FOOLED.

Auckland Star, Volume XIII, Issue 3704, 24 June 1882, Page 3 (Supplement)

FOOLED.

(By Harry Blyth.)

TART I. But there's nothing half so sweet in life As love s young dream. I have to do one of the pleasantcst things in the world—l have'to tell you about myself ; and if you enjoy reading this story half as much as I do writing it, wc shall get on famously together. It is perhaps a little curious to employ the word ,; enjoy " in connection with a narrative that is of the Uolefullcst; but Time, though lie wrinkles our faces, and "bunions" our feet, dries our tears as well, and broadens our sighs into smiles. Yet, as I throw myself back in my great, old-fashioned arm-chair, and toast my slippers bofore a comforting fire, I can recall the bitterness I suffered iv the years that arc gone without a pang—nay, with a feeling that borders upon true con. tentment. The Now is so cheerful, the Then was so cheerless. If the gout occa. sionally troubles my toe, my heart at least is free from aches, and tailors' bills havo ceased to be problems.

The incidents that I am about to relate occurred more years ago than I care to state. 1 hough my hair is white my face is fresh, ami it has, I believe, been termed by people of a nice' taste in such matters, handsome. I readily puss as a juvenile of forty-five summers ; and if I am ten years iiiorc than this, what has it to do with you or anybody else, sir ?

I may perhaps be all allowed to state that my eyes arc blue, with a modicum of tenderness lurking in their empyrean depths, highly effective when dealing with the fair sex. My figure ia quite free from angularities; it abounds in graceful contours, and it is the envy of a parcel of parchmentskinned, gaunt, llcshlcßs idiots, who vent their spleen iv declaring that I am growing fat! Really these people are vastly amusin", I protest I am in danger of choking myself: with laughter when 1 meet these shadowless shades.

From the description I havo given you of my present appearance you wiU, I dare say,' be able to understand what I was like when I first left college a full-fledged surgeon. It is true that I am now mellowed and perfected, and even in those far-back days I was not altogether without parts, It is many years since I felt a pulse or wrote a prescription. I bale sick rooms, and the sight of disease makes me shudder; so you may imagine how rejoiced 1 was when one fine day I found myself independent of a profession certainly the most harrassing and most unpleasant in the world.

In telling you this story I want to write as I felt when the incidents occurred. It is not cosy to do so now, but I'll try. I commenced practice in street, fi good thoroughfare Broomhill way, remarkable for the length of the gardens in front of the houses in it, if for nothing else. I was unknown, and I had no private means, and, as might have been expected by anybody except a sanguine young idiot, I starved there with tolerable cheerfulness for some eighteen months before I was able to keep myself ia bread and cheese; and no sooner hud I reached this lofty position than I grew rash, and decided, aa you shall hear, to ask someone to share niy crusts and my cheap cheese with mc. In a word, I must needs hamper myself with a wife. My name is Hcrrick—Bobert Hcrrick. There was a Bobert Herrick, you will please remember, who living in tho seventeenth century, shed sunshine about him as he wnrblcd sonic of the most delicious vernal trills to be found in this or any other language, and I am a descendant of this same bard. lam aware that a v«ry inelegant man and exceedingly doubtful poet —one Soutlicy, has charged my tuneful ancestor with a lack of refinement and a want of decency, but—

Snap 1 Snap !! Snap !! ! for Mr Southey. But I am talking to you again from my armchair, and forgetting that I must try to think and speak as I did, no matter how many years ago.

How we, the recent Herricks, came to England is not very clear, nor is it important. . I am a Herrick, and there's an end of it. A letter I received about the breadami chccse-timc I have spoken"of brought about the singular episode that for a considerable time wrecked my peace of mind and made me fancy that I could never he happy again. It was of course addressed to Mr Herrick, or I should not have opened it. It was from a man named Macphcrson, who threatened all sorts of legal vengeance unless a sum of eight pounds three shillings due to him was paid without delay, I certainly did not owe any person named Macpherson arty such a sum, and I examined the communication more carefully. In the corner of the note I saw the name of Miss Lena Herrick, for whom it was obviously intended. The " Mister " on the envelope had doubtless been a clerical error.

