupefying  dream. 

"  Surely  you  -are  jesting,  Jacob,"  she  said,  at  length. 
"  You  are  only  saying  this  to  try  me.  Is  it  not  so  ?  I  will 
only  ask  you  this  once.     Are  you  in  earnest  ?  " 

"  I  declare  to  you,  Margaret,  that  you  are  not  my  wedded 
wife." 

"Then,"  she  said  in  a  sudden  burst  of  fury,  to  which  she 
was  urged  by  the  sharpness  of  her  despair.  "  Then  I  have 
only  one  thing  to  live  for  now." 

She  turned  away. 

"What  do  you  mean?"  asked  Jacob,  almost  involunta- 
rily,  her  manner  producing  a  vague  uneasiness. 

"  Revenge  1 " 

She  drew  her  tattered  shawl  closely  about  her,  and,  though 
the  heat  was  intense,  actually  shivered  in  her  fierce  emotion. 
Jacob  looked  after  her  as  she  walked  rapidly  away,  turning 
neither  to  the  right  nor  to  the  left,  and  a  half  feeling  of  com- 
punction came  over  him.  It  was  only  for  a  moment,  how- 
ever, for  he  shook  it  off,  muttering  impatiently,  — 

"  Pshaw !  what's  the  use  of  fretting !  It  must  have  come 
sooner  or  later.  I  suppose  it  was  only  natural  to  expect 
a  scene.  Well,  Fm  glad  it's  over,  at  any  rate.  Now  I  shall 
have  one  impediment  out  of  my  path." 

Jacob's  nature  was  cold  and  cowardly,  and,  as  may  be 
inferred,  essentially  selfish.  Destitute  of  all  the  finer  feel- 
ings, it  was  quite  impossible  to  understand  the  pain  which  he 
had  inflicted  on  a  nature  so  sensitive  and  high-strung  as  that 
of  Margaret.  Nor,  had  he  been  able  to  understand,  would 
the  instinct  of  humanity  have  bidden  him  to  refrain. 

He  retraced  his  steps  to  obtain  another  glass  of  water, 


AN  AWKWARD  INTEEVIBW.  117 

for  the  one  in  his  hand  had  been  spilled  in  the  surprise  of  his 
first  meeting  with  Margaret. 

"  Did  you  get  tired  of  waiting,  Ellen?  "  he  asked,  as  on 
his  return  he  presented  the  glass  to  his  companion. 

The  suspicions  excited  in  her  mind  by  the  mysterious 
warning  had  been  strengthened  by  his  protracted  absence. 

"  You  were  long  absent,"  she  said,  coldly. 

"  Yes,"  he  replied,  somewhat  confused.  "  I  was  unex- 
pectedly detained." 

"  Perhaps  you  can  explain  this,"  she  continued,  handing 
him  the  paper  she  had  received. 

He  turned  pale  with  anger  and  vexation,  and  incautiously 
muttered,  "  This  is  some  of  Margaret's  work.     Curse  her  !  " 

"  Who  is  Margaret  ?  "  asked  his  comiDanion,  suspiciously. 

"  She,"  said  Jacob,  hesitating,  in  embarrassment.  *'  Oh, 
she  is  an  acquaintance  of  mine  whose  mind  has  lost  its  bal- 
ance. You  may  have  seen  her  on  the  ground  here.  She  was 
muffled  up  in  a  shawl  and  cape-bonnet.  She  is  always  making 
trouble  in  some  imexpected  way." 

That  this  was  a  fabrication,  Jacob's  confused  manner 
clearly  evinced. 

"  I  wish  to  go  home,"  was  the  only  response.  Jacob 
offered  his  arm. 

It  was  rejected.  They  walked  on,  not  exchanging  a 
word. 

When  they  parted  in  New  York,  Jacob  gave  fiiU  vent  to 
his  indignation,  and  hastened  home  to  pour  out  his  fury  on 
Margaiet,  who  had  so  seriously  interfered  with  his  plan  of 
allying  himself  with  one  for  whom  he  cared  little,  except 
that  she  would  have  brought  him  a  small  property  which  he 
coveted.  He  hurried  up  stairs,  and  dashed  into  the  room 
occupied  by  Margaret  and  himself.  He  looked  about  him 
eagerly,  but  saw  no  one. 

Margaret  had  disappeared. 


CHAPTER  XVm. 

margaket's  flight. 

When  Margaret  left  Staten  Island  after  her  stormy  interw 
view  with  Jacob  Wynne,  it  was  with  a  fevered  brain,  and  a 
heart  torn  with  the  fiercest  emotions.  This  man,  whom 
despite  his  unworthiness,  she  had  loved  with  all  the  intensity 
of  her  woman's  nature,  had  spurned  her  afiection,  had  ruth- 
lessly thrown  it  back  upon  her,  and  with  a  cold  refinement 
of  cruelty  had  acknowledged  without  reserve  the  gross 
deception  he  had  practised  upon  her. 

There  are  some  of  sensitive  natures  that  would  shrink  and 
die  under  such  treatment.  Margaret  was  differently  consti- 
tuted. The  blow  was  terrible,  but  she  did  not  give  way 
under  it.  It  hardened  her  whole  nature,  and  excited  in  her 
a  burning  thirst  for  vengeance.  Strong  in  hate  as  in  love, 
there  sprang  up  in  her  soul  a  determined  purpose,  that,  as 
Jacob  Wynne  had  ruthlessly  laid  waste  the  garden  of  her 
life,  she  would  never  rest  till  she  had  made  his  as  desolate 
as  her  own. 

During  the  half-hour  spent  from  wharf  to  wharf,  she  paced 
the  deck  of  the  steamer  with  hasty  strides,  her  shawl  clasped 
tightly  over  her  throbbing  bosom,  and  her  face  concealed  as 
before  by  the  capacious  sun-bonnet.  She  heeded  not  that 
she  was  the  object  of  curious  attention  on  the  part  of  her 
fellow-passengers.  She  never  noticed  how  sedulously  the 
children  avoided  coming  in  her  way  —  what  glances,  half  of 
wonder,  half  of  awe,  they  cast  upon  the  tall,  stately,  ill- 
dressed  woman  who  strode  by  them  with  such  an  iqipatient 

lis 


MARGARET'S    FLIGHT.  119 

step.  She  had  far  other  thoughts  to  occupy  her.  She  could 
not  force  herself  to  sit  down.  With  her  mind  in  such  a 
whirl,  motion  was  absolutely  necessary.  Her  hands  were 
fiercely  clenched  till  the  nails  penetrated  the  skin,  and 
caused  the  blood  to  flow,  but  she  neither  saw  the  blood  nor 
felt  the  injury. 

At  length  they  reached  the  slip.  She  disembarked  with 
the  other  passengers,  and  with  the  same  quick,  hasty, 
impatient  strides  hurried  through  the  streets,  choosing 
instinctively  the  most  obscure  and  unfrequented,  until  she 
reached  the  lodgings  occupied  by  Jacob  and  herself. 

Here  she  sat  down  for  a  few  minutes,  and  looked  about 
her. 

The  room  was  more  ambitiously  furnished  than  when 
first  the  reader  was  introduced  to  it.  Jacob's  connection 
with  Lewis  Eand  had  given  him  a  push  upward,  and  enabled 
him  to  live  more  comfortably  than  before.  But  in  this 
prosperity  Margaret  had  not  been  permitted  to  participate. 
She  had  asked  even  humbly  for  money  to  provide  herself 
with  more  comfortable  and  befitting  clothing,  but  Jacob,  with 
cold  selfishness,  had  refused  all  her  applications.  He  had 
grown  tired  of  her,  and,  as  we  have  seen,  had  already  formed 
a  plan  by  which  he  hoped,  through  marriage,  to  get  posses- 
sion of  a  small  property  which  would  place  his  new  prosper- 
ity on  a  more  permanent  footing.  His  treatment  of  Mar- 
garet, therefore,  was  only  part  of  a  deliberate  plan  to  rid 
himself  of  her,  and  thus  remove  the  only  obstacle  to  the 
success  of  his  suit.  He  had  not  indeed  intended  to  reveal 
his  plans  to  her  until  marriage  had  secured  the  property  he 
coveted.  We  have  seen  how  Margaret's  jealous  espionage 
forced  a  premature  disclosure  of  his  object,  and  even  defeated 
it  altogether. 

Margaret  looked  about  the  room,  which  she  had  so  long 
regarded  as  home.    Then  her  eye  rested  on  herself  disfig- 


120  HELEN    FORD. 

ored  by  the  faded  and  unsightly  garments  which  Jacob's 
parsimony  compelled  her  to  wear,  and  she  smiled,  —  a  smile 
of  such  bitter  mockery,  such  deep  and  woM  despair,  — 
that  she  almost  shuddered  to  see  it  reflected  in  the  mirror 
opposite. 

"There  is  no  time  to  waste,"  she  muttered,  slowly. 
"This  can  be  my  home  no  longer.  I  must  do  what  I  have 
to  do  and  be  gone." 

She  opened  a  small  drawer  in  the  bureau,  and  drew  out  a 
half  sheet  of  paper.  It  seemed  to  have  been  used  for  trying 
the  pen,  the  same  names  together  with  particular  letters, 
being  several  times  repeated  on  it.  Among  the  names  that 
of  Rand  occurred  most  frequently. 

Margaret  smiled — this  time  a  smile  of  triumph. 

"  Jacob  Wynne !  Jacob  Wynne ! "  she  repeated  to  herself, 
"  what  would  you  say  if  you  Imew  that  I  hold  in  my  hand 
the  evidence  of  your  crime,  —  forgery !  forgery ! " 

Her  eyes  sparkled  with  vindictive  joy. 

"  You  would  not  sleep  so  quietly  in  your  bed  to-night, 
Jacob  Wynne,  if  you  knew  that  I  hold  it  in  my  power  to 
hurl  you  into  prison  a  convicted  forger !  Why  should  I  not 
do  it  ?  Tell  me  that,  Jacob  Wynne.  Why,  indeed ;  shall  I 
have  compassion  upon  you  who  have  had  no  pity  for  me  ? 
Never  I  never  I " 

"When  you  are  in  prison,"  she  continued,  in  a  tone  of 
yet  deeper  vindictiveness,  "  I  will  come  and  visit  you,  and 
taunt  you  with  the  knowledge  that  it  is  to  me  you  owe  your 
disgrace.  Think  you  that  she  will  smile  upon  you  then ;  that 
she  will  be  ready  to  stand  before  the  altar  as  I  did?  — 
Heaven  help  me !  —  and  plight  her  faith  to  a  convicted 
forger?" 

Margaret's  whole  nature  seemed  changed.  Her  love 
seemed  to  have  given  place  to  a  deadly  resentment. 


mabgabet's  flight.  121 

She  collected  a  few  articles,  and  packed  them  in  a  small 
onndle. 

Then  she  took  one  more  glance  —  a  farewell  look  at  what, 
till  now,  had  been  her  home,  and  then  pressed  her  hand  upon 
her  heart,  while  an  expression  of  pain  distorted  her  features. 
Bat  this  was  only  for  a  moment.  By  a  powerful  effort  of 
self-control  she  checked  her  emotions,  and  silently  went  out 
from  the  room. 

Mile  after  mile  walked  Margaret  through  the  crowded 
city  streets,  turning  neither  to  the  right  hand  nor  to  the 
left.  All  gazed  curiously  at  her,  aU  turned  out  for  her. 
Now  and  then  some  one,  more  independent  than  his  neigh- 
bors, seemed  inclined  to  oppose  her  progress,  and  compel 
her  to  yield  the  way ;  but  she  moved  steadily  onwards,  and 
he  was  obliged  to  waive  his  independence,  and  make  way  for 
the  singular  woman  whose  stately  walk  seemed  so  inconsist- 
ent with  her  miserable  attire. 

On,  on,  till  the  houses  became  farther  and  farther  apart ; 
on,  till  the  whirl  of  the  great  city  is  lost  in  the  distance,  and 
fields  stretch  out  on  either  side  of  the  highway. 

Still  she  moves  on,  never  faltering,  never  showing  signs 
of  fatigue. 

The  sMes  grew  suddenly  dark.  The  rumbling  of  distant 
thunder  was  heard.  Vivid  flashes  of  lightning  played  before 
her  eyes,  and  dazzled  her  with  their  blinding  glare  ;  stUl  she 
moved  steadily  onward.  A  tree,  shivered  by  the  lightning, 
fell  across  her  path ;  she  climbed  over  the  trunk  which  had 
been  rent  in  twain,  and  continued  her  journey  without 
exhibiting  a  trace  of  surprise  or  alarm.  There  was  a  conflict 
raging  in  her  own  soul  fiercer  than  the  conflict  of  the  ele- 
ments without ;  what  was  the  lightning  that  dazzled  her  sight 
to  that  which  had  seared  her  heart?  And  why  should  she 
shrink  from  the  shattered  tree,  whose  own  life  had  been 

made  a  yet  more  fearful  wreck? 
11 


122  HELEN   FORD. 

And  now  the  rain  began  to  fall,  not  in  a  gentle  sliower, 
but  in  a  fierce,  drencMng  deluge.  It  soaked  through  and 
through  her  miserable  clothing,  and  fell  upon  her  hot  sMn. 
She  did  not  seem  to  heed  even  that,  but  still  walked  on  — 
on  with  the  same  quick,  steady  pace,  as  before. 

By  the  wayside  was  a  small  cottage,  a  very  small  one. 
There  was  but  one  story,  and  two  rooms  were  all  it  con- 
tained. It  stood  a  few  feet  back  from  the  road.  There  was 
a  small  yard  in  front,  and  behind  a  small  garden,  devoted  to 
the  cultivation  of  vegetables. 

When  Margaret  came  in  sight  of  this  cottage  she  paused, 
—  paused  a  moment  irresolutely,  —  and  then  slowly  entered 
through  the  open  gate  into  the  path  which  led  up  to  the 
front  door. 

She  did  not  knock,  but  passing  the  door,  stole  to  the 
window  and  looked  cautiously  in. 

The  room  revealed  to  her  gaze  was  very  plainly  furnished. 
The  floor  was  clean,  but  had  no  carpet.  A  table  and  a  few 
chairs,  a  clock,  a  stove,  and  a  rocking-chair,  were  all  that  the 
room  contained. 

In  the  rocking-chair  sat  an  old  lady,  quietly  engaged  in 
knitting.  Her  back  was  towards  the  window,  and  Margaret 
could  therefore  see  nothing  of  her  features.  At  her  feet  re- 
posed a  gigantic  cat,  with  her  eyes  half  closed,  purring 
contentedly. 

It  was  a  picture  of  humble  comfort  and  domestic  happi- 
ness. The  placid  look  of  the  old  lady  seemed  to  indicate 
that  she  had  no  anxieties  to  disturb  her  tranquillity.  The 
cat,  too,  seemed  to  feel  that  dozing  was  the  great  work  of 
her  existence,  as,  coiled  up  on  the  hearth,  she  watched, 
with  winking  eyes,  the  rapid  movements  of  the  old  lady's 
fingers. 

Such  was  the  general  aspect  of  the  room  upon  which  the 


habgabet's  tlight.  123 

homing  eyes  of  Margaret  now  rested.  She  stood  for  • 
brief  space  peering  in  with  an  air  of  irresolution. 

At  length  she  opened  the  outer  door,  A  moment  more, 
and  the  door  of  the  inner  room  yielded  to  her  touch,  and 
she  stood  upon  the  threshold. 

The  old  lady  looked  up  from  her  knitting,  and  uttered  a 
half  exclamation  of  terror  as  her  eyes  rested  on  the  tall, 
forlorn  woman  standing  before  her,  with  her  clothes  hanging 
in  wet  folds  about  her  person,  and  her  hair  falling  in  wild 
disorder  about  her  face,  from  which  she  had  now  removed 
her  bonnet.  The  cat,  too,  who  had  been  roused  from  her 
nap,  and  who  was  as  much  unused  to  such  company  as  her 
mistress,  stood  with  her  back  arched  iu  terror,  gaziug  in 
dismay  at  the  stranger. 

"  Who  are  you?  "  asked  the  old  lady,  tremulously.  "  What 
do  you  want  with  me  ?  " 

Margaret  looked  at  her  earnestly,  and  said,  in  a  low  voice : 

"  You  do  not  know  me  ?  " 

"  No,  I  don't  know  you,"  said  the  old  lady,  shaking  her 
head. 

"  Is  it  thus  a  mother  forgets  her  own  child  ?  "  asked  Mar- 
garet, looking  fixedly  at  her. 

The  old  lady  trembled,  she  looked  with  an  earnest  glance 
of  inquiry  at  the  wild,  haggard  face  of  her  visitor,  and  then 
bursting  into  tears  took  a  step  forward,  and  openiug  her  arms 
exclaimed,  — 

"  Margaret,  my  daughter  I " 

The  hard  heart  melted  for  a  moment,  tears  gushed  from 
eyes  dry  before,  and  the  two  were  folded  in  a  close  embrace. 

Then  the  old  lady  drew  back  a  step,  and  gazed  long  and 
earnestly  at  her  daughter. 

"  You  find  me  changed,  mother,"  said  Margaret,  abruptly. 

"  It  is  years  since  we  met,"  was  the  sad  reply.  "  I  might 
have  expected  to  find  you  changed." 


124  HELEN    FOBD. 

"  But  not  such  a  change,"  replied  Margaret.  "  It  is  not 
years  alone  that  have  wrought  the  change  in  me.  But  you 
don't — you  cannot  see  the  greater  change,"  she  continued 
with  rapidity,  "  that  has  taken  place  in  my  heart.  It  is  a 
woful  change,  mother." 

Her  mother  marked,  with  alarm,  the  excitement  of  her 
manner,  her  quick  breathing,  and  the  flush  upon  her  cheeks. 

"Your  clothes  are  wet,  Margaret,"  she  said,  anxiously. 
"  This  terrible  storm  has  drenched  you.  You  must  change 
them  instantly,  or  you  will  get  your  death  of  cold." 

;  "  Ah,  that  reminds  me,"  said  Margaret,  waywardly,  "  you 
haven't  admired  my  clothes  yet.  They  are  very  rich  and 
becoming,  are  they  not?  This  shawl,"  and  she  lifted  up  the 
tattered  rag  and  spread  it  out,  while  the  rain  dropped  from 
it  upon  the  floor,  "  have  you  ever  seen  a  more  beautiful  one? 
And  this  dress,"  —  she  held  it  up  in  her  fingers,  —  "  how 
much  it  resembles  the  soft  silk  I  wore  at  my  wedding  — 
yes,  my  wedding  "  she  repeated,  with  startling  emphasis. 

"You  are  not  well,  Margaret,"  said  her  mother,  alarmed 
at  her  strange  conduct.  "You  have  caught  cold  in  this 
storm,  and  you  will  be  sick  if  you  are  not  careful." 

"  Sick !     That  matters  little." 

"  You  might  die,"  urged  the  old  lady,  in  a  tone  of  mild 
reproach. 

"Yes,"  said  Margaret,  reflectively,  "I  might  die,  and 
that  would  prevent  my  revenge.  I  must  live  for  that ;  yes, 
I  must  live  for  that." 

"  What  do  you  mean,  Margaret  ?  " 

'*  Never  mind,  mother,"  said  Margaret,  evasively,  "  never 
mind.  I  will  tell  you  some  time.  Now  I  will  place  myself 
in  your  hands,  mother,  and  try  to  get  well." 

"Now  you  are  yourself  again,"  said  the  old  lady,  re- 
lieved  by  her  calmer  tone.    "  You  must  take  off  those  wet 


habgabbt's  flight.  125 

clothes  directly,  and  put  on  some  of  mine.    You  had  better 

go  to  bed  at  once." 

Margaret  yielded  implicitly  to  her  mother's  directions. 

Nevertheless,  she  was  very  sick  for  many  weeks.    Often  she 

was  delirious,  and  her  mother  more  than  once  shuddered  at 

the  wild  words  which  escaped  her. 
u* 


CHAPTER  XIX. 

HERBERT  COLEMAN. 

In  course  of  time  Helen's  engagement  subjected  her  to 
a  new  embarrassment.  It  was  of  course  late  in  the  evening 
before  she  was  released  from  the  theatre,  leaving  her  a 
distance  to  traverse  of  more  than  a  mile.  At  first  Martha 
Grey  called  for  her,  but  it  soon  became  evident  that  this 
was  too  much  for  the  strength  of  the  poor  seamstress.  She 
did  not  complain,  but  Helen,  with  the  quick  eye  of  friend- 
ship, saw  her  lassitude,  and  the  air  of  weariness  which  she 
strove  in  vain  to  conceal,  and  would  not  allow  her  to  con- 
tinue her  friendly  service. 

"But,  my  dear  child,"  said  Martha,  "how  will  you 
manage?  You  ought  not  to  go  alone.  It  would  not  be 
proper." 

"I  will  try  it,"  said  Helen,  though  her  timid  nature 
shrank  from  the  trial.  "  If  necessary,  I  must  get  a  lodging 
nearer  the  theatre." 

"  And  leave  us?  I  should  miss  you  sadly." 

"  Oh ,  I,should  expect  you  to  come  too,"  said  Helen.  "  "We 
would  hire  rooms  close  together.  But  perhaps  it  will  not 
be  necessary." 

So  Helen  ijindertook  to  return  from  the  theatre  alone. 
She  might  indeed  have  had  her  father's  escort  by  asking  for 
it,  but  she  feared  it  would  prove  an  interruption  to  his 
labors,  and  perhaps  deprive  him  of  the  rest  which  he 
required.    But  an  incident  happened  on  the  second  evening 

120 


HEBBERT  COLEMAN.  127 

which  convinced  her  that  it  was  not  safe  for  her  to  walk 
home  unattended. 

Singing  at  a  popular  theatre,  Helen's  face  naturally  be- 
came familiar  to  those  who  frequented  it.  There  were  some 
among  them  who  were  struck  by  her  beauty,  and  desu-ed  to 
see  her  off  the  stage.  It  happened  that  a  young  man  was 
standing  near  the  door  of  the  theatre  one  evening  when 
Helen  emerged  from  it.  He  quietly  followed  her  until  she 
reached  an  unfrequented  side  street  through  which  she  was 
obliged  to  pass,  and  then  pressed  to  her  side. 

"  Good  evening,  Miss  Ford,"  he  said,  accommodating  his 
pace  to  hers. 

Helen  looked  up  startled,  and  met  an  unfamiliar  face. 
She  remained  silent  through  terror. 

"Good  evening,"  repeated  her  unwelcome  companion. 
"  I  hardly  think  you  heard  me  the  first  time." 

**  I  don't  know  you,  sir." 

"Allow  me  to  remedy  that.  My  name  is  Albert  Grover, 
at  your  service." 

"  I  beg  you  will  leave  me,  sir,"  said  Helen,  her  heart  beat- 
ing rapidly. 

"  I  would  rather  not,  indeed.  You  are  alone,  and  require 
an  escort." 

"  I  would  rather  not  trouble  you,  sir ;  I  shall  do  very  well 
alone." 

"It  is  no  trouble  whatever — on  the  contrary,  quite  a 
pleasure.    Will  you  accept  my  arm?" 

"  No,  sir,  I  would  much  rather  not." 

"  Upon  my  word,  you  are  not  treating  me  well.  When  I 
announce  myself  as  one  of  the  warmest  admirers  of  your 
charming  voice,  I  am  sure  you  will  not  be  cruel  enough  to 
repulse  me.  Let  me  insist,  then,  upon  your  accepting  my 
arm  for  the  remainder  of  your  walk." 


28  HELEN   FOBB. 

Helen  was  quite  terrified  by  the  young  man's  persist- 
ency. Too  young  to  fear  any  perU  except  the  annoyance 
of  the  present  moment,  she  felt  an  apprehension  which  she 
could  not  define. 

"  Pray,  leave  me,  sir,"  she  said,  in  accents  of  entreaty. 

"  I  am  sure  you  don't  mean  that,"  returned  her  persecutor, 
endeavoring  to  place  her  arm  in  his. 

Helen  screamed  faintly.  Her  call  was  instantly  an- 
swered. 

"  Leave  this  young  lady  alone,"  said  a  manly  voice,  the 
owner  of  which  seized  Mr.  Albert  Grover  with  a  vigorous 
grasp. 

"  Who  are  you?"  demanded  the  young  man  endeavoring, 
but  without  success,  to  free  himself  firom  his  unexpected 
assailant. 

"  What  you  do  not  appear  to  be,"  was  the  prompt  reply, 
"  a  gentleman.  Are  you  not  ashamed  to  annoy  a  defence- 
less girl  ?  " 

"  I  only  meant  to  see  her  home,"  was  the  sulky  reply. 

"  You  can  spare  yourself  the  trouble.  I  will  undertake 
that  duty." 

"O  Mr.  Coleman,  how  glad  I  am  you  came  upl"  said 
Helen,  clinging  to  her  new  protector,  in  whom  the  reader 
has  already  recognized  the  opposite  lodger. 

"  So  am  I.  But,  Miss  Ford,  do  you  know  how  imprudent 
it  is  for  you  to  be  out  at  this  hour  alone  ?  " 

"I  suppose  it  is,"  said  Helen;  "but  I  don't  know  what 
else  to  do.  Martha  Grey  used  to  come  for  me,  but  I  found 
It  was  too  much  for  her.  Papa  would  come,  but  he  works  so 
hard  that  I  don't  think  he  ought  to  come.  And  there  is  no 
one  else." 

"  I  see  how  it  is,"  said  the  young  man.  "  I  shall  come  for 
you  myself." 


HEBBEBT  COLEHAK.  129 

**  You,  Mr.  Coleman !  Oh,  no,  I  could  not  think  of  troub- 
ling you." 

**  Indeed,  it  will  be  no  trouble." 

"  If  it  were  for  only  one  evening.  But  every  evening,  it 
would  be  too  much." 

"  On  the  contrary,  it  will  be  pleasant  for  me.  I  am  in  my 
room  nearly  all  day,  hard  at  work.  In  the  evening  I  cannot 
work,  for  painting  requires  sunlight.  So  I  shall  only  be 
taking  the  exercise  I  need,  and  coming  for  you  will  give  me 
an  object  which  will  insure  my  taking  the  exercise  I  requke. 
Ton  see,  therefore,  that  it  is  a  selfish  arrangement  on  my 
part." 

"  I  see  that  you  are  very  kind,"  said  Helen,  gratefully. 
"  I  wish  there  were  any  way  in  which  I  could  repay  you." 

"  I  have  a  young  sister  at  home,  about  your  age.  If  she 
were  situated  as  you  are,  I  should  want  somebody  to  be  kind 
to  her.    Let  me  look  upon  you  as  my  sister." 

"  I  shall  be  very  glad  to  have  you,"  said  Helen,  her  con- 
fidence completely  won. 

"Then,  of  course,  I  shaU  not  call  you  Miss  Ford  any 
longer." 

"Why  not?" 

"  Because  that  would  be  too  formal  between  brother  and 
sister.    I  must  call  you  Helen." 

"  Yes,  if  you  like,"  said  the  child,  more  and  more  pleased, 
**  It  is  very  pleasant  to  have  a  brother." 

"  Then  you  will  call  me  Herbert?  " 

"  Is  that  your  name  ?  " 

**  Yes.    Will  you  call  me  so  ?  " 

"Perhaps  so,  by  and  by.  I  must  get  used  to  it,  yon 
know." 

^  I  think  that  will  soon  come,  for  we  shall  be  a  good  deal 
together  now." 

Helen  felt  quite  relieved  by  this  new  arrangement.    The 


ISO  HELEN   FOED. 

next  evening  Mr.  Coleman  presented  himself  promptly  at 
the  theatre,  thereby  disappointing  Albert  Grover,  who  was 
in  waiting  to  repeat  his  annoyance  of  the  previous  even- 
ing. 

"  You  may  as  well  give  it  up,"  said  Helen's  escort,  with  a 
significant  glance  at  the  young  man.  "Henceforth,  this 
young  lady  will  have  an  escort  able  and  willing  to  chastise 
all  who  are  disposed  to  offer  her  annoyance." 

Helen  clung  to  his  arm  with  a  feeling  of  unspeakable 
relief. 

"  Don't  tremble,  Helen,"  said  he,  kindly.  "  You  are  safe 
with  me." 

"  You  are  very  kind  to  me,"  said  Helen. 

"  That  is  my  duty.  You  have  promised  to  be  my  little 
sister,  you  know." 

"  Have  you  begun  a  new  picture  yet?  " 

"Not  yet.  I  thought  I  could  see  where  I  might  make 
some  alterations  for  the  better  in  the  picture  you  have  seen. 
I  shall  try  to  get  it  admitted  to  the  Academy  by  and  by, 
unless  I  succeed  first  in  obtaining  a  purchaser." 

"  It  is  so  beautiful,  I  should  think  it  would  be  easy  to  find 
a  purchaser." 

"  If  all  looked  at  it  with  your  partial  eyes,  Helen.  But 
I  have  no  reputation,  and  an  established  name  goes  a  great 
^ays." 

"  But  you  will  become  famous  some  day." 

"  I  hope  so,  but  it  wiU  be  many  years  first.  I  must  work 
for  bread  and  butter  before  I  work  for  fame." 

"  Can't  you  work  for  both  at  the  same  time  ?  " 

"  I  hope  so.  But  sometimes  an  artist,  under  the  spur  of 
necessity,  is  compelled  to  deny  his  highest  aspirations,  and 
work  for  present  profit.  From  that  temptation  I  am  relieved 
at  present,"  the  young  man  added,  laughing,  "since  my 
pencU  is  not  yet  in  demAnd." 


HERBEBT  COLEMAN.  181 

They  had  now  reached  the  door  of  the  lodging-house,  and 
stnmbled  up  the  dark  staircase  to  their  rooms. 

"  Good  night,  Mr.  Coleman,"  said  Helen. 

"  So  it  is  still  Mr.  Coleman?  " 

"  Good  night,  Herbert,"  said  Helen,  timidly. 

*^Good  night,  little  sister.  Grood  night,  and  pleasant 
ireams." 


CHAPTER  XX. 

THE   CANDLE   FLICKERS. 

Leaving  Margaret  to  recover  slowly  at  the  little  cottage 
under  her  mother^s  care,  and  Helen  and  her  father  to  the 
tranquil  existence  which,  though  humble,  contents  them,  we 
pass  to  a  nearer  view  of  Lewis  Rand  and  his  uncle,  whose 
last  days  are  imbittered  by  the  artfiil  machinations  of  his 
nephew. 

We  stand  before  a  palace-like  structure,  fronting  on  Fifth 
Avenue,  whose  imposing  exterior  scarcely  gives  an  adequate 
idea  of  the  interior  magnificence.  But  few  homes,  even  in 
that  aristocratic  quarter,  are  more  sumptuously  furnished. 
Yet  it  would  be  difficult  to  say  how  far  all  this  splendor 
contributes  to  the  happiness  of  its  owner.  Happiness  is 
quite  independent  of  wealth,  and  what  wealth  can  procure. 
Of  what  avail  is  it,  that  curtains  of  the  richest  damask  keep 
out  the  too  intrusive  simlight,  or  that  carpets  of  the  finest 
texture  cover  the  floors,  since  the  shutters  are  always  closed, 
and  the  magnificent  parlors  rarely  echo  the  steps  of  a  vis- 
itor? Of  what  avail  is  the  gallery  of  really  exquisite  paint- 
ings, selected  at  an  immense  cost  from  European  collections  ? 
Hidden  from  the  curious  eye,  lest  perchance  some  harm 
might  come  to  them,  never  looked  upon  by  the  possessor, 
they  might  as  well  be  buried  under  gi'ound,  so  far  as  conr^ 
cems  the  actual  enjoyment  derived  from  them. 

Mr.  Rand  has  never  recovered  from  the  loss  of  his  son. 
Great  as  was  the  shock  he  experienced  from  that  son's  ple- 
beian choice,  for  such  he  considered  it,  he  would  have  made 

132 


THE  CANDLE  FLICKEB3.  183 

advances  towards  a  reconciliation  long  before,  but  for  the 
vigilance  and  adroit  manoeuvring  of  his  nephew  Lewis. 
The  latter  well  knew  that  this  would  be  fatal  to  his  hopes 
of  succeeding  as  heir  presumptive  to  his  uncle's  immense 
wealth.  Accordingly,  as  soon  as  his  uncle's  first  passionate 
anger  began  to  show  signs  of  abatement,  he  was  persuaded 
by  Lewis  to  undertake  a  European  tour.  This  occupied 
several  years,  during  which  they  resided,  for  different  lengths 
of  time,  in  the  principal  European  capitals.  It  was  at  this 
time  that  most  of  the  articles  of  taste  and  luxury  which 
now  adorned  the  city  mansion  were  first  collected. 

But  there  is  nothing  that  can  supply  to  the  heart  the  place 
of  a  lost  affection.  Mr.  Rand  returned  to  America  restless 
and  unhappy  for  the  lack  of  that  which  his  own  act  had 
driven  from  him.  Had  his  son  been  at  hand,  he  would  have 
offered  to  receive  him  back,  but  it  was  not  till  some  time 
afterwards  that  he  heard  of  his  being  in  Chicago.  Whether 
Lewis  suspected  any  disposition  to  relent  is  not  certain,  but, 
as  we  have  already  seen,  he  thought  it  politic  to  give  his 
uncle  the  impression  that  his  cousin  was  dead.  Of  this  he 
did  not  find  it  difficult  then  to  convince  him,  and  so,  for  a 
time,  he  breathed  easier.  But  the  recent  glimpse  of  Robert 
had  aroused  in  the  father  a  hope  which  Lewis  found  it 
exceedingly  difficult  to  stifle.  To  this  hope  may  be  attrib- 
uted the  change  in  the  phraseology  of  the  will,  which  the 
nephew  had  taken  such  criminal  pains  to  neutralize.  He 
was  in  perpetual  apprehension  that  his  cousin  might,  by 
some  means,  learn  the  fact  of  his  father's  residence  in  the 
city,  and,  in  consequence,  make  an  attempt  to  obtain  an 
interview.  This  must  be  avoided  at  all  hazards.  The  quiet 
manner  in  which  they  lived  rendered  the  chance  of  discovery 
a  small  one,  and  the  present  alarming  illness  of  his  uncle, 
which  Lewis  regarded  as  a  fortunate  circumstance,  made 
that  chance  still  smaller. 

13 


134  HELEN   FORD. 

On  a  bed  in  one  of  the  most  elegantly  furnished  chambers 
in  his  princely  dwelling,  reposed  Mr.  Rand,  —  let  me  rather 
Bay  reclined,  for  his  quick,  restless  movements  indicated 
anything  but  repose.  His  white  hair  clung  disordered  about 
his  temples,  his  features  were  thin  and  careworn,  and  his 
whole  aspect  was  that  of  a  man  whose  life  is  ending  in 
anxiety  and  disappointment. 

Lewis  sat  by  the  bedside,  coldly  scrutinizing  the  wasted 
features,  as  if  calculating  how  long  life  can  retain  its  hold. 

"Will  he  never  die  —  never?"  thus  ran  his  thoughts. 
"  It  is  strange  with  what  tenacity  he  clings  to  life  ;  but  as 
long  as  he  remains  here,  prostrated  by  sickness,  I  am  toler- 
ably safe.  Still,  it  isn't  a  bad  plan,  which  I  have  in  train 
through  Sharp.  Although  the  chances  are  a  hundred  to  one 
in  my  favor,  the  bare  possibility  of  miscarriage  is  sufficient 
to  justify  every  precaution." 

"O  that  he  might  die  at  once!"  he  mentally  resumed, 
looking  impatiently  at  the  wasted  face.  "  Then  alone  will 
my  doubts  and  anxieties  be  at  an  end.  Then  I  shall  care 
little  how  often  I  may  meet  my  cousin  Robert.  He  will 
have  no  further  power  to  injure  or  thwart  me.  He  cannot 
last  long  now.  It  is  three  days  since  he  has  been  rational. 
He  must  die,  and  then ** 

Lewis  rose  and  paced  the  room  with  quick  strides,  while 
he  indulged  in  dreams  of  the  uses  to  which  he  would  apply 
the  rich  inheritance,  for  which  he  had  been  plotting  and 
scheming  for  so  many  years. 

He  was  interrupted  by  a  feeble  voice  from  the  bed. 

Lewis  turned  quickly  towards  the  bed,  and  the  face  of  the 
cunning  dissembler  at  once  assumed  the  expression  of  pro- 
found sorrow  and  sympathy. 

"  My  dear  uncle,"  he  said,  "  I  am  rejoiced  to  find  that  yoa 
are  once  more  yourself.    How  do  you  feel  ?  " 

"Weak,  Lewis,  very  weak,"  returned  the  sick  maik,  (gpeale* 


THE  CANDLE  FLICKERS.  135 

tng  with  difficulty.  "  I  feel  that  my  life  is  nearing  its 
close." 

"  Don't  say  that,  uncle,"  said  Lewis,  with  well  dissembled 
emotion ;  "  I  cannot  bear  to  part  with  you.  Live  for  me,  if 
not  for  yourself.  If  you  should  die,  what  is  there  left  to 
me?  Through  so  many  years  I  have  renounced,  all  other 
ties,  and  devoted  myself  to  you.  You  must  not  leave  me 
aow." 

The  artful  dissembler  applied  his  handkerchief  to  his  eyes, 
possibly  to  hide  the  gleam  of  joyful  anticipation  which  he 
could  with  difficulty  conceal. 

"  Yes,  Lewis,"  said  Mr.  Rand,  affected  by  his  nepheVs 
apparent  emotion;  "you  have  indeed  been  devoted  to  me. 
You  will  find,  after  my  death,  that  I  have  not  been  ungrate- 
ful. Your  affection  leads  you  to  wish  my  life  prolonged, 
but  when  the  tongue  falters,  and  the  pulse  grows  weak,  and 
the  throbbing  heart  is  almost  still,  man  should  not  presump- 
tuously strive  to  call  back  the  gift  which  God  is  about  to 
take  away." 

"  My  dear  uncle,  I  am  convinced  that  you  are  unneces- 
sarily alarmed.    You  will  yet  live  many  years.". 

"  Hope  it  not,  Lewis,"  said  the  sick  man,  who  was  far 
from  suspecting  how  unnecessary  this  admonition  was; 
*'  hope  it  not."  I  know  my  time  is  short.  At  such  a  time, 
Lewis,  our  past  actions  assume  a  very  different  aspect  from 
that  in  which  we  have  been  wont  to  regard  them.  Now 
when  it  is  too  late,  I  can  see  how  by  my  foolish  pride,  I  have 
wrecked  my  own  happiness,  and  perhaps  —  God  forgive  me 
—that  of  him  I  loved  best  in  life,  my  son  Robert." 

Lewis  was  uneasy  at  the  turn  the  conversation  was  taking, 
and  made  an  effort  to  divert  it. 

"  I  think,  sir,"  he  said,  "  that  you  are  blaming  yourself 
without  adeq  late  cause.    Much  as  I  loved  my  cousin,  I  am 


186  HELEN   FOBD. 

forced  to  acknowledge  that  he  justly  forfeited  his  claims  to 
your  favor  and  affection." 

"Forfeited  my  affection!  And  shall  we,  weak,  erring 
mortals,  in  our  presumption  dare  to  affix  such  a  penalty  to 
what  may  after  all  be  only  an  offence  against  our  own 
unworthy  pride  ?  I  feel  that  I  was  wrong.  I  should  not  have 
condemned  Robert's  choice  without  having  seen  his  wife, 
and  if  she  was  really  worthy,  I  should  have  given  my  con- 
sent." 

"  But,  consider  her  birth." 

"  When  you  come  to  lie  on  your  death-bed  as  I  do  now," 
said  the  sick  man,  solemnly,  "  such  considerations  will 
dwindle  into  their  proper  insignificance.  Why  should  I  claim 
superiority  over  any  being  whom  the  same  kind  Father  has 
made?  When  death  is  near  us,  our  vision  becomes  clearer. 
The  scales  of  prejudice  are  rent  away,  and  we  see  things  as 
they  are." 

Lewis  was  silent.  He  was  seeking  some  way  of  diverting 
the  conversation  into  a  less  dangerous  channel. 

"  While  I  have  been  lying  here,"  resumed  "Mr,  Rand,  "  I 
have  been  haunted  by  a  conviction  that  Robert  is  still  liv- 
ing, or  that  he  may  have  left  issue." 

"  My  dear  uncle,"  interrupted  Lewis  ;  in  alarm,  "  let  me 
entreat  you  not  to  disturb  yourself  by  such  thoughts ;  call 
to  mind  how  direct  were  the  proofs  of  his  death." 

"  I  know  all  that  you  would  urge,  Lewis,  but  there  have 
been  cases  where  the  death  of  a  person  of  similar  name  has 
led  to  a  misapprehension.  It  may  have  been  so  in  this 
case.** 

"  It  is  scarcely  possible." 

"  Perhaps  you  are  right.  My  conviction  is  based  rather 
upon  my  feelings  than  upon  my  reason." 

"  Better  think  no  more  of  it,  uncle,  it  will  only  distress 
you." 


THE   CANDLE   FLICKERS.  187 

"Havf  I  not  done  so?  For  eighteen  years  I  have  been 
striving  t »  drive  away  the  thoughts  of  my  injustice.  But  it 
will  not  do.  I  miLst  think  of  it,  and  thinking  finds  relief 
in  speaking." 

"  But,  even  admitting  that  you  have  wronged  my  cousin 
Robert,  which,  in  justice  to  yourself  I  am  not  willing  to 
allow,  consider  that  your  will,  by  its  provisions,  makes  ample 
reparation  for  that  wrong." 

"  Poor,  at  best,  Lewis.  WiU  it  make  reparation  for  the 
estrangement  which  for  eighteen  years  has  kept  apart  father 
and  son  ?  That  cannot  be.  And  yet  I  would  fain  see  even 
this  poor  atonement  made." 

"  You  may  rely  upon  my  being  guided  by  your  wishes, 
uncle." 

"  I  doubt  it  not.  Yet  it  would  be  a  satisfaction  if  I,  who 
have  done  the  wrong,  could  have  the  privilege  of  repairing 
it  during  my  life.  Oh,  that  I  might  have  the  joy  and  bless- 
ing of  seeing  my  son  once  more  if  he  yet  lives  —  that  I 
might  ask  his  forgiveness  for  the  wrong  I  have  done  him ! " 

Lewis  was  seriously  troubled  at  his  uncle's  pertinacity, 
and  still  more  by  the  inquiry  which  followed. 

"  Don't  you  think,  Lewis,  it  would  be  well  to  advertise  in 
the  daily  papers,  for  Robert  Rand  or  his  descendants,  if  he 
should  have  any  ?  " 

"  It  would  be  useless,"  said  Lewis,  shaking  his  head.  "It 
would  only  be  throwing  the  money  away." 

"  And  what  is  money  to  me  ?  Nothing,  nothing,  compared 
with  the  thought  I  have  done  something,  however  little, 
towards  expiating  my  injustice.  I  wish,  Lewis,  you  would 
draw  up  an  advertisement,  and  see  it  inserted." 

However  distasteful  this  proposal  was  to  Lewis,  it  would 
not  do  to  object.  He  therefore,  with  an  appearance  of 
alacrity,  procured  writing  materials,  and  prepared  such  an 
advertisement  as  his  uncle  desired.    He  read  it  to  the  sick 

IS* 


188  HELEN    FOBD. 

mftn  who  signified  his  approval,  and  requested  Lewis  to  prO" 
cure  its  insertion  in  the  principal  daily  papers  forthwith. 
This  Lewis  undertook  to  do. 

But  the  advertisement  never  appeared  I 

Lewis  dared  not  permit  this,  knowing  that  Ms  cousin  was 
fWjtually  in  the  city,  and  that  it  would  be  likely  to  meet  his 
eye. 

Had  his  uncle  been  in  the  habit  of  reading  the  daily 
papers,  it  could  not  safely  have  been  suppressed.  But  he 
was  too  sick  for  that,  and  there  was  no  prospect  of  his 
becoming  better.  He  had  of  course  no  suspicion  of  Lewises 
double  dealing,  but  trusted  implicitly  to  him.  Day  after 
day  he  inquired  anxiously  if  there  was  any  answer  to  the 
advertisement.  As  often  Lewis  replied  in  the  negative,  and 
Mr.  Rand  would  sink  back  upon  his  pillow  with  a  sigh  of 
disappointment. 

Once  Lewis  ventured  to  suggest  that  it  would  be  well  to 
discontinue  the  advertisement. 

"  No,  no,"  said  his  uncle,  "  let  it  be  continued  while  I 
live.  And  after  that  I  depend  upon  you  to  leave  no  effort 
unmade  to  discover  some  trace  of  my  lost  son." 

"  You  know  me  too  well,  to  doubt  that  I  will  follow  your 
instructions  to  the  letter." 

*'  Yes,  Lewis,"  said  his  uncle.  "  You  have  been  very 
kind  to  me.  You  deserve  all  my  confidence,  and  you  pos- 
sess it." 

So  Lewis  continued  to  keep  watch  by  his  uncle's  bedside, 
a  daily  witness  of  his  restlessness  and  unhappiness,  and 
knowing  full  well  that  in  an  hour's  space,  he  could  bring  peace 
and  comfort  to  the  dying  man  by  restoring  his  son  to  him ; 
even  at  the  eleventh  hour,  he  refused  to  speak  the  word  that 
eould  have  wrought  the  blessed  change. 

God  grant  that  there  be  not  many  hearts  as  hard  I 


CHAPTER  XXI. 

A  CONSULTATION. 

Mr.  Sharp  was  seated  in  his  office.  A  complacent  smile 
played  over  his  features.  Perhaps  he  was  thinlving  of  the 
adroit  manner  in  which  he  had  secured  one  hundred  dollars 
of  the  sum  intrusted  to  him  for  Eobert  Ford.  The  bottle 
and  glass,  on  the  table  before  him,  testified  that  his  present 
occupation  could  hardly  be  considered  of  a  professional 
character. 

While  Mr.  Sharp  was  holding  up  the  glass  before  him, 
and  admiring  the  rich  warm  tint  of  its  contents,  Lewis  Rand 
quietly  opened  the  door  of  the  oflSce  and  walked  in.  Had 
Mr.  Sharp  been  consulted,  he  would  prefer  to  have  been 
forewarned  of  the  visit. 

"  Business  driving  as  ever,"  remarked  Lewis,  in  his  dry 
sarcastic  way,  taking  in  at  a  quick  glance  the  scene  before  him. 

'*  Well,  yes,"  said  Mr.  Sharp,  in  some  embarrassment, 
putting  down  his  glass,  its  contents  untasted. 

It  may  be  remai*ked,  that  whenever  Mr.  Sharp  was  per- 
plexed, it  was  his  habit  to  run  his  hands  vigorously  through 
Ms  blushing  locks,  till  they  stood  upon  his  head  erect,  and 
bristled  like  so  many  porcupine  quills.  By  the  time  this  was 
well  over  his  faculties  returned,  and  "  Richard  was  himself 
again."  To  this  he  had  recourse  on  the  present  occasion, 
immediately  after  which  he  resumed  his  usual  air  of  easy 
assurance. 

