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2 4^

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ME. OLDMIXON

A NOVEL.

BT

WILLIAM A. HAMMOND,

▲T7TH0B or "LAL," **DOOTOB mATTAN/* XTO.

NEW YORK :
D. APPLETON AND COMPANY,

1, 8, Ain> 5 BOND STBEET.
1885.

Coptkiout, 188S,
By D. APPLETON AND COMPANY.

All riyhU reterted.

CONTENTS.

Chapter. paos

I. Why Barbaba Laughed 5

II. A DiflCONSOLATB LOYER 21

III. A Family Picture 89

IV. Father and Daughter 54

V. Making a Will— Jack Oldmixon 67

VI. "What Brought You Here?" 84

VII. " A Feast for the Gods " 98

VIII. A Horrible Deed. 112

IX. A Disappointed Couple 128

X. Barbara Works and Thinks 146

XL Jack and His Fox 160

XII. A Pair op Doctors 177

XIII. A Tender-hearted Husband 194

XIV. A Vision, or What? 211

i' ■

IV CONTENTS.

Chaftbb. yaqb

XV. The Basilisk and the Weasel 225

XVI. " I Could Never Mabby Him, Father " 240

XVII. " Welcome TO Las ATA I" 255

XVIII. "Why Should She Not?" 269

XIX. "I Love You" 283

XX. Reyelationb 297

XXI. " By Heaven I that Touched Him " 310

XXII. The Torture is Continued 323

XXIII. Hogarth has an Idea 337

XXIV. "Her Heart Sank within Her" 354

XXV. " Stop, if You Love Me I" 367

XXVL "My GoDl Which Shall rr Be?" 883

XXVII. " Everything's Going on Well " 399

XXVIII. Hogarth is Satisfied 414

XXIX. Hogarth Makes Several Discoveries 429

XXX. " The Rogue's March " 445

' s. -

MR. OLDMIXOK

CHAPTEK I.

WHY BABBASA LATTGHED.

" Do yon think that head is thrown far enongh back,
father ?"

The speaker was a yonng woman of apparently twenty
years of age or thereabouts. She was neatly but plainly
dressed, and she was seated in front of a long table or
work-bench, moulding into a natural attitude the stuffed
skin of a canary bird that was nearly ready for mounting
on the little wooden pedestal that stood close at hand.

The room was evidently the workshop of a taxider-
mist, for there were lying about it, on tables and chairs,
and even on the floor, several skins of animals of various
kinds. There were also half a dozen or more mounted
specimens in different stages of forwardness. There was
a Skye terrier ready to be sent home to his disconsolate
mistress so soon as his hair should have received its final
combing and brushing, and there was a diminutive black
kitten, that had doubtless once been the playmate of
some rich man's little daughter, if a judgment could be
formed from the fact that there was a silver collar about
its neck with the name " Georgiana" marked upon it in
blue enamel lettera ; and there was a bull-dog rather the
worse for his troubled existence in this world of sorrow,

8 HB. OLDMIXON.

with th6 rest of her, jnst as an eye or a hand receives its
beauty from the soul that flashes through it and the blood
that courses through its veins and arteries. Nature had
not been miserly in the matter of quantity ; for although
it was all^ save a few irregularly placed curls on her fore-
head, gathered together into a knot at the back of her
headf it was easy to see that the growth was sufficiently
luxuriant to excite the envy even of the ^' Fair One
with Oolden Locks/- had that magniflcent fairy being
caught a glimpse of it. .

As to her complexion, it goes without saying that it
was fair. It was of the kind that red-haired women
usually have, though perhaps a little paler. The skin
was of course thin and delicate, so tliat under the influ-
ence of the adequate emotions it would blush or becojne
pallid with a promptness and a thoroughness that would
leave nothing to be desired on the score of passional
manifestation.

As she uttered the words with which this chapter be-
gins, the faintest beam of a smile passed over her counte-^
nance ; and then it was seen that her eyes lighted up with
a wonderful beauty that in their condition of repose they
gave to the commonplace observer, such as my friend,* the
admirer of Madame F^licie's lay figuresi, no indication
of being able to exhibit. But the artist, the poet, and
the man with brains would not have been surprised ex-
cept, perhaps, at the extent of the change. He would
have known all along that the power of expression was
there, not only in her eyes, but in every feature of her
face. It was that knowledge that would have made him
want to look more than twice at her, hoping that, some-
thing would stir her emotions or her intellect, and bring
out the latent beauty that lay hidden in her face.

WHY BAEBARA LATTGHED. 9

And tlie like was true of her month, that most expres-
sive of all the features, not even excepting the eyes. As
she spoke and smiled, the parting of her lips showed two
rows of white and regular teeth, that appeared to be as
satisfactory from a masticatory as they evidently were
from an aesthetic point of view. There is no middle
ground so far as teeth are concerned. They are either
good or they are bad. If they are not the one they are
assuredly the other. This girl's teeth were good.

It must have been something remotely connected with
the bird she was mounting, rather than the bird itself, that
made her smile. The work of the taxidermist is not
particularly enlivening' any more than it is especially
healthy. Indeed, the continual handling of the skins of
dead animals must tend, one would think, to produce a
melancholy, or at least a grave frame of mind, just as
the contact with arsenic, corrosive sublimate, and other
poisonous but preservative substances is calculated to
exert a deleterious influence on the bodily health. Bar-
bara Henschel had, however, evidently beien endowed
with sufficient mental and physical stamina to resist both
cat^ories of depressing influences, for she was sound of
health in mind and body. Her organs worked with all
the regularity of a dynamo-electric engine, and the con-
sequence was that she had the superlatively healthy body
that insures the superlatively healthy mind.

Tes, there must have been something directly or indi-
rectly tbBsociated with the bird that tended to excite her
risible faculties ; for as she moulded the plastic form of
the little creature with her slender fingers, and scanned
it from time to time with a critical eye as she pursued
her work, her face appeared to be €k>nstantly on the

point of again relaxing into a smile, until at last, unable
1»

10 MB. OLDMLXON.

to restrain herself, she dropped the object of her skill
and, throwing herself back in her chair, burst into peal
after peal of merry laughter.

The old man who was working on the royal Bengal
tiger at the other end of the room now ceased his labor,
and, raising his spectacles from his nose, looked at the
girl in utter astonishment. As the laughter continued,
he rose from the bench on which he was sitting and
softly walked over to where she was at work. He stood
behind her for a moment, looking over her shoulder at
the bird that still lay on the table. Then he picked it
up and carefully examined it, holding it in various posi-
tions, adjusting now the head and again a wing, but so
slightly that no appreciable change was made in the atti-
tude as given by his daughter.

" I don't see anything to laugh at," he said at last to
the girl, who had in the mean time ceased to manifest her
mirth, and was, with him, looking critically at the bird.
" It's very well done, much better than I could have done
it, and I've been at the business close on to sixty years,
as apprentice, journeyman, and master. You've got the
true instinct of the artist, my dear. Ah, how often have
I told you that the art of the taxidermist is as high and
as subtle as that of the sculptor ! Look at that bird I
Could the English Lawson, or the French Barye, or even
the American Kemeys, who stands a head and shoulders
above them all, have done better in marble or bronze ?
Couldn't you swear that it was just about to pour forth
its piping notes — indeed, that you must have suddenly be-
come deaf, for that otherwise you would certainly hear it
singing away at the top of its little voice ? You can see
the delicate throat swell with the expansion of the larynx,
and almost move as it varies the inflections and tones of

WHY BABBABA LAUGHED. 11

the notes that yon are sure are coming out. Can the
sculptor do as much with his claj as you have done with
the skin of that bird and a little cotton wool ? Ah ! my
dear, you are an artist, a true artist, for you know how
to interpret and to depict nature, and to put into your
work a living spirit."

" I'm glad you think it's good, father, I'd rather
please you than all the rest of the world, for you know
what is good and true in art ; and if I've been able to
get a little of your inspiration, I am satisfied."

** What I know, Barbara, I've acquired by hard work,
with stem necessity to urge me on rather than genius.
But you could not remain idle if you tried, for you have
a soul that needs no spurring to make it plunge forward
in the race of life. But you must go away from here to
some place where you will have a chance to expand.
Here you will never be appreciated by the public.
You'll always be regarded just as I am— as a mere ' ani-
raal-stuffer ' — and you'll wear out your young life in the
old shop mounting pet birds and dogs and cats, without
ever getting even the name of ' artist, ' while others with
a tithe of your talent and none of your genius carry oflE
the prizes of life. "

" But, father dear," said the girl, patting his cheeks
with both hands as she stood erect before him and looked
fondly into his face, ^^ I'd rather work here with you
than to go away and try to be great. Perhaps, after all,
I'd fail, and then where would we both be ? No, no ;
let me stay with you. I like my work, and I like to be
with you ; I'd rather be happy than famous."

" Ay, girl, that's all very well," nwumeJ the old
man, stroking her red hair with his old withered hands,
and lingering over the action as though it afforded him

12 HB. OLDMIXON

infinite pleasure ; ''far be it from me to drive you away
from your old father, for you are a good girl, Barbara,
a good girl, and you've always been good since the day
you were T^om. But you might be famous and happy
both, my dear. How would you like that ? Famous
and happy ! For, you see, fame brings money, and
what would we be without that ? There's a good deal
of competition now in our business, and I'm getting old ;
and though I'm good yet, it won't be very long before
I'll have to give up. Not but that you could carry on
the work. I know you could. Professor Kicketts at the
Museum told me the other day that the flock of quails
you mounted for him was the most artistic group of birds
in the collection. 1 heard him pointing out its beauties
to several ladies when he didn't know I was standing be-
hind him, and he said there wasn't a taxidermist in
Europe or America that could equal it. That's high
praise from him, for he's seen all the famous museums
of the world. But, after all, what is it ? He and you
and I know that no one but an artist could turn out
such a gem ; but to the world it's only a piece of bird-
stuffing, with which your name is not connected. He
paid a good price for it, though — ^good, that is, for our
work ; but if it had been in bronze you'd have got a
thousand dollars for it."

*' Then let me stay, father. When you get too old
to bother yourself with work I'll carry it on, and all
you'll have to do will be to give me your advice and in-
struction."

" Ay, but I want to see you famous before I die. 1
want to see your name in the newspapers. I want to
hear people talking of the great artist Barbara Henschel.
I want to see your work in the exhibitions and engraved

WHY BARBABA LATTGHED. J3

for the illustrated magazines, with biographies of yon,
and yonr portrait at the head of the 'articles. Then I
think 1 could die in peace. And I wouldn't leave you a
pauper either, Bab. IVe got a nice little sum all for
you, dear ; enough, too, to keep you in comfort while
you are studying, so that the wolf would never be at
your door. Old Christian Henschel hasnH been a taxi-
dermist for more than half a century for nothing.'^

" Then you shall give up work whenever you choose.
We'll buy a little farm like the one near New Rochelle,
that you were looking at last summer. Peter shall look
after the shop and do the hard work, just as he does
now ; and I'll come into town every day and do the
mounting. Then, you see, I could bring out with me
the smaller animals, and you could show me how to dis-
play them to the best advantage. Wouldn't that be
nice?"

*^ Yes, yes, very nice ; but it would be still nicer if I
Was to sell the business to Peter, and instead of your
coming to town every day to stuff animals, you came to
take lessons in sculpture from Mr. Maurice. I was
speaking with him about it yesterday, and he said noth-
ing would give him greater pleasure than to have you as
his pupil ; and then in a year or two you should go to
Europe and study the works of the great masters. I've
enough to pay for it all — oh yes, quite enough."

" And leave you here ! 1 couldn't do that, father."

** I didn't say that, my dear," said the old man, with
a low laugh. ** As 1 get older a longing to see old
"^ Denmark again comes over me. We have glorious
' sculptures in Denmark. There is no one since the an-
cient Greeks that has equalled Thorwaldsen. We'll go
together, and perhapft spend a year in Copenhagen.

14 MB. OLDMIXON.

Wouldn't yon like that better than wasting your talent ?n
staffing pet canary birds ?"

" Perhaps I would, father," answered the girl, while
her face showed the pleasure that the picture held up by
the old man gave her, ** if I thought — "

" If you thought I'd like it too ? That's what you
wore going to say. You think too much of me, and not
enough of yourself. My race is nearly run, yours is
scarcely begun. I can never be anything more than I
am — an * animal-stuffer,' as they call me — while you can
be, and, please God, you shaJl be, the admiration of
kings and emperors, and, better still, of artists. Think
of it, dear ! think of it ! There's time enough ; I'll
give you a month from to-day to decide."

" O father, you're so loving and kind to me !" she
said, while her eyes filled with tears. ^' I'll try to do
what's right for your sake."

" In one month, then, from this day and hour you
shall give me your decision. But you haven't told me
what you were laughing at," he continued, laughing
himself at the idea of his forgetfulness. '' It's not often
that you laugh so heartily as that. It put me quite in
mind of your poor mother, of the time when she was a
Danish peasant girl and I was a journeyman taxidermist
for old Easmus Olafsen, in Copenhagen, nigh on to fifty
years ago. Yes, she laughed just like that ; just like
that fifty years ago."

The old man seemed for a few moments to be entirely
overcome by his recollections of the past ; and then,
without waiting to be told the cause of his daughter's
mirth, he shuffled back to his work on the royal Bengal
tiger.

** Then you don't care to hear what I was laughing

WHY BABBABA LAUGHED. 15

aboat ?" inquired Barbara, as siie picked up the bird and
began to adjust it to the little perch on which it was to
stand. " You know 1 always see the funny side of
everything."

*' Oh yes, 1 want to hear ! You're a jolly girl, Bab.
Sometimes 1 think that, in view of all the serious matters
of life, you are too light-hearted ; but it's good for you,
after all, perhaps. When your mother was Olga Hei-
berg, she was always laughing at something ; but after
she married me and came to America she tasted the reali-
ties of life — mostly sorrows, as they are — to their full.
We had a hard time of it here the first three or four
years after our arrival. There was very little demand
then for my work, so that we suffered ; but, thank God !
we conquered a good place in the world at last."

" That was because you knew more about taxidermy
than any one else in the country ; because you had an
artist's eyes and head, and because you were not afraid
of work. Now you have orders from all parts of the
United States."

^' Yes, and have had for thirty years. That tiger is to
go to the Academy of the Natural Sciences in Philadel-
phia, and that omithorhynchus to the Museum of Com-
parative Anatomy in Cambridge. Oh, I've had orders
from Mexico and South. America, and Europe, too !
We'll see some of my work in the Prindsens Palace in
Copenhagen. I sent a buffalo to it last year — the only
specimen of the animal they have ever had. Yes,
they've plenty of my work in Europe, and they've paid
pretty well for it, too, as prices go in our business. I
got three hundred dollars for the buffalo, but it cost me
fifty to get the skull and the skin."

He went on with his work at the tiger after this speech,

16 MR. OLBMIXON.

while Barbara, having finished mounting the canary,
placed it nnder a glass shade and went to where her
father was sitting snrvejing the result of his labor.

" I haven't told you yet what 1 was laughing at," she
said, with a smile on her face. " 1 don't believe you
care to know.''

" Yes, yes, I do I" exclaimed the old man, with
every appearance of interest. *' I forget ; my memory
is very bad, and it gets worse every day. Things that
took place sixty years ago I recollect as distinctly as
though they occurred only yesterday ; but the things of
the moment escape me. I was talking with Professor
Laird about it yesterday, and he said that I don't register
impressions as well as I did. My brain is not so sensi-
tive. You see, my dear, I'm over seventy years of age ;
but I'm a pretty strong old fellow for all that, and my
eyes, when I've got my glasses on, are just as sharp and
just as true as ever. Now, look at that tiger 1 Isn't he
splendid ? How they'll crowd around him at the
Museum next Saturday I I have the consent of the
Academy of the Natural Sciences to show him at the
Central Park Museum before he goes to Philadelphia.
But then," he continued, as he resumed his seat on the
bench, while Barbara remained standing by his side witli
one hand resting on his shoulder, " what were you laugh-
ing at ?"

^^ I was thinking," answered Barbara, laughing again
at the remembrance, but not so heartily as before, ^' of
the old gentleman that brought the bird here to be
mounted. He was very old— oldqr than you, father, but
dressed like one of those young men that we see in the
Park driving his horses tandem and with a pretty young
lady by his side. He told me all about the bird, and he

WHY.BARBABA LAITGHED. 17

wept over his story as though his heart were deeply
touched ; as it was, no doubt."

^' But, Barbara, my dear, it isn't kind to laugh at the
grief that a person feels when a pet animal has died.
It's strange how these dumb creatures do creep into our
hearts ! And it's well for us that it's so, for more than
half of our work comes from the mounting of dead pets.
Yes, a good deal more than half. It's an honorable
feeling, and we should be the last ones to laugh at it."

^^I wasn't laughing at his grief, father, but at the
story he told ; and it was so strange that he should
have told it to me, a perfect stranger. He lives opposite
to a very beautiful young lady, and he's in love with
her. He's seventy-five if he's a day, and she's my age.
He's an old bachelor and, as he told me, has been in love
more than forty times, but could never quite make up
his mind to propose. And so some young fellow has at
last, in every case, come along and married the lady, or
else she has died while he was trying to get his courage up
to the point of asking her to be his wife. He says there
are over forty ladies, any one of whom could have been
his wife if he had had the daring a man ought to have.
The oldest is seventy-four and the youngest twenty."
And again Barbara laughed.

*^ He seems to have a brave enough idea of his power
as a lady-killer, and I think he's an old fool !' ' exclaimed
Mr. Henschel, with some degree of irritation in his
voice. *^ He ought at his time of life to be thinking of
the grave instead of marriage, and to a woman of
twenty at that I"

"Well," continued Barbara, "the young lady who
lives opposite to him had a canary that she prized very
highly, and that every morning, in full sight of her old

18 MR. OLDMIXON*.

admirer, she hung out of her window. Then he used to
sing while the gentleman sat at his window and listened
to each note, as though it came, as he really imagined at
times it did, from the lady herself."

'* What, you don't mean to say that he was quite
such an old idiot as that !"

" Yes ; that's exactly what he told me. It seemed to
him as though the bird were telling him what the lady
had said, and he used to sit behind the curtain of his
window and listen to it till the sun got round and the
lady took the bird in."

^* He imagined the bird to be a medium for the lady
to communicate her thoughts to him ?"

" Yes, that was it."

" But did he have no way of replying ?"
• " That is coming. Every day the bird used to sing,
and, as the heart-sick swain imagined, tell him that his
love was returned, and that all he had to do was to ask
for the lady's hand, and that she would gladly give it to
him with her love. But for all that he could not muster
up courage enough to do as he thought he was told. In
fact, he had never spoken to her in his life, and did not
even know her name — her first name, I mean. "

'* He's a lunatic, my dear ! Oh, there's no doubt of
that I When I was a boy in the little village of Thune,
where I was born, there was an only man named Jan
Petersen, who used to think all the birds were talking
to him. Hour by hour he'd sit in the fields listening
to them and talking back at them. At last he got to
throwing stones at them, for he thought they were abus-
ing him ; and one day a stone that he threw at a thrush
struck a little child in the head and killed him. Then
they shut Jan Petersen up in a lunatic asylum, and

WHY BABBARA. LAUGHED. 19

that's what they'll do with your old beau if he doesn't
mind."

" I shouldn't be surprised. But hear what he did.
He was too bashful to talk to the lady, but he bought a
canary bird and hung its cage up in his window and
talked to it of his love for the lady while he was sitting
behind the window curtain. Then, when the bird sang,
he thought it was telling the lady's bird liow all its words
of love were reciprocated, and that thus she would know
the state of his heart. But one day the lady left the
door of the cage open, and her bird flew away and came
across the street ; when, finding the window open, it
went into the old gentleman's room. The moment he
saw it he shut the window and opened the door of his
own bird's cage, hoping that the lady's bird would go
in. It did go in just as he hoped ; but no sooner had it
entered than the other bird flew at it, and, before the
gentleman could interfere, had killed it. This was the
end of that love affair, and that is the bird that I have
just mounted. His only happiness now consists, he says,
in thoughts of the past. He never intends to fall in love
again, but he means to soothe his troubled spirit by look-
ing at the dead canary under a glass shade. It isn't a
bad story ; but the idea of that spruce-looking and dandi-
fied old gentleman thinking of his lost love by gazing at
a dead canary made me laugh."

"He's an old fool."

" He'll be here in a few minutes to get his bird. He
said he preferred to call for it rather than to have it sent
home. Oh, there he is now !" as a carriage drove up to
the door of the office — the front room of the establish-
ment — " and Peter is talking to him."

" Mr. Oldmixon would like to see Miss Barbara," said

20 MB. OLDMIXON.

a young man^ appearing at the glass door that opened
from the show-room and office into the work-shop.

" He only wants his bird, Peter, and there it is. The
price is five dollars."

Peter took the bird, and passed with it into the front
room.

" Five dollars for that work of art 1" exclaimed Mr.
Henschel ; " it's worth fifty."

But at this Barbara only smiled.

CHAPTEE II.

A DISCONSOLATE LOVER.

Although the door between the two rooms was closed,
Mr. Oldmixon's expressions of delight at the appearance
of his bird were so loud that it was impossible for Bar-
bara and her father to avoid hearing them, in part, at
least. Mr. Henschel's face lighted np with pleasure.

" Ah !" he said, in his slow, deliberate way, ^' he's
not such a fool as I took him to be. He knows a good
thing when he sees it. You did not charge him enough
for it, my dear.' '

" Five dollars seems enough for an hour's work,
father."

" But the genius 1 the genius, my dear ! You should
charge for that, not for the mere manual labor that
you put on your work. Unless genius is charged for,
Meissonier would get no more for a picture than would
a sign painter ; not so much, in fact, for he puts a few
hours' work on a piece of canvas, while the sign painter
is several days at his job. But the one gets ten thousand
dollars, and the other the thousandth part of that sum."

" But there is only one Meissonier, while there are a
dozen taxidermists here in Nevr York alone."

'^ Ah ! but only one Barbara Henschel. You should
assert yourself, my dear. The world generally takes a
person at his or her own valuation."

*^ Mr, Oldmixon would like to see Miss Barbara," said

22 MR. OLDMIXON.

Peter, putting his head in through the half-open dooFj
and instantly withdrawing it.

"1 don't want to see him, though,'' exclaimed Bar-
bara, with a little tinge of vexation in her voice. " Why
can't he take his bird and go I"

" Oh, see him by all means !" said her father, with
something of an imploring tone in his voice. " He may
want to give you a more important order. Never neg-
lect business, my dear. While we are taxidermists, let
us not be forgetful of our interests."

Thus adjured, Barbara gave a little look at herself in
a rather dilapidated mirror that hung on a nail driven
into the wall, and without further words went into the
front room.

*' I am everlastingly obliged to you, Miss Henschel,"
said Mr. Oldmixon, in a melancholy voice, as soon as he
caught sight of her. " I felt that I could not go away
without thanking you in person for the beautiful manner
in which you have mounted this poor bird. It h the
one thing that is loft of my — my — Would you mind
asking your assistant to leave the room for a moment ?"
he continued, in an altered tone. ^' Thanks," as Peter,
without waiting for a stronger hint, went out, shutting
the door after him. " My unhappy passion," resumed
Mr. Oldmixon, in the lugubrious accents with which he
had begun — " unhappy in more ways than one, and to-
day rendered additionally hopeless."

As he finished speaking Mr. Oldmixon took from the
breast-pocket of his coat a cambric handkerchief with a
wide black border, and gently pressed it to his eyes to
absorb the tear that stood in each. Then he very care-
fully folded and returned it to its place, leaving just the
least bit of the black border visible.

jai^ ,

,<^ - ***.

A DISCOirSOLATE LOVEB. 23

He was certalnlj seventj-fi^e years of age if he was a
day, as Barbara had said. In stature he was scarcely
five feet, bnt was as prim and as neat as though he had
just stepped ont of a band-box. He had removed his hat
on Barbara's entrance, and had thns displayed a head
absolutely as devoid of hair as was the palm of his hand.
His face was shaved clean of all capillary growth, and
was as red as a boiled lobster^ as was also his scalp ; and
this hue extended down his neck as far as his clothing
permitted it to be seen, and doubtless a good deal far-
ther. He was dressed in the height of fashion, and with
an affectation of youthfulness that was ludicrous when
contrasted with his evidently advanced age. He sported
a bine neektie, with a Eoman gold pin representing the
head of Medusa, and wore salmon-colored gloves and
patent-leather shoes, that he kept tapping with a slender
cane all the time he was speaking. Altogether he was a
very extraordinary-looking personage, though certainly a
gentleman, and entirely sincere in the emotion he was
showing.

For a moment Barbara scarcely knew what response to
make to this declaration of his unhappiness ; but she was
a quick-witted young woman. She really felt sony for
him, and she was ready to sympathize with him, or any
one else, in fact, that suffered in her presence. She
thought it better, however, after a little reflection, to
ignore the existence of his grief ; so she answered very
gently that she was glad he liked the bird.

'' Of course I like the bird ! It is beautifully, most
artistically mounted, and I thank you from the bottom
of my heart for all the care you have given to the — the
—carcass, shall 1 say ? — of my poor little friend. ' ' Then
he again took th^ handkerchief from his pocket, again

24 ME. OLDMIXON.

mopped Tip the standing tears^ and again, folding it ex-
actly in the creases the laundress had given it, put it
back into his pocket.

" May 1 sit down, Miss Henschel ?" he asked, after he
had completed these actions;. " My feelings quite over-
power me."

'* Of course, Mr, Oldmixon,'^ said Barbara, bringing
a chair and placing it by his side.

Mr. Oldmixon regarded it for a moment somewhat
ruefully, then he looked at Bal*bara, and then glanced
slowly around the room. Espying what he had evi-
dently been looking for — another chair — he made a dash
for it, and, though it was heavy and apparently about as
much as he could comfortably lift, brought it to where
Barbara was standing.

" I never sit while a lady stands," he said, with a low,
old-fashioned bow and a little wave of his hand toward
the chair. ^' 1 wouldn't do such a thing if I were dying
of fatigue. Will you kindly be seated. Miss Henschel ?"

Barbara blushed a little at this attention, and sat down.
Mr. Oldmixon couldn't blush any more deeply than was
his natural manner, even had he felt like doing so ; but
he followed Barbara's example so far as sitting down went.

"Miss Henschel," he said, after he had crossed one
leg over the other, while he continued lo switch first one
shoe and then the other with his slender cane, " 1 am
about to make you a very important communication, no
word of which must ever pass your lips except so far as
your father is concerned. Always confide in him. A
daughter can have no better friend, at least till she is
married to a good man, than her father. Tell him as
much as you choose, but be silent while I live to every
one else."