I had not hitherto been aware that a namesake of mine lived in the neighbourhood ; and I was not a little surprised to learn from the aged creature who cloaneel my room up that "she knew a Herrick who lived the next house."

I might easily have handed the lcttet back to the postman, and have explained to him the error that had occurred, but something prompted me to deliver it to Miss Herrick myself. Had I been a busy man I should have adopted the simpler course first named ; but the truth is, I had so little to do tbat I was glad of any excuse for exerting myself. Lena herself answered my ring. I shall Lever forget my first meeting with this beauteous being. Less dark than a July evening.her faco had the ripe glow and the maturity of autumn. Her timid, sweeping lashes trembled to let yon see the whole glory of her deep, black, passionate orbs. She had ruddy, restless lips, and roses bloomed upon her cheeks. She was very simply clad, perhaps even poorly, bnt I had no eyes for the material that covered the dainty, huggable form. Its rich contours and its gracious swells and dimples blinded me to all that may 'have been sordid in her dress.

I handed her the letter, and explained to her how it was that I had opened it. She thanked me in a low sweet voice.' As she looked at tho superscription the colour fled from her cheeks ; she was strongly agitated. I would have left her, had she not said to me timidly and with an effort:—

" You are Dr. Herrick, then, sir." "Doctor Herrick," I answered, "and very much at your service." I made her my best bow. Even in those young days I prided myself upon my elegance of manner. "I was going to send for you," situ went on, hesitatingly, at the same time opening the door wide for me to enter the house, " but 1 did not like to."

I looked surprised, nnd inquired what reason she had for hesitating to command me.

By this time she had led me into a clean but'poorly-furnished room, and we were sitting opposite to each other. She trembled excessively, and big beads, through which her eyes sparkled wondrously, clung to her luxuriant lashes.

"My sister Linda," she went on, "has been very ill, sir, and I would haye sent for you, but— but—"

" But what, ray child ?" said I.coaxingly, assuming a patriarchal manner, which, seeing how inihnned my eyes were with admiration, was absurd enough. A ton-cut of tears washed those scintillating beads away, and she sobbed - "We are very poor, sir, and I was afraid " "Tut, my child: take mc to your sister," I said, ririiig and placing my hand lightly upon her shoulder. I was already so much the lover that to release myself of my embarrassment I continued my assumption of a fatherly manner. She looked up brightly through hor tears, and cried— "Oh, sir, if yon can do her any good, I nkall be so grateful te you." Her sister, she said, was in an adjoining room, and togother we went to her. She was a tliin.blne-eycd girl,with flaxen liair. On her cheek consumption had placed its hectic Hush. She had once been lovely. Same would have declared that she was still beautiful.bnt the staring, wistful eyo, tho pink dash over hor cheokboncs, ber vermillion lips-were the touches that Death had given hia bride—tho graces of the charnel-house 1 She started as we entered, and very anxiously asked Lena •who I was. "But," the poor girl cried, in a terrified voice, when she learnt my name, " wc can never pay him, Lena, darling." I walked to the sido of her bed and felt lier pulse. Something in my manner told her that I should never troublo her with my bill. She allowed her hoad to fall back upon ker pillow, a smile-a vory painful one to witness — overspread her deathmarked faco, and yielding to a sudden impulse, sho kissed my hand with great enthusiasm. As I drew it away I felt two tears trickle from it,

