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lewis m. grist, proprietor. litbepcirknt Jfamilg Ittfospapfr: jfor % promotion of i\t Ijffitital, Jsorial, ^gritalfural aitb Commercial Jtttosls of fjit Souf|. |terms~$2.50 a year, in advnace. VOL. 33. 7 YORKVILLE, S. C.. WEDNESDAY, APRIL 13, 1887. ISTO. 15. ferial Jftotg. RETRIBUTION BY "THE DUCHESS." \ ? ? I CHAPTER XVIII. "Where?" exclaims Milllcent, as much i taken aback as even Lady Vol worth can desire. "Round Nadine's neck." "Oh, you must have been mistaken! How could Nadino have a diamond crosB of such value?" "How. indeed! She said she had been given it by that man to whom she is engaged?Paul Anuerley." "A city clerk! Impossible! Dearest aunt, yon may be sure you have made a mistake. These French jewelries are. so good nowadays. They copy so exactly the fine old designs that one is easily deceived when brought face to face with them." "No; I am not deceived," says Lady Valworth. Her tone Is that of one who is sure of her argument. It 1b, indeed, so strong, so unlike the usually vacillating Lady Valworth, that Millicent is struck by it "It is my cross?the one belonging to the diamond set Sir Thomas gave me on my marriage, that is hanging around her neck." "But how could Nadine" ' "If you doubt it," said Lady Valworth, with sudden vehemence, "let mo have an authority to prove that what I say is right. Call Sir Thomas. He is over there. Ask him." "Dear Lady Valworth, but you know you would not like to distress Miss Roche," puts in Gerald Massareene who has been perforce a listener to the disclosure and who now feels he must take a prominent part in the discussion. . He is amply rewarded for his interference by an eloquent look from Millicent. "True?true!" says Lady Valworth sighing. "I shall not speak -to Sir Thomas now but by and by I shall call his attention to it. Good heavens! Millicent this may mean the recovery of the fi whole set." "Hardly I think. These matters drift. By piecemeal they enter the windows of respectable jelwelers, and all the research in the world will not bring to light the real offenders." "Still, it gives hope. I shall examine Nadine. and?" "Not now?not until to-morrow night has gone over our heads!" entreats Millioent, eagerly, willing to spare Nadine a shock. "Why would you make unhappy a guest in your house on the very eve of Granit's birthnight ball?" This is the very argument of all others to gain over Lady Valworth to her way of thiDking. "Yes. All should go smoothly for Granit," says Granit's mother thoughtfully. "And Nadine?she?she may not be to blame." "May not?'' Millicent'a eyes grow dark with indignant reproach. "What tan you mean by such a speech as that? Nadine! l)o you for one instant believe that she has had any part in this strange story of which you speak?" "My dear child, I would not hurt you in any way, as you well know?not even through another. And as for Nadine, you can see yourself how highly I esteem her." "Highly indeed, when you can hint at scandal In connection with her." "I have hinted at nothing. I confers I am horribly distressed at seeing my own cross round another's neck. Do you ' blame me for that?" In her distress at having brought down the anger of her son's llunccc upon her head, and her agitation ut seeing again a poition of her lost diamonds, poor Lady Valworth is reduced to the very verge of despair. "Be reasonable, Milllccnt. At least, grant me justice. I have said nothing to Nadine. Why should I, when I deem her innocent? Yet the connecting link be tween me and the robber of my diamonds lies with her." 111 will not have her connected with this affair in any way," cries Millicent, hotly, tears in her eyes. "In seeking for your missing link, you will iucriminute her, and terrify her and make her wretched. And she has had nothing to do with it Has she?" She turns almost defiantly upon Massareene, v.'ho up to this has been silent. "Do you think she has?" "A thousand times no!" declares he gently. "Miss Roche and deceit of any kind seem to me as far apart jus the poles. It stands to reason, too, that if she had known anything of the lost diamonds, she would hardly havo worn them here." He is so earnest, so eager in his speech, that Millicent, with her eyes full of tears, lays her hand on his. This act repays him for many things, and makes him trebly Nadine's friend. And his argument, too goes home to Lady Valworth, so that two causes arc gained. If the latter had ever permitted herself to have any doubts, they now vanish into nothingness, and only Nadine's pale, pure face rises before her. On such a face no guilt could lie! 4 "My dear, I meant nothing?nothing, so far as Nadine is concerned!" she cries j in agitation; "but, of course, it is only natural that I should desire the return of my diamonds?Sir Thomas' diamonds. If Nadine can help mo to a solution of this , difficulty, I shall forever hold her in my ] debt." "Who gave this cross to her?" asks Millicent suddenly, if a little coldly. "The man to whom she is engaged. Paul Annerley she called him. The man she is going to marry." "You present him to me in the light of either a dupe or a swindler." "A dupe, most probably. He may, ! however, be of use to us in the discovery of the missing stones." "It will distress Nadine very much to have her lover accused of being an out- i sider in this affair." "I do not see that," says Massareene, j quickly, who is as honest as he is fulfilled of love. "If he can lead justic toils ends, ! why should he not be used? Miss Roche, ] I am sure, would be the very lost to pre- ! vent that; and so, when you come to think of it"?looking at Millicent?"would you." "Well?perhaps. But Nadine must not be teased now. Not to-night. To-mor- [ row night perhaps, when the ball is over ; ?but not before." "As you will," says Lady Valworth, | with a sigh. She would have liked to speak with ; Nadine now at once. "Is it a conspiracy?" asks Duran, coming up at this moment and touching Lady Val worth lightly on the arm. "You all look so solemn?even 1 Miss Grey, who, as a rule, is gay as spring ! time." "Oh!" exclaims MiUicent; "it is this : curious affair," she goes on; "auntie imagines she has seen to-night some of her lost diamonds. And where do you think?" "In the servants' hall?" suggests he, ; laughing. "No. Here. In this very room, worn by one of her guests." "Impossible!" Something in her tone ; removes the smile from Duran's lips. He turns to Lady Valworth. "A guest?" he says. "Millicent is indiscreet," hesitates Lady Valworth, casting a reproachful glance at her niece. "Not that; only a little angry," returns VilHeent. with a rather tremulous smile. "And why should what you have told us ! be hidden!1 Why, after all, are we to whisper of it in corners? We almost condemn her in so doing." "Condemn! Who?" exclaims Duran sharply. Instinct, love, what you will, has led him to a knowledge of the truth. "Nudine," replies Lady Valworth in a low tone, her eyes lowered. "Who has dared1'? He checks himself abruptly by an effort that renders his face as white and cold as marble. "You can scarcely allude to Miss Roche when speaking of this matter," he goes on, with a labored attempt to appear calm. \ "Of Nadine? Yes. But it Is all a mistake," says Millicent. "Lady Valworth has seen a diamond cross around her neck. But one cross of that sort is so like another! I for my part feel sure it is a mere coincidence." "It is a point on