A DISCONSOLATE LOVER. 25

Barbara started. The idea flashed through her mind
that he was gomg to do what he never had had the
requisite courage yet to do — make her a proposal of mar-
riage. He had ab*eadj intimated that his late afiEair had
had an unhappy termination. His manner was so im-
pressive and, at the same time, so mysterious, that it was
not strange that such a notion should occur to her. Be-
sides, she had strong reasons for believing that he was
not entirely of sound mind. She did not believe him to
be insane, but she was quite sure that he was very eccen-
tric, and therefore of that form of mental constitution
that prompts to the doing of singular and erratic deeds.

But a moment's consideration sufficed to show her that
such an act on his part was not very probable. In all
the instances — over forty in number, or, to be precise,
forty-three — ^in which Mr. Oldmixon, according to his
confession made to her a few days ago, had been in love,
he had never been able to. master sufficient heart to de-
clare his passion. It was scarcely probable, therefore,
that if he were in love with her — of which, indeed, he
had given no evidence — ^he should all at once find his
courage developed to the extent requisite for making a
matrimonial offer. What he had failed in doing forty-
three times he would not be likely to succeed in accom-
plishing on the forty-fourth occasion. Forty-three
defeats argued the existence of a constitutional peculi-
arity that no mental efforts could subdue. The soldier
who has run away in forty-three battles could not possi-
bly fight bravely in the forty-fourth. Besides, as she
watched him while he was speaking, she saw that he
was in a condition of nervous trepidation that was almost
pitiable to behold. Not only was he slashing his patent-
leather shoes with his cane, but his face was twitching as
2

26 ME. OLDMIXON.

though each individual muscle were tacked on to a wire
through which an interrupted galvanic current were pass-
ing. No, he could not be about to venture on a declara-
tion of love. If he were, he would certainly break down
before he began. Besides, there was an accent of sorrow
in his tone that was incompatible with the joyousness
that should accompany an intention of the kind in ques-
tion, and a tear was running down each rubicund cheek —
a tear that seemed to be amply supplied at its source, for
it showed no signs of a diminution in the force of its
stream, and, so far as appearances went, would keep on
in its meandering career till it was absorbed by the stiff
" choker" that encircled his neck.

But Barbara was not suffered to remain long in doubt ;
for after going to the door between the two rooms to
see that it was entirely shut, and then turning the key in
the lock of the street door, Mr. Oldmixon again sat
down, again crossed one leg over the other, and again, re-
suming his pedal castigations, began to unburden his mind.

'' Miss HenscheV ' he said, as— doubtless feeling the
water-courses on his cheeks — ^he again took out his hand-
kerchief and pressed it lightly to his eyes and face, '^ I
think 1 am in a position to exclaim with the poet— Addi-
son, 1 believe the author of that admirable series of essays
entitled the '^ Spectator," as well as of several plays, from
one of which, JiosaTnond, the lines I am about to quote
are taken — ^I think," he repeated, '^ that I am in a posi-
tion to exclaim in regard to love,

' Endless torments dweU about thee,
Yet who would live and love without thee ! '

For I have met with a misfortune so sudden and over-
whelming, a catastrophe so dire, so agonizing, and alto-
gether so cataclysmic — if you will permit the expression

A DISCONSOLATE LOVEE. 27

— that it appears to me as though the end of all things is
approaching, and as though — if 1 may say so without
perpetrating an anticlimax — my heart-strings were torn
loose from their attachments."

'' I am very sorry, Mr. Oldmixon, if anything has oc-
curred to distress you," said Barbara, with the tenderness
of voice and look that at once showed that she was sincere.

"Tou are very kind; so kind, in fact, that I am
tempted to confide in you. Indeed, Miss Henschel, you
will recollect that on the occasion of our first meeting —
when 1 brought my poor little bird to be restored, as far
as your artistic mind and hands could accomplish the
object, to the semblance of what it once had been — I
ventured to give you a few details of my life, which
I was not without the hope would arouse in your sym-
pathizing heart a little spark — scarcely a flame, Miss Hen-
schel — a little scintillation — ^if 1 may employ the simile —
of pity for one who is, I trust, not altogether unwor-
thy of such an emotion from such a woman."

As he uttered these words Mr. Oldmixon's voice,
which had never been strong, became more and more
squeaky, till at the end it was not far different in timbre
from that of a very infirm and juvenile pig. He
stopped, and taking a little vial from his waistcoat pocket,
and with an inclination of his head toward Barbara, as
though to ask her permission, removed the cork, and,
holding the open mouth to each nostril alternately, sniffed
the vapor that arose from the few drops of liquid. The
effect was to make his face still redder than before ; but
it appeared to give him renewed strength ; for with an
air of relief he recorked the little vial and, holding it in
his hand in readiness for another emergency, he again
spoke, and with an increased force of voice.

28 MR. OLDMIXOK.

a

'^ Pardon this little episode, Miss Henschel," lie said.

The fact is, 1 have a weak heart physically as well as
mentally, and 1 am obliged upon occasions of a trying
character, such as is this, to resort to the nitrite of amyl
as a roborant."

'^ Can I do anything, Mr. Oldmixon ? Will you have
a glass of wine ?"

" No, Miss Henschel ; material aid is not what 1 re-
quire. I am in search of a receptacle into which I can
pour my sorrows ; not a mere inanimate vase, but a liv-
ing, breathing, heart-possessing repository, such as I have
every reason for believing you to be. May I presume
that far on your benevolence and my impressions of your
disposition ?"

Barbara began to feel some degree of embarrassment.
She was sorry for Mr. Oldmixon more from seeing in his
face and manner the evidences of his grief than from
any consideration of the subject that had brought him to
his present state. That subject she had strong reason
for believing was another disappointment in love, and
she really had no desire to hear the details of the forty-
fourth misfortune that had befallen her susceptible vis-
itor. There was something, too, that was excessively
ludicrous in the idea of this little, desiccated and eccen-
tric old gentleman making her the confidante of his
amatory adventures, or, indeed, in his having any such
experiences at all. Still, what was she to do ? She could
scarcely refuse to hear him. He was so gentle, refined,
earnest, in his deportment and language, that she could
not find it in her heart to repulse him. She was not
the kind of a woman to submit to imposition or inten-
tional annoyance. She had a high spirit and plenty of
it when occasion required it to bo manifested ; but she

A DISCONSOLATE LOVEB. 29

had also one of the tenderest hearts that ever beat in a
woman's breast, and hence the wounding of the feelings
of any one, for the small object of securing relief from a
tiresome experience, would have been almost an impos-
sibility with her. As was to have been expected, her
good-nature prevailed.

"If you think 1 can help you, Mr. Oldmixon," she
said at last, " 1 shall—"

" If 1 think you can help me !" he exclaimed, inter-
rupting her. " Miss Henschel," he added, with an in-
creased gravity approaching solemnity, " I Tcnow you
can help me."

"I will do what I can."

" Then listen ! This morning I was looking out of
my window, thinking of her upon whom my heart was
fixed, and trying to get a glimpse of her as she passed
back and forth in the sitting-room on the second story,
when I observed some unusual signs of an intra-mural
activity new to the house. Men with flowers in baskets
and in the form of bouquets, others with models of tem-
ples and of doves, Cupids and other things in confection-
ery, and women carrying big paper boxes of various forms,
entered the house. Then several wagons arrived with
the names of Delmonico, TiJ0Eany, Howard, and other
purveyors to the gastronomic and aesthetic tendencies of
man and woman, painted on them ; and ice-cream freezers
and a multiplicity of packages were handed into the
house. Finally, one after the other, a half a dozen
carriages drove up to the door, and as many young ladies,
dressed in white and carrying bouquets, got out and
went in. Then, as did Hamlet, I said :

' AU is not weU ;
I donbt some fonl play.'

30 MB. OLDMIXON.

But in what shape it was coining I could not divine. The
real cause for all the exhibitions 1 had witnessed never
occurred to me. It only shows how unsuspicious 1 am."

He ceased talking, and again applied the restorative
vial to his nostrils, while Barbara, who was quick enough
to perceive to what finality his story was tending, listened
with increased interest, when, after a moment or two, he
resumed his discourse.

^* 1 stood and watched, my soul filled with the most
gloomy but ill-defined forebodings. What could it all
mean ? 1 paced the floor I I struck my forehead I I
rubbed my head with a piece of cocoanut cloth, in the
hope of rousing my dormant intellectual faculties to the
comprehension of what was going on ; but all to no use.
My brain appeared to have sunk into a deep lethargy,
with all its faculties, save those of perception, benumbed.
I could see and hear, but I could not understand. But
the necessary goad to my slumbering wits was soon to be
applied without mercy ; for after 1 had gnawed my heart
till the agony became insupportable, the door opened,
and she^ clothed in white, wearing a white veil and with
orange blossoms in her hair, descended the steps and
entered a carriage that had a moment before driven up
to the sidewalk. The sun came out brighter, and

' In the warm shadow of her loYeliness,
He kissed her with his beams.'

Fool that I was ! Had 1 known what all those prepara-
tions meant I might even then have stopped it, for I
should have rushed across the street, have entered the
house, have thrown myself at her feet, and have declared
my passion. Who," he added, looking complacently
around the room, as though he had been addressing a

A DISCONSOLATE LOVER. 31

dozen or more auditors, but finally fixing his eyes on Bar-
bara, '' can donbt what would have been the result ? The
wedding would have gone on, the reception would have
taken place, the ice-cream, and the cake, and the chicken-
salad, and the terrapin, and the boned turkey would have
been eaten ; the champagne would have been drunk ; the
band would have played its gayest music; the epi-
thalamium would have been recited ; but the bridegroom
would have been me — Victor Constantino Oldmixon —
and not the despicable wretch who, like a thief in the
night, had stolen into another man's fold and robbed him
of his best beloved."

Mr. Oldmixon fairly broke down with the emotion
consequent on the recollections evoked by these words.
He covered his face with his handkerchief, upon which
he had poured the contents of his remedial vial ; and thus
while he sobbed out the expression of his feelings he
snified in the salutiferous exhalations that were to en-
ergize his heart

Barbara did not know what to do. It was impossible
for her, a stranger and a woman of twenty, to offer sym-
pathy in a love affair to a man of seventy-five, whom
she had seen but once before, and whose very existence
was till a few days ago unknown to her. Besides, the
commiseration that she had felt for Mr. Oldmixon when
he began his recital, and when there was more or less
uncertainty in her mind relative to the actual details of
the disaster that had overtaken him, had rapidly disap-
peared under the influence of the comicalities of the
situation, as they had been revealed to her by his ex-
travagant though certainly graphic description. Indeed,
it was with the utmost difficulty that she restrained her-
self from bursting out into a fit of just such laughter

32 MR. OLDMIXON.

as she had indulged in that very morning over recol-
lections that had not one tenth part of the ridiculousness
of the mental pictures now before her. As it was, a
smile, that was several times on the verge of becoming
audible, sparkled on her face. Fortunately, Mr. Old-
mixon could not see through his handkerchief ; and after
he had vented his grief sufficiently, and inhaled an ade-
quate quantity of the nitrite of amyl to invigorate his
heart and nervous system, he proceeded with his story.

" I was determined to find out who the destroyer of
my happiness was," he resumed, with more fimmess in
his voice than he had yet exhibited. " I am a coward, I
admit, so far as women are concerned. Any member
of the female sex, if she is good-looking, can twist me
around her little finger ; but with men I am a difierent
sort of a person altogether. When I was a student at
Heidelberg 1 fought three duels. The scars I received
in those contests I shall carry with me to my grave. Do
you see this ?" as he laid his finger on a fine line that
crossed one cheek ; " and this ?" as he indicated another
on his chin; *^ and this?" pointing out one that must
have been the remains of a cut that one would think
could not have done less than sever his nose from his
face. ** There are others that have faded out with my
advancing years. They are all, however, as nothing to
those that I bear on my heart.

' The heart's bleed longest and but heal to wear
That which disfigures it.'

So I rushed out of the house to a livery stable in the
next block, and jumping into a coupe that was standing
ready 1 ordered the driver to follow the procession of
carriages that was then passing in sight down the Avenue.

A DISCONSOLATE LOVER. 33

1 soon overtook tliexn. They turned into Twenty-fifth
Street, and stopped at Trinity Chapel. She entered the
church leaning on the arm of an old man — her father, 1
suppose. 1 followed. There was an immense crowd await-
ing the entrance of the bride. It seemed as though all
Uew York knew of the wicked act that was about to be
committed, while I had been kept in ignorance. 1 pushed
forward as near as I could to the chancel, and whom do
you think I saw standing there with his best man await-
ing the entrance of my beloved ? Whom do you think
I saw ? Miss Heuschel, you are an innocent-minded girl ;
the contaminations of the world have not touched you.
You are one of those pure spirits that think no cviL As
I looked at him I felt, in all their force, the words of the
poet, that

' Sharper than a serpent's tooth it is
To have a thankless child.'

To be sure, he is not my child ; he is only my nephew.
Jack Oldmixon, my poor brother's son, is the man who
has robbed me ; but the words spoken by old King Lear
lose none of their force, even though the miscreant be a
nephew instead of a son."

" But did you know nothing of all this ?" said Barbara.
*' Is it possible that your nephew would get married
without letting you know anything about it V '

'* I knew he was going to be married. I've talked
the matter over with him half a dozen times ; but 1 had
no idea that when he told me he was going to marry
Miss Camilla "White that she was the object of my heart's
desire. White is a common enough name. I know
fifty Whites."

" But surely," rejoined Barbara, who had now suffi-
ciently obtained control of herself to converse on the
2*

34 ME. OLDMLXON.

subject, ^' he did not know that you were in love with
the lady I"

*' Of course he did not I How could he ? 1 never
mentioned her name to him."

'' Then 1 don't think you ought to be angry with
him."

'' That seems to be very logical, Miss Henschel ; but
what has logic to do with love ? The more love the
less logic. Now, as in my case there was more love
than had ever existed before in any similar case, there is
an absolute absence of logic. Jack owes everything he
has in this world to me. His future is in my hands,
and I am going to punish him.

' I hate ingratitnde more in a man
Than lying, vainness, babbling, dmnkenness.
Or any taint of vice.*

" 1 went home at once, determined to let him feel the
lion's claws, and I altered my will, so that, instead of get-
ting a half a million when 1 die, he will get exactly
nothing. Nothing — that is, but one dollar."

" Oh, you are too hard on him !" exclaimed Barbara,
whose sympathies were now entirely diverted to the
young man and his youthful bride. '^ Doubtless he had
taken every means to inform you of what he was about
to do ; and if you did not understand, I do not think you
should blame him."

" But, my dear Miss Henschel — if you will kindly per-
mit a broken-hearted man to address you in that paternal
phrase — have I not already told you that this love is ab-
solutely devoid of logic? It has nothing to do with
reason. It is a matter of the heart alone. To be sure,
when 1 got home and looked over my invitations — as a
riile I never open them — I found the cards from the

A DISCONSOLATE LOVER. 35

Whites, a note from my nephew, and a pretty little one
from Camilla, hoping that 1 would break through my
habit and come, not only to the church, but to the re-
ception afterward. But all that doesn't make the matter
any better. 1 shall make him feel it.

' Though those that are betrayed
Do feel the treason sharply, yet the traitor
Stands in worse case of woe.*

Never shall a cent of mine go into his pocket."

"O Mr. Oldmixon, you will not be so unjust — so
cruelly unjust !"

" Yes, I will. That is exactly what 1 will be — cruelly
unjust. You have used the exact words. From this
time on, so far as Jack Oldmixon is concerned, I shall
be a changed man. Neither kindness nor justice shall
ever find a place in my bosom' ' — striking his breast over
his heart as he spoke — ^* for that traitor, that robber,
that wolf in sheep's clothing ! The well-spring of be-
nevolence that bubbled in my heart for him is frozen
deep down to its very source. He will starve, I am
happy to say, if I cut oflE his allowance — and cut it off
1 shall."

" I am very sorry," said Barbara, rising as though to
leave the room. ^' 1 suppose he loves her with all his
heart. Poor fellow ! 1 wish I could help him."

" And is all your sorrow for him ?" cried Mr. Old-
mixon, also rising. " Have you none for me ? He has
been victorious. I am defeated, heart-broken, and yet
you lavish your pity on him ! I must confess, Miss Hen-
schel, that I expected something different from you. "

*' I feel sorry for you," replied Barbara, who now
brought her good sense to bear on the subject, and who
thought that Mr. Oldmixon' s absurd conduct and ideas

36 MR. OLDMIXON.

Bhould not be allowed to pass as though she approved
them, " for 1 think you acted very foolishly. You
never told the lady that you cared for her ; your nephew
informed you of his attachment, and then, when you
accidentally find that you are both in love with the same
woman, you unjustly blame him, and you announce your
intention to treat him cruelly. It appears to me, too,"
she added, " that — that — "

^' Out with it !" interrupted Mr. Oldmixon. " You
think he is better suited for her on account of age, and
perhaps you would also have said intellect, than I am.
I admit it all. I am seventy-five — he is twenty-eight.
He is of sound mind. I am of unsound mind, or at
least queer, cranky, off my balance, or, to use a more
polite and scientific term, eccentric. Yes, he is better
suited to her than I am. His conduct throughout the
whole affair has been excellent, and mine has been ab-
surd ; but, as 1 told you, love is not a matter of logic, and
I'm going to disinherit him as sure as my name is Victor
Constantine Oldmixon ; and I have documentary evi-
dence of the strongest character that that is my real ap-
pellation. I shall leave the whole of my fortune to mj
other nephew, Hogarth Oldmixon, and to one other per-
son, in equal parfcs, share and share alike ; and Mr. Jack
shall not have enough to buy him a coffin. Hogaith is
a wild fellow, and I had not intended to give him a cent.
I've altered my will so far as Jack is concerned, for I did
not know but that I might die to-night — all the Oldmix-
ons die in their sleep, unless they are shot or hanged
or commit suicide — and I wanted to make sure of him.
If I die to-m*ght my whole estate will go to a new so-
ciety that I have established — ' The Society for the
Rehef of the Widows and Orphans of Deceased Plumb-

A DISCOKSOLATE LOVER. 37

ere ; ' but if I live till to-morrow I'll make a new will
such as I just mentioned."

" Is your other nephew an honorable man ?" inquired
Barbara, while Mr. Oldmixon, in his agitation, walked up
and down the floor, slashing his legs with his cane.

*^ Honorable 1 Yes, I suppose so ! Honorable enough
for this world, at any rate. To be sure, he drinks and
gambles and runs into debts that he can't pay, and does
other little things of the kind. But why do you ask ?
What has honorable got to do with it ?"

*^ Only," answered Barbara, ''if he is an honorable
man he will not take his brother's fortune, when he knows
how unjustly you have treated him. "

"Hal ha! ha!" laughed Mr. Oldmixon. "You
don't know Hogarth, that's clear. He'd take it if every
piece of gold was lying on the eyehds of my corpse. So
that he gets money he doesn't care where it comes from.
I had a thousand doUare stolen out of my room a year or
so ago, and I am very sure that Hogarth Oldmixon was
the thief."

" And that is the man," exclaimed Barbara, indig-
nantly, " you are going to reward with the fortune that
ought to go to his honest and honorable brother ! Mr.
Oldmixon, I am ashamed of you ! Yes, ashamed of you !
Good-morning !" and she moved toward the door, evi-
dently with the intention of ending the interview by leav-
ing her visitor alone.

" Stop, Miss Henschel ! For Heaven's sake, stop ! I
have not told you all yet ; and the fact is," he continued,
as Barbara stood by the door with her hand on the knob,
" I must ask year forgiveness for having slightly misled
you. The nephew who stole my treasure from under
my very nose is the same one that took my money. It's

38 MB. ojjDnnxonr.

the drunken, worthless, gambling fellow, Hogarth,
whereas Jack is as innocent as a babe. It's Hogarth I'm
going to disinherit. Jack I disinherited long ago. Kow
Fm going to reverse the proceeding. But, of course, it
would be just as cruel and unjust to poor Hogarth to de-
prive him of his fortune for marrying the woman I loved
as it would have been to cut Jack oflf, eh ?"

As Mr. Oldmixon uttered these last words he looked
at Barbara with a degree of sharpness in his expression
that was something of a revelation to her. What did he
mean ? Why had he come to her with this false story,
and then with a correction that he said embodied the
truth ? Was the whole account only the delusion of a
lunatic ? What was her opinion to him ? Why should
she be called upon to judge between the two nephews ?
All these questions, and others, too, suggested themselves
to her, and to none of them could she give answers that
were satisfactory to herself. She was in the midst of
her cogitations when Mr. Oldmixon's voice again struck
upon her ears.

CHAPTEE III.

A FAMILY PICTURE.

"I SUPPOSE, Miss Henschel," said Mr. Oldmixon,
coming up to Barbara and standing by her side, his head
scarcely reaching above her shoulder — '* 1 suppose that a
bad man can be treated unjustly as well as a good one,
eh ? An act that would be cruel and unfair to a model
of all the heavenly virtues would be just as cruel and
unfair if committed against a son of Belial, eh ? You
would advise me, then, not to disinherit this blackguard
that broke his poor mother's heart, stole my money, is
drunk nearly aU the time, is the sfisociate of the vilest
men in the city, and has now married a lovely girl upon
whom I had placed my affections ? "WTiat is sauce for
the goose is sauce for the gander, eh ?"

'' You have abeady shown me, Mr. Oldmixon," an-
swered Barbara, '^ that my opinion has no influence with
you. It is scarcely worth while, therefore, for me to say
anything more. Please allow me to go."

''No, not yet, please ! 1 rely on you, Miss Henschel,
to help me with your clear judgment, based, as it will
be, on such power of comprehension as few, in my opin-
ion, possess. You will kindly call to mind that when 1
first had the pleasure of meeting you 1 took advantage
of the occasion to indulge in a little philosophical dis-
play. If I have a weakness for anything, it is philoso-
phy. Well, your answers to my interrogatories were so

40 MR. OLDMtXON.

exactly in accordance with my own views that I said to
myself, ' Here is a woman who has learned how to
make use of her brain. I must not lose sight of her, for
perhaps some time or other I may want to use her.'
The time has come sooner than I expected. 1 want to
use you just as I would use a microscope or a telescope,
or a fine chemical balance — to enable me to get at a result
as nearly perfect as may be. Now, kindly allow me to
state the case without all the non-essential details that
may, by their obtrusiveuess, interfere With the power to
comprehend and, consequently, with the ability to
judge, and 1 pledge myself, in advance, to abide by
your decision and to carry it out in all its details with the
utmost fidelity."

Barbara was troubled. What right had this man to
come to her with his disputes, and his love afiEairs, and
his nephews, and put upon her the responsibility of dis-
posing of his estate ? For a moment she felt indignant ;
but then she soon recognized the fact that she had en-
couraged him already to the extent of warranting him in
asking her to go farther. In his misstatement of the
facts she saw, or thought she saw, that his prejudices
were all in favor of the wicked nephew, to whom he had
already given by his will the whole of his estate. It was
easy for her to perceive that this was the one whom, in
spite of his badness, Mr. Oldmixon loved. Probably
there were some good qualities about the young man
that the other nephew did not possess ; but she had
already seen sufficient of Mr. Oldmixon to cause her to
form the opinion that his mind was of so badly balanced
a character that he would be extremely likely in any
given case to do exactly the opposite of what ninety-nine
men in a hundred of normal mental organization would

A FAMILY PICTURE. 41

do under like circumstances. In a moment of irritation
he had gone home from the church and had altered his
will ; but why had he come to her with a misstatement of
the facts of the case ? She felt angry that he should
have thus played upon her, and she at once determined
that she would express no further opinion in regard to
the matter till he had given her a satisfactory explanation
of his conduct. At the same time she was forced to
admit that there was a strong possibility that the whole
story was manufactured either from a very small
groundwork of fact, or without there being the slightest
element of truth in its composition. She did not take
long to make up her mind. There was always a degree
of directness in Barbara's conduct that was one of the
strongest marks of the integrity of her mind and nervous
system. She thought promptly, as well as with perspic-
uity and force.

" Mr. Oldmixon,'' she said, " I do not think you have
treated me with entire frankness. You appear to me to
have endeavored — and with success, too — to lead me into
a trap. You have obtained from me an opinion which,
as you now admit, was based upon erroneous premises —
intentionally erroneous — ^that is, false premises given me
by you. I don't like such treatment, and unless you can
explain your conduct to my satisfaction I shall certainly
leave you to settle your troubles in your own way."

" And you would do exactly right if you did. But
mine, I respectfully submit, is not a case for justice so
much as it is one in which mercy should be exercised,
I admit that I was wrong, and 1 throw myself entirely
on your charity and forbearance. Besides, think of the
opportunity now given you of doing a service in the
cause of fair-dealing."

42 MB. OLDMIXON.

" But why did you place the matter before me in a
false light ?" said Barbara, adhering to the point she had
made. " 1 do not see the necessity for such a pro-
cedure. I like to be treated frankly."

''1 will tell you, Miss Henschel," replied Mr. Old-
mixon, lowering his voice almost to a whisper. " 1 was
a little in doubt relative to the correctness of the motive
that had actuated me in changing my will. I knew that
that worthless scamp would be left out in the cold ; but
when I came to think the matter over I was afraid that
the manner in which he had treated me was not the cause
that should have moved me to alter my intentions. I
thought, therefore, that I would make his case out to
you as that of a thoroughly good young man, knowing
that if your opinion was for me from the aspect of the
case I should give you, that it would be still more in my
favor when the matter was placed con'ectly before you*
But you decided against me, very much to my surprise,
and notwithstanding my repeated assertions that there
was no logic in the aflEair. Consequently, unless you will
hear me further — as I have now determined to be guided
by you — I shall go home and write a new will, restoring
that wretch to his former position as my heir, and leav-
ing his good, noble-hearted, and honorable brother out
in the cold without a dollar to bless himself with. Now,
what do you think of that V '

" It seems to me," answered Barbara, '* that you are
a very unjust man. Why did you make such a will, in
the first place ?"

'' Because 1 have no sense of justice in me. You are
entirely right when you say that 1 am an unjust man ; I
am governed entirely by feeling and impulse. That is
why 1 came to you. I want justice ; having none in

A FAMILY PICTURE. 43

my own composition, I ask you for it. Look at the mat-
ter, therefore, with your sense of truth, and decide for
me, according to the principles of justice — retributive or
tempered with mercy, as you may think best adapted to
the case in question."

*^ State the case to me, Mr. Oldmixon," said Barbara,
with an awakened interest. " You shall have my opin-
ion, and you can then do as you see fit."

^^ Thanks ; 1 shall do exactly as you say. Now,
listen ! But won't you sit down again ? Allow me !' '
And Mr. Oldmixon brought the chair that she had just
vacated to her ; and then, placing his own beside it, sat
down — ^af ter her, however — and resumed his recital.