Their story was a sad one, but one unhappily not rare. Mrs Herrick hud been a Scotchwoman ; yhe had died some years before, leaving them to the caro of their father, who was a German, aud a musician Of considerable ability. All had gone well with them until their lather's illness. They had no relations liviug,and such friends as at_ first took compassion upon the dying violinist in the end grow tired of contributing to his support. One remained, more constant than the others, and this was a certain Macphcrson, who had a business of a miscellaneous character in Sheffield, He certainly had done a great deal for them. The Inst time he showed bis generosity was shortly before Mr Hcrrick'sdeath, wbcu he lent Lena, the eldest daughter, the sum of eight pounds _;pnn the joint note of the two girls. Almost as soon as the funeral was over, he proposed to her. Sho would have married fiira for hor sister's sake the girl was ill and needed more nourishing tilings than t'aoy could buy—but the invalid protested against the sacrifice, and declared that it would kill her t.i know that her beloved sister Lena was linked to a man she hated. Macphcrson, nothing doubting that ho would-be readily accepted, took his rcpulso with an exceedingly bad grace, and Immediately begun to threaten the poor girls that unless the money they owed him was paid, he would break up their home and drive thorn into the streets.

Tho letter from him that had been accidentally deliver.'d to mo contained the last JIAUcI most decisive nienaco. Lena hud, so far, by industriously plying licr needle, managed to keep them both from actual starvation, and if Macphcrson did not enforce hi* claim, and the landlord omitted to call for his rent, thoro was no saying bow long they might not continue this pitiful race from death. I,'fiill-flcdgcd surgeon, with my broad nnd cheese, was living in n state of riotous afllucncc compared with these poor struggling things. The quarter day was at hand, and I had some money by mo which, in the ordinary course of events, would in a littlo lime leave my desk for my landlord's pocket. The greater portion of it, however, was, on this occasion, destined for another person. After leaving Lena and her invalid sister, I took eight pounds three shillings from my little stoic, and at once went in search of Macphcrson. I did not see my way to the replacing of this sum, or, failing its replacement, to tho assuaging of my landlord's disappointed fcclir.gs. But I was madly in love, aud how could I be cautious? There is no love like first love. I had taken the disease late in life ; the termination was certain to be fatal. Mr Macphers»n did not exhibit any astonishing joy when he received, his money—indeed, it appeared to me that he did not want to be paid—at least in tho current coin of the realm. He chose to be exceedingly facetious at my expense, and to say more rude things than I intend reproducing here. It was enough for mc that I obtained his receipt, and that, that very night.it was iv the possession of Lona, whose whole frame seemed to swell with gratitude when I gave it to her.

This was my introduction to Lena Hcrrick, and from what you havo read you will be quite prepared to hear that soon after our first meeting I asked her to share my cru=t and my cheap cheese. She looked a glorious creature as I held her in my arms, the softest, the richest crimson mantling her cheeks, her eyes swimming; with an inexpressible ecstasy, and her little hand fluttering about my neck.

"Myheart was yours," she whispered, " the moment I saw you. God forgive me if I love you too much." I was one of the happiest men alive !

I forgot to tell you that though I had no money, I was exceedingly rich in expectations. Airy wealth enough, you will say, but wealth that would not fly away until the day when my old uncle in Jamacia should die and forget to mention mo in his will. Mv aunt lived in Sheffield ; she had not seen" her husband, Roger Bo3cawen, for somo years. I did not remember him. The truth was he had a liver, and she possessed a temper that in no way harmonised with this erratic and much abused gland,so while he swore.with much energy and satisfaction in Jamaica, she nagged to her heart's content in a dingy house in the neighbourhood of tho Parish Church. They had never had any children, and I was commonly regar Jed aa being their probable heir. Not because they ever evinced any particular regard for me, but rather for the reason that there was no one else belonging to them who had any claim upon their wealth. I had not failed to direct my uncle's attention to tho fact that a little money when I was commencing life ■would be of more use to me than a great deal when I had accumulated wealth for myself. His reply was a huge ease containing boxes of cigars, which I need scarcely say I sold. Nor did my aunt escape my importunity. Her answer was a bundle of tracts and an invitatiou to take tea with her, at which thin and vapid meal she propounded to me the scarcely original theory that lods were best left to shift for themselves. So I had nothing to hope for from my relatives while they lived, and I was not so mercenary as to wish them dead. Each day my Love grow more tendor and apparently more devoted to me. The hours that I spent with her were the most delicious that I have ever experienced. Straitened though my circumstances were,