which no doubt should be allowed to rest even for a moment," declares Duran, his brow darkening. He looks round him. "Miss Roche is at the other end of the room. Will you permit me to bring her here, Lady Valworth, and let you have a closer examination of this cross? You, too, Miss Grey? You know the cross in question?" "I have seen it?yes," says Millicent, slowly. "If you think it better to lift this doubt from Lady Valworth'8 mind so?bring Nadine here. But upon one thing I insist"?fixing her eyes first on him and then on her aunt with an imperious glance?"that no thought of our suspicion is betrayed to Nadine. I will not have her hurt?offended" She breaks off abruptly. She is agitated, and her eyes are troubled. Could she know it, her agitation, kindly, womanly as it is?has made Duran her frianri fnr Ufa. "Certainly, no allusion should be made to-^-*nythIng aWk*Btf,'r^%lrf?u^ sareene hurriedly. Duran has already gone in quest of Nadine; and presently returns, bringing her to where Lady Yalworth, Millicent, and Gerald Massareene are standing. The girl, flushed and lovely, forgetful for the moment of all her cruel future, and mindful only of the happy present that has given her Duran, advances toward the anxious, expectant group with smiling lips and wide, glad eyes. Upon her neck the fatal cross is rising, falling, glittering, as only the purest diamonds can. Millicent, her gaze fixed upon them, feels her heart contract. If uot Lady Valworth's cross, it is unfortunately horribly like it. Some few words pass between her and Nadine. The latter is too full of the hour's passionate joy to heed the grief within her friend's eyes. But Duran reads it. Lady Yalworth, after one swift glance at the girl's neck, lets her gaze sink to her fan, with whicli she persistently trifles until Nadine has gone by them. "Well?" she says then, addressing Millicent. "I acknowledge it is like your cross? o" llbo V* ?i + U mcirr Ko vminu uiul if cn OU I1IVU tunv IV mwj wv j V?**m WV) no doubt this Paul Annerley bought It for her from wherever the thief sold It." "A city clerk!?to buy that jewel!" There is unbelief, keen and strong, In Lady Valworth's low tone. "How else could he have obtained it? Who is this Paul Annerley* How should he have had access to your jewel case?" Miss Grey's tone is somewhat impatient. "That is what I cannot say. I only know the cross is mine," replies her aunt doggedly. "It resembles it. That I admit. But I think time will prove to you that you are mistaken. It is probably only paste." "Paste of that sort is expensive for a city clerk." Her obstinacy angers Millicent. "Then in all probability, as I said before, it is mere glass?Spanish crystal? what you will," she says, shrugging her shoulders. "I can well believe it is a bit of French jewelry. What I cannot believe is, that Nadine has hud any intercourse with n thief." "As you have said, time will tell," replies Lady Yalworth, moodily. CHAPTER XIX. 11U1C) 111 BU iai US 11/ U1111?0 bllCUl M/ bUC next evening, has not told. The secret still lies within its ancient breast It has not yet disburdened itself, nor declared aught that might heal the anxiety that rages in tho flighty, but kindly, heart of Millicent Grey. Twenty times during the day she had approached Nadinc with a determination to tire off all sorts of point blunk batteries?meant to take the girl by storm?and twenty times she hud been driven back, routed with great slaughter by Hie innocence of Nadine's lovely eyes. No; she could not ask a question that would make her friend unhappy, uneasy, distrustful of the man whom, if she did not love, she had at least elected to marry. So the day wore on, and eventide came and died, and now night is on them, and once again Nndine is standing before her glass?a mirror that reaches from ceiling to floor?regarding with anxious guze tho lovely form that gazes back at her. Once more she would be beuutiful! Once more she would be pleasant in his eyes. His! In comparison with whom all the world is poor. To-night her gown is blue. A pale electric blue, that throws into purer prominence the startling fairness of her neck and arms. She is lingering now, touching her dress here, and moving a flower there, debating all the while what ornament shall have the honor of lying on her pretty bosom. Some vague sense of evil had warned her against the cross. No, she would not wear that. It had distressed dear Lady Valworth, had whitened her face and made her kind lips stern; some old memory, sad and angry, had been brought to mind by it. Not only that flrst time when she had given way to an exclamation, but again that second time when he? Maurice?Mr. Duran?had led her up to where she stood, Lady Valworth had seemed pained, sad, cold, unable to give her the kindly smile that, up to the wearing of that luckless cross, had ever greeted her. No; certainly she will not wear it?but There is the sapphire pendant. That Irvvr^l'ir onovlrlin ct fKtnrr flint. Piml inn. 4W1J, UJ/U. , , had given her, and that as yet has never graced her neck. True, he had warned her not to wear either it or the cross in common! lie had got them through his business in some strange way he had failed to explain. They were valuable; too valuable to be worn publicly as yet, until he had made his fortune and hers. Too valuable to be worn at Mrs. Brand's, for example. He had, indeed, made her give her promise not to wear them at Mrs. Brand's, and she had faithfully kept that promise. But there! He had not surely calculated on the fact that she would ever be here?in such a house as this. If he had known, he would have been the first to tell her to make herself look as charming as was possible to her. He would hqve had her no whit behind the rest. The very fact that she does not love him has made her the more particular in the matter of obeying him, and now a little pang shoots across her heart as she "wonders whether she had been deaf to his desires when she hung that diamond crbss last night around her neck. Certainly it had brought her no delight? no luck. It had hurt Lady Valworth, her kind friend. It had hurt Duran, too, in some odd way. She could not tell how exactly, but he had asked her one or two questions about it, and had refrained from praise of it, even when she laid it in his palm for inspection. No; not the cross. The sapphire pendant, rather. She lifts it from its case, and raises her arms above her head and clasps it round her neck. As she sees it glittering upon her lovely skin, she smiles softly to herself, and bends forward full of girlish delight at the beauty of it, and tells herself that Lady Valworth will be pleased to see her thus bedecked out to do honor to the homecoming of her son, Capt. Boyle?this dearly loved son, who, to Nadine, is as yet unknown, but of whom she has heurd so much. With a hist lingering glance at the mirror, that gives her back her charms so truly, she leaves the room. As yet it is early for the arrival of guests, and as she enters the huge ball room she finds it almost deserted. The fiddlers are tuning their instruments in a monotonous lugubrious way, and one or two people are laughing at the lower end of the room. The lights as yet are dim, and Nadine can scacely see them. She walks quickly in their direction, her heart beating gladly with a sense of youth and joy, that no misery in the future has power to kill. As she draws nearer the laughter she can see that