" As I said just noW" — beginning again to strike his
shoes with his cane as he spoke — '^ I did a very unjust
thing when I made a will leaving everything 1 have in
the world to my nephew Hogarth, and nothing whatever
to my other nephew, Jack ; but I did not act without
reasons, although, as you will doubtless perceive, they
were of a very inadequate character. They are both the
sons of my only brother, Morley Oldmixon, who was
killed in a duel, many years ago, that he had himself
provoked. Jack is the elder of the two by three years,
but he takes after his mother ; there does not, in fact,
seem to be a bit of the Oldmixon stock about him, except
his name. Hogarth is, however, a true scion of our
house in appearance and in character. "We were all a
rather bad lot, I think. The founder of the house is
said to have been a pirate ; one of my ancestors was be-
headed for treason ; another was burnt at the stake
for heresy ; another broken on the wheel for highway
robbery in France ; others have suffered the penal-
ties of the law in various ways ; and Hogarth, if he

44 ME. OLDMIXOK,

has a fair cliance, will certainly be hanged. I myself
am a somewhat irregular sort of an individual, as you
probably have already perceived ; but in me the strain
has been modified by the fact that my mother was the
descendant of a race that has always been noted for
their virtues, and was herself the daughter of a bishop.
I am not, therefore, quite so bad as some of my an-
cestors.

^' We have always, however, notwithstanding the black
sheep in the family, been noted for our pride of ancestry
and for a tendency to stick to our villainous members
through thick and thin ; to protect them by all the means
at our disposal, and to lavish upon them all the good
gifts that it might be in our power to bestow.

" In pursuance of this inherent trait of character, so
soon as the two boys had begun to develop, and I saw
that Jack was a model of propriety and excellence in
everything, and that Hogarth was a combination of Jack
Sheppard, Captain Kidd, and the King of Ashantee, I
made my will in his favor.*'

^'It was a wicked thing for you to do !" exclaimed
Barbara, indignantly. " Very wicked and very unjust. "

" Ah ! that is exactly what 1 wanted you to say. Now,
1 have got an expression of opinion from you. Miss Hen*
schel, that will warrant me in entirely reversing the pro-
visions of my will. To-morrow morning I shall go to
my lawyer and 1 shall instruct him to draw up another
will, in which all my real and personal estate, of every
nature and description, shall be given to Jack Oldmixon,
under a certain condition, while Hogarth shall receive
the munificent sum of one dollar for the purpose of pur-
chasing a rope with which to hang himself. 1 have
heretofore given him an allowance of three thousand

A FAMILY PICTURE. 45

dollars a year, wliile I have left Jack to sliif t for himself.
1 shall change all that, too."

" But," asked Barbara, " is your younger nephew so
very bad as you represent ? Are you quite sure that you
have not, under the influence of the irritation you feel
at his marriage, unconsciously exaggerated his faults ?"

^* Oh, there's no mistake on that point. Why, it was
exactly on accoimt of his wickedness that I made him my
heir. 1 have already mentioned to you some of his acts.
I could make your hair stand on end if I were to specify
to you the tenth part of his crimes, not merely offences
against good order and decency, but actual violations of
law. No, he is hopelessly and irredaimably bad."

" And is your elder nephew altogether different V ' she
inquired, anxiously, for she felt now the weight of re-
sponsibility that rested upon her, though still not by any
means entirely convinced that Mr. Oldmixon was not a
veritable lunatic.

" As different as night is from day. Jack is tall,
Hogarth is short ; Jack is dark, Hogarth is fair ; Jack
is handsome, Hogarth is as ugly as the devil ; Jack is
honest, honorable, frank, and manly ; Hogarth is a thief,
a liar, a hypocrite, and a coward ; Jack works for his
living, and will, without aid from any one, rise to great-
ness ; Hogarth never did a useful piece of labor in his
life, and if he does not die from disease induced by his
excesses, will certainly be hanged. Jack is beloved by
every one that knows him ; Hogarth is despised and
hated by all respectable people as soon as he reveals his
true character."

** You did an awful wrong when you deserted the good
nephew for the bad one."

*^ That's right, give it to me ; regard yourself. Miss

46 HB. OLDMIXOK.

Henschel, as a physician, and me as a great big, disgust-
ing ulcer. Don't treat me with molasses when I require
aqua-fortis. Say to me, in the language of the poet,

< Thoa shalt be whipped with wire and stand in brine.
Smarting in lingering pickle.'

I deserve all you can say. But tell me in a few words,
please ; do you think 1 ought to change my will ?"

" If what you have told me is true, I think the sooner
you alter it the better. Such injustice ought not to
stand a moment longer than can be helped.''

'' And you give that opinion, Miss Henschel, alto-
gether uninfluenced by the fact that the wretch Hogarth
stole my beloved away from me ?"

'' I give it upon the information of his character that
you have just communicated to me. If what you say is
true, he must be a perfect monster. But how could he
succeed in ingratiating himself into the favor of the lady
whom you tell me he has just married ?"

'' Oh, he's the most specious rascal that ever lived !
You may depend upon it that he has brought to bear
upon her all his wiles and arts, and that she is thoroughly
deceived in regard to his character. Doubtless she
thinks him a paragon of all that is good and virtuous.
My word for it, she will not live with him a month.
My poor Camilla ! Little does she know the sorrow that
is in store for her. But, my dear Miss Henschel, you
have taken a load from my mind. I will leave you now,
with many heartfelt thanks for your goodness, and to-
morrow morning the wrong shall be undone ; I begin to
feel as though the Oldmixon tendencies were being
dragged out of me, and I can only attribute the change
to your influence. The moment my eyes rested upon

A FAMILY PICTUBE. 47

you for the first time, I said to myself, ' There is the
woman that can mould me into any form she pleases.'
Don't reply, I beg of you" — seeing that Barbara was
about to speak. *' Good-morning ! Ah, my bird ! I
must not forget that ' emblem of stainless purity ' that
you have made worthy to stand amid the productions of
artistic Paris or Rome. Good-by ! I will, with your
permission, call again." With which words Mr. Old-
mixon, with his bird in one hand, unlocked the street
door with the other, and passing out of the house entered
his carriage, and, after speaking a word or two to the
coachman, was driven rapidly np-town.

To say that Barbara was fully impressed with a sense
of the importance of the interview she had just had,
would very inadequately express the state of her feel-
ings. From whatever point she considered it, she saw
that it involved possibilities that she scarcely felt com-
petent to estimate at that moment at their full value.
That Mr. Oldmixon was of an erratic turn of mind was
very evident ; but he appeared to have a full knowledge
of what he wanted and intended to do. That he would
come to her with such a story as that that he had told,
knowing it to be false, was entirely out of the question.
There was no room for doubting his sincerity ; there had
been too much emotional disturbance for tliat. She had
seen his tears, his agitation, the change in his voice, and
the difficulty with which at times he had appeared to get
his breath. She saw, too, how, under the influence of
the vapor that he had inhaled — the strong odor of which
still remained in the room— he had become more com-
posed and able to go on with his recital

Besides, the account he had given was too systematic
and consistent to be false. She saw very clearly how

48 MB. OLDMIXON.

Mr. Oldmixon liad impressed his own individuality on
liis narrative ; she saw that there were many inferences
that he had drawn for which there was probably no war-
rant ; and these were the very strongest indications that
his mind was eccentric, to a degree almost reaching a
state of absolute insanity. Thus his egregious yanity
was shown in the opinion he had expressed that he might
at any time on the morning of Miss White's wedding
with his nephew have himself become the bridegroom
had he been aware of what was going on and had de-
clared his love for her. The same emotion had cropped
out in all that he had said, even when he had requested
her to strike hard and spare not, and when he had
bragged of the infamy that had been associated with
many members of his family. He seemed to revel in
the depravity of his nephew Hogarth, and to be proud
of the fact that there was little probability of finding his
equal in wickedness.

But apart from this mental peculiarity and the extreme
susceptibility to the attractions of women that he exhib-
ited, there did not appear to be any defects in Mr. Old-
mixon's intellectual processes. His methods of reason-
ing seemed to her to be exact, if they were somewhat
peculiar. They might be, and doubtless were, marked
by his individual idiosyncrasies ; but there was nothing
in them to indicate that he did not possess a mind that
was within the normal limits of soundness, however
irregular it might be. His facts were stated coherently
and with a degree of precision and force that carried
conviction with their enunciation, and the impression of
their truth was not essentially weakened by the admis-
sion he l^jid voluntarily made, that he had deceived her
in regard to the nephew who had interfered with the

A FAMILY PICTUBE. 49

course of his love for Miss Camilla White ; for the de-
ception had been perpetrated with an object, and was
only another evidence of his shrewdness.

But what did it all mean ? she asked herself. Why
had Mr. -Oldmixon come to her to be the repository of
his secrets and to aid him in his schemes for and against
his nephews ? He had said that he had been attracted
by the knowledge of philosophy that she had displayed
during his first interview with her a few days previously ;
but she was not conscious of having shown that she pos-
sessed any such knowledge. Barbara had received a
good education, though I am afraid that the majority of
the young-lady graduates of our colleges would have
turned up their sophomorically intellectual noses at the
statement of the extent of her scholastic acquirements.
The most important educational feature of Barbara's
mental development was, that she had learned how to
think ; whereas, the young-lady graduates aforesaid are,
in general, supremely ignorant of that cerebral process.
When she was about twelve years of age a sister of her
father's, Fraulein Ernestine Herischel, who had been a
school-teacher in Copenhagen, came over to America, at
her brother's request, to take the care of his household,
his wife having died a few months previously. This
lady was thoroughly acquainted with the science of
pedagogics, having received a very complete course of
instruction in a school especially established in Copen-
hagen by the queen for the education of young women
desirous of becoming teachers. Her aunt took charge,
not only of her brother's household establishment, which,
not being extensive, required very little of her time, but
of Barbara's education as well, and she had kept it till

Hans Callisen followed her from Denmark, married her,
3

50 MB. OLDMIXON.

and took her to Minnesota when she had nearly reached
her fortieth year. But by that time Barbara had had
the benefit of her aunt's knowledge and training for six
years, till she was eighteen years of age, in fact ; and
though she could neither be said to have received what
is called an ornamental education, nor one like that given
to young women at some of our institutions devoted to
the enlightenment of the female mind, she had laid in a
stock of solid information in the languages and sciences
that not one graduate of Macassar College in a hundred
can pretend to possessing. Her profession as a taxider-
mist had given her a love for zoology, and she had given
special attention not only to this branch of knowledge,
but to all other departments of natural history. She
was a good botanist and mineralogist, in addition to hav-
ing a practical acquaintance with the science of living
beings that would have put many a college professor to
the blush.

But as to philosophy, she was about as much acquainted
with it as was the gentleman with prose, which he
found, to his surprise, he had been speaking all his life.
She had never read a line of Plato, or Spinoza, or Kant,
or Hegel, or even of Emerson. In fact, she had never,
so far as she could have told, looked into a work on
metaphysics or psychology, and she knew absolutely
nothing of the many theories of the mind that ingenious
Frenchmen like Descartes, or Englishmen like Locke, or
Scotchmen like Hamilton, had promulgated. But for all
this, it would not be correct to say that she was ignorant
of mental philosophy. Indeed, she knew a good deal
about it ; but she had acquired her knowledge not by
studying the writings of others, but by practising that
habit of introspection which, sooner or later, all thinking

A FAMILY PICTURE, 51

people acquire, and by which more is often to be learned
relative to the operations of the human mind than is to
be acquired from books.

Bringing to bear, as well as she could in a brief time
and in her agitated condition, the experience she had
gained by her self-examinations, she came to the conclu-
sion that Mr. Oldmixon had really been moved by a de-
sire to obtain her opinion, having probably some doubt
relative to his ability to judge correctly in a matter in
which his feelings were involved. She called to mind
the earnestness of his speech and the sharpness of his
facial expression when he questioned her, just after he
had informed her of the erroneous impression he had
given her relative to the two nephews. She felt sure,
too, that he would act in accordance with the views she
had expressed, and she began to experience a sense of
the responsibility she had incurred in advising him to
change his will. What if the nephew Hogarth were
neither so bad as his uncle had depicted him, nor Jack
so good ? Then the guilt of an unjust act — if guilt there
were — would not rest on her shoulders. She had acted in
accordance with assertions that she had a right to believe
were true. If they were true, then she was satisfied
with the part she had taken.

She looked at the clock that hung on the wall over the
desk in the office. It was after twelve. Mr. Oldmixon
had kept her over half an hour from her work, and she
had yet a good deal to do before she could honestly say
that she had done a day's labor. She therefore went
into the back room, where her father, assisted by Peter,
was doing the first part of the work required in the
mounting of a fine specimen of that rare animal, the
silver fox.

62 HB. OLDKIXOK.

*^ Well, Barbara !" exclaimed the old man, as she
made her appearance, *'if you had thought Mr. Old-
mixon was going to keep you nearly three quarters of an
hour over his bird, you would have charged him ten dol-
lars for it, wouldn't you ?"

^*He did not keep me about the bird, father," she
answered. '^ It was about something of much more im-
portance."

'' Another order, I suppose," said Mr. Henschel, who
under all circumstances had that keen eye to business
and profit that the Scandinavian generally displays.

" No ; he said nothing on the subject. I don't think
he has any more work at present. But he had a good
deal to say about some family matters, and he asked my
advice. To-night I'll ask you to tell me whether I did
right or not. "

'' Ah I my dear, you know more about such things
than I do. But now I'll get you to give a little shaping
to this fox, and Peter can go back to the oflSce. It's a
rare specimen of an animal that is every day becoming
rarer. I suppose this skin is worth three hundred dollars.
Did you ever see anything so beautiful ? Now, the owner
of this is a man after my own heart. He'd rather have
it mounted as a work of art than sell it to some furrier
to cut up into muflEs and collars and such things for rich
women to wear."

" Who is the owner, father ?"

" Oh, I don't know. I didn't ask his name. He said
he'd send or call for it next week ; but he didn't come in
a carriage, and he didn't look as if he had any more
money than he wanted."

^' It's a beautiful specimen ; the finest I ever saw."

'^ Yes, the very finest. I offered him three hundred

A FAMILY PICTURE. 63

dollars for it, bnt he said no ; he had killed it himscK
last winter while with the Hudson's Bay Company, and
he wouldn't sell it. Now, my dear, I leave it to you to
put the proper expression into its. face and attitude. Re-
member, that in its natural state it's the slyest of all of
its kind. However, I can't tell you anything about the
habits of animals that you don't know. It's your knowl-
edge! on this subject that makes you the true artist that
you are and the best taxidermist in this country, if not in
the world."

CHAPTEK lY.

FATHER AND DAUGHTER.

The house occnpied by Mr. Henschel as his residence
and place of business, although not situated in a part of
New York that would have been called fashionable, was,
nevertheless, in one that was eminently respectable.
Many years ago it had been occupied by well-to-do
tradesmen,who lived in comfort, if not in luxury ; but in
the course of time, with the constantly increasing demands
of trade, most of the residences had been altered so as
the better to adapt them to the newer purposes for which
they were required. It was in one of these that the
Henschels lived.

The lower floor was entirely, with the exception of the
kitchen — situated at the extreme rear of the building — de-
voted to the business of taxidermy. The front room,
which opened directly upon the street, served as an office
and show-room. It was lined with glass cases, and in
them were contained some of the most choice specimens
of his and his daughter's skill ; for they not only mounted
animals to order, but did a good business by keeping a
stock on hand to supply the wants of museums in various
parts of the country, or of individuals looking for speci-
mens of birds or animals to place in their halls, libraries,
or dining-rooms. During one year he had received orders
for nearly three hundred buflEalo, elk, antelope, mountain

FATHER AND DAFGHTER. 55

sheep, and other heads, from gentlemen who wished to
use them to ornament the walls of their houses.

In addition to the work of mounting animals, Mr.
Henschel had a good deal to do in the way of furnishing
collections in botany, mineralogy, and conchology to
colleges, academies, and private persons. He was well
known to scientific men in all parts of the civilized world,
and was held in high esteem by them. They took great
pleasure, many of them, in sending him duplicates of the
specimens in natural history that they had collected in
their explorations, or had received in exchange, and he, in
his turn, had given them many valuable and interesting
additions to their collections, that he had received from
seafaring men, with whom he had always kept on good
terms, and who were in the habit of bringing him the
curiosities that they had picked up in various parts of the
world.

It is impossible for a taxidermist not to acquire some
knowledge of natural history. It generally happens,
however, that his acquirements in this direction do not ex-
tend beyond those practical points that are gathered from
the collectors and scientific persons with whom he comes
in contact. It was very different, however, with Mr.
Henschel, as we have seen it was with his daughter. From
the time when he was a boy and an apprentice to old
Rasmus Olafsen, the learned taxidermist of Copenhagen,
he had studied from books, and had thus obtained a knowl-
edge of the science that the mere mounting of the animals
that came under his hands would never have given him.
These, it is true, served him in good stead in his studies,
for he was enabled to use them for purposes of iden-
tification ; but they could never have taught him the
classification and internal structure of organic beings.

66 ME. OLDMLXOW.

BcBidcs books, he had the advantage of much personal
instruction from Professor Bording, who not only held a
higli position in the University, but was, besides, a knight
of the order of Daneborg. This learned man took a great
interest in young Ilenschel, and not only allowed him to
attend his lectures, but gave him, in addition, much private
instruction. He introduced him to Thorwaldsen, then
in the very zenith of his fame. From this greatest of
modem sculptors the young man imbibed that love for
' art that had always been a governing motive with him.
lie had, in fact, gone so far as to take lessons in sculpture
and to produce two or three works that his master thought
gave evidence of his possession of decided talent ; but he
soon found that the road to greatness, or even respectable
mediocrity in the vocation of a sculptor, was not only long
and painful, but that it would be many years before he
could rely on it for a pecuniary support. The weariness,
the anxieties, the disappointments, the rebuffs he could
have stood ; but it was necessary for him to live by his
labor. So, when a Danish gentleman whom he knew
returned from a visit to New York and told him that
there was a fine chance in that city for a skilful and ar-
tistic taxidermist, young Henschel married the pretty
peasant girl with whom he had long been in love, and,
with less than a hundred dollars in his pocket, started for
New York. For a time things went hard with him.
Several children were born to him, but they had all died
young, till, when he was well advanced in life, Barbara
came into the world, different, apparently, in physical con-
stitution from the others ; for she had always been a vig-
orons and healthy child, and had grown up into woman-
hood without ever having had a day's sickness. Her
Iftdier had often declared with great delight that he had

FATHER AND DAFGHTEE. 67

never known a day that Barbara could not eat three
hearty meals.

It was very natural that Mr. Henschel should apply to
his daughter the principles that had been instilled into
him in Denmark. Barbara had, in fact, been reared in an
atmosphere of natural science. By the time she could
talk she had learned to recognize and to designate by
their names the many kinds of animals that were con-
tinually passing under her observation, and ere long she
could classify them into groups from the characteristics
that she noticed they possessed. ^* Pick out all the
cats, Barbara," her father would say to her, and then the
little girl would go round from case to case and point out
the tiger, the panther, the ocelot, the cougar, the lynx.
Over the lion she was at first a little puzzled. ' * He looks
like a cat, and he doesn't," she said. '* He's got such a
big head and so much hair on it ; but his wife " — pointing
to a lioness that stood by the side of her lord — *' looks
just like a cat. I think all the wives are more like cats
than the husbands." Then Mr. Henschel had chucked
his wife under the chin. " Do you hear that, my dear ?"
he said, laughing heartily. " All the wives are more cat-
like than the husbands. What a sharp little body she is !"

By exercises like these little Barbara ere long became an
accomplished practical zoologist. As she grew older she
began to assist her father in his work, and from the very
first she developed an artistic sense that the old man de-
clared was so delicate, refined, and yet bold, that, if she
could have advantages such as had been offered him when
he was a boy in Copenhagen, would bring her to the front
as one of the leading sculptors of the world. Of course
Mr. Henschel was prejudiced in his daughter's favor, and

hence his opinions of her genius were to be taken with
3»

58 ME. OLDMIXON.

many grains of allowance ; but for all that, there was no
doubt of her having a genuine aptitude for original work.
She had modelled several subjects in clay, and had done
them so well that they had attracted the marked attention
of several artists of her father's acquaintance. One of
them — an Apache Indian hunting a buflEalo, and just in
the act of discharging an arrow into the heart of the ani-
mal as he rides alongside of him on his mustang — was so
greatly admired for its fideUty to nature, as well as for
the life and spirit that she had thrown into the composi-
tion, that her father was persuaded to have it cast in
bronze. In this form it was placed on exhibition at
Tiffany's in New York, at Bailey's in Philadelphia, and
in like places in other large cities, and a great many were
disposed of at fair prices, to the decided aggrandizement
of the Henschel exchequer.

It was during a journey that her father made to the
"West, under the auspices of the Smithsonian Institution,
and in which she accompanied him, that she obtained the
requisite knowledge from life not only for the modelling
of the Apache Indian and the buffalo, but for mounting
many of the specimens in natural history that came to her
hands. Congress had made an appropriation for construct-
ing a road from Fort Kiley, in Kansas, to Bridger's Pass,
in the Rocky Mountains, and the authorities in charge of
the Smithsonian Institution, ever alive to the advantages to
science to be derived from such expeditions, had obtained
authority for Mr. Henschel and his daughter to accom-
pany the engineer party and troops, charged with the
laying out and making of the road, for the purpose of
collecting specimens of the natural history of the region
of country through which the route passed. This jour-
ney had been of the utmost service to Barbara in more

FATHER AND DAUGHTER. 69

than one respect. It had enlarged her ideas, given her
an acquaintance with nature in some of its wildest forms,
which she could otherwise never have obtained, rendered
her more self-reliant than she had ever been before, and
put the finish to her physical organization, which, strong
though it had been, was now rendered doubly so by the life
in the open air for nearly six months, a horseback jour-
ney of nearly two thousand miles, and that abstraction
from the requirements of civilization which always invig-
orates those upon whom its influence is brought to bear.
Barbara was about eighteen years of age when this
journey was taken. Since her return her father had con-
stantly urged upon her the advantages that would accrue
to her were she to devote herself exclusively to sculpture
and modelling ; but she, knowing how necessary she was
to him so long as he continued to carry on the business
of a taxidermist, had resisted all his importunities. He
was old ; it was not likely that, in the course of nature, he
would live many years longer ; there was now plenty of
work for them, and a good income was derived from their
joint labors ; but Barbara knew that if she retired from
the practical part of the business that orders would fall off.
It was just as her father had said. The people who re-
quired work done in taxidermy were well aware that
Barbara was the artistic h^ad of the establishment, and
they wanted her to superintend the mounting of their spec-
imens. So far as she herself was concerned, nothing
would have given her more pleasure than to have entered
definitely upon an artist's career such as her father de-
sired for her. On the morning that she is introduced to
the reader he had spoken more openly upon the subject
and more to the point than ever before. She had pre-
viously known very little in regard to his financial condi-

60 MR. OLDMIXON*.

tion. She knew, however, that he must have laid by
enough to place him and herself above want ; but now she
was well aware, from her acquaintance with his modes
of speech, that he was at least a moderately wealthy man.
"When he admitted that he had enough to live on without
work, and at the same time give her all the opportunities
requisite for her obtaining proficiency in the art that he
wished her to adopt as a profession, it meant that he had
accumulated suflBcient of this world's goods to satisfy his
ambition in that direction. She knew that he was of an
acquisitive disposition. The only fault she had ever been
able to detect in him was a slight tendency to avarice and
miserliness. This was not possessed to an extent that ren-
dered him an object of mark among those who knew him ;
but occasionally, as the reader has already doubtless per-
ceived, it cropped out. Yes, if he was willing to stop
work and spend a small fortune to place her favorably
before the world as an artist, he must be rich.

It would be an easy thing to get rid of the business
upon favorable terms. Peter, whose surname was Swain,
had been with them in the capacity of an assistant and
man of all work for nearly ten years. He had very little
money of his own, but he had a wealthy friend who was
willing to furnish the requisite capital for the purchase
of the stand and the good-will as a set-off to his knowl-
edge and time. Mr. Dibble, the gentleman referred to,
had inspected the premises and examined the books, and
had arrived at the conclusion that the fifty thousand
doUare required for the purchase-money would yield
over fourteen per cent profit, which, if he gave six to
Peter, would leave him a net income of eight per cent.
Peter, however, had other views, that were somewhat an-
tagonistic to those of Mr. Dibble. The names of " Dib-

FATHEE AND DAUGHTER. 61

blo and Swain, Taxidermists," would look well in gold
letters on a black ground across the front of the house ;
but the name of ' ' Peter Swain, ' ' or even those of ' * Hen-
schel and Swain," would look better. Peter had come
from central New York when he joined his forces with
those of Mr. Henschel. At the time that he is intro-
duced to the reader he was about twenty-eight years of
age, fairly good-looking, and possessed of such an educa-
tion as the majority of farmers' sons in the State of New
York pick up from the common schools. He was honest
and attentive to his business, and Mr. Henschel had
always given him good wages. Peter was, however,
ambitious to better his condition, as is every American
boy of average intelligence, no matter into what station
of life he is bom. He wanted to succeed Mr. Henschel
when the latter came to retire, and he wanted to be either
his own master or to maintain only a nominal connection
with the name of Henschel. The only way that he could
perceive by which he could accomplish either of these
ends was to marry Barbara Henschel. He was not in
love with her ; in fact, such an element as sentiment did
not enter into his mental organization. He was a matter-
of-fact man, and marriage with him, if he ever married,
would be an affair of the head and not of the heart — one
that would be prompted by intelligence, and not by emo-
tion. In this respect Peter was not unlike the majority
of young people, men or women, who in these times enter
into the matrimonial state.

He had never hinted at such a thing to either Mr.
Henschel or Barbara. While he had a very good opinion
of himself, he was by no means sure that any advances
ho might make in the direction in question would be
favorably received by either of the parties concerned.

62 MR. OLDMIXON.

So far as family went, doubtless his was as good as hers,
perhaps better ; but in the matter of their individualities
he was not so blind but that he was ready to admit that
hers was superior to his, and that when she contemplated
marriage she would look for a man of better parte than
was he. In fact, so distant did the prospect appear of
his being able to accomplish the object that stood high
up in his scale of desirable things, that he scarcely vent-
ured to consider it as within the limits of probability,
and had latterly been giving more attention to the culti-
vation of friendly relations with Mr. Dibble than to mak-
ing advances to Barbara. He had once tried to place
himself in such a position as would, he thought, inevita-
bly lead to the establishment of more intimate relations
between himself and the Henschels than had heretofore
existed ; but this attempt had met with such a decided
repulse that it had very much the effect upon his wishes
that a wet blanket has upon a fire. He lived away from
the Henschels, and he had conceived the idea that it.
would on several accounts be desirable for him to reside
with them. There was a nice room on the third floor
that would just suit him, and it would be much more
comfortable for him to take his meals with them than to
eat in the company of the rather irreverent young men
who ridiculed his profession and who constituted the band
of table boarders of Mrs. Daly's establishment. In his
application to Mr. Henschel to be allowed to take up his
abode with him he had placed the matter on the grounds
of its affording him increased facilities for attending to
the business ; and that as the room that he proposed to
occupy was empty, the granting of it to him would, with
his board, be the means of adding a respectable sum to
the income of the Henschel family.