we had, with all the audacity of youth, determined upon an almost immediate union. There was little, except poverty, to fleck the brilliant horizon of our passion, but that little rendered me very uncomfortable, It was a small thing, but, gnat-like, the itritation it occasioned was altogether out of proportion to its size. Linda, who had quickly learnt to regard mc with a sister's affection, could not bring herself to look hopefully upon the projected marriage. She never spoke upon this subject before her sister, but when, as it sometimes happened, wo wore alone she would murmur, stroking my hand the while— " Poor ltobert, I hope you will be happy. Lena is a good girl, but she doc 3 not understand your grand heart. I pray to heaven that alio may never so far forgot all you aye done for us'as to grieve you." I affected to laugh at her fears ; indeed, I believed them to be idle and most foolish. Still, her words haunted me and worried me until I grew nugry at myself for thinking about them. So f.ir I had not told my aunt that I was about taking unto my poverty-stricken solf a wife, and it is vory likely I should never have done so had we not quite unexpectedly encountered this severe and gaunt old lady ou one of our afternoon rumbles. She received the information that I was about to be married with a grim smile, and sho examined Lena s appearance with the cold, critical eyo of the woman who has borne no children.

To my surprise she expressed herself glad to see us. She Bddcd that sho was on the point of sending for mo.fora gentleman hud just arrived from Jamaica who was a great friend of my uncle's, and who was anxious to meet me. He was staying at her houso, she added with a sniff, and her house wouUl he his home until he returned. She begged that we would accompany her back and take a cup of tea with her and the stranger, one Growlvent by name, and, I may add, by nature. The stranger had a -skin as yellow as a toad's stomach, he was as ill-tempered as my dear mint herself, and he was as dogmatic and narrow-minded as middle-aged gentlemen who have owned slaves in hot countries usually are.

From the moment wc met I felt n most energetic prejudice against him, which I was not at any pains to conceal.

Lena, to my amazement, appeared to be drawn to him,and her beauty had so softening an effect upon him that when addressing hor he fo-got his ill-temper and his fiery speeches. My aunt, being so delighted with .tlie effect Lena hud produced upon the old savage, protested that my darling must be a frequent visitor during bis stay. I confess that this prospect did not occasion me any satisfaction. But I could scarcely interfere, and so it came about that Lena, leaving her sister to the care of a little girl I had found for the purpose, win frequently at my aunt's when I was busy at home or attending my patients.

One day I entered Mrs Boscawen's dining room unexpectedly, and, I suppose, noiselessly. To my indescribable amazement Lena' was sitting on tho barbarian's knee, and her delicate arm was round tho old ruffian's neck.

"So," said the bilious old crocodile, with a hideous leer, "you'll throw that young fool over and marry mc .' "Of course I will, darling, Young men arc so stupid," TART 11, Wcop on, and as thy Borrows flow I'll taato tho luxury of woo. lam not a passionate man. Perhaps you will understand mo better if I Bay that I am not a blatant one. When I suffer 1 become subdued. If my heart is wounded, my tongue hangs heavy nnd useless, and for the moment I articulate with difficulty. I can give you no idea of tho agony I endured as I watched Lena lavish those caresses that should have been mine alone upon that old "guinea" pig. A whole world of misery was prcsacd into those bitter seconds.

I advanced towards them and cried,

"Lena I"

She started slightly, but did not exhibit anything like tho confusion I had expected She left old Growlvent's knee, nnd stood, her eyes cast down with a brazen affectation of modesty. Perhaps her cheeks wore a deeper tinge than usual. Thero seemed to lurk about her lips tho hint of a mocking smile. She had the grace of beauty, but not tho grace of shame. If my lovo could havo turned to hate my wretchedness would have been at least endurable. But as I looked at hor my heart yearned for her. I could havo fallen down and worshipped her, false though sho was.