her two or three have developed into a group. Duran is here, and Gerald Massareene; Mrs. Brand and Millicent. As Nadine comes up to them some of the servants turn up the lights to the fullest, and quite a glow of brightness is flung upon the room. Duron steps forward to greet Nadine. He says nothing to her, but only holds out his hand as if in welcome. In reality, the soft sweet beauty of her has entered into him and stricken him dumb. The lamps are shining upon her starry eyes, her red parted lips, her face so like a flower. The dainty, shy glance, that half bespeaks the praise and half decYies it; the lovely kissablo mouth, that would fain say, "Am I not good to look at, dear, my love?" yet dreads to say it; tho bent, yet proud little head, the tender, longing smile, all appeal to him. His hand closes upon hers. She is his at this moment, whatever other forlorn times the years may hold for him and her, and with the eager hand clasp he leads her forward to where the lamps shine clearest?to where all may see how fair his love can be. tt? tnmo +r\ nmVs nnme tmv remark to Millicent, still holding Nadine's hand, hut a glance at Miss Grey's face checks him. She has grown positively livid. She was full of laaghter just a minute ago, but now mirth has died from her and her lips are all set and stern, her color "gMfeWy. ? "Take her away?anywhere! Into the next room," she says in a tone of suppressed but passionate command to Duran. There is no need for bim to ask to whom she alludes?her eyes are riveted upon Nadine's neck, where the sapphire pendant is resting calmly. Duran, who is a man quick to understand, scenting danger in the air for her he loves draws Nadine aside and presently takes her out of the room. A little too late, however. Mrs. Brand too had seen and recognized the sapphires! The guests have all arrived, the ball is at its height. Yet still the hero of it is absent. There is, however, a midnight train that will in all probability bring him. "It must. He has never failed me yet," says Lady Valworth, with a rather wan smile, who is feeling hurt and disappointed. Millicent. who has been going about with a nervous distressed air all the night has been regarded as a model fiancee by all her world. Plainly, she is fretting for her recreant lover. She has more feeling than they had given her credit for. She ' ' '1 ~ 11 4.1, 13 not tnu Jicuruess, suuucss ucaiuiv i iicj had Imagined! Yet her thoughts have never wandered to Granit; they have been centered on the pretty, happy creature, who, with the stolen sapphires lying on her bo?om, has been blissfully k unconscious of the gathering storm that v is so soon to break upon her. Duran had made it a first care to learn the cause of Miss Grey's desire to get rid of Nadine as soon as her glance fell upon her in the boll room. What he had been told since byMillicentliad ledliimatonco to a knowledgo of the truth. Ho was already aware of the suspicion about the diamond cross worn by Nadine the night before. It is now impossible to him to disbelieve but that this lover of Nadine's ?this Paul Annerley?had something to do with the robberies both of the diamonds from Valworth, and the famous sapphires from Park lane. If this be true! If this be proved! He is angry with himself for the wild thrill of joy that rushes through every pulse, as this thought suggests itself and takes root within his breast. If it prove true! Why then Nadine will bo free! This man, Annerley, will be compelled to fly from the face of the law, and she will be left behind for him?Duran?and for love! ^ But then the shame to her! The awakening to the sorrow; of her lover's infamy. Sooner or later it must be told to her, but. should the task be left to rude tongues who had no love for hdr? A thousand times no. Be the man falsely suspected, or be he in reality the one who has stolen the jewels, it is impossible that Nadine should be left to learn of the suspicion resting upon him from strangers. He?will tell her. He has led her into a small conservatory leading off the tea room, which, being rather public, has been deserted by those desirous of uttering or hearing tender passages. The upper end of it, overlooking in daytime a garden beneath, is quite removed from the gaze of j those in the room outside, and Duran, as Nadine sinks upon a low couch, seats himself beside her. A dim lamp, shaded to a suouueu puns., sheds a warm but Indistinct light around. The perfume of the dying roses l fills the air. From far away the music comes to them?rising, falling, swelling, fainting, until all the night seems full | of it. Nadine, stooping toward him, lays her hand on his. "You aro troubled?" she says, softly. "I can see it in your eyes. Something is making you sorry." Her eyes, deep and brilliant as stars, are looking mournfully into his. He possesses himself of the hand she has held out to him, believing him in trouble, and holds it fast. "It is true. There is perplexity in my heart, and a suspicion of coming sorrow, but it is for you," he answers, gently. "For me!' A little startled look creeps into her lovely face. "Tell me?tell me exactly, says Duran, leaning forward bo that he can see her face more clearly; "tell me, for your own sake, how you became the possessor of that sapphire heart that lies upon your neck. "What a strange question," cries she, paling. "It was given me?it was a present from PruI Annerley. "And the diamond cross you wore last I night?he gave you that also? "Yes; he gave me both. She has grown | very white, and her large eyes arc filled ; with a painful uncertainty. "Why do i you question me about them?" she says. "Is it strange that I should have such ! pretty things? I did not want them?I i do not care for them. But why is it I j strange?" "The-strangeness does not lie in your having them," returns Duran, still holding her hand fast, though she had tried to take it from him. "It lies in the fact | that this Paul Annerley gave them to : you." "Where did he get them?" "Ah! explain yourself!" implores she, ; rising to her feet and drawing back from I him. "Your face, your voice, betray ! you! There is something terrible yet to ; be said. Say it!" "There is this," says Duran, rising also. i "The diamond cross you wore last night whs stolen from Lady Valworth; the sapphires you weur to-night are part of the Bapphirc set that was taken from Miss Grey in Park lane!" CHAPTER XX. I A silence, intense, horror stricken, fol! lows on his words. Miss Roche has fallen f back from him, and is now leaning j against the wall, with her hands clasped I upon her bosom, and her eyes, largo and affrighted, fixed on his. "Stolen!" she says, the words coming with difficulty through her white lips. "Do they think I stole them?" She shrinks backward against the wall as though she would fain sink through it, and so disappear forever. "Oh, no! Good heavens! No!" replies he, shocked. "Rut this man Annerley. It is essential that he should be found and compelled to say where he got them. You say you don't know his address, but surely it may be discovered." "Have they been thinking that?" says Kadine. heedless of his Inst words. I "And you, have - you, too"? She breaks off us though the power to go on is lost to her. Her blanched face terrifies him. "My darling! Don't look nt me like that. Nudine! Who is accusing you* j Who suspects you? He reasonable." "Lady Valworth suspects me. I see it | all now, though I did