"  I  am,  as  you  see,"  he  remarked  affably,  "  taking  my 
little  symposium,  in  humble  imitation  of  the  ancient  Greeks 

139 


140  SELXK    FOBD. 

and  Romans, —  *  Champagne,'  as  somebody  has  said,  *  is  ad- 
mirably calculated  to  clear  cobwebs  from  the  brain/  " 

"  In  that  case,"  dryly  returned  his  client,  who  could  not 
resist  the  temptation  of  a  hit  at  his  coadjutor,  "  1  advise 
you  by  all  means  to  try  it." 

"  Truly,"  replied  Mr.  Sharp,  who  was  dimly  conscious  of 
the  covert  sarcasm,  but  deemed  it  politic  not  to  notice  it 
directly,  "there  is  no  profession  that  racks  the  brain  like 
mine,  sir.  The  mightiest  intellects  of  ancient  as  well  as  of 
modern  times " 

Mr.  Sharp  here  assumed  a  standing  posture,  and  was 
about  to  pronounce  a  eulogy  upon  the  different  great  men 
who  had,  during  the  last  twenty  centuries,  graced  the  pro- 
fession which  he  adorned. 

But  the  lawyer  was  saved  the  trouble  of  proceeding,  by 
the  expression  of  a  wish  on  the  part  of  Lewis  to  attend  to 
business. 

"  Certainly,  by  all  means,"  said  Mr.  Sharp,  briskly  resum- 
ing his  seat,  and  drawing  before  him  a  sheet  of  blank  paper. 
Business  before  pleasure,  or  rather,  with  me,  business  is 
pleasure." 

"  I  have,  as  you  know,"  Lewis  commenced,  "  lent  the 
sum  of  three  hundred  dollars  to  Robert  Ford,  through  your 
agency." 

*'  And  very  liberal  it  was  in  you,  I  am  sure,"  said  Mr. 
Sharp,  with  benignant  approval. 

"  By  no  means.  I  never  professed  to  be  a  philanthropist, 
and  I  freely  acknowledge  that  in  this  act  I  was  influenced  by 
any  but  benevolent  motives.  It  was  done  solely  with  a  view 
to  promote  my  own  interests." 

Here  he  paused  ;  and  Mr.  Sharp,  while  waiting  for  a  fur- 
ther explanation,  rubbed  his  hands  and  nodded  genially, 
as  if  to  indicate  how  thoroughly  he  indorsed  the  views  of 
bis  principal. 


A  CONSULTATION.  141 

"  I  need  not  remind  you,"  continued  Lewis,  not  heeding 
this  little  manifestation,  "  of  how  great  importance  it  is  to  me 
that  Robert  Ford,  who  is  the  only  obstacle  between  me  and 
his  father's  fortune,  should  be  kept  entirely  out  of  the  way 
of  any  possibility  of  meeting  his  father.  Such  an  encounter 
fortunately  is  not  very  probable,  since  neither  is  aware  of 
the  other's  presence  in  the  city.  When,  however  I  consider 
how  trifling  a  chance,  such  for  instance  as  a  glance  at  a 
Directory,  might  lead  to  that  knowledge,  I  feel  more  and 
more  how  essential  it  is  to  my  interests  that  some  decisive 
step  should  be  taken.  I  may  say  in  confirmation  of  this, 
that  my  uncle,  whose  health  is  in  a  very  critical  state,  has 
conceived  a  fancy,  Heaven  knows  how,  that  my  cousin  is 
stiQ  alive,  no  withstanding  the  evidence  of  his  death  in 
Chicago,  which  I  placed  in  his  hands." 

"  That  is  awkward." 
^  "  Yes,  it  is  very  awkward,  especially  as  he  has  insisted  on 
my  drawing  up  an  advertisement  for  this  precious  cousin  of 
mine,  and  having  it  inserted  in  the  daily  papers." 

"  And  you  have  done  so  ?  " 

"  Not  I.  It  would  be  suicidal.  I  drew  up  the  advertise- 
ment, however,  as  he  requested,  and  he  supposes  that  it  has 
been  inserted." 

Mr.  Sharp  surveyed  Lewis  with  a  glance  of  approval.  It 
was  a  tribute  to  superior  rascality. 

"Now  I  will  explain  to  you,"  pursued  Lewis,  "why  I 
have  lent  money  to  Robert  Ford.  My  uncle  is  dangerously 
iU ;  he  cannot  live  many  weeks  at  farthest.  It  is  absolutely 
essential  that  some  attempt  should  be  made  to  place  my  cou- 
sin where  he  cannot  do  me  any  harm.  If  the  laws  permitted 
it,  I  would  gladly  have  him  imprisoned  for  debt.  That  is, 
unluckily,  out  of  the  question.  I  have  it  in  my  power,  how- 
ever, to  annoy  him  in  such  a  way  as  perhaps  to  drive  him 
from  the  city. 


142  HELEN   FOKD. 

"  What  do  you  propose  to  do? *' 

"  Seize  the  furniture  in  execution,  either  with  or  without 
legal  sanction.  Robert  is  far  from  being  a  man  of  the  worlds 
and  there  is  no  risk  in  going  to  lengths  with  him,  whidi 
would  be  dangerous  with  others." 

"  I  have  it,"  said  Sharp,  eagerly. 

"  Well." 

"  Your  cousin  is  quite  devoted  to  a  heap  of  old  machinery 5, 
ccit  of  which  he  expects  to  make  a  flying  machine  or  some- 
thing of  the  kind.  To  seize  upon  that  would  be  the  most 
serious  blow  you  could  inflict  upon  him." 

"  I  believe  you  are  right.  Robert  was  always  a  visionary. 
£f  that  should  prove  insufficient  to  drive  him  away,  I  will 
authorize  you  to  offer  him  some  pecuninary  inducements 
in  a  guarded  manner  —  some  remunerative  employment  which 
will  call  him  elsewhere,  and  which  he  will  be  the  more  tempt- 
ed to  undertake  if  his  present  occupation  is  gone.  Only  let 
him  be  kept  out  of  the  way  until " 

"  You  are  called  upon  to  lament  the  death  of  your  ven- 
erable relation,"  suggested  Sharp. 

"  Then,"  pursued  Lewis,  "  he  may  go  where  he  pleases,  so 
fkr  as  I  am  concerned." 

"  My  dear  sir,  you  should  have  been  a  lawyer.  You  would 
have  been  an  ornament  to  the  profession,"  said  Mr.  Sharp^ 
with  complimentary  emphasis. 

"  Rather  an  equivocal  compliment,  I  am  afraid,"  returned 
Lewis,  dryly.  "  But  in  order  to  carry  out  this  plan  of  ours, 
beyond  a  doubt,  we  must  ascertain  that  my  cousin  will  be 
unable  to  pay  the  money  when  called  upon." 

"  I  think  I  may  pledge  you,"  said  the  lawyer,  "  that  you 
need  entertain  no  apprehensions  on  that  score.  From  what 
I  have  seen  I  conjecture  that  at  the  time  of  your  loan  he 
had  but  little  money  on  hand,  and  I  know  that  he  has  expend* 
ed  a  considerable  sum  since." 


A  CONSULTATION.  14S 

"  It  is  best  to  be  certain,  however." 

"  Undoubtedly.  I  will  myself  call  down  there  this  after* 
noon,  if  you  think  best,  and  ascertain  this  point  without 
exciting  his  suspicions." 

"  Do  so ;  and  should  you  find  the  prospect  fayorable,  take 
measures  to  have  the  demand  presented  to-morrow.  If  not 
discharged,  you  know  how  to  proceed." 

"You  may  rely  upon  my  following  your  directions  to 
the  letter,"  returned  the  attorney,  as  sweeping  his  fingers 
once  more  through  his  blushing  locks,  he  bowed  his  client 
gracefully  out. 


CHAPTER  XXTT. 

FBEPABING  THE  WAT. 

Promptness  was  one  of  the  valuable  characteristics  of  Mr. 
Sharp.    But  no  general  remark  is  without  its  exceptions. 

On  the  present  occasion  our  legal  friend  decided  to  call 
at  once  on  ]\Ir.  Ford,  in  pursuance  of  the  commission  which 
he  received  from  Lewis  Rand.  It  involved  a  species  of 
double  dealing  for  which  Mr.  Sharp  felt  that  he  had  peculiar 
qualifications. 

Taking  down  from  the  nail  his  invariable  white  hat,  he 
adjusted  it  somewhat  jauntily  upon  his  head,  and  walked 
forth  with  a  benevolent  smile  irradiating  his  countenance, 
as  if  he  were  meditating  some  scheme  by  which  he  expected 
to  add  largely  to  the  sum-total  of  human  happiness.  There 
are  others  than  he  who  go  out  with  a  smile  upon  the  lips,  but 
an  evil  piu^ose  in  their  hearts. 

The  lawyer  took  his  way  to  Mrs,  Morton^s  lodging-house. 
He  went  up  stairs,  and  entered  Mr.  Ford's  room  without 
ceremony,  knowing  that  Helen  would  be  absent  at  that  hour, 
and  that  the  habitual  abstraction  of  her  father  would  proba- 
bly prevent  his  knock  being  heard. 

"  Ah,  good  afternoon,  Mr.  Ford,"  he  said,  with  affability, 
cordially  grasping  the  inventor's  hand.  "  StUl  at  your  work, 
I  see.  I  could  not  resist  the  impulse  to  call  and  inquire 
after  your  progress.  It  seems  such  a  welcome  relief  to  come 
from  the  close,  dusty  court-room  to  this  little  retreat  of 
yours.     And  how  are  you  getting  on,  my  dear  friend  ?  " 

"  I  am  advancing  as  rapidly  as  I  anticipated,"  said  Mr. 


PEEPAEING  THE  WA.T.  145 

Ford,  pausing  in  the  midst  of  an  intricate  calculation.  *'  I 
feel  that  I  have  every  reason  to  be  encouraged." 

"  I  am  delighted  to  hear  it,"  exclaimed  the  lawyer,  with 
Mendly  enthusiasm.  "  Then  you  really  think  that  before 
many  years  we  shall  be  able  to  sMm  from  country  to  coun- 
try on  the  wings  of  the  wind,  so  to  speak." 

"  I  have  not  a  doubt  of  it,"  answered  the  inventor,  in  a 
tone  of  quiet  confidence.  "  We  already  know  how  great  a 
degree  of  speed  has  been  attained  by  our  steamers  and 
locomotives,  in  the  face  of  far  greater  obstacles  than  are  to 
be  encountered  in  the  case  of  aerial  navigation.  The  great 
impediment  to  the  speed  of  the  locomotive  is,  as  you  are 
doubtless  aware,  the  friction  that  necessarily  results  from 
its  constant  contact  with  the  earth." 

Mr.  Sharp  nodded  assent. 

"  While  the  speed  of  the  ocean-steamer  is  in  like  manner 
Tcry  materially  lessened  by  the  resistance  of  the  water." 

Mr.  Sharp  had  often  been  struck  by  this  very  thought. 
Indeed,  he  had  expended  considerable  time  and  thought  in 
the  leisure  stolen  from  his  professional  cares  in  attempting 
to  devise  means  for  remedying  to  some  extent  these  causes 
of  loss.  For,  as  he  had  before  assured  Mr.  Ford,  though  a 
lawyer  by  profession,  his  tastes  lay  in  quite  a  different 
direction. 

"  Now  in  traversing  the  air,"  continued  IRIr.  Ford,  "  we 
have  the  advantage  of  not  being  obliged  to  contend  either 
with  the  friction  generated  by  constant  contact  with  the 
earth,  or  with  the  resistance  of  a  foreign  element  like  water. 
All  that  needs  to  be  overcome  is  the  resistance  of  the  air, 
which  is  no  greater  than  in  the  other  cases,  while  the  other 
obstacles  are  removed." 

"  Very  true,"  said  Mr.  Sharp,  with  an  air  of  profound 
conviction. 

"All  that  is  needed  to  establish  aerial  navigation  on  a 

13 


146  HSLSN    TOBD. 

firm  basis  is  to  find  some  means  of  steadying  and  regulating 
the  motion,  which  no  doubt  would  be  incredibly  rapid.  It 
Is  intended  that  the  machine  shall  partake  of  the  nature  of  a 
balloon,  as  buoyancy  will  of  course  be  requisite. 

"  My  dear  sir,"  said  Mr.  Sharp,  warmly  grasping  the  hand 
of  the  inventor,  "  nothing  could  be  more  clear  and  lucid 
than  your  explanation.  The  same  course  of  reasoning,  if 
you  will  permit  me  to  say  so,  has  more  than  once  suggested 
itself  to  me,  but,  if  I  may  be  allowed  the  expression,  it  is  an 
idiosyncrasy  of  mine  to  possess  more  theoretical  than  prac- 
tical ability.  Therefore  eren  if  my  many  engagements  would 
suffer  it,  I  doubt  whether  I  should  become  a  successful 
inventor.  You,  my  dear  sir,  who  so  happily  combine  both, 
are  admirably  adapted  to  that  high  vocation." 

"  I  ought  to  succeed,"  said  lilr.  Ford,  with  a  little  sigh, 
"  if  the  labor  and  thought  of  many  years  employed  in  one 
direction  can  achieve  success." 

"  I  hope,"  said  the  visitor,  as  if  the  question  had  just 
occurred  to  him,  "  that  you  have  made  free  use  of  the  money 
it  was  my  privilege  to  offer  you  recently." 

Mr.  Ford  replied  gratefully,  that  he  had  expended  about 
one  half  of  it.    He  hoped  to  be  able  to  repay  it  some  day. 

"  Of  course,"  argued  the  lawyer  to  himself,  "  he  could  not 
pay  it  now.    That  is  what  I  wanted  to  know." 

"  I  ought  perhaps  to  mention,"  he  said,  carelessly,  "  that 
having  a  large  claim  unexpectedly  presented  for  payment 
yesterday,  I  raised  money  upon  your  note,  expressly  stipulate 
ing  that  you  should  not  be  called  upon  for  it,  as  I  should  be 
able  to  redeem  it  in  a  day  or  two." 

"  You  are  very  kind,"  said  Mr.  Ford.  "  Perhaps  I  had 
better  return  you  the  money  yet  remaining  in  my  hands." 

"By  no  means,  my  dear  sir,"  exclaimed  Mr.  Sharp,  almost 
indignantly;  "shall  I  recall  the  humble  offering  which  I 
have  laid  upon  the  altar  of  science?    Nay,  I  am  resolved 


FBEPABIKG  THE  WAT.  147 

that  my  name  shall  be  humbly  comiected  with  youi«,  when 
the  world  has  learned  to  recognize  your  genius,  and  numbers 
you  among  its  benefactors." 

How  was  it  possible  to  suspect  a  friendship  so  disint^» 
Mted? 


CHAPTER  XXin. 

THB  BLOW  FAJLLS. 

The  next  morning  found  Mr.  Sharp  closeted  with  a  "brother 
practitioner  equally  unprincipled  with  himself.  There  was 
this  difference  between  them,  however,  that  while  Mr.  Sharp 
concealed  his  real  character  beneath  a  specious  show  of 
affability  and  suavity,  his  companion,  whom,  by  way  of 
distinction,  we  will  call  Blunt,  was  rough  in  his  manners, 
and  had  not  art  enough  to  compass  the  consummate  duplic- 
ity of  the  other.  Indeed,  so  accustomed  was  Mr.  Sharp  to 
its  use,  that  he  did  not  lay  it  aside  even  where  he  knew  it  to 
be  useless. 

"My  dear  friend  Blunt,"  he  exclaimed,  with  charming 
cordiality,  "  I  am  delighted  to  see  you  looking  so  well." 

"  Humph  I  "  was  the  somewhat  dubious  rejoinder. 

"  I  should  have  called  upon  you  instead  of  sending  for 
you  to  my  oflSce,  but  I  have  really  been  so  harassed  by 
business  that  I  could  not  get  a  single  spare  moment." 

"  And  you  presumed  that  I  was  not  overburdened  in 
that  way,  eh?" 

"  My  dear  Blunt,"  said  Sharp,  with  wounded  feeling, 
"how  can  you  imagine  such  a  thing?  " 

"  I  only  judged  from  what  you  said.  You  hadn't  time  to 
eall  upon  me,  but  judged  that  I  had  plenty  of  time  to  spend 
in  calling  upon  you." 

"My  dear  Blunt,"  said  Sharp,  impressively,  "if  the 
extent  of  a  man's  business  were  always  commensurate  with 
his  merits " 

148 


THE    BLOW  FALLS.  149 

"  We  should  neither  of  us  stand  a  very  good  chance." 

"  That  was  not  exactly  what  I  intended  to  say,"  said 
Sharp,  blowing  his  nose,  "  your  modesty,  my  dear  Blunt *^ 

"  Modesty !  I  am  sure  you're  joking  now.  Sharp,  and 
although  my  time  is  not  particularly  valuable,  I  don't  care 
to  stand  here  discussing  personal  qualities ;  so  if  you  had 
any  object  in  sending  for  me,  out  with  it." 

"You  are  somewhat  abrupt  in  your  speech,  my  dear 
friend ;  an  evidence  of  your  sincerity,  for  which  no  one  has 
a  greater  respect  than  myself." 

"  I  have  heard,"  muttered  Blunt,  that  people  are  apt  to 
set  a  high  value  on  qualities  which  they  lack." 

"  However,"  pursued  Sharp,  evading  a  reply  to  his  last 
remark,  "  I  have  a  little  professional  business  to  offer  you,  if 
your  engagement  will  permit." 

"  No  fear  on  that  score,"  said  Blunt,  dryly ;  "  but  this 
business — why  don't  you  do  it  yourself?  You  needn't  tell 
me  it's  on  account  of  a  pressure  of  the  other  engagements, 
for  I  know  better." 

"  That  is  not  the  reason,  as  with  your  usual  penetration 
you  have  discovered,  my  dear  Blunt.  Do  not  for  a  moment 
think  I  would  attempt  to  deceive  you.  With  others  it 
might  do ;  but  with  you  I  know  there  would  be  no  chance  of 
succeeding." 

Mr.  Sharp  nodded  with  pleasant  affability  to  his  visitor, 
and  resumed :  "  The  fact  is,  it  is  a  matter  in  which  I  do 
not  wish  to  appear.  One  of  my  clients  (Mr.  Sharp  brought 
out  these  words  with  an  emphasis  calculated  to  convey  the 
idea  that  it  was  one  of  a  very  large  number),  for  a  reason 
which  I  need  not  mention,  employed  me  some  weeks  since 
to  lend  a  sum  of  money  to  a  certain  individual.  This  was 
only  to  establish  a  power  over  liim  which,  some  time,  it 
might  be  convenient  to  use.  That  time  has  come  ;  it  is  his 
desire  that  the  note  should  be  presented  with  a  demand 

13* 


150  HELEN     FORD. 

for  immediate  payment-  in  default  of  which  a  particulai 
article  in  possession  of  the  borrower  should  be  seized  in 
execution.  This,  as  you  may  readily  imagine,  would  have  a 
tendency  to  harrow  up  my  feelings,  and  -—  " 

"  Therefore  you  intrust  the  business  to  me,  who  have  nc 
feelings  to  be  harrowed  up." 

"  My  dear  Blunt,  I  desire  you  to  undertake  this,  because 
of  your  superior  strength  of  mind.  I  am  well  aware  of  my 
own  deficiency  in  that  respect." 

"  Well,  well,  have  it  as  you  will.  I  won*t  trouble  you  to 
assign  reasons  for  throwing  business  into  my  hands.  I  sha'n*t 
let  any  scruples  stand  between  me  and  my  own  interest. 
Where's  the  note  I " 

"  One  thing  more,"  said  Sharp,  slowly  unclasping  the  wal- 
let which  contained  the  note.  "  This  man  —  Robert  Ford  — 
thinks  I  lent  him  the  money  on  my  own  responsibility,  and 
naturally  regards  me  as  a  firm  friend.  I  called  on  him  yes- 
terday, and  hinted  that  I  had  been  forced  to  raise  money  to 
meet  a  pressing  engagement,  and  had  given  up  this  note  as 
collateral,  on  condition  that  it  should  not  be  presented. 
Very  probably  he  may  mention  this.  I  don't  wish  him  to 
suspect  that  there  is  any  understanding  between  us,  as  it 
will  destroy  what  little  influence  I  may  have  over  him.  You 
will  be  kind  enough,  therefore,  to  say  nothing  to  undeceive 
him  on  that  point,  and  if  you  could  make  it  convenient  to 
abuse  me  a  little,  just  to  show  that  there  is  no  collusion 
between  us,  I  should  regard  it  as  a  particular  favor." 

"  Abuse  you  I  I  will  do  it  with  the  greatest  pleasure  in 
the  world." 

"  I  toew  it,  my  dear  Blunt ;  it  was  what  I  expected  of 
your  friendship.  But  I  must  give  you  his  direction.  Have 
you  all  necessary  instructions  ?  " 

"  You  have  not  told  me  what  I  am  to  seize  on  execution? " 

"  Very  true,  an  important  omission.    You  must  know  that 


THE    BLOW   FALLS.  151 

this  Ford,  an  estimable  man,  by  the  way,  has  taken  a  fancy 
to  invent  a  flpng  machine,  and  to  that  end  has  collected  an 
odd  jumble  of  machinery.    This  is  what  I  wish  you  to 
seize.     Here  is  the  address." 
"  And  where  am  I  to  bring  it  ?  " 
"  You  may  as  well  bring  it  here.** 

"How  unfortunate  that  you  cannot  complete  the  inven- 
tion," said  Blunt,  dryly.  "  K  it  is  just  as  convenient  I 
shouldn't  mind  receiving  the  pay  in  advance  ;  not,"  he  con- 
tinued, with  a  pointed  imitation  of  his  companion's  manner, 
—  "  not  that  I  doubt  in  the  least  your  high-souled  integrity, 
my  dear  Sharp,  but  simply  because,  just  at  present,  singularly 
enough,  I  happen  to  be  out  of  cash." 

"  I  shall  be  most  happy  to  discharge  your  claim  forth- 
with," said  Sharp,  rather  ostentatiously  displaying  a  roll  of 
bills,  and  placing  a  five  in  the  hands  of  his  agent. 

Blunt  examined  the  bill  with  some  minuteness,  a  sudden 
suspicion  having  entered  his  mind  as  to  its  genuineness. 
Satisfied  on  this  point,  he  slipped  it  into  his  vest  pocket, 
saying,  "  All  right,  you  shall  hear  from  me  in  the  course  of 
the  day." 

An  hour  afterwards  a  loud  authoritative  knock  aroused 
Robert  Ford,  who,  it  is  needless  to  say,  was  employed  after 
Ms  usual  fashion. 

"Come  in  I" 

The  invitation  was  quickly  accepted  by  a  shock-headed 
man,  stout  and  burly,  who  without  ceremony  drew  out  a 
note,  and  said,  abruptly,  "  You  are  Robert  Ford,  I  presume  ?  ** 

"  That  is  my  name,  sir,"  said  the  inventor,  in  some 
surprise. 

"  Very  well.  Here  is  a  note  with  your  signature,  payable 
on  demand.  I  presume  it  will  be  perfectly  convenient  for 
you  to  pay  it  now." 

Mr.  Ford  took  the  note  with  an  absent  air,  and  said, 


152  HELEN   FORD. 

glancing  at  the  man  before  him,  "  Excuse  me,  but  I  do  not 
recollect  having  seen  you  before." 

"  Very  probably,"  said  Blunt,  with  sang  froid,  "  We 
never  had  the  pleasure  of  meeting  before." 

"  Then,"  said  the  inventor,  "  how  comes  it  that  you  have 
a  demand  against  me  ?  " 

"  K  you  will  take  the  trouble  to  examine  the  note,  yon 
will  find  that  it  comes  through  a  third  person,  Richard 
Sharp.    You  probably  remember  him." 

"  Yes,  I  know  him." 

Mr.  Ford  glanced  at  the  paper  in  his  hand. 

"  I  think  there  must  be  some  mistake,"  he  said.  "  The 
sum  should  be  two  hundred  dollars,  not  three." 

"  There  is  no  mistake,"  said  Blunt,  positively.  "It  is 
just  as  he  gave  it  to  me." 

"  Mr.  Shaip  mentioned  yesterday,"  said  ISIr.  Ford,  with 
a  sudden  effort  at  recollection,  "  that  he  had  parted  with  this 
note  to  some  one,  but  on  condition  that  it  should  not  be 
presented.    You  had  better  see  him  about  it." 

"  I  have  nothing  further  to  do  with  him,"  replied  Blunt, 
"  I  believe  he  did  mention  something  of  the  kind ;  but  of 
course  he  cannot  expect  me  to  keep  this  note  when  I  want 
the  money .*^ 

"Then,  sir,"  said  Mr.  Ford,  "if,  as  you  admit,  Mr. 
Sharp  made  this  condition,  it  is  incumbent  on  you,  as  a  man 
of  honor,  to  keep  it.  I  am  sure  it  is  very  far  from  Mr. 
Sharp's  intention  to  trouble  me  for  the  payment  of  a  sufii 
which  he  loaned  without  the  expectation  of  immediate 
repayment.  I  should  wrong  his  disinterested  generosity  by 
harboring  such  a  suspicion." 

"  His  disinterested  generosity  1 "  repeated  Blunt,  with  a 
loud  laugh. 

"  Sir,"  said  the  inventor,  with  calm  dignity,  "  I  must 
request  you  to  forbear  insinuating  by  word  or  manner  any- 


THE  BLOW  PALLS.  153 

thing  derogatory  to  a  man  who  has  proved  himself  my  bene- 
factor, and,  solely  impelled  by  his  interest  in  science,  has 
offered  me  the  aid  of  his  purse,  without  even  an  application 
on  my  part." 

"  Very  well,"  said  Blunt,  "  although  it's  rather  amusing 
to  me  to  hear  Sharp  spoken  of  as  interested  in  science,  I 
won*t  quarrel  with  your  opinion  of  him,  especially  as  his 
character  isn't  in  question  just  now.  The  main  point  is,  can 
you  pay  this  note?  " 

"I  cannot." 

"  Then  I  shall  be  under  the  disagreeable  necessity  of  call- 
ing two  of  my  friends  in  waiting." 

Two  Irishmen,  who  appeared  to  have  been  waiting  out- 
side, entered  at  Blunt's  call. 

"  Take  that  machinery,"  said  Blunt,  in  a  tone  of  com- 
mand, "  and  carry  it  down  stairs." 

"  Stay  I "  said  Mr.  Ford,  in  alarm ;  "  what  do  you  intend 
to  do?" 

"  I  am  only  acting  in  self-defence,"  said  Blunt,  doggedly. 
**  You  cannot  pay  your  money.  K  I  can't  get  my  pay  in 
one  way,  I  must  in  another ;  therefore,  I  take  this  machinery 
of  yours  in  execution." 

The  thought  of  this  calamity  nearly  overcame  Mr.  Ford. 
He  did  not  pause  to  consider  whether  the  seizure  was  legal 
or  illegal,  but,  in  an  agitated  voice,  urged,  "  Take  every- 
thing else,  but  spare  me  this.  It  is  to  me  of  inestimable 
value,  —  greater  than  you  can  possibly  imagine." 

"  That's  the  very  reason  I  take  it,"  said  Blunt.  "  All 
the  rest  of  your  trumpery,"  glancing  contemptuously  at  the 
plain  furniture,  "  wouldn't  be  worth  carrying  away." 

"  At  least,"  implored  the  inventor,  "  wait  till  to-morrow, 
till  I  can  see  Mr.  Sharp." 

"And  where  would  you  be?"  sneered  Blunt.     "Don't 


154  HELEN   FOBD. 

think  to  catch  me  with  such  chaflf ;  Fm  too  old  a  bird,  I 
will  take  it  while  it  is  here." 

*'  But,"  urged  Mr.  Ford,  "  it  can  be  of  little  value  to  you. 
You  cannot  sell  it  for  one  quarter  of  the  debt." 

"  Perhaps  not.    But  that  isn't  what  I  take  it  for." 

"What  then?" 

"  As  a  pledge  for  its  final  payment.  I  care  nothing  for 
the  trumpery,  while  you,  I  know,  do.  When  you  come  for- 
ward and  pay  the  note,  you  shall  have  it  back  again." 

"  Do  you  promise  that?  "  asked  the  inventor,  more  cheer- 
folly. 

"  I  wiU  agree  to  wait  a  reasonable  time." 

Little  ceremony  was  used  in  the  removal  of  the  compli- 
cated machinery.  Within  ten  minutes,  all  that  had  so  fully 
occupied  the  thoughts  of  Mr.  Ford,  and  furnished  the  pleas- 
ure and  the  occupation  of  his  quiet  life,  was  swept  away, 
and  he  was  left  alone.  That  the  labor  was  to  no  purpose, 
and  the  hopes  which  he  cherished  vain,  imported  little.  To 
him,  at  least,  they  were  realities,  and  upon  them  he  had 
built  a  dazzling  superstructure,  which  now  suddenly  crum 
bled  into  pieces  at  his  feet. 

Lewis  Rand's  triumph  was  thus  far  complete* 


CHAPTER  XXIV. 

Helen's  good  poettjnb. 

Me.  Bowebs,  the  manager,  sat  at  his  desk  in  the  little 
office  adjoining  the  stage,  running  his  eye  over  a  manuscript 
play  presented  for  examination  by  an  ambitious  young  man 
in  spectacles. 

"  Bah !  "  said  the  manager,  tossing  aside  the  play  after  a 
very  brief  examination,  "what  can  the  man  be  thinking  of? 
Two  murders  in  the  first  act,  and  a  suicide  in  the  first  scene 
of  the  second  I  Such  an  accumulation  of  horrors  will  never 
do.    Here,  Jefiries." 

The  messenger  made  his  appearance,  and  stood  awaiting 
orders. 

"  Here,"  said  Mr.  Bowers,  tossing  the  play  towards  him, 
"just  do  this  thing  up,  and  when  the  author  calls  this  after- 
noon, tell  him  from  me  that  it  is  a  very  brilliant  production, 
and  so  on,  but,  like  Addison's  Cato,  for  example,  not  adapt- 
ed for  di'amatic  representation.     That  will  sugar  the  piU." 

"  Is  it  the  tall  young  man,  with  a  thin  face?  " 

"  Yes ;  his  name  is  Ichabod  Smith ;  but  he  writes  under 
the  nom  de  plume  of  Lionel  Percy." 

"  Yes,  sir ;  I  have  seen  his  name  in  the  story  papers.  He 
has  just  written  one  called  '  The  Goblin  Lover ;  or,  The 
Haunted  Tower.' " 

"  Any  further  orders,  sir  ?  "  inquired  Jeflries,  deferentially* 

"  Has  Miss  Ford  come  ?  " 

"  No,  sir ;  I  think  not," 


156  HELEN   FOBD. 

"  Notice  when  she  does,  and  request  her  to  call  at  the 
office  a  moment." 

"  Yes,  sir." 

"  It  is  no  more  than  fair  that  I  should  increase  her  sala- 
ry," soliloquized  Mr.  Bowers.  "  She  has  really  proved 
quite  a  card,  and  richly  deserves  double  what  I  have  hither- 
to paid.  Besides,"  he  mused,  for  the  manager  was  by  no 
means  neglectful  of  his  own  interests,  "  I  should  not  be  sur- 
prised if  another  establishment  should  try  to  entice  her 
away  by  a  larger  offer.  I  must  bind  her  till  the  end  of  the 
season." 

At  this  moment  Helen  was  announced  by  Jeffries. 

She  entered,  not  without  a  little  feeling  of  embarrassment. 
She  had  not  often  been  brought  into  communication  with 
Mr.  Bowers,  since  her  engagement,  and  now  the  only  reason 
that  occurred  to  her  to  account  for  this  unexpected  summons 
was,  that  she  might  in  some  way  have  given  dissatisfaction, 
although  the  applause  which  greeted  her  nightly  seemed 
hardly  consistent  with  this  idea. 

Her  apprehensions  were  at  once  dispelled  by  the  unusu- 
ally gracious  manner  in  which  she  was  received. 

"  I  am  glad  to  see  you.  Miss  Ford,"  said  Mr.  Bowers,  af- 
fably ;  motioning  her  to  a  seat.  "  I  have  sent  for  you  to 
say  that  your  services  are  in  the  highest  degree  acceptable 
to  me  and  to  the  public.  The  marks  of  approval  which  you 
receive  nightly  must  be  very  gratifying  to  you  as  they  are 
to  me." 

Quite  overpowered  by  this  extraordinary  condescension 
on  the  part  of  the  manager,  whom  she  had  been  accustomed 
to  regard  with  a  feeling  of  distant  awe  and  respect,  Helen 
answered  that  she  was  very  glad  that  he  was  satisfied  with 
her. 

"  To  prove  how  highly  I  value  your  services,"  continued 
Mr.  Bowers,  "  I  have  decided  to  double  your  weekly  salary, 


Helen's  good  fortune.  157 

provided  you  will  sign  an  engagement  to  remain  with  us  till 
the  end  of  the  season." 

Helen,  who  had  feared  on  being  summoned  to  the  manag- 
er's presence,  that  it  was  to  be  told  that  her  services  were 
dispensed  with,  hardly  knew  how  to  express  her  gratitude 
for  what  was  so  far  beyond  her  expectations. 

"  It  is  very  generous  in  you,  sir,"  she  said,  "  to  increase 
my  salary  without  my  asking  for  it." 

"  I  always  make  it  a  point,"  was  the  reply,  "  to  recom- 
pense merit  to  the  extent  of  my  means." 

"And  now,"  he  added,  pushing  towards  her  a  contract 
already  drawn  up,  "  if  you  will  sign  this  obligation  to  sing 
for  me  the  remainder  of  the  season  on  these  terms,  I  shall 
have  no  further  cause  to  trespass  on  your  time." 

Helen  wrote  her  name  hastily,  and  withdrew  from  the 
manager's  presence,  it  being  already  time  for  rehearsal. 

"  A  very  pretty  little  girl,  and  not  at  all  aware  of  her  own 
value,"  mused  Mr.  Bowers.  "  I  am  lucky  to  have  secured 
her." 

Eager  to  communicate  her  increase  of  salary  to  her  father 
and  good  Martha  Grey,  who  had  always  shown  so  warm  an 
interest  in  her  welfare,  Helen  hastened  home  immediately 
after  rehearsal. 

Flushed  with  exercise,  and  with  a  bright  smile  playing 
over  her  face,  she  danced  into  Martha  Grey's  little  room. 

"  O  Martha !  "  she  ejaculated,  sinking  into  a  chair,  "  I  am 
all  out  of  breath  running,  I  was  so  anxious  to  tell  you  of  my 
good  fortune.  You  are  the  very  first  that  I  wanted  to  tell 
it  to." 

"What  is  it,  Helen?"  inquired  Martha,  looking  up  from 
her  never-ceasing  work  with  an  expression  of  interest. 

"  What  do  you  think  it  is  ?  Guess  now,"  said  Helen, 
finuling. 


158  HELEN    FORD. 

"I  never  was  good  at  guessing,  Helen.  I  tMnk  the 
fihortest  way  will  be  to  tell  me  at  once." 

^'  I  have  had  my  salary  raised  to  twelve  dollars  a  week ; 
just  think  of  that,  Martha :  and  all  without  my  asking.  I 
shall  be  able  to  buy  ever  so  many  nice  things  for  papa,  now, 
that  I  couldn't  afford  before ;  and  I  mean  to  make  you  a 
present,  besides,  Martha ;  you've  been  so  very  kind  to  me." 

"  Thank  you  for  the  kind  thought,  my  dear  child.  I  will 
take  the  will  for  the  deed.  But  you  mustn't  think  yourself 
too  rich.  K  you  have  any  money  to  spare  you  had  better 
be  lajing  it  up  against  a  time  of  need.  Remember  the  the- 
atre will  be  closed  for  a  time  in  the  summer,  and  your  sala- 
ry will  stop.  You  will  want  to  lay  up  money  to  carry  you 
through  that  time." 

"  At  any  rate,  Martha,  if  you  won't  let  me  spend  any 
money  for  you,  I  shall  insist  on  coming  in  now  and  then  and 
helping  you  with  your  work,  so  that  you  can  gain  time  to 
walk  out  with  me.  I  am  afraid  you  work  too  hard.  You 
are  looking  pale." 

"It  is  long  since  I  had  much  color,"  said  Martha. 
"  You  have  enough  for  us  both." 

"  Then  you  must  go  out  and  get  some.  But  I  mustn't 
Btop  a  minute  longer ;  I  must  go  up  and  tell  papa ; "  and 
she  bounded  up  stairs  with  a  light  heart,  little  suspecting 
what  had  taken  place  during  her  absence. 

What  was  her  surprise  to  find  her  father  listlessly  looking 
out  of  the  window  into  the  little  court  below,  and  otherwise 
quite  unoccupied. 

"What  is  the  matter,  papa?"  inquired  Helen,  in  appre- 
hension ;  "  and  where,"  for  the  first  time  noticing  the 
absence  of  the  work  which  usually  engaged  her  father, 
— -  "  where  is  your  machine  ?  " 

"  It  is  gone,  my  child,"  said  Mr.  Ford,  despondently. 


Helen's  good  fortune.  159 

"Gone!  what  do  you  mean,  papa?  You  haye  not  got 
discouraged,  and  sent  it  away  ?  " 

"  Discouraged !  No,  Helen ;  on  the  contrary,  I  never  felt 
nearer  success  than  I  did  a  few  hours  since.  But  all  is 
changed  now." 

"What  has  become  of  it,  papa?"  questioned  Helen,  in 
increasing  alarm. 

"  It  has  been  seized  for  debt,  Helen." 

"For  debt?" 

"  Yes  ;  for  the  note  which  I  gave  Mr.  Sharp.  I  had  not 
the  money  to  pay  it,  so  they  carried  off  my  machine  for 
security." 

"Is  it  possible  he  has  been  so  cruel  and  unfeeling?" 
exclaimed  Helen,  indignantly. 

"  Do  not  blame  him,  my  child.  I  am  convinced  that  it  is 
far  fix)m  his  intention  to  trouble  or  distress  us.  But  he 
parted  with  the  note  a  day  or  two  since,  as  he  himself  told 
me,  on  the  express  condition  that  it  should  not  be  presented 
for  payment,  and  this  stipulation  has  been  disregarded." 

"And  how  large  was  this  note,  papa?" 

"  For  three  hundred  dollars." 

"  TJiree  hundred  I  I  thought  it  was  only  two  hundred 
that  were  lent  you." 

"  That  was  my  own  impression,"  said  Mr.  Ford,  with  an 
air  of  perplexity.  "  But  you  know,"  he  continued,  with  a 
melancholy  smile,  "that  I  have  no  head  for  business.  I 
have  been  so  occupied  in  other  ways.  It  is  quite  possible 
that  I  have  made  a  mistake." 

"  I  am  afraid,"  said  Helen,  gravely,  "  that  Mr.  Sharp  is 
not  so  much  your  friend  as  you  imagine." 

"Not  my  friend,  Helen?  He  offered  to  lend  me  this 
money  voluntarily,  without  any  expectation  of  immediate 
return.  I  am  certain  that  when  he  hears  of  this  affair,  he 
will  hasten  to  make  it  right." 


160  HELEN   FOED. 

"  Perhaps  I  do  him  wrong,"  said  Helen,  thoughtfully, 
"  and  indeed  I  do  not  know  what  good  it  would  do  him  to 
annoy  us.  But,  papa,  there  is  one  thing  I  haven't  told  you, 
—  a  piece  of  great  good  news.  I  have  had  my  salar}^ 
doubled  at  the  theatre.  I  shall  earn  twelve  doUars  a  week. 
Think  of  that,  papa." 

"  But  are  you  not  working  too  hard,  Helen?  " 

"I,  working  hard  I  It  is  only  a  pleasure  for  me  to  slug. 
I  am  very  lucky  in  being  paid  for  what  I  would  rather  do 
than  not.  It  is  different  with  poor  Martha.  She  doesn't 
earn  more  than  four  dollars  a  week,  and  has  to  sit  at  her 
sewing  from  morning  till  night.  I  wish  I  could  do  some- 
thing to  help  her.     She  looks  so  tired  and  pale  all  the  time." 

''  God  has  favored  you,  my  chUd,  in  bestowing  upon  you 
so  choice  a  gift.  I  hope  you  do  not  faU  to  thank  him  for 
this  goodness." 

"  Never,  papa.    I  thank  him  every  night." 

"How  much  money  have  you  left,  papa?"  she  inquired, 
after  a  pause. 

"  I  don't  know  exactly  how  much.  I  had  better  give  it  to 
you  to  help  pay  our  daily  expenses." 

"  There  are  one  hundred  and  twenty  dollars,"  said  Helen, 
counting  it.  "  Then  we  shall  need  one  hundred  and  eighty 
to  make  up  the  balance  of  the  sum  mentioned  in  the  note." 

"  Surely,  I  cannot  have  expended  that  sum,"  said  Mr. 
Ford,  with  a  perplexed  look.     "  K  I  could  see  LIr.  Sharp ! " 

"  I  will  go  and  see  him,  papa." 

"  Perhaps  it  wiU  be  best." 

In  five  minutes  Helen  was  on  her  way  to  the  lawyerV 
office* 


CHAPTER  XXV. 

MB.    SHABP  CHANGES   HIS  BASE. 

When  Lewis  Rand  made  choice  of  Richard  Sharp,  a  brief- 
less barrister,  as  his  agent,  in  preference  to  a  lawyer  of 
greater  reputation,  he  was  influenced  by  what  he  considered 
satisfactory  reasons.  In  the  fiist  place,  Mr.  Sharp's  easy 
morality  and  lack  of  principle  were  no  unimportant  qualifi- 
cations for  the  business  in  which  he  was  to  be  employed ; 
that  he  had  good  qualities  of  a  particular  kind  Lewis  knew ; 
and  he  judged  that  Ms  lack  of  other  clients  would  insure 
his  devotion  to  his  interests. 

Thus  far,  Mr.  Sharp's  management  of  the  business  in- 
trusted to  him  had  quite  equalled  Lewis  Rand's  expecta- 
tions. He  acknowledged  that  it  could  not  have  been  better 
done.  Feeling  that  the  lawyer's  fidelity  was  insured  by  his 
own  interest,  he  was  far  from  anticipating  any  risk  to  his 
plans  from  this  quarter. 

Lewis  Rand  reasoned  as  a  man  of  the  world,  showing,  it 
must  be  admitted,  no  inconsiderable  insight  into  human 
character  and  motives.  But  there  was  one  thing  which  he 
neglected  to  take  into  the  account.  The  lawyer  might,  in 
the  course  of  his  investigations,  discover  counter  interests, 
which  he  might  think  it  better  worth  his  while  to  farther 
than  his  client's. 

This  was  actually  the  case. 

Lewis  Rand  had  so  far  taken  Mr.  Sharp  into  his  confi- 
dence, that  the  lawyer  found  little  difficulty  in  surmising 
how  aflairs  stood.     Of  the  forged  will  he  was  ignorant.     It 

14  161 


162  HELEN    FORD. 

appeared  that  the  only  thing  which  stood  in  the  way  cf  a 
reconciliation  between  Robert  Ford  and  his  father,  was  the 
careful  manner  in  which  they  had  hitherto  been  kept  apart 
by  Lewis.  As  the  latter  had  confessed,  his  uncle  had  been 
so  far  desirous  of  a  meeting  and  reconciliation,  that  he  had 
ordered  an  advertisement  to  be  inserted  in  the  leading 
papers,  notwithstanding  the  probability  that  his  son  was  no 
longer  living. 

"  Now,"  thought  Mr.  Sharp,  "  what  would  be  the  prob- 
able consequence,  if  some  person  —  I,  myself,  for  example 

—  should  bring  together  the  long-separated  father  and  son. 
Naturally  that  person  would  have  the  satisfaction  of  know- 
ing that  he  had  made  two  fellow-beings  happy,"  — here  Mr. 
Sharp  looked  fairly  radiant  with  benevolence,  —  "  and  also," 

—  here  came  in  a  consideration,  —  "and  a^so  he  would 
stand  a  chance  of  being  very  handsomely  rewarded." 

Mr.  Sharp  lit  a  fresh  cigar,  after  which  he  resumed  the 
current  of  his  reflections. 

"  Suppose  I  should  be  that  person.  I  should,  of  course, 
lose  my  present  client ;  but,  on  the  other  hand,  I  might  get 
another,  who  would  prove  ten  times  as  profitable  to  me.  In 
fact,  he  could  not  very  well  help  rewarding  me  handsomely, 
knowing  that  I  had  been  the  means  of  gaining  him  a  for- 
tune. Besides,  this  Ford  is  a  mere  infant  in  matters  of 
business.  Of  course  he  would  need  somebody  to  manage 
his  money  concerns  for  him,  or  he  would  be  fleeced  on  every 
hand.  It  would  only  be  an  act  of  common  humanity  to 
come  to  his  assistance.  Egad ! "  exclaimed  the  lawyer, 
warming  with  the  thoughts  of  what  might  be  done  should 
the  scheme  succeed ;  "  the  thing's  worth  trying,  and  Fll  be 
,  I  mean  I'll  try  it." 

Having  arrived  at  this  praiseworthy  decision,  Mr.  Sharp 
iossed  the  remains  of  his  cigar  into  the  grate,  and  carefully 


MB.   SHARP   CHANGES   HIS   BASE.  163 

adjusting  his  invariable  white  hat,  sallied  into  the  sixeet  on 
a  tour  of  observation. 

The  object  of  his  quest  was  the  residence  of  his  client, 
A  look  into  the  directory  guided  him  to  the  residence  on  Fifth 
Avenue,  which  has  been  already  described.  He  observed 
that  the  shutters  were  closed,  as  befitted  a  dwelling  in  which 
there  was  sickness.  From  the  sidewalk  he  could  read  the 
name  upon  the  door-plate.  There  could  be  no  mistake,  for 
this  name  was  Rand. 

"So  far  so  good,"  he  thought,  and  having  now  obtained 
all  the  information  he  at  present  needed,  he  wended  his  way 
back  to  the  oflSce,  and  began  to  meditate  what  step  next  to 
take,  when  he  caught  the  sound  of  a  timid  knock  at  his  office 
door. 

"  Come  in ! "  said  Mr.  Sharp,  wondering  if  by  some  very 
extraordinary  freak  of  fortune  it  might  be  a  second  client. 

The  door  was  opened,  and  Helen  stole  timidly  in. 

She  looked  very  sad  and  despondent.  The  length  of 
time  which  must  elapse  before  she  could  at  best  release  her 
father's  treasured  machine,  and  furnish  him  the  wonted  oc- 
cupation which  had  so  long  engrossed  his  time  and  thoughts, 
and  upon  which  he  founded  such  high  hopes  of  fame  and 
fortune,  naturally  weighed  upon  her  mind.  She  had  come  to 
acquaint  Mr.  Sharp  with  what  had  happened,  rather  because 
such  was  her  father's  desire  than  because  she  entertained  any 
great  hopes  of  his  assistance. 

"  Miss  Ford,"  exclaimed  Mr.  Sharp,  jumping  from  his  seat 
and,  with  a  wave  of  the  hand,  politely  tendering  it  to  Helen, 
'*  This  is  a  most  unexpected  pleasure.  I  am  delighted  to  see 
you,  my  dear  young  lady ;  pray,  sit  down,  if  you  will  do 
Buch  an  honor  to  my  humble  apartment." 