FATHEB AND DAUGHTER. 63

But Mr. Henschel was very decided in the expression
of his indisposition to accede to Peter's views relative to
the means of becoming more sociable with his employ-
er's family. He stated that he and his daughter were in
the habit of conversing during their meals on matters
that concerned them alone, and that the intrusion of a
third party into their family circle would be intolerable.
He was, however, kind enough to state that he would
consult with Barbara on the subject and ascertain what
she had to say about it, though he could not give Peter
any ground for hoping that the decision would be re-
versed. He did lay the matter before his daughter,
and her opinion was even more emphatic than that of her
father against the desirability of any change in their home
arrangements ; thereupon Peter had seen that there was
not much prospect of his ever becoming, by marriage, a
member of Mr. Henschel's family. But he was a good,
honest fellow, who was held in high esteem not only by
Mr. Henschel, but by Barbara likewise. He was well
acquainted with the art of taxidermy so far as its prac-
tical details were concerned, but he had never evinced
much inclination for the scientific connections of the
profession. He was literally an ^'animal-stuffer," and
nothing more. His intentions toward Barbara were,
therefore, almost as preposterous as would have been the
love of a sailor on a man-of-war for the daughter of his
captain. Barbara had the refinement that comes from
education and association with educated and refined
people. Her father's house was visited by learned men
from all parts of the world, and she had been thrown
into more or less intimate relations with many of them.
She had thus become acquainted with their ideas on
many subjects outside of taxidermy and with modes of

64 MR. OLDMIXON.

thought of which Peter Swain had not the most distant
conception. Upon one occasion she had been invited to
spend a month during the summer at the sea-shore with
Mrs. Lawson, whose husband was professor of mineralogy
and geology in the Franklin Scientific School ; and again
another month with the family of Professor Senstone, at
their country-seat on Cayuga Lake. It was no uncom-
mon event for ladies whose husbands were of scientific
proclivities to invite her to their houses, at which she was
always treated with due consideration as a lovely, intel-
ligent, and good girl, in whose society it was pleasant to
be. From the associations thus afforded her, Barbara,
without losing in the slightest degree the natural inde-
pendence of her character, had acquired the polish of
manner that can only come from personal communica-
tions with persons of good breeding. Her father and
mother and aunt, though plain people, were not unrefined.
They had that intuitive repugnance to coarseness that is
so generally met with in the European artisan of the
highest class ; and though they might have felt out of
place at a court- ball, for instance, they would certainly
not have perpetrated, even in the presence of Majesty it-
self, any act calculated to offend the sensibilities or to
interfere with the comfort of the royal guests. Barbara,
therefore, had started well, and her opportunities for ac-
quiring a gentle presence had not been neglected.

A residence of nearly fifty years in the United States
had converted Mr. Henschel into a thoroughgoing Amer-
ican. He spoke the language with the ease and fluency
of an educated native, and often said, laughingly, that he
believed Danish was fading out of his memory, as the oc-
casions for using it were so few and far between. He
did not, however, altogether break with the old country.

FATHER AND DAUGHTEE. 65

He had been, ever since his arrival, a subscriber to a
Copenhagen newspaper, and he had made two visits to
that city and to the little village where he was bom. The
last one had been undertaken with the idea that he might
possibly decide to return to his native land, and there
pass the remainder of his days ; but he soon found that
his long residence in America had given him ideas and
habits entirely inconsistent with those of the people
among whom he would have to live, and, moreover, that
his old companions were either dead or had ceased to take
any pleasure in his society. He had, tlieref ore, returned
rather disgusted with Denmark and its people, and de-
claring that the land of his adoption was good enough
for him, and that he hoped that when the time came for
him to die, he would be found in the country that had
been his home for nearly half a century ; where his
children had been born, and where the bones of his dead
wife rested.

From all of which it will doubtless appear to the reader
that the father and daughter had much upon which to
congratulate themselves. He had been successful far be-
yond his most sanguine expectations, so far as material
prosperity was concerned. The death of his wife and
four sons had been heavy blows to him ; but with time the
sharpness of them had been blunted, to which result the
constant association with his daughter and a community
of interests and opinions had essentially contributed.
There was very little to disturb the mental equanimity
that was such a striking element of his disposition. In
fact, there was nothing but one subject that greatly dis-
turbed him, and that was his ambition that Barbara should
become famous. This idea had become a passion with
him — a somewhat remarkable fact, for it is not often

66 MB. OLDMIXOK.

that an old man is capable of any very intense develop-
ment of feeling in a matter that does not intimately con-
cern his personal ease and enjoyment. The aged are
almost invariably selfish, and Mr. Henschel was no ex-
ception to the rule, save in the one respect mentioned.
So far as his daughter was concerned, he was capable of
making any sacrifice within his power to accomplish her
well-being and happiness. Her future was the one
theme upon which he was never tired of dilating, and he
had spoken only the truth when he declared that when
he could know that she had acquired the world-wide
distinction to which he thought her genius entitled her,
he would die content. To put her in the way, so far as
he could, by any act or line of conduct, to reach the pin-
nacle upon which he conceived that she ought to stand,
was the one all-absorbing emotion that filled his breast.

CHAPTER V.

MAKING A WILL — JACK OLDMIXON.

Mr. Oldmixon was as good as his word. A night's re-
flection had only tended to make him more fixed in his
intention of changing his will. He began, too, to flatter
himseK that he was really actuated by a sense of right
toward one whom he had hitherto shamefully neglected,
and of stem justice toward that other, who had never in
all his life done anything to deserve the unlimited kind-
nesses of which he had been the recipient. He had
arrived at the point of believing that no feeling of resent-
ment entered into the matter, and with that facility with
which people generally persuade themselves that the
thing they desire to do is right, had brought himself to
the conviction that whether Hogarth had or had not
married Miss White he would in time, through his own
seK-communings, have been prompted to act toward the
young man exactly as he was now acting.

" It was only a question of a few days or weeks, or at
most months," he said to himself, as he was eating his
breakfast at the Lucullus Club on the morning after his
conversation with Barbara. '' I was rapidly arriving at
the knowledge that 1 had made a mistake. This marriage
of the scamp has only precipitated matters, that's all."

He rang the bell that stood on the table.

" Bring me a morning paper," he said to the waiter
that answered the summons. " Any one will do."

68 ME. OLDMIXON.

'' Yes," he continned, as the man, having brought him
a paper, had retired at an intimation that his presence was
not required ; ^' here it is !

'^ 'Married on the 4th inst., at Trinity Chapel, New
York, by the Rev. Thomas Colightly, Camilla, daughter
of Jabez White, Esq., to Hogarth Oldmixon, son of the
late Morley Oldmixon, Esq., and nephew of Victor Con-
stantino Oldmixon, Esq. '

'^ The barefaced rascal, to dare to announce himself as
my nephew I Little does he know what's in store for
him. I'll give him a lesson in decency if I can't give
him one in morality. I'd like to lay a horsewhip over
his shoulders, and I'd do it, too, if I had one now and he
was within reach of my arm."

Then, after finishing his breakfast, Mr. Oldmixon,
who never walked if he could help it, got into his coup6
that stood at the door of the Lucullus, and drove down-
town to the office of his legal adviser, Mr. Theobald
Ridley. He had in a large pocketbook the will that he
had made several years since and the draft of the new
one that he wished put into legal form.

Mr. Ridley was engaged when he entered the room in
which clients waited till the great man of the law was
ready to receive them ; so, having nothing better to do,
he took out the paper containing the memoranda of the
provisions of the new will he contemplated making, and
perused and reperused them, with the object of as-
certaining whether or not he had sufficiently covered his
intentions with his words. Mr. Oldmixon had a clear
head for business, and, besides that, he was, in spite of his
eccentricity in the matter of one-sided love aflEairs with
women he did not know — in which he displayed a de-
gree of imbecility that would have disgraced an idiot — a

MAKING A WILL — ^JACK OLDMIXON. 69

shrewd, sharp man, who could see as far into other peo-
ple's motives and schemes as was necessary for his purposes.
He had not been deceived by his nephew Hogarth. He
had always known that he was a bad fellow, but he was
an Oldmixon in mind and body, whereas Jack was not ;
and this fact had been the determining factor in causing
him to make the will which he was now on the point of
reversing.

He did not, however, find anything to change, so that
when Mr. Eidley sent for him he was more than ever
firmly convinced that he had done, not only what he had
intended doing, but that his intentions were right.

The lawyer glanced over both papers while his client sat
eying him keenly and observing, with gratification, the
expression of astonishment that came over his counte-
nance. Mr. Oldmixon's vanity was of such a high degree
of development that it was gratified beyond measure
when any act of his excited surprise or interest in those
about him. He was pleased when he could arouse an
emotion in others. It showed power.

*' Do you know, Mr. Oldmixon," said Mr. Ridley, after
he had made himself acquainted with the contemplated
provisions of the new will, ^' that this is a somewhat re-
markable paper ?"

'^ Yes, Mr. Ridley, I am fully aware of that fact."

" As I understand the matter, you desire to disinherit
your nephew Hogarth and to make your nephew John
your heir."

^^ Precisely ! 1 think that is very evident."

" Yes, yes, it's clear enough ;but in conjunction with
your bounty to this young man you have imposed the
most extraordinary conditions that I ever heard of, and I
am not a man without experience in such matters."

70 MB. OLDHIXON.

" Yes, they are extraordinary, I admit ; bnt, then, the
occasion is extraordinary."

'' I am not quite sure that they would stand in law."

'^ I'll risk that. I'm something of a lawyer myself, and
1 am not altogether ignorant of such matters."

^^ 1 suppose you have no objection to tell me the mo-
tives that influence you in this matter ?"

^ ' Yes, I have a very strong objection to doing anything
of the kind."

" Oh, well, it doesn't make any difference. I only
thought there might be something in which you were
misinformed or in which you were acting hastily."

'' No ; I am fully acquainted with all the facts of the
case, and 1 am acting with more than my usual delibera-
tion."

'* Then," said Mr. Ridley, looking over the paper that
he still held in his hand, ^'as I understand the matter,
you wish to give by your will your entire estate, real and
personal, except the sum of one dollar, to your nephew
John Oldmixon."

^^That is my desire," answered Mr. Oldmixon, in a
tone of voice as mechanical as though he were saying his
catechism, for he thought he had made his intention
sufficiently plain, and that Mr. Ridley's caution was su-
perfluous.

" And the condition is, that he shall, within one year
after your decease, marry a certain lady whose name is left
blank."

" Yes ; I'll fill in the name ; but I've no objection to
telling, in the strictest confidence, that her name is Bar-
bara Henschel."

^* And in case he should refuse or neglect, from any

UAKINa A WILL — ^JACK OLDMIXON. 71

cause whatever, to marry tlie said Barbara Henschel, then
the estate is to go to her."

Mr. Oldmixon nodded his head in affirmation.

*^ 1 suppose you have not overlooked the fact that if
Barbara Henschel should take the initiative in the matter,
and declare that she will not marry your nephew, that she
would become your heiress."

" 1 am perfectly well aware of that fact, and I had it
distinctly in view when I wrote out that memorandum."

" Then you might as well, so far as the money is con-
cerned, make her your heiress at once, for you have put
it in her power to get your money. Of course you
know that the probability is, that she will prefer to be
her own mistress and to many whom she pleases."

*^ 1 know all that as well as you do, Mr. Ridley," said
Mr. Oldmixon, with a little stiffness of manner not devoid
of impatience, ''and if the disposition of ray estate had
been my chief object, I should have made a some-
what different will from that that I now contemplate.
Knowing you as well as I do, I suppose you are possessed
of sufficient discernment to perceive that the bestowal
of my money is not the prime purpose of the document
I desire you to prepare."

" You wish, above all things, to secure a marriage be-
tween your nephew John and this Miss Henschel ?" in-
quired Mr. Ridley.

" Certainly I do !"

" Then, don't you see that the provisions of the will
must be kept an absolute secret from her — that, in fact, no
one must know of thera except your nephew John ?"

''Of course I do, Mr. Ridley I" exclaimed Mr. Old-
mixon, jumping up from his chair and beginning to slash
his shoes with his cane. " Of course I do! Do you

72 MR. OLDMIXOir.

take me for an idiot that doesn't know his own mind ?
Of course I'm peculiar ; I show it in many of my acts, and
1 suppose it is apparent in these memoranda ; but pe-
culiarity is neither imbecility nor insanity, is it ?"

"No," answered Mr. Kidley, laughing; "there are
many examples of eccentric wills that have stood the tests
of the courts. Mere eccentricity will not a£Fect the
validity of a will. If it did, such a one as this" — ^taking
as he spoke a law journal from the table and turning over
a few leaves — " would have been upset beyond a doubt.
Here," he continued, " is a man who is represented as
having been a shrewd, successful business man, who had
accumulated a large fortune. He had never exhibited
any sign of insanity ; but 1 think you will admit that his
will is even more eccentric than yours. He disinherits
all his natural heirs, and devises all his property in trust
for the establishment of an infirmary for cats. A most
elaborate architectural plan for the necessary buildings
is attached to and made part of the will. It provides
areas for that sweet amatory converse so dear to the feline
heart, and rat-holes of the most ravishing nature to be kept
well-stocked. The most ingenious contrivances are pro-
vided for securing to the rat a chance to escape, so that
the cats may not lose the pleasure of the chase by finding
their prey come too easily. High walls are to be built
with gently sloping roofs for the moonlight promenade
and other nocturnal amusements of the cats. The trus-
tees are directed to select the grounds for this novel in-
firmary in the most populous part of some great American
city, and the devisees are to be protected by a competent
force of nurses from the ravages of men and dogs. No
person of the male sex is ever to be admitted within the
walls, and no female that has children or that is under

MAKING A WILL — ^JACK OLDMIXON. TS

thirty years of age. There are a hundred or more minute
directions that 1 pass over."

" The man was crazy, of course !" said Mr. Oldmixon,
contemptuously. " You don't mean to compare my will
to that, do you ?"

" Not exactly. I only intended to show you that there
are more eccentric wills than yours. This one has just
come before the courts, and has not yet been adjudicated
upon. If it is sustained, you need have no fear of yours
not being upheld. But I have not yet finished with the
will for the protection and well-being of cats. One would
suppose that in the foregoing provisions the testator had
exhausted all the eccentricities of one man, however
unique his nature ; but the last provision of the will seems
more outrageously whimsical than any that precede it.
Says the devisor : ^ I have all my life been taught to be-
lieve that everything in and about man was intended to be
useful, and that it was man's duty, as lord of the animals,
to protect all the lesser species, even as God protects and
watches over him. For these two combined reasons — ^first,
that my body even after death may continue to be made
useful, and second, that it may be made instrumental, as
far as possible, in furnishing a substitute for the protec-
tion of the bodies of my dear friends, the cats, 1 do hereby
devise and bequeath the intestines of my body to be made
up into fiddlestrings, the proceeds to be devoted to the
purchase of an accordion, which shall be played in the
auditorium of the cat infirmary by one of the regular
nurses, to be selected for that purpose exclusively. The
playing to be kept up forever and ever, without cessation
night and day, in order that the cats may have the privilege
of always hearing and enjoying that instrument which is
the nearest approach to their natural voice.' "

4

74 ME. OLDMIXON.

*'0f course," said Mr. Oldmixon, "such a will as
that cannot stand, for it is contrary to public policy. The
courts will make short work of it."

"And I am not quite sure that yours is not open to
the same objection. Don't you think it is contrary to
public policy to bribe a man to marry a woman whom,
perhaps, he does not love and can never love ?"

" No, I don't !" repHed Mr. Oldmixon, promptly.
" She will know nothing whatever of the provisions of
the will, and therefore the only inducement she will
have to marry him will be the fact that she loves him.
If she does not love him she won't marry him, and then
she will get the money. If she marries him within a
year after my decease he will get the estate ; if she re-
fuses to marry him, or marries some one else, or marries
him after a year has elapsed, she will get it. Surely, it's
all very plain, and I don't see anything in the provisions
that is contrary to public policy."

" Well, well, perhaps not ; I'll do the best 1 can with
it. You want me to put these data into the form
required by the laws of the State of New York ?"

" Yes, of course ! That's what I came here for.*'

" When will you be ready to execute the will ?"

" I shall be ready this evening. Send it to me as soon
as it is done, and I will sign it and have my act witnessed
in due form."

" And this other will, what do you wish done with it ?"

" That you may destroy as well as this other that I
made last night" — ^taking as he spoke another folded
paper from the breast pocket of his coat and handing it
to Mr. Ridley.

"What's all this 1" exclaimed that gentleman, as he
hastily ran his eye over the document.

MAKING A WILL — ^JACK OLDMIXON. 75

" Oh ! that's a will 1 made last night in case anything
should happen^ to me before I had quite made up my
mind in regard to the details of all that I wanted to do."

** It isn't worth the paper on which it is written. It
isn't properly witnessed, and may as well go into the
waste-paper basket" — saying which Mr. Ridley tore it
into several pieces and threw them under the table.
'' The other, however," he continued, "is another thing.
If you were to die before you execute your new will it
would stand."

" And if I destroy it, what then ?"
' " In that case you would die intestate, and your estate
would be divided among your heirs-at-law."

" Then I shall not destroy it yet. I would -rather
Hogarth should get my property than that it should be
cut up into a dozen or more shares, as would be the case
were I to die without a will. Give it back to me. I'll
keep it till I sign the other. Then it will be worthless,
whether destroyed or not."

Mr. Ridley handed him the paper, and in a few min-
utes thereafter Mr. Oldmixon took his leave, and entering
his coup6 directed the coachman to drive to the '' Van-
dyke" apartment house in one of the up-town streets.

Mr. Oldmixon was a man of action. In fact, he had
one of the most restless spirits that ever inhabited a
human body. He was never quiet except when he was
asleep, and, as a rule, he was not then in that condition,
for he snored terribly and was a somnambulist — features,
especially the last, that on several occasions got him into
serious difficulties.

He was now on his way to make a visit to his nephew
John, or, as he was generally called, ** Jack," for the pur-
pose of acquainting him with the kind intentions he had

76 MB. OLDMIXON.

formed relative to his future financial and matrimonial
relations.

lie knew very little of Jack. In fact, he had not seen
him to speak to him for several years. Occasionally
when he had been driving through the streets he had
encountered his nephew trudging along on foot ; but their
eyes had not met, probably because neither the one nor the
other cared to allow them to do so, and not even a saluta-
tion passed between them. Till this morning he did not
even know where Jack lived, and he had been obliged
to have recourse to a Directory to gain the necessary infor-
mation. There he had found '' Oldmixon, John, artist,
' The Vandyke,' 61 West ^th Street."

Jack had always, in addition to the other virtues that
his uncle gave him credit for possessing, shown a suffi-
cient amount of independence to extort his relative's un-
feigned though silent respect. He saw, while he was yet
a boy, that for some reason or other he was not a favor-
ite. At first this troubled him greatly, for he was of a
warm and affectionate nature, and he was disposed to
make advances, notwithstanding the fact that they gener-
ally met with rebuffs. He was then under the impres-
sion that there might be something in his conduct or his
manner that was disagreeable to his uncle, and upon one
occasion had made bold to ask if there was any ground
for his fear, expressing at the same time his desire to
correct it if his respected relative would be kind enough
to enlighten him in regard to its character.

For a moment Mr. Oldmixon had looked at the boy in
astonishment, and then, with some confusion of manner,
had said : ''I don't think it's worth while to talk about
that matter now. I'll give you an education till you are
twenty-one, and then you can look after yourself. I may

MAKING A WILL — ^JAOK OLDMIXON. 77

as well tell you, however, that all my money will go to
your brother. "

It was a cruel speech to make, and no one knew that
fact better than Mr. Oldmixon himself. Bat he thought
it would be as well to destroy at once and for all any ex-
pectations that Jack might have formed of coming in for
any portion of his estate. He had been for some time
seeking an opportum'ty for doing so, and now it had
come to him when he had least expected it.

For the instant the boy looked as though he were about
to burst into tears ; but he was a manly fellow, even though
only sixteen years of age, so he controlled himself as well
as he could, though his lips quivered a little and his eyes
moistened.

" I thought I would ask," he said at last, '^ for if there
is anything I can do to make you like me, I will do it.
Not that 1 want any of your money," he added ; '' Ho-
garth is welcome to that."

Mr. Oldmixon was not ordinarily brutal, but he felt
the blood of his ancestors warming in his veins from some
cause or other, and it was bad blood to get heated. He
turned on the child, and with a scowl on his face said :

" 1 like Hogarth because he is an Oldmixon. He looks
like one, talks like one, acts like one. I dislike you
because you take after your mother, and I never could
endure her. There doesn't seem to be any Oldmixon
blood in yoa, and, by Heaven ! I don't believe there is."

The words were hardly out of his mouth when Jack
sprang forward, and with all his young strength dealt his
uncle a blow in the mouth that cut his lip and caused the
blood to flow, besides loosening several of his teeth. He
would have jumped upon him and have inflicted further
damage had he not been grasped by Mr. Oldmixon 's

78 MB. OLDMIXON.

man and carried bodily, straggling and kicking with all
his might, out of the room. That night he left the house,
leaving a note for his uncle in which he declared that he
would never receive another favor at his hands, nor even
recognize him as a relative. " You are a liar and a ruf-
fian,' ' he wrote. ^^ You insulted my mother, and if I had
been let alone I would have killed you."

From that time on there had been no intercourse be-
tween the two. Jack had gone to a gentleman, a noted
artist with whom he had a slight acquaintance, and had
requested him to put hira in the way of applying to the
court for a change of guardianship. There was no trouble
in eflEecting the substitution of his friend for his uncle, as
the latter united in the application, and Mr. Winfield
Bageot became Jack's legal guardian and trustee of the
small property left by his mother till the time of the
boy's arriving at age.

Jack's father had run through his estate in a few years
after marriage, and then, as the reader has already been
informed, was run through the body in a duel that he
had provoked. Mrs. Oldmixon had always been del-
icate, so that, though her husband's death was a good
riddance to her, she had only survived him a few
months. She left property yielding about a thousand
dollars a year equally divided between her two sons.
Jack had, therefore, after the rupture with his uncle a
little over five hundred dollars a year upon which to keep
body and soul together and complete his education.
Under the guidance of his friend, Mr. Bageot, he got
along very well, and after a couple of years more spent at
school he began to learn something of art, with the in-
tention of becoming a painter, provided he showed any
talent in that direction. He did show talent. By the

MAKING A WILL — ^JACK OLDMIXON. 79

strictest economy he had saved enough to enable him to
pay for his passage to Rome, and once there he was en-
abled to live on his five hundred a year better than he
could have lived on a like sum in New York. He stayed
two years in Rome and one in wandering about Europe,
stopping a month or two in each of Paris, Madrid,
Vienna, Munich, Dresden, London, and other art centres,
and working hard all the time at figure painting — ^the
branch of the profession for which he thought he ex-
hibited most talent, and which he greatly preferred to any
other. By the time Jack returned to New York he had
planted many good seeds, and planted them well, so that
there was every prospect that he would be able to make
his way to some degree of eminence in the line of work
he had chosen.

An artist has better opportunities for bringing himself
before the public than has a member of any other pro-
fession-— that is, of course, if there is anything in him
that the public cares for. If he paints a good picture it
is hung in a promineat place at some one or more of the
art exhibitions, and is, perhaps, also displayed on the walls
of his club house. It is described by the art critics of
the daily papers and of the magazines that are, or are not,
specially devoted to art interests. It is probably en-
graved for the pages of some art journal or by some
print-seller. It may even be chromo-lithographed. By
all these means the artist is made known to society and
the world at large. He is invited out, he is talked about,
and his reputation is made.

Jack Oldmixon went through all this, and had achieved
what most young men in his position would have consid-
ered splendid success. Every year since his return he
had had one or more pictures at the annual exhibitions of

80 MB. OLDMIXON.

the National Academy, and they had been sold promptly
at his own prices to wealthy men in various parts of the
country. One of them had been purchased by Mr.
Malters, of Baltimore, and this circumstance — as every
one knew how accomplished a connoisseur Mr. Malters
was — had of itseK largely aided in selling other produc-
tions of his brush. The wealthy Mr. Smilax, of Chicago,
had bought one and had given an order for another, the
subject to be the Goddess of Beauty casting pearls before
swine. Jack had thought long over this order before
deciding to accept it, but at last he had concluded that
something good could be made of the subject, and he
had accordingly gone to work at it with great enthusiasm,
and had produced a picture which the conoscenti de-
clared showed real genius in the conception, and that it
was a wonderful piece of composition and coloring. He
had treated the matter symbolically, the swine being men
and the pearls women. A.t first the Chicago gentleman
— who was far more artistic in his tastes than many of
those in the East who make pretensions — looked at the
picture in amazement. The idea was so entirely diflEer-
ent from the one he had formed of feeding swine with
pearls that for a moment he thought there must be some
mistake.

" My dear fellow," he said, ^' I don't see the hogs."
Jack smiled, but made no reply ; and in a little while
the mental illumination came to his patron with a force
that almost overwhelmed him.

" By thunder !" he exclaimed, wringing Jack's hand
with both of his as though he were squeezing the water
out of a wet cloth. '^ You're a genius ! You've produced
the finest thing of the time — one, sir, that will swell your
reputation to such proportions that you'll hardly know

MAKINO A WILL— JACK OLDMIXON. 81

yourself. I wouldn't take five thousand dollars for that
picture, and in ten years from now it'll be worth twenty.
Give me a pen and ink, please."

Jack gave him writing materials, and Mr. Smilax, pro-
ducing a blank check from his pocket, sat down at a table,
and in a moment or two handed the young man the prod-
uct of his penmanship. Jack took it, glanced at- it,
and handed it back.

^^ This is for five thousand dollars," he said. ^* You
are only to give me twenty-five hundred for the picture. "

** My dear young friend," said Mr. Smilax, in his most
insinuating tones, '^ it is one of the privileges of wealth to
reward talent. When I engaged to give you twenty-five
hundred dollars for a picture, I had in my mind one that
1 thought would be worth the price. This is diflEerent,
and worth a great deal more than that sum. As 1 just
said, I wouldn't take five thousand for it. I feel that I
am getting the best of the bargain when 1 tender you
that amount for it ; but then, you see," he added, smiling,
" as a business man 1 like to come out a little ahead."

The end of the matter was, that Jack took the check,
feeling that in Mr. Smilax he had secured an apprecia-
tive patron. And he had ; for the picture, ^^ Casting
Pearls before Swine," was the reason of getting him
more orders than he could easily attend to. But he was
industrious. Be worked fast, and when walking or
driving, or when at the theatre, or during a lapse in the
conversation at a dinner-party, he was thinking of his
work, and framing mental images of persons and situa-
tions. Many of these, upon reflection, he discarded ; but
others were among his best conceptions.