not understand before why she was so cold to me all to-day. i Slip thinks most cruelly, most unjustly j of me. Oh! what shall I do?" "Nothing now. To-morrow you must give us any help you can toward finding Mr. Annerley. No doubt," with a quick contraction of the brows," he will be able to explain to us in a satisfactory manner how these jewels came into his possession." "What a terrible situation," says Nadinej fuintlv. She covers her eyes with her hands. "If 1 had only obeyed him. If I had followed his injunctions not to wear these fatal ornaments." "He advised yon not to weur them?" Duran's voice is sharp and keen. "Yes. But only because he believed them too handsome for me, just now, when we were both poor. Afterward, he said, when he had made his fortune, they would suit me well." "Did it not strike I you that it was strange for a man calling himself poor to be able to purchase such costly things?" "I did not think. I seldom thought of him." Her tone is low and self reproachful. "How strong is fate," she says presently. "To drive me here?to compel me to wear what I had never worn before. But I am not regretful," cries ?..uh ? one, ouuuviiij} ?nu a iuuuii ui vcuir mence. "He will be able to explain, of course. And now Lady Valworth and Millicent will get back their own." She tears off the sapphire ornament and throws it into Duran's palm with a shudder. "I must see Lady Valworth. I must speak with her," exclaims Nadine, eagerly. Iler cheeks are burning, her "I shall not wait another moment. I cannot live with this weight upon my heart." She presses her hands convulsively against her breast. "Take me to her," she implores, faintly. * Seeing the excitement that is betraying itself in glance and gesture, Duran draws her hand through his arm and leads her from the conservatory. The tea room is now deserted, and they pass into the hall without encountering anybody. Midnight chimes from some distant tower, the solemn sound breaking even through the light sparkling dance music that onmoH from the ball room on their left and that swells and rings through the house. "The last train Is In. I am afraid Lady Valworth will be taken up with her son. He has surely arrived, or is on the point of arriving," says Duran to his companion in a low tone. "Nevertheless, we will try if it be possible to see her alone for even a few minutes." A servant gives them the information that her ladyship has just passed into the library in momentary expectation of Capt. Boyle's arrival. There they find her with Millicent, whom she has entreated to stay with her, and Sir Thomas. As Nadine and Duran enter Sir Thomas is expostulating a little on his wife's desertion of her guests. "It will be but for a little while, a few moments," returns she eagerly. "He must, ho will come by this train; and Clarissa" (Mrs. Brand) "has taken my place. I shall not be missed for half an hour, and he is sure to come straight here." She looks up rather impatiently as Na' dine comes into the room. The girl is white as death and trembling with agitation. Going up to Lady Valworth, she lays the sapphire pendant upon the table near her. "Lady Valworth," she 6ays gently, her voice low and earnest, "it is only just now that I have heard from Mr. Duran about this," pointing to the sapphires. "And your diamond cross?it is upstairs ?you shall have it in a few moments. But what I want to say is?is"? She falters. It is evident in her excitement she has forgotten what it was she had arranged to say. "I know nothing of it," she breaks out at last pitifully, her large eyes fixed with mournful entreaty upon Lady Valworth. that kind woman is touched to the quick. Indeed, she had never suspected Nadino of being anything but a victim in the matter, although her perplexity during the day had led her into a coldness of manner that the girl had misconstrued; * "My dear child, what a miserable idea for you to get into your head,!" she cries, kindly. "Come, now, I will have only happy faces round me to-night, when my son is expected. It is his birth night, as you know; we must give him only smiles. As for our lost jewels, to I morrow you will give me any information you can, and probably you will be the one to restore them to me." She pressed Nadine's hand kindly. "You should not have told her tonight!" exclaims ivlillicent, looking reproachfully at Duran. "Oh, it is better so?much better," says Nadine. "It would have been horrible to wear that stolen ornament a moment longer." At this moment the door is thrown wide open, and a tall man enters tho room. Lady Valworth, with a little cry, rushes forward to greet him. She has forgotten everything, except that this is her son, and that he has returned to her. But a movement on Nadine's part checks her. The girl, too, after an instant's stunned surprise, has taken a few steps forward and thrown out her arms in the direction of the new comer. "Whyl There he is! There he is himself!" she cries in a clear voice, touched by excitement. "Now he is come, he will explain all!" "He! What should he have to explain?" demands Lady Valworth, stopping short and fixing a stern glance upon her. "He will tell you how he got the diamonds, the sapphires, that he gave me'" returns Nadine eagerly, her eyes brilliant, her lips apart. Some color has risen to her face. "What farce is this you would play, girl?" exclaims Lady Valworth, in a low but terrible tone. "That"?pointing to where the (all figure stands in the doorway?"is my son ?Granit Boyle!" "Madame! that is?Paul Annerley!" [TO BE CONTINUED.] AN HEIRESS OF BED DOG. BY BRET HARTE. [Copyrighted by Houghton, Mifflin & Co., and published by arrangement with them.] The first intimation given of the eccentricity of the testator was, I think, in the spring of 1854. He was at that time in ixwsession of a considerable property, heavily mortgaged to one friend, and a wife of some attraction, on whose affections another friend held an incumbering lien. One day it was found that he had secretly dug, or caused to be dug, a deep trap before the front door of his dwelling, into which a few friends, in the course of the evening, casually and familiarly dropped. This circumstance, slight in itself, seemed to point to the existence of a certain humor in the nmn, which might eventually get into literature, although his wife's lover? a man of quick discernment, whose leg was broken by the fall?took other views. It was some weeks later that, while diniug with certain other friends of his wife, he excused himself from the tablo to quietly reappear at the front window with a three-quarter inch hydraulic pii>e, and a stream of water projected at the assembled company. An attempt was made to take public cognizance of this; but a majority of the citizens of Red Dog, who were not at dinner, decided that a man bad a right to choose his own methods of diverting his company. Nevertheless, there were some hints of his insanity; his wife recalled other acts clearly attributable to dementia; the crippled lover argued from his own experience that the integrity of her limbs could only be secured by leaving her husband's bouse; and me mortgagee, iearing a iuriuer uumago bis property, foreclosed. But here the cause of all this anxiety took matters into bis own bonds and disappeared. When we next heard from him be bad, in some mysterious way, been relieved alike of bis wife and property, and was living alone at Rockville, fifty miles