"  I  couldn't  stop,  sir,  thank  you,"  said  Helen.  "  I  came  to 
let  you  know,  sir,  at  my  father's  desire,  that  his, — I  mean  the 
work  he  was  engaged  upon,  —  has  been  seized Yor  debt." 


164  HELEN    FORD. 

"  Bless  my  soul !  "  ejaculated  Mr.  Sharp,  in  the  greatest 
apparent  amazement ;  "  how  did  it  happen? 

"  What ! "  exclaimed  the  lawyer  in  a  tone  of  virtuous  iu- 
dignation,  "  is  it  possible  that  Blunt  has  had  the  unparalleled 
eflErontery  to  disturb  my  esteemed  friend,  your  father,  against 
my  express  stipulation?  That  man  little  knows  that  he 
has  aimed  a  blow  at  science  and  the  world's  progress,  and 
endangered  the  successful  prosecution  of  the  greatest  dis- 
covery of  modem  times.  And  all  for  the  sake  of  a  little 
paltry  money  I "  ejaculated  Mr.  Sharp,  with  disdain.  "  And 
shall  this  be  permitted?  No,  it  shall  not  be!  It  must 
not  be ! " 

Here  Mr.  Sharp  brought  down  his  fist  energetically  upon 
the  table. 

"  My  dear  young  lady,  rest  assured  that  your  father  shall 
be  righted,  even  though  —  yes,  even  though  it  strip  me  of  my 
entire  property." 

It  may  be  remarked  that  the  lawyer's  entire  property, 
which  he  was  ready  to  sacrifice  so  heroically  in  the  service 
of  his  friend,  made  but  a  small  show  on  the  tax-gatherer's 
book. 

Nevertheless  Helen,  who  gave  him  credit  for  perfect  sin- 
cerity, began  to  think  she  had  judged  very  harshly  of  Mr. 
Sharp,  and  the  delightful  hope  that  through  his  means  would 
once  more  be  restored  to  her  father  the  employment  so 
necessary  to  his  happiness,  filled  her  with  the  liveliest  emo- 
tions of  gratitude. 

"  O  sir,"  said  she,  earnestly,  "  we  will  both  pray  for  and 
bless  you." 

"My  dear  Miss  Ford,"  said  the  lawyer,  in  his  emotion 
brushing  away  an  imaginary  tear,  "  say  no  more.  Although 
you  will,  I  know,  acquit  me  of  having  had  anything  to  do 
directly  in  bringing  about  your  father's  misfortune,  it  was,  1 
am  painfully  conscious,  the  result  of  my  entrusting  the  note 


MR.   SHARP   CHANGES   HIS   BASE.  165 

to  that  villain  Blunt,  who  has  acted  in  a  manner  unworthy  of 
a  gentleman,  —  in  a  manner  which  will  compel  me  to  break  off 
all  business  relations  with  him  in  future ;  I  feel  that  it  is  my 
duty  to  do  what  I  can  to  repair  the  results  of  my  indiscre- 
tion." 

Mr.  Sharp  rose  rapidly  in  Helen's  estimation.  The  re- 
spect with  which  he  spoke  of  her  father,  and  the  warmth 
with  which  he  espoused  his  interests,  impressed  the  unsus- 
pecting child  most  favorably.  She  began  to  wonder  how  she 
could  ever  have  thought  of  him  otherwise  than  as  a  friend. 
She  even  felt  a  degree  of  compunction  and  self-reproach 
for  having  harbored  suspicions  of  so  excellent  a  man. 

"  You  can  return  home  quite  at  ease,  my  dear  Miss  Ford," 
resumed  Mr.  Sharp.  "  Within  two  hom-s  at  most  I  will  take 
care  that  your  father's  property  shall  be  restored  to  him." 

"  Will  you,  sir?"  said  Helen,  her  eyes  lighting  up  with 
gratitude.  "  Oh,  I  shall  feel  so  relieved.  We  shall  be  very 
much  indebted  to  you." 

"  Do  not  thank  me,  my  dear  Miss  Ford.  I  feel  that  I  am, 
in  some  respects,  unsuited  to  my  profession.  A  lawyer  should 
be  made  of  sterner  stuflf.  I  rejoice  that  your  father  should 
have  sent  to  me  immediately.  It  is  a  proof  of  his  coni&dence, 
which  I  value-  He  will  always  find  in  me  a  true  friend,  and 
I  trust  he  will  not  fail  to  call  upon  me  for  assistance  when- 
ever any  trouble  shall  befall  him.  Your  father,  my  dear 
Miss  Ford,  is  a  man  of  genius ;  but,  as  you  perhaps  have 
observed,  is  not  so  well  versed  in  the  ways  of  the  world  as 
those  who  possess  not  a  tithe  of  his  inventive  talent  and 
intellectual  ability." 

Helen  was  quite  ready  to  acknowledge  a  deficiency  ^hich 
no  one  knew  better  than  herself. 

"  Mind,  my  dear  young  lady,"  continued  Lir.  Sharp,  "  I 
do  not  speak  of  this  as  in  any  way  derogatory  to  your  father 
or  at  all  detracting  from  his  scientific  eminence.    I  would 


166  HELEN    FORD. 

not  have  him  other  than  he  is.  No  one  can  be  great  in  all 
things,  as  Cicero  so  eloquently  observes.  What  if  your 
father  is  a  little  deficient  in  worldly  sagacity?  Was  not 
this  the  case  with  all  who  have  distinguished  themselves  in 
the  higher  departments  of  science  and  literature  ?  Why,  the 
great  Sir  Isaac  Newton  himself  was  noted  for  his  absence  of 
mind,  and  some  very  curious  stories  are  told  of  this  trait. 
Milton,  too,  knew  so  little  how  to  drive  a  bargain,  that  he 
actually  sold  his  great  poem  for  five  pounds.  So  I  consider 
your  father's  want  of  practical  talent  one  of  the  most  con- 
vincing proofs  of  his  superior  mental  endowments." 

Whatever  may  be  thought  of  Mr.  Sharp's  reasoning,  it  was 
enough  for  Helen  that  he  spoke  in  praise  of  her  father,  whom 
she  revered.  No  praise  of  herself  could  so  effectually  have 
won  her  entire  confidence.  With  light  heart  she  left  the 
lawyer's  office,  and  hastened  home  to  impart  to  her  father 
the  glad  tidings. 

"  I  have  crossed  the  Rubicon,"  said  Mr.  Sharp,  thoughtful- 
ly.   "  I  must  now  arrange  the  details  of  my  coup  d'etat." 


CHAPTER    XXVI. 

A  SHORT  CHAPTEE. 

Mr.  Sharp  had  now  taken  the  first  step  towards  betraying 
his  client,  and  was  determined  not  to  turn  back.  Having  so 
far  committed  himself,  he  felt  that  policy  dictated  expedi- 
tion. Should  Mr.  Rand  suddenly  die  before  he  could  bring 
about  an  interview  between  him  and  Mr.  Ford,  all  would  be 
lost.  That  interview  must  take  place  with  the  least  possible 
delay. 

Mr.  Sharp,  accordingly,  set  out  at  once  for  Mr.  Ford's 
dwelling. 

A  moderate  walk  brought  him  to  the  modest  lodging  of 
the  inventor. 

He  paused  a  moment  to  compose  his  face  to  the  proper 
expression  of  sympathetic  regret,  and  then  entering,  grasped 
the  hand  of  Mr.  Ford. 

"  I  sympathize  with  you  sincerely  in  your  misfortune,"  he 
remarked,  in  a  feeling  tone,  "  and  it  is  to  me  a  poignant 
reflection  that  it  has  occurred  partly  through  my  means; 
but  I  trust  your  kindness  will  absolve  me  from  any  sus- 
picion of  complicity." 

"  I  do,  and  have,"  said  Mr.  Ford,  frankly,  extending  his 
hand.  "From  the  first,  I  could  not  even  imagine,  Mj. 
Sharp,  that  you  had  anything  to  do  with  it." 

"  You  only  do  me  justice,"  said  Mr.  Sharp,  wringing  the 
offered  hand  with  affectionate  energy;  "you  only  do  me 
justice,  sir,  and  yet  I  have  been  culpable ;  I  have  been 
guilty  of  an  indiscretion ;  I  should  not  have  intrusted  a  note 

167 


168  HELEN   FORD. 

^hich  affected  your  interests,  to  so  unscrupulous  a  man  aa 
Blunt.  Mild  as  is  my  temperament,"  he  continued,  with  a 
sudden  burst  of  ferocity,  "  I  do  not  hesitate  to  pronounce 
that  man  an  unmitigated  villain." 

He  paused  a  moment  to  recover  himself,  and  resumed  in 
a  different  tone,  with  a  look  of  respectful  admiration 
directed  towards  Helen. 

"As  soon  as  I  heard  the  details  of  this  affair  from  the 
lips  of  your  charming  daughter,  whose  filial  devotion  is,  I 
may  observe,  the  most  beautiful  trait  of  her  character,  I 
hastened  here  to  assure  you  of  my  sympathy  and  assistance. 
I  think  I  may  promise,  that  your  invaluable  machinery  will 
be  restored  to  you  before  night.  I  can  only  express  my 
extreme  regret  that  you  have  been  compelled  to  suspend 
your  labors,  even  for  the  space  of  a  few  hours." 

"Thank  you  for  your  kindness,"  said  Mr.  Ford,  grate- 
ftilly.  "  I  shall  always  feel  that  I  am  deeply  indebted  to 
you  for  your  disinterested  friendship." 

"  Sir,"  said  Mr.  Sharp,  visibly  affected,  "  I  would,  if  it 
were  possible,  express  how  much  I  am  gratified  by  your 
words ;  but  there  are  feelings  which  must  be  hidden  in  the 
heart,  and  to  which  no  language  can  do  justice.  Let  me 
say,  briefly,  that  such  are  my  feelings  on  the  present  occa- 
sion. You  have  been  pleased  to  refer  to  the  little  service 
which  it  has  been  in  my  power  to  render  you.  But,  sir,  you 
have  no  cause  for  gratitude.  It  is  the  interest  I  feel  in  the 
advancement  of  science,  to  which  you  have  consecrated  your 
life  energies.  It  is  my  earnest  desire  to  help  forward,  in  my 
way,  the  important  discovery  which  is  to  hand  down  your 
name  to  future  generations." 

"K  you  will  excuse  me,"  said  Helen,  putting  on  her 
bonnet,  "  I  am  going  out  to  get  sometMng  for  dinner ;  and 
if,"  she  added,  hesitatingly,  "Mr.  Sharp  would  do  us  the 


A   SHORT    CHAPTER.  169 

fiivor  to  sit  down  with  us,  papa,  I  am  sure  we  should  be  very 
glad  to  have  him." 

"That  is  well  thought  of,  Helen,"  said  her  father,  approv- 
ingly. "  I  shall  be  very  glad  to  have  Mr.  Sharp  do  so,  if  he 
can  find  suflScient  inducement." 

"  SufQcient  inducement ! "  echoed  the  lawyer,  with  the  air 
of  a  man  who  had  received  an  invitation  to  a  royal  banquet ; 
"  I  shall  be  most  proud,  most  happy,  to  accept  your  invita- 
tion, and  that  of  your  charming  daughter.  Unworthy  as  I 
feel  myself  of  this  distinction,  I  will  yet  accept  it." 

"  Unworthy  I  you,  who  have  to-day  shown  yourself  so 
truly  my  Mend?  It  is  but  a  faint  expression  of  our  grati- 
tude." 

"  You  are  very  kind  to  say  so,"  said  Mr.  Sharp,  with  an 
effusion  of  feeling.  "Yet  I  cannot  help  feeling  that  you 
judge  me  too  favorably.  Indeed,  were  it  not  that  I  have  a 
revelation  of  some  importance  to  make  to  you,  I  should 
scarcely  venture  to  accept  your  invitation." 

"  Be  seated.  Mi*.  Sharp,"  said  Mr.  Ford,  somewhat  sur- 
prised at  the  lawyer's  words  ;  "  I  shall,  of  course,  feel  inter- 
ested in  anything  you  may  have  to  impart.  Helen,  my  dear, 
you  will  not  be  gone  long? " 

"  No,  papa." 

She  closed  the  door,  and  descended  the  stairs,  with  her 

market-basket  on  her  arm. 
li 


CHAPTER  XXVU. 

Helen's  banquet. 

When  Helen  had  departed  on  her  errand,  Mr.  Sharp  com- 
menced, — 

"  You  will  pardon  me,"  he  said,  "if,  in  the  preliminary 
inquiries  I  may  have  to  make,  there  may  be  anything  of  a 
nature  to  barrow  up  your  feelings,  or  recall  painful  scenes." 

Mr.  Ford  looked  surprised. 

"  May  I  inquire  if  you  have  a  father  living  ?  " 

A  painful  shadow  flitted  over  the  face  of  'Mr,  Ford.  He 
answered,  presently,  — 

"  You  may  be  surprised  when  I  answer,  that  I  do  not 
know." 

"  I  am  not  surprised,"  said  Mr.  Sharp,  inclining  his  head 
gently.     "  This  was  the  answer  I  anticipated." 

Once  more  Mr.  Ford  regarded  his  visitor  with  a  look  of 
surprise. 

"  Is  it  possible,"  he  said,  not  without  hesitation,  "  thai 
you  should  know  anything  of  my  unhappy  history?" 

"  Of  that  you  shall  judge.  "What  if  I  should  say,  for 
example,  that  the  name  by  which  you  are  known  is  not  your 
real  one  ?  " 

"  I  cannot  conjecture  where  you  obtained  your  informa- 
tion, but  it  is  correct.     My  real  name  is  not  Ford." 

"And  is  — Rand." 

"  You  are  right ;  but  how " 

"A  moment,  if  you  please.    I  have  more  to  tell  yoo. 

170 


HELEN'S  BANQUET.  171 

Ton  were  bom  to  wealth,  and  being  an  only  son,  were  sole 
heir  to  your  father's  possessions.  You  were  not,  however, 
without  a  companion,  —  a  cousin,  whom  your  father  gener- 
ously took  under  his  charge." 

"Lewis?" 

"  Yes,  Lewis  Rand ;  he  shared  your  studies  and  your 
sports,  and  was,  in  all  respects,  treated  like  yourself.  The 
only  difference  was  in  your  prospects.  You  were  to  inherit 
a  large  fortune,  while  he " 

"  My  father  would  have  provided  for  him." 

"  No  doubt,  but  not  equally.  That  would  not  have  been 
expected,  of  course.  When  Lewis  grew  old  enough  to 
understand  this,  it  filled  him  with  envy  and  jealousy." 

"  Can  this  be  true?  "  asked  Robert  Ford,  —  to  call  him  by 
the  name  to  which  we  are  accustomed,  —  "  can  this  be  true? 
yet  he  was  alwaj^s  cordial  and  friendly.  His  manner  never 
afforded  any  ground  for  suspecting  that  he  cherished  such 
feelings." 

"  He  knew  his  own  interests  too  well  for  that.  Inferior 
as  his  prospects  were,  they  all  depended  upon  your  father's 
good-will.  It  would,  therefore,  have  been  in  the  highest 
degree  unwise,  to  disclose  a  feeling  sure  to  alienate  it." 

"Perhaps  you  are  right,"  said  Mr.  Ford,  thoughtfully. 

"  Therefore,  he  only  nursed  this  feeling  in  secret.  Yet  he 
none  the  less  watched  for  an  opportnnity  to  injure  you.  His 
patience  was  at  length  rewarded.     That  time  arrived." 

Robert  Ford,  as  if  half  surmising  what  was  to  follow, 
rose  in  some  agitation,  and  began  to  pace  the  room. 

"  I  trust,"  said  Mr.  Sharp,  "  you  will  excuse  me  for  intro- 
ducing a  delicate  subject.  There  is  a  time  when  the  sus- 
ceptible heart  of  a  young  man  first  yields  to  the  tender 
passion." 

"  I  understand  you,"  said  Mr.  Ford,  in  a  low  voice. 

"  Am  I  right  in  saying,  that  however  nobly  adorned  in 


172  HELEN   FORD. 

Other  respects,  the    object  of    your  attachment  was  not 
wealthy?" 

Mr.  Ford  bowed  his  head. 

"Unfortunately  for  your  happiness,  your  father  wished 
you  to  wed  a  wealthy  wife,  and  withheld  his  approbation 
firom  your  choice.  You,  my  dear  sir,  with  a  magnanimity, 
which,  I  am  sure,  does  you  infinite  credit,  clung  to  your 
dhosen  bride,  portionless  though  she  was,  and,  in  spite  of 
your  father's  disapprobation,  married  her." 

"  I  did,"  said  Eobert  Ford,  with  emotion ;  "  and  however 
grieved  I  may  have  been,  and  still  am,  at  my  father's  con- 
tinued resentment,  that  step  I  never  regretted.  You  have 
seen  Helen.  It  may  have  been  a  parent's  partiality,  but  I 
have  always  regarded  her  as  uncommonly  sweet  and  attrac- 
tive." 

Mr.  Sharp,  in  a  very  high-flown  eulogium,  intimated  that 
such  was  his  own  estimate. 

*'  When  I  tell  you,"  pursued  Mr.  Ford,  "  that  Helen  bears 
a  very  striking  resemblance  to  her  mother,  not  in  person 
only,  but  in  sweetness  and  amiability,  your  heart  will  sug- 
gest an  excuse  for  my  perhaps  unfilial  conduct." 

"  Sir,"  said  ]\Ir.  Sharp,  warmly,  "  had  you  done  otherwise 
than  you  did,  had  you  abandoned,  at  the  bidding  of  a  paltry 
self-interest,  the  heart  that  had  learned  to  love  and  trust 
jou,  I  should  not  have  felt  one  half  the  respect  for  you 
which  I  now  entertain.  But,  to  resume  my  story.  The  first 
difliculty  between  your  father  and  yourself  was  hailed  with 
delight  by  your  cousin.  It  was  an  occasion  for  which  he 
had  long  been  watching.  It  is  needless  to  say,  that  he  used 
every  means  to  widen  the  breach,  so  artfully,  however,  as 
not  to  allow  either  your  father  or  yourself  to  suspect  his  pur- 
pose. Possibly  you  can  recall  some  circumstances  which 
will  confirm  what  I  have  said." 

"I  remember,"  said  Robert,  thoughtfiilly,  "  that  my  cousin 


HELEN'S  BANQUET.  178 

professed  to  sympathize  with  me  most  warmly,  and  coun- 
selled me,  by  all  means,  to  carry  out  my  purpose,  in  opposi- 
tion to  my  father's  will.  He  assured  me  that  my  father 
would  finally  yield,  when  he  learned  that  my  heart  was 
unalterably  fixed,  and  that  opposition  would  prove  unavail- 
ing." 

"  At  the  same  time,"  said  the  lawyer,  "  he  was  giving 
similar  assurances  to  your  father.  He  told  him,  that  when 
you  were  satisfied  that  his  consent  could  not  be  obtained, 
you  would  yield  the  point,  and  conform  to  his  wishes." 

"  Was  my  cousin  indeed  so  wicked?"  asked  Robert,  with 
more  pain  than  anger  in  his  tone. 

"  That  was  not  aU.  In  order  to  add  to  your  father*s 
Indignation,  he  took  care  to  describe  your  betrothed  in  the 
most  odious  colors.  He  not  only  charged  her  with  poverty, 
but  represented  her  as  an  artful  and  designing  country  girl, 
uneducated  and  unrefined,  whose  only  object  in  marrying 
you  was  to  gratify  a  vulgar  taste  for  finery  and  ostentation. 
In  fact,  he  taxed  his  imagination  to  the  utmost,  in  the 
endeavor  to  portray  her  in  a  manner  which  he  knew  would 
render  her  most  unacceptable  to  the  family  pride  of  your 
father.  I  should  add  that  he  even  denied  her  the  charm  of 
personal  beauty,  and  pictured  her  to  your  father  as  equally 
unattractive  in  mind  and  person." 

A  red  spot  glowed  in  the  pale  cheek  of  Robert  Ford,  who, 
mild  as  he  was,  could  not  hear  unmoved  this  vile  slander 
upon  one  he  loved.  To  do  Mr.  Sharp  justice,  what  he  said 
was  not  exaggerated,  but  strictly  in  accordance  with  truth. 

"  Are  you  sure  of  this  ?  "  he  asked,  pacing  the  room  in  a 
perturbed  manner. 

"I  am.  You  shall  know  my  authority  soon,  but  not 
now." 

"  Now,  I  am  not  surprised  at  my  father's  continued  resent* 
ment.    To  traduce  my  Helen  so  cruelly  I " 

15* 


174  HELEN   POBD. 

"  You  will  not  wonder  that  all  this  should  have  had  the 
effect  intended,  —  that  of  confirming  your  father  in  his  oppo* 
idtion.     You  married,  and  left  this  part  of  the  country/' 

"  Yes  ;  I  went  to  the  West." 

"And  did  you  hear  nothing    from  your  father  after 
wards  ?  " 

"  Never,  directly." 

"Yet  you  had  not  been  married  six  months  before  hi 
began  to  relent,  and  feel  that  he  might  have  exercised  undue 
severity." 

"Is  it,  indeed,  so?"  asked  Robert,  his  face  lighting  up. 

"  It  is.  I  need  scarcely  say  that  your  cousin  observed, 
with  apprehension,  your  father's  returning  mildness.  Lest  it 
might  lead  to  a  complete  reconciliation,  he  resolved  to  get 
your  father  out  of  the  country.  He  accordingly  proposed  a 
European  tour,  to  which  he  procured  your  father's  assent. 
Preparations  were  hurriedly  made.  They  sailed  for  Liver- 
pool, and  several  years  were  spent  in  visiting  the  principal 
cities  of  Europe." 

Robert  Ford,  to  whom  this  was  new,  listened  intently. 

"  At  length  they  returned.  Then,  in  order  that  you  might 
more  effectually  lose  all  trace  of  your  father,  he  persuaded 
him  to  sell  the  estate  upon  which  he  had  hitherto  resided, 
and  remove " 

"  Whither?  "  demanded  Mr.  Ford,  eagerly. 

"I  will  tell  you  presently." 

"  I  had  written  to  my  father.  Were  none  of  my  letters 
received  ?  " 

"They  were,  —  by  Lewis.  Of  course,  he  took  care  to 
suppress  them.  Nevertheless,  your  father  still  felt  a  strong 
desire  to  see  you  once  more,  and  tell  you  that  he  had  for- 
given you.  Lewis  again  became  alarmed,  and,  as  a  last 
resort,  caused  your  death  to  be  inserted  in  a  western  paper, 
and  shown  to  your  father.    This  was  sufficient  for  that  time. 


HELEN'S  BANQUET.  175 

Within  a  brief  period,  however,  his  appiehensions  and  your 
fathei*'s  desire  to  see  you  have  again  become  excited.  Your 
father  one  day  caught  a  glimpse  of  you  in  the  street." 

"  What  do  you  say  ? "  exclaimed  Robert  Ford,  in  agita^ 
tion.     "  My  father  saw  me?    Where  does  he  live?  " 

"  In  this  city,  —  in  New  York.  He  recognized  you  in 
spite  of  the  long  separation,  and  so  did  Lewis ;  but  the 
latter  took  the  greatest  care  to  assure  your  father  that  he 
was  mistaken ;  that  you  had  long  been  dead.  Nevertheless, 
he  was  not  wholly  convinced.  Though  not  in  the  least 
doubting  your  cousin's  good  faith,  he  answered  that  there 
might  be  some  mistake ;  that  it  was  possible  you  were  still 
living." 

"My  dear  father  I" 

"  The  uncertainty,  and  the  anxious  longing  to  see  you,  to 
which  it  has  given  rise,  has,  together  with  his  age,  made 
bim  severely  ill.     His  life  is  even  in  danger." 

"  He  is  not  dead ! "  exclaimed  Robert,  in  an  agitated 
tone. 

"  No,  or  I  should  have  been  informed.  He  directed  your 
cousin  to  advertise  for  you  in  the  public  papers,  such  was 
his  desire  to  hear  from  you,  if  still  living." 

"  I  have  not  looked  into  a  paper  for  months." 

"  K  you  had,  you  would  not  have  seen  the  advertisement. 
Your  cousin  has  been  much  too  careful  for  that.  Though  he 
appeared  to  acquiesce  in  your  father's  desire,  and  made  him 
believe  that  he  had  compl/ed  with  his  request,  he  never  did 

80." 

"  And  is  my  father  still  sick?" 

*'  He  is,  and  his  greatest  desire  is  to  see  you  before  he 
dies." 

Eobert  Ford  rose  hastily,  and,  going  to  the  table,  took  his 
hat. 

"  What  would  you  do,  sir  ?  " 


176  HELEN   FOBD. 

"I  must  go  and  see  my  father.  Did  you  not  say  he 
wished  it?" 

"  Stay,"  said  Mr.  Sharp ;  "  whatever  is  to  be  done  must 
be  done  cautiously,  or  your  cousin's  suspicions  will  be 
aroused,  and  your  purpose  frustrated.  I  will  arrange  mat- 
ters, if  you  will  authorize  me." 

"  Surely ;  but  let  not  the  delay  be  too  long.  Perhaps 
my  father  will  die  before  I  can  see  him." 

"  I  will  take  care  to  expedite  matters."    > 

"  I  leave  all  in  your  hands  ;  but  tell  me  at  least  where  you 
have  obtained  the  information  you  have  communicated." 

"  From  your  cousin  himself." 

"  Did  he  confess  it,  then?  "  asked  ^Ir.  Ford,  surprised. 

"  He  consulted  me  professionally.  But,  sir,"  continued 
Mr.  Sharp,  in  a  tone  of  lofty  consciousness,  "  as  soon  as  I 
became  aware  of  the  iniquity  in  which  he  desired  my  assist- 
ance, I  at  once  determined  to  do  all  that  might  be  in  my 
power  to  defeat  his  nefarious  designs." 

Nothing  could  exceed  the  moral  dignity  with  which  Mr. 
Sharp  uttered  these  words. 

"  I  will  not  tell  you,"  he  continued,  with  commendable 
self-denial,  "  how  many  thousands  your  cousin  offered,  if  I 
would  assist  him.  But  for  the  hope  of  aiding  in  his  discom- 
fiture, I  should  have  rejected  his  offers  with  indignation. 
Money  is  no  temptation  to  me  where  right  is  concerned. 
But  to  the  point.  In  the  present  case,  I  temporized.  Your 
cousin  even  now  thinks  I  am  devoted  to  his  interests,  and  it 
is  best  that  he  should  not  be  undeceived." 

" Do  you  know  where  my  father  lives?"  inquired  Robert, 
anxiously. 

"  It  is  in  Fifth  Avenue.  After  dinner  I  will  give  you  the 
direction  so  that  you  cannot  miss  it.  You  must  be  cautious 
in  your  approach,  and  when  the  door  is  opened,  proceed  at 
once  to  your  father's  room     It  is  very  probable  that  the 


Helen's  banquet.  177 

gervant  will  oppose  your  progress,  but  if  you  yield,  Lewis 
will  take  good  care  that  you  never  have  another  opportunity. 
May  I  request  on  the  score  of  prudence,  that  you  will  not 
compromise  me,  or  drop  the  slightest  intimation  that  I  have 
had  any  agency  in  sending  you  thither?" 

"My  dear  friend,"  said  Robert  Ford,  fervently,  "you 
may  rest  assured  that  I  will  respect  your  wishes,  of  whose 
wisdom  I  entertain  not  a  doubt." 

He  shook  hands  with  Mr.  Sharp,  cordially.  The  lawyer, 
with  an  appearance  of  profound  emotion,  put  his  handker- 
chief to  his  eyes,  and  returned  the  pressure. 

At  this  moment  Helen  entered,  followed  by  a  waiter  from 
a  restaurant,  from  which,  on  this  day  of  rejoicing,  she  had 
been  extravagant  enough  to  order  a  dinner. 

The  little  table  was  quickly  set  out  in  the  middle  of  the 
room,  and  spread  with  a  white  cloth,  and  upon  it  the  savory 
food  was  placed.  This  was,  indeed,  an  extraordinary  occa- 
sion. 

"  Why,  you  are  setting  forth  quite  a  banquet,  my  dear 
Miss  Ford,"  said  Mr.  Sharp,  rubbing  his  hands  gently,  for 
he  was  by  no  means  insensible  to  the  pleasures  of  the 
palate. 

At  this  moment  Martha  Grey,  the  seamstress,  unaware  of 
the  lawyer's  visit,  knocked  at  the  door. 

"  Jast  in  time,  Martha,"  said  Helen,  gayly.  "  We  want 
you  to  sit  on  this  side  the  table." 

"I  couldn't  think  of  it,"  said  Martha,  glancing  at  Mr. 
Sharp. 

"  I  hope  you  will  accept  my  daughter's  invitation,"  said 
Mr.  Ford,  courteously.  "  Permit  me,  JVIr.  Sharp,  to  intro- 
duce our  excellent  neighbor.  Miss  Grey." 

"  I  am  proud  to  make  your  acquaintance,  Miss  Grey," 
said  the  lawyer,  bowing  profoundly.  "  Any  fi-iend  of  my 
esteemed  friends,  Mr.  and  Miss  Ford,  needs  no  other  recom- 


178  HELEN   FOBD. 

mendation  in  my  eyes.  May  I  express  the  hope  that  you 
are  well?" 

"  Quite  so,  thank  you,  sir,"  said  Martha,  a  little  OTer- 
powered  by  the  lawyer's  elaborate  civility. 

She  was  at  length  persuaded  to  make  a  fourth  at  Helen's 
banquet. 

How  much  it  was  enjoyed  by  aU  present,  not  one  of  whom 
was  accustomed  to  such  good  fare  every  day ;  how  proudly 
and  gracefully  Helen  did  the  honors  of  the  occasion ;  how 
merrily  they  all  laughed  at  the  bungling  attempts  of  Mr. 
Ford  to  carve  the  fowls,  and  how,  finally,  he  was  compelled 
to  call  in  the  lawyer's  assistance ;  how  genial  and  affable 
Mr.  Sharp  was,  and  how  he  insisted  on  proposing  the  health 
of  Martha  Grey,  much  to  that  young  lady's  modest  confu- 
sion ;  how  his  deference  for  her  father  raised  him  every 
moment  in  Helen's  estimation,  —  all  this  I  must  leave  to  the 
imagination  of  the  reader,  while  I  prepare  in  the  next  chap- 
ter to  invite  him  to  a  dif erent  scene. 


CHAPTER  XXVin. 

THE  BELL  RINGS. 

Two  persons  who  are  nearly  concerned  in  the  revelation 
made  by  Mr.  Sharp  to  Robert  Ford,  now  demand  our  atten-* 
tion. 

First,  Mr.  Rand,  who,  upon  a  sick-bed,  worn-out  by  anxi- 
ety and  bodily  weakness,  is  fast  drifting  towards  that  un- 
seen world,  where  all  that  is  dark  and  mysterious  here  will 
be  disclosed,  and  we  shall  know  even  as  we  are  known^ 
The  second,  is  Lewis  Rand,  his  unworthy  nephew,  whose 
whole  soul  is  absorbed  by  the  eager  desire  to  secure  to  him- 
self his  uncle's  large  fortune.  Why  this  thirst  for  gold 
should  so  have  possessed  him,  is  not  so  clear.  It  was  not 
that  his  habits  were  extravagant,  for  such  was  not  the  case. 
He  was  no  voluptuary,  at  least  not  in  the  lowest  sense  of 
the  word.  It  was  not  for  the  mere  love  of  money  that  he 
craved  it.  He  was  elevated  above  the  mere  miser ;  but 
money  was  valuable  to  him  for  the  power  which  it  conferred, 
and  the  consequence  which  it  gave.  Lewis  Rand's  ambition 
had  taken  this  form.  He  desired  to  be  known  everywhere 
as  the  possessor  of  a  princely  fortune.  He  wished  others  to 
fawn  upon  him  as  he  had  fawned  upon  his  uncle.  As  his 
dependence  had  compelled  him  to  remain  in  a  subordinate 
position,  he  wished  others  to  become  subordinates  to  him. 
Money  he  must  have,  somehow.  So  for  years  he  had  labored 
to  establish  and  strengthen  his  position  as  his  uncle's  heir. 
The  inheritance  which  he  craved,  would  make  him  at  once  a 
millionnaire. 

17» 


180  HELEN    rORD. 

As  a  general  who  has  fortified  a  city,  so  as  to  make  it,  as 
he  considers,  impregnable,  and  at  the  last  discovers  a  weak 
place  which  endangers  the  whole,  exerts  all  his  energy'-  and 
all  the  resources  which  he  can  command  to  counteract  tbe 
danger,  so  Lewis  had,  as  we  have  seen,  set  in  motion  cer- 
tain agencies,  through  which  he  hoped  to  avert  the  peril 
which  menaced  him  in  his  cousin's  presence. 

"  Have  you  received  no  letters  in  answer  to  the  advertise- 
ment, Lewis  ?  "  asked  Mr.  Kand,  feebly. 

"  No,  uncle,  none  whatever." 

Mr.  Rand  sighed,  and  fell  back  upon  his  pillow. 

The  crimson  bed-curtains  were  drawn  apart,  revealing  the 
tiiin  and  wasted  form  of  the  old  man.  Thinner  and  more 
attenuated  he  grew  day  by  day.  Each  day  the  result  of  the 
struggle  for  life  became  less  doubtful.  A  strong  desire  for 
life  might  have  given  the  needed  stimulus  to  the  vital  func- 
tions, and  turned  the  scale  against  death,  but  the  sick  man 
had  ceased  to  desire  it. 

None  saw  this  more  clearly  than  Lewis.  With  his  cold, 
searching  eye  he  had  foUowed  the  slow  advances  of  the 
destroyer.  Not  a  word,  however,  had  escaped  him.  How 
he  trembled  when  the  lamp  of  life  burned  for  a  time  with  a 
steadier  radiance,  lest,  perchance,  it  might  prove  a  harbinger 
of  ultimate  recovery;  and  when  the  momentary  glow  had 
departed,  and  the  lamp  burned  so  low  that  it  seemed 
near  its  final  extinction,  he  breathed  more  freely,  and  a  glow 
of  triumph  lighted  up  his  dark  features,  —  features  that 
might  the  next  moment  wear  a  look  of  the  deepest  sympathy. 
For  Lewis  had  schooled  them  to  obey  the  dictates  of  his  will, 
and  had  not  fear  that  they  would  betray  him.  He  was  a 
gamester  who  had  staked  his  all  upon  a  single  venture,  and 
was  watching  the  chances  with  intense  eagerness. 

Morning  after  morning  as  he  stole  to  his  uncle's  bedside, 
it  was  with  a  secret  hop*  veiled  under  an  appearance  of  the 


THE  BELL  RINGS.  181 

greatest  solicitude,  that  he  might  find  the  struggle  ended. 
Each  day  he  hoped  might  prove  the  last,  —  that  from  his 
heart  the  burden  of  anxiety  and  the  weariness  of  waiting 
might  at  once  and  forever  be  lifted. 

Fortunate  was  it  for  the  old  man's  peace,  that  he  could  not 
read  this  wicked  wish  in  the  eyes  that  were  bent  upon  him. 
There  was  little  fear.  Could  he  conceive  it  possible  that  one 
whom  he  had  long  regarded  with  an  affection  second  only  to 
that  which  he  bore  his  own  son,  who  all  his  life  long  had 
never  ceased  to  receive  his  bounty;  could  he  dream  that 
Lewis  was  capable  of  cherishing  in  his  heart  a  hope  so 
unnatural?  So  far  from  this,  the  faintest  shadow  of  distrust 
had  never  entered  his  uncle's  thoughts.  In  his  face  he  read 
nothing  but  sympathy  and  compassion.  'Mr,  Lewis  Rand, 
could  you  but  sound  the  depth  of  wickedness  in  your  own 
heart,  could  you  drag  it  forth  to  the  light  and  survey  it  in 
all  its  deformity,"  how  would  even  your  hardened  nature 
shrink  aghast  and  horror-stricken  ?  Heaven  only  knows  with 
what  a  web  of  sophistry  you  excuse  this  treachery  of  the 
heart.  Could  this  be  rent  away,  you  could  hardly  stand  as 
calmly  as  you  do  by  the  bedside  of  that  old  man,  belying  in 
your  heart  the  filial  words  that  fall  so  glibly  from  your 
tongue.  Can  you  who  have  the  power  to  bring  happiness 
and  peace  to  that  bedside,  and  its  unhappy  occupant,  who 
can  bring  the  light  of  joy  to  those  eyes  soon  to  close  forever, 
and  repair  a  great  injustice,  still  refuse  to  do  it  ?  There  may 
come  a  time,  whether  near  or  remote,  Heaven  alone  knows, 
when  you  would  give  all  the  wealth  for  which  you  are  schem- 
ing if  you  had  only  done  it. 

On  receiving  a  negative  answer  to  his  question,  Mr.  Rand 
remained  for  some  time  silent,  with  his  face  turned  to  the  wall. 

"It  would  be  a  great  relief,"  he   sighed,  wearily,  "if  1 
tovld  but  see  my  son  once  before  I  die." 

"When  will  he  be  done  harping  on  his  son?"  muttered 

16 


182  HELEN    FORD. 

Lewis  to  himself.  "  He  seems  determined  to  torment  me  with 
it." 

He  said  aloud,  with  a  proper  display  of  emotion,  "  Do  not 
speak  of  dying,  uncle.     You  will  yet  recover." 

"  Never,  Lewis,  never.  There  is  something  that  tells  me 
this  sickness  will  be  my  last.  My  feet  will  soon  enter  the 
dark  valley  of  the  shadow  of  death.  I  have  reached  the  age 
set  by  the  Psalmist  as  the  limit  of  human  life.  Even  your 
kind  solicitude  cannot  call  me  back  from  the  grave  that 
awaits  me." 

"I  should  be  very  sorry  if  it  did,"  was  the  unspoken 
thought  of  Lewis,  as  he  replied,  covering  his  face  with  his 
handkerchief,  as  if  to  conceal  his  emotion,  "you  are  —  you 
must  be  deceived ;  you  are  looking  brighter  to-day." 

*' Lewis,  your  hopes  deceive  you.  On  the  contrary,  I 
never  felt  weaker  than  I  do  to-day.  I  have  never  felt  more 
entirely  satisfied  of  the  hopelessness  of  my  situation.  Yet 
why  do  I  say  'hopelessness ? '  I  do  not  fear  death.  Rather 
I  welcome  it  as  a  friend.  I  feel  no  vain  longing  for  a  con- 
tinuance of  that  life  which  is  gliding  from  my  grasp.  For 
the  last  few  years  I  have  enjoyed  too  little  happiness  to 
make  it  seem  very  attractive.  Wealth  can  do  little.  Even 
your  kind  attentions  have  failed.  The  consciousness  of 
wrong  done  and  unatoned  for  has  followed  me  all  these 
years.  One  wrong  act  has  imbittered  all  my  earthly  exist- 
ence." 

*'  My  dear  uncle,  I  regret  that  you  should  dwell  upon  such 
painful  thoughts.  Even  if  you  were  in  fault,  which  I  do  not 
believe,  you  are  agitating  yourself  now  to  no  purpose." 

"  Let  me  speak  now,  Lewis.  The  thought  is  always  with 
me,  and  I  am  relieved  by  speaking.  Never,  Lewis,  suffer 
yourself  to  be  led  hastily  into  a  wrong  act  —  never,  as  you 
value  your  soul's  peace.  The  thought  wiU  come  back  to  you 
in  after  years,  and  never  leave  you;  you  may  surround 


THE   BELL  RINGS.  183 

yourself  with  all  that  wealth  can  give,  even  as  I  have  done, 
and  your  heart  will  still  be  an  aching  void  into  which  no 
thought  of  joy  or  happiness  shall  enter.  When  you  are  on 
your  death-bed,  as  I  am  now,  you  will  feel  how  inestimable 
above  all  things  else  is  that  peace  of  mind  which  comes  from 
a  clear  conscience  and  an  unblemished  life." 

Standing  thus  at  his  uncle's  bedside,  with  more  than  one 
sin  unexpiated  upon  his  soul,  could  Lewis  listen  unrnv^ied 
to  words  which  gained  so  deep  a  significance  from  this 
utterance  by  a  dying  man?  Even  he  felt  vaguely  uncom- 
fortable as  he  listened,  mingled  with  an  angry  impatience 
which,  however,  he  dared  not  betray. 

"  I  feel  a  deep  conviction,"  continued  Mr.  Rand,  "  that 
Robert  is  still  living.  I  cannot  tell  whence  it  comes,  but  of 
nothing  am  I  more  thoroughly  persuaded.  I  had  hoped  that 
the  advertisement  would  prove  effectual  in  finding  him  out. 
You  are  sm'e  that  you  caused  its  insertion  in  papers  of  the 
largest  circulation  ?  " 

"  I  have  followed  your  directions,  uncle,"  said  Lewis, 
unblushingly,  "  notwithstanding  my  fear  that  it  would  lead 
to  nothing." 

**  You  did  right,  Lewis.  After  I  am  gone,  I  wish  you  to 
continue  the  advertisement.  Your  cousin  will  see  it  sooner  or 
later.  I  am  quite  sure  of  that.  And  when  after  a  time  he 
comes  back  to  you,  I  wish  you  to  see  that  the  provisions  of 
my  will  are  carried  out.  I  will  not  claim  your  promise.  I 
know  that  you  wiU  do  so." 

Lewis  bowed,  but  forebore  to  speak. 

"  That  is  not  all.  You  must  tell  him,  Lewis,  how  I  have 
sought  for  hhn,  and  how  with  a  sorrowful  heart  I  deplored 
my  own  injustice,  from  which  he  cannot  have  suffered  more 
than  I.  You  may  tell  him  that  I  forgive  him  if  he  feels  that 
there  is  anything  to  forgive,  in  the  hope  that  he  will  forgive 


184  HELBir   FORD. 

me  who  need  it  so  much  more.  You  will  tell  him  all  this, 
LewiB?" 

"  Can  you  doubt  it,  uncle  ?  "  asked  Lewis,  evasively. 

"  No,  Lewis,  I  have  perfect  confidence  in  you.  You  never 
have  deceived  me,  and  you  will  not  begin  now ;  and,  Lewis, 
you  must  try  to  atone  to  Robert,  in  my  stead,  for  the  wrong  he 
has  suffered.  Never  let  your  affection  for  me  persuade  you 
that  it  was  not  a  wrong.  I  would  far  rather  have  you  think 
harshly  of  me,  than  unjustly  of  your  cousin." 

"  I  will  endeavor  to  obey  you  even  in  that,  hard  though 
it  be,"  said  Lewis. 

At  that  moment  the  quiet  of  the  sick-chamber  was  broken 
in  by  a  sharp  peal  of  the  door-bell.  It  was  so  unusual  an 
oocarr^ice  in  that  solitary  household,  that  it  startled  both. 


CHAPTER  XXIX. 

THE  UNBmDEN  GUEST. 

I  CANNOT  explain  why  it  was,  that  the  unexpected  ringing 
of  the  bell  led  to  the  same  thought  in  the  minds  of  the  sick 
man  and  his  nephew.  Sudden  fear  blanched  the  face  of 
Lewis  ;  a  hopeful  look  stole  over  the  old  man's  face. 

"  Go,  Lewis,"  he  said.    "  Perhaps  it  is  Robert." 

"  Heaven  forbid  I "  muttered  Lewis,  as  he  hastened  from 
the  room. 

The  sound  of  contending  voices  struck  upon  the  ear  of 
Lewis  Rand,  as  he  hurriedly  descended  the  staircase  to  the 
hall.  The  outer  door  had  been  opened,  and  the  servant  was 
endeavoring  to  impress  upon  the  visitor,  in  obedience  to 
directions  he  had  received,  that  there  was  sickness  in  the 
house,  and  that  he  could  not  be  admitted. 

"Lead  me  to  his  chamber,"  said  Robert  Ford,  pale  with 
excitement,  "  I  must  see  him.    He  is  my  father." 

The  servant  looked  in  his  agitated  face,  and  moved  aside 
that  he  might  pass. 

Lewis  encountered  him  at  the  foot  of  the  stairs.  They 
looked  at  each  other  —  those  long-estranged  cousins  —  a 
moment  in  silence.  Lewis  was  as  pale  as  death.  His  lips 
were  compressed  and  bloodless.  The  shadow  of  failure 
darkened  his  way.  Dismay  and  anger  and  strong  disap- 
pointment struggled  with  him  for  the  mastery.  Robert  was 
calmer.  He  would  not  have  been  human  if  the  sight  of  his 
oousin  had  not  awakened  within  him  a  feeling  of  resentment. 

VBf*  18S 


186  HELEN   FORD. 

But  this  was  swallowed  up  by  a  feeling  yet  stronger — the 
desire  to  see  his  father. 

"Where  is  my  father,  Lewis?"  he  demanded.  "Tell  me 
quickly." 

He  was  about  to  pass,  when  his  cousin  stepped  before 
him. 

"  Hold  1 "  he  exclaimed,  in  a  quick,  hoarse  voice.  *'  "Would 
you  endanger  your  father's  life  ?  He  is  in  a  most  critical 
condition.    The  least  excitement  may  kill  him." 

Robert  hesitated  for  a  moment.  After  a  separation  of 
eighteen  years  he  stood  within  a  few  feet  of  his  father,  and 
was  forbidden  to  enter  his  presence.  Nothing  short  of  the 
urgent  reason  adduced  by  Levris,  would  have  stopped  him 
for  a  moment. 

"Is  my  father,  then,  so  ill?"  he  asked,  with  emotion. 
**  Why,  oh  why  did  you  not  send  for  me  before  ?  " 

"  Do  you  think  I  would  not  if  I  had  known  where  to  find 
you?"  said  Lewis,  ignorant  how  far  Robert  had  been 
apprised  of  his  machinations. 

"  I  cannot  tell,"  said  Robert,  shaking  his  head.  "  There 
was  a  time,  Lewis,  when  I  could  not  have  deemed  you 
capable  of  it." 

"And  why  should  you  now?  " 

"  I  cannot  tell  you  at  present ;  but  I  must  see  my  father.** 

"  I  tell  you  again,"  said  Lewis,  vehemently,  "  that  if  you 
eee  him,  it  will  be  at  the  perU  of  his  life.  It  hangs  upon  a 
thread." 

Meanwhile  Mr.  Rand  had  listened  with  feverish  anxiety 
to  the  voices  which  he  could  indistinctly  hear.  A  wild  hope 
had  sprung  up  in  his  heart.  Oh,  for  the  power  to  rise  from 
Jiis  bed  and  satisfy  himself  at  once.  Alas,  this  could  not  be ! 
At  length,  as  the  speakers  raised  their  voices,  he  thought 
he  could  distinguish  the  word  "father."     His   agitation 


THE  UNBIDDEN  GUEST.  187 

reached  a  fearful  pitch.    He  raised  his  voice  as  high  as  his 
feeble  strength  would  permit,  and  called  "  Robert ! " 

That  word  reached  the  ears  of  Robert  Ford.  Nothing 
oould  stop  him  now.  He  pushed  Lewis  aside,  scarcely  con- 
scious what  he  did,  and  a  moment  after  found  him  kneeling 
at  his  father's  bedside. 