"Lena 1" I repeated. She raised her eyes; there wa9 no sorrow in tltose deep, black orbs ; rather a pitiless, laughing demon. "You mustn't be very angry with mo," she pleaded in a low, thrilling voice. " I could not help it—indeed I could not, Mr Herrick"—but three short hours beforo she had called me Robert I—" wo made a mistake, we dtd not know our own minds, wo have been very foolish, Conic," she wont on.olfcring me tho daintiest hand ever kissed by breathing man, " let us forgive and forget. Is it not a good thing," she added, with an ill-timed dash of sprigbtlincss, "that we discovered our mistakes when we did ? It would have been very unfortunate had we discovered that we did not care for each other after we had been married some time."

I listened with staring eyes, and speechlets. My brain was in a most incomprehensible state ot confusion. I placed my hand upon the corner of the table for support. I know that my hand was there, and yet I could not feel the table. I heard indistinctly, and a mist was before my eyes. It was some time before I cohld speak. When I did my voice sounded strange to me, and it seemed a long, long way oft. " You are fooling mo, I said; "it cannot —it must, not be true ; it is some foolish joke. You cannot teU me in all seriousness that you are going to marry that old man."

Through the gathering mists I saw her form dimly. She placed her arm round old Growlvent's neck and kissed him.

"I am going to marry Mr Growlvent," she said, with an insolent laugh, "and I love him very much." "He! he I he I" the jaundiced old sinner chuckled. "You young fellows think to bave it all your own way with tho girls, and I can't help laughing when I sec what precious fools you look when the conceit is taken out of you, he 1 he ! he ! " The old fellow fell back in his chair in a paroxysm of merriment, which threatened to produce an apoplectic fit. When at last he recovered his breath he continued — " Lena is a sensible girl—a very sensible girl. She thinks a well-lined purse more attractive than a good-looking face. Don't you, mercenary little Lena ?" "You know I love you for yourself alone," she protested, with a coquettish air, again kissing him ; " but of course you're only in fun, or I should be very cross with you." This was the woman who but a few weeks before had, resting her head upon my chest, said, "God forgive me if I love you too nmch." i The old savage chuckled to himself with i keen enjoyment.

"Yes, yes," he went on. "Lena is a sensible' girl—very, very sensible. She prefers carriages and yellow fever to health and poverty with you. Shrewd girl, shrewd girl, very !" and Growlvcrtt again became convulsed.

Not very pretty speeches these, but tho old rascal hated to be pleasant, and they did not appear to hurt Lena's feelings in the least, for she affected to treat them as excellent jokes. I staggered rather than walked from the loom.

In the lobby my aunt took my two hands in hers, and pressed them affectionately. "Puir laddie, puir laddie," she said, "whan a' the warld turns frae ye, dinua forget that ye've ac fricn in Him wha' kens a' hearts if ye wull but seek Him." So tliis gaunt figure, this tract-distribu-ting and evening-tea vapidi'y, had a heart I Wonderful! I had never noticed beforo how shabby and desolate my own little sitting-room looked, nor had I before that day seen how gloomy tho street in which I lived really was. I sat nursing my sba'tered hopes all that day, and maybe more than once indulging in that woman's lnxury—tears. I had not so many patients that I could afford to offend the meanest of them, but, whatever the consequences might, be, I resolutely declined to see anyone. God help me I Of what use would I have been to the sick and tho suffering ?

Naturally my thoughts travelled from the one sister to the other.and now I understood poor Linda's fears and her anxiety. She knew Lena better than I did—knew her inconsistent nature—her heartlcssncss, and alio trembled lest I should at tho last moment find myself jilted. Although the poor girl had never regarded our engagement hopefully, she had now set her heart upon it, and if I felt sure that should the truth he told her in her present critical state it would hasten her end.