Then the great railway magnate and millionaire, Mr.
Van der Linden, had called upon him, and had requested

4*

82 MB. OLDMIXON.

a picture by him for his magnificent gallery. The gen-
tleman knew a good deal about pictures. It would have
been strange if he had not, for his great wealth had en-
abled him to get together such a collection of the best
works of modern painters as was probably unequalled in
all the world ; and he had studied them thoroughly, as
well as having made himself familiar with the produc-
tions of all the schools represented in the galleries of
Europe. It was his habit to spend every day an hour in
the quiet contemplation of some one picture of his fa-
mous collection. At four o'clock punctually he ceased
serving mammon for the day, and, entering his coupe,
was driven to his house. Then he repaired to his gallery,
and, lighting a cigar, seated himself before some noted
painting, and resigned himself to its study, endeavoring
to obtain some conception of the ideas that had filled the
mind of the artist, and that he had transferred to the
canvas.

This was the gentleman who, after great deliberation,
had given Jack Oldmixon an order. He was accustomed
to say that there was not a bad picture in his gallery,
and that he did not intend that there should be one.
When Jack had asked him for a subject he had an-
swered that he wanted not only a picture, but a subject
as well.

^^ Fix your own price," he had said. '^ If the picture
suits me I shall hang it in my collection ; if it does not,
but is good, I'll give it to some friend ; but if it's bad,
I'll destroy it. Tliere are enough bad pictures in the
world without the number being increased by me."

Jack had accepted the terms, had named his price,
and had been assured that it was reasonable and just,
large as it was, and had been for a week or more racking

KAKLNQ A WILL — ^JACK OLDMIXON; 83

his brain for a subject for what he intended should be
the great effort of his artistic life.

Thus matters stood with Jack at the time that his
uncle was driving up Fifth Avenue on his way to resume
relations that had been interrupted for more than a
dozen years. The world and he had got along very well
with each other. He had shown his independence and
his ability to take care of himself. He had rarely met
his brother since he had cut loose from his uncle. Mr.
Oldmixon had directed Hogarth, on pain of incurring
his implacable resentment, to cease all communications
with Jack ; and Hogarth, being one of those astute
youths that are wise in advance of their years, and are at
the same time not possessed of principle beyond that of
looking out for themselves, had seen on which side of
his bread the butter was spread, and had scrupulously
obeyed his uncle's commands. At first they had spoken
when they had met in the streets ; but for the past ten
years this fomaUty had been dispensed with, and they
passed each other as though they were strangers. Take
them all in all, the Oldmixons with which this history
has to deal could not be looked upon as being a '' happy
family."

CHAPTER VI.

^^WHAT BROUGHT TOU HERE?"

It was with some degree of trepidation that Mr. Old-
mixon got out of his coupe and ascended the staircase of
the Vandyke apartment-house to his nephew's rooms.
He did not have far to go, for they were on the first floor.
In fact, the distance was so short that there was scarcely
time for him to compose himself into such a frame of mind
as would not reveal itself by his manner. Naturally he
was nervous. Little things disturbed his equanimity
unduly, and big ones acted with proportionately greater
power. The janitor preceded him, and on arriving at
the landing was about to usher Mr. Oldmixon into a
reception-room while he took his name to the occupant ;
but to this the gentleman would not listen. '^ I am his
uncle,' ' he said, ^^ and it isn't necessary for me to be an-
nounced as though 1 were his tailor. Show me his door,
and I'll manage to get in without your assistance."

The man went along the hall a few steps followed by
Mr. Oldmixon, and at last stopped before a door on
which was tacked a visiting-card bearing the name of
'' John Oldmixon. " " That's the room," he said. " The
gentleman's in" — pointing as he spoke to a little wooden
label with the word ''In" printed upon it in large let-
ters. '' All you've got to do is to knock," with which
words he retreated, leaving Mr. Oldmixon to get in
through his own devices.

"what brought you here?" 85

Fop a moment that gentleman hesitated. He was not
quite snre of the character of the reception his nephew
would give him. He knew that he had no right to expect
any consideration, and he was very certain that had he
sent in his name Jack would have peremptorily refused
to see him. But he was also aware of the fact that he came
strongly armed and with inducements for peace such as
few, if any, nephews would care to resist. As he stood
before the door he could hear some one, doubtless Jack,
moving about the room, and — yes, actually whistling.
That was a favorable sign. People don't whistle when
they are cross. Jack must be in a good-humor, for not
only was he whistling, but he was whistling that classical
song "Whoa, Emma !" Nobody, Mr. Oldmixon would
have sworn, ever whistled " Whoa, Emma !" when he
was in a bad temper.

So far, therefore, the indications for a peaceful inter-
view were favorable.

He knocked, and on hearing a loud " Come in" from
the room, opened the door and entered.

Evidently Jack had just been dressing, preparatory
probably to going out, for he was in the act of putting
his arms into the sleeves of a black frock-coat, when,
turning his face to the door, he saw his uncle standing
before him.

His countenance changed. Evidently the influence of
*' Whoa, Emma !" as a factor in causing the evolution of
good-humor was not of a permanent character, for the
expression upon his face now was not such as, for instance,
a book-canvasser or a subscription agent would have pre-
terxed to see. There was no element of excitement about
it, but it was calmly, darkly, freezingly indignant. It
was one that exhibited a potentiality for becoming dan-

86 MR. OLDHIXON.

gerous, and tliis idea of its character was increased by the
fact that as soon as Jack recognized his visitor he appar-
ently looked behind him involuntarily at the window, as
though to ascertain its exact distance and location, with
the view of making use of it for a purpose different from
that which had led to its construction.

The intrusion was so unexpected to Jack, that it re-
quired an instant for him to grasp the situation. But his
was a quick- working brain, and generally anticipated what
was being submitted to its action before the matter was
wholly unfolded. People said that when they talked to
Jack Oldmixon he evidently saw the conclusions to which
their remarks were leading long before they had fully
stated their premises. The situation therefore was not
long, so far as its obvious features were concerned, in
being thoroughly comprehended, nor was he slow in ar-
riving at a determination as to the action necessary in the
premises.

^' You !" he exclaimed ; " what brought you here ?'*
Now, Mr. Oldmixon knew that he had every reason to
expect a cool, perhaps even an angry, reception. His
conscience pricked him not so much for what he had done
to the boy, though on that score he did not in his present
frame of mind hold himself guiltless, but for the disUke
he had unjustly entertained for him, and for the cruel
speech that he had made, more than twelve years ago, in
regard to the boy's mother. For those sins — sins for
which he knew there could be no adequate excuse, he re-
proached himself bitterly, and for them he had antici-
pated an unfriendly reception at the hands of his nephew.
But to bo called on in that abrupt way to tell what
had brought him there was not what he had expected.
The object of his visit was not to be stated offhand and

** WHAT BBOTiaHT YOTT HEBE?" 87

in a few hasty words spoken on compnlsion. On the
contrary, it was one that for its exposition would require
all his shrewdness and diplomacy and an agreeable frame
of mind in him to whom it was to be disclosed. Jack
must be placated. That requirement was prominent in
Mr. Oldmixon's mind, and how to fulfil it was now the
question that absorbed all his powers of attention. For-
tunately for his wishes, he was a man of ready resources
and prompt action. He had often boasted of never hav-
ing lost bis presence of mind, although it had been liis
fortune to be placed in many trying situations. Besides
that, he knew that Jack was of a generous and forgiving
disposition, and he argued from this circumstance strongly
for the success of his plans. Jack did not have to wait
long for an answer.

" I have come,'* said Mr. Oldmixon, bending his head
in an attitude of humility, and looking down at a figure
on the rug about a foot in advance of where he stood — ** I
have come," he repeated, *^ in the first place to ask your
pardon for my unjust and cruel language of many years
ago. I have often thought of it since that time, and 1
have never failed to censure myself for uttering words that
I knew were false and that had no other excuse than my
bad temper."

"It seems to me," said Jack, not changing his expres-
sion, ** that, considering that your insult was uttered more
than twelve years ago, you have been a long time in ex-
pressing your regret."

" True ; I have been proud and unjust all that time,
but I have none the less been aware of my fault. I have
come to-day not only to ask your forgiveness, but to show
you that I am sincere in ray repentance. I wish you to
be friends with me once more. I am a changed man, and

88 ME. OLDMIXON.

my^vile language, uttered to you a boy, is not the only
thing of which I have repented."

Jack felt himself yielding. It was not in his nature
to stand out against a repentance and a desire to undo a
wrong so sincere as those exhibited by his uncle. Grad-
ually his face cleared up ; and before Mr. Oldmixon
had done speaking he had resolved to let ''bygones be
begones' ' and to resume the relations that the ties of con-
sanguinity justified. He had always regretted the aliena-
tion, or, rather, he had regretted that Mr. Oldmixon had
spoken as he had, not only because his words were an in-
sult to his mother, but because they required a total sever-
ance of all associations with the man that had spoken
them. No sooner therefore had his uncle finished his
little speech than Jack stepped forward with outstretched
hands.

''I am glad you are come," he said, while Mr. Old-
mixon grasped the hands held out to him. '' You were
wrong to say what you did, but it is manly and straight-
forward for you to express your regret. I suppose we all
do and say things when we are angry that we are sorry
for afterward."

'' Then it is all over between us !" exclaimed Mr.
Oldmixon, his countenance expressing the joy he felt at
this happy termination in accordance with his desires.
'' Now, will you let me stay a few minutes and talk over
matters with you ? Twelve years, Jack, my boy, since we
have had a talk ! It's a long time for uncle and nephew
to be separated."

Before he had finished speaking Jack had rolled a big
chair up to him, and Mr. Oldmixon had dropped himself
into it.

'' I'll talk with you as long as you like," said Jack,

" WHAT BBOUaHT YOIT HEEE ?" 89

equally pleased with the reconciliation that had taken
place. '' Some of these days we'll exchange confidences
in regard to our experiences during these last twelve
yeai's. IVe got some interesting things to talk about,
and so have you, I'm sure."

" I've kept my eye on you, Jack, and I've been proud
of you all the time. You're a great man now. I've gone
to the Academy exhibitions every year, and I've looked
for your pictures the first thing. You're ahead of them
all, Jack. You're the greatest painter in New York, and
I'm proud of you just as much as though you were my
own son. "

*^ You're very kind. Uncle Victor" — ^it was the first
time Jack had given him the title of relationship. '' I've
tried to keep up the name."

*^ God forbid that you should keep up the name as the
Oldmixons have kept it up ! We're a bad lot. Jack.
You are the only one of us, so far as the family traditions
go, that has been any credit to mankind. There's that
scoundrel Hogarth—"

'' Hogarth ! What has Hogarth done ?"

*^ WTiat has he done?" almost shrieked Mr. Oldmix-
on. ^^ What hasn't he done ? Everything but murder,
and he isn't too good for that."

^* Perhaps I should know more about it if you were a
little more specific in your language. I haven't laid
eyes on him for a year or more. Of course he has
treated me very badly. I'm his only brother, and yet
for twelve years he has been a stranger to me. There's
something horrible in the idea of passing your own
brother in the street and not speaking to him. The
fault, however, has not been mine. I always spoke to
him, and shook hands with him when we met till he cut

90 MB. OLBMIXON.

me dead, and then, of course, I took no further notice
of him."

« Mr. Oldmixon shifted himself uneasily on his chair
while Jack was speaking, and his face underwent many
changes of expression.

** That was partly my fault, Jack. Indeed, 1 suppose
I am wholly to blame. Still, he was very willing to do
as I told him. He never remonstrated against my orders.
A true man would never have obeyed them."

*'No, I think not," said Jack. "If you had ever
told me not to speak to him, I should have refused to do
your bidding."

" You haven't lost much. Hogarth is one of the most
depraved men in the world. Of course I knew he was
bad when I tunied you out of my house. But he was an
Oldmixon, and that idea seduced me. Now I've had
enough of him and of all the brood like him." ,

*' Bat what new offence has he committed ?"

" Haven't you heard ?"

'' I have heard nothing. I hope it is a small matter."

" Small ! he couldn't have done anything much worse.
He was married yesterday." With these words Mr. Old-
mixon covered his face with his hands, and his body shook
as though he were convulsed with grief.

" Hogarth married !" said Jack, in some astonishment.
" It's news to me. I suppose," he continued, in a tone
of sympathy, " he's made a bad match."

"No," sobbed Mr. Oldmixon, "he has married the
loveliest girl in New York."

" I don't understand, then, why you should be so dis-
tressed over the affair."

"It's very plain," said Mr. Oldmixon, removing his
hands, and exhibiting a face on which traces of tears ap-

"what brought you heee?" 91

peared. " I'm sorry for the poor girl, that she should
be mated for life to a blackguard and villain like Ho-
garth — and — can you keep a secret, Jack?" turning his
eyes on his nephew, and speaking quickly.

" I suppose so," answered Jack ; " 1 don't think I'm
a babbler ; at any rate, I'll keep any secrets of yours as
long as you wish me to."

" Well, then, Jack, that wretch has done me the great-
est injuiy one man can do another, for I was deeply at-
tached to the woman that is now his wife. She was so
deep in my heart, that although she now belongs to
another, I feel as though I could never give her up.
Perhaps in time," he continued, with a more cheerful ex-
pression of countenance, "I may become reconciled to
my loss, but I think not. I do not see that I can ever
love again, for I loved her more than I have ever loved
any other woman. ' '

** Then," said Jack, with the proper amount of indig-
nation in his voice, "she seems to have behaved very
badly."

"Oh dear, no !" exclaimed his uncle; "I don't see
how you can think that. Her conduct has been admirable
throughout."

"I don't understand," observed Jack, with an ex-
pression of hopelessness on his countenance. '"If she
was engaged to you, and then married another man, it
appears to me that most people would regard that as act-
ing badly."

" But she was not engaged to me. Who said she was
engaged to me ? I've been in love forty- three times, and
I have never once been engaged.' '

" Oh !" exclaimed Jack.

" I don't see any occasion for an expression of aston-

92 ME. OLDMIXON.

isliment," said Mr. Oldmixon. " I was so unfortunately
constituted as to be very susceptible and at the same
time to be utterly devoid of confidence in myself. I am
the faint heart that never won fair lady. My love has
been silent, and I've

* Let concealment, like a worm i* the bud/ etc."

'* But," remarked Jack, scarcely able to keep his face
from breaking into a smile, " you got over all the other
affairs, so that in all probability you'll conquer this one
also. "

'* In time, perhaps, and with your aid. I look to you
now, Jack. All my trust is in you, and," he added,
after a little hesitation, " one other."

*^ A lady ?" inquired Jack, this time being unable to
keep back the smile.

'' Yes, a lady, but not, as you appear to suspect, one
that I am in love with. She is the very best of her sex,
beautiful, intelligent, refined, well educated, good tem-
pered, but not one iorme " — with a strong accent on the
pronoun — ^^ to love. That is all over with me. My re-
gard for her is that of a father for a daughter. With
Camilla "White — whom that scoundrel Hogarth stole
from me — not only was the last spark of the gentle pas-
sion extinguished in my breast, but the fuel became
exhausted. There is nothing there now but a burnt-
out furnace, an extinct volcano, a cinder. What was
once the sun is now the moon. I believe the moon is
a dead planet or sun, or something of the kind, isn't it.
Jack?"

'* Keally, uncle, I don't know," answered Jack, scarcely
aware whether or not an attempt was being made to per-
petrate a joke. **1 am not up in astronomy, I have

"what BEOUGHT you HEBE?" 93

often heard the moon spoken of by young ladies of a
sentimental turn of mmd as * cold ' and * pale — ' "

'' That's it 1" interrupted Mr. Oldmixon ; " that's ex-
actly the state of my heart, * cold ' and * pale.' "

" Suppose you tell me all about it, uncle," said Jack,
at last, having failed, from Mr. Oldmixon's references, to
get a dear idea of the situation, and knowing that it would
save time and trouble to be fully enlightened now.
" That is," he added, ** if the story will not awaken too
many painful recollections. You tell me that you have
been in love forty-three times. You were joking then,
surely."

" No ; that is the exact number. When I last talked
with you, Jack, you were too young to understand such
things, and, besides, I was much more reticent then about
myself than I am now. Forty-three times have I given
my heart, and forty-three times has something — either
death or another man — ^robbed me of her I loved. Do you
wonder, then, that I have determined never again to think
of a woman with a view to matrimony? Even if I
wished to do so, I could not ; for, as I have just said, my
heart is burnt out. Now give me your attention for a
few minutes, and I will tell you of this last sad affair,
and of the vile part played in it by your brother Ho-
garth."

Then Mr. Oldmixon related the history of his infatua-
tion for Miss Camilla White from first to last, very much
in the same words with which he had given it to Bar-
bara.

Jack listened with attention, rarely interrupting him
with questions, and gradually, as Mr. Oldmixon went on
with the recital, coming to the conclusion that his
uncle, if not insane on the subject of his loves, was cer-

94 ME. OLDMIXOK.

tainly very near the border L'ne that, in the opinion of
some psychologists, separates sanity from insanity. He
had long known that the old gentleman was eccentric,
and that all his life he had acted in a way diflEerent from
that in which the average man would have acted under
like circumstances. But the present experience was so
extraordinary, there was so much earnestness in bis
uncle's manner, such an evident conviction that he was
reasonable and right in his opinions and acts, that Jack
could hardly avoid the conviction that eccentricity had
become actual insanity. He saw now what had been the
exciting cause of the entire change of front that had
taken place in his relative's opinions of his two nephews,
and he reached the conclusion that but for Hogarth's
interference in the way that had so provoked his uncle,
the change of front would probably never have ensued.
Mr. Oldmixon doubtless perceived what was passing
through his nephew's mind, for he hastened to declare,
with all the emphasis that he could bring to the assertion,
that while it was true that yesterday's acts had capped
the climax of Hogarth's misdoings, the rupture must
have taken place ere long. It was in vain that Jack en-
deavored, as had Barbara, to convince Mr. Oldmixon
that Hogarth had in all probability been unaware of his
uncle's attachment for Miss Camilla White, and that his
conduct therefore had no element of disrespect or un-
kindness in it. The reply was the same as had been
given to her — that logic and love had no relation to each
other — and he added that there were other crimes than
disrespect and unkindness.

'* Suppose, for instance," said his uncle, after Jack had
put in what by a man capable of reasoning justly would
have been considered a strong plea for his brother—

** WHAT BEOUaHT YOU HERE ?" 95

*^ suppose you are going down the street and a man ac-
cidentally strikes you in the face with a whip, when he
had intended to strike his horse, wouldn't you be angry
with that man ? Of course you would ; and if you were
high- tempered, as I am, you would, if you could, haul off
and give him a good blow in return. It would be wrong
for you to act in such a manner — unreasonably, illogically
wrong. But if you would strike a man who by accident
strikes yon, how much more should I strike the wretch
who robs me of my heart's treasure ! You can't tell me
anything about its injustice. Justice has nothing to do
with it. I know it's unjust as well as you do. But the
difference between my act and what yours would be
against the man that struck you with his whip, is that
mine is done deliberately and after due reflection, where-
as yours would be the result of ill-temper. You would
be sorry for yours almost as soon as you had returned the
blow, whereas I rejoice at mine more and more with
every hour of my life. No, no. Jack ; don't interfere
with me in this matter. It's between Hogarth and me,
and I'm going to give him the worst of it, as sure as my
name is Victor Coustantine Oldmixon."

*^I don't want to see you act unjustly, uncle. Ho-
garth has been very unbrotherly to me, but that is no
reason why I should, if I can prevent it, allow him to be
treated unfairly."

** Ah, that's it ! if you can prevent it ! But, my boy,
you can't prevent it. Therefore, say nothing more about
it. Now, shall I tell what is the next most important
thing I have to settle with you ?"

**If you please."

" Well, it's this. As you know, when I was such a
blackguard to you twelve years ago I made my will in

96 ME. OLDMIXON.

favor of Hogarth, giving him everything, and you noth-
ing. I have just given orders for a new will to be
drawn up, and in it for ' Hogarth ' you will read ' Jack '
— ^that is, my dear boy, I make you my heir, and I am
quite sure that it will not be long before you will come
into your own."

Jack was not unprepared for this announcement ; it was
the legitimate conclusion of what his uncle had been say-
ing for the last half hour ; and though he did not think it
a just act, yet he had no extravagant and transcendental
notions of generosity to his brother that would stand in
the way of his acceptance of the bounty tendered him.
He therefore thanked Mr. Oldmixon for his kindness,
and expressed his intention of doing nothing that could
be regarded as showing a want of appreciation of the
favor shown him.

Mr. Oldmixon deliberated with himself for a while as
to whether he had better tell Jack of the condition con-
tained in the will, or leave that for another time, when he
and his nephew had become better acquainted with each
other, and were on more familiar terms than they were
then. Finally, he concluded to defer it. He reasoned
that Jack would be more likely to accept the condition
after he had fairly grasped the idea of being heir to half
a million dollars, and had sufficiently contemplated the
advantages that the money would give him.

^' He'll be less apt to kick," he said to himself, ^^ when
he thinks of what he'll have to give up."

Then after inviting Jack to dine with him at the
Lucullus that evening, he took his departure, and Jack
was left alone to think of the sudden augmentation of his
fortune that had so suddenly come to him. He walked
up and down the floor for fully half an hour, whistling a

*'WHAT BEOUGHT YOU HEEE?'' 97

variety of popular airs ; and then, having finally settled
down into a state of comparative mental repose, went
to make a call on Mr. Vander Linden, to communicate
to him the perfected views he had formed relative to the
subject for the picture he was to paint for that gentle-
man.

5

CHAPTER YU.

*^A FEAST FOR THE GODS."

Thebe were few persons in New York that knew as
much about gastronomic science as did Mr. Oldmixon.
He was familiar with all the noted places in the old world
where good dinners were to be got, and he was in the
habit of saying that the man that was fond of artistic
cookery, as well as of dinner-table aesthetics generally,
could have his sense of the fitness of things in these
respects more thoroughly satisfied in the city of New
York than in any other place on the face of the earth ;
and not only this, but that there were better wines to be
found at the clubs of that metropolis and in the cellars
of its famous dinner-givers and hostelries than could
be procured in London, Paris, Vienna, or any other
European city.

'' You see," he said upon one occasion to a group at
his club, '^ an Englishman or a Frenchman is never will-
ing to profit by the experience gained out of his own
country till it has been crammed down his throat on the
prongs of a fork for half a lifetime, whereas an Ameri-
can picks up good ideas wherever he can find them.
Now, here is Lord Glen dale, who sets up for knowing
something, and who, I know, has lived in Paris two or
three months in every year since he became of age, and
he's no chicken now, although he tries to make himself
look as young as possible. Well, I dined with his lord-

"a feast foe the gods." 99

ship last night at Askman's, and after dinner we lit onr
cigars and walked home together, where we had a little
game of poker, of which his lordship is exceedingly fond,
but of which, between you and me, he hasn't the faint-
est scintilla of an idea. He plays it as he would whist.
As I was saying, we walked home together, and Lord
Glendale began to talk about the dinner. Now, my boys, I
think you will all admit that whatever may be our private
opinions of Askman, he knows how to give a dinner such
as Brillat-Savarin could not have found fault with. And
I assure you on my honor as a gentleman and my repu-
tation as a gourmet that that dinner was a gem. There
was not a single unartistic feature about it. The menu
was perfect. The wines were delicious ; those that were
to be cooled were cooled to exactly the proper tempera-
tures, and his Bordeaux and his Burgundy had that pre-
cise difference of five degrees that only the most highly
cultivated taste knows ought to exist. Sixty for the Bor-
deaux ; sixty-five for the Burgundy. And, what is of
more importance, the wines were served in exactly the
proper order. As to the table, it was perfection ; and the
company — well, 1 won't say much about the company ;
but when I tell you that Demue and Bass and Coats were
there, and a half a dozen women, the like of whom for
beauty and intelligence and esprit can't be found through-
out the whole extent of the United Kingdom, you'll
agree that nothing was wanting on that score."

*'0h, we know all about that," interrupted young
Wildmay. *' Tell us what his lordship said. Glendale's a
good fellow. He's invited me to Glendale Castle for a
month's shooting next season. I'd like to have his opinion
about dinners, because I'm going to give him one here
next week."

100 MB« OLDMIXON.

Mr. Oldmixon surveyed the young man contemptu-
ously for probably six seconds ; a long time for such a pro-
cedure.

" Wildmay," he said at last, "do you ever read the
Bible?"

" Oh, come now, Uncle Victor," exclaimed the young
man — " Uncle Victor" being the name generally applied
to Mr. Oldmixon by the younger members of the club —
" don't begin a theological lecture. Our minds are not
set in that direction."

" My dear young friend," said Oldmixon, putting on
his most gentle and courteous manner — a sign that he was
about to annihilate the person to whom it was addressed
— "far be it from me to give you a lecture upon any-
thing, much less upon theology, or to say a word that
would tend to set your mind in action. I was simply going
to ask your attention to that verse of Scripture that re-
bukes the tendency of some young men to push them-
selves to the front before their elders and betters, by advis-
ing them to Harry in Jericho till their beards be grown.'
I know you are one of those gentle youths that do love a
lord. Tou were kind enough, too, to invite me to be
one of those that you have selected from among your ac-
quaintances to meet the noble lord ; but I have to request
that if the dinner is to be in accordance with his ideas,
you will count me out."

"Now, Wildmay," said Mr. Brooks, a man of about
forty, "you see what comes of your damned obtrusive-
ness. Why the devil can't you let Uncle Victor alone ?
1 may tell you now for your satisfaction that Lord Glen-
dale told me yesterday that the chief object he had in
view in accepting your dinner was that of meeting Uncle
Victor. The best thing you can do now is to go down

"a feast fob the gods." 101

on your knees to Uncle Victoi" and beg his pardon for
interrupting him. "

'' Oh, I'll do that !" said Wildmay. '' Consider me
on my knees, Uncle Victor, and asking your pardon."

" Go, boy I" said Mr. Oldmixon, magnanimously. ^^ I
forgive you ; but be more careful in future. Remem-
ber, that though the sight of such as you may be refresh-
ing to the eyes, as is the green field to the kine, the ear
would fain know you not.

" His lordship," continued Mr. Oldmixon, "had the
temerity to find fault, not only with that dinner, but with
every other one to which he had been invited in New
York. ^ Oldmixon,' said he, ' I've dined now with some
of your heaviest swells, and not once have I seen a piece
of roast beef on the table ; and yet I take it that most of
your fellows have been in England, and have dined round
with some of our people who know what dinners are.'
For a moment I was speechless. At last I gasped out :
* Roast beef at a dinner party ? If a man were to invite
me to dinner — ^now listen, Wildmay — and were to give
me roast beef, while I trust I should have sufficient re-
spect for myself to swallow the vulgar edible, I should
make a resolution never again to put my legs under his
table.'