"  Father,  forgive  me  I  ** 

The  old  man,  with  an  effort,  stretched  out  his  thtu  and 
wasted  hand,  and  placed  it  tremulous  with  weakness  upon 
the  head  of  his  kneeling  son. 

"God,  I  thank  thee,"  he  uttered,  reverently,  "for  this 
hour.  This  my  son  was  dead  and  is  alive  again,  he  was  lost 
and  is  found.  Robert,  I  have  forgiven  you  long  ago.  Can 
you  forgive  me  ?  " 

"Do  you  then  ask  my  forgiveness,  O  my  father?" 

"  Yes,  Robert.  My  heart  has  long  since  confessed  the 
wrong  it  did  you.     Can  you  forgive  me?" 

"  Freely,  freely,  my  father." 

"  Now  can  I  die  content,"  said  ^Ir.  Rand,  with  a  deep 
sigh  of  relief.  "  For  many,  many  years  I  have  waited  and 
looked  forward  to  this  hour.  I  could  not  believe  that  Grod 
would  suffer  me  to  die  till  I  had  seen  you." 

"  Die  I  "  repeated  Robert,  in  a  sorrowful  tone. 

"  Yes,  Robert,  you  have  come  at  the  eleventh  hour." 

"  And  for  months  I  have  lived  within  two  miles  of  yoiu 
and  never  guessed  your  nearness." 

" Did  you  not  see  my  advertisement?" 

"  Never." 

"How  is  this?"  said  Mr.  Rand,  puzzled.  "In  what 
papers  was  it  inserted,  Lewis  ?  " 

Lewis  stood  at  the  door,  an  apprehensive  listener.  For 
obvious  reasons  he  did  not  choose  to  obey  tiiis  call. 

It  may  be  because  I  seldom  look  at  the  papers,"  said 


a 


188  HELEN    FOSD. 

Robert,  not  wishing  to  agitate  his  father  with  the  intelligence 
of  his  cousin's  treachery. 

"But  others  must  have  seen  it,"  persisted  Mr.  Kand. 
"  Why  did  they  not  tell  you  ?  " 

"  I  passed  by  a  different  name,"  explained  Robert.  "  None 
that  knew  me — and  these  were  but  few  —  could  guess  my 
identity  with  Robert  Rand." 

At  his  father's  request  Robert  gave  a  brief  account  of  the 
eighteen  years  of  separation.  He  sat  with  his  father's  hand 
resting  in  his.  As  he  concluded,  a  convulsion  passed  over 
the  old  man's  features.  He  clasped  Robertas  hand  convul- 
sively. The  son  leaned  forward,  hoping  to  catch  the  words 
that  seemed  struggling  for  utterance.  He  could  only  dis- 
tinguish "  my  will  ^ — reparation." 

These  were  the  last  words  that  passed  the  lips  of  the 
dying  man. 

He  breathed  his  life  out  in  the  effort,  and  fell  back— 
dead! 

Robert  had,  indeed,  come  at  the  eleventh  hour.  Yet  had 
he  not  come  too  late  to  malie  his  father's  death-bed  happy. 
A  peaceful  smile  rested  upon  the  worn  face.  His  life  had 
closed  happily. 

Meanwhile  what  had  become  of  Lewis  ? 

It  was  difficult  for  him  at  first  to  collect  his  thoughts  at 
this  most  unexpected  occurrence. 

At  first  he  thought,  "  All  is  lost.    My  hopes  are  blasted ! " 

His  second  thought,  when  he  had  recovered  from  the 
momentary  shock  of  his  cousin's  appearance,  was,  "  It  may 
not  be  as  bad  as  I  fear.  The  old  man  cannot  live  long. 
This  very  excitement  will  probably  prove  too  much  for  him 
in  his  present  weak  state.  During  the  short  time  he  has  to 
live,  it  is  not  probable  that  anything  will  happen  to  disar- 
range my  plans.  In  the  first  place,  he  thinks  that  his  will 
provides  for  his  son.    And  so  his  true  will  does!    But  I 


THE   UNBIDDEN  GUEST.  189 

have  taken  care  that  this  shall  not  be  brought  forward.  My 
ancle  and  cousin  will  probably  spend  the  time  in  sentimen- 
talizing. It  will  be  well  for  me  not  to  intrude  upon  this 
interview,  or  I  may  be  asked  some  awkward  questions. 
Lewis  Rand,  this  is  the  turning-point  of  your  fortunes.  Be 
discreet  for  a  short  time,  and  all  may  yet  be  well." 

There  was  one  point  that  Lewis  did  not  understand. 
How  his  cousin  could  have  learned  of  his  father's  presence 
in  the  city.  He  did  not  suspect  Mr.  Sharp's  fidelity,  but 
thought  it  possible  that  he  might,  by  some  blunder,  have 
revealed  to  Robert  that  of  which  he  should  have  been  kept 
ignorant.  At  all  events  the  lawyer  was  the  only  one  likely 
to  yield  him  any  satisfaction  upon  this  point.  Accordingly, 
willing  to  be  out  of  the  way  for  the  present,  he  seized  his 
hat,  and  hastened  to  the  ofllce  of  his  confidential  agent. 

Mr.  Sharp  was,  it  must  be  confessed,  awaiting  with  no 
little  amdety  and  curiosity,  the  result  of  Mr.  Ford's  visit, 
which  might  so  materially  effect  his  own  interests. 

There  was  a  sharp  knock  at  the  door.  He  rose  and 
opened  it. 

Lewis  entered  in  great  evident  perturbation. 

"Bless  me,  what's  the  matter?"  exclaimed  Mr.  Sharp,  in 
affected  surprise. 

"  You  may  well  ask  me  what's  the  matter." 

"  You  don't  mean  to  say " 

"  I  do  mean  to  say  that  all  my  plans  are  menaced  with 
defeat." 

"But,  how?" 

"  My  cousin  Robert  is  at  this  moment  with  his  father." 

"  Good  heavens  I "  ejaculated  the  lawyer,  in  admirably 
counterfeited  consternation.     "  How  did  this  come  about?  " 

"  That  is  more  than  I  can  pretend  to  say.  I  came  to  yon 
ftff  the  sake  of  obtaining  information," 

"  Which  I  am  wholly  unable  to  afford." 


190  HELEN  FOBD. 

Lewis  threw  himself  upon  a  chair. 

*'  To  think,"  he  exclaimed,  bitterly,  "  that  this  should  hap< 
pen  when  I  am  just  within  reach  of  success.  Twenty-four 
hours  more,  and  it  would  probably  have  been  too  late  ! " 

"How?" 

"  I  mean  that  my  uncle  probably  has  not  twenty-four 
hours  lease  of  life,  unless  this  meeting  revives  him.  The 
probability  is,  that  it  will  have  a  contrary  effect." 

"  Do  you  consider  that  you  have  lost  all  ?  " 

"  Fortunately,  no.  I  am  in  hopes  that  this  interview  will, 
after  all,  prove  of  no  advantage  to  my  cousin." 

"  Ah  I  "  said  Mr.  Sharp,  rubbing  his  hands  with  apparent 
delight,  but  secret  anxiety,  beginning  for  the  first  time  to 
feel  that  he  would  not  be  recompensed  for  his  treachery. 

"  Yes.  It  is  not  likely  that  my  uncle  will  be  able  to  make 
a  new  will,  and  the  present  one  I  shall  be  very  well  con- 
tented with." 

"  Confusion  I "  thought  the  lawyer.  "  I  wish  I  could  only 
see  the  old  gentleman,  and  whisper  a  few  words  in  his  ear." 

If  Lewis  had  not  been  too  much  absorbed  in  calculating 
his  own  chance,  he  might  have  noticed  that  Mr.  Sharp's 
wonted  affability  had  deserted  him,  and  that  he,  too,  seemed 
preoccupied. 


CHAPTER  XXX. 

PALLIDA  MOBS. 

Arras  his  interview  with  the  lawyer,  Lewis  took  his  way 
kome ;  his  heart  alternately  cheered  with  hope,  or  disturbed 
by  apprehension.  On  the  whole,  however,  hope  predomi- 
nated. It  was  based  on  the  knowledge  that  neither  his 
uncle  nor  his  cousin  were  men  of  business,  and  at  this 
moment  both  would  have  too  many  other  things  to  think  of 
to  recur  to  that  which  he  dreaded. 

As  he  opened  the  outer  door,  he  met  a  servant  in  the 
luOl. 

"  How  is  my  uncle,  now,  Jane?"  he  asked. 

**  I  don't  know,  sir ;  I  haven't  been  up  stairs  since  yon 
went  away." 

"  Is  my  —  is  the  gentleman  that  came  in  a  little  while 
ago  still  here  ?  "  he  inquired,  anxiously. 

"  Yes,  sir,  I  think  so ;  I  haven't  seen  him  go  out." 

"Have  you  heard  any  talking?  I  am  afraid  my  uncle 
will  be  too  much  excited  by  a  visitor  at  this  time." 

"  I  heard  a  faint  murmur  like  as  if  they  were  talking 
awhile  ago,  but  I  haven't  heard  anything  for  a  few  minutes. 
May  I  be  so  bold  as  to  ask  if  the  gentleman  is  a  relation, 
8ir?" 

"  Yes,"  said  Lewis,  shortly.  "  You  say  you  have  heard 
no  sound  proceeding  jfrom  the  room  for  a  few  minutes  ?  " 

"  No,  sir." 

"Perhaps  he  is  dead,"  thought  Lewis,  hopefully.    "At 

any  rate,  I  will  go  up  and  see." 

m 


192  HELEN   FORD. 

"  That  will  do,"  he  said  to  the  servant,  who  was  still  in 
waiting.  "  I  am  going  up  into  my  uncle's  room,  and  if  1 
sihould  want  you  I  will  ring.** 

"  I  wonder  who  the  gentleman  is,"  said  the  servant,  to 
herself.  "  He  said  Mr.  Rand  was  his  father.  I  never  heard 
that  he  had  a  son,  for  my  part.  If  he  is,  I  suppose  he  will 
inherit  the  property.  I  wonder  how  Mr.  Lewis  will  like 
that.  Well,  I  don't  much  care  if  he  is  disappointed,  for  I 
don't  like  him,  and  never  did." 

The  dictatorial  manner  of  Lewis  had  not  gained  him 
friends  among  the  servants,  and  none  of  them  could  be 
expected  to  feel  a  very  profound  sorrow  for  any  reverses 
which  fate  might  have  in  store  for  him. 

Lewis  Rand  softly  ascended  the  stairs,  and  entered  his 
uncle's  bed-chamber. 

It  needed  only  a  glance  to  assure  him  that  his  wish  was 
granted.  His  heart  leaped  with  exultation  at  the  thought. 
This  was  the  only  thing  which  could  give  him  a  perfect  sense 
of  security.  Now,  by  the  substitution  of  the  forged  will, 
he  felt  that  his  interests  were  secured.  The  estate  was  his 
beyond  the  possibility  of  a  transfer. 

Now  that  his  cousin  was  no  longer  to  be  feared  as  a  rival, 
he  felt  that  it  would  be  both  safe  and  politic,  to  treat  him 
with  a  degree  of  consideration.  This  course  would  be  likely 
to  mislead  suspicion,  if  any  should  be  excited,  when  it  was 
found,  as  it  soon  would  be,  that  his  cousin  shared  no  por- 
tion of  his  father's  princely  estate. 

"  My  uncle  sleeps  ? "  he  said,  inquiringly,  as  he  entered 
the  chamber. 

"  Yes,"  said  Robert,  solemnly,  lifting  up  a  wan  face  from 
the  bed-clothes  in  which  it  was  buried;  "the  sleep  that 
knows  no  waking." 

Apparently  much  shocked  at  this  intelligenee,  Lewis 
started  back  with  an  ejaculation  of  sorrow. 


PALLIDA    MOBS.  193 

"  I  ought  not  to  feel  surprised,"  he  said,  in  a  low  voice ; 
"  it  is  an  event  which  I  have  been  expecting  and  fearing  for 
many  weeks.    Yet  its  actual  coming  finds  me  unprepared." 

With  his  mournful  gaze  intently  fixed  upon  the  old  man's 
face,  Robert  paid  little  heed  to  his  cousin's  words.  Thoughts 
of  the  long  weary  years  that  had  intervened  since  he  parted 
from  his  father,  then  in  the  strength  and  pride  of  that  man- 
hood, upon  which  he  himself  was  just  entering,  and  the 
changes  that  had  since  come  over  each,  till  the  present  sad 
moment  brought  them  together,  crowded  upon  him  with  a 
force  which  he  could  not  resist,  and  he  sat  there,  looking 
straight  before  him,  vainly  endeavoring  to  reconcile  the  past 
with  the  present,  till  he  was  tempted  to  think  the  past 
eighteen  years  but  a  dream,  from  which  he  would  ere  long 
awake. 

It  did  not  take  him  long  to  recover  from  that  delusion. 

As  he  lifted  his  eyes  he  met  his  own  reflection  in  the  mir- 
ror opposite.  That  was  no  young  man's  face  that  met  his 
gaze.  The  freshness  of  youth,  had  given  place  to  the  grave 
careworn  look  of  later  years.  The  once  dark  hair  was 
threaded  here  and  there  with  silver.  The  smooth  brow  was 
sown  with  premature  wrinldes.  The  cheek  had  lost  its 
bloom,  and  was  now  thin  and  sallow.  In  all  this  there  was 
no  deception.  But  even  if  this  had  not  been  sufficient,  he 
had  but  to  look  towards  the  bed,  to  realize  how  time  had 
passed.  That  thin,  shrunken  old  man  who  lay  there  —  was 
that  his  father  ?  No,  there  was  no  mistaking  all  this  ;  these 
years  of  estrangement  were  no  vain  imaginings  ;  they  were 
all  too  sad  realities. 

And  there,  but  a  few  steps  from  him,  sat,  with  a  look  of 
hypocritical  sorrow,  the  man  who  had  lent  his  best  efforts  to 
widen  the  breach,  of  which  he  had  been  the  cause,  and 
throw  up  a  permanent  wall  of  separation  between  the  father 
and  the  son.    He  had  changed  least  of  the  three.     There 

17 


194  HELEN    FORD. 

was  the  same  plausible  smile,  the  same  crafty  look  about  the 
•yes  that  seldom  met  your  gaze.  There  were  no  wrinkles  t© 
be  seen  on  his  brow.  Neither  had  his  heart  changed.  It 
was  as  foil  of  subtlety  and  evil  thoughts  and  plans  as  eT«r. 

Lewis  Rand  had  changed  least  of  the  three,  yet,  of  theM 
aU,  he  was  farthest  removed  from  the  freshness  and  «im- 
plicity  of  childhood,  that  had  never  been  his.  He  was  one 
of  those  who  seem  never  to  have  been  young. 

'^  Cousin  Robert,"  said  Lewis,  with  an  air  of  grave  cour- 
tesy, "  although  our  grief  is  so  fresh  that  all  other  thoughts 
seem  intrusive,  yet  there  are  certain  things  that  must  be 
thought  of.  It  is  right  and  proper  that  you  should  partici- 
pate with  me  in  paying  the  last  offices  of  respect  and  affec- 
tion to  our  lamented  relative.  You  were  nearer  to  him  than 
I.  It  is  fitting  that,  from  you,  should  proceed  the  orders 
relative  to  the  funeral." 

"  It  is  a  right  which  I  have  no  disposition  to  exercise.  I 
would  much  rather  leave  it  entirely  in  your  hands.  My 
mind  is  not  in  a  fit  state  to  enter  upon  such  arrangements." 

"  You  have  stated  my  own  case,"  said  Lewis,  in  a  voice 
of  well-counterfeited  emotion.  "  The  death  of  my  dear 
uncle,  for  whom  I  cherished  so  deep  an  affection,  and  to 
whom  I  am  indebted  for  so  many  acts  of  kindness,  weighs 
most  heavily  upon  my  heart.  Nothing  but  an  imperative 
sense  of  duty  would  enable  me  to  bear  up  under  it.  But  I 
will,  if  you  desire  it,,  so  far  overcome  my  grief,  as  to  give 
the  necessary  directions." 

"  I  shall  be  glad  to  have  you  do  so,"  said  Robert,  briefly. 

There  had  been  a  time  when  he  would  not  have  questioned 
his  cousin's  sincerity,  but  gratefully  accepted  his  proffered 
sympathy,  —  when  his  own  heart  would  have  been  soothed 
by  this  companionship  in  grief.  But  the  revelation  of  his 
cousiu's  perfidy  had  been  too  recent,  —  the  memory  of  his 
wrongs  was  too  fresh.    He  might,  in  time,  forgive,  but  he 


PALLIDA   HOBS.  195 

could  not  at  once  forget.  He  did  not  look  towards  his 
cousin,  but  his  eyes  were  fixed  continually  upon  the  father 
from  whom  he  had  been  separated  for  eighteen  years,  —  from 
whom  the  grave  must  soon  separate  him,  till  he  too  lay  as 
still  and  motionless  as  his  father  now  lay,  outstretched 
before  him. 

Lewis  was  about  to  leave  the  room,  when  he  paused,  as  if 
struck  by  a  sudden  thought. 

"  Pardon  me,"  he  said,  hesitatingly,  "  but  this  unhappy 
separation  has  left  us  so  much  in  ignorance  of  each  other, 
that  I  am  not  informed  whether  you  have  children." 

"  I  have  one  daughter." 

"  And  your  wife  ?  " 

"  Is  no  longer  living." 

"Will  you  leave  me  your  direction,  that  I  may  send  a 
carriage  ?  " 

"  It  will  not  be  necessary.  We  will  take  a  carriage  from 
here." 

"  As  you  please.  One  thing  more.  Pardon  me  if  I  am 
wrong,  for  I  know  nothing  of  your  circumstances ;  you  may 
require  a  sum  of  money  to  procure  proper  mourning." 

"  It  is  needless,"  said  Robert,  briefly.  "  We  are  suffi- 
ciently provided." 

"Proud  as  ever!"  muttered  Lewis,  to  himself.  "We'll 
see  how  long  that  continues.  If  I  am  not  greatly  mistaken, 
he  will  be  glad  enough  to  avail  himself  of  my  offers  before 
long." 

Meanwhile,  Helen  had  reached  home,  and  was  wondering 
what  had  detained  her  father  so  long.  He  had  gone  out  with 
Mr.  Sharp,  not  mentioning  where  he  was  going. 

She  began  to  be  afraid  that,  in  one  of  his  not  unusual  fits 
of  abstraction,  he  had  met  with  some  accident,  perhaps  been 
run  over  by  some  passing  vehicle,  while  crossing  the  street. 

"  Where  can  he  be?"   she  was  asking,  anxiously,  for  the 


196  HELEN    FORD. 

tenth  time  at  least,  when,  to  her  great  joy,  she  at  length 
heard  liis  familiar  step  upon  the  stairs. 

She  hastened  to  the  door,  exclaiming,  "Why,  papa, 
why  have  you  been  gone  so  long  ?  " 

She  looked  into  his  face,  and  suddenly  stopped  short. 
She  saw,  by  his  expression,  that  something  had  happened. 

"  What  is  the  matter,  papa?"  she  asked,  apprehensively. 

"  We  have  met  with  a  great  misfortune,  Helen,"  said  Mr. 
Ford,  gravely. 

"  A  great  misfortune  I     Has  yoiu:  invention  then  failed? " 

"  It  is  not  that,  Helen.  Did  you  ever  hear  me  speak  of 
your  grandfather  ?  " 

"  No." 

"  I  will  tell  you  the  reason  now.  There  had  been  a  long 
and  unhappy  alienation  between  us,  —  longer,  I  have  since 
found,  than  there  need  to  have  been,  if  we  could  only  have 
met  and  had  a  mutual  understanding.  I  married  against 
my  father's  wishes.  If  he  had  once  seen  your  mother,  Hel- 
en, he  would,  I  am  sure,  have  withdrawn  all  his  opposition. 
As  it  was,  we  separated  eighteen  years  ago,  and  to-day  we 
met  for  the  last  time." 

"  But  the  misfortune,  papa?" 

"  We  met  at  his  death-bed,  Helen ;  but,  thank  Heaven,  not 
too  late  for  a  full  reconciliation.  An  hour  since,  your 
grandfather  died,  with  his  hand  clasped  in  mine.  The 
funeral  takes  place  day  after  to-morrow.  We  must  procure 
fitting  dresses.  I  do  not  understand  such  things,  but  you 
can  consult  with  Martha." 

Helen  wished  to  learn  more  of  her  grandfather,  of  whom 
she  now,  for  the  first  time,  heard ;  but  she  saw  and  respected 
her  father's  grief,  and  forebore  to  question  him. 


CHAPTER  XXXI. 

BEADINa  THE  WILL. 

Although  the  funeral  of  Mr.  Rand  was  not  largely 
attended,  —  for  his  seclusion  had  prevented  his  making 
many  acquaintances  in  the  city, — no  expense  was  spared 
upon  it.  Lewis  was  determined  that,  so  far  as  money  went, 
every  respect  should  be  paid  to  his  uncle's  memory.  Per- 
haps he  thought  in  this  way  to  atone  for  the  grievous  wrong 
which  he  had  done  him.  To  his  cousin  and  Helen  he  was 
sedulously  polite  and  even  deferential,  so  that  those  who 
could  look  no  deeper  than  the  surface  might  well  suppose 
him  to  be  all  that  a  kind  and  affectionate  relation  ought  to  be. 

On  the  day  succeeding  the  funeral  the  will  was  appointed 
to  be  read. 

**  Of  course  you  will  be  present,  Robert,"  said  Lexris, 
"you  and  your  daughter.  I  need  hardly  say  that  I  am 
entirely  ignorant  of  the  manner  in  which  my  uncle  had  seen 
fit  to  dispose  of  his  property.  I  have  reason,  indeed,  to 
think  that  he  has  made  some  small  provision  for  me.  But 
whatever  may  be  the  purport  of  the  will  which  is  to  be  read 
to-morrow,  I  pledge  myself  in  advance  to  interpose  no 
obstacle  to  its  provisions." 

Perhaps  he  expected  a  similar  declaration  from  Robert, 
but  his  cousin  kept  silence. 

The  next  morning  at  ten  o'clock  the  will  was  read.  A 
small  company  was  gathered  in  the  library  of  the  deceased. 
Lewis  leaned  his  arm  upon  the  table  by  which  he  sat,  with  a 

17*  197 


198  HELEN   FOBD. 

doimcast  look  but  a  throbbing  heart.  One  brief  form  morc^ 
and  the  object  of  his  life  would  be  attained. 

The  document  was  not  a  long  one.  After  the  usual  intro- 
duction, the  testator  bequeathed  aU  his  property,  real  and 
personal,  without  reserve,  to  his  dear  nephew,  Lewis  Rand, 
for  whom  he  cherished  a  strong  affection. 

There  was  a  slight  flush  upon  the  face  of  Robert  Ford,  or 
Robert  Rand,  as  we  should  now  call  him.  It  was  not  strange 
that  he  should  display  some  emotion  at  being  thus  publicly 
ignored,  and  his  birthright  transferred  to  another.  As  he 
looked  up,  he  thought  he  could  detect  a  momentary  gleam 
of  exultation  in  the  face  of  Lewis.  But  it  was  immediately 
repressed. 

The  lawyer,  who  had  previously  been  made  acquainted 
with  the  fact  that  Robert  was  a  son  of  the  deceased,  looked 
surprised. 

"Was  this  expected?"  he  asked.  "How  shall  we  ac- 
count for  no  mention  being  made  of  your  name,"  address- 
ing Robert,  "  as  his  son,  and  direct  heir?  such  an  omission 
is  extraordinary." 

"  My  father,"  said  Robert,  calmly,  "  was  not  aware  of  my 
existence.  He  had  not  seen  me  for  many  years,  and  had 
been  led  to  believe  me  dead.  It  was  only  accidentally  "  — 
his  glance  rested  for  a  moment  on  his  cousin,  who  strove  to 
look  unconcerned — "that  I  was  enabled  to  discover  his 
residence  in  this  city,  and  make  myself  known  to  him  before 
he  died." 

He  was  proud  enough  to  wish  to  keep  concealed  the  long 
estrangement  between  them,  desiring  to  shield  his  father's 
memory  from  any  reproach  which  this  omission  might  be 
thought  to  cast  i  pon  it. 

"  My  cousin  is  quite  right,"  said  Lewis.  "  His  father  and 
myself  believed,  on  what  we  supposed  to  be  reliable  evidence, 
that  he  died  some  years  since  in  Chicago.    It  is  a  source  of 


BEADING  THE   WELL.  199 

regret  to  me  that  our  mistake  was  discovered  at  so  late  a 
period,  when  in  consequence  of  the  near  approach  of  death, 
it  was  impossible  for  my  uncle  to  make  any  change  in  the 
disposition  of  his  estate." 

The  lawyer  who,  without  having  any  definite  grounds  of 
suspicion,  distrusted  Lewis  and  his  smooth  professions, 
answered,  coldly, "  Your  regret  will  no  doubt  be  consid- 
erably lessened  when  you  reflect  that  the  property  which  you 
acknowledge  has  come  to  you  by  mistake,  is  at  your  absolute 
disposal,  and  that  it  is  therefore  in  your  power  to  remedy  this 
unintended  wrong." 

The  sallow  face  of  Lewis  flushed  beneath  the  penetrating 
gaze  of  the  lawyer,  who,  he  saw,  suspected  the  real  nature 
which  he  kept  concealed  beneath  a  flimsy  veil  of  deception 
and  hypocrisy. 

But  he  was  prepared  even  for  this  emergency. 

"  That  is  true,"  he  said,  "  and  although  my  reverence  for 
the  expressed  wishes  of  the  deceased  will  not  permit  me  to 
interfere  materially  with  the  disposition  which  he  has  made, 
I  shall  take  care  that  my  cousin  is  provided  for.  Robert,  if 
you  will  do  me  the  favor  to  remain  after  this  form  is  over, 
I  shall  be  glad  to  explain  what  I  propose  to  do." 

Lewis  had  been  thinking  of  this  contingency.  He  saw 
that  it  would  be  absolutely  necessary  to  make  some  provis- 
ion for  his  cousin,  as  well  to  quiet  the  world's  censure  as 
more  eflectually  to  ward  off  suspicion  from  himself. 

In  the  western  part  of  Pennsylvania  there  was  a  small 
farm,  worth,  with  the  buildings  upon  it,  three  or  four  thou- 
sand dollars.  This  was  but  an  insignificant  item  in  the  list 
of  Mr.  Rand's  possessions.  It  was  this  farm  that  Lewis 
proposed  bestowing  upon  his  cousin.  It  would,  he  thought, 
be  a  cheap  way  of  securing  his  acquiescence  in  the  provis- 
ions of  the  will,  and  remove  him  to  an  obscure  neighbor- 
hood, where  he  would  have  Uttle  power  of  doing  hun  harm. 


200  HELEN    FORD. 

When  all,  save  Helen  and  her  father,  had  departed,  Lewis 
turned  to  his  cousin,  and  after  repeating,  at  some  length,  his 
expressions  of  regret  that  his  uncle  had  not  been  spared  to 
make  a  change  in  the  disposition  of  his  property,  concluded 
by  tendering  him,  as  a  free  gift,  the  farm  in  question,  to- 
gether with  two  hundred  dollars  in  money,  which  he  judged 
would  be  sufficient  to  convey  them  hither,  and  pay  any  little 
debts  which  they  might  have  incurred. 

Robert  listened  in  surprise  to  this  disgraceful  proposition. 
He  was  not  a  practical  man,  and  in  business  matters  he  was 
very  liable  to  be  deceived.  But  he  knew  sufficient  of  the 
extent  of  his  father's  wealth  to  divine,  that  the  pittance 
which  his  cousin  offered  was  less  than  the  hundredth  part  of 
the  entire  estate. 

Knowing  this,  his  pride  rose  in  indignant  rebellion  at  this 
insult. 

"  Do  you  think,  Lewis,"  he  said,  scornfully,  "  that  if  my 
father  had  lived  long  enough  to  change  his  will  according  to 
the  desire  which  you  have  several  times  seen  fit  to  express, 
that  this  is  the  provision  which  he  would  have  made  for 
me?" 

"If  you  do  not  consider  it  sufficient,"  said  Lewis,  eva- 
sively, "  I  will  say  a  thousand  dollars,  in  addition  to  the 
farm.  That  will  enable  you  to  stock  it  amply,  and  live 
quite  independently." 

"  You  are  generous,"  said  Robert,  with  sarcasm,  for  his 
spirit  was  now  fully  roused ;  "  but  think  not  that  I  will 
become  a  pensioner  upon  your  bounty.  One  tenth  part  even 
of  the  pittance  which  you  offer  me,  if  it  came  from  my 
father,  I  would  gratefully  accept.  But  for  you,  who  bestow 
your  alms  upon  me  as  if  I  were  a  beggar,  instead  of  the  son 
of  the  man  fi-om  whom  all  your  wealth  is  wrongfully  derived, 
I  scorn  your  gift,  and  reject  it." 


READING    THE   WILL.  201 

"  You  are  hasty,  and  may  regi^et  your  decision.  Think  of 
your  daughter,  —  would  you  leave  her  penniless  ?  " 

"  Let  her  decide  that  question.  Helen,  shall  we  accept 
what  this  man  offers,  or  shall  we  preserve  our  humble  inde- 
pendence, as  we  have  done  heretofore  ?  " 

"  So  long  as  I  have  you,  papa,  it  is  enough.  God  will 
take  care  of  us." 

"You  hear  her  answer,  Lewis  Rand.  I  ha\re  but  one 
thing  to  say  to  you  before  we  part,  —  it  may  be  for  the  last 
time  upon  earth.  I  am  not  ignorant  of  the  arts  by  which 
you  have  brought  about  and  kept  up  the  estrangement  be- 
tween my  father  and  myself;  how  many  overtures  towards 
reconciliation  on  either  side  have  been  defeated  through 
your  machinations ;  how  carefully  you  have  kept  alive  in 
my  father's  heart  the  belief  that  I  was  dead,  though  you 
knew  it  to  be  false.  By  such  means  you  have  compassed 
your  object.  I  do  not  envy  you  your  reward.  Far  less  wiU 
I  be  indebted  to  you  for  a  miserable  pittance  of  that  wealth 
which  you  have  wrested  from  me  by  a  systematic  course  of 
treachery  and  deceit.     Come,  Helen,  let  us  go." 

Lewis  Rand  turned  red  and  white  by  turns  during  this 
unexpected  address,  which  satisfied  him  that  Mr.  Sharp  had 
proved  faithless  to  his  trust.  But  flushed  as  he  was  with 
success,  he  could  afford  to  disregard  it  all  now. 

"  Do  as  3^ou  please,"  he  said,  coldly.  "  At  any  rate,  you 
cannot  deny  that  I  have  made  the  offer.  You  may,  some 
day,  regret  not  having  accepted  it." 

"  Never !  "  said  his  cousin,  vehemently. 

"  Very  well ;  that  is  your  affair.  In  reference  to  the 
grave  charges  which  you  have  seen  fit  to  bring  against  my 
character,  I  have  only  to  say,  that  I  defy  you  to  prove  them. 
Farewell  I  I  would  have  been  your  Mend.  Since  you  would 
have  me  for  your  enemy,  so  let  it  be." 


202  HELEN    FOKD. 

"  I  care  as- little  for  the  one  as  for  the  other,"  said  Robert^ 
proudly. 

So  saying,  he  held  out  his  hand  to  Helen,  and  together 
they  left  the  stately  dwelling,  with  its  costly  furniture  and 
appointments,  and  took  their  way  slowly  to  their  humble 
lodging,  with  its  bare  floor  and  hard  wooden  chairs,  con- 
trasting, in  its  plainness,  so  vividly  with  the  dwelling  they 
had  left.  There  was  another  difference.  The  one  was  dark 
and  gloomy  in  spite  of  its  luxury.  Here  the  warm  and 
cheerful  sunshine  entered  in  at  the  open  window,  and  flung 
its  radiance  all  over  the  room. 

Helen  breathed  a  sigh  of  relief  as  she  entered. 

'*  Oh,  how  much  pleasanter  it  is  here,"  she  said,  "  than  in 
that  great  gloomy  house !  " 

And  she  began  preparing  supper  with  unwonted  lightness 
of  heart,  as  if  a  sudden  weight  had  been  removed  from  her 
spirit. 

"I  am  well  rid  of  him,"  muttered  Lewis,  as  his  cousin 
left  the  room.  "  He  really  has  more  spirit  than  I  suspected. 
As  for  that  Sharp,  he  has  served  me  a  scurvy  trick,  but  he 
has  overshot  his  mark  this  time.  I  can  fancy  his  disappoint- 
ment when  he  discovers  that  Robert  is  still  a  beggar." 

Lewis  laughed  sardonically,  and  gave  himself  up  to  the 
intoxicating  dream  of  power  which  his  wealth  would  give 
him. 


CHAPTER  XXXn. 

maegabet'i  second  flight. 

Mabgaeet  lay  sick  for  many  weeks  in  her  mother's  cot- 
tage, where,  it  will  be  remembered,  she  took  refiige  when, 
maddened  by  the  discovery  of  Jacob's  falsehood,  she  fled 
from  him,  heedless  of  the  fury  of  the  elements.  Physical 
exhaustion  and  mental  excitement  brought  on  a  raging  fever, 
attended  by  almost  constant  delirium.  Her  mother  watched 
by  her  bedside  with  an  affection  that  never  tired.  For  a 
time  it  was  doubtful  what  would  be  the  issue.  Margaret's 
life  trembled  in  the  balance,  and  it  required  but  little  to 
incline  it  either  way.  Fortunately  for  Margaret,  however, 
her  constitution  was  naturally  a  strong  one,  and  its  native 
vigor  triumphed  at  length  over  the  assaults  of  disease, 
fierce  though  they  had  been.  The  fever  spent  its  force,  and 
she  became  rapidly  better,  thought  at  first  scarcely  stronger 
than  an  infant. 

The  first  indication  of  her  amendment  was  her  recognition 
of  her  mother. 

The  old  lady  was  sitting  in  a  rocking-chair  beside  the  bed, 
when  Margaret  lifted  her  head  from  the  pillow,  and  said,  in 
a  tone  of  curiosity,  — 

*^  Who  are  you  ?  " 

"Who  am  I?"  inquired  her  mother.  "Don't  you  know 
me,  Margaret?" 

"  You  look  some  like  my  mother.    Are  you  ?  " 

"  Yes,  Margaret,  I  am  your  own  mother,  who  loves  you." 

908 


204  HELEN    FOBD. 

"  I  believe  you  are.  How  long  have  I  been  sick, 
mother  ?  " 

"  It  is  —  let  me  see,"  said  the  old  lady,  reflectively.  "  It 
must  be  six  weeks.    Yes,  it  will  be  six  to-morrow." 

"  And  for  six  weeks  I  have  been  confined  to  this  room  and 
this  bed?" 

"  Yes,  my  child." 

"Do  not  call  me  child,  mother.  All  the  beauty  and 
bloom  of  childhood,  all  its  happy  hopes  and  trustful  spirit, 
have  gone  forever.  There  are  some  who  are  children  all 
their  lives.  But  I  —  it  seems  a  great  while  since  I  was  a 
child." 

The  simple  old  lady  did  not  comprehend  her  daughter's 
meaning.     She  understood  her  words  literally. 

"  Why,  you  are  young  yet,  Margaret." 

"  Young !  don't  call  me  young,  mother.  I  am  older  than 
3'ou." 

"Older  than  I?"  said  the  old  lady,  who  fancied  Mar- 
garet's brain  a  little  disordered,  and  sought  to  restore  it  by 
reasoning ;  "but  you  know  a  child  cannot  be  older  than  its 
mother.     You  are  but  thirty-seven,  while  I  am  seventy." 

"I  don't  mean  older  in  years,  mother.  Older  in  suffering, 
older  in  the  experience  of  life.  It  isn't  years  that  make  us 
old,  mother,  but  our  own  passions." 

This  was  uttered  half  in  soliloquy. 

"  I  am  afraid  you  will  hurt  yourself  by  talking,  Mar- 
garet. You  had  better  go  to  sleep ;  or  would  you  like  some 
gruel?" 

"  No,  mother." 

There  was  silence  for  a  few  minutes.  During  this  time 
Margaret  was  scanning  attentively  the  little  room  and  its 
furniture.  Nothing  could  be  plainer,  and  yet  more  comfort- 
able. There  was  a  rag  carpet  on  the  floor,  and  a  few  plain 
articles  of  furniture  scattered  about  the  room ;  there  was  a 


mabqaret's  second  plight.  205 

small  clock  on  the  mantel,  whose  drowsy  ticking  could  be 
distinctly  heard,  so  free  was  the  neighborhood  from  noises 
of  every  description.  It  was  such  a  retreat  as  the  old  would 
like  for  its  quiet,  while  they  would  not  be  troubled  by  its 
monotony  and  lack  of  excitement.  But  Margaret  was  too 
impetuous  and  excitable  to  feel  it  otherwise  than  oppres- 
sive. 

"How  long  have  yOu  lived  here,  mother?"  she  asked 
abruptly,  after  a  silence  of  some  minutes. 

"  Seven  years,  Margaret ;  seven  years  come  fall." 

"  Seven  years  I  seven  years,  mother !  I  should  think  you 
would  have  died  of  solitude  long  ago.  You  haven't  any 
neighbors,  have  you?" 

"  None  very  near.  None  that  I  go  to  see.  I  do  not  care 
to  visit.  Tabby,  here,  is  company  for  me.  Ain't  you, 
Tabby?" 

The  large  cat,  that  was  lying  at  the  other  end  of  the 
room,  rose  at  this  appeal,  and  after  stretching  herself  in  a 
way  to  show  her  extraordinary  size,  walked  slowly  across 
the  room,  and  submitted  herself,  with  an  appearance  of 
pleasure,  to  the  old  lady's  caresses. 

"  See,  Margaret ;  she  answers  for  herself,"  as  the  cat,  in 
recognition  of  the  attention  shown  her,  purred  loudly. 

"  I  don't  know  but  you  are  right  in  choosing  such  a 
friend,"  said  Margaret,  after  a  thoughtful  pause.  "  She  will 
treat  you  well  as  long  as  you  do  not  abuse  her.  That  cannot 
be  said  of  all  human  friends.  Yet  I  should  not  be  able  to 
live  six  months  as  you  do,  mother.  My  temperament  needs 
excitement." 

"  I  fear  it  has  not  always  brought  you  good,  Margaret,** 
said  the  old  lady,  who  could  ill  comprehend  the  turbulent 
spirit  which  her  daughter  inherited  from  a  father  of  mixed 
French  and  Irish  blood. 

18 


206  HELEN    FORD. 

One  afternoon  a  week  later,  Margaret,  after  turning 
restlessly  for  some  minutes,  asked  her  mother  if  she  had  not 
A  newspaper  in  the  house. 

"  I  get  tired  looking  at  the  cat,"  she  exclaimed ;  *'  I  want 
something  else  to  think  of." 

"  I  don't  know,"  said  the  old  lady,  hesitatingly.  "  I  don't 
take  a  paper  ;  but  perhaps  I  can  find  one  that  came  round  a 
bundle,  if  that  will  do." 

"  Yes,  mother,  anything.     It  don't  matter  what." 

After  diligent  search,  the  old  lady  managed  to  discover 
part  of  a  last  week's  daily  paper  that  had  come  round  a 
package  which  she  had  recently  bought.  Apologizing  for 
the  unsatisfactory  result  of  her  search,  she  placed  it  in  Mar- 
garet's hand. 

In  general,  there  is  nothing  very  interesting  in  an  old 
daily  paper ;  but  Margaret,  who  had  been  shut  out  from  the 
world  for  nearly  two  months,  and  knew  nothing  of  what  had 
transpired  during  that  time,  seized  the  fragment  with  avid- 
ity, and  read  it  entire,  even  to  the  advertisements.  Finally 
her  glance  wandered  to  the  deaths ;  she  started  as  she  met 
the  name  of  Rand. 

Deed.  At  his  residence  in  Fifth  Avenue,  Gerald  Rand, 
Esq.,  71. 

"  He's  dead,  then,  at  last,"  she  murmured,  "  and  Jacob 
Wynne  has  got  the  thousand  dollars  which  were  promised 
him.  Let  him  enjoy  it  while  he  may.  It  will  not  be  long, 
unless,  — but  I  must  see  him  before  I  take  any  decisive  step. 
He  may  have  said  what  he  did  only  to  provoke  me.  Would 
to  heaven  it  were  so  I  Yes,  I  must  see  him ;  I  must  give  him 
one  more  chance,  and  then,  if  he  still  scorns  me,"  this  she 
said  with  fierce  emphasis,  "let  him  look  to  himself." 


MARGAEET'S   SECOND   TLIGHT.  207 

"  What  have  you  read  that  excites  you  so  much,  Mar« 
garet?"  questioned  her  mother,  anxiously. 

"  Nothing  particular." 

"  You  frightened  me  when  you  spoke  so  fiercely." 

"  Did  I  ?  "  said  Margaret.  *'  I  was  only  talking  to  myself, 
It's  a  way  I  have.  But,  mother,"  she  continued,  changing 
her  tone  suddenly,  "  do  you  think  I  shall  be  well  enough  to> 
go  out  to-morrow  ?  " 

"  To-morrow  I "  repeated  the  old  lady,  lifting  up  both 
hsmds  in  extreme  astonishment ;  "  why,  you  must  be  raving 
crazy  to  think  of  such  a  thing  I  What  in  the  world  do  you 
want  to  go  out  for?" 

"  Never  mind  now,"  said  her  daughter,  evasively.  "  I 
thought  I  should  like  to  go  out.  But  I  suppose  I  am 
weaker  than  I  think  for." 

"  Why,  the  fever  has  only  just  left  you.  It  would  be 
death  to  think  of  leaving  the  house." 

"  We  won't  say  anything  more  about  it,  mother.  Only  I 
get  tired  of  staying  in  the  same  place  so  long.  The  time 
moves  so  slowly.    What  time  is  it  ?  " 

"Three  o'clock." 

"  It  has  been  three  for  the  last  hour,"  said  Margaret,  with 
a  touch  of  impatience  in  her  tone. 

"  I  declare  the  clock  has  stopped,"  said  the  old  lady,  ad- 
Justing  her  spectacles ;  "  I  must  have  forgotten  to  wind  it 
up.    I  declare  it's  most  time  to  get  tea." 

She  filled  the  tea-kettle,  and  set  it  over  the  fire,  Margaret 
looking  on  with  languid  attention. 

Her  mother  thought  that  Margaret  had  given  up  the  idea 
of  leaving  the  house.  It  was  only  an  invalid's  fancy,  she 
thought.  But  Margaret  had  a  purpose  in  view,  and  only 
deferred  carrying  it  out  till  her  weakness  had  somewhat 
abated.  On  the  third  day,  though  still  far  from  strong,  she 
determined  to  leave  the  house.    Knowing  that  her  mother 


208  HELEN    FORD. 

would  never  consent,  she  devised  a  stratagem  to  get  her  out 
of  the  way. 

"  Is  there  an  orange  in  the  house  ?  "  she  asked,  immediate- 
ly after  breakfast. 

"No,  Margaret." 

"  I  am  sorry ;  I  think  I  could  relish  one." 

"  I  can  get  one  at  the  store." 

** But  that  is  a  good  ways  off.    Isn't  it,  mother? " 

"  Only  quarter  of  a  mile." 

"  It  is  too  far  for  you  to  go." 

"  Too  far?  I  go  there  several  times  a  week,  Margaret.** 

"  Then  if  it  will  not  be  too  much  trouble,  I  should  really 
like  to  have  you  go." 

"  I  will  go  immediately.  Isn't  there  anything  else  you 
would  like  ?  " 

"  Nothing,  mother." 

"  God  forgive  me  for  deceiving  her ! "  thought  Margaret. 
"  But  I  cannot  do  otherwise,  He  knows  that." 

Scarcely  was  her  mother  out  of  the  house  than  Margaret 
hastily  rose  from  the  bed,  and  with  trembling  fingers  arrayed 
herself  in  the  garments  which  had  been  so  long  laid  aside. 
They  had  been  carefully  washed  and  mended  by  her  mother, 
so  that  they  looked  comparatively  respectable.  She  threw 
them  on  very  hastily,  fearing  that  her  mother  would  return 
and  detect  her.  She  saw  half  a  dollar  on  the  mantel.  This 
also  she  took,  knowing  that  she  should  need  money,  and 
left  the  house. 

When  her  mother  returned  with  the  oraaige  she  foimd,  to 
her  dismay,  that  her  daughter  had  disappeared.  On  the 
table  there  was  a  scrap  of  paper,  with  these  words  traced 
hurriedly  upon  it :  — 

"  Forgive  the  artifice  I  have  employed,  dear  mother.  I 
knew  you  would  not  let  me  go,  and  I  must.     There  is 


maroarbt's  second  flight.  209 

something  of  great  importance  that  I  must  attend  to  without 
delay.    When  that  is  over,  I  may  come  back  to  you. 

"  Mabgabet. 

^'P.  S.    I  took  a  half  dollar  from  the  mantel,  as  I  may 
need  it." 


CHAPTER  XTOaTT. 

THE   GOOD   SAMAKITAN. 

SuBPRiSED  and  terrified  at  her  daughter's  disappearance, 
the  old  lady  went  to  the  door  and,  shading  her  eyes,  looked 
anxiously  up  the  road,  but  with  her  failing  eyesight  she 
was  unable  to  catch  sight  of  the  fugitive. 

"The  child  must  be  crazy,"  she  said  to  herself.  "  She'll 
catch  her  death  of  cold,  going  out  so  soon  after  the  fever. 
I  must  go  after  her  and  bring  her  back." 

Putting  on  her  hood  once  more,  the  old  lady  went  out,  and 
took  the  road  towards  the  city.  But  she  did  not  find  her 
daughter.  Returning  with  a  heavy  heart  and  a  sense  of 
deep  perplexity  she  sat  down  to  her  knitting,  first  carefully 
putting  away  the  orange,  which  she  thought  Margaret  mighx; 
like  to  eat  if,  as  she  hoped,  she  should  discover  her  weakness 
and  return  home  at  night. 

But  Margaret  did  not  come  that  night,  nor  yet  again  the 
next. 

When  she  left  her  mother's  house  she  hurried  forward  at  a 
greater  speed  than  her  strength  admitted,  so  great  was  her 
anxiety  to  elude  pursuit.  She  h^  not  gone  half  a  mile  when 
she  found  her  strength  faiUng  her.  Quite  exhausted,  she 
staggered  to  a  flat  stone  by  the  side  of  the  road,  and  sat 
down. 

"  Mother  was  right,"  she  said  to  herself;  "  I  am  not  strong 
enough  for  this  journey ;  but  I  must  get  on  somehow  now 
that  I  have  started." 

210 


THE    GOOD    SAMAKITAN.  211 

At  this  moment  her  eye  rested  on  the  half  dollar  which 
she  had  taken,  and  which  she  still  held  in  her  hand. 

"Perhaps  this  will  procure  me  a  ride,"  she  thought. 
"  What  matter  if  I  am  penniless  afterwards.  I  only  care  to 
live  long  enough  to  be  revenged." 