away, and editing a newspaper. But that originality be had displayed when dealing with the problems of bis own private life, when applied to politics in the columns of The Rockville Vanguard was singularly unsuccessful. An amusing exag jg feration, purporting to be an exact account | of the manner in which tho opposing candi- | date had murdered his Chinese lnundryraan, j was, I regret to say, answered only by assault and battery. A gratuitous and purely imaginative description of a great religious revival in Calaveras, in whlcl? the sheriff of the county?a notoriously profane skepticwas alleged to have been the chief exhorter, resulted only in tho withdrawal of tho county advertising from the paper. In the midst of this practical confusion ho suddenly died. It was then discovered, as a crowning proof or bis absurdity, mat no oaa jeic a wm oequeathing bis entire effects to a freckle faced maid servant at the Rockville hotel But .that absurdity became serious when it was also discovered that among these effects were a thousand shares in the Rising Sun Mining company, which a day or two after his demise, and while people were still laughing at his grotesque benefaction, suddenly sprang into opulence and celebrity.' Three millions of dollars was roughly estimated as the value of the estate thus wantonly sacrificed; For it is only fair to state, as a just tribute to the enterprise and energy of that young and thriving settle, ment, that there was not probably tar* a single citizen who ^ n?t feel himjWry self better able to "mIjl Wm control the deMiitiijri ceased humorist's .Tl/Iv! V 7j\ property. Borne \\ f\ exPresse<* a AjS n (f doubt of their abilpegoy moffat. ity to support a family; others had felt perhaps too keenly the deep responsibility resting upon them when chosen from the panel as jurors, and had evaded their public duties; a few had declined office and low salary; but no one shrank from tho possibility of having been called upon to assume tho functions of Peggy Moffat, the heiress. The will was contested?first by the widow, whom it now appeared had never been legally divorced from tho deceased; next by four of his cousins, who awoke, only too late, to a consciousness of his moral and pecuniary worth. But the humble legatee?a singularly plain, unpretending, uneducated western girl?exhibited a dogged pertinacity in claiming her rights. She rejected all compromises. A rough sense of justice in tho community, while doubting her ability to take care of the whole fortune, suggested that she ought to be content with $300,000. "She's hound to throw even that away on some derned skunk of a man, nutoorally; but three millions is too much to give a . chap for makin' her onbappy. It's offerin' a temptation to oussedness." The only opposing voice to this counsel came from the sardonic lips of Mr. Jack Hamlin. "Suppose," suggested that gentleman, turning abruptly on tbe speaker?"suppose, when you won $20,000 of me last Friday night ? suppose that instead of handing you over the money as I did?suppose I'd got up on my hind legs, and said, 'Look yer, Bill Wethersbee, you're a d?d fooL If I give ye that twenty thousand, you'll throw it away in tho first skin game in 'Frisco, and hand it over to the first short card sharp you'll meet. There s a thousand?enough for you to fling away,?take it and getl' Suppose wftat I'd said to you was the frozen truth, and you know'd it, would that have been the square thing to play on youl" But here Wethersbee quickly pointed out the inefficiency of tbe comparison by stating that he hail won the money fairly with a stake. "And hc*v do you know," demanded Hamlin savagely, bending his black eyes on the astonished casuist?"how do you know that the gal hezn't put down a stake I" The man stammered an unintelligible reply. The gambler laid his white hand on Wethersbee's shoulder. "Look here, old man," he said, "every gal stakes her whole pilo?you can bet your life on that?whatever's her little game. If she took to kecrds instead of her feelings, if she'd put up 'chips' instead o' body and soul, she'd bust every bank 'twixt this and 'Frisco 1 You hear mef Somewhat of this idea was conveyed, I fear not quite as sentimentally, to Peggy Moffat herself. The best legal wisdom of San Francisco,retained by the widow and relatives,took occasion, in a Drivate interview with Peggv. | to point out that she stood in the quasi-crimi' nal attitude of having unlawfully practiced i upon the affections of an insane elderly gentleman, with a view of getting possession of his property, and suggested to her that no vestige of her moral character would remain after the trial, if she persisted in forcing her claims to that issue. It is said that Peggy, on hear| ing this, stopped washing the plate she bad in i her hands, and, twisting the towel around her ! fingers, fixed her small pale blue eyes at the | lawyer. "And ez that the kind o' chirpln these critters keep up?" "I regret to say, my dear young lady," r?| sponded the lawyer, "that the world is cenj sorious. I must add," he continued, with en'' gaging frankness, "that we professional lawI yers are apt to study the opinion of the world, and that such will be the theory of? ourside." "Then," said Peggy stoutly, "ez I allow ; I've got to go into court to defend my char| acter, I might as well pack in them three millions too." There is hearsay evldenco that Peg added to this speeoh a wish and desire to "bust the I crust" of her tradqeers, and, remarking that I "that was the kind of hairpin" she was, closed the conversation with an unfortunate accident to the plate that left a severe contu; sion on the legal brow of her companion, i But this story, popular in the barrooms and ' i gulches, lacked confirmation in higher circles, j Better authenticated was tho legend related I of an interview with her own lawyer. That I gentleman had pointed out to her the advani tage of being able to show some reasonable cause for the singular generosity of the tes- j tator. _ j | "Although," ho continued, "tne law aoes > | not go back of the will for reason or cause for j j Its provisions, it would be a strong point with i j the judge and jury?particularly if the 1 theory of insanity were set up?for us to ! I show that the act was logical and natural. ' ; Of course you have?I speak confidently, I ! Miss Moflat?certain ideas of your own why i ! the late Mr. Byways was so singularly gen- ; 1 erous to you." "No, I haven't," said Peg decidedly. "Think again. Had he not expressed to | | you?you understand that this is confidential j ; between us, although I protest, my dear young j lady, that I see no reason why it should not | be made public?had he not given utterance to sentiments of a nature consistent with some future matrimonial relations?" But here Miss Peg's large mouth, which had beeu 6lowly relaxing over her irregular teeth, stopped him. "If you mean he wanted to marry me? j No!" I "I sec. But were there any conditions?of i course you know the law takes no cognizance I of any not expressed in the will; but still, for i the sake of mere corroboration of the be- j quest?do you know of any conditions on j which be gave you the property?" "You mean clid be want anything in return?" "Exactly, my dear young lady." Peg's faco on ono side turned a deep magenta color, on the other a lighter cherry, while her nose was purple and her forehead an Indian red. To add to the effect of this