" He laughed at this. ^ But,' he went on, ' he gave
us no champagne till the dessert came. Now in England
we always take our champagne — when we have it — with
the roast.'

" Well, my dear boys, at this I almost fainted. * Cham-
pagne with the roast,' I muttered ; then I roused my-
self. ' Lord Glendale,' I said, ' champagne is the wine
that is to be drank up to. How can a man that has swilled
champagne in the early part of his dinner enjoy ChA-

, %.. <i^*^. .jf1kA>N^-». . . ^.^

102

tean Lafitte and Cks de Y^n^eot afkcrwmrd ! It is simply
impoesible. His palate h rmned for that day as soon as
the first swallow of champagne goes down his throat.'

** Well— could you bdiere it ! — he said that nothing
satisfied his thirst — ^that's the word he nsed — ^like a big
goblet of cracked ice and champagne. Now, my dear
boys, yon all know — ^unless TTildmay is an exception —
that there are two kinds of champagne fiends. The one
gives you your wine hot, arid the other gives it to you
with ice in it. If heaven is open to people belonging
to either of these classes, I don't want to go there. I
suppose it will be more tolerable for Sodom and Gromor-
rah in the day of judgment than for one of them ; but I am
inclined to think that of the two the ice fiend will have a
little the bettor chance. To be sure, he reduces Pommery
Sec to the level of ginger-ale or root-beer ; but his inten-
tions are good ; and though hell is said to be paved with
good intentions, ho will probably have a comparatively
oool plrtco there. "

•' YoH," said Brooks, laughing, while Mr. Oldmixon
looknd from one to the other, with an air of satisfaction
on hin (*onntonanco, as though he had demonstrated a most
important fact, '' his intentions being cool, his place with
hi« Satanio Majonty will be of a like character."

** Ytn4, tluvt's what I mean. Ha ! ha 1"

•* For my part," said Wildmay, ^'I like my cham-
|H^u^ />Nr/y*f»' -frozen, you know."

Mr, Oldmixon put on his hat, drew on his gloves, but-
t^uunl \\\h mmt, and thou bowing to each one of the group
^wpt WildmuY, turned as though about to leave the
hHviu, SuddotUy ho 8topi>od, and addressing that rather
letWtfAUou iiulividuaU wud :

^* Mj iNVWt y^nmg f riond* I recollect that I have an

''a feast foe the gods." 103

•

engagement for the evening that your dinner comes off,
and therefore I shall have to ask yon to excuse me. I
am very sorry ; for if there is anything that 1 particularly
like it is frozen champagne. It is so nice to have your
butler going round the table and slapping his hand on
the bottom of the bottle in order to get the congealed
liquid to flow through the narrow neck. The noise is an
agreeable diversion, and the act attracts the attention of
the company, and saves them the necessity of listening
to some bore who may be telling a long story. Besides,
there is always a fine chance of the contents of the bottle
— not wine, it is no longer wine — ^under the influence
of some more than usually strong thump, coming out
with a gush and spattering the table-cloth or the ladies'
dresses. Such a timely accident always causes a laugh,
and therefore interrupts the monotony that otherwise
would be tiresome. Then — and this is the chief advan-
tage — it is so much more convenient to eat your wine
than to drink it. I would suggest that you serve it as a
sorbet with spoons. Tes, I am extremely sorry that 1
shall not be able to assist at so delectable a feast as yours
will be ;" and with a profound bow to the extinguished
Wildmay, Mr. Oldmixon left the room.

"Run after him, Wildmay!" exclaimed Brooks.
^^ You can't get along without Uncle Victor, and Glen-
dale won't come if he doesn't. Tell him he may order
the dinner. That's what he wants. It will cost you
twice as much as if you ordered it, but then it will be
perfect.' '

'^ I'll be hanged if 1 do !" said "Wildmay. ^' He may
go to the devil ! By George ! he's getting to think that
nobody but himself knows anything, and you fellows all
help him to keep up that delusion. Besides, I think he's

104 MB. OLBMIXON.

as mad as a March hare on some things. See- how he
treats Jack Oldmixon and cuddles that scamp Hogarth.
1 know lots of people who think he's a lunatic."

'' Just as you please," rejoined Brooks, while the others
intimated by a few words that they thought Wildmay
had better catch Uncle Victor before he got out of the
club house. "It's your dinner, you know. But 1 can
tell you, my dear boy, that if you don't propitiate that
great man you'll rue it to the last day of your life.
Another thing, too, you'd better bear in mind : don't act
on the assumption that Uncle Victor's crazy. He's queer
sometimes, I admit, and he's done some of the most pre-
posterous things that a man ever did ; but for all that he's
got a head on his shoulders, dear boy, that it would be
dangerous for you to trifle with. You'd better overhaul
him before he get's away."

" Confound it all !" exclaimed Wildmay ; " with every
one of you against me, I suppose there's nothing else for
me to do. You'd better call this Oldmixon's Club, for
hang me if he doesn't run the whole establishment."

He left the room, and it's needless to add succeeded in
placating Mr. Oldmixon by giving him carte blanche to
arrange not only the menu, but the decorations also.

From all of which it will be sufficiently apparent to
the reader — if he or she has not already acquired that
idea — that Mr. Oldmixon was a power, and a despotic
one at that, in more than one circle in the city of
New York.

Jack was at the Lucullus at seven o'clock precisely,
and his punctuality elicited the warmest encomiums from
his uncle, who was on hand in the reception-room.

'Tve invited Brooks and a Mr. Partridge of St. Louis
to join us," he said. '^ Brooks you know, of course, and

"a feast foe the gods." 105

Partridge is a picture-collector. He's just got back from
Paris with the last picture of some great painter."

'^ Yes, 1 know Brooks, and I know Mr. Partridge also.
He gave me an order yesterday."

" The devil he did ! Well, Jack, you seem to have
got to about the top of the ladder. I hope you won't be
spoiled, my boy."

" 1 don't think there's any danger of that," answered
Jack, laughing. " What success I have had has come
from hard work, and therefore I am not likely to estimate
it at more than it's worth. "

" Pm proud of you, my boy ; and to think that I should
have cut myself off from a man like you to take up with
one like that blackguard Hogarth ! The snake in the
grass ! He has bitten the bosom that warmed him ! That's
it ! That's just what he's done, the ungrateful serpent !' '

"Well, uncle,' ' said Jack, " as I said to you this morn-
ing, I can't agree with you in this matter. Hogarth may
be a bad fellow. I have no reason to praise him ; but
common justice, 1 think, requires that he should not be
blamed for marrying a woman who he had no idea was
beloved by you."

" We won't talk about it. Jack, especially as here are

our friends," as two gentlemen approached ; " but I must

say once and for all, as I've already said a dozen times,

that ^common justice' may go to the devil. It has

nothing to do with the case. How are you. Brooks ?

Good-evening, Mr. Partridge. You both know my

nephew, Mr. John Oldmixon, I believe. Come 1 We'll

take the elevator. We'll make a nice little pa/rtie ca/rrie.

I wouldn't take a thousand dollars for the enjoyment I

expect to get out of this dinner and your society for the

next three hours or more. "
6*

106 MR. OLDMIXON.

" I think," said Mr. Brooks to Jack, as they were go-
ing up in the elevator, *' that there isn't a living mar
that enjoys a good dinner more than does your uncle, and,
I may add, knows better how to give one."

" That is no small praise, Brooks, " said Mr. Oldraixon \
^* for I look upon you as one of the few men now living
whose opinion on the subject is worth anything. As for
me, dinner-giving stands at the head of the arts and
sciences. I came across an old book a few days ago," he
continued, as he took Mr. Partridge's arm on getting out
of the elevator, while the party crossed the hall to the
room in which they were to dine, " that contains a sen-
tence that embodies my idea exactly. It is to the effect
that no man is fit to govern an empire who does not know
how to give a dinner to his friends."

^^I think there is some truth in that," said Mr. Par-
tridge, laughing. *' Certainly, the best Presidents we
have had have been those that gave the best dinners."

" Yes ; the qualities necessary in a giver of good din-
ners do not differ from those requisite in a great and
good ruler," said Mr. Oldmixon, after his guests had
taken their seats and he was unfolding his napkin. " If
ever I am a candidate for a high office, 1 want only one
war-cry to be sounded in my behalf — ^ He gives good
dinners.' "

"I am afraid," rejoined Mr. Partridge, raising a
Blue Point oyster scarcely larger than the end of his
thumb to his lips, *^ that in this selfish age the announce-
ment would not do you much good unless you added the
words, * and you are all invited to them. ' Then you'd
get votes."

^^ I shouldn't object to the number so much as I
should to the kind of people I should have to invite, ' '

"a feast foe the gods." 107

Baid Mr. Oldmixon, wlio was now in his element. ^^ Big
dinners, however, are generally dreary affairs. Think of
that one given to the Goddess Bubastis, on the banks of
the Nile, at which seventy thousand sat down at the
table and seven hundred thousand looked on, and at
which more wine was drunk than in all Egypt during
the rest of the year ! Jack, my boy, what do you think
of that Montrachet ? Don't mind my asking such ques-
tions, my friends," he continued, addressing his other
guests. '' This is a Uttle family affair, at which we are
at liberty to criticise the wines and the dishes. I've got
a surprise for you in the next course after the soup, in
regard to which I shall want your individual opinions.
It's a new dish, an original one — one of my own de-
vising ; and if it's successful, I would rather be the
inventor or the discoverer of it than to be the first man
to reach the North Pole."

Jack gave it as his opinion that the Montrachet was
excellent.

'^ It's so much better," he ventured to say, '' to drink
white Burgundy with your oysters than that sweet
Yquem, which is certain to deaden your taste."

*' That's right, my boy I" exclaimed Mr. Oldmixon.
^' Good Heavens ! how delighted 1 am to hear you enunci-
ate an opinion like that. The ooly wines fit to drink
with your oysters are Chablis and Montrachet. Tquem
is a dessert wine, and only fit for women at that ; and yet
there are people pretending to a knowledge of oinology
who hand it to you as soon as your legs are under their
table. Faugh I"

^'I see you had a nephew married yesterday," said
Brooks, changing the conversation. ^^ Hogarth ; I don't
know him. He's been away, hasn't he ?"

108 MB. OLDMIXON".

Nothing could better show the difference between insan-
ity and eccentricity than Mr. Oldmixon's ability to re-
strain the manifestation of any of his peculiarities when-
ever he thought it advisable to do so. He had no inten-
tion of opening his family closets, and of displaying the
skeletons therein contained either to Mr. Brooks or Mr.
Partridge. He did not, as may be supposed by some
persons, bearing in mind the anxiety he showed to un-
bosom himself to Barbara Henschel, go about talking in
clubs and other places of social resort of his loves and of
his intentions toward his nephews. He was prone to
form sudden intimacies with people that impressed him
by their possessing some agreeable feature of mind or of
person, and he was equally disposed to contract dishkes
from the opposite influences. The difference between
him and most persons in these respects was that his likes
and dislikes were often — not always by any means — of so
preposterous a character as to be altogether unexplainable
upon any theory based upon normal human experience.
Such, for instance, had been his affection for his nephew
Hogarth, a person who, as boy and man, had scarcely a
redeeming quality, but who would probably, nevertheless,
have remained his favorite had he not unconsciously in-
terfered with his uncle's love-affair. The immediate in-
clination that he had manifested for Barbara Henschel
was probably only a caprice, that he himseK would not
have been able to explain. He had placed it to her dis-
play of philosophy at his first interview with her ; but as
we have seen, she had not shown any evidence of an ac-
quaintance with the subject, and it is probable, therefore,
that he deceived himself on this point. That he should
have been attracted by that indescribable charm that she
possessed — a charm that was not exactly beauty, but rather

^'a feast fob the gods." 109

a potentiality for beauty, as well as by the sweetness of her
manners, was not surprising ; but that he should have
carried it to the extent of making her his confidante and
the arbiter between him and his nephews was certainly
not an act compatible with the idea that his mind was a
normal one, acting within the limits of perfect mental
health. Most people, no matter how regularly acting
are their brains, perpetrate acts that are essentially insane
— acts, in fact, that if committed by a lunatic having the
freedom of the asylum ward, would certainly lead to his
being put in a strait-jacket, or some other kind of dur-
ance, or to a further extension of the period of his se-
questration. Mr. Oldmixon appeared to be especially
liable to say or do something that would be called insane
by any competent alienist, and yet in the generality of his
acts to exhibit a strength of purpose and of will and a
capacity for thought of a robust character that the most
intellectual man alive might have envied. In the mat-
ter of his love-affairs he had come very near to positive
lunacy, if he had not actually crossed the line ; but he had
shown an ability to get out of them with as great a de-
gree of facility as to enter into them, and had finally
announced that never again would he entertain the emo-
tion of love in his heart. This power was one that no
lunatic could have possessed. It really seemed as though
he had the ability to become sane or insane at will. He
had frequently reasoned with himself on this point, and
had arrived at the conviction that he really did possess
this somewhat dangerous power.

While Brooks was referring to Hogarth's marriage,
Mr. Oldmixon was determining what answer he should
give. Before the speaker had finished, he had fully re-
solved upon the reply to make. He knew that his change

110 ME. OLBMIXON.

of a£Eection from one nephew to the other would sooner
or later become known, and he very shrewdly resolved
that the announcement should come from himself.
Brooks was something of a gossip, as are most club men,
and Mr. Oldmixon knew that before twenty-four hours
had expired the story, as he was now about to give it,
would be all over New York.

^ " Yes," he answered ; '' my nephew Hogarth was mar-
ried yesterday to a lady who is, I understand, one of the
worthiest of her sex. She is entirely too good for him.
Henceforth I do not expect to have any friendly rela-
tions with my nephew Hogarth. I hope never to see him
or even to hear of him again. My nephew Jack, from
whom for many years 1 have unfortunately, through my
own acts, been estranged, has been good enough to forgive
me, and henceforth will be my adopted son. It would be
unbecoming in me on this occasion to express my opin-
ion of either of my nephews ; but it can readily be infer-
red from what I have said. Now, gentlemen, that I have
discharged an unpleasant, though an imperative, duty, let
us change the subject. "

^^ By George, Uncle Victor I" exclaimed Mr. Brooks,
who with the other two gentlemen had listened with the
greatest attention to Mr. Oldmixon 's remarks, ^' that is
the manliest and most straightforward speech I ever
heard. You're a trump I"

*^ Allow me to shake you by the hand, Mr. Oldmixon,"
said Mr. Partridge, with equal warmth, but, as was nat-
ural in a stranger, with more dignity. '* Your nephew is
certainly to be congratulated on having an uncle not
ashamed to admit his fault ; and I have no doubt you are
equally to be congratulated on your nephew. "

As to Jack, his heart was too full to speak. He had

''a feast fob the gods." Ill

appreciated at its real value every word his uncle had said,
and he began to think that a total revolution had taken
place in his character. And he admired above all else
the decision and strength of mind that had been exhib-
ited in seizing the opportunity that had been oflfered
for making an explanation, thus forestalling preposterous
rumors that would otherwise be sure to arise, as well as
the relation that might be set afloat by what was now
the other side of the house. Finally he managed to
stammer out his thanks to his uncle, and then the dinner
proceeded.

CHAPTER VIII.

A HOBBIBLE DEED.

^' My friends," said Mr. Oldmixon, after they had fin-
ished their soup and were scanning their menvs with a
view of forming pleasant anticipations of the next course,
^' I have taken the liberty of asking you to assist in the
inauguration of a new dish. It is one that I have myself,
after much thought and no little labor, discovered and in-
vented. It is the one that I am now about to refer to
your critical judgments, and this will be the first time that
any one save your humble servant will have submitted it
to the action of his gustatory nerves. I have named it,
in honor of myself, PeUtes croustades a la Oldmioson.^^

As Mr. Oldmixon finished speaking, a servant entered
with a dish elaborately garnished, which he placed on the
table before that gentleman, and after leaving it there a
few moments for the admiration of the company, proceed-
ed to hand it round, while Mr. Oldmixon went on with
an account of the wonderful delicacy.

^ ' I shall not tell you what it is, ' ' he said, ^* till you have
eaten it and given me your honest opinions of it. And
mind, I want your real, honor-bright opinions ; for if this
production is bad or indiflferent I want to know the fact
just as certainly as though it were good. Such palates
as you gentlemen possess are of infinite use to the gastron-
omist, especially to me ; for as I get older I fear I am
losing that dainty, discriminating, and penetrating sense

A HORRIBLE DEED. 113

of taste for which I used to be distinguished. Now, my
friends, let us in silence concentrate our attention on what
the gods have given us."

Brooks was the first to speak. * ' By all the deities that
ever feasted on Mount Olympus," he exclaimed, shaking
hands across the table with Mr. Oldmixon, " I can keep
silent no longer. That is, without exception, the most
delectable morsel that ever went down my throat. You
ought to be crowned king of the gastronomes."

"Yes," said Mr. Partridge ; "you have capped the
climax of a long and honorable life with a performance
that of itself will hand down your name to posterity as
one of the greatest benefactors of mankind. Dainties
like this cause us to think that there is, after all, something
godlike in the human mind. "

Mr. Oldmixon was delighted. He bowed and smiled
and rubbed his hands together, and uttered many little
deprecatory speeches, which, however, deceived no one.

" Now, Jack, my boy," he said, addressing his nephew,
who had already, with the others, been helped a second
time, " you are an artist, and can therefore sympathize
with a brother artist, even if he does work in a different
and perhaps a humbler field. What do you think of my
new dish ?"

" What I could say, " replied Jack, " would be common-
place after the encomiums of Mr. Brooks and Mr. Part-
ridge, who are both such consummate gourmands ; but I
think 1 detect in this most exquisite compound a quality
that will commend it to those who are in search of new
sensations. You know, doubtless, that physiologists have
discovered that there are nerve papillae that only react to
certain stimuli, or perhaps I should be more correct were I
to say that there are certain nerve-centres that only re-

114 MR. OLDMIXON.

spond to particular excitations. These petites crovstadea^
to which you have appropriately given your name, appear
to nie to have the power of rousing into action that part
of the brain that presides over the imagination. I have
been trying, as you know, to get a subject for Mr. Vander
Linden's picture. 1 have read book after book in search
of an idea ; I have studied a dozen diflEerent systems of
religion ; I have drank champagne, sherry and egg, milk-
punch, and, what was specially recommended, arrack, but
all to no eflEect. Then 1 have sat with a cigar in my
mouth for hours at a time, trying my utmost. 1 might
as well have ducked my head in a horse-pond for all the
good I received. But hardly had I eaten a mouthful of
this brain-tickling compound than the conception began
to come ; and ere I had finished one croustade it was be-
fore me in all its completeness. I am eating another now
to fix it indelibly on my mind, just as the photographer
fixes the image on his sensitive plate.

"Bravo ! Mr. Oldmixon," exclaimed Brooks, "you
are the most appreciative of us all. No wonder your
uncle is proud of you. If 1 had a nephew who could
talk that way about any dish 1 might discover, I'd cher-
ish him as the apple of my eye, whatever that may be."

"Jack, my boy," said Mr. Oldmixon, much moved,
" you are a gentleman and a scholar. More than that 1
cannot say, except that 1 am grateful. We'll not ask
you to tell us what subject the petites croustades have
evolved out of your brain, but you must promise to give
us a first look at your picture. Now, my friends, tell me
what constitutes the chief constituent of this dish ?"

One guessed one thing, and one another — no two
agreeing, however. Brooks thought it was Strasburg
goose liver, but admitted that it had a much more delec-

A HORRIBLE DEED. 115

table flavor than that famous edible. Mr. Partridge at
first frankly confessed that he did not know what it was,
but afterward thought there was something about it
that reminded him of a dish he had eaten in Japan, which
was composed mainly of a vegetable, the name of which
he had forgotten ; and Jack gave it as his opinion that it
consisted essentially of the concentrated essence of the
flesh of the green turtle mingled with cocks' combs cut
into dice.

Then Mr. Oldmixon, after drinking another glass of
old Madeira-rthe wine that had been served with his cu-
linary triumph — related the history that all were anxiously
waiting to hear.

" I have a young medical friend," he said, ^^ who is an
assiduous student of physiology. He performs a great
many original experiments, and sacrifices numbers of all
kinds of animals. He was kind enough, about a month
ago, to invite me to witness some of his investigations, and
I accordingly went to his laboratory for that purpose.
In the course of his procedures he killed a dozen or more
splendid frogs, and I saw then — what was a revelation to
me — that that animal has a remarkably large liver. At
once the idea occurred to me that something very won-
derful in the gastronomic art might be made out of frogs'
livers. He gave me all I wanted, and 1 took them home
with me, and that very night made my first experiment
with them. The result, although not entirely satisfac-
tory, was nevertheless enough to show me that I had
made a discovery that ought to immortalize me, if I met
with the appreciation to which I felt I was fairly entitled.
Of course I got more livers from my friend, and also from
several small boys that 1 employed to visit the swamps
along the north side of Long Island Sound, and to capture

^,

116 ME. OLDMIXOK.

the reptile. As yon know, the only parts bronght to onr
markets are the hind legs, which, thongh good enough
in their way, are in nowise comparable to the liver. I
may say, en parentkese^ that I have made arrangements
with a frog-catcher in Canada to send me every week
six dozen frogs' livers. Well, I made numerous essays
to perfect the modes of cooking the delicacy I had dis-
covered, and now I have definitely decided upon ten dif-
ferent methods. The compound you have eaten to-night
is one of the best. Of course it requires an artist to cook
it — a male artist. It appears to be altogether beyond
the power of a woman-cook. Now, I'll tell you in gen-
eral terms how this particular dish is prepared."

At this Brooks got out his pencil, and proceeded to
take, notes on the back of his menu of the details given
by Mr. Oldmixon.

*' First," said that gentleman, ^^ you cut the livers
into dice, then you take a sufficiency of truffles and fresh
mushrooms — fresh, mind you, Brooks, not those horrid
little buttons that come from France — which you also cut
up, but into very fine pieces — not much bigger, in fact,
than the head of a pin ; next you add a little rice-flour,
then your seasoning — salt, pepper, butter — a few drops
of lemon- juice, and several yolks of eggs. Now, the next
stage is very important, and I worked at this a long time
and experimented with many things before I got the
right one. Nothing can take the place of the substance
next to be added. It seems to be the only thing capable
of bringing out, in all its ethereal delicacy, the full flavor
of the livers ; it is pur^ of pheasant. Add enough of
this to make the consistency of the mass about that of a
rather thin mush. Then have your croustades ready.
They should be made either of rice, or what is, I think,

A HOREIBLE DEED. 117

a little better — and to this point I have directed hours of
anxious thought — of powdered maecaroni. These, as
you have doubtless perceived, are of rice ; and the fact
is owing to the obstinancy of the great man who presides
over the kitchen of this club, and who had the imperti-
nence to tell me that maecaroni couldn't be powdered
fine enough ; they are to be cooked in a hain-marie, and
when they are nearly done a little silver funnel should
be inserted into each down to the bottom, and a tea-
spoonful of old and very dry Madeira poured in. By
this arrangement, which is original with me, the wine
goes to the bottom, where it is heated, and the ethereal
vapors, instead of being dissipated in the air, permeate
the mass, and give it their delicious odors and flavors."

" You are a wonderful man, Mr. Oldmixon," said Mr.
Partridge ; "I think 1 recollect your directions suf-
ficiently to try this dish when I get back to St. Louis.
We are famous for our frogs there."

*' I shall try it to-morrow if I can get the livers," said
Brooks ; *' and I agree with Mr. Partridge in saying that
you are a wonderful man."

" I ought to have been educated as a cook, I suppose,"
rejoined Mr. Oldmixon, with great complacency. " I
have more respect for a cordon tleu than I have for a
bishop."

As to Jack, he could not conceal his astonishment.
His lincle was altogether a different kind of a man from
what he had anticipated. He remembered him twelve
years ago as irritable, fretful, prone to say disagreeable
things, even to those he liked, ready to take offence at
trifles or when no offence was intended, and then cruel
both in language and acts. Now he was good-tempered,
anxious to please, considerate — in fact, the reverse in

118 MB. OLDMIXON.

almost every mental characteristic. "Age," thought
Jack, " sits well on him. Some persons become dis-
agreeable as they get old, but Uncle Victor is certainly
an exception."

The dinner proceeded to the entire satisfaction of Mr.
Oldmixon and his guests, and the conversation, under the
influence of the associations and, perhaps, in no small
degree to the wines, not one of which was commonplace,
became more than usually brilliant when compared with
the talk that is ordinarily indulged in at New York club
dinners. The host interfered no further with the menu
till Jt little while before the canvas-backs were reached.
Then he called a servant to him :

'' Go down to the kitchen," he whispered, but loud
enough for all at the table to hear him, as he intended
they should, " and bring me word from M. David what
temperature exists at a point ten inches distant from the
front of his fire. I can't trust these Frenchmen," he
continued aloud, after the man had gone, " to cook can-
vas-backs, so I prefer to direct the operation myself. A
fire too hot or a half minute too long in the roasting
spoils the ducks. The heat and the time should be ex-
quisitely proportioned to each other, and then you have
a bird that ought to be held up as the reward for us in
the next world, if we do our duty in this."

Here the servant that he had sent to the kitchen re-
turned, and handed Mr. Oldmixon a card.

'* Sixty-seven and five tenths,' ' he read. '' That won't
do. It must be twice as hot. Go down and tell him.
Hello ! Stop ! He's a Frenchman, and uses a centigrade
thermometer. Wait a moment."

He took a pencil from his pocket, and made a little cal-
culation on the back of the card.

((
((

A HORRIBLE DEED. 119

" It would be 153J° Fahrenheit," he resumed. '' That
will do nicely. Now, are the ducks ready ?"
Yes, sir ; everything is in readiness."
Very well. Now, go down and give my compli-
ments to M. David, and request him to be kind enough
to observe these directions : place the ducks in front of
the fire, with the screen before them, when I ring the
bell. Then when I ring it a second time remove the
screen ; and when I ring it a third time replace the
screen and bring the ducks here as fast as the dumb-
waiter and jiPiT legs can carry them. Now, are you sure
you imderstand ?"

*' Oh, yes, sir ; perfectly sure."

** Then go, and may the Lord have mercy on your
soul if you make any mistake, for I shall have none on
your body 1"

As soon as the man disappeared, Mr. Oldmixon rose
from the table and went to the end of the room, where a
little button projected from the wall, showing the exist-
ence of communication with an electrical bell. He waited
till he thought the man had had time to reach the
kitchen, and then he pressed the button.

'' Now," he said, " the screen is being placed in front
of the fire and the ducks on the spit behind the screen
and ten inches from the fire." After a little time, with
his watch in his hand, he again pressed the button.