She  looked  back  on  the  road  she  had  travelled,  hoping  to 
see  some  wagon  which  might  serve  her  purpose. 

A  little  distance  oflf  was  a  covered  market  wagon,  advan- 
cing at  a  good  round  pace.  Che  driver  was  a  stout,  pleasant- 
looking  man,  and  Margaret,  hurriedly  scanning  his  features, 
judged  that  she  might  venture  to  accost  him. 

She  accordingly  rose  from  the  stone  on  which  she  had 
been  sitting,  and  made  a  gesture  for  him  to  stop. 

Somewhat  surprised,  he  called  out :  "  Hold  up,  Dick  ? 
Now,  ma'am,  what  can  I  do  for  you  ?  " 

"  "Would  you  be  willing  to  take  a  passenger  to  New  York?/' 

"  Yes,  ma* am,  just  as  lieves  as  not." 

"I  am  quite  willing  to  pay  you.  Will  that  be  enough?" 
asked  Margaret,  offering  the  half  dollar. 

"  Yes,  ma'am ;  enough,  and  fifty  cents  too  much.  Your 
company  will  be  pay  enough.  But,  hold  on  a  minute ;  I'll 
Jump  out  and  help  you  in." 

"  Thank  you ;  I  have  been  sick,  and  am  not  so  strong  as 
usual,  otherwise  I  would  not  trouble  you." 

"  No  trouble  at  all.  You  look  as  if  you'd  been  sick,  — 
kinder  peaked,  just  as  my  Sarah  Jane  looked  after  she'd  had 
the  fever.    Ain't  it  rather  imprudent  for  you  to  be  out  ?  " 

"  Perhaps  it  is ;  but  I  have  something  to  do  which  cannot 
be  delayed." 

The  driver  seemed  disposed  to  be  social  and  communica- 
tive. 

"  I'd  orter  be  pretty  well  used  to  this  road ;  I've  come  on 
it  twice  a  week  for  the  last  fifteen  years." 

"  Have  you? "  said  Margaret,  listlessly. 


212  HELEN    FORD. 

"  Yes,  marketing.  That's  my  business.  I've  got  a  regular 
ran  of  customers,  you  see,  and  they've  got  used  to  me,  and 
know  I'll  never  bring  anything  but  what's  good.  There's 
Judge  Harcouth  now ;  may  be  you  to  know  the  judge  ?  " 

"No." 

"  His  wife  won't  never  buy  no  sausages  except  what  I  bring. 
Well,  mine  are  pretty  good,  if  I  do  say  it.  I  get  old  Mann 
Brown  to  make  'em,  and  she'd  orter  know  how,  for  she's  been 
in  the  business  for  forty  years.     Do  you  like  sausages  ?  " 

"  I  don't  know,"  said  Margaret,  who  had  not  heard  a  word 
that  was  said. 

"  Don't  know,"  repeated  the  driver,  staring  at  her  in  sur- 
prise. 

"  Excuse  me ;  I  didn't  hear  what  you  said." 

"  I  asked  if  you  liked  sausages.  Some  folks  have  a  prej- 
udice agin  'em." 

"  Yes,  pretty  well." 

"  I  Uke  to  have  company,"  continued  the  driver ;  "  like  to 
have  somebody  to  talk  to.  TaUrin's  natural  to  the  fanuly. 
My  mother  had  a  pretty  long  tongue,  and  used  to  use  it  most 
aU  the  time,  so  that  none  of  the  rest  of  us  could  get  in  a 
word  edgeways." 

Apparently,  the  mother's  gift  had  descended  to  the  son,  for 
he  kept  up  a  constant  stream  of  talk,  which  was  fortunate  for 
Margaret,  for  he  expected  little  in  the  way  of  response,  and 
so  was  less  likely  to  notice  her  abstraction. 

"  Last  week  I  brought  my  oldest  boy,  Hamlet,  with  me. 
Queer  name,  isn't  ?  " 

"No." 

"  Why,  'taint  very  common,"  said  the  driver,  a  little  sur- 
prised at  this  negative. 

"  That  is  what  I  mean,"  said  Margaret,  hurriedly. 

"  I  s'pose  you  wonder  what  made  me  give  him  such  a  name« 


THB   GOOD   SAMABITAN.  213 

but  the  fact  is  my  own  name  is  pretty  common.  You  may 
have  heard  of  John  Smith?" 

"  I  think  I  have  heard  the  name,"  said  Margaret,  absently. 

Her  grave  manner  was  thought  to  conceal  something  jo- 
cose by  Mr.  Smith,  who  laughed  heartily,  ejaculating  "  Good, 
by  jingo ! "  somewhat  to  Margaret^s  surprise! 

"  That's  why,"  he  resumed,  "  I  thought  I'd  give  my  chil- 
dren at  least  one  name  that  wasn't  common,  so  I  concluded 
to  ask  the  schoolmaster  for  some.  He  told  me  I'd  find  what 
I  wanted  in  Shakespeare,  so  I  bought  a  copy  second  hand, 
and  the  very  fust  name  I  come  across  was  Hamlet.  So  I 
gave  that  name  to  my  oldest  boy.  My  second  boy's  name  is 
Othello  —  the  boys  call  him  Old  Fellow;  pretty  good  joke, 
isn't  it?  I  didn't  know  tiU  afterwards  that  it  was  the  name 
of  a  nigger,  or  I  shouldn't  have  taken  it.  However,  it 
sounds  pretty  well ;  think  so?  " 

"  Yes." 

"  Then  I've  got  two  girls,  I  call  them  Desdemony  and 
Parsley,  and  the  baby  we  haven't  decided  about,  but  I  reckon 
we  shall  call  him  Falstaff.  Falstaff  was  a  good-natured  old 
fellow  as  fiir  as  Fve  read  about  him.  But  I  don't  know  as 
you're  interested  about  these  matters." 

"  Oh,  yes,"  said  Margaret,  looking  straight  before  her  in 
the  direction  of  the  city,  whose  spires  were  now  discernible. 

"  Got  any  children  of  your  own,  ma'am?" 

«No." 

"  I  calculate  you're  married  ?  " 

"Yes  —  no,"  said  Margaret,  agitated,  for  the  question 
opened  her  wound  afresh. 

"  Queer  customer,  I  calc'late,"  thought  Mr.  Smith.  * '  Don't 
seem  to  know  whether  she's  married  or  not.  May  be  she's 
been  divorced." 

**  Excuse  me,"  said  Margaret,  feeling:  it  necessary  to  say 


S14  HELEN   FOBD. 

aomething.    "I  believe  I  am  not  strong  enough  to  talk 
much." 

"  Oh  well,  I'll  do  all  the  talMn*,'*  said  the  driver,  good- 
naturedly.  "You  don't  look  very  rugged,  that's  a  fact. 
Ever  tried  Dr.  Bangs's  Bitters?" 

"No." 

"  Well,  my  wife  thinks  a  sight  of  *em ;  says  they  go  right 
to  the  weak  spot.  Better  buy  some  when  you  get  a  good 
diance." 

So  Mr.  Smith  ran  on,  satisfied  with  an  occasional  response 
from  Margaret,  till  they  reached  the  paved  streets  where  the 
noise  was  too  great  to  admit  of  being  easily  heard. 

"Where  do  you  want  to  get  out?"  shouted  Mr.  Smith. 
**  m  pull  up  whenever  you  say  so." 

When  they  reached  the  central  part  of  the  city,  Margaret 
gave  the  signal,  and  Mr.  Smith  assisted  her  out. 

"  You  had  better  let  me  pay  you,"  she  said. 
,     "  No,  no,  you're  perfectly  welcome.     I  like  company.     It 
sort  of  shortens  the  way.    Just  hail  me  again  whenever 
you're  going  my  way,  and  I'll  give  you  a  lift  and  welcome." 

"  Thank  you  ;  you  are  very  kind." 

Margaret  mechanically  took  the  first  street  that  led  into 
Broadway.  She  felt  more  at  home  in  a  crowd,  and  scarcely 
knowing  where  she  was  going,  walked  slowly  along  the 
sidewalk,  jostled  on  this  side  and  on  that,  but  apparently 
without  heeding  it. 

At  length  her  attention  was  attracted. 

On  the  opposite  side  of  the  street  a  couple  were  walking 
slowly,  chatting  in  a  lively  way  as  they  walked.  The  lady 
was  gayly  dressed,  and  was  evidently  pleased  with  the  atten- 
tions of  her  companion.  He  is  an  old  acquaintance,  Jacob 
Wynne,  the  scrivener,  but  no  more  resembling  his  former 
self  than  a  butterfly  the  chrysalis  from  which  it  emerged. 


THE   GOOD    SAMAKITAK.  215 

Lewis  Rand  had  paid  him  the  thousand  dollars  agreed  upon, 
and  he  had  patronized  the  tailor  extensively  in  consequence. 
He  was  now  fashionably  attired,  and  had  the  air  of  one  on 
whom  fortune  smiles. 

It  was  only  by  chance  that  Margaret's  attention  was 
drawn  to  him. 

When  she  recognized  Mm,  all  at  once  her  heart  sank 
within  her.  In  her  enfeebled  state  the  shock  was  too  great. 
She  sank  upon  a  step  half  fainting. 

It  was  the  step  of  a  fashionable  store,  and  she  was  directly 
in  the  way  of  those  entering. 

"  Come,  be  off,"  said  a  clerk,  rudely ;  "  we  can't  have  any 
vagabonds  here." 

Margaret's  look  of  weakness  and  helpless  misery,  as  she 
tried  to  rise,  attracted  the  attention  of  a  young  girl  who  was 
passing.  It  was  Helen  Ford,  just  returning  from  rehearsal 
at  the  theatre. 

"  Are  you  sick?  "  she  asked,  in  a  tone  of  sympathy. 

"  I  am  afraid  I  am,"  said  Margaret,  faintly. 

"  Where  is  your  home  ?    Let  me  lead  you  to  it." 

"  My  home ! "  repeated  Margaret     "  I  have  none." 

"  No  home ! "  said  Helen,  in  a  tone  of  compassion.  "  Then 
where  do  you  expect  to  sleep  to-night  ?  " 

"  Heaven  only  knows." 

"  If  you  will  come  with  me,  I  will  take  care  of  you  to- 
night," said  Helen.     "  You  are  too  sick  to  be  out." 

"  Will  you,  indeed,  be  so  kind  ?  "  said  Margaret,  gratefully. 

"  I  shall  be  glad  to  help  you.  Now  lean  on  my  arm- 
Don't  be  afraid ;  I  am  strong." 

,  Margaret  rose,  and  with  tottering  step  accompanied  Helen 
to  the  boarding-house.  She  led  her  up  stairs  to  Martha 
Grey's  apartment. 

Quickly  communicating  to  Martha  where  and  under  what 
circumstances  she  had  found  her,  she  asked  the  seamstress 


216  HELEN   FORD. 

If  she  wonld  be  willing  to  allow  her  to  remain  with  her. 
Martha  readily  entered  into  Helen's  charitable  views,  and 
together  they  strove  to  make  their  unexpected  visitor  com- 
fortable. 

Helen  little  suspected  that  the  woman  whom  in  her  com- 
passion she  had  succored,  had  it  in  her  power  to  restore  to 
her  father  the  estate  of  which  he  had  been  defrauded.  Some- 
times even  in  this  world  the  good  Samaritan  receives  his 
lewardu 


CHAPTER   XXXTV. 

JACOB  SEALS  HIS  FATE. 

**  How  do  you  feel  this  moming  ?  "  asked  Helen,  as  she 
entered  Martha^s  room. 

Her  question  was  addressed  to  Margaret,  who,  wan  and 
pale,  was  seated  at  a  table  eating  some  toast,  which  the 
compassionate  seamstress  in  her  kindness  had  prepared  for 
her. 

"  I  am  much  better,"  said  Margaret,  though  her  appear- 
ance did  not  bear  out  the  assertion. 

"  It  will  take  some  time  yet  for  you  to  recover  fully ;  you 
need  rest  and  freedom  from  care." 

"  Freedom  from  care !  "  repeated  Margaret,  smiling  bit- 
terly.    "  Yes,  that  is  what  I  need,  but  where  shall  I  find  it  ?  ** 

"  With  us,"  answered  Martha,  gently. 

"  What !  "  exclaimed  Margaret,  fixing  her  eyes  upon  the 
seamstress  in  surprise,  "  would  you  be  burdened  with  me?  ** 

"  We  shall  not  consider  it  a  burden,"  said  Helen,  "  and  I 
am  sure  we  ought  to  welcome  an  opportunity  to  be  of  service 
to  any  one  of  our  feUow-creatures." 

"  Yet,"  said  Margaret,  sufiering  her  eyes  to  wander  about 
the  room,  with  its  plain  and  scanty  furniture,  "  you  cannot 
be  rich  —  even  one  person  must  — — " 

"  No,  we  are  far  from  rich,"  said  Helen,  divining  what  she 

would  have  said,  "but  neither  are  we  very  poor.    I  am  paid 

quite  a  large  salary  for  singing,  and  —  and  you  must  not 

think  of  the  expense." 

»  to 


218  HELEN    FORD. 

"  But  I  am  a  stranger  to  you,**  said  Margaret ;  "  why  are 
you  so  kind  to  me  ?  " 

"  Because  you  are  in  trouble/' 

"  Perhaps  I  may  make  an  ungrateful  return.  Suppose  I 
stould  take  the  opportunity  to  rob  you  ?  " 

Helen  laughed  merrily. 

"We  are  not  afraid,"  she  said;  "besides,  I  think  yon 
would  be  puzzled  to  find  anything  worth  taking." 

Margaret  smiled  faintly. 

"  I  see  you  are  not  suspicious  ;  I  envy  you  that.  There 
was  a  time  when  I  was  as  trustful,  and  as  firm  a  believer  in 
human  goodness  as  you  are.  But  that  time  has  passed, 
never  to  return." 

"  I  am  afraid,"  said  Martha,  "  that  your  experience  has 
not  been  an  agreeable  one." 

*'  I  have  seen  trouble,"  said  Margaret,  briefly. 

"  There  may  be  better  times  in  store  ;  I  shall  know  soon." 

"  Let  us  hope  there  will  be,"  said  Martha,  cheerfully. 

"  Amen ! "  said  Margaret. 

"I  must  go  to  rehearsal  now,"  said  Helen.  "When  I 
return,  I  will  call  in." 

"  What  is  her  name  ?  "  questioned  Margaret,  abruptly,  as 
the  door  closed  upon  Helen. 

"  Helen." 

"  I  mean  the  last  name." 

"  Her  father  goes  by  the  name  of  Ford,  but  Helen  has  told 
me  within  a  day  or  two  that  his  real  name  is  Rand." 

"  Rand ! "  repeated  Margaret,  starting  in  surprise. 

"  Yes." 

She  remembered  that  this  was  the  name  which  had  been 
80  many  times  repeated  on  the  paper  which  her  husband  had 
«nployed  in  trying  his  pen. 

"  Do  you  know  anything  of  the  name  I "  asked  Martha, 
observing  that  her  companion  seemed  struck  by  it."  ' 


JACOB  SEALS  HIS  FATE.  219 

**  I  have  heard  of  a  man  by  the  name  —  a  rich  man." 

"  Probably  Helen's  grandfather." 

"  How  comes  it,  then,  that  she  is  living  here." 

"  Some  family  estrangement.  Her  grandfather  supposed 
until  nearly  the  last  moment  of  his  life  that  his  son  was  dead. 
It  was  too  late  to  alter  his  will,  and  so  Helen  and  her  father 
are  left  penniless." 

"  And  who  inherited  the  property  then?"  demanded  Mar- 
garet, eagerly. 

"A  cousin  of  Mr.  Ford's  —  I  mean  of  Mr.  Rand's." 

"And  I  know  by  what  means  he  acquired  it,"  thought 
Margaret.     "  It  may  be  that  —  but  I  must  see  Jacob  first." 

"  From  this  moment  Margaret  became  restless.  She  felt 
that  she  could  not  be  at  peace  till  the  issue  was  decided.  She 
determined  once  more  to  appeal  to  Jacob,  and  ascertain 
beyond  a  doubt  whether  the  statement  which  he  had  made 
respecting  their  marriage  was  really  true,  or  only  fabricated 
to  vex  her.  This  question  must  first  be  decided,  and  then 
—  why  then  she  would  be  guided  by  circumstances." 

"  She  rose  from  her  seat,  and  threw  her  shawl  over  her 
shoulders." 

"  Where  are  you  going  ? "  asked  Martha,  pausing  in  her 
work. 

"I  must  go.  I  have  something  to  do  which  cannot  be 
delayed." 

" But  are  you  able  to  go  out?"  questioned  the  seamstress, 

"  Perhaps  not ;  but  it  would  do  me  more  harm  to  remain 
here,  feeling  that  I  ought  to  be  elsewhere,  that  things  might 
go  wrong  without  me,  than  the  exposure  and  exertion  of 
going  out." 

"  You  will  come  back  here  when  you  have  accomplished 
what  you  desire  ?  " 

'*  I  think  80  —  1  cannot  tell  —  I  will  not  promise,"  return- 
ed Margaret,  with  an  air  of  indecision ;  "  but  at  any  rate. 


220  HELEN    FORD. 

whether  I  come  or  not,  I  thank  you  heartily  for  all  youi 
kindness  to  me,  and  for  all  that  you  have  offered  to  do  for 
me.  I  am  not  so  used  to  kindness  that  I  can  afford  to  think 
little  of  it." 

"  I  am  afraid  it  will  be  too  much  for  her,"  thought  Martha, 
as  Margaret  left  the  room  with  an  unsteady  step.  "There 
is  plainly  some  mysterious  sorrow  which  is  preying  upon  her 
mind.  If  I  could  find  out  what  it  is,  I  would  try  to  comfort 
her." 

Margaret,  on  reaching  the  street  got  into  an  omnibus 
which  set  her  down  at  the  comer  of  the  street  on  which 
Jacob  Wynne  lived. 

We  will  precede  her. 

The  scrivener  is  seated  at  a  small  table.  Before  him  are 
several  small  piles  of  gold  which  he  is  counting  out  from  a 
larger  one  before  him.  It  is  the  money  which  Lewis  Rand 
paid  him  for  his  complicity  in  the  iniquitous  scheme,  the 
success  of  which  has  robbed  Helen  and  her  father  of  a 
princely  inheritance. 

Jacob's  eyes  sparkled  as  they  rested  on  the  glittering  coins 
before  him,  and  in  his  heart,  as  in  that  of  his  employer  on 
the  day  of  his  uncle's  death,  there  springs  up  the  exulting 
thought :  "  And  all  this  is  mine." 

But  while  he  is  thus  engaged,  there  is  a  footfall  on  the 
stairs,  the  step  of  one  ascending  slowly  and  with  effort,  but 
Jacob  is  too  much  absorbed  in  his  pleasing  employment  to 
heed  or  hear  it. 

A  moment  afterwards,  and  through  the  half-open  door  a 
woman's  face  is  seen  peering.  Margaret's  face  is  thin  and 
pale,  the  result  of  her  recent  exhausting  illness,  and  there  is 
a  look  of  weariness  besides,  induced  by  the  too  great  exer- 
tion of  walking  in  her  weakened  state ;  but  her  eyes  are 
painfully  bright,  and  her  expression  pale,  thin,  and  weary 
as  she  is,  is  one  of  stem  determination. 


JACOB  SEALS  HIS  FATE.  221 

"Seven  hundred!"  said  Jacob,  as  he  completed  the 
seventh  pile,  and  commenced  another,  unconscious  of  the 
eyes  that  were  fixed  upon  him. 

Margaret  paused  a  moment  on  the  threshold.  She  saw 
before  her  a  man  who,  low  and  mean  and  ignoble  as  he  was, 
had  won  her  heart  in  the  days  of  her  youthful  freshness,  and 
now  in  spite  of  the  resentment  which  she  felt  at  his  unworthy 
treatment,  she  could  not  look  upon  him  without  a  pang,  — 
without  a  longing  to  become  to  him  once  more  what  she  had 
been. 

"  Jacob  1 "  she  uttered  in  an  uncertain  voice. 

Jacob  Wynne  turned  round  with  a  guilty  start  as  though 
he  had  been  detected  in  some  knavery,  and  half  uncon- 
sciously drew  his  sleeve  over  the  pile  of  gold,  as  if  to  screen 
it  from  observation.  When  he  saw  who  it  was  that  had  so 
startled  him,  a  frown  gathered .  upon  his  face,  and  he  said, 
impatiently,  — 

"  You  here,  Margaret?  " 

"  You  seem  glad  to  see  me  after  my  long  absence !  "  she 
said.  "  By  your  leave  I  will  take  a  seat,  as  I  am  somewhat 
tired." 

He  looked  uneasily  at  her,  not  feeling  altogether  certain 
of  her  purpose  in  calling,  and  muttered,  half  to  himself,  "  I 
wish  you  had  waited  till  next  week."     . 

"Why  should  you  wish  that?"  she  asked,  catching  his 
words. 

"  Because  I  shall  then  be  gone,"  he  said,  coldly. 

"Gone  I    Where?" 

"Never  mind  I  Why  should  you  want  to  know?"  he 
demanded,  sulkily. 

"Why,  indeed?"  echoed  she,  fixing  her  eyes  upon  Ma 
face ;  "  what  should  your  motives  be  to  me,  who  have  only 
devoted  ten  years  of  my  life  to  your  service?  What  should 
you  be  to  me,  Jacob  Wynne?  ** 


222  HELEN    FORD. 

"  Well,"  he  said.  "  I  wOl  no  longer  require  such  a  sao« 
rifice  at  your  hands.  Ten  years  are  quite  enough  to  satisfy 
me.  Henceforth  you  shall  be  at  perfect  liberty  to  devote 
yourself  to  whom  you  will.  I  will  promise  not  to  inter-* 
fere." 

Margaret  pressed  her  hand  upon  her  heart  as  if  to  still  its 
tumultuous  throbbing,  at  this  cruel  taunt  from  one  whom 
she  had  so  much  loved,  and  for  whom,  despite  the  discovery 
she  had  made  of  his  baseness  and  unworthiness,  she  could 
not  altogether  stifle  the  old  affection. 

"  You  say  this  because  you  are  irritated,  Jacob,"  she 
returned.  "  You  do  not,  you  cannot  mean  it.  Tell  me  so. 
Tell  me  that  you  have  been  only  trying  me  all  this  time, 
and  though  it  has  made  me  very,  very  wretched,  although 
it  has  thrown  me  into  a  fever  and  rendered  me  as  weak  as 
you  now  see  me,  I  will  forget  it  all,  and  will  once  more  de- 
vote myself  to  you  with  the  same  loving  devotion  as  in  the 
old  times  when  we  were  young,  and  —  and  happier  than  we 
are  now,  Jacob." 

In  her  earnestness  she  rose,  and  going  towards  the  copy- 
ist, placed  her  hand  upon  his  arm. 

"  One  often  says  in  anger  what  he  does  not  mean,"  she 
continued,  rapidly.  "  I  know  that  well.  I  have  done  so 
myself;  and  it  is  so  with  you,  Jacob,  is  it  not?  I  knew  it 
must  be  so  when  you  spoke  such  cruel  words  to  me  at  the 
island  so  many  weeks  ago,  and  yet,  Jacob,  and  yet  it  hurt 
me,"  she  placed  her  hand  upon  her  heart ;  "  it  hurt  me  here, 
when  you  said  such  words  even  in  jest.  I  was  not  strong 
enough  to  bear  them,  and  they  made  me  sick.  That  very 
night  I  was  attacked  with  a  fever,  and  from  that  day 
to  this  I  have  been  stretched  upon  a  sick-bed.  Look 
at  my  face.  See  how  thin  and  pale  it  is.  I  ought  not  to 
be  out  to-day,  and  only  succeeded  by  an  artifice  in  eliid- 


JACOB  SEALS  HIS  FATS.  22S 

ing  the  vigilance  of  my  mother,  who  has  been  my  faithM 
nurse." 

"  Why,  then,  did  you  come?"  asked  Jacob,  coldly. 

"  Because  I  could  not  bear  the  intolerable  weight  of  sus- 
pense. Those  words  kept  ringing  in  my  ears,  and  I  could 
not  cease  from  anxiety  until  I  could  see  you  and  have  them 
explained." 

Margaret  looked  imploringly  in  the  face  of  the  scrivener, 
as  she  finished  her  appeal.  She  had  spoken  more  confidently 
than  she  felt.  There  was  little  in  the  sullen,  cruel  face 
before  her  to  give  her  encouragement.  She  felt  that  she  had 
staked  all  her  happiness  upon  a  single  throw,  —  that  the 
answer  which  he  gave  her  then  and  there  would  determine 
once  and  forever  her  ftiture  happiness  or  misery,  and  it  might 
be  his. 

Jacob  regarded  the  anxious  face  before  him  with  the  tri- 
umph that  a  low  mind  always  feels  when  it  has  by  any  means 
gained  an  ascendency  over  a  stronger  one.  The  nature  of 
Margaret  was  superior  to  his,  and  he  knew  it.  It  was  the 
uneasy  feeling  of  inferiority  produced  by  this  circumstance, 
that  led  to  a  mean  jealousy  on  his  part  which  found  its 
gratification  m  any  humiliation  to  which  it  was  in  his  power 
to  subject  her. 

"  I  do  not  understand,"  he  said,  deliberately,  "  why  my 
words  should  stand  in  need  of  explanation.  I  endeavored 
to  make  them  suflQciently  intelligible." 

"  You  do  not  remember  what  you  said,  Jacob.  I  am  sure 
that  you  cannot,  or  you  would  not  speak  thus,"  she  said, 
earnestly. 

"  Perhaps  your  memory  is  better,"  said  the  scrivener, 
sneeringly.  "  Possibly  you  will  do  me  the  favor  to  repeat 
it." 

J'Eepeatitf 


224  HELEN    FOED. 

"  Yes,  I  said  so/*  triumpliing  as  he  spoke  over  her  evident 
distress ;  "  come,  I  am  listening." 

He  drew  his  chair  round  so  as  to  face  Margaret,  and  fised 
his  eyes  cruelly  upon  her.  Margaret  was  a  creature  of 
impulse.  Her's  was  no  calm,  equable  temperament.  Her 
features  could  express  trustful,  confiding  affection,  or  the 
intensity  of  scorn  and  hatred.  She  iiad  come  to  make  a  last 
appeal  to  Jacob  Wynne.  He  did  not  deserve  it,  but  it  is 
hard  for  a  woman  to  resolve  to  injure  a  man  who  has  been  to 
her  an  object  of  affection.  Jacob  had  often  treated  her  with 
harshness.  This  she  could  bear,  but  the  revelation  of  his 
perfidy,  which  she  had  heard  from  his  own  lips  at  Staten 
Island,  came  upon  her  with  the  force  of  a  sudden  blow,  which 
at  once  prostrated^her.  This  was  an  insult  which  she  could 
not  forgive,  if  his  words  were  indeed  true.  In  the  hope, 
slight  as  it  was,  that  it  might  prove  to  have  been  merely  an 
outburst  of  Jacob's  irritability,  she  had  determined  upon 
this  interview  that  her  doubts  might  be  set  at  rest.  Had 
Jacob  known  the  purpose  which  was  in  her  heart,  and  the 
precise  character  of  the  motive  which  had  brought  her  to 
him,  he  would  have  been  more  cautious  in  exasperating  a 
woman  who  had  his  ruin  in  her  power.  This,  however,  he 
did  not  know.  He  underrated  Margaret's  strength  of  mind ; 
he  regarded  her  as  one  whom  he  might  ill-treat  with  impu- 
nity, who  might  annoy  him,  to  be  sure,  but  was  incapable  of 
doing  him  any  serious  injury ;  whom  he  could  shake  off-  at 
any  time,  as  he  had  resolved  to  do  now. 

.  When  Margaret  saw  the  triumphant  smile  upon  his  face, 
she  felt  that  her  worst  fears  were  likely  to  be  realized. 
StiL  she  resolved  not  to  forego  her  purpose.  Dropping  the 
pleading  tone  which  she  had  hitherto  employed,  she  said, 
with  an  outward  calmness  which  surprised  Jacob,  and  which 
she  only  assumed  by  a  determined  effort,  — 

"  Be  it  so.    Since  you  desire  it,  I  will  force  myself  to 


JACOB  SEALS  HIS  FATE.  225 

repeat  those  words.  You  remember,  Jacob,  the  occasion  of 
my  presenting  myself  before  you.  Without  my  knowledge 
you  had  invited  a  young  woman  to  accompany  you  to  Staten 
Island." 

"And  did  you  think  I  was  responsible  to  you?  Would 
you  have  had  me  ask  your  gracious  permission?"  asked 
Jacob,  with  a  sneer. 

"You  can  tell  best,"  said  Margaret,  steadily,  "whether 
this  excursion  was  made  accidentally  or  purposely,  without 
my  knowledge ;  if  the  latter,  it  betrayed  a  consciousness  on 
your  part  that  I  had  a  right  to  object." 

"But  I  told  you -" 

"Wait,"  said  Margaret,  commandingly,  "  I  will  come  to 
that  by  and  by.  I  learned  your  plan,  it  matters  not  in  what 
manner,  and  followed  you;  I  marked  your  devoted  atten- 
tions to  your  companion,  and  it  deepened  in  me  the  sense  of 
wrong  and  neglect  which  I  had  noticed  for  a  long  time.  You 
believed  me  safe  at  home  all  this  time." 

"  I  wish  to  heaven  you  had  been,"  muttered  Jacob. 

Unheeding  the  interruption,  Mai'garet  continued,  — 

"  You  will  not  be  surprised  that  this  should  have  excited 
some  uneasiness  on  my  part.  I  followed  you  constantly, 
watching  for  an  opportunity  to  speak  to  you  alone.  At 
length  you  left  your  companion  for  a  brief  period,  and  then 
I  found  the  opportunity  I  had  been  seeking.  I  ventured  to 
expostulate  with  you  on  conduct  which  I  considered  incon- 
sistent with  your  duty  as  a  husband.  Then  it  was,  Jacob, 
that  in  your  anger,  you  told  me  that  I,  who  had  lived  Tfith 
you  for  ten  years  as  your  wife,  and  had  never  for  a  moment 
forfeited  or  doubted  my  full  claim  to  the  title,  that  I  was 
mistaken ;  that  at  the  altar  an  infamous  deception  had  been 
practised  upon  me,  and  the  oflSce  of  the  clergyman  was 
usurped  by  one  of  your  own  unprincipled  associates,  who 


226  HELEN    FORD. 

had  no  legal  right  to  perform  the  marriage  ceremony.  Have 
I  represented  all  this  correctly  ?  " 

"You  have  a  most  accurate  memory,"  said  Jacoh.  "I 
have  no  exceptions  to  take  to  your  account,  except  on  the 
score  of  its  length,  and  the  use  of  certain  adjectives." 

"  Then  I  am  to  understand  that  this  was  no  fabrication 
on  your  part,  Jacob  Wynne,  but  the  plain  truth?  " 

"  Most  unquestionably." 

"You  further  gave  me  to  understand,"  continued  Maa*- 
garet,  in  the  same  strangely  calm  tone,  "and  to-day  you 
have  repeated  the  intimation,  that  my  company  is  unwel- 
come ;  in  short,  that  you  are  weary  of  my  society,  and  wish 
to  be  rid  of  me." 

"  You  would  have  made  a  capital  judge,  madam,"  said 
Jacob ;  "  you  are  admirable  at  summing  up.  You  express 
my  meaning  better  than  I  could  do  it  myself.  I  congratu- 
late you  the  possession  of  such  a  talent.  It  will  save  me 
further  trouble.    Have  you  anything  more  to  say  ?  " 

Jacob  expected  that  Margaret  would  burst  into  a  passion 
of  tears  and  reproaches,  as  she  had  done  before,  and  he  was 
already  gloating  over  her  distress  in  anticipation.  Already 
with  cowardly  malignity,  he  was  coining  in  his  brain  some 
new  and  clever  taunts  with  which  he  might  add  to  her  dis- 
tress, and  touch  her  to  the  quick.  It  was,  therefore,  with 
some  degree  of  disappointment  as  well  as  surprise,  that  he 
was  able  to  detect  no  change  in  her  calm  expression. 

"  Very  well,"  she  said,  "  I  wished  this  matter  understood 
between  us." 

Then,  seeming  to  notice  for  the  first  time  the  gold  upon 
the  table,  she  added,  indicating  it  with  her  finger,  "  Your 
affairs  appear  to  be  in  a  more  flourishing  condition  than  when 
i  saw  you  last." 

"  Eh  I  What?"  Bald  Jacob,  changing  color  and  looking 
^[nbarrassed. 


JACOB  SEALS  HIS  FATE. 

**  You  are  richer  than  you  were,"  said  Margaret,  in  the 
game  tone.  "  It  must  have  been  an  important  service 
which  has  been  so  liberally  rewarded." 

"  What  do  you  mean  ?  "  demanded  Jacob,  with  the  appre-  v 
hension  of  guilt,  regarding  her  uneasily. 

**  Mean !  "  repeated  Margaret,  as  if  surprised  at  the  ques- 
tion,  "what  should  I  mean?  I  merely  expressed  my  sur- 
prise at  your  having  so  large  a  sum  by  you.  I  should  judge," 
she  continued,  carelessly,  "  that  there  might  be  a  thousand 
dollars  there." 

Jacobus  agitation  increased  with  every  word  that  Margaret 
uttered.  Conscious  that  he  had  committed  a  crime  which 
made  him  liable  to  severe  legal  penalties,  the  significant 
words  of  the  woman  he  had  wronged  excited  in  his  mind  a 
fear  that,  in  some  manner  unknown  to  him,  she  had  become 
cognizant  of  it. 

So  does  "  Conscience  make  cowards  of  us  all." 

How  much  more  so  in  the  case  of  the  scrivener,  who  was 
cowardly  at  the  best. 

"  I  must  insist  upon  knowing  what  you  mean  by  these 
insinuations,"  he  said,  with  ill-concealed  anxiety. 

"Insinuations,  Jacob  Wynne!  What  have  I  insinu- 
ated?" 

"Why,  then,  do  you  speak  in  this  manner?"  said  he, 
hesitatingly ;  "  this  money  —  belongs  to  a  friend." 

"  Indeed ! "  said  Margaret,  looking  at  him  steadily ;  "  and 
I  suppose  you  merely  offered  to  count  it  over  for  him." 

"Well,  and  if  I  did,"  said  the  scrivener,  plucking  up  a 
little  courage  ;  "  have  you  any  objections  to  offer?  " 

"  II  What  objection  could  I  possibly  have?  You  know 
I  have  no  longer  a  right  to  object  to  anything  which  you 
may  see  fit  to  do.  By  the  way,  you  spoke  of  removing. 
When  do  you  go  ?  " 

This  cool  self-possession  and  absence  of  emotion  on  Maiv 


228  HELEN    FORD. 

garet's  part  puzzled  Jacob,  and  alarmed  him  more  than 
threats  of  vengeance  would  have  done.  He  found  itimpos- 
sible  to  understand  her. 

"  I  don't  know,"  he  said,  evasively,  "  I  can't  tell.  Why 
do  you  ask  ?  " 

"  Because,**  she  answered,  with  a  meaning  look,  "  I  may 
wish  to  call  upon  you  again.  There  is  nothing  strange  in 
my  desiring  occasionally  to  call  upon  an  old  acquaintance ; 
is  there,  Jacob  ?  *' 

He  muttered  something  which  was  inaudible. 

**  But  I  fear  I  am  taking  up  too  much  of  your  time.  You 
know  I  have  no  further  claim  upon  you.  Farewell,  Jacob,  I 
shall  not  lose  sight  of  you.** 

"  Stay,**  said  Jacob,  who  had  been  considerably  alarmed, 
and  who  was  stiH  apprehensive  that  she  might  know  more 
than  he  desired,  "  have  you  any  money?** 

"  Yes,**  said  Margaret,  "  I  have  this.** 

She  displayed  the  half  dollar,  or  rather  what  remained  of 
It,  after  discharging  her  fare  in  the  omnibus. 

"  That  is  very  little.    Take  this.** 

He  took  a  gold  piece  from  the  pile  that  lay  on  the  table, 
and  handed  it  to  her.    "  Come,  let  us  part  friends.'* 

"  You  forget,  Jacob,  that  this  gold  is  not  yours.  It  be- 
longs to  a  friend.** 

"  Never  mind,"  he  muttered,  "  I  can  replace  it." 

"  No,**  said  she,  decidedly,  "  I  will  not  take  it.  I  have 
no  claim  upon  you.*' 

She  rose  and  passed  out  of  the  room,  Jacob  looking  after 
her  with  an  air  of  mingled  doubt,  apprehension,  and  per- 
plexity. 

"  I  wish  I  knew,**  he  said  to  himself,  "  whether  she  has 
discovered  anything.  But  it  can*t  be  possible.  She  appears 
strangely  enough.  Perhaps  her  mind  is  unhinged  by  what 
I  have  told  her.    But  I  never  could  have  got  on  with  her 


JACOB  SEALS  HIS  FATE.  229 

weighing  me  down.    "We  must  not  meet  again  if  it  can  be 
avoided." 

Jacob  resolved  to  remove  on  the  very  next  day  to  the 
more  comfortable  room,  which  he  considered  suited  to  the 
iiiq>rovement  in  his  circmastances. 
20 


CHAPTER  XXXV. 

THE  DENUNCIATION. 

If  Margaret  had  been  calm  in  her  interview  with  Jacob 
Wynne,  it  was  an  unnatural  calmness.  Beneath  the  surface 
there  were  eddies  of  passionate  emotion  which  must,  sooner 
or  later,  force  their  way  to  the  light. 

A  sudden  revulsion  of  feeling  swept  over  her  when,  re- 
lieved from  the  restraint  which  she  had  put  upon  herself  in 
Jacob's  presence,  she  found  herself  standing  alone  on  the 
sidewalk  beneath.  Her  strength,  which  had  been  only  kept 
up  thus  far  by  excitement,  now  gave  way  utterly,  and  she 
leaned,  faint  and  exhausted,  against  the  side  of  the  build- 
ing. Even  that  proved  an  insufficient  support.  Her  limbs 
tottered,  and  she  fell  upon  the  pavement. 

When  consciousness  returned,  she  found  herself  sur- 
rounded by  a  crowd  of  persons,  most  of  whom  had  been 
attracted  by  curiosity,  ajid  only  one  or  two  of  whom  proved 
Gt  real  service. 

"Are  you  feeling  better?"  inquired  a  motherly-looMng 
woman,  gazing  compassionately  at  the  wan  and  wasted  fear 
tores  of  Margaret. 

"  Where  am  I?  "  asked  Margaret,  looking  half  bewildered 
at  the  questioner. 

"  You  have  fainted  on  the  sidewalk.  I  am  afraid  you  are 
aot  strong." 

"  No.  I  have  been  sick.  But  I  remember  now.  I  should 
like  to  see  a  lawyer." 

Even  in  her  weakness  and  physical  prostration,  she  had 

230 


THE  DENUNCIATION.  231 

not  lost  sight  of  what  must  henceforth  be  her  object  — 
revenge  upon  him  whose  perfidy  and  utter  heartlessness 
she  had  now  so  fully  proved. 

"  You  mean  a  doctor,"  said  the  woman,  a  little  surprised. 

"  No,"  repeated  Margaret,  with  a  touch  of  impatience  in 
her  voice.     "  I  want  a  lawyer." 

At  this  moment,  a  man  in  a  white  hat  and  with  a  very 
bland  expression  upon  his  features,  which,  however,  could 
not  boast  a  remarkable  degree  of  beauty,  elbowed  his  way 
vigorously  through  the  crowd.  With  a  graceful  inclination, 
Mr.  Sharp,  whom  the  reader  will  already  have  recognized 
from  the  description  given,  proclaimed  that  he  was  an 
humble  attorney  at  her  service. 

"If  you  are  a  lawyer,  I  wish  to  consult  you,  but  not 
before  so  many  people,"  said  Margaret,  glancing  at  the 
curious  faces  of  the  bystanders. 

"I  will  procure  a  carriage,  madam,"- said  Mr.  Sharp,  with 
his  usual  affability,  "  and  we  will  proceed  at  once  to  my 
office,  where  we  shall  run  no  risk  of  being  disturbed." 

This  course  was  accordingly  taken,  somewhat  to  the  dis- 
appointment of  certain  good  people,  who  were  burning  for  a 
solution  of  the  mystery  which  they  were  convinced  existed 
somewhere. 

In  a  few  minutes  Margaret  was  installed  in  IVIr.  Sharp's 
office,  and  that  gentleman,  with  professional  zeal  and  a 
lively  hope  that  the  lady  before  him  might  prove  a  more 
profitable  client  than  the  state  of  her  attire  seemed  to  prom- 
ise, waited  patiently  for  his  visitor  to  announce  her  business. 

Margaret  seemed  to  be  lost  in  reflection,  as  if  her  mind 
were  not  wholly  made  up  about  some  matter.  Fearing  that 
she  might  not  broach  the  subject  at  all,  and  that  he  might 
thus  lose  the  chance  of  the  client  which  fate  seemed  to  have 
thrown  in  his  way  just  as  he  had  lost  Lewis  Rand,  Llr.  Sharp 
thought  it  best  to  give  her  a  gentle  hint. 


232  HELEN  FORD. 

"As  a  lawyer,  madam,  I  shall  be  glad  to  exert  myself  in 
your  behalf  to  the  best  of  my  professional  ability.  Will 
you  have  the  kindness,  as  soon  as  your  strength  is  suffi- 
piently  restored,  to  state  your  case  ?  " 

Margaret  aroused  from  her  stupor.  "  Can  you  tell  me," 
she  asked,  abruptly,  "  what  punishment  the  law  provides  for 
forgery?" 

The  lawyer  was  taken  by  surprise.  He  wondered  if  his 
Tisitor  had  committed,  or  perchance  was  contemplating  such 
a  crime,  and  wished  to  learn  how  great  a  risk  it  involved. 

"Forgery  did  I  understand  you  to  say,  madam?"  he  in- 
quired, partly  with  a  view  to  gain  time. 

"Yes." 

"  Imprisonment  for  a  term  of  years."      ^    ^ 

"  You  are  sure  it  is  not  punished  with  death,"  she  asked, 
eagerly. 

"  Not  in  this  country.  There  was  a  time  when  it  was  so 
punished  in  England." 

"  How  long  is  the  usual  term  of  imprisonment  ?  " 

"  That  depends,  in  some  measure,  upon  the  discretion  of 
the  court,  which  is  regulated  by  attendant  circumstances. 
Possibly,"  said  the  lawyer,  hazarding  a  conjecture,  as 
Margaret  remained  silent,  "you  have  a  friend,  a  relation 
perhaps  (pardon  me  if  I  am  wrong),  who  has  been  unfor- 
tunate," —  a  delicate  way  of  hinting  at  crime,  — "  and  in 
whose  behalf  you  have  now  come  to  consult  me  ?  " 

"  A  friend !  "  repeated  Margaret,  mth  a  bitter  smile. 

"I  thought  it  possible,"  said  Mr.  Sharp,  mistaking  her 
tone  for  one  of  assent.  "  Well,  madam,  you  must  not  allow 
yourself  to  be  too  much  cast  down.  I  can  easily  conceive 
that  your  anxiety  is  aroused  in  your  friend's  behalf,  but  if 
one  has  ingenuity  there  are  always  aiethods  of  evading  the 
law,  and  if  you  will  confide  the  case  to  me,  I  hope  to  suc- 
ceed in  clearing  your  friend." 


THE   DENUNCIATION  >  233 

'*That  is  just  what  I  do  not  wish." 

"Pardon  me,"  said  the  lawyer,  in  surprise.  "I  do  not 
think  I  understand  you." 

"You  do  not.  In  the  first  place,  it  is  not  a  friend  in 
whose  welfare  I  am  interested." 

"  A  relation  ?  '*  suggested  Mr.  Sharp,  still  in  the  dark. 

"He  is  nothing  to  me,  —  nothing,  do  you  hear?"  ex- 
claimed Margaret,  with  fierce  emphasis.  "At  least,  not 
now.  What  he  has  been  it  is  needless  for  you  to  know,  or 
me  to  remember.  Enough,  that  I  have  reason  to  hate  him, 
that  I  wish  to  be  revenged  upon  him,  and  that  I  ask  you  to 
lend  me  your  assistance." 

"  Explain  the  case,  madam,  if  you  please.  I  will  give 
you  my  best  attention." 

"  I  have  sworn  to  be  revenged  upon  him,  and  I  will,"  said 
Margaret,  hoarsely,  rather  to  herself  than  to  the  lawyer. 
"  There  shall  be  no  flinching  now." 

She  pressed  her  hand  upon  her  breast,  as  if  to  still  forci- 
bly suppress  any  remonstrance  that  might  find  a  place  there. 

"  This  man,"  she  continued,  in  a  hurried  tone,  "  has  com- 
mitted forgery.  As  yet,  it  is  undiscovered.  I  wish  him 
brought  to  justice." 

"  What  has  he  forged  ?  " 

"A  will." 

"  A  will !  "  repeated  Mr.  Sharp,  pricking  up  his  ears  with 
Budden  interest.  "  May  I  ask  how  you  became  acquainted 
with  the  fact?" 

"  I  witnessed  the  deed." 

"  Was  the  party  aware  of  your  presence  ?  " 

"Far  from  it.  He  supposed  the  knowledge  confined  to 
himself  and  one  other,  who  instigated  him  to  the  act,  and 
rewarded  him  for  it.  He  supposed  me  asleep,  but  I  saw  and 
heard  the  whole  from  a  place  of  concealment.'* 

20» 


234  HSLSN   VOVD. 

"  This  man  is,  I  suppose,  a  copyist,  —  a  professional 
writer?" 

"Yes." 

*'  And  the  one  who  employed  him,  —  do  you  know  his 
name?  "  asked  the  lawyer,  with  hardly  concealed  eagemess- 

"  It  is  Rand." 

"Rand!"  echoed  Mr.  Sharp,  triumphantly.  "I  sus- 
pected so." 

"  Then  you  knew  of  this  ?  "  queried  Margaret,  surprised 
in  her  turn. 

"  No,  but  I  am  not  surprised  to  hear  it.  I  know  Lewis 
Band.    He  has  been  a  client  of  mine." 

"  You  will  not  thwart  my  plans  ?  "  said  Margaret,  appre- 
hensively. 

**  On  the  contrary,  what  you  have  told  me  gives  an  addi- 
tional inducement  to  further  them,  since  I  have  purposes  of 
my  own  which  will  be  served  thereby.  Have  you  any  cor- 
roborative evidence?  Your  testimony,  unsupported,  might 
not  be  deemed  sufficient." 

"  I  have  this,"  said  Margaret,  displaying  the  fragment  of 
paper  which  she  had  secured  on  her  return  from  Staten 
Island,  and  which,  as  the  reader  will  remember,  contained 
the  name.  Rand,  several  times  repeated  in  Jacob's  hand- 
writing, as  well  as  detached  sentences  of  the  will  itself. 
The  handwriting  was  a  close  imitation  of  the  original  will. 