awkward and discomposing dramatic exhibition of embarrassment, she began to wipe her hands on her dress, and sat silent. "I understand," said tho lawyer hastily. "No matter?the conditions wero fulfilled." "No!" said Peg amazed]v. "How could they be until he was dead?" It was the lawyer's turn to color and grow embarrassed. "He did say something, and make some conditions," continued Peg, with a certain firmness through her awkwardness; "but that's nobody's business but mine and his'n. And it's no call o' yours or theirs." "But, my dear Miss Moffat, if these very conditions were proofs of his right mind, you surely would not object to make them known, if only to ?nable you to put yourself in a condition to carry them out." "But," avid Peg cunningly, "s'poso you and the court didn t think 'em satisfactory? S'posc you thought 'em queer? Eh?" With this helpless limitation on the part of the defense, the case came to trial. Everybody remembers it?how for six weeks it was .. /I.I me a any xuuu ui \>tuavcroa wum-j , uvn *v* six weeks the intellectual and moral and spiritual competency of Mr. James Byways to dispose of his property was discussed with learned and formal obscurity in the court, and with unlettered and independent prejudice by camp firei and in barrooms. At the end of that time, when it was logically established that at least nine-tenths of the population of Calaveras wen) harmless lunatics, and everybody else's reason seemed to totter on its throne, an exhausted jury succumbed, one day to the presence of Peg in the court room. It was not a prepossessing presence at any time, but the excitement and an injudicious at' tempt to ornament herself brought her defects into a glaring relief that was almost unreal Every freckle on her face stood out and asserted itself singly; her pale blue eyes, that gave no indication of her force of character, were weak and wandering, or stared blankly at the judge; her over-sized head, broad at the base, terminating in the scantiest possible light colored braid in the middle of her narrow shoulders, was as hard and uninteresting as the wooden spheres that topped the railing against which she sat The jury, who for six weeks had had her described to them by the plaintiffs as an arch, wily enchantress,who had sapped the failing reason of Jim Byways, revolted to a man. There was something so appallingly gratui tous in her plainness, that it was felt that three millions was scarcely a compensation for it. MEf that money was give to her she earned it sxire, boys; it wasn't no softness of the old man," said the foreman. When the jury retired it was felt that she had cleared her character; when they re-entered the room with their verdict it was known that she had been awarded three millions damages for its defamation. JJe{,ffu in court She got the money. But those who had confidently expected to see her squander it were disappointed; on the contrary, it was presently whispered that she was excuedingly penurious. That admirable woman, Mrs. Stiver, of Red Dog, who accompanied hpr tn Ran Francisco to assist her in mak ing purchases, was loud in her indignation. "She cares more for two bits than I do for five dollars. She wouldn't buy any thing at the "City of Paris," because it was "too expensive," and at last rigged herself out, a perfect guy, at some cheap Slopshops in Market street. And after all the care Jane and me took of her, giving up our time and experience to her, she never so much as made Jane a single present" Popular opinion, which regarded Mrs. Stiver's attention as purely speculative, was not shocked at this unprofitable denouement; but when Peg refused to give anything to clear the mortgage off the new Presbyterian church, and even declined to take shares in the Union ditch, considered by many as an equally sacred and safe investment, she began to lose favor. Nevertheless, she seemed to bj as regardless of public opinion as she had been before the trial; took a small house, in which she lived with an old woman who ' i once been a fellow servant, 011 apparently terms of perfect equality, and looked after her money. 1 wish I could say that she did this discreetly; but the fact is, she blundered. The same dogged persistence she had displuyed in claiming her rights was visible in her unsuccessful ventures. She sunk |200,000 in a worn out shaft originally projected by the deceased testator; she prolonged the miserable existence of The Rockville Vanguard long after it had ceased to interest oven its enemies; she kept the doors of the Rockville hotel open when its custom had departed; she lost the co-operation and favor of a fellow capi fnlt'cf flii-nuirti n triflmcr miaiinHfirsfnndillO'. ill which she was derelict and impenitent; she had three lawsuits on her hands that could i have been settled for a trifle. I note these defects to show that she was by no means a heroine. I quote her affair with Jack Fol! insbee to show she was scarcely tho average I woman. I That handsome, gruceless vagabond had ; struck the outskirts of Red Dog in a cyclone of dissipation, which left him a stranded but still rather interesting wreck in a ruinous [ cabin not far from Peg Moffat's virgin i bower. Pale, crippled from excesses, with a voice quite tremulous from sympathetic | emotion, moro or less developed by stimu| iants, he lingered languidly, with much time I on his bands' and only a few neighbors. In this fascinating kind of general deshabille of j moraU, dress and tho emotions he apj peared before Peg Moffat. More than I that, he occasionally limped with ! her through tho settlement. Tho | critical eye of Red Dog took in the singular pair?Jack, voluble, suffering, apparently ! overcome by remorse, conscience, vitupera' tion and disease; and Peg, open mouthed, high i colored, awkward, yet delighted; and the critical eye of Red Dog, seeing this, winked j meaningly at Rockville. No one knew what passed between them, but all observed that i one summer day Jack drovo down tbe main street of Red Dog in an open buggy, with tho ; beizvss of that town beside him. Jack, albeit a trifle sbaky, beld the reins with something of his old dash; and Mistress Peggy, in an enormous bonnet, with pearl colored ribbons I a shade darker than her hair, holding in her I short, pink-gloved fingers a bouquet of yellow | roses, absolutely glowed crimson in distressful i gratification over the dashboard. So these 1 two fared on, out of tho busy settlement into j the woods, against tbe rosy sunset. Possibly ; it was not a pretty picture; nevertheless, as -L* - l!? -p ?Al/.nn, ninao nrultlAfl tft j xue uiiii uuiit^ ui iuu 3U1UIU1 j/tuEo I receive them, minors leaned upon their spades and mechanics stopped in their toil to look after them. Tho critical eyo of Red Dog, jierbaps from tho sun, perhaps from tho fact | that it bad itself onco been young and dissipated, took on a kindly moisture as it gazed. Tho moon was high when they returned. Those who had waited to congratulate Jack j on this near prospect of a favorable change in his fortunes were chagrined to find that, having seen tho lady safo home, ho had himself departed from Red Dog. Nothing was to be gleaned from Reg, who, on the next day and ensuing days, kept tbo even tenor of her way, sunk a thousand or two more in unsuccessful speculation, and mado no change in her habits of personal economy. Weeks passed without any apparent seipiel to this romantic idyl. Nothing was known definitely until Jack, a month later, turned up in Sacramento, with a billiard cue in his Land, and a beurt overcharged with indignant emotion. "I don't mind saying U? you, gentlemen, in confidence," said Jack to a circle of sympathizing players?"