*' With that," he remarked, as he walked up and down
the floor, still holding his watch in his hand, '' the
screen is removed and the cooking begins. Exactly six-
teen minutes and a half will be required to accomplish
the act to perfection. A half minute more or less will
certainly spoil the ducks."

'^Let him alone," said Brooks, in a whisper to the

120 3£B. OLDMIXON.

Other gentlemen. " Ile'll walk the floor and talk, and
you'll certainly get some valuable hints from what he
says, I've seen him at this before. How much hum-
bug there is in it I don't know. Perhaps all this care is
necessary. I do know, however, that no canvas-backs
in Kew York or anywhere else are as good as those he
cooks."

*' Tou are men after my own heart," continued Mr.
Oldmixon. *'Many persons I know would have been
iliggasted on being told that they had eaten frogs' livers.
Bat vou were all as pleased over the information as
thongh 1 had told you that the dish was made of pork
and beans. Ha ! ha ! pork and beans ! Well, I should
think so I The Lord deliver me from pork and beans !
Ifow, I've no prejudices ; 1 can eat anything that's
flood ; I've eaten rattlesnake, and it's good. I've eaten
eroWy and when properly cooked— not ' b'iled ' — it's
20od. I've eaten shark's fins, and they're as good as the
green fat of the turtle. Only one thing was rather dis-
appointing, and that was wolf -steak ; I tried that once'
in the Rocky Mountains, and it was simply damnable. It
tasted as though it might be cloth woven of leather shoe-
strings. But the fat of the wolf, when he has any, isn't
a bad substitute for butter.

**I say. Partridge," he continued, addressing that
gentleman after looking at the watch in his hand, while
he continued to pace the floor, '^ did you ever eat a
peacock ?' '

*^ No," answered that gentleman ; '^ I can't say that
I've been very venturesome in dietetics. You have
given me a lesson, however, that I shall not fail to im-
prove. "

**Wliat about the peacock. Uncle Victor?" said

A HOBBIBLE DEED. 121

Brooks, winking at the others, as much as to say, ^^ Now,
we'll draw him out."

" What about the peacock ? Oh, nothing, except that
it's had its day, and will probably never regain its former
position in gastronomy. Formerly it was food for kings
and princes. Hortensius introduced it to the Romans in
a magnificent feast that he gave when he was made
augur. The price of a peacock in his day was about
ten dollars of our money, which, allowing for the depre-
ciation of gold and silver, would make about fifty dollars
now. Florentius says it is a noble bird, whose flesh
should only be served to lovers and heroes ; and Donatus
says women should not be allowed to eat its flesh, for
that it predisposes to vanity, and they are vain enough
already ; and Du Boise declares that only men of gentle
blood should be permitted to have it on their tables.
They roasted it on a spit, and it was always served with
its feathers on. Just before cooking it, it was skinned
very carefully, and then before sending it to table the
skin and feathers were replaced, the crest and tail spread
out, and in this gorgeous fashion it made its appearance
before the guests.

^' Sixteen minutes," he continued, going to the bell-
knob and resting a finger gently on it. ^' In half a
minute our ducks will be done. Excuse me a moment,
my friends. This requires all the attention that can be
given to it. At another time I'll tell — there !" as he
pressed strongly on the button. '' To the very second.
Joseph," to a servant who stood by with a decanter full
of ruby wine, waiting for orders, *' have you taken the
temperature ?"

^'Yes, sir."

''What was it?'*
6

122 MB. OLDMtXOlS'.

a

Sixty-four and a half, sir ; I thonglit that was near
enough."

'' I told you sixty-five, didn't I ?"

"Yes, sir."

" Then it was a great piece of impertinence for you to
put your opinion against mine. I shall report your con-
duct to the house committee. Bring me the thermom-
eter," he continued, taking the decanter from the
man. The instrument which was passed through a cork
was handed to him. He inserted the cork into the de-
canter, and slowly pushed the thermometer through the
wine, reading off the temperatures as he did so : " Sixty-
eight, sixty-seven, sixty-six, sixty-five, sixty-four, sixty-
three. From sixty-eight to sixty-three. Now, don't you
see," addressing the man, " that this wine ranges from
sixty-eight at the top to sixty-three at the bottom ? Now,
I turn the decanter upside down two or three times, and
now, as you see, the temperature is a uniform sixty-five.
Keep it so. Ah, here are our ducks !" as another man
entered with four splendid-looking birds on a dish.
"Now, my friends, I wouldn't exchange the next half
hour of my life for the same length of time in the exist-
ence of any man on earth."

He seated himself at the table, and the ducks being
passed round, each gentleman took a whole one and
proceeded to cut off the breast on each side with a knife
as sharp as a razor. Then the carcasses were removed,
and in silence the delicious morsels were eaten. Only
once was a word spoken, and that was when Mr. Par-
tridge asked a servant for some currant jelly. Mr. Old-
mixon raised his eyes for a moment, but was too polite to
make any remark. From that time on, however, his
spirits seemed to have declined. He made no more

A HOEEIBLE DEED. 128

speeches, and answered only in monosyllables. His coun-
tenance wore a dejected air that was totally at variance
with the jovial expression it had born§ during the early
part of the dinner. Brooks understood the matter, but
Jack was unable to account for a change so radical as to
be almost alarming. He was apprehensive that some-
thing serious — an apoplectic attack, for instance — might
be about to occur. While he was trying to find a solu-
tion of the circumstance, Mr. Oldmixon took a little vial
from his pocket, and removing the cork held the open
mouth to his nose.

'' A little faint," he said, '^ that is all. I suppose it's
the heat. The room is hot, isn't it ?"

'/ Yes," answered Jack ; *^ it is warmer than it need
be. Shall I open the window, uncle V ' rising as he
spoke.

" Ko, no ; it's over now. My heart is a little weak,
so I'm told, and occasionally I have to take a sniflE of
nitrite of amyl. It acts at once like a charm."

But although Mr. Oldmixon declared that he was all
right, it was evident that there was going to be no more
hilarity that night. The rest of the dinner was eaten
almost in silence ; and at its close, Mr. Partridge, looking
at his watch, pleaded another engagement ; and after a
few polite speeches on both sides took his departure.
No sooner had the door closed upon him than Mr. Old-
mixon broke forth :

" This is the last time that fellow dines with me.
Great heavens ! to think that I should have been so im-
posed upon. 1 took him for a man of gentlemanly in-
stincts, of fine perceptions, of delicate taste, and I find
him to be a boorish, uncouth cad, that it is contamination
to have at my table. Brooks, Jack — I ask pardon of

124 MR. OLDMIXOIS^.

both of you for asking you to meet a low-strung, coarse-
minded lout. "

Brooks smiled knowingly, but Jack was astonished at
his uncle's vehement abuse of a man for whom all
through the early part of the dinner he had shown great
respect.

" What did he do ?" he at least managed to inquire,
though he was somewhat apprehensive that in the at-
tempt to answer his uncle might again experience the
inconvenience of having a weak heart. " He seemed to
me to be a gentleman,"

Mr. Oldmixon was overcome, and was obliged again to
have recourse to his vial.

" What did he do ?" he shrieked rather than spoke,
after he had refreshed himself with a couple of inhala-
tions. *' Didn't you hear him ask for currant jelly ?
Didn't you see him spread it over the noble flesh on his
plate, as though he were daubing a piece of bread with
molasses ? Didn't you see him treat the glorious bird as
though it were a muscovy ? O Jack, Jack, that you of
all men should ask me what he did !" And Mr. Old-
mixon buried his face in his hands and trembled as
though he were seized with a tit of the ague.

^^1 didn't observe him," said Jack, apologetically.
^' 1 was so busy with the contemplation and the disposi-
tion of what 1 had on my own plate that I neither heard
nor saw Mr. Partridge. But come, uncle ; we three can
afford to forgive him. Evidently he was unconscious of
his crime."

^^ Yes, that's the worst of it. If he had done it
through spite or bravado, or because the duck was badly
cooked, I could forgive him ; but to do such a thing as
that through ignorance or because he liked it puts a wall

A HORRIBLE DEED. 125

between him and me that can never come down. Hence-
forth our paths through life are as divergent as north
and south. The man that puts currant jelly on a canvas-
back can never be the associate, much less the friend, of
Victor Constantino Oldmixon. 1 have seen the crime
committed before, and it has always made me shudder ;
but this is the first time, and it shall be the last, that
such an outrage has occurred at my table."

Nothing that either Brooks or Jack could say had the
least effect in pacifying Mr. Oldmixon. *^It's worse
than that other thing," he whispered to Jack as they
stood on the porch of the LucuUus Club House while his
coupe was driving up. I thought nothing could touch me
like that ; but this has sounded a lower depth. Good-
night. 1 intended to have taken you home with me and
to have talked over some matters of great importance,
but this has unfitted me for all mental exertion. I'll
call for you to-morrow or next day, and bring you down
to my house. If I don't, come and see me ; and in the
mean time, my boy, think whether it wouldn't be pleas-
ant for you to live with me. I'll give you a whole floor
to yourself, and there's a splendid room that will do for
your studio. I'm getting old, Jack. Such a thing as
tliis to-night tells on me, and I may go now any day.
Good-night again," as Jack, with a few consolatory
words, helped him into his carriage. " I'll see you to-
morrow, or next day at farthest."

Jack stood on the steps for a moment, thinking of the
singular behavior of his uncle. Many circumstances in
his conduct, as he had observed it during the twelve
hours that had elapsed since the reconciliation, appeared
to him to be incompatible with the existence of a sound
state of mind. The statement of his love affairs, and es-

126 MR. OLDMIXON.

peciallj of the last one ; the unreasonable prejudice that
had been suddenly formed against Hogarth, to the entire
disregard of acts on the part of the young man that
would, at any time during the last twelve years, have
justified renunciation by his uncle ; the intense affection
that had sprung up within a few hours for him, Jack ;
the excessive interest he had shown in the new dish he
had compounded out of frogs' livers ; the excessive degree
of irritation he had shown at Mr. Partridge's act of put-
ting currant jelly on the canvas-back ; and last, but cer-
tainly not least, the existence of a peculiar excitability
that Jack could not describe to himself, but which he
clearly saw was unnatural, and which had marked his
uncle's manner during the dinner, until with Mr. Part-
ridge's lapsus it had disappeared, to be succeeded by an
equally abnormal mental inertia — all these facts had
made a deep impression upon him, and had kept him
through the dinner wondering whether or not his uncle
was a lunatic. Several times, just as he had arrived at
the conclusion that he certainly was of unsound mind, he
would say something that indicated the existence of a
force of intellect and a degree of mental equanimity
such as Jack could not conceive could be possessed by an
insane person. Of course Jack had never given any
time to the study of insanity. All he knew of mental
aberration he had got from reading accounts of murders
and other acts of violence, and of will-trials in the news-
papers, and from a couple of visits he had paid to a lunatic
asylum with a young medical friend when he was study-
ing types for a picture of Ophelia he was painting. He
had observed that at one time his uncle had looked at
Mr. Partridge with such a diabolical expression on his face
that Jack had, for a moment, feared that he intended to

A HORRIBLE DEED. 127

throttle the unfortunate gentleman. He had seen just
such a look on the countenance of a lunatic, who the
next day had killed his keeper by striking him over the
head with a wash-tub. Still, he had noticed that Mr.
Brooks, who had known Mr. Oldmixon very intimately
for many years, did not appear to be astonished at any-
thing that had occurred. Perhaps, after all, it was only
an eccentric manner, showing that his uncle, instead of
diflEering a little from other people, differed a great deal.
And with this comforting doubt Jack took a cab that
was standing in front of the club house, and was driven
to the Vandyke,

CHAPTER IX.

A DISAPPOINTED COUPLE.

At tlie two windows of a room in an old and straggling
hotol in the ancient city of Annapolis sat Mr. and Mrs.
Hogarth Oldmixon. Mr. Hogarth Oldmixon was seated
at one window and Mrs. Hogarth Oldmixon at the other,
and each was looking eagerly into the deserted street, as
though trying to discover something that might relieve
the distressing monotony of the situation. There did
not appear to be, if this was their object, much chance of
a successful result, for the rain was pouring down in tor-
rents, and not a creature of any kind was visible save the
old negro man at the comer who sold crabs, and who
gallantly continued to fly his flag, regardless of the un-
favorable state of the atmosphere. Every now and then
a crab would crawl over the edge of the basket in which
it, with its companions in captivity, was confined, and
endeavor to make its way to the torrent of water that
flowed down the gutter ; but the old man was always too
quick for it, and with a word and a blow tossed it into
the receptacle whence it had come. Mr. and Mrs.
Hogarth Oldmixon had watched the old man for consid-
erably over an hour, and had extracted from his actions
all the amusement that it was possible to get. At first
they had laughed inordinately at the antics of the vener-
able negro, most of whose joints appeared to be stiflE with
rheumatism ; but eventually, as nearly always happens in

A DISAPPOESTTED COUPLE. 129

such cases, the most eccentric contortions that he made
failed to excite their risible faculties. All mental im-
pressions and all sensations, however^ pleasant they may
be at first, become wearisome or painful by their con-
tinuance or frequent repetition. The perfection of physi-
cal comfort is the absence of any feeling in any pail; of
the body ; and, strange as it may seem, the persistence of
a sensorial impression leads to the abolition of sensibility
for all other impressions that can be made on the organ
receiving them. If a person could be caused to restrict
his vision to the sight of one single* object, he would be-
come blind so far as all other objects are concerned ; the
hearing of one unvarying sound would cause deafness to
all other sounds ; a single sapid substance held in the
mouth destroys the perception of taste for other sub-
stances ; and the mind running constantly on one subject
becomes incapable of appreciating others.

But before this stage is reached a state of the most in-
tense weariness is experienced. The period required,
however, to bring about this condition varies in diflferent
persons. In the cases of Mr. and Mrs. Hogarth Old-
mi xon an hour had been sufficient. I have known in-
stances in which, through some peculiar unimpressibility
of the brain, the same excitation produced pleasure after
hundreds of repetitions. Thus at the theatre one even-
ing 1 witnessed the three hundred and seventy-eighth
representation of the grand spectacular piece entitled the
" Ice Demon of the Frozen Caves." It was full of stupid
jokes, and I observed that no one among the audience
laughed so long or so loud over each attempted witticism
or ludicrous situation as did a member of the orchestra
who played the violoncello. So extraordinary apparently

was the fact, that during an entr^act I sought out the
6*

130 MR. OLDMIXON.

leader of the band. 1 found liim imbibing lager beer in
the cellar, and nothing loath to drink a couple of glasses
with me.

" Who is the man," I asked, '' that plays the violon-
cello ?"

" Oh, dot's Mr. Schunemann."

" A new member of your splendid orchestra ?" I said,
insidiously and interrogatively.

" Gott in Himmel, no ! I dinks 1 have Schunemann
seven year."

" And does he play every night ?"

** I should dink so, and two matinees extra."

" Then he has played in the orchestra during the
three hundred and seventy-eight times that the ^Ice
Demon of the Frozen Caves ' has been performed ?"

"Zurely. If he didn't, don't you thought I would
knew it ?"

" I saw him laughing at the fun of the piece," I said,
humbly.

" Laugh I I should dink so I I laugh at him myself
two hundred times. Den 1 laugh no more. But Schu-
nemann is joost de most — schwermuthig — saddest man
dot lives in New York, and he never lauglis only when
he sees dot performance, and den he lauglis all de while."

It was the dreariest of dreary spectacles to me after I
had seen it once, and yet these men could laugh over it
hundreds of times I

But Mr. and Mrs. Hogarth Oldmixon were differently
constituted. For them — especially for Mr. Hogarth Old-
mixon — variety was the spice of life, and just at this
time their life was absolutely free from spice. What
was to be done ? Mr. Hogarth had never cultivated the
little conversational power that he once had, but had de-

A DISAPPOINTED COUPLE. 131

veloped a kind that was scarcely adapted to the society
to which he was now condemned ; and Mrs. Hogarth,
who could talk enough when the conditions were favor-
able, found it impossible to keep up a conversation with
a man who only answered, when he answered at all, with
a '' yes" or a '' no."

They had been married five days, and this was their
wedding-journey. The prospect for a cheerful and a
happy married life was certainly not bright, and Mrs.
Hogarth felt her heart sink within her as she thought of
what was probably before her in the long future. She
was not a particularly intelligent woman. She had man-
aged thus far to get through life without any special
mental exertion. To be sure, she had thought, when
occasion had seemed to require her to think ; but the
effort to concentrate her attention upon any subjects but
dress and the pleasures of society had been so unpleas-
ant, that for several years past she had allowed her
mother to do for her such thinking as was absolutely
necessary should bo done by some one in her behalf.
When, therefore, Mr. Hogarth Oldmixon, after having
seen her at the opera, and being introduced to her under
the impression that she was a rich plum worthy of his
gathering, had asked her to be his wife, she had answered
that she had no objections if mamma approved ; that she
had not considered the matter herself, and did not see
that it would do any good for her to bother over it ; that
mamma knew what was best for her, and that — ^yes, he
might kiss her if he cared to, but that for her part she
thought such things were very vulgar ; and much else to
the same effect.

Then Mr. Hogarth had sought an interview with Mrs.
White, and in the best language at his command had

iita MIL OhDMlXOy.

oimtual h'm lieart Up that lady regnant in the White

** Wo liaro neen very little of yon, Mr. Oldmixon," she
liA/l ropliody urnoothing the front of her dress with her
fAt ImtiUf and Mottling herself into her chair, as though
f(otting really for a long conversation. ^^ Our sets are dif-
{(srmt, Hoitiiity in New York is so large, that it is im-
poMllilo to know everybody worth knowing. Ton are
tho Hon of Mr. Victor Oldmixon, I believe ?"

'' No, madam, I am his nephew."

*' I thought you were his son. Mr. Condor, who
iMHUnHW to know everything, certainly told me that you
woru hiM Hon."

'* I am only his nephew."

*M)f ooumo I am obliged to consider the future of
my duar child. She is so inexperienced and so far re-
mo vod fi*om all moroonary motives that she would never
think of Huoh a thing herself. She would give her heart,
and thou nhu would think nothing more was required.
Hut wo mothora, Mr. Oldmixon, must look farther. I
thought you wore Mr. Oldmixon's son, and that you
wouldi tl^oroforo^ l)0 tlio heir to his estate, wliich, thoiigh
I undorHtaml it is not very large as these things are con-
Hidortn) in our day, is ample enough for all practical pur-
|HUH^ As you are not his son, I am obliged, in the in-
t^iVHta of my SNVoot duld, to ask you what are your pres*
Mit uuvMM of suppiuti and what are your prospects for
Uw futuro r

lU^itarth wa» not a diplomati$t» nor skiUed in didactic
f^HH\ ^iH>oially when his antagcoiist was a woman. He
kn^w xx^rY lit iW of r^^fined and educailed women, though
hU a\\)uaiutiaK^ with certain r^pretsentativcs of a lar^
oW^ vxf t)H> ;$^:k. \r;» not rei$trict^ to narrow limitsw He

I

A DISAPPOINTED COUPLE. 133

had seen Camilla Wliite at the opera, and he had fallen
in love with her at first sight, for reasons that must have
been fully as inexplicable to himself as they were to
others. To be sure, her father was supposed to have
money ; but though this fact may have had some influ-
ence in causing him to continue his addresses, it could
have had none in the origination of his passion. She
was not pretty, she was not distinguished-looking, she
was not, as a rule, even well dressed, though doubtless
her clothing was expensive ; and yet two Oldmixons —
uncle and nephew — had fallen violently in love with her,
and she had been the innocent cause of their estrange-
ment.

Now, Hogarth never told the truth when a lie would
better or even equally serve his purpose. His uncle
made liim an allowance of three thousand dollars a year,
and had told him that he might consider himself his heir.
Over and over again he had said to him : " Hogarth, my
boy, all that I have in the world will be yours when I
die. That milksop Jack, who 1 don't believe has a
drop of Oldmixon blood in his veins, shall never have
a cent of my money ;'' and Hogarth had duly said,
" Thank you. Uncle Victor," without appearing to notice
the insult to his mother, which, as the reader knows, was
the same that Jack had resented so energetically while
only a boy.

He might, therefore, with perfect truth have declared
that, although only a nephew, he was Mr. Oldmixon's
sole heir ; but this of itself would not altogether have an-
swered his purpose ; so instead of adding, as was the fact,
that his uncle allowed him three thousand a year, he told
Mrs. White, apprehensive doubtless .that she would deem
this sum insufficient to maintain her daughter in the

134 MR. OLDMIXON.

condition to which she was accustomed, that his allow-
ance was ten thousand, and that doubtless this would
be increased on his marriage.

"My uncle is seventy- five years of age," he said.
" He does not spend more than five or six thousand a
year, for he lives in one of his own houses, and takes his
meals at his club. His income is certainly at least thirty
thousand a year, and 1 am confident that when I marry
he will make mine fifteen thousand."

All this looked very promising to Mrs. White. She
saw already her da,ughter well settled in life as the wife
of a man of ample income and of great expectations.

" I will be equally frank with you, Mr. Oldmixon,"
she said, relaxing greatly in the frigidity of manner that
had characterized the early part of the interview. " Mr.
White is what is generally called ' rich,' but he has eleven
children, and when niy ' thirds ' come out of his estates
there will not be over two hundred and fifty thousand
for each. He has authorized me to say that the allow-
ance of three thousand dollars that he now gives Camilla
will be continued after her marriage, but that she will
get nothing more till his death. To be sure, he is seventy-
two, but he is hale and hearty for his age."

This information had a somewhat depressing infiuence
on Mr. Hogarth ; but he reflected that with an uncle,
whose heir he was, seventy-five years old and a father-
in-law seventy-two, it could not be very long before one
or the other or both would ^ shuflie off this mortal coil,'
and leave him in comparative affluence. His own three
thousand and Camilla's like amount would do very well
for the present, and besides he was really confident that
his uncle would at least double his allowance, so he made
a magnanimous answer to the effect that it was Camilla,

A DISAPPOINTED COUPLE. 135

not money, that he wanted, and Mrs, White had there-
upon graciously given her consent, remarking as she did
so that this at least was an instance of that perfect disin-
terestedness as regarded pecuniary matters that ought to
attend in all aflEairs of the heart, ^' except, Mr. Old-
mixon," she added, '' that every mother is bound to see
that her daughter shall not want for the comforts of
life." So the matter was settled, and Camilla White in
due time became the wife of Hogarth Oldmixon.

Immediately before his marriage he had written a
letter to his uncle, informing him that he was going to
Washington and Annapolis on his wedding tour, that he
expected to be absent about ten days, and that on his
return he should be very happy to present Mrs. Hogarth
Oldmixon to her respected relative.

" She seems almost to know you," he added. " She
has seen you so often from her windows, which are just
opposite yours, that she has formed quite an affection for
you, and she wonders why, since our engagement, you
have not called on her."

This letter lay on Mr. Oldmixon's desk for several
hours unopened, as was often the case with the commu-
nications of his dutiful nephew, and when read, as it was
the next day, had not added to Mr. Oldmixon's peace of
mind. On the contrary, it had made him distinctly un-
comfortable.

" I knew she loved me," he said, mournfully, '* and
now that scoundrel has carried her off. Bitterly shall he
rue his cruelty before I've done with him."

Mr. Hogarth looked up and down the street, and then
at the sky for the twentieth time at least.

" 1 believe it's going to rain all day," he said, at last.
"If it would only stop now we might go and see the

136 MB. OLDMIXON.

Naval Academy. That's what we came here for, was it
not ?"

" Indeed, I don't know," answered his wife, with her
accostomed indifference. " I left it all to you. I sup-
posed there was some reason for your wanting to come
here."

" So there was a reason, but I've been disappointed.
I expected to meet a friend here, and now I find I've
got to stay here three days before she comes."

" A lady I" exclaimed Camilla, roused into something
like interest by her husband's speech.

'^ Yes, a lady," he answered, with something like a
sneering tone in his voice. " Oh, you needn't be jeal-
ous," he continued, with a laugh. " She's sixty years
old, and she owes me two thousand dollars. She's
going to pay it, and that's why I want to see her. It's
money I won from her son at a little game of draw
poker a year ago. Now, Mrs. Oldmixon, are you sat-
isfied ?"

'' I wasn't dissatisfied. You can have as many friends
as you like, men or women."

" Well, you a/re a cool one, I must say," he observed,
after looking at her somewhat contemptuously for a
moment. " You mean to say you don't care how many
lady friends I have ?"

" Whatever suits you will suit me. I suppose we'll
get tired of each other after a while, as mairied people
generally do."

" Well, for my part," said Hogarth, not to be out-
done in nonchalance, "I'm tired already."

Mr. Hogarth was a pretty bad fellow, though not
quite so desperately wicked as his uncle had made him
out to be in his conversation with Barbara Henschel.

A DISAPPODTTED COUPLE. 137

He was a drunkard, a gambler, a liar, a consorter with
vile people of both sexes, and he had probably, without
having formed any distinct intention of doing such a
thing, somewhat hastened his mother's death. Bat he
had not stolen money from Mr. Oldmixon, as that gentle-
man had alleged, nor had he perpetrated any other crime
that would render him amenable to the law. There are
many offences which, though they do not consign the
perpetrator to the penitentiary, place him outside the
pale of respectable society ; and of these Hogarth Old-
mixon had committed more than the share that ordinarily
falls to the lot of the social outcast. Indeed, the total
would, had it been known, have been suflBciently appall-
ing to any one with a spark of decency in his composi-
tion. As it was, no one person knew the extent of
Hogarth Oldmixon 's wickedness so well as he knew it
himself, and hence his reputation was better than he
deserved. If all those that were acquainted with his
conduct could have come together and have compared
notes, each one of them would have been astonished at
the revelations of the others. As the knowing ones,
however, were to a greater or less extent participators in
his lapses against the laws of decency and morality, it
was not very likely that he incurred any great risk of
exposure. He was very reticent even with his intimate
companions in regard to conduct of his with which they
were not particularly concerned, and he had the reputa-
tion of being a remarkably shrewd, sharp, self-reliant,
secretive, and, to a certain extent, unscrupulous man.
The limit to his scrupulousness was his uncle. Whether
he really was attached to the old gentleman or not was
known to no one but himself. He always, so far as ex-
ternals went, treated him with respect, but this was with

138 MR. OLDMIXOK^.

sucli a man much more likely to be based on policy than
on affection. He had several times, however, been
strongly tempted by himself and others to perpetrate
some act of fraud on his uncle, but he had never yet
been able to reconcile conduct of the kind with his con-
science.

He was three years younger than Jack, and, as the
reader already knows, had taken sides with his uncle in
the quarrel into which his brother had been forced.
Since the rupture he had had nothing to do with him,
though once or twice, when his funds had been low, and
he had heard how well Jack was getting on in the world,
he had thought of applying to him for pecuniary assist-
ance. Reflection, however, had tended to convince him
both of the impropriety and the uselessness of such an
appeal.