Lena had no love for me, but surely sho was dcroted to her sister? I should write to her and bog her to keep all that occurred a secret for poor Linda's sake. I offered to call in nnd see the dying girl as u?nal, so as to prevent her from suspecting that anything was wrong. My letter was confided to her sister. Not a murmur o«capod me in it, not a sign of grief could be detected in one single line. It was hard to pen such a communica. tion; but I was anxious to save the poor consumptive girl from tlie unhappiness of hearing of her sister's treachery, and so endured as well as 1 could the misery of inditing it. I received a reply written on fine rented paper. Lima was already affecting the lady. She thanked mc coldly for tho intc-cst I took in her sister, but uho begged to assure mc it was unnecessary. Linda was not so ill as I had striven to make out. Lena concluded by saying that she believed the delicacies she "could now supply her sister with would do her more good than the visits of any doctor, however talented lie might be. iler words were very cruel. I crushed the letter in my band, aud threw it into the lire. All energy, hope, and life seemed to have left me.

Some eight diys after this, as I stood at my window moodily gazing upon the dreary street, I saw a hearse and a funeral carriage standing at the next door. I knew then that Linda was dead.

Time passed,and day by day I grow more depressed, dreamy, and unfit for work. My patients became fewer each week. Often I bad not sullicicut money to purchase tho bare necessities of life. This was a small matter, for I seldom ate.

One gloomy afternoon a hired brougham stopped outside my bouse. A lady, clegantlv dressed, stopped out, and wnlkod quietly down the garden. It was L?na. I trembled excessively as I waited for her to enter my room.

Had sho repented? Had she come to throw herself on her knees, and a»k me to tako her to my heart again ? Alas, for me, she had never left my heart, and with what joy would I not have taken hor to my arms again. "Dr. Herrick," she said, sunnily, "I won't detain you a moment. lam afraid I ought to bave called upon you sooner, but I have been so very busy. You have an account against mn for your attendance upon my poor sister Linda. I won't troublo you for the details, for I havo no time to stay. I daresay this will satisfy you." She placed a roll of notes upon the tablo beforo me. I was speechless with indignation. She bowed, and smilingly wished mo good-day. The strings of my tongue were loosened. For almost the first time in my life I exhibited passion, and I cursed her. She did not hear me, tor she had almost reached her carriage. Thank heaven, I was in timo to Ret to it before it drove away. With bitter words I threw her money into tho carriage, and returned to my little room completely shattered. I cast myself upon my couch, aud after this all is dim and hazy for some time. I can remember being consumed by a raging fever, aud then suffered as though au Arctic winter was about me.

The light seemed to havo loft the world for ever. But, notwithstanding, I could see weird and fearful forms dancing in the air. Confused voices, cries, and wild laughs rang in my ears. Slowly, graduully as through a glass darkly, I distinguished my aunt's face bending over mine, and the dawn appeared to break, and a light at last stole into the room.

Tlion I fancied that I heard old Growlvent's voice, but surely this was only fancy? What had he to do by my sick bed ? "The farce has gone too far," I imagined I heard him say. " You have much suffering to answer for," my aunt's voice floated through the room like'a voice heard in a dream, " but I won't spare her—l won't spare her; she shall be fooled until he is strong enough to hear the truth."

I listened to no moro, I tossed aud tossed about In my bed. Would these dreams and voices and foims never leave me and give mo rest ? Why would not God have mercy upon me and let me die J

I had been very ill, and my aunt, with whose crotchets I had never evinced any sympathy, had nursed me with the utmost tenderness. Without her ceaseless care I should most certainly have died. • " Now, Robert," she said to mo, when at last I was strong enough to leave my bed. " You must come with me to my home. I've got a cab already for you." After a pause, during which she studied my appearance intently, she asked— " Would it disturb you very much to meet Lena now ?''

" I could bear it, if it is necessary," I replied. "Is it necessary ?" " Yea, my dear," she answered, "it is." After a moment's hesitation he added, " Whatever happens, Robert, you must not blame me. I have had no hand in this business," with a sigh she added, " it has gone so far now, it must be seen out to the end."