! don't mind telling you regarding this thing, that I was as soft on that freckled faced, red eyed, tallow haired gal as if she'd been?a?u?an actress. And I don't mind saying, gentlemen, that, as far as I understand women, she was ju:. as soft on me. You kin laugh; but it's so. One day I took her out buggy riding?in style, too?and out on the road I offered to do the square thing, just as if she'd been a lady?offered to marry her then and there. And what did she do?" said Jack, with a hysterical laugh. "Why, blank it all! offered me $25 a week allowance?pay to be stopped when I wasn't at home!" The roar of laughter that greeted this frank confession was broken by a quiet voice asking, "And what did you say ?"?"Say ?" screamed Jack, "I just told her to go to with her money."?"They say," continued the quiet voice, "loac you asaeu uur ior me iuuh ul $250 to get you to Sacramento?and that you got it"?"Who says so?" roared Jack. "Show me the blank liar." There was a dead silence. Then the possessor of the quiet voice, Mr. Jack Hamlin, languidly reached under the table, took the chalk, und, rubbing the end of his billiard cue, began with gentle gravity: "It was an old friend of mine in Sacramento, a man with a wooden leg, a game eye, three fingers on bis right hand and a consumptive cough. Being unable, naturally, to back himself, he leaves things to me. So, for the sake of argument," continued Hamlin, suddenly laying down his cue and fixing his wicked black eyes on the speaker, "say it's me!" I am afraid that this story, whether truthful or not, did not tend to increase Peg's popularity in a community where recklessness and generosity condoned for the absence of all the other virtues; and it is possible also that Red Dog was no more free from prejudice than other more civilized but equally disappointed matchmakers. Likewise, during the following year, sEe mode several more foolish ventures, and lost heavily. In fact, a feverish desire to increase her store at almost any risk seemed to possess her. At last it was announced that she intended to reopen the infelix Rockville hotel, and keep it herself. Wild as this scheme appeared in theory, when put into practical operation there seemed to be some chance of success. Much, doubtless, was owing to her practical knowledge of hotel keeping, but more to her rigid economy and untiring industry. The mistress of millions, she cooked, washed, waited on table, made the beds and labored like a common meniaL Visitors were attracted by this novel spectacle. . The income of the house increased as their respect for the hostess lessened. No anecdote of her avarice was too extravagant for current belief. It was even alleged that she had been known to carry the luggage of guests to their rooms, that she might anticipate the usual porter's gratuity. She denied herself the ordinary necessaries of life. She was poorly clad, she was ill-fed?but the hotel was making money. Afew hinted of insanity; others shook their heads, and said a curse was entailed on the property. It was believed, also, from her appearance, that she could not long survive this tax on her energies, and already there was discussion as to the probable final disposition of her property. It was the peculiar fortune of Mr. Jack Hamlin to be able to set the world right on this and other questions regarding her. A stormy December evening had set in when he chanced to be a guest at the Rockville hotel. He had, during the past week, been engaged in ttie prosecution or ms nonie profession at Red Dog, and bud, in the graphic language of a coadjutor, "cleared out the town, except bis fare in the pockets of the stage driver." The Red Dog Standard had bewailed his departure in playful obituary verse, beginning, "Dearest Johnny, thou hast left us," wherein the rhymes "bereft us" and "deplore" carried a vague allusion to "a thousand dollars more." A quiet contentment naturally suffused his personality, and he was more than usually lazy and deliberate in his speech. At midnight, when he wo3 about to retire, he was a little surprised, however, by a tap on his door, followed by the presence of Mistress Peg Moffat, heiress, and landlady of Rockville hotel. Mr. Hamlin, despite his previous defense of Peg, bad no liking for her. His fastidious taste rejected heruncomeliness; his habits of thought and life were all antagonistic to what he had heard of her niggardliness and greed. As she stood there, in a dirty calico wrapper, still redolent with the day's cuisine, crimson with embarrassment and the receut heat of the kitchen range, she certainly was not an alluring apparition. Happily for the lateness of the hour, her loneliness and the infelix reputation of the man before her, she was at least a safe one. And I fear the very consciousness of this scarcely relieved her embarrassment "I wanted to say a few words to ye alone, Mr. Hamlin," she began, taking an unoffered seat on the end of his portmanteau, "or X shouldn't hev intruded. But it's the only time I can ketch you, or you mo; for I'm down in the kitchen from sunup till now." She stopped awkwardly, as if to listen to the wind, which was rattling the windows, and spreading a lilm of rain against the opaque darkness without. Then, smoothing her wrapi>er over her knees, sho remarked, as if opening a desultory conversation: "Thar's a power of rain outside." Mr. Hamlin's only response to this meteorological observation was a yawn, and a preliminary tug at his coat as he began to remove it. "I thought ye couldn't mind doin' me a favor," continued Peg, with a hard, awkward luugh, "partik'ly seein' ez folks allowed you'd sorter bin a friend o' mine, and hed stood up for mo at times when you hedn't 1 to rio ifc_ I hevn'fc." sho continued, looking down on her lap, and following with her linger and thumb a seam of her gown?"I hevn't so many friends ez slings a kind word for mo these times that I disremember them." Her under lip quivered up a iittle here; and, after vainly hunting for a forgotten handkerchief, she finally lifted the hem of her gown, wiped her snub nose upon it, but left the tears still in her eyes as she raised them to the man. Mr. Hamlin, who had by this time divested himself of his coat, stopped unbuttoning his waistcoat, and looked at her. "Like ez not tbar'll be high water on the North Fork, ef this rain keeps on," said Peg, as if apologetically, looking toward the window. The ether rain having ceased, Mr. Ilamliu began to unbutton his waistcoat again. j "I wanted to ask ye a favor about Mr.? about?Jack Folinsbee," began Peg again hurriedly. "He's ailin' agin, and is mighty low. And he's losin' a heap o' money here and tbar, and mostly to you. You cleaned him out of two thousand dollars last night? ~1I L? U~A M au ld uau. "Weill" said the gambler coldly. "Well, I thought ez you woz a friend o' mine, I'd ask ye to let up a little on him," said Peg with an affected laugh. "You kin do it. Don't let him play with ye." "Mistress Margaret Moffat," said Jack with lazy deliberation, taking off his watch and beginning to wind it up, "ef you're that much stuck after Jack Folinsbee, you kin keep him off of me much easier than I