"  Ah ! "  said  the  lawyer,  rubbing  his  hands  ;  "  that  is  very 
satisfactory.  With  this  and  your  testimony,  the  chain  of 
proof  will  be  complete.  Nothing  stronger  could  be 
desired." 

"  Then  you  think  we  shall  succeed." 

"I  have  no  doubt  of  it." 

"Whatever  is  to  be  done  must  be  done  quickly,"  said 
Margaret,  with  a  certain  feverish  haste ;  for,  now  that  her 
mind  was  made  up,  her  restless  spirit  craved  immediate 


THE   DENUNCIATION.  285 

action.  "This  man  —  the  copyist — is  about  to  remove 
firom  his  old  lodgings,  and,  if  there  is  any  delay,  he  will 
escape.  Besides,  if  he  is  apprehended  at  once,  he  will  be 
found  in  possession  of  the  price  of  his  guilt." 

"  That  will  doubtless  weigh  against  him.  K  you  will 
ftimish  me  with  his  address,  I  will  take  measures  to  have 
him  immediately  arrested." 

The  address  was  given  and  noted  down.  The  lawyer  still 
held  the  pen  suspended  over  the  paper.  "  His  name, — you 
have  not  mentioned  that." 

Margaret  hesitated.  There  was  a  brief  internal  conflict 
between  her  old  love  and  her  present  desire  of  revenge. 
The  latter  prevailed. 

"His  name,"  she  said,  in  a  voice  which  was  scarcely 
audible,  "  is  Jacob  Wynne." 

"  Jacob  Wynne  1     Good  I " 

Mr.  Sharp  noted  down  the  name  in  a  business-like  way, 
utterly  unconscious  of  the  struggle  in  the  mind  of  his  client, 
before  she  could  resolve  to  utter  it.  When,  however,  it  was 
pronounced,  and  she  felt  that  the  decisive  step  was  taken, 
her  mind,  as  is  common  in  such  cases,  became  more  tran- 
quil, and  she  composed  herself  to  wait  for  the  event. 

"Will  you  remain  here,"  asked  Mr.  Sharp,  "while  I  go 
out  and  cause  this  man  to  be  arrested?  I  will  be  back 
shortly,  and  will  then  report  progress." 

Margaret  inclined  her  head  in  the  affirmative.  Indeed, 
she  had  no  other  place  to  go,  and  she  was  already  so 
exhausted  that  she  could  not  go  out  into  the  streets,  and 
wander  hither  and  thither,  as  she  must  otherwise  have  done. 


CHAPTER  XXXVl. 


THE    ARREST. 


There  had  been  an  indefinable  something  in  Margaret** 
manner  during  her  interview  with  the  copyist,  which  left  an 
unpleasant  impression  upon  his  mind.  The  guilt,  of  which 
he  was  secretly  conscious,  increased  his  natural  cowardice. 
He  felt  that,  on  all  accounts,  it  would  be  better  to  lose  no 
time  in  his  anticipated  removal.  He  had  intended  to  leave 
the  next  day.     He  would  go  to-day. 

Acting  upon  this  resolution,  he  began  to  pack  the  con- 
tents of  the  drawers  into  a  trunk .  He  was  in  the  midst  of 
this  occupation,  when  a  knock  was  heai*d  at  the  door. 

"  Come  in,"  he  said,  carelessly,  without  at  once  turning  to 
the  door. 

ll^^Sharp  entered,  and  coughed  slightly,  with  the  design 
of  attracting  the  scrivener's  attention. 

"  I  beg  your  pardon,  sir,"  said  Jacob ;  "  I  am  quite  busy, 
preparing  for  a  removal.  Could  you  defer  your  business  till, 
—  say  day  after  to-morrow?" 

Our  lawyer  was  one  who  never,  under  any  circumstances, 
lost  his  politeness.  With  an  affability^  which  seemed  indica- 
tive of  the  kindest  feelings,  he  said,  affably,  "  I  believe  I 
address  Mr.  Wynne  ?  " 

"  You  are  right,"  said  Jacob,  who  still  labored  under  the 
impression  that  the  lawyer  was  one  who  required  his  services 
as  copyist. 

«  Mr.  Jacob  Wynne?  " 

"Yefi." 


THB   ABREST.  237 

"A  copyist?" 

"  Yes,  but  I  fear  that  I  shall  not  be  able  to  accommodate 
you  to-day,  being,  as  you  see,  on  the  point  of  removal." 

"  You  mistake  my  errand,  llr.  Wynne.  I  have  no  doubt 
that  you  are  a  skilful  copyist.  Indeed,  I  have  great  reason 
to  think  so,  and  do  not  doubt  that,  if  I  were  in  need  of  any- 
tiiing  in  your  line,  I  should  find  it  worth  while  to  apply  to 
you." 

"What,  then,  is  your  business?"  demanded  Jacob,  mys- 
tified.     • 

"  I  regret  to  say,  Mr.  Wynne,"  said  Mr.  Sharp,  losing 
none  of  his  afiability,  "  that  I  have  an  unpleasant  duty  to 
perform.    I  have  obtained  a  warrant  for  your  arrest." 

"  My  arrest  I "  repeated  the  copyist,  his  sallow  face 
exhibiting  unmistakable  terror. 

"  I  regret  to  say  so." 

"  On  what  charge  ?  "  ejaculated  Jacob,  too  well  surmising 
its  nature. 

"Forgery." 

Jacob's  lips  became  bloodless,  and  his  cheeks  assumed 
an  ashen  hue,  for  at  heart  he  was  a  very  coward.  In  the 
moment  of  trial,  none  could  be  more  craven. 

"  I  regret  to  disturb  you,"  said  Mr.  Sharp,  stepping  back 
to  the  door  and  opening  it.  "  Mr.  OflScer,  you  will  do  your 
duty." 

An  officer,  who  had  been  stationed  just  outside  the  door, 
now  entered,  and  formally  arrested  Jacob  Wynne. 

It  is  scarcely  possible  for  a  human  being  to  exhibit  "more 
abject  terror  than  the  miserable  copyist,  under  this  unfore* 
seen  blow.  All  his  strength  seemed  to  have  departed  from 
him.  When  commanded  by  the  officer  to  rise  and  accom- 
pany him,  he  attempted  to  do  so ;  but  his  limbs  trembled  ao^ 
tliat  he  was  scarcely  able  to  comply. 

"  A  clear  case,"  thought  the  lawyer* 


238  HELEN    FOED. 

"  Really,  my  dear  friend,"  said  Mr.  Sharp,  in  a  tone  of 
expostulation,  "  you  are  suffering  your  feelings  to  run  away 
with  you.     You  ny  ist  be  more  calm  and  collected." 

"  Is  there  no  way  of  escape?  "  asked  Jacob,  in  a  tone  of 
agonizing  entreaty.  "  Oh,  spare  me,  gentlemen,  and  indeed 
you  shall  be  well  rewarded.  See,  I  have  gold  ! "  and  he  hur- 
riedly unlocked  a  desk  on  the  table  beside  him.  "  Take 
what  you  will,  but  let  me  go." 

Mr.  Sharp's  eyes  glistened  as  he  caught  sight  of  the  gold ; 
but,  perceiving  no  way  in  which  he  could  avail  himself  of 
it,  he  assumed  a  tone  of  outraged  integrity. 

"  What,  sir !  "  he  exclaimed ;  "  can  you,  for  an  instant, 
suppose  that  we  would  be  guilty  of  interfering  with  the 
course  of  justice  for  a  paltry  bribe?  Thank  Heaven!  "  he 
continued,  fervently ;  "  my  integrity  was  never  called  in 
question.  -  Through  a  long  and  varied  professional  career,  I 
have  steadily  resisted  all  the  temptations  which  have  been 
brought  to  bear  upon  me.  Not  though  your  bribe  were  a 
thousand  times  as  large,  would  I  hesitate  for  a  moment. 
Far  better  poverty  and  the  consciousness  of  unsullied  integ- 
rity, than  wealth  and  a  dishonored  name !  I  have  no  doubt 
my  worthy  companion  unites  with  me  in  this  sentiment." 

"  Of  course  I  do,"  said  that  functionary,  gruffly. 

"Then  is  there  no  chance?"  asked  Jacob,  looking  appeal- 
ing from  one  to  the  other. 

"  Of  course,  if  you  are  innocent,  you  will  be  discharged 
from  custody.     The  law  only  punishes  the  guilty." 

This  remark  did  not  seem  to  yield  Jacob  much  comfort. 

•*  I  am  sorry  to  hurry  you,"  said  the  officer ;  "  but  1  cannot 
wait  much  longer."  . 

Jacob  rose  feebly,  and  descended  the  stairs  supported  by 
^  officer. 

When  the  wretched  copyist  came  in  sight  of  the  Tombs, 
Ids  strength  again  deserted  him,  and  he  became  as  weak  as  an 


THE  ABBEST. 

infant.     Supported  on  either  side  he  passed  through  the 
portal,  and  the  heavy  door  swung  back  upon  its  hinges. 

When  he  had  been  conducted  to  his  cell  and  left  alone,  he 
flung  himself  in  an  agony  of  terror  and  apprehension  upon 
the  pallet,  clenching  his  hands  in  impotent  fury,  while  he 
muttered  to  himself,  "Margaret  has  done  this  I  Margargl 
kas  done  this  I  ** 


CHAPTER  XXXVn. 
A  woman's  heart. 

Whek  the  lawyer  returned  to  his  office,  he  found  Margaret 
seated  in  the  same  place  and  in  the  same  attitude  in  which 
he  had  left  her.  She  started  when  he  came  into  the  room, 
and  fixed  her  eyes  eagerly  upon  him  with  a  look  of  anxious 
inquiry. 

"  Well,"  said  the  lawyer,  rubbing  his  hands  cheerfully, 
"  we  have  succeeded.    The  bird  is  fairly  caged." 

"Where  have  you  carried  him?"  asked  Margaret,  in  a 
low  voice. 

"  To  the  Tombs  I  " 

"  How  did  he  appear  when  you  arrested  him?"  Margaret 
asked. 

"  Appear  I  Frightened  to  death.  I  never  saw  a  person 
more  thoroughly  terrified  than  he  was.  He  even  had  the 
temerity  to  ofler  me  money  if  I  would  aid  him  to  escape," 
said  Mr.  Sharp,  in  a  burst  of  virtuous  indignation. 

Margaret  sat  for  a  short  time  in  the  same  attitude  of 
abstraction  in  which  the  lawyer  found  her.  She  had  suc- 
ceeded, then.  He  who  had  wronged  and  ill-treated  her  was 
already  in  a  prison-cell.  The  revenge  for  which  she  had 
longed  was  now  hers.  Yet  it  failed  to  give  her  that  satis- 
faction she  had  in  anticipation.  In  the  moment  of  her  suc- 
cess she  realized  that  revenge  was  like  a  two-edged  sword, 
wounding  those  who  wielded  it,  as  well  as  him  against  whom 
it  was  directed.  Yet  would  she  recall  what  she  had  done? 
No,  at  least  not  yet.     Her  brain  was  in  a  whirl  of  excite- 


A   WOMAN'S   HEART.  241 

ment,  a  prey  to  conflicting  thoughts.  She  must  get  Into  the 
fi*esh  air.  She  rose  from  the  chair,  and  with  unsteady  feet 
walked  slowly  towards  the  door,  without  a  word. 

The  lawyer  looked  at  her  with  a  puzzled  glance.  He  could 
not  read  her  history.  He  had  expected  that  she  would 
rejoice  in  the  intelligence  be  brought.  Instead,  she  seemed 
bewildered. 

As  she  lifted  the  latch,  he  said,  hesitatingly,  "  In  case  I 
should  wish  to  communicate  with  you,  where  shall  I  call  ?  " 

"  I  will  caU  here,"  said  Margaret,  briefly,  and  passed  out. 

"  A  queer  subject,"  soliloquized  Mr.  Shai'p,  as  he  lighted 
a  fragrant  Havana,  and  sat  down  to  a  meditative  smoke. 
**  Yet  she  may  prove  a  client  not  to  be  despised.  If  things 
work  right,  I  shall  obtain  through  her  a  hold  upon  Lewis 
Rand  which  I  shall  be  pretty  apt  to  use.  He  has  thrown  me 
off  without  ceremony.  He  may  find  it  to  his  advantage  to 
cultivate  my  acquaintance.  Well,  well,  the  world  turns 
round,  and  it  is  only  fair  that  I  should  be  at  the  top,  part  of 
the  time." 

Meanwhile  Margaret  was  making  her  way  through  the 
streets,  changing  her  direction  more  than  once,  yet  tending 
ever  nearer  and  nearer  to  one  point.  At  length  she  stood 
before  the  City  Prison  I  With  blanched  cheek  and  aching 
heart  she  looked  upward  at  the  huge  pile.  She  wondered  in 
what  quarter  of  the  prison  they  had  placed  Jacob,  and  how 
he  bore  his  confinement.  What  a  mystery  is  a  woman's 
heart !  When  she  had  thought  of  him  only  as  prosperous 
and  triumphant,  her  heart  had  been  swayed  by  vindictive 
passion.  Now  in  his  humiliation  she  felt  drawn  towards 
him  —  she  felt  even  compassion  for  him.  For  more  than  an 
an  hour  she  stood  gazing  at  the  dismal  structure.  Already 
the  sun  had  set,  and  the  darkness  was  coming  on.  It  closed 
about  her  wrapping  her  in  its  dusky  mantle.  It  was  one  of 
those  autumn  days  that  are  succeeded  by  a  chill  evening. 

21 


M2  HELEN    FOSD. 

She  shivered  as  the  cold  penetrated  her  wretched  shawl 
which  scantily  served  as  a  protection,  and  seeing  a  sheltered 
passage-way  nearly  opposite  where  she  was  standing,  walked 
there  and  sat  down  upon  steps  concealed  from  the  sight 
of  the  few  passers-by  in  a  state  of  exhaustion.  Overtasked 
nature  succumbed,  and  she  sank  into  a  troubled  sleep. 

At  an  early  hour  in  the  morning  she  was  aroused  to  con- 
sciousness again,  and  urged  by  an  impulse  which  she  could 
not  resist,  crossed  the  street,  made  her  way  to  the  office  of 
the  prison,  and  made  known  her  desire  to  see  a  prisoner. 

"  Who  do  you  wish  to  see?  " 

"  Jacob  Wynne." 

The  officer  in  attendance  turned  to  a  book  containing  a 
list  of  the  unhappy  persons  who  had  found  a  home  within 
these  walls. 

"  Yes,"  he  said,  reading  the  entry ;  "  Jacob  Wynne, 
arrested  on  a  charge  of  forgery.  He  was  brought  here 
only  yesterday." 

"  May  I  see  him?  "  Margaret  asked,  eagerly. 

"  It  is  hardly  possible.  The  hour  at  which  visitors  are 
admitted  has  not  arrived.    You  must  wait  till  ten  o'clock." 

"  I  have  been  waiting  all  night,"  said  Margaret. 

"AU  night.    Where?" 

"  In  the  street." 

There  was  something  in  her  tone  that  struck  the  officer. 
He  regarded  her  compassionately. 

"You  will  make  an  exception  in  my  favor?  I  am  his 
wife." 

"  I  do  not  know,"  he  hesitated.  "  I  may  be  exceeding 
my  authority."  But  the  sharp  anxiety  in  Margaret's  face 
decided  him.     "  I  will  do  it  once,  as  a  special  favor." 

Margaret  did  not  thank  him  in  words,  but  her  face  iras 
eloquent  with  gratitude.  The  sharp  lines  of  anxiety  »offc- 
®ned,  and  an  expression  of  relief  succeeded. 


▲  woman's  heabt.  24S 

She  followed  him  through  the  long,  damp  corridor,  until 
they  stood  before  the  cell  tenanted  bj^  Jacob  Wynne.  Mar- 
garet was  admitted,  a  faint  light  handed  her,  and  then  the 
door  was  locked  as  before. 

The  prisoner  was  stretched  on  the  hard  pallet,  with  his 
face  buried  in  it.  He  seemed  in  a  dull  stupor,  the  result  of 
his  excessive  fear.  He  did  not  even  look  up  as  the  door 
was  opened,  but  his  frame  shook  with  a  convulsive  tremor, 

Margaret  advanced  to  the  bed,  and  kneeling,  touched  his 
arm  gently,  while  she  uttered  his  name  softly. 

"Jacob!" 

He  started,  and  looked  wildly  at  his  visitor.  He  did  not 
seem  to  comprehend  that  it  was  Margaret  in  real  presence: 
who  knelt  beside  him. 

"  Away  I  away  I "  he  exclaimed,  shuddering  at  her  touchy 
"  Why  must  I  be  tormented  before  my  time  ?  " 

"  Don't  you  know  me,  Jacob  ?     I  am  Margaret." 

He  looked  at  her  half  in  doubt,  and  said,  sullenly,  "  What 
more  do  you  want  with  me  ?  Is  it  not  enough  that  you  have 
sent  me  here  ?    Have  you  come  to  finish  your  work  ?  " 

"  I  have  come  to  save  you." 

"To  save  me?  Then  it  was  not  you  who  caused  my 
arrest?" 

"  Yes,  Jacob,  but  I  did  not  know  what  I  was  doing.  I 
was  hurried  away  by  passion.     Forgive  me,  Jacob." 

"Your  regrets  will  avail  little  now,"  he  said,  bitterly. 
'*  You  have  placed  me  here,  and  here  I  must  stay.  Oh,  it  i& 
horrible,"  he  said,' shuddering,  "  to  be  shut  up  in  this  damp, 
noisome  cell ! " 

"  Listen,  Jacob,"  said  Margaret ;  "  your  case  is  not  so 
hopeless  as  you  imagiue.  It  was  at  my  instance  that  you 
were  arrested.  Heaven  knows  that  I  had  some  cause.  But 
I  am  sorry  for  it  now.  If  you  are  convicted,  it  can  only  be 
iq)0U  my  testimony.      Should  I  absent  myself  from  your 


244  HELEN    FORD. 

trial,  nothing  could  be  proved  against  you,  and  you  would 
be  released." 

"Will  you  do  this,  Margaret?"  asked  the  prisoner,  hope 
once  more  kindling  in  his  heart.  "  If  you  will,  I  will  for- 
ever bless  you.  My  fate  hangs  upon  your  decision.  You 
don't  know  how  I  have  suffered  already,  in  the  few  hours  I 
have  stayed  here.  Have  compassion  upon  me,  Margaret,  and 
I  will  take  you  back  again  as  my  wife.  In  one  respect  I 
have  deceived  you.  Our  marriage  was  genuine.  Forgive 
me  for  trying  to  persuade  you  otherwise." 

An  expression  of  earnest  gratitude  and  relief  overspread 
Margaret's  face.  "  Thank  you  for  those  words,  Jacob.  It 
cancels  all  the  harshness  and  all  the  wrong  that  I  have  met 
at  your  hands.     Then  I  am  really  your  wedded  wife  ?  " 

"Yes,  Margaret,"  said  Jacob,  humbly,  for  confinement 
had  wrought  a  salutary  change  in  his  deportment ;  "I  con- 
fess that  I  wished  to  convince  you  of  the  contrary.  I  even 
meditated,  in  my  wickedness,  marrying  another  for  her 
wealth,  not  because  I  loved  her.  But  it  is  all  over  now, 
and  I  am  glad  of  it.  Only  release  me  from  this  imprison- 
ment, and  I  promise " 

"Promise  nothing,"  said  Margaret;  "I  do  not  wish  to 
take  advantage  of  your  present  situation,  when  perhaps  you 
might  be  induced  to  promise  that  which  you  would  after- 
wards repent." 

"  But,  I  am  sincere." 

"  You  may  be  now,  but  will  it  last?  I  do  not  wish,"  she 
resumed,  with  proud  composure,  "  to  force  myself  upon  you 
against  your  will.  You  have  already  freed  me  from  my 
chief  trouble,  in  acknowledging  that  our  marriage  was  not  the 
idle  mockery  you  would  have  had  me  believe.  Farther  than 
that,  I  require  nothing  of  you.  K,  at  the  end  of  six  months 
from  your  release,  you  still  desire  that  I  should  come  to  you, 


A  woman's  heart.  245 

I  will.  Till  that  time  has  passed,  it  is  best  that  we  should 
be  to  each  other  as  strangers." 

Margaret  spoke  with  calmness  and  dignity.  Even  Jacob 
perceived  this,  and  he  could  not  help  feeling  an  unwonted 
admiration  for  the  woman  he  had  spumed.  He  had  never 
felt  her  value  till,  by  her  own  act,  a  wall  of  separation  was 
built  up  between  them. 

"  I  have  no  right  to  complain,"  said  Jacob,  humbly.  "  I 
do  not  deserve  your  confidence,  Margaret ;  but  you  shall 
find,  hereafter,  that  I  am  more  trustworthy  than  you  think." 

"Heaven  grant  it,  Jacob!  Do  not  think  me  unkind  or 
vindictive,  if  I  refuse  at  once  to  burden  you  with  myself.  I 
should  not  survive  a  second  repulse.  What  I  have  suffered 
from  our  estrangement,  God  only  knows.  But  it  shall  be 
forgotten." 

"  How  long  shall  I  be  obliged  to  remain  here?  " 

"  I  do  not  know.  At  any  rate,  only  till  I  can  arrange  for 
your  release.     I  wiU  lose  no  time  about  it." 

The  turnkey  appeared,  and  Margaret  went  forth  from  the 
cell,  leaving  Jacob  inexpressibly  relieved  by  the  promise  she 
had  made.  He  knew  Margaret  well  enough  to  feel  assured 
that  she  would  keep  it. 

Not  less  relieved  was  Margaret.  The  black  cloud  which 
hung  over  her  was  dissipated.  Now  she  could  resign  her- 
self even  to  the  alienation  of  Jacob's  affection,  since  she 
was  assured  that,  by  the  laws  of  God  and  man,  she  was  still 
his  wedded  wife.  He  had  treated  her  most  basely  and  un- 
worthily, that  she  knew  full  well ;  but  this  guilt  and  morti- 
fication, at  least,  she  was  spared.  She  felt  new  strength  in 
her  limbs,  new  cheerfulness  in  her  heart.  She  bent  her  steps 
at  once  to  Mr.  Sharp's  office.  To  him  she  made  known  her 
change  of  determination,  and  her  desire  to  suppress  hei 
evidence,  that  the  prisoner  might  be  released. 

21» 


HELEN   FORD. 

Mr.  Sharp  was  embarrassed.  This  sudden  whim,  as  he 
called  it,  threatened  to  disarrange  all  his  plans. 

He  paced  the  office,  while  Margaret  followed  him  with  an 
anxious  look. 

" Is  it  too  late?"  she  inquired. 

"  I  will  tell  you,  madam,  how  the  matter  stands,"  said  the 
lawyer,  suddenly,  taking  a  seat  opposite  Margaret.  "  By 
this  false  will,  whose  forgery  you  can  attest,  a  large  estate 
has  been  diverted  from  the  legal  heirs,  —  a  father  and  child, 
—  highly  estimable,  but  very  poor,  and  been  seized  upon  by 
an  artful  villain,  —  a  cousin,  —  whose  best  efforts  have  been 
given  to  the  task  of  sowing  dissension  between  the  late  Mr. 
Rand  and  the  son  to  whom  I  allude.  Now  the  question 
arises,  whether  it  is  right,  for  the  sake  of  saving  a  guilty 
man,  to  perpetuate  this  great  wrong,  and  keep  the  rightful 
heirs  out  of  their  inheritance?  Do  you  dare  to  take  upon 
your  soul  that  responsibility?" 

Mr.  Sharp  argued  well.  Let  not  the  reader  give  him  too 
much  credit  for  disinterested  love  of  right.  It  should  not 
be  forgotten,  that  he  rightly  anticipated  from  ^Ir.  Ford  a 
liberal  reward  for  his  professional  exertions. 

"What  would  you  have  me  do?"  asked  Margaret,  in  a 
troubled  tone.  "  I  do  not  wish  to  aid  injustice,  but  this  man 
is  my  husband  I " 

"  Indeed  I "  exclaimed  the  lawyer,  surprised.  "  Yet  you 
gave  the  information  that  led  to  his  arrest." 

"  I  knew  not  what  I  did.  I  was  angry  and  vindictive. 
But  is  there  nothing  that  can  be  done  to  restore  the  estate 
without  the  sacrifice  of  my  husband?  " 

Mr.  Sharp  considered  a  moment. 

"I  think  I  can  manage  it,"  he  said;  "but  it  will  be 
necessary  for  your  husband  to  remain  in  confinement  for  a 
few  days  longer.    Will  you  consent  to  this  ?  " 

"  Freely."  . 


A  woman's  heart.  247 

"  Then  I  will  see  Mr.  Rand,  and  I  tMnk  I  can  so  far  work 
apon  his  fears  as  to  extort  from  him  at  least  a  portion  of 
what  he  has  so  criminally  acquired.  Meanwhile,  it  will  be 
best  for  you  to  keep  out  of  the  way ;  only  let  me  know 
where  to  find  you  irj  case  I  require  your  presence." 

Thus  matters  were  arranged.  Margaret  returned  to  her 
mother,  not  as  she  left  her,  dull  and  dispirited,  but  with  a 
die^rftdness  for  which  the  latter  strove  in  yain  to  account. 


CHAPTER    XXXVnL 

GREEK  MEETS    GREEBl. 

The  novelty  of  possession  had  not  yet  palled  upon  Lewis 
Band.  It  seemed  to  him  still  like  a  dream,  of  whose  reality 
he  could  scarcely  assure  himself.  Day  after  day  he  wan- 
dered through  the  magnificently-furnished  rooms  of  the 
stately  dwelling,  and  surveyed  them  with  a  proud  rising  of 
the  heart.  In  the  evening,  as  he  sat  before  the  grate  fire 
in  the  library,  for  the  evenings  were  growing  cool,  he  would 
run  over  in  his  mind  the  long  list  of  his  possessions,  and 
launch  forth  in  imagination  upon  plans  which  he  meant  to 
carry  out.  If  by  chance  the  image  of  the  cousin  whom  he 
had  defrauded  presented  itself,  it  was  hastily  dismissed. 

One  evening,  as  he  sat  idly  before  the  fire,  indulging  in 
complacent  thoughts,  a  servant  announced  a  visitor. 

"Bring  him  in  here,"  said  Lewis,  albeit  somewhat  sur- 
prised at  an  intrusion  at  that  late  hour.  This  surprise  was 
not  lessened  when,  in  the  visitor,  he  recognized  Mr.  Sharp. 

The  lawyer  advanced  with  an  air  of  easy  assurance,  and 
as  he  glanced  about  him  observed,  rubbing  his  hands, 
"  Really,  Mr.  Rand,  you  are  quite  charmingly  situated.  I  am 
reminded  of  what  I  have  read  of  the  Mohammedan  Paradise. 
To  make  it  complete,  you  only  need  a  houri." 

"  Yet,  Paradise  as  it  is,"  said  Lewis,  significantly,  for  he 
had  neither  forgotten  nor  forgiven  the  lawyer's  treachery, 
"  it  is  not  free  from  the  intrusion  of  evil  spirits." 

"  Indeed ! "  returned  Mr.  Sharp,  with  an  admirable  air  of 
onconsciousness,  "  you  surprise  me." 


GBEEK  MEETS  GBEEK.  249 

"  Not  more  than  I  am  surprised  to  see  you  here.  If  it  is 
not  taking  too  great  a  liberty,  might  I  inquire  the  motive  of 
your  visit?    I  presume  it  is  not  the  pleasure  of  seeing  me." 

"  That's  undoubtedly  one  of  mj^  motives,"  said  the  law- 
yer, affably ;  "  but,  as  you  surmise,  it  is  not  the  only  one.  I 
wish  to  speak  with  j^ou  on  important  business." 

"  Perhaps  you  have  made  out  a  bill  of  charge  for  the  very 
valuable  services  you  have  rendered  me  ?  " 

"  Thank  you,"  said  Mr.  Sharp,  bowing ;  "  I  cannot  express 
the  gratification  I  feel  at  this  generous  commendation  on  the 
part  of  one  in  whose  behalf  I  have  put  forth  my  poor  ef- 
forts." 

"  Sir,"  said  Lewis  Rand,  rising  impatiently,  "  you  cannot 
hope  to  deceive  me  by  your  impertm-bable  assurance.  You 
serve  my  interests  I  You  put  forth  efforts  in  my  behalf  I 
You,  who  turned  traitor  to  my  interests,  and  sought  by  every 
means  in  your  power  to  defeat  my  plans !  This,  I  suppose, 
is  your  idea  of  legal  fidelity." 

"  I  fancy,"  said  the  lawyer,  boldly,  "  that  I  have  been  as 
faithful  to  you  as  you  to  your  uncle.  If  we  are  to  indulge 
in  recrimination,  it  may  be  that  I  shall  not  come  off  second- 
best." 

"  What  do  you  mean,  sir?  You  are  disposed  to  be  imper- 
tinent. Can  you  deny  that  it  was  through  your  agency 
that  my  cousin  was  informed  of  that  which  I  most  desired  to 
conceal  from  him?  " 

"  And  thereby,"  said  the  lawyer,  composedly,  "  enabled  a 
father  and  son  to  meet  before  Death  came  in  to  separate 
them  forever  upon  the  earth." 

"  This,  then,  is  the  construction  which  you  put  upon  your 
conduct,"  said  Lewis,  with  a  sneer.  "  I  congratulate  you 
apon  your  elevated  sentiments." 

"  Thank  you,"  said  Mr.  Sharp,  bowing  modestly.     "  Ap- 


250  HELXV   FOBD. 

preciation  is  always  soothing  to  the  feelings.  Praise  firom 
such  a  source  makes  me  proud,  indeed." 

Lewis  was  incensed  to  find  the  lawyer  adopting  the  tone 
which  he  had  hitherto  arrogated  to  himself.  That  a  briefless 
attorney  should  dare  to  indulge  in  sarcasm  at  his  expense  was 
a  piece  of  unparalleled  presumption. 

"  I  need  not  say,"  he  remarked  with  a  smile  of  conscious 
power,  "  how  much  I  regret  putting  to  inconvenience  a  man 
of  such  elevated  and  Christian  sentiments  as  yourself. 
Tet  I  am  under  the  necessity  of  reminding  you  that  you  have 
in  your  possession  some  three  hundred  dollars  which  I  in- 
trusted to  you  for  a  particular  purpose.  That  sum  I  have 
present  occasion  for.  If  you  are  unable  to  pay  me,  I  may 
feel  called  upon  to  resort  to  measures  which  may  be  mutu- 
ally disagreeable." 

"  I  am  glad  you  mentioned  it,"  said  Mr.  Sharp,  blandly. 
"  By  the  way,  you  can  show  proof  that  you  did  intrust  me 
with  this  money  ?  " 

Lewis  colored  with  mortification.  He  had  no  such  proof, 
and  his  threat  was  futile. 

*'  You  perceive,"  said  the  lawyer,  nonchalantly,  "  that  if 
I  were  dishonest,  I  might  deny  the  trust.  But  such  is  not 
my  intention.    Will  you  favor  me  with  a  slip  of  paper?" 

Mr.  Sharp  made  out  a  bili  for  professional  services  amount- 
ing to  three  hundred  dollars.  This  he  receipted,  and  handed 
to  Lewis. 

"  I  believe  we  are  now  quits,"  he  said. 

Baffled  once  more,  Lewis  turned  upon  the  lawyer  with  ft 
ftiry  which  he  no  longer  attempted  to  conceal. 

" Then,"  said  he,  "I  see  no  fiirther  reason  for  continuing 
this  iuterview." 

"  Pardon  me,"  said  Mr.  Sharp,  "  my  business  is  not  yet 
completed ;  I  came  here  in  behalf  of  your  cousin,  my  client^ 
Robert  Rand." 


6RESK  MEETS  GREEK.  251 

"  Perhaps,"  said  Lewis,  with  a  sneer,  "  hft  has  come  to  his 
senses,  and  decided  to  accept  the  offer  I  made  him  the  day- 
after  the  funeral.  You  may  inform  him  that  he  is  too  late. 
The  offer  is  withdrawn." 

"  As  to  that,  your  message  is  unnecessary,  since  he  has 
not  the  slightest  disposition  to  accept  it." 

"  Indeed  I  Then  may  I  beg  to  know  with  what  message 
you  are  charged  ?  " 

"  He  will  agree  to  receive  nothing  less  than  half  the  es- 
tate." 

**  He  is  quite  moderate.  You  are  sure  that  he  does  not 
demand  the  whole  ?  " 

"  Quite  so.  He  has  no  disposition  to  impoverish  you,  not- 
withstanding the  wrongs  he  has  received  at  your  hands." 

"  He  is  considerate,"  said  Lewis,  *'  very  considerate !  How 
floon  does  he  expect  an  answer  to  his  modest  proposal?" 

"This  very  night." 

"And  suppose,"  said  Lewis  (of  course,  it  is  highly  improb- 
able), "  but  suppose  I  should  decline  complying  with  this 
v«y  moderate  demand  of  my  worthy  cousin  ?    What  then? " 

Lewis  regarded  Mr.  Sharp  with  an  exulting  smile. 

"  Allow  me,  before  answering  your  question,  to  propose 
one  of  my  own." 

"  Certainly,  Mr.  Sharp,"  said  Lewis,  graciously,  already 
exulting'  in  the  other's  discomfiture ;  "  I  shall  be  happy  to 
give  you  information  upon  any  point  you  may  desire." 

He  leaned  back  and  surveyed  the  lawyer  with  an  insolent 
smile.    But  his  triumph  was  short-lived. 

**  Are  you  acquainted  with  a  copyist  named  Wynne,  — 
Jacob  Wynne? "  —  asked  Mr,  Sharp,  looking  searchingly  at 
bis  late  client. 

Lewis  Hand  started,  and  his  sallow  face  grew  red  and 
white  by  turns. 


252  HELEN    FOBD. 

"  "Well,"  said  he,  with  a  vaia  effort  to  speak  carelessly, 
"and  if  I  do?" 

"He  is  now  an  inmate  of  the  Tombs,"  said  Mr.  Sharp, 
significantly. 

Lewis  rose  from  his  seat,  and  paced  the  room.  At  length 
he  paused  before  the  lawyer. 

"Why  do  you  tell  me  this?"  he  demanded  fiercely, 
**What  have  I  to  do  with  a  paltry  scrivener?  What  is  it 
to  me  that  he  is  in  prison  ?  Doubtless  he  has  been  there 
before,  and  you  too,  for  ought  I  know." 

"  He  was  arrested  on  a  charge  of  forgery,"  said  the  law- 
yer, slowly,  watching  the  effect  of  this  announcement  on  his 
oompanion. 

Lewis  sat  down,  brought  to  bay  at  last,  and  leaned  his 
head  upon  the  table.  He  no  longer  dared  to  evade  the  sub- 
ject. He  felt  that  the  danger  was  imminent,  and  must  be 
confronted. 

"  How  was  his  arrest  brought  about  ?  "  he  inquired. 

'*  Through  the  agency  of  a  woman, — his  wife,  I  believe, — 
who,  in  consequence  of  some  quarrel,  wishes  to  revenge  her- 
self upon  this  Jacob.  When  the  forgery  was  committed  she 
was  a  concealed  spectator,  and  saw  and  heard  the  whole. 
She  can  swear  to  the  person  who  employed  Jacob  Wynne  to  do 
this  service  I  Nor  is  this  all.  She  has  a  piece  of  paper  — 
a  torn  half  sheet  —  which  was  used  by  the  copyist  to  try  his 
pen  on  that  night.  It  contains  a  name  several  times  repeated.* 

Lewis  did  not  inquire  what  name. 

"  Go  on,"  he  said,  hoarsely. 

"This  woman — this  Margaret  —  fell  in  with  me,  and  ap- 
plied to  me  to  help  her.  It  suited  my  purpose  to  do  so,  al- 
though her  poverty  will  prevent  my  receiving  any  recom- 
pense from  her." 

"  Then  she  is  poor,"  said  Lewis,  thoughtfully.  "  Where 
Issho?" 


GREEK   MEETS    GREEK.  253 

"  Pardon  me,"  said  Mr.  Sharp,  reading  the  purpose  of 
Lewis  in  his  face;  "that  is  a  question  which  I  cannot  an-i 
Bwer.'* 

"  Has  Jacob  divulged  anything  since  he  was  imprisoned?  ** 

"That  was  not  needful.  I  will  at  once  speak  to  the 
point,  Mr.  Rand.  It  can  be  abundantly  proved  that  this 
forgery  was  committed  at  your  instigation.  Once  let  this 
be  known,  and  you  become  amenable  to  the  same  penalties 
which  now  menace  your  instrument.  One  word  from  me 
will  carry  you  to  prison  to-night.  There  is  no  chance  of 
escape.  I  have  obtained  a  warrant,  and  an  oflScer  is  wait- 
ing at  the  door.    But  there  is  an  alternative." 

Lewis  summoned  all  the  energies  of  his  crafty  and  subtile 
mind  to  devise  some  method  of  escape.  But  he  was  entan- 
gled in  a  labyrinth  from  which  he  could  not  extricate  him- 
self.- 

"  Give  me  tiU  to-morrow,"  he  said. 

"  I  regret  that  I  cannot  do  so,"  said  the  liawyer,  politely. 

"  Name  your  proposition,  then,"  he  said,  sullenly. 

Mr.  Sharp  drew  from  his  pocket  a  legal  instrument  con- 
veying one  half  of  all  his  estates  to  Robert  Rand,  some 
time  known  as  Robert  Ford.  It  was  drawn  up  with  all  the 
precision  and  technicality  required  by  the  law.  It  only 
needed  the  signature  of  Lewis. 

Lewis  read  it  with  dark  and  lowering  face.  "  I  cannot 
sign  it,"  he  said,  desperately. 

"  Then  I  fear  you  must  exchange  this  warm  fireside  foran 
apartment  less  luxurious." 

"j?Ate  is  against  me,"  muttered  Lewis,  moved  by  this 
threat.    "  Since  it  must  be  done." 

"  Will  you  have  the  kindness  to  summon  two  of  ycur  ser- 
vants to  witness  the  document?"  said  the  lawyer. 

Lewis  rang  the  bell  sharply. 

"  Jacqueline,  call  Antoine,  and  come  in  yourself." 


254  HELEN   TOBD. 


Lewis  signed  his  name. 

"  Will  that  satisfy  you?  "  he  said,  bitterly. 

"  Perfectly,"  said  IVIr.  Sharp,  bowing. 

"  Then,  Antoine,  you  will  show  this  gentleman  to  the 
door." 

Mr.  Sharp  bowed  graciously,  and  withdrew.  A  moment 
more,  and  Lewis  was  left  alone,  —  a  prey  to  the  keenest  dis- 
appointment. Troubled  as  he  was  by  the  loss  of  one  half 
his  possessions,  there  were  two  things  that  troubled  him 
even  more.  He  had  been  out-generalled  by  one  of  his  own 
tools,  whom  he  had  looked  upon  with  contempt,  and  his 
cousin,  whom  he  detested  more  than  ever,  was  now  as 
wealthy  as  himself. 

Lewis  Rand  paced  the  library  with  disordered  steps,  till 
far  into  the  night,  and,  when  he  retired  to  his  chamber,  it 
was  not  to  sleep. 


CHAPTER  XXXTX. 

THE   SLAVE   OF  THS  NEEDLE. 

'Pekhaps  no  employment  is  more  confining  and  more 
poorly  compensated  than  that  of  sewing.  The  ijorow 
choice  allowed  to  women,  who  are  compelled  to  labor  for 
their  livelihood,  leads  to  an  unhealthy  and  disastrous  c^  ^mpe- 
tition  in  this  department  of  toil,  and  enables  employers  to 
establish  a  disgracefully  low  scale  of  prices.*  Fifteen  hours 
out  of  the  twenty-four  are  sometimes  spent  in  unremitting 
labor,  the  results  of  which  will  scarcely  keep  soul  and  body 
together.  The  cook  or  house-maid  enjoys  a  degree  of  com- 
fort, and  commands  an  income  (including  board)  absolutely 
unattainable  by  the  slave  of  the  needle. 

Hard  work  and  an  absence  of  nourishing  food  were  begin- 
ning to  tell  on  the  delicate  frame  of  Martha  Grey.  An 
expert  needle-woman,  she  commanded,  in  good  times,  an 
abundant  supply  of  work.  But  times  had  changed.  The 
shops  gave  out  less  work,  while  the  number  who  desired  it 
seemed  rather  to  have  increased  than  diminished.  The 
natural  result  followed,  —  a  reduction  in  the  compensation, 
already  disgracefully  low.  Many  could  not  obtain  a  chance 
to  work  at  any  price.  Martha  was  allowed  her  usual  supply, 
but  at  prices  twenty  per  cent,  lower  than  she  had  before 
received.  The  heart  of  the  poor  seamstress  sank  within  her, 
as  she  walked  home  with  a  bundle  of  woik,  for  which  she 


**TIi«  reader  li  referred  to  aa  interesting  series  of  papers,  entitled  '*  Needle  aad 
Qsrden,"  pablished  la  the  "  Atlantic  Monthly  "  during  the  year  1866. 

256 


256  HELEN    FORD. 

was  to  be  paid  at  the  new  rate.  How  was  she  to  econo- 
mize? It  seemed  before  as"  if  her  wants  were  reduced  to 
the  minimum,  and  yet  she  had  been  able  to  lay  by  nothing. 
In  addition  to  this,  her  health,  never  very  firm,  had  showa 
gome  indications  of  failure.  She  was  troubled  with  occas- 
sional dizziness  and  frequent  nervous  headaches,  which  ren- 
dered her  enforced  slavery  to  the  needle  a  torture,  but  one 
from  which  she  could  not  deliver  herself. 

But  one  alternative  presented  itself.  She  must  contract 
her  necessary  expenditures,  or  increase  her  hours  of  work. 
She  did  not  know  how  to  compass  the  one,  while  the  other 
would  probably  lead  to  sickness.  She  attempted  a  middle 
course.  On  a  scantier  diet  she  strove  to  work  an  hour  more 
daily.  The  result  was  what  might  have  been  anticipated. 
Nature  succumbed.  One  morning  Helen,  on  returning 
from  rehearsal,  entered  Martha's  room  unceremoniously,  as 
was  her  wont.  Great  was  her  dismay  on  discovering  her 
friend  lying  insensible  on  the  floor.  Her  work,  on  which 
she  had  been  engaged  up  to  the  moment  of  her  attack,  had 
fallen  from  her  bands,  and  lay  beside  her. 

Helen  was  not  unused  to  such  cases.  Though  quite  ter- 
rified, she  had  sufficient  self-possession  to  apply  the  proper 
restoratives. 

Martha  soon  opened  her  eyes,  and,  recognizing  Helen, 
smiled  faintly. 

"How  do  j^ou  feel,  Martha?"  inquired  Helen,  anxiously. 

"  I  am  afraid  I  am  going  to  be  sick,"  said  Martha. 

"  When  did  you  first  feel  it  ?  " 

*'  It  has  been  coming  on  for  several  days.  I  have  not 
been  free  from  the  headache  for  a  week." 

"  Why  didn't  you  tell  me  before?  "  asked  Helen,  reproach- 
fiilly. 

"  Because  you  could  have  done  me  no  good,  my  deai 
child." 


THE   SLAVE    OP  THE   NEEDLE.  257 

"  Let  me  help  you  to  the  bed.  Now  you  must  lie  do"wn, 
and  try  to  rest.  I  suppose  you  have  worked  just  as  usual, 
too,  you  imprudent  Martha." 

"I  can't  afford  to  lie  still,  you  know." 

"  You  can  afford  to  lie  still  better  than  to  ruin  your 
health." 

By  this  time  Martha  was  lying  on  the  bed. 

"  If  you  will  pass  me  my  work,  Helen,  I  think  I  can  sew 
while  I  am  lying  down." 

"No,  Martha,"  said  Helen,  shaking  her  head;  "I  shall 
not  allow  it.  You  are  wholly  unfit  for  work.  You  must 
have  a  good  long  rest." 

"But,  Helen " 

"I  know  what  you  would  say,  —  that  you  can't  afford  to 
lie  still.  Just  as  if  you  had  no  friends,  you  unreasonable 
child.  For  a  week  to  come,  you  must  not  touch  your  needle. 
During  that  time  I  will  bring  in  your  meals  to  you." 

«  But,  Helen " 

"  Now  don't  be  perverse,  Martha.  Papa  says  I  am  a 
tyrant,  and  I  mean  to  be  in  this  case.  To  make  sure  that 
you  don't  touch  your  work,  I  shall  carry  it  away  with  me, 
and  finish  it  myself." 

"  But,  Helen,  you  have  yOur  father  to  care  for.  I  cannot 
consent  to  become  a  burden  upon  you." 

"Are  you  aware,  Martha,  how  rich  I  am?  For  some 
weeks  past,  I  have  spent  scarcely  more  than  half  my  income. 
You  see,  therefore,  that  I  am  abundantly  able  to  do  what 
little  I  propose.  But  I  sha'n't  allow  you  to  talk  any  more. 
Try  to  go  to  sleep,  and  I  will  come  in  pretty  soon.  Mind  I 
find  you  better." 

Helen  left  the  room  with  the  work  in  her  hand.  Martha 
ceased  her  opposition.  She  felt  that  the  time  had  come 
when  labor  was  no  longer  possible.  She  must  have  rest. 
How  grateful  the  thought  that,  for  a  week,  she  should  be 

22* 


258  HELEN   FORD. 

free  from  the  drudgery  of  the  needle, — that  her  busy  fingers 
might  be  folded  in  idleness,  without  the  troubled  thought 
that  her  bread  depended  upon  her  exertions.  She  lay  back, 
and  a  sense  of  delicious  rest  came  to  her.  She  did  not  try 
to  look  beyond  the  week  of  rest.  That  seemed  a  long  and 
blissful  eternity.  She  was  almost  too  weary  to  think.  The 
sharp  pain  became  less  poignant,  and  at  last  she  fell  asleep. 
She  slept  for  three  hours,  and,  when  she  woke,  it  was  to  see 
the  kind  face  of  Helen  bending  over  her. 

"  How  do  you  feel  now,  Martha? " 

"  Better,  much  better." 

"  Have  you  slept  well  ?  " 

"  Yes,  I  have  slept  nearly  all  the  time  since  you  were 
in  ?    How  long  is  that  ?  " 

"  I  came  in  at  eleven.    It  is  now  nearly  three." 

"Is  it  so  long?" 

"I  thought  you  must  be  hungry,  Martha,  so  I  have  brought 
in  some  chicken-broth  for  you.    I  hope  you  will  like  it." 

"Some  chicken-broth?  O  Helen,  I  am  afraid  you  have 
made  it  on  purpose  for  me." 

"Well,  and  if  I  have?" 

"  I  can't  bear  to  think  I  am  making  you  so  much  trouble." 

"  Then  I  will  relieve  you  by  saying  that  I  didn't  make  it 
expressly  for  you.  Papa  and  I  had  it  for  dinner,  and  papa 
seemed  to  relish  it  amazingly.  I  don't  know  when  he  has 
eaten  so  hearty  a  dinner." 

"  I  am  glad  of  that.  I  think  I  shall  like  it,  too.  The 
smell  of  it  quite  revives  me.    I  will  get  up  immediately." 