My aunt had one peculiarity ; it was only when she was speaking on religious matters that she spoke in brpad Scotch. Perhaps she thought that English was not good enough for such a grand question. "There is a surprise in store for you," she continued, as she assisted me on with my overcoat; "but bear up, Bobert; he strong,"

Wondering to what her hints tended, I walked to the cab, and wc were driven off. When I entered my aunt's principal room I found Lena there dressed as a bride. She was alone with Mr Growlvcnt.who was attired in his usual slovenly manner. My aunt followed me. AYe four were the only people in that apartment. " You are late," said Mr Growl vent, cpnsultinghis watch, " and we were growing impatient; "weren't we, Lena'" " You were, dear," said Lena with an assumption of modesty. She looked at mc, and h«r face became troubled. I suppose my face was very corpse-like. Did her conscience prick her at last ? "I heard that you were ill," she said ; hsr voice trembled a Uttle ; " I am glad to ace you about again." I inclined my head. My heart was beating furiously. I felt that the unexpected was about to happen. " Now that we are all here," said Growlvent, with a loud chuckle, " let's proceed to business."

He stood up in the centre of tho room, and he regarded Lena in a way that made her recoil.

" I suppose," he said to her with a Bneer, " you think that you are going to marry mo?"

"Of course I am, dear." Shespoke confidently, bat the colour left her cheeks; her fingers moved nervously. Growlvcnt grinned, and with malicious satisfaction went.on—

"Perhaps you might marry me —and perhaps you, might not —if there didn't extst a trilling obstacle. " Obstacle 1" the wretched girl echoed, turning from Growlveiit to my aunt with wild staring eyes. "It's a mere nothing to a sensible girl like you," tho old man went on—indignation mastering his attempt at jocularity, and swelling his veins, and purpling his yellow face—"but I'm married already!" In a moment it seemed as though Lena would faint. Suddenly she started to her feet, and stood rigid, with her hands clenched at her side. Her face was perfectly destitute of colour. Her eyes sparkled like diamonds on a snow mound. " You scoundrel I " she cried without moving her jaw. The words came cold, steely, and distinct, but I never in my life heard anything that reminded me so much of the spitting of a cat, " I'm married already," he went on, raising his voice : "and allow me to introduce you to my wife." He took my aunt's hand! My Uncle Boscawen !

Not a muscle of the girl's body moved ; there she utood as she had when she dragged those two words from the bottom of her raging heart " \on scoundrel 1"

"When I came home from Jamaica, I heard that my nephew had engaged himself to"a young woman whom nobody knew anything about. It didn't matter to mo who he married—he might have married a half-caste for all I cared. But I'd come over here to make a rich man of him, and I determined to find out what sort ot a •woman it was that was to have the spending of the money, I tried you. 1 ottered you my gold against his love, my bilious, diseased old carcase, and carriage, against his handsome manly form without one. You showed your true mercenary nature, and jumped at me. His agony was nothing to you; you fooled him, to find yourself the only fool at lost. She mado a spring upon my uncle, and she would, I verily believe, havo done him serious injury, had not my aunt dragged her away. Then followed a paroxysm of rage that I cannot dwell upon—n demoniacal fury unworthy of a woman. Then she left us, and a strange stillness fell over the house.

My uncle swore that I had much to thank him for, in saving me from so heartless and selfish a woman. But I could never feel grateful to him for his trick. "When he bad make up his mind to carry his scheme through," said my aunt, '•I invented the name of Growlvent— wasn't it an appropriate one ? I objected to tho trick from the "first, but I have no voice, my dear, in your uncle's plans." Since that day I have enjoyed a handsome income, which has enabled mc to surround myself with luxuries—lias, I flatter myself, weaned me from all thought of my early bitterness.

When I commenced this story 1 told you that my heart was free from aches. It was then. Barely had the inkdried on this manuscript, when I was visited by a bright-eyed but emaciated child, who brought me a piteous letter from her mother—Lena I It beseeched me to send her a few shillings to save her from starvation. Will my old sorrow never die ?

[THE END.]