kin. You're a rich woman. Give him enough money to break my bank, or break himself for good and all; but don't keep him forlin' round me in hopes to make a raise. It don't pay, Mistress Moffat?it don't pay!" A finer nature than Pej's would have mis understood or resented the gambler's slang and the miserable truths that underlaid it. But she comprehended him instantly, and sat hopelessly silent. "Ef you'll take my advice," continued Jack, placing his watch and chain under his pillow and quietly unloosing bis cravat, "you'll quit this yer forlin', mairy that chap and hand over to him the money and the money makin' that's killin' you. He'll get rid of it soon enough. I don't say this becauso I expect to git it; for when he's got that much of a raise he'll make a break for 'Frisco, and lose it to some first-class sport there. I dont say, neither, that you mayn't be in luck enough to reform him. I don't say, neither?and it's a denied sight more likely!?that you maynt be luckier yet, and he'll up and die afore be gits rid of your money. But I do say you'll make him happy now; and,, es 1 reckon you're about ez badly stuck after that chap ez I ever saw any woman, you won't be . hurtin' your own feelin's either." The blood left Peg's face as she looked ftp. "But that's why I can't give him the money? and he won't marry me without it" Mr. Hamlin's band dropped from the last button of bis waistcoat. "Cant?give?him ?the?money!" be repeated, slowly. "No." "Why?" "Because?because I lore him." Mr. Hamlin rebuttoned bis waistcoat and ' sat down patiently on the bed. Peg arose and awkwardly drew the portmanteau a little nearer to him. "When Jim Byways left me this yer property," she began, looking cautiously around, "he left it to me on conditio**; not conditions ez wax in bis tvrittan will, but conditions ez wax spokm. A promise I made him hi this very room, Mr. Hamlin? this very room, and on that very bed you're sittin' on, in which he died." Like most gamblers, Mr. Hamlin was super* stitious. He rose hastily from the bed and took a chair beside the window. The wind shook it as if the discontented spirit of Mr. Byways were without, re-enforcing his last injunction. "1 don't know if you remember him," said Peg, feverishly. "He was a man ex Led suffered. All that he loved?wife, fohtmerly, friends?bad gone back on him. He tried to make light of it afore folks, but with me, being a poor gal, he let himself out I never told anybody this. 1 don't know why he told me?I don't know." continued Fee. with a sniffle, "why he wanted to make me unhappy, too. But he made me promise that, if Jie left me his fortune, I'd never, never?so help me God?never sbaro it with any man or woman that I loved. 1 didn't think it would be hard to keep th%t promise then, Mr. Hamlin, for I was very poor and hedn't a friend nor a living beln' that was kind to me but .Mm." "But you've as good as broken your prom'se already," said Hamlin. "You've gives Jack money," as I know." "Only what I made myself. Listen te me, Mr. Hani 1 in. When Jack proposed to me, I offered him about what I kalkilated I could earn myself. When he went away, and was sick and in trouble, 1 came here and took this hoteL I knew that by hard work I could make it pay. Don't laugh at me, please. 1 did work hard, and did make it pay?without takin' one cent of the fortin'. And ell I made, workin' by night and day, I gave to him. I did, Mr. Hamlin. I aint so hard to him as you think, though I might be kinder, I know." Mr. Hamlin rose, deliberately .resumed his coat, watch, hat and overcoat When he was completely dressed again he turned to Peg. "Do you mean to say that you've been givin' ail the money you made here to this A1 first class cherubim!" "Yes; but he didn't know where I got it Oh, Mr. Hamlin! he didn't know that* "Do I understand you, that he's bin back Lag agin faro with the money that yon raised on hash ? And yon makin' the hash f "But he didn't know that He wouldn't hev took it if I'd told him." "No, he'd hev died fust!" said Mr. Hamlin gravely. "Why, he's that sensitive?is Jack Follnsbee?that it nearly kills him to take money even of me. But where does this angel reside when he isn't flghtin' the tiger, and is, so to speak, visible to the naked eyef "He?he?stops here," said Peg, with an awkward blush. "I see. Might I ask the number of his room?or should I be a?disturbing him in his meditations?" continued Jack Hamlin, with grave politeness. "Oh! then you'll promise? And youH talk to him, and make him promise?" "Of course," said Hamlin quietly. "And you'll remember he's sick?very sickf His room's Ho. 44, at the end of the halL Perhaps I'd better go with your "I'll find it" "And you won't be too hard on him?" "I'll be a father to him," said Hamlin demurely, as be opened the door and stepped into the halL But he hesitated a moment, and then turned and gravely held out his hand. Peg took it timidly. He did not seem quite in earnest; and his black eyes, vainly questioned, indicated nothing. But be shook her hand warmly, and the next moment was gone. He found the room with no difficulty. A faint cough from within, and a querulous protest, answered his knock. Mr. Hamlin AoromnnV A flick* VUIC1CU niuivub lUi vuvi w* wMrv..^ . eniug smell of drugs, a palpable flavor of stale dissipation, and the waited figure of Jack Folinsbee, half dressed, extended upon the bed. greeted him. Mr. Hamlin was for an instant startled. There were hollow circles round the sick man's eyes; there was palsy in his trembling limbs; there was dissolution in his feverish breath. ' What's up/" he asked huskily and nervously. "I am, and I want you to get up too." "I can't, Jock. I'm regularly done up." He reached his shaking hand toward a glass lialf filled with suspicious, pungent smelling > liquid; but Mr. Hamlin stayed it. "Do you want to get back that $2,000 you lost?" "Yes." "Well, get up, and marry .that woman down stairs." Folinsbee laughed half hysterically, half sardonically. "She won't give it to me." "No; but I wilL" "You/" "Yes." Folinsbee, with an attempt at a reckless laugh, rose, trembling and with difficulty, to his swollen feet. Hamlin eyed him narrow* ly, and then bade him lie down again. ''Tomorrow will do," he said, and then" "If I don't" "If you don't," responded Hamlin, "why, I'll just wade in and cut you out!" But on the morrow Mr. Hamlin was spared that possible act of disloyalty; for, in the night, the already hesitating spirit of Mr. I Jack Folinsbee took flight on the wings of the southeast storm. When or how it bapi pened, nonody knew. Whether this last excitement, and the near prospect of matrimpny, or whether an overdose of anodyne had hastened his end, was never, known. 2 only know that when they came to awaken him the next morning the best that was left of hiin?a face still beautiful and boy like?looked up coldly at the tearful eyes of Peg Moffat. "It serves me right, It's a judgment," shestiid in alow whisper (o Jack Hamlin; "for God knew that I'd broken my word, and willed all my property to him." She did not long survive him. Whether Mr. Hamlin ever clotbuci witnacuon uie m suggestion indicated in hil speech to the lamented Jack that night is not of record. B He was always her friend, and on her fl demise becafnO her executor. But the I hulk of her property was left to a dis- fl tant relation of handsome Jack Folins- fl bee, and so passed out of the control of fl Red Dog forever. fl