"  No,  you  shall  stay  where  you  are.  Wait  a  moment  and 
I  wiU  bring  back  a  pillow  from  our  room.  Then  I  can  prop 
you  up  in  bed,  and  you  shall  eat  in  bed  as  the  French  do. 
Eeally,  Martha,  you  are  getting  to  be  quite  a  fashionable 
lady." 

Martha's  sickness  had  been  the  result  in  part  of  a  lack  c^ 


THB  SLAVE  OF  THE  NEEDLE.  259 

proper  food.  The  chicken-broth  was  relished  as  much  as 
Helen  could  desire. 

"  I  knew  you  would  like  it,  Martha.  Why,  you  are  begin- 
ning to  look  better  already." 

"  I  think  I  shall  be  able  to  go  to  work  to-morrow." 

"  Not  to-morrow,  nor  this  week.  It  will  take  you  at  leasl 
a  week  to  recover." 

"But,  Helen " 

"That  is  the  third  time  you  have  said  'But,  Helen.'  Do 
you  know,  you  unreasonable  creature,  that  I  allow  no  diso- 
bedience? I  have  undertaken  to  cure  you,  and  I  mustn't 
have  you  interfering." 

"  But  it  will  not  take  a  week  for  me  to  get  well." 

"  Don't  tell  me  that.  I  know  the  meaning  of  those  pale 
cheeks.  I  ought  to  have  noticed  them  before.  In  a  few 
days,  when  you  are  strong  enough,  we  will  all  take  an  excur- 
sion together,  that  is,  papa  and  you  and  I,  and  perhaps 
Herbert  —  I  mean  Mr.  Coleman  —  will  go  too.  I  want  to 
see  a  little  color  in  those  cheeks." 

"  How  kind  you  are,  Helen  I "  said  Martha,  gratefully. 

"  Wouldn't  you  be  as  kind  to  me,  if  I  were  sick  instead  of 
you?  tell  me  that,  Martha?" 

"  Yes,  I  hope  I  should." 

"  Then  you  see  there  is  no  reason  for  thanking  me.  I  dare 
say  I  shall  take  a  fancy  to  fall  sick  some  day  when  you  are 
quite  well,  and  call  you  in  to  take  care  of  me.  I  warn  you 
beforehand  that  I  shall  make  a  dreadfully  cross  patient." 

Martha  smiled.  There  was  something  contagious  in 
Helen's  light  heart  and  exuberance  of  cheerfulness.  The 
world  seemed  a  great  deal  brighter  to  her  than  it  had  done  a 
few  hours  before. 

"  Now,  Martha,  as  it  must  be  dreadfully  tiresome  lying 
there  staring  at  that  white-washed  wall,  I  will  tell  you  what 
[  am  going  to  do.    I  was  passing  a  circulating  library  just 


260  HELEN   FOED. 

now,  when  I  thought  I  would  run  in  and  get  something  to 
read  to  you.    Shall  you  like  it  ?  " 

"  Very  much.  It  is  a  long  time  since  I  have  had  a  chance 
to  read  anything." 

"  It  will  interest  me,  too.  If  you  feel  like  it,  I  will  sit 
down,  and  commence  it  now." 

"  I  wish  you  would." 

Helen  drew  a  chair  up  to  the  bedside  and  began  to  read. 

The  book  was  a  work  of  fiction,  the  heroine  one  who  had 
to  struggle  with  life  very  much  as  they  had  done.  It  was 
the  work  of  a  superior  writer,  and  written  with  a  charm  of 
style  that  made  it  additionally  attractive. 

Helen  read  fifty  pages,  when  the  approach  of  evening 
made  it  necessary  for  her  to  pause. 

"I  will  come  in  to-morrow  morning,  and  read  a  little 
while,"  she  said.  '^  Good  night,  Martha.  I  suppose  I  must 
be  getting  ready  for  the  theatre." 

It  was  on  this  evening  that  Mr.  Sharp  had  the  memorable 
interview  with  Lewis  Band,  which  resulted  in  restmng  to 
Helen  and  her  father  a  magnificent  fortune. 


CHAPTER  XL. 

UNCLE   ZEBINA*S    OFFER, 

E[el£N  and  the  young  artist,  who  roomed  opposite,  re- 
mained fast  friends.  From  the  evening  when,  by  a  fortunate 
chance,  he  was  enabled  to  defend  her  from  insult  he  estab- 
lished himself  as  her  evening  escort  from  the  theatre.  These 
daily  walks  enabled  each  better  to  understand  the  other. 
They  became  mutual  confidants.  Helen  indulged  in  san- 
guine anticipations  of  the  success  of  her  father's  invention, — 
anticipations  in  which  the  young  man's  practical  sense  could 
not  permit  him  to  join,  yet  he  was  so  careful  of  Helen's  feel- 
ings, that  he  never,  by  a  word,  sought  to  undermine  her 
perfect  trust  in  her  father's  ability  to  achieve  success. 

Herbert,  too,  had  his  dreams  of  fame  and  fortune.  He 
was  an  enthusiastic  lover  of  his  art.  No  futm'e  seemed  so 
bright  to  him  as  that  in  which  he  figured  himself  an  artist, 
achieving  fame  by  his  works.  Others  might  become  gener- 
als, judges,  statesmen ;  he  desired  nothing  better  than  to  be 
admitted  into  the  confidence  of  Nature,  and  to  become  her 
Jiterpreter. 

Many  were  the  pleasant  conversations  on  art  which  he 
held  with  Helen.  She  looked  up  to  him  with  affectionate 
reverence,  and  believed  in  him  fully.  The  compact  into 
which  they  had  entered,  to  regard  each  other  as  brother  and 
sister,  had  been  faithfully  kept.  Not  seldom  Herbert  was 
an  invited  guest  at  Mr.  Ford's  table.  Helen  presided  on 
such  occasions  with  proud  delight,  and  with  an  assumption 
of  matronly  dignity,  which  lent  her  new  charms  in  the  eyes 

261 


262  HELEN    FORD. 

of  her  father  and  the  young  artist,  who  felt  his  isolation 
relieved  by  admittance  to  the  humble  home  of  the  inventor. 

But  of  late  Helen  perceived  with  some  concern,  not  un- 
mingled  with  surprise,  that  Herbert  had  grown  less  social 
and  communicative.  A  shadow  seemed  to  rest  upon  his 
features.  She  tried  in  gentle  ways  to  lure  him  on  to  talk  of 
himself,  but  without  success.  Something  was  evidently 
troubling  him,  and  she  was  ansdous  to  learn  what  it  was. 

She  was  saved  the  trouble  of  inquiring,  for  the  yoimg 
artist  finally  spoke  himself.  It  was  on  the  evening  of  the 
same  day  that  Margaret  was  taken  sick. 

"My  little  sister,"  said  Herbert,  "you  have  perhaps 
observed  a  change  in  me  within  a  few  days." 

"  Yes,  Herbert ;  I  have  been  afraid  that  you  were  sick  or 
in  trouble,  and  I  wanted  to  ask  you  what  it  was." 

"  I  am  sick,  Helen,  sick  at  heart ;  I  believe  disappoint- 
ment is  harder  to  bear  than  physical  pain,  especially  when, 
as  in  my  case,  it  is  the  disappointment  of  a  long-cherished 
hope.  You  know  how  often  I  have  talked  to  you  about  art, 
and  how  I  longed  to  achieve  name  and  fame  as  an  artist." 

"Yes,  Herbert,  you  surely  have  not  changed  your  mind." 

"Never!"  said  the  young  man,  fervently.  "Never  has 
art  appeared  to  me  so  divinely  beautiful  as  now,  when  I  fear 
I  must  renounce  it.  Never  has  my  longing  to  attain  its 
coveted  rewards  been  stronger.  And  to  think  I  must  give  it 
all  up  after  the  brief  dream  of  enjoyment  in  which  I  have 
indulged,  —  this  is,  indeed,  hard." 

"  But  why,"  said  Helen,  puzzled ;  "  why,  if  you  still  lov<» 
it  as  much  as  ever,  do  you  renounce  it?" 

"My  little  sister,"  said  the  artist,  sadly,  "it  is  money 
that  rules  the  world.  Before  its  sway  we  must  all  bow, 
willing  or  unwilling.  It  is  the  want  of  money  that  drives 
me  to  abandon  that  which  is  the  chief  joy  of  my  life." 

"  But,  Herbert,  can't  you  seU  your  pictures  ?  " 


UNCLE    ZEBINA'S    OFFER.  26S 

"  In  art  it  is  a  crime  to  be  a  young  man.  If  I  were  only 
well  known  I  But  I  look  too  much  like  a  boy.  Don't  think,** 
he  added,  hastily,  "  that  I  consider  this  the  only  imped- 
iment to  my  success.  I  have  doubtless  much,  very  much, 
to  learn.  There  is  great  room  for  improvement,  and  if  I 
could  I  should  be  content  to  work  on  for  years  without 
selling  a  picture,  striving  only  to  improve  myself,  not 
achieving,  but  learning  to  achieve.  Yet  I  have  seen  paint- 
ings sold  for  generous  sums,  on  account  of  the  artist's  name, 
no  better  than  mine." 

"  I  am  sure  your  '  Country  Farm-house '  is  a  beautiful 
painting,"  said  Helen,  enthusiastically.  "  There  must  be  a 
great  many  that  would  like  to  buy  it.*' 

Herbert  smiled  bitterly. 

"  I  tried  to  sell  it,  yesterday,  to  a  dealer.  He  received 
me  coldly,  and  after  inquiring  what  else  I  had  painted 
declined  to  buy  it  on  any  terms.  Another  offered  me  ten 
dollars,  a  little  more  than  the  cost  of  the  frame.  I  had  the 
curiosity  to  inquire  the  price  of  another  painting  which  he 
had  for  sale,  which  I  should  certainly  not  admit  to  be  supe- 
rior to  my  own,  and  was  told  that  it  was  one  hundred  and 
fifty  dollars.  One  hundred  and  fifty  dollars !  if  I  could  only 
realize  that  sum  for  mine,  it  would  enable  me  to  work  six 
months  longer.  But  wishes  are  cheap.  Yesterday  I  decided 
to  give  up  all  my  dreams  of  art,  and  go  back  to  my  country 
home." 

"  O  Herbert,  what  a  pity  1 " 

"  Just  as  I  had  come  to  this  conclusion  I  received  a  letter 
from  an  uncle  of  mine  in  my  native  town,  which  confirmed 
my  resolution.  He  keeps  a  country  store,  partly  grocery, 
partly  dry  goods,  and  wants  an  assistant.  He  writes  that, 
so  far  as  he  can  learn,  I  don't  find  painting  very  profit- 
able, — ^^but  hold,  I  will  read  you  the  letter." 

Pausing  before  a  shop  window,  Herbert  took  from  hi» 


J64  HELEN    FORD. 

pocket  a  letter  inclosed  in  a  coarse  yellow  envelope,  and 
xead  it  as  follows :  — 

"  Deab  Nephew,  — 

"  I  am  in  good  health,  and  hope  you  are  enjoying  the  same 
blessing.  Your  folks  are  pretty  smart.  Your  father  sold 
bis  yearling  calf  last  week,  and  got  a  pretty  good  price  for 
it.  I  expect  you  are  not  making  much  money  by  your  paint- 
ing. I  always  thought  it  a  foolish  piece  of  business  letting 
you  go  into  such  an  uncertain  trade,  and  so  I  told  brother, 
but  he  wouldn't  listen  to  me,  though  I  expect  now  he  is  be- 
ginning to  think  about  as  I  do.  If  it  had  been  house  paint- 
ing now,  there'd  have  been  some  sense  in  that.  There's 
Josiah  Watson  is  making  his  two  dollars  and  a  half  a  day 
straight  along,  and  I  don't  believe  you're  making  a  quar- 
ter of  that.  ('He's  right  there,*  interpolated  Herbert.) 
Now  I'm  going  to  make  you  an  offer,  and  if  you're  wise 
you'll  accept  it.  I'm  getting  old,  and  I  find  my  business 
increasing.  I  need  help  in  the  store,  and  I'd  rather  give 
the  situation  to  one  that's  kin  to  me  than  to  a  stranger, 
especially  as  I  can  trust  you,  and  may  be  I  might  get  de- 
ceived in  another.  I'm  willing  to  pay  thirty-five  dollars  a 
month,  and  more  when  you've  got  a  little  used  to  things,  so 
you  can  move  round  handy.  I  shall  want  you  to  begin 
work  the  first  of  next  month.  That'll  give  you  a  fortnight 
to  settle  up  your  painting  business  in  the  city. 

"  Now,  nephew  Herbert,  I've  made  you  a  fair  offer,  and 
you'll  do  well  to  accept  it.  Your  father  thinks  as  I  do  about 
it;  and  the  folks,  I  know,  will  like  to  have  you  at  home 
again.  I  don't  want  to  make  no  promises,  but  bimeby  I 
may  find  myself  obliged  to  take  a  partner,  and  of  course,  if 
you  give  satisfaction,  as  I've  no  doubt  you  will,  I  sha'n't  be 
very  apt  to  go  out  of  the  family.  I  shall  want  to  hear  from 
you  as  soon  as  you  have  made  up  your  mind.    Tour  aunt 


UNCLE    ZEBINA'S    OFFER.  265 

Desire  sends  her  love,   and  hopes  you  will  come.     She 

would  like  to  have  you  bring  her  a  new  pair  of  spectacles 

from  the  city.     Her  old  pair  got  broken  the  other  day  (  your 

cousin  Mary  stepped  on  them) ,  and  she's  pestered  about 

seeing. 

"Your  uncle, 

"  Zebina  Pratt." 

"A  brilliant  offer,  isn't  it?"  said  the  young  artist.  "I 
am  invited  to  give  up  all  my  high  aspirations,  —  all  my 
dreams  of  artistic  eminence,  —  and  take  my  place  behind  the 
counter  of  a  country-store,  to  weigh  out  tea  and  sugar  for 
Mrs.  Smith  and  IMrs.  Jones,  and  chaffer  with  'Mis.  Thompson 
about  the  extra  half  cent  on  a  yard  of  calico.  And  all  for 
thirty-five  dollars  a  month  I " 

"  The  offer  seems  kindly  meant,"  said  Helen. 

"  Yes,  there  is  no  doubt  of  that.  Uncle  Zebina  is  a  worthy 
and  kind-hearted  man.  I  have  no  doubt  he  thinks  he  is 
consulting  my  best  interests  in  making  me  such  a  proposal. 
And  doubtless  he  is,  so  far  as  his  views  of  life  are  concerned. 
I  should  be  pretty  sure  to  be  admitted  into  partnership  after 
a  while,  and  eventually  to  succeed  my  uncle  in  business.  I 
dare  say  I  should  become  a  thrifty  trader,  be  elected  select- 
man, assessor,  town  clerk,  and  perhaps  in  time  be  elected  to 
a  seat  in  the  legislature.  That  is  not  so  bad,  is  it?  And 
what  has  art  to  offer  me  that  will  outweigh  all  these  advan- 
tages? It  will  gratify  my  aesthetic  tastes ;  it  will  give  me 
that  which  my  soul  craves ;  it  will  open  to  me  a  world  of 
beauty  in  which  I  can  revel ;  but,  alas  !  it  will  not  give  me 
bread.  Helen,  it  is  bread  and  butter  that  must  decide  this 
question.  I  believe  I  must  send  my  uncle  an  affirmative 
answer.  I  must  bid  farewell  to  art,  and  sell  soap  and  sugar. 
What  do  you  advise  ?  " 

There  was  a  bitterness  in  the  young  man's  tone  that  pained 

23 


266  HELEN    FOBD. 

Helen.  Accustomed  to  think  for  her  father,  she  began  to 
think  for  him.  What  would  be  best?  It  was  not  a  question 
to  be  hastily  decided.  Bread  and  butter,  humble  and  pro- 
saic as  it  is,  is  not  to  be  slighted.  Yet  she  was  convinced 
that  Herbert  would  be  very  unhappy  if  transferred  to  his 
uncle's  store. 

"I  don't  know  what  to  say,  Herbert,"  said  Helen,  at 
length.  "  I  want  to  think  it  over.  When  do  you  propose 
to  write  to  your  uncle  ?  " 

"  I  can  wait  till  day  after  to-morrow.** 

"  Then  I  wiU  think  it  over  till  then.  Perhaps,  between  us, 
W6  can  think  of  something  that  will  keep  you  in  the  city. 
I  don't  know  what  I  should  do  without  you.  Next  to  my 
father,  I  should  miss  you." 

"  And  one  of  my  chief  regrets  in  leaving  the  city  would 
be  that  I  must  leave  behind  my  little  sister,"  said  the  young 
artist,  affectionately. 

"  Thank  you,  Herbert ;  goodnight  I " 

«*  Good  night,  Helea." 


CHAPTER  XLI. 

XB.  SHARP  MAKES  AN  IMPORTAIIT  COMMUNICATION. 

Helen  was  engaged  in  rinsing  up  the  breakfast  dishes, 
thinking  busily  meantime  what  could  be  done  for  Herbert, 
when  a  gentle  tap  called  her  to  the  door.  "Wondering  a  little 
at  so  early  a  call,  she  looked  up  to  meet  the  smiling  face  of 
Mr.  Sharp. 

"  Good  morning,  Mr.  Sharp,"  she  said,  politely.  "  Won't 
you  come  in  and  see  papa?  " 

"  Thank  you,  my  dear  Miss  Ford ;  at  the  risk  of  interrupt- 
ing your  respected  father  in  his  valuable  scientific  labors 
I  will  yet  do  so.  I  am  quite  aware  that  I  have  called  at  an 
unseasonable  hour.  I  should  not  have  ventured  to  do  it,  but 
that  I  am  summoned  hither  by  business  of  an  important 
character — business,  which  I  may  venture  to  hope,  will  make 
me  welcome.'* 

"  You  are  welcome,  sir ;  we  are  always  glad  to  see  one 
who  has  shown  himself  a  Mend." 

"  Thank  you,  my  dear  Miss  Ford.  Such  a  testimony  is 
most  grateM  to  my  feelings,  the  more  so  that  I  feel,  so  far 
as  my  intentions  are  concerned,  it  is  not  wholly  undeserved." 

*'  Papa,  Mr.  Sharp  is  here,"  said  Helen,  going  up  to  her 
father,  and  laying  her  hand  lightly  upon  his  shoulder. 

Rousing  at  the  touch,  Mr.  Ford  advanced  and  welcomed 
the  lawyer  cordially. 

"  I  was  just  apologizing  to  your  charming  daughter  for 
(^liog  so  early,"  said  Mr.  Sharp. 


268  HELEN    FORD. 

"There  is  no  occasion  for  tnat,"  said  ISIr.  Ford,  courte- 
ously.    "  We  don't  stand  on  ceremony  with  our  friends." 

"  I  hope  you  will  ever  include  me  in  that  number.  But 
my  call  this  morning  is  of  a  business  character." 

"  Shall  I  leave  the  room,  papa?  " 

"  No,  my  dear,  I  can  have  no  business  in  which  you  are 
not  equally  interested." 

"  By  no  means,  my  dear  Miss  Ford ;  I  particularly  desire 
that  you  should  be  present.  Mr.  Ford,  I  called  on  your 
cousin  Lewis  last  evening." 

"  And  I  suppose  he  renewed  his  offer,"  said  Mr.  Ford^ 
hastily.  "  Tell  him  from  me  that  I  shall  accept  no  pittance  at 
his  hands.  The  only  proposition  to  which  I  shall  listen  is 
one  that  will  surrender  to  me  half  of  my  father's  estate." 

"  He  has  consented  to  such  a  surrender,"  said  JVIr.  Sharp. 

"My  cousin  has  consented  to  yield  me  one  half  the 
estate ! "  exclaimed  Mr.  Ford,  overwhelmed  with  astonish- 
ment. 

Helen  di'ew  near,  and  listened  intently,  half  believing  she 
"was  dreaming. 

"  Read  this,"  said  the  lawyer,  showing  the  document  lie 
had  extorted  from  the  fears  of  Lewis  Rand. 

"  Can  this  be  genuine  ?  '* 

"  There  can  be  no  doubt  of  that.  Mr.  Rand  signed  it  in 
my  presence." 

"  But  I  cannot  account  for  such  a  change  in  him." 

"  I  can,"  said  Mr.  Sharp,  smiling.  "  Indeed,  I  may  say 
that  it  is  entirely  owing  to  my  persuasions  that  the  change 
is  due." 

"  You  have,  indeed,  been  a  friend,"  said  Mr.  Ford,  grasp- 
ing his  hand,  warmly ;  "  but  I  am  still  at  a  loss " 

"  To  understand  the  secret  of  my  influence  ?  " 

"Yes." 

"  I  will  not  conceal  from  you  that  your  cousin  acted  very 


ME.  sharp's  communication.  26^ 

mucn  against  his  wUl ;  but  I  employed  an  argument  whidb 
he  found  it  impossible  to  resist." 

"And  that  was " 

"  A  police  officer,  and  a  warrant  for  his  arrest." 

"  Have  you  arrested  Lewis?" 

"No,  I  only  used  these  in  terrorem.  Threatening  breaks 
no  bones,  but  sometimes  serves  a  useful  purpose,  as  in  this 
case.  Not  to  keep  you  in  suspense,  however,  a  singular  and 
unexpected  chance  threw  in  my  way  the  proofs  of  your 
cousin's  comiDlicity  in  a  forged  will  by  which  he  holds  the 
estate.  Acting  as  your  imauthorized  agent,  yet  feeling  sure 
that  you  would  give  me  a  warrant  for  my  proceedings,  I 
brought  these  to  bear  upon  him,  but  agreed  in  your  name  to 
stay  further  proceedings  against  him  if  he  would  quietly  yield 
to  you  one  half  of  all  the  property  left  by  your  late  father. 
Was  I  right  in  making  this  agreement  ?  " 

"  Quite  so.  I  have  no  desire  to  subject  my  cousin  to  any 
legal  penalties.  It  is  enough  that  he  has  done  me  tardy 
justice.  But  how  shall  I  thank  you,  Mr.  Sharp,  for  your 
friendly  and  disinterested  service  ?  " 

"  My  dear  Mr.  Ford,"  said  I^Ir.  Sharp,  with  effusion,  "  I 
feel  abundantly  repaid  in  having  been  the  humble  agent  of 
restoring  to  you  and  my  charming  young  friend,  Miss  Helen, 
that  property  which  rightfully  belongs  to  you.  Yet,  if  you 
desire  to  acknowledge  in  any  way  the  obligation,  I  will  sug- 
gest that  you  will  probably  require  a  man  of  business,  to 
undertake  the  charge  of  your  large  property.  I  believe  I 
am  right  in  asserting  that  you  will  not  desire  so  far  to  inter- 
rupt your  scientific  pursuits,  for  the  petty  details  of  busi- 
ness, to  which  an  inferior  capacity  can  equally  well  attend. 
Should  you  so  far  honor  me  with  your  confidence,  as  to 
Intrust  that  business  to  my  charge,  to  select  me,  in  fact,  as 
your  lawyer  and  man  of  business,  I  trust  I  shall  do  all  that 
is  possible  to  any  one  to  promote  your  interests." 

2*» 


270  HELBN   FORD. 

"  Mr.  Sharp,"  said  Mr.  Ford,  "  if  you  will  undertake  that 
office,  I  shall  regard  it  as  a  fresh  kindness  on  your  part. 
You  are  well  aware  that  I  have  little  business  capacity. 
The  accession  of  wealth  I  shall  not  permit  materially  to 
interfere  with  my  scientific  pursuits.  Indeed,  it  is  partly 
because  it  will  facilitate  them,  that  I  am  thankful  for  this 
change  in  my  circumstances.  Let  me  add,  that  I  shall  desire 
to  compensate  your  services  liberally." 

"  Thank  you,"  said  Mr.  Sharp,  with  feeling ;  "  I  feel 
grateful  for  this  mark  of  your  confidence.  I  will  not  hesi- 
tate even  to  accept  the  compensation  to  which  you  so  deli- 
cately allude,  and  trust  I  shall  be  able  to  show  you  that  I 
am  sensible  of  the  great  privilege  of  being  admitted  to  your 
friendship." 

"  Mr.  Sharp,"  said  Helen,  thoughtfully,  "  can  you  give 
me  any  idea  of  the  value  of  the  property  which  has  come  to 
papa?" 

"  I  cannot,  of  course,  give  you  any  definite  statement,  my 
dear  Miss  Ford.  From  investigations  I  have  made,  how- 
ever, I  can  assure  you  that  it  will  exceed  half  a  million  dol- 
lars." 

"  I  am  so  glad,"  exclaimed  Helen,  looking  quite  radiant. 

"  Why,  Helen,"  said  her  father,  roused  into  surprise ;  "  I 
had  no  idea  you  were  grown  so  fond  of  money  I " 

"  It  is  because  of  the  good  we  can  do  with  so  much,  papa. 
Indeed,  I  want  to  dispose  of  some  at  once." 

"  Speak,  Helen.  It  must  be  a  large  favor  that  I  would  not 
grant  you." 

"  But  this  is  a  hundred  and  fifty  dollars,  papa." 

"Half  an  hour  since  that  would  have  seemed  a  large 
sum  to  me,  Helen ;  now,  I  believe  I  can  afford  it.  Tell  me 
what  use  you  wish  to  make  of  it." 

"You  know  Herbert  Coleman,  papa,  the  young  artist 
opposite." 


MR.  sharp's  communication.  271 

"  A  very  gentlemanly  young  man.     "Well,  my  dear  ?  " 

"  He  is  in  great  trouble.  His  money  is  exhausted,  and 
because  he  is  so .  young  and  unknown,  he  cannot  sell  his  pic- 
ture. He  has  had  an  offer  from  his  uncle  to  go  into  a 
country  store  to  sell  groceries,  and  fears  he  must  abandon 
art  and  accept  this  offer,  for  want  of  money  to  keep  him 
here  in  New  York.  He  told  me  last  evening  that  if  he  could 
only  sell  his  picture  —  you  have  seen  it,  papa :  the  *  County 
Farm-house,*  you  know  —  for  a  hundred  and  fifty  dollaxs,  he 
could  remain  in  the  city  six  months  longer." 

"  And  you  want  me  to  buy  the  picture,  Helen?" 

"  Yes,  papa." 

"  Very  well,  but  I  have  not  so  much  ready  money.  I  do 
not  understand  such  things.  Mr.  Sharp  will  know  whether 
there  will  be  any  delay  in  coming  into  possession  of  this 
property." 

"  Very  little,  sir,  since  there  is  no  opposition  to  fear  from 
the  opposite  party.    In  the  course  of  a  few  days " 

"  But  he  has  got  to  decide  to-day,"  said  Helen. 

"  K  he  is  sure  of  a  sale,  however,  he  will  wait  for  the 
money,"  suggested  the  lawyer. 

"  But  there  is  one  thing,"  said  Helen.  "  I  don't  want 
Herbert  to  know  just  at  first  that  it  is  we  who  have  bought 
his  picture." 

"  Leave  that  to  me,"  said  Mr.  Sharp.  "  I  can  tell  him 
that  I  have  a  commission  from  a  Mend  to  purchase  for  him, 
without  mentioning  names,  you  know." 

"  Yes,  that  will  be  just  the  thing,"  said  HJelen,  well  satis- 
fied.    "  Will  you  go  in  now  ?  " 

"  By  all  means,  if  you  desire  it." 

"  And  I  want  to  go  with  you,"  said  Helen.  "  I  want  to 
see  how  delighted  he  will  look  when  he  finds  his  picture  is 
bought.  Only  please  don't  tell  him  just  yet  that  we  are 
rich,  papa  and  I." 


272  HXLSK    FOBD. 

"  Be  assured,  my  dear  Miss  Ford,  I  will  respect  youi 
wishes,"  said  Mr.  Sharp,  bowing.  "  Indeed,  I  honor  you 
for  your  kind  and  generous  desire  to  assist  your  struggling 
friends." 

"  I  think,  Mr.  Sharp,"  said  Mr.  Ford,  quietly,  "  that  I 
will  authorize  you  to  pay  Mr.  Coleman  two  hundred  dollars 
for  his  picture,  and  to  order  of  him  another  at  the  same 
price,  the  subject  to  be  entirely  of  his  own  selection.  Do 
you  approve,  Helen  ?  " 

**  Approve,  papa?  You  are  the  dearest  of  all  papas.  You 
have  made  me  very  happy." 

"  My  dear  child,"  said  her  father,  affectionately,  "  I  feel 
that  I  ought  to  do  what  I  can  to  make  you  happy.  You 
have  been  my  joy  and  comfort,  and  latterly  my  support,  in 
the  days  of  my  poverty.  Henceforth,  it  shall  be  mine  to 
gratify  you  in  all  your  reasonable  desires." 

"  Papa,  you  embolden  me  to  ask  another  favor." 

"Well,  Helen?" 

"  I  will  tell  you  by  and  by.  Now,  Mr.  Sharp,  let  us  go 
and  see  Herbert." 

"  Herbert  is  a  fortunate  young  man,"  thought  the  lawyer. 
"  He  seems  in  favor  with  both  father  and  daughter.  If 
Helen  were  a  little  older,  who  can  tell  what  would  come  of 
It,    It  will  be  worth  my  while  to  be  polite  to  the  young 


CHAPTER  XLH. 

HOW  YES  BECAME  KO. 

Herbebt  Coleman  had  finished  his  scanty  and  unsatis- 
tying  breakfast,  and  was  seated  before  his  easel,  on  which 
was  an  unfinished  picture.  He  gazed  at  it  mournfully,  for 
the  conviction  was  deepening  in  his  mind  that  he  must  bid 
farewell  to  art.  Chosen  mistress  of  his  affections,  she  had 
treated  him  but  coldly.  She  had  admitted  him  to  the 
threshold  of  her  domain.  He  was  permitted  to  view  the 
glories  in  which  he  must  not  share.  A  career  was  opened 
before  him,  which  it  would  have  been  his  highest  happiness 
to  follow,  —  in  which  he  could  see  others  making  their  way 
successfully ;  but  Necessity,  with  stem  and  forbidding  coun- 
tenance, waved  him  back  as  with  a  sword. 

Yes,  he  must  bid  farewell  to  art.  At  the  age  of  twenty- 
one,  he  felt  that  the  happiness  of  his  life  was  over.  Hence- 
forth, he  must  cherish  in  his  heart  aspirations  which  he 
would  never  be  able  to  realize.  He  must  descend  from  the 
clouds,  and  plod  on  in  the  prosaic  way  in  which  his  uncle, 
with  more  common  tastes,  had  found  happiness  and  prosper- 
ity. But  the  transition  from  art  to  groceries  was  indeed 
great.  Yet  there  seemed  no  alternation.  If  it  were  possible 
to  find  emplojrment  for  a  part  of  the  day,  suflScient  to  defray 
expenses  reduced  to  the  lowest  amount  compatible  with 
health,  that  would  be  preferable.  But  this  was  uncertain, 
and,  meanwhile,  his  purse  was  almost  empty, 

"  I  might  as  well  accept  my  uncle's  offer,  at  once,"  he 
taid,  to  himself,  despondently,    "  Nothing  is  likely  to  turn 

278 


274  HELEN    FORD. 

up  in  twenty-four  hours  to  affect  my  decision.  Come,  I  will 
write  the  letter  now,  and  not  mail  it  till  to-morrow." 

Feeling  that  his  mind  would  be  relieved  by  taking  a 
decisive  step,  he  opened  his  desk,  and,  taking  out  a  sheet  of 
note-paper,  had  got  as  far  as  '^  Dear  Uncle,"  when  there  was 
a  little  tap  at  his  door.  He  rose,  and,  opening  it,  discov- 
ered Helen  and  Mr.  Sharp. 

"  Good  morning,  Helen,"  he  said,  cheered,  he  knew  not 
why,  by  her  expression ;  "I  am  glad  to  see  you." 

"  Herbert,  you  have  heard  me  speak  of  Mr.  Sharp,  papa's 
friend.    He  desires  to  make  your  acquaintance." 

"  I  am  very  glad  to  meet  you,  Mr.  Sharp,"  said  the 
young  artist,  looking  a  little  curiously  at  the  perpetual 
white  hat,  whose  general  appearance  age  had,  by  no  means, 
improved. 

"Thank  you,  Mr.  Herbert,"  said  the  lawyer,  nodding 
pleasantly.  "  Excuse  my  familiar  use  of  your  name,  but 
Miss  Helen  has  not  mentioned  any  other." 

"  Mr.  Coleman,  excuse  me,"  said  Helen,  blushing  a  little. 
"  How  stupid  I  am  I " 

"  By  no  means,  my  dear  young  lady.  But,  Mr.  Coleman, 
Miss  Helen  has  told  me  that  you  were  an  artist,  and  her 
commendations  of  one  of  your  pictures  have  excited  my 
interest ;  and  I  have  come  to  ask,  as  a  favor,  that  you  will 
allow  me  to  look  at  it." 

"  Certainly,  sir.  I  am  afraid,  however,  that  you  will  find 
Miss  Helen's  friendship  has  dulled  her  critical  powers. 
This  is  probably  the  painting  to  which  you  refer." 

In  a  moment  of  despondency,  he  had  turned  his  painting 
of  the  "  Country  Farm-house  "  to  the  wall.  The  high  hopes 
which  he  had  formed  of  its  success,  and  their  signal  failure, 
produced  a  revulsion  of  feeling,  which  made  it  unpleasant 
for  him  to  look  at  it. 

"  This  is  indeed  beautiful  I "  exclaimed  Mr.  Sharp,  admir- 


HOW  TES  BECAME  NO  275 

ingly.  (In  this  case  he  was  sincere,  though,  had  it  been  the 
merest  daub,  he  would  have  expressed  equal  admiration.) 
"  Mr.  Coleman,  I  congratulate  you.  There  are  touches  in 
that  painting  which  iudicate  genius  of  a  high  order.  I 
predict  that  you  will,  ere  many  years,  achieve  a  high  place 
in  the  roll  of  our  native  artists." 

Herbert  smiled  sadly,  and  glanced  significantly  at  Helen. 
This  praise,  coming  at  a  time  when  he  had  resolved  to  cut 
adrift  from  the  profession  of  his  love,  was  a  source  of 
pain  rather  than  pleasure.  He  felt  the  more  that  it  would 
be  a  fatal  mistake,  but,  nevertheless,  one  that  seemed  in- 
evitable. 

Helen's  expression  perplexed  him.  It  was  one  of  quiet 
happiaess.  Yet  she  must  know  the  necessity  that  was  upon 
him. 

"  I  like  this  painting,"  continued  the  lawyer,  "  chiefly 
because  of  its  truth  to  nature.  The  highest  praise  I  can 
give  it  is  that  I  have  seen  precisely  such  a  farm-house.  The 
scene  is  one  familiar  to  those  who  know  anything  of  coun- 
try-life. May  I  inquire,  Mr.  Coleman,  whether  this  paint- 
ing is  for  sale  ?  " 

"  Yes,  sir,"  said  Herbert,  brightening  up  a  little,  though 
he  hardly  judged,  from  Mr.  Sharp's  appearance,  that  he  was 
likely  to  become  a  patron  of  art.  "  Young  artists  cannot 
afford  to  keep  their  works  on  hand.  I  may  add,  frankly, 
that  my  circumstances  are  such  that  I  shall  be  very  glad  to 
find  a  purchaser." 

"I  don't  ask  in  my  own  behalf,"  said  Mr.  Sharp. 
"Though  I  am  passionately  fond  of  fine  paintings,  my 
means  are  restricted,  and  my  professional  income  will  not 
permit  me  to  indulge  in  such  luxuries.  But  I  am  author- 
ized by  one  of  my  clients,  to  purchase  him  a  painting.  He 
confides  implicitly  to  my  taste.  May  I  inquire  what  price 
you  set  upon  this  painting?  " 


27d  HELEN   FOBD. 

The  young  artist's  face  brightened  up  with  new-born  hope. 
Perhaps  he  might  be  able  to  send  a  negative  answer  to  his 
ancle,  after  all. 

"Should  you  consider  fifty  dollars  too  large?"  he  said, 
hesitatingly,  fearing  lest  it  might  exceed  Mr.  Sharp's  limit. 

"  Fifty  dollars,  Mr.  Coleman  1  You  surely  cannot  be  in 
earnest." 

"I  am  a  young  artist,"  stammered  Herbert,  "  and,  per- 
haps, may  have  set  too  high  a  value  upon  my  work.  You 
shall  have  it  at  your  own  price." 

"  "  You  mistake  me,  my  young  friend,  if  you  will  permit 
me  to  call  you  so.  I  was  only  surprised  at  the  lowness  of 
your  price.  My  friend  has  authorized  me  to  pay  two  hun- 
dred dollars  for  such  a  work  as  my  taste  approves.  I  shall 
not  think  of  offering  you  less  for  this  beautiful  painting." 

"Two  hundred  dollars!"  exclaimed  Herbert,  in  joyful 
excitement.     "  Are  you  really  in  earnest  ?  " 

"  Most  unquestionably." 

"I  am  very  grateful  to  you,  sir;  you  can't  understand 
how  great  a  service  you  have  rendered  me,"  said  Herbert, 
grasping  Mr.  Sharp's  hand,  and  wringing  it  with  cordial 
energy.  "  Just  as  you  came  in  I  was  on  the  point  of  writ- 
ing a  letter,  accepting  a  proposition  which  would  cut  me  off 
forever  from  my  favorite  work." 

"  You  won't  write  it,  now,  Herbert?  "  said  Helen,  archly. 

"  I  shall  write  a  different  letter,  Helen.  Once  more,  Mr. 
Sharp,  let  me  thank  you." 

"  I  do  not  deserve  your  thanks.  Some  day  I  will  intro- 
duce you  to  the  real  purchaser  of  the  painting.  Meanwhile, 
I  have  a  commision  for  you.  I  am  authorized,  by  my  friend, 
to  order  another  picture  at  the  same  price.  Will  youundei> 
take  it?" 

"  Most  willingly ;  most  grateftdly." 


HOW  TE3  BECAME  NO. 


277 


"  The  subject  shall  be  left  to  your  own  taste  and  judg- 
ment." 

"  I  hope  to  deserve  this  generous  confidence." 

"  Perhaps,  Herbert,  you  would  rather  go  into  your  uncle's 
store,"  said  Helen,  smiling  happily. 

"  I  am  afraid  Uncle  Zebina  must  look  elsewhere  for  an 
assistant,"  said  the  young  artist.  "  I  must  not  forget,  dew 
Helen,  that  my  good  fortune  comes  through  you." 

"  You  have  been  very  kind  to  me,  Herbert.  I  hope  I 
shall  be  able  to  do  more  for  you  hereafter." 

"  I  regret,  Mr.  Coleman,"  said  the  lawyer,  "  that  I  am 
unable  to  pay  you  this  morning  for  your  painting.  I  hope 
to  be  able  to  pay  you  next  week." 

"  That  will  be  quite  satisfactory,  sir." 

"  Meanwhile,  as  one  who  understands  the  world  a  little 
better  than  yourself,  to  suggest  that,  if  your  painting  could 
be  on  exhibition  a  few  days,  —  at  Goupil's,  for  instance,  — 
with  the  name  of  the  artist,  and  the  label,  '  Sold,'  it  might 
be  of  assistance  to  you.  It  will  give  the  impression  that 
your  works  are  in  demand." 

"A  most  excellent  suggestion,  for  which  I  thank  you. 
If  your  friend  would  be  willing?  " 

"  I  undertake  to  engage  that  there  will  be  no  objection. 
Depend  upon  it,  my  young  friend,  there  is  nothing  succeeds 
so  well  as  success." 

"  You  may  be  sure,  sir,  that  I  appreciate  your  friendly 
feeling  no  less  than  the  liberal  patronage  I  have  received 
through  you.  You  have  probably  determmed  my  future." 
"  That  will  be  a  source  of  proud  satisfaction  to  me,  Mr. 
Coleman,"  said  the  lawyer.  "  Let  me  suggest  that  you  lose 
no  time  in  making  an  arrangement  to  exhibit  your  painting, 
as  proposed.    It  might  do  no  harm  to  affix  the  price  for 

which  it  was  sold." 
u 


278  HELEN   FORD. 

"  Thank  you,  sir.  It  is  well  thought  of.  I  shall  certainly 
adopt  your  suggestion." 

"I  believe  I  must  now  bid  you  good  morning,"  said  the 
lawyer.  "  I  hare  important  business  on  hand,  and  have 
been  beguiled  already  into  remaining  here  too  long.  Good 
morning,  Miss  Helen.  I  shall  take  a  very  early  opportunity 
to  call  again  upon  you  and  your  worthy  father.  You  will 
hear  from  me  before  long,  Mr.  Coleman,  in  a  way  that  will, 
I  trust,  prove  satisfactory  to  you." 

Mr.  Sharp  bowed  his  way  down  stairs,  leaving  two  happy 
hearts  behind  him.  He,  too,  was  in  excellent  spirits.  As 
Mr.  Ford's  man  of  business,  he  would  be  liberally  paid,  and 
no  longer  be  reduced  to  those  shifts  to  which,  in  times  past, 
he  iiad  been  compelled  to  resort,  for  the  purpose  of  "  get- 
ting along." 

Helen  lingered  a  moment  after  the  lawyer  departed. 
"  Now  to  finish  Uncle  Zebina's  letter,"  said  Herbert,  briskly. 
'*  It  will  be  a  letter  different  from  what  I  anticipated." 

The  letter  ran  as  follows :  — 

"  Dear  Uncle  Zebina  :  I  thank  you  for  your  very  kind 
oflTer,  though  I  shall  be  unable  to  accept  it.  I  feel  that  I 
shall  be  happier  as  an  artist,  than  I  could  be  in  any  other 
vocation.  I  am  confident  that  you  will  have  no  difficulty  in 
securing  an  assistant  who  will  suit  you  better  than  I  should 
do.  Give  my  love  to  aunt  Desire.  Tell  her  and  all  my 
Mends  that  I  hope  to  see  them  all  at  Thanksgiving. 
"  Your  affectionate  nephew, 

"Herbert  Coleman. 

•*  P.  S.  I  have  just  sold  a  painting  for  two  hundred  dok 
lars,  and  have  an  order  for  another  at  the  same  price." 


HOW  TES    BECAME   NO.  279 

This  letter,  it  may  be  remarked,  more  especially  the  post- 
script, made  quite  a  sensation  in  Herbert's  country  home ; 
snd  Uncle  Zebtua  allowed  that  perhaps  Herbert  was  doing 
better,  after  all,  than  if  he  had  become  a  house  painter. 


CHAPTEB  XLm. 

MABTHA.  GKET  13   SURPRISED. 

Lewis  EAin>  submitted  to  what  was  inevitable,  ftnd^  as 
air.  Sharp  predicted,  interposed  no  obstacles  in  the  waj-  of 
a  division  of  the  property.  He  chose  to  retain  id  his  own 
share  the  house  and  furniture  of  the  late  Mr.  Rand,  foresee- 
ing that  the  house  would  rise  annually  in  value.  The  re- 
mainder of  the  property  consisted  partly  of  real  estate,  but 
mainly  of  stocks  and  bonds.  This  rendered  the  division 
easy.  At  the  end  of  ten  days,  Mr.  Sharp  was  in  a  situation 
to  deliver  to  his  client  the  title  to  three  houses  situated  in 
different  parts  of  the  city,  and  a  quarter  of  a  million  in  bank 
and  railway  shares. 

Until  matters  were  concluded,  Helen  desired  that  the 
fact  of  their  good  fortune  should  be  kept  strictly  private. 
Neither  Martha  nor  Herbert  suspected  that  their  humble 
neighbors  had  fallen  heirs  to  a  princely  fortune. 

One  of  the  three  houses  referred  to  was  situated  in 
Twenty-second  Street.  It  was  nearly  new,  and  thoroughly 
furnished.  Fortimately,  it  had  just  been  vacated  by  a  family 
on  the  point  of  visiting  Europe  for  a  series  of  years.  B^ 
Mr.  Sharp's  advice,  negotiations,  for  the  purchase  of  the 
furniture  were  entered  into  and  satisfactorily  completed. 
To  this  house  Helen  and  her  father  proposed  to  remove. 

Thanks  to  Helen's  good  care,  and  the  rest  which  she  so 
much  needed,  Martha  Grey  had  quite  recovered  from  the 
attack  brought  on  by  excessive  labor.  She  was  anxious  to 
resxune  work,  but  Helen  had  succeeded  in  putting  her  off 

S80 


UASTRA.  OBET   IS   SUBPBISED.  281 

"I  shall  certainly  begin  to-morrow,"  said  Martha,  one 
evening.  **I  cannot  consent  longer  to  remain  a  burden 
npon  you." 

"  But  if  I  were  rich,"  said  Helen,  with  a  smile. 

"  That  would  be  different." 

**  Well,  Martha,  I  may  become  rich  some  day." 

"  I  hope  you  will,  my  dear  child." 

"  But  you  don't  expect  it.  Yet  stranger  things  have  hap- 
pened. Now,  Martha,  I  have  a  promise  to  exact  of  you. 
When  I  am  rich,  will  you  come  and  live  with  me?" 

Martha  smiled. 

"  Yes,  Helen,  when  you  are  rich,  I  will  come  and  live  with 
you." 

*<  Mind  you  don't  forget  your  promise.  I  may  remind  yon 
of  it  some  day." 

"  Poor  child ! "  thought  Martha.  "  She  means,  when  her 
father  has  completed  his  invention.  I  am  afraid  it  will  be  & 
long  time  before  that  will  bring  her  a  fortune." 

The  next  morning,  Martha  was  sitting  in  her  little  rock- 
ing-chair, busy  at  her  sewing,  when  Helen  came  in  with  ft 
smile. 

"  Put  down  that  sewing  directly,  Martha,"  she  said.  "  I 
have  another  plan  for  to-day." 

"  But,  my  dear  child,  1  must  disobey  you  this  time.  It  is 
quite  time  that  I  was  again  at  work." 

"You  can  put  off  your  sewing  for  a  couple  of  hours. 
Mr.  Sharp  has  been  kind  enough  to  invite  you  and  papa  and 
myself  to  take  a  ride." 

"  He  is  very  kind,"  said  Martha.  "  I  don't  know  why  he 
should  think  of  me." 

"Perhaps  he  thought  it  would  do  you  good.  He  knew 
you  had  been  sick." 

"But  1  have  nothing  fit  to  wear." 

"Am  I  very  richly  dressed?" 

34* 


282  HELEN   FOBD. 

"No,  but " 

"No  objections,  Martha.  Get  your  bonnet  and  shawl 
directly." 

It  was  a  beautiful  morning,  —  an  Indian  summer  day,  — 
the  air  balmy  and  sweet  as  a  day  in  early  June.  The  seam- 
stress yielded  not  unwillingly  to  the  solicitations  of  Helen, 
and  was  quickly  dressed  for  the  drive. 

Mr.  Sharp  was  waiting  below  with  a  carriage. 

"  Good  morning,  Miss  Grey,"  he  said,  with  his  usual 
suavity ;  "  I  am  truly  glad  to  see  that  you  have  recovered 
from  your  illness.  You  are  a  little  pale  yet,  but  I  hope  we 
shall  succeed  in  bringing  back  the  roses  to  your  cheek." 

"  I  am  very  much  obliged  to  you  for  kindly  remembering 
me,  Mr.  Sharp,"  said  Martha.  "It  is  a  charming  day.  1 
assure  you  I  shall  enjoy  the  drive." 

"  It  seems  to  me,"  thought  M'Ue  Fanchette,  looking  from 
her  window,  "  that  the  Fords  are  growing  extravagant. 
Such  airs  as  that  child  puts  on,  merely  because  she  sings 
in  a  theatre!  and  bless  my  soul,  there's  the  seamstress, 
Martha  Grey,  too  I  She'd  better  be  at  work.  There's  the 
lawyer,  too.  It  can't  be  possible  he  is  paying  attentions  to 
Helen  Ford.  No,  she's  too  young  for  that.  Or  is  it 
Martha  Grey?  K  it's  she,  I  don't  admii-e  his  taste,  that's 
all.  She  is  most  an  old  woman,  and  never  had  any  beauty 
to  boast  of.  (Martha  was  three  years  younger  than  M'lle 
Fanchette.)  Well,  well,  its  a  queer  world.  That  Helen 
may  lose  her  situation  by  and  by,  —  I'm  sure,  I  don't  think 
much  of  her  singing,  —  and  then  we  sha'n't  have  such  gay 
doings." 

By  this  time  the  carriage  had  driven  away,  and  M'lle 
Fanchette  prepared  to  go  to  her  shop. 

Our  party  did  not  at  once  drive  to  Twenty-second  street, 
but  farther  up  on  the  island,  through  that  portion  of  the 
dty,  then  wholly  unsettled,  which  is  now  occupied  by  the 


MAETHA   GREY   IS   SURPRISED.  283 

Central  Park.  It  was  a  charming  morning.  Helen  was  in 
the  best  of  spirits,  and  even  Mr.  Ford  forgot,  for  the  time, 
his  invention,  and  drank  in  the  sweet  influences  of  the  day. 
To  Martha,  confined  in  her  room  for  so  long,  whose  only 
prcspect  had  been  the  brick  wall  opposite,  it  seemed  ike  a 
dream  of  Paradise.  Memories  of  her  childhood  came  back 
to  her,  and  her  eyes  involuntarily  filled  with  tears  as  she 
thought  of  that  sweet,  unforgotten  time.  Mr.  Sharp  was  in 
excellent  spirits,  livelier,  and  more  affable  even  than  usual, 
and  kept  up  the  spirits  of  the  party  by  his  jocular  remarks. 

At  length  the  carriage  stopped. 

The  driver  jumped  from  his  seat,  and  threw  open  the  door 
of  the  carriage. 

"We  haven't  got  home?"  said  Martha,  a  little  bewil 
dered. 

"  Oh,  I  forgot  to  tell  you,'*  said  Helen ;  "  Mr.  Sharp  has 
invited  us  to  look  over  a  house  which  he  has  just  secured  for 
some  friends  of  his." 

"  What  a  handsome  house  I  "  said  Martha.  "  They  must 
be  rich  people." 

"  Yes,"  said  Mr.  Sharp,  with  an  incomprehensible  smile, 
"  I  assure  you  that  they  are  quite  rich." 

"They  wouldn't  object  to  our  visit?"  asked  Martha,  tim- 
idly. 

"  O  no,  not  at  all.  In  fact  they  gave  me  permission  to 
bring  you  here." 

By  this  time  they  had  entered  the  hall,  and  went  in  first  to 
inspect  the  parlors.  These  were  furnished  in  the  style  ap- 
propriate to  such  a  house.  To  Martha,  who  had  never  before 
entered  a  house  of  such  pretensions,  it  seemed  very  magnif- 
icent, and  even  palatial. 

After  they  had  examined  the  rooms  on  the  lower  floor 
they  went  up  stairs.  The  chambers  were  furnished  with 
equal  taste.    Helen  felt  that  it  would  take  some  time  to  get  ao^ 


284  HELEN   FOBD. 

customed  to  such  a  style  of  living  after  her  humble  lodgings 
at  Mother  Morton's. 

"I  like  this  room  very  much,"  said  Martha.  It  was  a 
broad,  spacious  chamber  with  a  sunny  aspect,  very  pleasant 
and  home-like  in  its  appearance. 

"  You  would  be  willing  to  give  up  your  room  at  Mrs, 
Morton's  if  you  could  have  this  ?  "  inquired  Helen. 

"  If  I  could  have  as  agreeable  neighbors,"  said  Martha, 
with  a  smile. 

"  Very  well,"  said  Helen,  "  I  will  take  you  at  your  word. 
You  shall  occupy  this  room." 

"  What  do  you  mean,  Helen  ?  "  asked  Martha,  in  surprise, 

"  I  mean  that  it  only  depends  upon  your  own  consent  to 
exchange  your  present  room  for  this." 

"  I  don't  understand,"  said  Martha,  bewildered. 

"  Then  I  will  explain.  The  mistress  of  this  house,  who  is 
a  friend  of  Mr.  Sharp,  is  desirous  of  securing  a  companion  ^ 
and  will  take  you  if  you  will  come." 

"  Perhaps  she  may  not  like  me." 

"  I  think  there  is  no  doubt  on  that  point ;  do  you  papa?  " 

"  No,  I  believe  not,"  said  Mr.  Ford. 

"Then  you  wiU  consent,  Martha.  You  will  be  secure 
against  want,  and  will  have  every  comfort  provided  you." 

"It  will  be  great  good  fortune  for  me,"  said  Martha, 
"But  I  cannot  bear  the  thought  of  being  separated  from 
you,  Helen." 

"  You  may  learn  to  like  the  lady  I  refer  to  as  weU  as  me.'* 

"  Never  I "  said  Martha,  with  emphasis. 

"  Make  no  rash  promises,"  said  Helen,  "  I  shall  be  very 
much  disappointed  if  you  do  not." 

"  K I  could  see  this  lady." 

"  So  you  shaU.    You  will  find  her  in  the  next  room.** 

More  mystified  than  ever,  Martha  accompanied  Helen  into 
the  next  room.    There  was  a  large  pier  glass  extending 


MABTHA  6BET  IS   SUBPBISED.  265 

from  floor  to  ceiling.    Helen  led  the  seamstress  up  to  it,  and 
standing  beside  her  said,  "  There,  Martha,  there  is  the  lady 
who  invites  you  to  be  her  companion." 
'  "  But  I  see  only  yourself." 

"  Well,  and  I  am  the  one,"  said  Helen,  smiling. 

Then  Helen  explained  to  her  astonished  and  delighted 
auditor  the  great  change  that  had  taken  place  in  her  circum- 
stances. No  longer  obliged  to  toil  for  her  daily  bread,  she 
would  henceforth  live  in  affluence. 

"  God  has  been  very  good  to  us,  Martha,"  she  said,  in 
conclusion.  "  I  hope  we  shall  not  forget,  in  the  happiness 
of  the  present,  the  poverty  of  the  past.  I  hope  we  shall  use 
His  gift  as  He  would  have  us." 

"  Dear  Helen,  I  am  sure  you  will." 

"  And  you  will  come  and  live  with  me?  I  should  be  very 
lonely  in  this  large  house  without  a  friend  to  lean  upon. 
Dear  Martha,  it  shall  not  be  my  fault  if  your  future  is  not 
as  sunny  as  your  past  has  been  dark." 

"  How  much  happiness  I  shall  owe  you  I "  said  Martha, 
with  grateful  tears. 

"Hush,  Martha,"  said  Helen,  softly.  "Do  not  thank 
me,  for  my  happiness  will  be  no  less." 

That  evening  the  household  at  Mother  Morton's  was 
electrified  by  the  announcement  that  Helen  Ford  had  turned 
out  a  great  heiress,  and  that  Martha  Grey  was  going  to 
live  with  her.  On  the  morrow  Helen  and  her  father  trans- 
ferred their  home  from  their  humble  lodgings  to  Twenty- 
second  Street. 

"  If  I  had  only  known,"  thought  M*lle  Fanchette,  regret- 
folly,  "I  might  have  been  in  that  sickly  Martha  Grey's 
place.  But  who  could  ever  have  imagined  that  Helen  Ford 
would  turn  out  a  rich  woman?   Well,  it's  too  late  now!" 

And  M'Ue  Fanchette  had  to  content  herself  with  this 
philosophical  reflection. 


CHAPTER  XLIV 

HELEN  TAKES  LEAVE  OP  THE  STAGE. 

The  next  morning  Helen,  on  reaching  the  theatre,  sought 
the  presence  of  Mr.  Bowers. 

The  manager  was  seated  in  his  oflBce,  as  nsual.  He  nodded 
carelessly  as  Helen  entered,  but  did  not  invite  her  to  be 
seated. 

"  Well,  Miss  Ford,"  he  said,  after  a  while.  "  What  can  I 
do  for  you,  this  morning  ?  " 

"  I  should  like  to  have  you  release  me  from  my  engage- 
ment,   if  you  please,  Mr.  Bowers." 

"  Release  you  from  your  engagement !  "  ejaculated  the 
astonished  manager.  Then,  in  a  tone  of  indignation,  "  I  sup- 
pose you  have  had  a  larger  offer  elsewhere." 

"  No,  sir." 

"What  can  be  your  motive,  then?  I  beg  you  to  under- 
stand, Miss  Ford,  that  a  contract  is  a  contract,  and  must  be 
kept.  Of  course  your  place  could  be  supplied,  but  it  is 
annoying  to  make  a  change  in  the  middle  of  the  season." 

This  last  remark  was  thrown  in,  lest  Helen  should  pre- 
sume upon  her  value  to  the  establishment  to  demand  a 
higher  salary.  Indeed,  the  manager  suspected  that  this  wag 
her  object,  and  wished  to  anticipate  her. 

"  I  was  afraid  it  might  inconvenience  you,"  said  Helen, 
gently ;  "  and  am  willing,  in  requital,  to  refund  the  whole 
amount  of  wages  that  I  have  received  from  you." 

Mr.  Bowers  stared  at  Helen  in  undisguised  astomshmenti 

886 


HELEN  TAKES  LEAVE  OF  THE  STAGE.         287 

She  must  have  had  a  very  brilliant  offer  to  warrant  her  Ib 
making  such  a  proposal. 

"  Did  I  understand  that  you  have  had  no  other  engage- 
ment offered  you  ?  "  he  inquired,  abruptly. 

"  No,  sii\     I  do  not  wish  to  sing  any  more  in  public'* 

*'  It  will  pay  you  better  than  anything  else  you  can  do,^ 

"  I  ought  to  explain  that  I  have  had  a  fortune  left  me,  or 
rather  papa  has,  and  under  our  new  circumstances  it  would 
be  inconvenient  for  me  to  come  to  the  theatre  every  even- 
ing." 

"  Indeed,  Miss  Ford  I  "  said  Mr.  Bowers,  his  tone  chang- 
ing. "  I  congratulate  you.  I  hope,  for  your  sake,  it  is  a 
large  fortune." 

"  Mr.  Sharp  teUs  me  that  it  will  be  a  few  hundred  thousand 
dollars,"  said  Helen,  simply,  without  the  least  trace  of  exul- 
tation in  her  tone. 

"  A  few  hundred  thousand  dollars !  "  exclaimed  Mr.  Bow- 
ers, in  profound  astonishment.  "  Pray,  take  a  seat,  my  dear 
Miss  Ford.  Hang  my  stupidity,  why  didn't  I  think  to  offer 
vou  one  before  ?  " 

And  Mr.  Bowers  bustled  about,  and  offered  Helen  a 
seat  with  as  much  deference  as  if  she  were  a  duchess.  It 
was  easy  to  see  that  she  had  risen  immeasurably  in  his 
estimation. 

"Did  the  property  come  from  a  relation?"  he  asked. 

"  Yes,  sir ;  from  my  grandfather." 

"  Was  his  name  the  same  with  yours,  Miss  Ford?" 

*'  No,  sir.    His  name  was  Rand." 

"  Not  the  late  Gerald  Rand?" 

*' Yes,  sir." 

"  Why  he  was  one  of  our  most  substantial  citizens  —  lived 
on  Fifth  Avenue.  And  to  think  I  should  have  had  his 
granddaughter  singing  in  my  theatre  I  Well,  wonders  will 
never  cease." 


288  HELEN    FORD. 

"  If  it  wouldn't  inconvenience  you  too  much  to  release 
me,"  said  Helen,  returning  to  her  petition  ;  "  I  lilte  to  be  with 
papa  in  the  evening.     He  is  lonely  without  me." 

"  By  all  means.  Miss  Ford,  I  would  oblige  you  even  were 
the  inconvenience  ten  times  as  great,"  said  Mr.  Bowers,  ob- 
sequiously. 

"Thank  you,  sir;  you  are  very  kind.  I  shall  be  willing 
to  sing  for  you  the  rest  of  the  week,  so  as  to  give  you  time 
to  find  some  one  to  fill  my  place." 

"Will  you?"  asked  the  manager,  eagerly,  seeing  at  once 
how  he  might  turn  Helen's  accession  of  fortune  to  profitable 
account ;  "  you  will  indeed  confer  a  gi-eat  favor  upon  me  by 
so  doing.  It  will  take  me  some  time  to  fill  your  place,  and 
I  cannot  hope  to  obtain  a  substitute  who  will  become  such  a 
favorite  with  the  public." 

"  Thank  you,  sir,"  said  Helen,  rising  to  go.  "  Then  I 
will  go  to  rehearsal." 

"  Thank  you  rather,  my  dear  Miss  Ford,"  said  the  man- 
ager, rising  from  his  seat  and  opening  the  door  for  her.  "  I 
shall  not  forget  your  kindness." 

Helen  could  not  help  wondering  a  little  at  the  change  in 
the  manager's  manner,  and,  unversed  as  she  was  in  the  ways 
of  the  world,  she  could  not  help  seeing  that  it  was  the  result 
of  her  change  of  circumstances. 

Meanwhile  the  manager  was  not  idle.  The  morning  pa- 
pers contained  the  following  paragraph,  the  authorship  of 
which  may  at  least  be  suspected. 

RoiiANCE  IN  Real  Life.  We  understand  that  Miss  Helen 
Ford,  the  young  vocalist  whose  charming  melodies  have  iiis.de 
her  such  a  popular  favorite,  has  just  come  into  possession 
of  a  splendid  fortune,  inherited  from  her  grandfather,  Gerald 
Band,  Esq.,  the  well-known  capitalist,  whose  death  was  re- 
cently  noticed   in   our    columns.     Miss  Ford   has  kin^ 


HELEN  TAKES   LEAVE   OP   THE    STAGE.  288 

agreed  to  sing  as  usual  through  the  present  week,  when  she 
will  leave  the  stage  forever." 

The  effect  of  this  paragraph  may  be  imagined.  That 
evening  hundreds  were  turned  away  from  the  theatre,  which 
was  crowded  to  its  utmost  capacity.  Never  had  such  an 
audience  been  seen  within  its  walls.  When  Helen  appeared 
on  the  stage,  quite  unaware  of  the  paragraph  which  had  pro- 
duced this  effect,  she  was  received  with  long-continued  ap- 
plause. The  vast  audience  seemed  inspired  with  a  sudden 
enthusiasm. 

Helen  was  surprised,  but  did  not  lose  her  self-possession. 
She  sang  with  her  usual  sweetness,  and  was  immediately  en- 
cored. Again  she  sang,  and  this  time  was  called  before  the 
curtain.  Several  bouquets  were  thrown  her,  which  she  pick- 
ed up,  and  hastily  withdrew. 

If  Helen  had  been  older,  she  would  have  understood  the 
meaning  of  this  ovation.     As  it  was,  she  only  wondered. 

Behind  the  curtain  she  met  the  manager,  smiling,  and  rub- 
bing his  hands  in  evident  glee. 

"  My  dear  Miss  Ford,"  he  said,  "  this  is  indeed  a  triumph." 

*'  The  house  is  very  fiiU,"  said  Helen. 

"  And  Ldndreds  turned  away ;  never  was  such  a  house 
seen." 

"  I  am  very  glad  of  it,"  said  Helen. 

"  So  am  I ;  let  me  see,  this  is  Tuesday  evening.  Friday 
you  shaU  have  a  benefit.  One  third  of  the  receipts.  It  is 
only  fair,  since  you  have  drawn  this  immense  audience." 

Helen  would  have  declined  the  offer,  but  for  a  sudden 
thought.  When  she  first  became  connected  with  the  theatre 
she  noticed  a  thin  fragile  girl,  who  danced  between  the  plays. 
The  exertion  was  evidently  too  great  for  her,  for  she  was 
often  seized  with  a  violent  fit  of  coughing  after  withdrawing 
from  the  stage.     For  a  fortnight  Helen  had  missed  her.    On 

2£ 


290  HELEN    TORD. 

inquiry,  she  learned  that  Alice  (this  was  her  name)  was  sick* 
"  Poor  girl,"  added  the  prompter,  who  was  her  informant, 
"  it  is  a  great  misfortune,  for  she  has  an  invalid  sister  who  is 
dependent  upon  her  for  support.  I  am  afraid  she  won't  get 
along  very  well,  for  her  salary  was  small,  and  now  it  is  cut 
off  altogether." 

It  occurred  to  Helen  that  she  could  give  the  proceeds  of 
her  benefit  to  Alice.  She  accordingly  thanked  Mr.  Bowers, 
and  accepted  his  proposal. 

The  week  was  a  series  of  triumphs.  Every  evening  the 
doors  of  the  theatre  were  besieged,  and  every  evening  hun- 
dreds were  turned  away. 

Friday  evening, — the  evening  of  her  benefit, — Helen 
found  the  house  fuller,  if  possible,  than  before,  the  manager 
had  taken  the  opportunity,  in  consequence  of  the  great  de- 
mand for  seats,  to  raise  temporarily  the  price  of  admission. 
As  he  anticipated,  this  did  not  in  the  least  diminish  the 
throngs  who  crowded  for  admittance. 

On  Saturday  morning  he  handed  Helen  a  check  for  five 
hundred  dollars,  as  her  share  of  the  proceeds. 

Helen's  eyes  sparkled  with  joy,  as  she  thought  of  the  hap- 
piness which  this  sum  would  bring  to  the  poor  ballet  girl. 

She  lost  no  time  in  seeking  her  out. 

It  was  indeed  a  poor  place,  Helen  would  have  been  afraid 
of  venturing  into  such  a  locality  if  she  had  not  been  accom- 
panied by  Herbert  Coleman. 

Up  a  rickety  staircase  she  climbed,  and  was  shown,  by 
an  untidy  woman,  into  a  room  wholly  destitute  of  comforts, 
where  on  a  pallet  reclined  Alice  and  her  sister,  both  sick. 

"  Is  that  you.  Miss  Ford  ?  "  asked  Alice,  her  face  lighting 
up.     "  How  very  kind  you  are  to  come  and  see  me  1 " 

"  I  am  very  sorry  to  find  you  so  sick,"  said  Helen. 

"  I  don't  think  I  am  very  sick,"  said  Alice.     "  But  this  is 


HELEN  TAKES   LEAVE   OF   THE    STAGE.  291 

but  a  poor  place,  and  I  cannot  get  any  one  to  take  care  of 
my  sister  Jennie.     She  has  been  an  invalid  for  years." 

"  There  are  better  times  in  store,"  said  Helen,  cheerfully. 

"  First  we  must  have  you  moved  to  a  better  room.  Next 
you  must  have  a  nursG  ,'* 

"  But,"  said  Alice,  hesitatingly,  "  we  are  very  poor.  I 
never  had  anything  but  my  salary  to  depend  upon,  and  now 
that  is  cut  off." 

Helen  stooped  and  whispered  a  few  words  in  her  ear. 

"  Five  hundred  dollars !  "  repeated  Alice,  in  astonishment, 
*'  that  is  a  fortune.     Who  has  been  so  generous  ?  " 

"  Never  mind ! "  said  Helen,  smiling.  "  You  see,  then,  that 
you  are  not  so  poor  as  you  imagined.  Now  do  you  think,  if 
I  sent  a  carriage  for  you  in  the  course  of  the  afternoon,  you 
can  move  ?  " 

"  Yes,"  said  Alice,  in  a  tone  of  deep  thankfulness.  "  No 
one  can  tell  how  much  I  detest  this  horrible  place.  I  think 
it  will  make  me  well  only  to  move." 

Over  the  wasted  face  of  her  sister  there  stole  an  expression 
of  deep  and  thankful  joy. 

"  I  think  you  are  an  angel,"  she  said,  looking  up  into 
Helen's  beautiful  face,  radiant  with  sympathy. 

Helen  blushed. 

"  How  pleasant  it  is  to  be  able  to  make  others  happy  I  ** 
she  said,  softly,  to  Herbert. 

"  Do  you  know,  Helen,"  said  the  young  artist,  "  I  am  half 
tempted  to  agree  with  your  patient  there." 

"  Brother  Herbert,"  said  Helen,  quickly,  "  you  tnust  not 
•peak  so.  I  am  only  doing  what  you  would  do  in  my  place.  I 
don't  like  to  be  praised  for  only  doing  what  is  pleasant  to  me.** 

Before  night  Alice  and  her  sister  were  installed  in  a  com- 
fortably-furnished room,  with  a  nurse  in  attendance,  who 
was  directed  to  do  whatever  was  needfiil  for  the  comfort  and 
relief  of  her  patients. 


CHAPTER  XLr. 

TO   CONCLUDE. 

FotTR  years  slipped  by. 

Let  us  note,  briefly,  the  changes  which  they  brought,  and 
then  farewell  I 

To  Helen  they  were  years  of  quiet  happuiess,  of  steady 
improvement.  There  were  many  deficiencies  in  her  educa- 
tion to  be  made  up.  With  the  aid  of  private  instructors, 
the  best  of  their  kind,  she  strove  earnestly  to  acquire  the 
knowledge  for  which  she  had  long  thirsted.  Her  father  was 
unwilling  to  send  her  away  to  school,  since  this  must  de- 
prive him  of  her  society,  on  which  he  had  learned  to  depend. 
Nor  was  Helen  less  unwilling  to  leave  the  father  who  had 
called  forth  from  her  so  rare  and  beautiful  a  devotion.  Year 
by  year  her  mind  has  expanded,  while  her  rare  loveliness 
has,  if  possible,  been  enhanced.  Helen,  at  nineteen,  is  even 
more  charming  than  at  fifteen. 

There  are  some  who  have  found  this  out,  and  Helen  has 
had  repeated  oflfers  of  marriage.  All  these  she  has  gently 
but  firmly  refused.  Not  one  has  succeeded  in  touching  her 
heart. 

Among  her  suitors  was  one  whom  she  treated  with  less 
ceremony.  A  young  man,  who  had  nearly  run  through  a 
large  fortune,  paid  assiduous  court  to  Helen,  whom  he  had 
met  in  society,  and  in  spite  of  her  coldness  made  a  declara- 
tion of  love. 

Helen  looked  up  from  the  carpet  on  which  her  eyes  had 

202 


TO   CONCLUDE.  893 

been  fixed,  and  said,  quietly,  "Do  you  remember,  Mr. 
Grover,  where  we  first  met?" 

"  At  Mrs.  Grosvenor's  party,"  ansrwered  the  young  man, 
somewhat  surprised. 

"  You  are  mistaken.  That  was  only  three  months  since. 
Our  first  meeting  dates  back  four  years." 

"  Thank  you  for  remembering  it.  Yet  I  can  hardly  be- 
lieve you  correct.  Your  face  is  not  one  to  be  forgotten. 
Are  you  quite  sure  ?  " 

"  Yes,  I  remember  you  perfectly." 

There  was  something  in  Helen's  manner  which  the  young 
man  could  not  quite  fathom.  It  made  him  uneasy,  for 
Helen's  grave  tone  rendered  it  doubtful  whether  the  recol- 
lection was  a  pleasant  one. 

"  May  I  ask  where,  and  under  what  circumstances,  we 
met?"  he  inquired. 

"  I  was,  at  that  time,  singing  at  the Theatre,"  re- 
turned Helen,  composedly.  "  You  followed  me  in  the 
street  when  on  my  return  home,  and  sought  to  force  your 
company  upon  me.  But  for  the  opportune  arrival  of  a 
Mend,  I  should  have  been  obliged  to  submit  to  the  insult." 

"  Good  heavens  !  "  ejaculated  Albert  Grover,  **  are  you 
the  young  singer  who  made  such  a  sensation?  I  cannot 
understand  it." 

"  Fortunes  have  changed  with  me,"  said  Helen.  "  Other- 
wise, I  can  well  understand  that  you  would  never  have  hon- 
ored me  with  your  proposal  of  this  morning.  I  think,  Mr* 
Grover,  you  will  hardly  require  any  other  answer." 

She  left  the  room  with  dignity,  leaving  her  suitor  crest- 
fallen, and  entirely  satisfied  of  the  hopelessness  of  his  suit. 

Meanwhile,  where  was  Herbert  Coleman? 

Shortly  after  Mr.  Ford's  accession  to  fortune,  he  sent  for 
the  young  artist  at  Helen's  instigation,  and  questioned  him 
delicately  as  to  his  plans  and  wishes.     Herbert  acknowl- 

26* 


294  HELEN    FORD. 

edged  frankly  his  conviction,  that  a  residence  in  Italy,  the 
cradle  of  art,  would  be  of  inestimable  advantage  to  him  in 
Ms  professional  career. 

**  I  have  thought  of  that,"  said  Mr.  Ford,  and  as  Provi- 
dence has  blessed  me  with  abundant  means  I  have  deter- 
mined to  enable  you  to  gratify  your  desire.  I  do  not  wish 
to  compromise  your  independence,  and  therefore  I  will  not 
offer  to  give  you  the  requisite  sum.  I  should  be  glad  to  have 
copies  of  some  of  the  masterpieces  of  Italian  art.  I  am 
willing  to  invest  five  thousand  dollars  in  this  way.  I  will 
give  you  the  eommission.  This  will  enable  you  to  spend 
three  years  abroad.  Here  is  a  check  for  a  thousand  dollars. 
The  balance  I  authorize  you  to  draw  upon  me  for  as  you 
need  it." 

"  Sir,"  said  Herbert,  with  joyful  emotion,  "  your  generos- 
ity overwhelms  me.  I  cannot  express  to  you  how  happy 
you  have  made  me.  I  hope  that  I  shall  prove  deserving  of 
such  kindness." 

"  You  must  thank  Helen,"  said  Mr.  Ford.  "  She  sug- 
gested this  to  me  ;  though  I  think  she  will  do  me  the  justice  to 
acknowledge  that  she  did  not  find  me  very  difficult  to  per- 
suade." 

"  Dear  Helen,"  said  the  young  artist,  turning  to  the  young 
girl  whose  beaming  face  expressed  how  heartily  she  sympa- 
thized in  his  joy,  "  I  am  not  surprised  to  hear  this.  It  is 
so  like  you." 

"Don't  say  any  more,  Herbert,"  said  Helen,  softly, 
"That  repays  me." 

Herbert's  residence  in  Italy  has  been  protracted  somewhat 
l)eyond  the  three  years  originally  intended.  He  has  already 
sent  home  several  paintings,  originals,  as  well  as  copies, 
which  prove  conclusively  that  he  has  not  mistaken  his  voca- 
Mon.  He  has  corresponded  regularly  with  Helen,  and  she 
is  eagerly  expecting  his  return  in  the  next  steamer.    They 


TO   CONCLUDE.  -  295 

have  tacitly  dropped  the  old  designations  of  brother  and 
sister.  Knowing  what  we  do  of  their  feelings  towards  each 
other,  we  need  not  be  surprised  if  they  are  bound  some  day 
by  a  nearer  tie.  Mr.  Ford,  I  am  assured,  will  interpose  no 
objection,  feeling  that  genius  and  nobility  of  soul  far  out- 
weigh the  mere  accident  of  riches. 

Mr.  Ford  has  long  since  given  up  his  invention  as  im- 
practicable. He  has  gathered  about  him  a  rich  library  in 
which  he  spends  the  hours  formerly  given  to  science.  A 
year  since  he  laid  out  the  plan  of  a  large  work  in  the  depart- 
ment of  mechanics  upon  which  he  is  hard  at  work.  It  will 
probably  require  some  years  to  complete  it. 

]yir.  Sharp  still  acts  as  the  business  agent  of  Mr.  Ford, 
and  through  his  influence  has  obtained  other  business,  so 
that  he  is  now  in  receipt  of  a  very  comfortable  income. 
Justice  compels  me  to  state  that  in  spite  of  his  not  very 
creditable  antecedents,  he  serves  Mr.  Ford  with  ability  and 
fidelity,  and  exhibits  a  good  judgment  in  his  management 
of  money  matters,  which  perhaps  could  hardly  have  been 
expected.  He  is  not  entii'ely  rid  of  his  "  idiosyncrasies," 
but  these  are  now  of  a  harmless  nature.  He  no  longer  runs 
€ip  bills  which  he  is  unable  to  liquidate,  and  has  ceased  to 
exercise  his  professional  sharpness  on  the  newsboys. 

Martha  Grey  still  finds  a  home  with  Helen,  and  is  her 
tried  and  confidential  friend.  She  is  no  longer  obliged  to 
labor  hard  for  a  scanty  remuneration.  Her  "  lines  have  fall- 
en in  pleasant  places."  Privation  and  discomfort  have 
been  succeeded  by  ease  and  luxury.  A  month  since  she  was 
surprised  by  a  proposal  of  marriage  from  Mr.  Sharp.  She 
refused  him  gently,  telling  him  that  she  should  never  marry. 
i  do  not  think  she  will.  She  has  never  recovered  from  an 
early  disappointment,  which,  without  robbing  her  of  happi- 
ness, has  made  it  impossible  for  her  to  love  again.  Mr. 
Sharp  has  resigned  himself  to  his  rejection  with  commend- 


296  HELEN    FOBD. 

able  philosophy.  There  is  reason  to  believe  thau  ne  was 
actuated  less  by  a  romantic  attachment,  than  by  the  thought 
that  Martha,  as  the  intimate  friend  of  Helen,  would  not 
come  to  him  a  portionless  bride.  He  has  already  so  far 
recovered  from  his  disappointment,  that  he  is  paying  devoted 
attentions  to  a  wealthy  widow,  who  seems  disposed  to  smile 
upon  his  suit,  whose  "idiosyncrasies"  of  temper  are  such, 
that  success  would  indeed  be  disastrous.  I  have  had  some 
qualms  of  conscience,  in  rewarding  Mr.  Sharp  with  such  a 
measure  of  worldly  prosperity,  feeling  that  he  ought  rather 
to  have  been  punished  than  recompensed ;  but  if  he  should 
persevere  in  his  present  suit,  and  eventually  succeed,  I  feel 
that  the  sternest  advocate  of  "poetical  justice"  may  well 
be  satisfied. 

Mrs.  Morton  still  keeps  her  boarding-house,  and  still 
meets  with  a  fair  share  of  patronage.  Helen  occasionally 
calls  upon  her.  She  has  not  forgotten  her  kindness  in  the 
days  when  she  stood  in  need  of  a  friend.  M'lle  Fanchette 
is  still  one  of  her  lodgers.  She  does  not  grow  old,  having 
been  twenty-seven  for  the  last  fifteen  years.  She  brings  her 
charms  to  bear  upon  each  successive  lodger  whom  she  re- 
gards as  eligible,  but  no  one  has  yet  had  the  courage  to  pro- 
pose. There  is  reason  to  believe  that  she  will  remain  Made- 
moiselle to  the  end  of  this  chapter. 

Margaret  and  Jacob  Wynne  !  I  name  Margaret  first,  for 
hers  is  the  nobler  nature.  Jacob's  brief  imprisonment  had 
a  most  salutary  influence  upon  him.  He  no  longer  upbraids 
without  reason,  nor  arouses  her  quick  jealousy  by  his  neg- 
lect. Mr  Ford  (after  all  we  prefer  the  old  name)  throws 
considerable  business  into  his  hands,  and  this,  with  what  he 
obtains  from  other  quarters,  gives  him  a  comfortable  sup- 
port. It  would  be  difficult  to  recognize  in  Margaret,  with 
her  quiet  look,  and  subdued  demeanor,  the  wild,  wayward, 


TO  CONCLUDE.  297 

desperate  woman,  wlio  made  her  way  through  the  fierce 
storm  to  her  mother's  dwelling. 

Immediately  after  the  division  of  the  estate,  Lewis  Rand 
went  to  Europe,  where  he  has  remained  ever  since.  His 
feelings  are  so  imbittered  against  his  cousin,  that  he  has 
refused  ta  answer  a  letter  containing  overtures  of  reconcilia^ 
tion.  He  makes  his  head-quarters  at  Paris,  where  he  lives 
in  elegant  style,  and  receives  the  homage  which  wealth 
always  commands.  But  does  he  find  in  his  riches  the  full 
satisfaction  which  he  anticipated  ?  I  answer,  no.  He  finds, 
too  late,  that  happiness  must  be  earned ;  it  can  never  be 
bought.  To  those  who,  like  Helen,  consecrate  their  lives 
to  the  noblest  objects,  and  study  to  promote  the  happiness 
of  all  around  them,  the  blessing  comes  unsought.  For  the 
love  that  stimulates  to  good  deeds,  is  like  mercy  "  twice 
blest ;  it  blesseth  him  that  gives  and  him  that  takes." 

And  so,  reader,  farewell  I  What  remains  in  store  for 
Helen  Ford,  whether  of  joy  or  of  sorrow,  it  is  not  mine  to 
read.  Let  us  hope  that  her  life  may  brighten  continually 
till  its  close ;  that  her  years,  whether  few  or  many,  may  be 
made  happy  by  the  consciousness  of  duty  well  performed ; 
that  she  may  dispense  liberally  unto  others  of  the  good  gifts 
with  which  God  has  crowned  her,  and  make  her  life  a  bene^ 
Section  to  humanity  I 


HORATIO  ALGER,  JR. 


The  enormous  sales  of  the  books  of  Horatio  Algety 
Jr.,  show  the  greatness  of  his  popularity  among  the 
boys,  and  prove  that  he  is  one  of  their  most  favored 
writers.  I  am  told  that  more  than  half  a  million  copies 
altogether  have  been  sold,  and  that  all  the  large  circu- 
lating libraries  in  the  country  have  several  complete 
sets,  of  which  only  two  or  three  volumes  are  ever 
on  the  shelves  at  one  time.  If  this  is  true,  what  thou- 
sands and  thousands  of  boys  have  read  and  are  reading 
Mr.  Alger's  books!  His  peculiar  style  of  stories,  often 
imitated  but  never  equaled,  have  taken  a  hold  upon  the 
young  people,  and,  despite  their  similarity,  are  eagerly 
read  as  soon  as  they  appear. 

Mr.  Alger  became  famous  with  the  publication  of 
that  undying  book,  "Ragged  Dick,  or  Street  Life  in  New 
York."  It  was  his  first  book  for  young  people,  and  its 
tsuccess  was  so  great  that  he  immediately  devoted  him- 
self to  that  kind  of  writing.  It  was  a  new  and  fertile 
field  for  a  writer  then,  and  Mr.  Alger's  treatment  of  it 
at  once  caught  the  fancy  of  the  boys.  "Ragged  Dick" 
first  appeared  in  1868,  and  ever  since  then  it  has  been 
selling  steadily,  until  now  it  is  estimated  that  about 
200,000  copies  of  the  series  have  been  sold. 

— "Pleasant  Hours  for  Boys  and  Girls." 


A  writer  for  boys  should  have  an  abundant  sym- 
pathy with  them.  He  should  be  able  to  enter  into  their 
plans,  hopes,  and  aspirations.  He  should  learn  to  look 
upon  life  as  they  do.  Boys  object  to  be  written  down  to. 
A  boy's  heart  opens  to  the  man  or  writer  who  under- 
stands him. 
«— From  "Writing  Stories  for  Boys,"  by  Horatio  Alger,  Jr. 


RAGGED  DICK  SERIES. 
6  vols.  By  Horatio  Alger,  Jr.  $S.OO 

Eagged  Dick.  Rough  and  Ready. 

Fame  and  Fortune.  Ben  the  Luggage  Boy. 

Mark  the  Match  Boy.  Rufus  and  Rose. 

TATTERED  TOM  SERIES— First   Series. 
4  vols.  By  Horatio  Alger,  Jr.  |4.0# 

Tattered  Tom.  Phil  the  Fiddler, 

Paul  the  Peddler.  Slow  and  Sure. 

TATTERED  TOM  SERIES— Second  Series. 

4  vols.  $4.00 

Julius.  Sam's  Chance. 

The  Young  Outlaw.  The  Telegraph  Boy, 

CAMPAIGN  SERIES. 

5  vols.  By  Horatio  Alger,  Jr.  $3.00 

Frank's  Campaign.  Charlie  Codman's  Cruise. 

Paul  Prescott's  Charge. 

LUCK  AND  PLUCK  SERIES— First  Series. 
4  vols.  By  Horatio  Alger,  Jr.  $4.00 

Luck  and  Pluck.  Strong  and  Steady. 

Sink  or  Swim.  Strive  and  Succeed. 

LUCK  AND  PLUCK  SERIES— Second  Series. 
4  vols.  $4.00 

.  Try  and  Trust  Risen  from  the  Ranks. 

Bound  to  Rise.  Herbert  Carter's  Legacy. 

BRAVE  AND  BOLD  SERIES. 
4  vols.  By  Horatio  Alger,  Jr.  $4.0(1 

Brave  and  Bold.  Shifting  for  Himself. 

Jack's  Ward.  Wait  and  Hope. 

COMPLETE  CATALOG  OF  BEST    BOOKS    FOR    BOYS    AMD   GIRt.$ 
MAILED   ON    APPLICATION    TO   THE    PUBLISHERS 

THE  JOHN  C.  WINSTON  CO..  PHILADELPHIA 


VICTORY  SERIES. 
8  vols.  By  Horatio  Alger,  Jp.  $3.00 

Only  an  Irish  Boy.  Adrift  in  the  City. 

Victor  Vane,  or  the  Young  Secretary. 

FRANK  AND   FEARLESS  SERIES. 
3  vols.  By  Horatio  Alger,  Jr.  $3.00 

Prank  Hunter's  Peril.  Frank  and  Fearless. 

The  Young  Salesman, 

GOOD  FORTUNE  LIBRARY.     , 
3  vols.  By  Horatio  Alger,  Jr.  $3.(K>| 

Walter  Sherwood's  Probation.    A  Boy's  Fortune. 
The  Young  Bank  Messenger. 

HOW  TO  RISE  LIBRARY. 
3  vols.  By  Horatio  Alger,  Jr.  $3.00 

Jed,  the  Poorhouse  Boy.       Rupert's  Ambition. 
Lester's  Luck. 

COMPLETE  CATALOG  OF  BEST    BOOKS    FOR    BOYS    AND   QIRL8 
MAILED   ON    APPLICATION    TO   THE   PUBLISHERS 

THE  JOHN  C.  WmSTON  CO..  PHILADELPHIA 


TH5  JOHN   C.   WINSTON   CO/S    POPULAR   JXJVENII^S. 


J.  T.  TROWBRIDGE* 

NKITHER  as  a  writer  does  he  stand  apart  from  tiie  greafc 
currents  of  life  and  select  some  exceptional  phase  or  odd 
combination  of  circumstances.  He  stands  on  the  common 
level  and  appeals  to  the  universal  heart,  and  all  that  he  sug- 
gests or  achieves  is  on  the  plane  and  in  the  line  of  march  of 
the  great  body  of  humanity. 

The  Jack  Hazard  series  of  stories,  published  in  the  late 
Our  Young  Folks,  and  continued  in  the  first  volume  of  St. 
Nicholas,  under  the  title  of  "Fast  Friends,"  is  no  doubt 
destined  to  hold  a  high  place  in  this  class  of  literature.  The 
delight  of  the  boys  in  them  (and  of  their  seniors,  too)  is 
well  founded.  They  go  to  the  right  spot  every  time.  Trow- 
bridge knows  the  heart  of  a  boy  like  a  book,  and  the  heart 
of  a  man,  too,  and  he  has  laid  them  both  open  in  these  books 
in  a  most  successful  manner.  Apart  from  the  qualities  that 
render  the  series  so  attractive  to  all  young  readers,  they 
liave  great  value  on  account  of  their  portraitures  of  American 
country  life  and  character.  The  drawing  is  wonderfully 
accurate,  and  as  spirited  as  it  is  true.  The  constable,  Sel- 
lick,  is  an  original  character,  and  as  minor  figures  where  will. 
we  find  anything  better  than  Miss  Wansey,  and  Mr.  P.  Pip- 
kin, Esq.  The  picture  of  Mr.  Dink's  school,  too,  is  capital, 
and  where  else  in  fiction  is  there  a  better  nick-name  than 
that  the  boys  gave  to  poor  little  Stephen  Treadwell,  "Step 
Hen,"  as  he  himself  pronounced  his  name  in  an  unfortunate 
moment  when  he  saw  it  in  print  for  the  first  time  in  his  les- 
son in  school. 

On  the  whole,  these  books  are  very  satisfactory,  and 
afford  the  critical  reader  the  rare  pleasure  of  the  works  that 
are  just  adequate,  that  easily  fulfill  themselves  and  accom- 
plish  all  they  set  out  to  do. — Scrih'ner's  Monthly* 


THE  JOHN  C.  WINSTON  CO.'S  POPULAR  JUVENILES. 
JACK  HAZARD  SERIES. 

6  vols.  By  J.  T.  TROWBRIDGE  $7.2$ 

^ck  Hazard  and  His  Fortunes      Doing  His  Best. 
The  Young  Surveyor.  A  Chance  for  Himself, 

Fast  Friends.  Lawrence's  Adventures. 

CHARLES  ASBURY  STEPHENS. 

"This  author  wrote  his  * 'Camping  Out  Series"  attheverj 
height  of  his  mental  and  physical  powers. 

"We  do  not  wonder  at  the  popularity  of  these  hooks ;  there 
Is  a  freshness  and  variety  about  them,  and  an  enthusiasm  in 
the  description  of  sport  and  adventure,  which  even  the  older 
folk  can  hardly  fail  to  share." — Worcester  Spy. 

"The  author  of  the  Camping  Out  Series  is  entitled  to  rank 
as  decidedly  at  the  head  of  what  may  he  called  hoys'  litera- 
ture."— Buffalo  Courier. 

CAMPING  OUT  SERIES. 

By  C.  A.  STEPHENS. 
All  books  in  this  series  are  12mo.  with  eight  full  page  illustra* 
tions.    Cloth,  extra,  75  cents. 

Camping  Out.     As  Recorded  by  "  Kit.'* 

"This  hook  is  bright,  breezy,  wholesome,  instructive,  and 
stands  above  the  ordinary  boys'  books  of  the  day  by  a  whole 
head  and  shoulders." — The  Christian  Register,  Boston. 

Left  on  Labrador;  or,  The  Cruise  of  the  Schooner  Yacht 

•'Curlew.'*     As  Recorded  by  'Wash." 

"The    perils    of    the    voyagers,    the    narrow    escapes,    their 

strange  expedients,  and  the  fun  and  jollity  when  danger  had 

passed,   will   make  boys   even  unconscious   of  hunger." — New 

Bedford  Mercury. 

Off  to  the  Geysers;  or  The  Young  Yachters  in  Iceland.    As 
Recorded  by  "Wade." 
"It  is  difficult,  to  believe  that  Wade  and  Read  and  Kit  and 
Wash    were    not    live    boys,    sailng   up    Hudson    Straits,    and 
reigning  temporarily   over   an    Esquimaux   tribe." — The  Inde- 
pendent, New  York. 

Lynx  Hunting:  From  Notes  by  the  Author  of  * 'Camping  Out." 
"Of  first  quality  as  a  boys'  book,  and  fit  to  take  its  place 
beside  the  best.--" — Richmond  Enguirer. 

fox  Hunting.    As  Recorded  by  "Raed." 

"The  most  spirited  and  entertaining  book  that  has  as  yet 
appeared.  It  overflows  with  incident,  and  is  characterized 
by  dash  and  brilliancy  throughout." — Boston  Gazette. 

On  the  Amazon;  or,  the  Cruise  of  the  "Rambler."    Ai 
Recorded  by  "Wash." 
"Gives  vivid  pictures  of  Brazilian  adventure  and  scenery.** 
= — Buffalo  Courier, 


THE     RENOWNED     STANDARD    JUVENILES 

BY  EDWARD  S.  ELLIS 

Edward  S.  Ellis  is  regarded  as  the  later  day  Cooper. 
His  books  will  always  be  read  for  the  accurate  pen  pic- 
tures of  pioneer  life  they  portray. 

LIST  OF  TITLES 


DEERFOOT  SERIES 

Hunters  of  the  Ozark. 
The  Last  War  Trail. 
Camp  in  the  Mountains. 

LOG  CABIN  SERIES 
Lost  Trail. 

Footprints  in  the  Forest. 
Camp  Fire  and  Wigwam. 

BOY  PIONEER  SERIES 
Ned  in  the  Block-House. 
Ned  on  the  River. 
Ned  in  the  Woods. 

THE  NORTHWEST  SERIES 
Two  Boys  in  Wyoming. 
Cowmen  and  Rustlers. 
A    Strange    Craft   and   Its 

Wonderful  Voyage. 

BOONE  AND  KENTON  SERIES 
Shod  with  Silence. 
In  the  Days  of  the  Pioneers. 
Phantom  of  the  River. 

WAR  CHIEF  SERIES 
Red  Eagle. 
Blazing  Arrow. 
Iron  Heart,  War  Chief  of 
the  Iroquois. 

THE  NEW  DEERFOOT  SERIES 
Deerfoot  in  the  Forest. 
Deerfoot  on  the  Prairie. 
Deerfoot  in  the  Mountains. 


TRUE  GRIT  SERIES 
Jim  and  Joe. 

Dorsey,  the  Young  Inven- 
tor, 
Secret  of  Coffin  Island. 

GREAT  AMERICAN  SERIES 

Teddy     and     Towser;     or. 
Early  Days  in  California. 
Up  the  Forked  River. 

COLONIAL  SERIES 

An  American  King. 
The  Cromwell  of  Virginia. 
The  Last  Emperor  of  the 
Old  Dominion. 

FOREIGN  ADVENTURE  SERIES 
Lost  in  the  Forbidden  Land. 
River  and  Jungle. 
The    Hunt    of    the    White 

Elephant. 

PADDLE  YOUR  OWN  CANOE  SERIES 

The  Forest  Messengers. 
The  Mountain  Star. 
Queen  of  the  Clouds. 

ARIZONA  SERIES 

Off  the  Reservation ;  or, 
Caught  in  an  Apache  Raid. 

Trailing  Geronimo ;  or, 
Campaigning  with  Crook. 

The  Round-Up;  or,  Geroni- 
mo's  Last  Raid. 


OTHER  TITLES  IN   PREPARATION 
PRICE  $1.00  PER  VOLUME  Sold  separately  and  in  set 
Complete    Catalogue    of  Famous    Alger    Books,    Cele- 
brated   Castlemon    Books  and    Renowned    Ellis    Books 
mailed  on  application. 

THE  JOHN  C.  WINSTON  CO.  PHILADELPHIA,  PA. 


w 


f*. 


%» 


S3  99017