It was, perhaps, all things considered, fortunate that
his wife was not possessed of any great degree of refined
sensibility or was deeply attached to him. She there-
fore smiled when he remarked that he was already on
the stool of repentance, but made no other answer, doubt-
less for the reason that it was entirely useless for her to
express a concurrence that it was quite obvious she felt.

''I say, Milly," he remarked, after a few minutes'
silence, during which he had, what was an unusual thing
for him, read a few pages in a recently published novel,
'' I shouldn't be surprised if we've made a big mis-
take. 1 don't see though how matters are going to be
helped. We're tied together for life, 1 suppose, and
we' ve got to make the best of a bad bargain. The hero
in this book, when he found out that he had married the
wrong woman, blew his brains out ; but I'm not fool
enough to do that, "

A DISAPPOINTED COUPLE. 139

^' 1 might go home, and then yon could get a divorce
on the ground of desertion."

^' That's so ! Ton seem to have been thinking the
matter over. By George ! To think of a girl of your
age and brought up as strictly as you've been brought
up, knowing so much about divorce I"

A knock at the door interrupted Mrs. Oldmixon in
any reply she might have been about to make, and a ser-
vant entering with a letter still further indisposed her to
give any answer. She always got rid of discussions when
there was the least show of an excuse for so doing.
There was ample reason, as she soon discovered, for de-
ferring the further discussion of the subject to a time
sufficiently remote for her to allow of her giving it ample
consideration.

^' A letter from Kidley," said Mr. Hogarth, reading
the name printed in one comer of the envelope, '^ and
it's forwarded from Washington. I don't see what
reason he has for writing to me, unless it's to tell me
that the old gentleman has seen the propriety of increas-
ing my allowance without waiting for the suggestion to
come from his dutiful nephew."

He tore open the envelope and read the letter. It was
short, and, to judge by the expression of his face, the
contents were not of a character to cause pleasure, and
this impression was heightened by the remarks that fell
from his lips as he finished the perusal, and sat ap-
parently for the moment half stupefied with astonishment
and anger.

" Well," he said, when he had in a measure recovered
from the immediate effects that the information had pro-
duced. ** This is the very devil I I donH understand it
at all. Something's gone wrong that's certain."

140 MR. OLDMIXON.

Mrs. Hogarth raised her eyes at these words, and
looked at her husband as though she had some half-
formed expectation that he would enlighten her ; but
she did not intimate by words that she entertained such
an idea.

" If you knew what was in this letter, Mrs. Old-
mixon," continued her husband, rising as he spoke, and
walking up and down the floor with the letter still in his
hand, '^ you wouldn't take the matter so devilish quietly,
for you'd discover another cause for disappointment in
me. You'd find out that you'd married a beggar."

At this Mrs. Oldmixon roused herself sufficiently to
ask what was the matter.

'^ Just about the worst thing that could happen. lis-
ten to this, and if you've got a heart 1 rather think
the strings will be stretched a little when you get the
news through your head :

'' Deab Sm : I am instructed by Mr. Victor Oldmixon
to notify you, that the allowance of three thousand dol-
lars that he has hitherto made you will cease with the
current month.

" I am also instructed to say that any expectations you
may have entertained relative to being Mr. Oldmixon' s
heir may as well be abandoned, as he has formed views
in regard to the disposition of his property into which
you do not enter.

"And I am further desired by Mr. Oldmixon to in-
form you that the relation of uncle and nephew between
him and you exists now, and will exist in the future, only
in name, and that it will be quite useless for you to seek
personally, or by letter, or by other means for a revoca-
tion of his action in any of the points referred to in this

A DISAPPOINTED COUPLE. 141

letter. Henceforth you and he are strangers to each
other.

*' Your obedient servant,

'^Theobald Ridley."

iC

*' IM give all 1 am worth," he continued, excitedly,

to know what it all means. He must be crazy. I've
done nothing to put him into such a passion with me,
for he is furiously angry, just as he was with Jack a
dozen or more years ago. By G — d I I believe h^s ^t
the bottom of it all. He's got hold of the old fool and
has cut me out."

Another knock at the door was followed by the
entrance of the servant with a second letter which he
apologized for having overlooked, though it had come
in the same mail as the first.

" Ah !'* exclaimed Mr. Hogarth, opening it after the
man had left the room, " this is from Masters. Now I
shall know the ins and outs of the business. He's Kid-
ley's clerk you know, and a friend of mine. He'd better
be. I could — Well, never mind what I could do.
Let's see what he has to say :

^^ Mt peae Ms. Hogarth : Mr. Victor Oldmixon was
down a couple of days ago, and from some cause or other,
the i^ature of which I could not ascertain, is very indig-
nant a^inst you. He has directed that your allowance
be stopped, and has made a new will, giving the whole
of his estate to your brother John, on condition that he
jnarrfes somebody whose name was left blank in the draft
of the will for him to fill up, Mr. Kidley knows who,
but, of course, it's no use trying to get it out of him. If
your brother does not marry this woman within a year

143 MR. OLDMIXON.

after your uncle's decease, the whole estate goes to her.
The idea appears to be to force Mr. John into marrying
her. For what reason you may be able to tell — I can't even
guess. The whole scheme appears to me to look very
much as though it was the offspring of an insane mind,
and if such is the case, you would probably, from your
intimate acquaintance with Mr. Victor, be able to furnish
proof that would satisfy the surrogate or a jury. He
can't live much longer, and, although you can't attack
the will till it is offered for probate, you might very
readily begin now to gather evidence and to talk the mat-
ter up. If you can manage to give him a reputation for
insanity before his death, you will have done a great
deal.

'' I take this occasion to inform you that I am about
setting up for myself, and that I shall make a specialty
of practising in the surrogate's court. It will give me
great pleasure to look after your interests in this or in
any other connection.

'^ Very respectfully,

'* Your obedient servant,

"Jeremiah Masters."

Mrs. Oldmixon had listened with all the attention of
which she was capable to the reading of these letters.
The effect upon her was not, on the whole, inspiriting,
though a hot — hot for her — ^feeling of anger was engen-
dered within her breast. She was quick enough to per-
ceive that the means for a comfortable support had been
suddenly taken away, and that they would have in future
to depend upon the three thousand dollars allowed her
by her father. She saw, also, that the hopes of wealtli
that had been developed in her by a consideration of the

A DISAPPOINTED COUPLE. 143

relation of heir that her husband had borne to his ancle,
were also dashed to the ground. All this was bad
enough, but it was as nothing compared to the indigna-
tion she felt against him for the fraud that his reading
of Mr. Ridley's letter showed he had practised upon her
and her mother. It was not often that she got angry,
for anger was not only troublesome in itself, but was
likely to lead to complications that were themselves
sources of discomfort, and the chief object that Camilla
Oldmixon n^e White had in continuing to exist was her
own personal comfort, to the exclusion, if necessary, of the
personal comfort of every other person in the world.
Now, her comfort had been ruthlessly interfered with.
This man had come to her mother with a lie. He had
told her that his allowance was ten thousand a year, and
this letter that had just been read showed that it had
never been over three thousand. He had, therefore,
cheated her out of seven thousand a year — ten thousand
in fact, for now he had nothing, and all his magnificent
prospects had gone, doubtless through some act of his
own, that he was now ashamed or afraid to confess.

She had kept silent during the reading of the letters,
but her anger was accumulating in force, as fact after
fact was forced upon her attention. She would have
broken out when Hogarth had finished with the first let-
ter, but the entrance of the servant with another had had
the eflEect of calming her for the time being. For, she
argued, it might be that this second communication was
a reversal of the first, and, in that case, rage would have
been an exertion that she might have spared herself.
When, however, she learned that instead of being a con-
tradiction of the other letter, it was a full and detailed
confirmation, she could restrain herself no longer.

144 ME. OLDMIXON.

" You have committed a fraud," she exclaimed.
" Tou told my mother that your allowance was ten
thousand a year. I say nothing of what you declared
relative to your expectations. Tou may honestly have
had them, but this other was a deception in regard to a
matter of fact al&out which there could have been no
mistake. You told a lie, a deliberate, wilful lie, for the
purpose of entrapping me into a marriage with you. If
I had not believed what you said, I should have let you
rot in the street before I'd have married you.'' With
which words Mrs. Oldmixon left the window and sat
down in a rocking-chair near the centre of the room,
and in her excitement rocked herself vigorously.

Mr. Hogarth was astonished. This exhibition of rage
on the part of his wife was a revelation of possibilities
of character that he had not hitherto supposed her to
possess. She had taken everything thus far with such a
degree of indiflEerence, had scarcely ever replied other-
wise than by an expressionless smile to his most cutting
observations, and had evinced so little interest in him or
his fortunes, or, for the matter of that, in their combined
fortunes, that he had supposed her to be one of those
women that take what comes to them, whether good or
bad, with equal equanimity. This outburst was, there-
fore, something for which he was altogether unprepared,
and for a moment he was in doubt what kind of a
reply to make. The fact that he had deceived her and
her mother never entered as a disturbing factor into his
reflections on the subject. He had deceived so many
persons in ways much worse than that that he had adopted
on this occasion, that it failed altogether to touch his con-
science. That he had said'* ten" when he ought to
have said ''three" was, in his estimation, a small mat-

A DISAPPOINTED COUPLE. 145

ter. He certainly did not intend to descend to the
humiliation of asking her forgiveness. On the contrary,
after a very little thought, he resolved that he would
brave it out, and his wife might do what she pleased.
He did not see what she could do. She could use her
tongue on him, it was true, but he could, he rather
thought, beat her at that game, skilful and reckless as
she might be in its exercise. And then he would always
have the alternative of getting out of her presence if the
fire became too hot. He had subdued women before in
his day — women much more formidable than this one,
he thought, and he had invariably found that it was best
in all contests with them not to fire blank cartridges, but
to open ruthlessly at point-blank range with all the artil-
lery he could bring to war. Yes, he would give her a
lesson at once. He would show her just what kind of a
man she had to deal with, and he fiattered himseK that
she would be as much astonished at the knowledge she
would obtain as he had been Vith the demonstration she
had given him. It would be an immense saving of
trouble, and he thought would be far more eflScacious in
the long run. One crushing victory would be better
than even a long and uninterrupted series of small ones.
Besides, he was in the humor for crushing somebody,
and that somebody might as well be a woman, though

the woman was his wife. He was not afraid of women.
7

CHAPTEE X.

BARBARA WOBKB AND THINKS.

Mb. Oldmixon and his remarkable story were in Bar-
bara's thoughts for several days after his visit. Time and
again the idea occurred to her that he was insane, and that
the whole account that he had given of his loves and his
nephews was a figment of his imagination. Her father
encouraged her in this opinion. The old man was of a
practical turn of mindjand frequently saw mental derange-
ment in the conduct of people that was not in accordance
with his conceptions of healthy mental action. " There
are more lunatics out of the asylums than in them," he
was accustomed to say when some particularly erratic per-
formance was brought to his knowledge.

'' Half the world's insane, in my opinion. You've only
to read the newspapers to discover that fact. Indeed, you
needn't even do that. Only go into the business of tax-
idermy and you'll find it out quickly enough. Why,
half the people that I do work for are as mad as March
hares. I don't suppose, however, that we've got a mo-
nopoly of the cranks ;" and then he would laugh heartily,
doubtless as much from the consciousness that he^ at any
rate, was in his soimd mind, as from the conviction that
half the rest of mankind was not.

'' But as to this Mr. Oldmixon, my dear," he said to
Barbara, ''whether he's crazy or not need not concern
us. We're not likely to see him again. So, we'd better

BARBARA WORKS AND THINKS. 147

go our own way and let him go his, whether it's a crazy
one or not."

^' I'm sure he's not crazy, father," answered Barbara.
" He may be different from other men in many things, but
I don't think you should find fault with him for that, for
you've often said that the tendency of civilization was to
destroy the individual diflEerences that gave interest to life
up to a hundred years or so ago. "

*' Yes, yes. I said that, and I say it now. Machinery
and steam and electricity and travel, and, above all, print-
ing — ^newspapers and books — are gradually reducing man-
kind to a state of uniformity. Look at the mere matter
of dress ! "Why, the last time 1 was in Denmark, the men
and women of my native village looked as though they
had just come from a New England town. All through
Europe you see the same thing. It's getting to be the
same with their thoughts too. Take out politics, and all
the civilized nations think alike."

''And then when a man comes who is different from
the others and thinks for himself, you call him a lunatic. "

'' I'm afraid you're right, my girl."

" Well, if that's the sort of a lunatic Mr.Oldmixon is,
I've no objection to your calling him one."

'' Let him drop, my dear," persisted the old man, from
some vague idea of jealousy, which was very apt to arise
in his breast when Barbara evinced any particular interest
in any one — man or woman. " If he ever comes in our
way again it will be time enough to talk about him.
"Now tell me about this silver fox," going, as he spoke, to
the glass case in which the partially mounted skin lay.
*' The gentleman that brought it here was very partic-
ular in his directions about expression. As you know,
it is the most difficult of all animals to approach, or to

148 MR. OLDMIXON.

trap, or to catch in any other way, and I want you, my
dear, to bring all your knowledge and skill to bear on the
matter of indicating the shrewdness of the animal. It
is all ready now for your work. I'll just moisten it a
little, and then you can take it in hand."

Barbara looked at the animal reflectively for several
minutes, apparently considering how she could best bring
out in her work the characteristic qualities of the silver
fox.

u ^e've only mounted ten silver foxes since you began
the business," she said, after looking over a large book
that she took from a shelf near by, " and seven of these
were during the first twenty years after you came here.
That would seem to show that the animal is getting
scarcer."

" Yes, or that it is now so valuable that people would
rather have the two or three hundred doUara each skin
will fetch than to have it stuflPed and set up in their
houses."

''I've never mounted a silver fox, father. Don't you
think you had better do this one ?"

''No, Barbara, I don't think anything of the kind.
Tou know the habits of the animal better than I do, and
you know how to mould the face into the proper expres-
sion infinitely better than I, or, indeed, any one I know
of. The gentleman could have had it mounted for ten
dollars, but he chose to come here and pay fifty — for
Mr. Maurice told him he would get a work of art here."

*' Did he tell you how he got the fox, or give you an
account of his hunt for it ? Any information on these
points would be of great assistance in mounting the
specimen."

"No ; he only told me that last winter he visited a

BARBAEA WORKS AND THINKS. 149

friend at Fort Eesolution, on Great Slave Lake. This
gentleman was a high oflScial in the service of the
Hudson's Bay Company, and gave his visitor the oppor-
tunity for many stirring adventures in the pursuit of skins,
of wliich he was not slow to avail himself."

" Then he's a great traveller, I suppose ?"

*' 1 don't know about that. He must be fond of ad-
venture, or he wouldn't fancy spending a winter at Fort
Kesolution. "

" He didn't shoot the fox. There were no bullet-
holes in the skin."

'' No ; he either caught it in a trap or poisoned it."

*'I hope he didn't poison it," said Barbara; "that
is such a mean way of killing an animal."

Then again, after a few minutes, during which she had
examined the stuffed skin, and which was ready to be
placed in position on its temporary platform : *'I wish
I knew how he caught it. There must be a story about
the adventure, and if I knew it I could make use of it in
getting ideas for setting the animal up."

"Well, my dear, you can ask the owner to tell you
all about it, for he's coming here this morning to get his
treasure. He insisted on calling for it. He'll be disap-
pointed, I'm afraidj unless you work pretty hard for the
next hour."

" Oh, he's coming for it this morning 1 Then I think
I'll wait till he can tell me something about how he
caught it. I'm sorry to disappoint him, but I think he
will be pleased if I can carry out a plan I have for giving
him a good piece of work. So, if you've no objections,
I'll finish that apteryx that Mr. Balman s^nt here."

" Yery well, my dear ; you can do as you please."

" What an uninteresting bird an apteryx is I" she said,

150 ME. OLDMIXON.

after she had spent a few minutes in getting its legs into
proper shape and setting its head in the most advanta-
geous position. * ' There is so little opportunity for making
a striking form. It's about equal, I suppose, to making
a statue of an armless man. 1 can never quite get over
the idea that the apteryx is a monstrosity, like the man
without arms who plays the violin and writes letters and
cuts silhouettes with his toes."

" Ay, ay ; and it isn't remarkable for sense either. I
had a live one once, and every time any one came near
its cage it rammed its head into the sand."

'' It isn't the only animal that thinks it can escape
danger by shutting its eyes to it. Man does the same
thing. What time is the owner of the silver fox coming ?"

'' I suppose he'll call at about twelve o'clock. These
fine fellows don't get out much before that time in the
morning."

*' Is he a fine fellow ? I thought you said the other
day that he didn't look as though he had more money
than he wanted."

" Ha, ha, ha !" laughed the old man ; *' that was only
my clumsy attempt at a joke. Did you ever, my Bar-
bara, see a man, or a woman either, that looked as if they
had more money than they wanted ? There may be such
people, but 1 don't think you or I have ever seen them."

'' Did he seem to care much how the mounting was
done — 1 mean," she added, '^ did he appear to know what
he wanted ?"

*' Ay, did he I" exclaimed the old man. ^' He knows
what's what, that you may depend upon. Do you think
he'd have come here if he didn't, and pay fifty dollars
for what Bangs would charge him ten for ? That looks,
too, as if he had money enough, doesn't it ?"

BARBAEA WORKS AND THINKS. 151

The question was hardly one that required an answer,
and Barbara went on with her work, wondering, how-
ever, what kind of a man he could be that had such a
high appreciation of their art as to pay five times as
much for the mounting of his silver fox as he could get
it done for by another taxidermist. Then, after a Httle
cogitation over this enlightened and doubtless accom-
plished person, and speculations as to his occupation and
appearance, her thoughts reverted to Mr. Oldmixon, and
especially to what he had told her relative to his two
nephews. She could not help feeling an interest in them,
for had she not decided their fate ? How strange it was
that she should have been thus powerful in determining
a question of such vast importance as the one Mr. Old-
mixon had submitted to her, and one that concerned so
nearly two men that she had yet never seen, and until a
few days since had never even heard of ! She hoped
she had done right. And yet, situated as she was, with
scarcely a probability that she would even become ac-
quainted with either one of the brothers, she felt that,
in regard to this point, there would always be some doubt
in her mind. One had, through her, been reduced from
a position of wealth to what she had understood from
Mr. Oldmixon was one of destitution. He had been the
favored one, and had been brought up in luxury, with*
all his wants supplied as soon as they were formed, and
with expectations of succeeding, in the course of nature,
to a large fortune. What would be his feelings toward
her, she thought, if he knew of the agency she had had
in reducing him to a penniless condition ? She had been
told that he was bad past belief, but there must be some
good in him. Everybody had that. Even Satan, as de-
scribed by Milton, was brave and free from sycophancy.

152 MB. OLDMIXON.

There must be something in this yonng man that should
have plead with her for a less condign punishment than
that of taking all from him. He too might be brave and
free from servility ; and if so, was not his punishment too
great ?

And as to the other : was it quite certain that he was
as worthy as his nncle, with his heart embittered against
the one whom he supposed had injured him, thought
him to be ? Assuredly, there had not been that frame of
mind present in Mr. Oldmixon that it was desirable should
exist when a matter so important as the one in question
was to be decided. If this new favorite were so good
and noble as his uncle now represented him to be, why
had he been neglected for all these years, and his unworthy
brother exalted over him ? Mr. Oldmixon, though cer-
tainly eccentric, was, as she plainly saw, no fool. Was it
within the limits of possibility that, knowing these two as
well as he did, he would have shamefully oppressed the
one, and, with an equal disregard of justice, have exalted
the other above his merits during a dozen years, and then
only have been prompted by an unforeseen occurrence to
act righteously ? It was hard for her to believe this, and
yet she did believe it. There had been something that
she could not quite understand about Mr. Oldmixon's
manner that had carried conviction with it. Perhaps it
was his earnestness, perhaps his unconscious nervousness,
perhaps something in the expression of his countenance
that he had not intended should appear, but that, never-
theless, told her he was speaking the truth. No, he had
not lied. He might be insane — of that she was not alto-
gether sure— but he had been honest with her. Was a
lunatic, she asked herself, necessarily a liar or always in-
capable of perceiving matters correctly ?

BABBABA WOEKS AND THINKS. 153

Then suddenly an idea occurred to her that filled her
with delight, and which, if it could be carried out, would,
she believed, lead to a satisfactory settlement of the whole
affair, so far as the money involved was concerned. It
was this : If the elder brother were the good and mag-
nanimous man that his uncle represented him to be, he
would very willingly divide with the unfortunate one,
who had so suddenly, and without any special fault of his
own, so far as she could see, fallen from grace. It might
safely be left in his hands with the confidence that he
would act justly and kindly. She was afraid that she was
prevented by her implied promise from revealing to him
any part of the story told her by Mr. Oldmixon so long
as he Hved. Well, there would be no occasion for her to
open her mouth now. He had not yet come into posses-
sion of the estate. When it was his, she could speak, and
doubtless he would heed what she said, and do what was
right.

" There, father," she said, after all this and much more
to a like effect had passed through her mind, ^^I have
done the best I could with the apteryx."

*' Why, Miss Barbara," said Peter, who at that moment
entered the workshop from the office, '* you've made that
bird so beautiful that if he could see out of those glass
eyes, and look at himself in the glass, he wouldn't know
himself.'^

*'Do you think so, Peter ?" replied Barbara, smiling.
^' If you are right, the best thing I can do is to remount
the wretch. If one apteryx doesn't know another apteryx
when he sees him, something is wrong with one of them.
Either the apteryx that looks is incapable of seeing things
properly, or the apteryx that is looked at is not as he
should be. Now, if this apteryx were to be endowed with

7»

154 MB. OLDMIXON.

the sense of sight, and were to be incapable of recogniz-
ing his own image in a glass — "

" O Miss Barbara, you are laughing at me !" ex-
claimed Peter ; '' you always make fun of me when I pay
a compliment to your work. What I meant was, that that
is the most beautifully mounted apteryx that was ever
set up in New York. I saw one the other day that had
been mounted in Paris, and it wouldn't compare with this.
The eyes were as big as a ten-cent piece, while you have
made these almost as small as the head of a pin. That's
the way they ought to be. 1 heard Professor Laird say
so, and this apteryx looks as if he was just about to pick
up a worm."

*' Well, Peter, worms are what they feed on. I tried
to make him appear to be viewing with a critical eye a
worm, as though he might be trying to decide whether or
not it was sufficiently inviting to warrant him in making
the necessary exertion for seizing it."

'' And you've hit it exactly. He's got his head turned
a little to one side, and his right eye is studying that
worm with great deliberation. What life you do put into
all your work. Miss Barbara !"

The idea flashed through Peter's mind, that with her
as his wife he could keep up the reputation of the place.
He had thought before of the advantages of marrying
Barbara, but he was rather inclined to be dull, and her
skill and knowledge as a taxidermist had not previously
entered into his calculations. Now, however, he saw how
doubly desirable it was to get her for a wife.

''I'm glad you admire the mounting," she said,
after giving the least possible touch to one of the legs
of the bird. ''It won't be many years before, like
the dodo, the apteryx will become extinct. Then we

BAEBARA W0EK8 AND THINKS. 155

shall value these mounted specimens more than we do
now."

" I almost forgot what 1 came for," resumed Peter,
with a laugh, having settled the matrimonial idea to his
satisfaction. " The gentleman is here for his silver fox,
which he said was promised for to-day. I didn't like to
tell him that it wasn't done, for he seems so anxious to
get it."

" Oh, has he come !" exclaimed Barbara ; 'Til see
him about it."

She was not vain, but she was a very woman, so she
gave a little glance into the old mirror, just so as to con-
vince herself that there was nothing radically wrong about
her appearance — no unbecoming disarrangement of her
hair or of the pretty dark blue ribbon that she wore at
her throat — and then she passed into the front room.

She saw before her a tall, handsome, well-dressed man,
with a face that had an evident unfamiliarity with the
razor, for it was covered with the beard over the whole
surface upon which nature intended it to grow, and
who had, what she was quick to recognize, although
not a fashionable young woman, the unmistakable air
of a gentleman. That was about as much as she could
ascertain from the rapid glance only that she could
then give.

He was standing with his hat on, but on her entrance
he took it oflP at once, and made her a slight bow. This im-
pressed her favorably, for very few of the men that came
there, whether they pretended to be gentlemen or not,
took off their hats in her presence, or smiled so graciously
as did this visitor.

'' I have come for my silver fox," he said, still smiling,
and lookiug at Barbara with an expression of respectful

156 MB. OLDMIXON,

admiration, that she was not slow to observe. " It was to
be done to-day, I believe. "

^' Yes," she answered ; *^ father promised to have it fin-
ished to-day, but we have been unable to get it ready, ow-
ing to the want of certain information that we thought
might enable us to do a better piece of work than if we
went at it ignorantly."

" Then you arej Miss Henschel !" he said, a still more
pleased expression passing over his face. " I have often
heard of you as taking such a great artistic interest in yonr
work. In fact, it was my friend Professor Laird, of the
Smithsonian Institution, who told me to come to you with
my fox. He said you were the only person in the coun-
try that could set it up as a work of art — the art that in-
terprets nature correctly."

*^ Professor Laird is a good friend of ours, and is
very kind." She was dying to know who this gentleman
was who talked of art, and whose prepossessions were so
greatly iu her favor ; but she thought it would never do
to ask the question directly. Doubtless she would find
out before he left. *^ I am very willing. Miss Henschel,
to give you any information that will enable you to mount
my fox in the most artistic manner. It is such a beauti-
ful specimen of a rare animal, that I want the most made
of it that is possible. You see, I'm an artist myself."

An artist ! She might have known it, she thought,
for who but an artist would talk as he had talked about
*' artistic interest" and " art interpreting nature !" The
people generally that came there, except, of course, the
scientific ones, were such commonplace beings ! This
one was very different.

*' I should like to know how you caught it ?"

^' After two weeks of incessant labor and vigilance, in

BARBARA WORKS AND THINKS. 157

which the fox's wits were pitted against mine, and in
which he always won till the last night, I succeeded in
catching him in a trap."

*'I'm glad you did not poison it. 1 knew you had
not shot it, for there were no holes in the skin, and 1
thought the silver fox was too cunning to be caught in
traps."

'' I did not like to poison him, but 1 wanted his skin
very badly, and I think if 1 had not caught him at last, I
should have been mean enough to poison him. You
would not have liked that, would you ?"

''No," answered Barbara, frankly ; ''I have a horror
of poison. I might excuse its use against savage animals
that we might wish to kill for our protection, but as a
means of destroying them for their skins, I wouldn't use
it."

*' Hunters have not your nice discrimination," said the
gentleman. '' They are making their living by getting
skins — and a hard living it is, too — and they are not likely
to stand on ceremony with the animal that has a skin they
want. However, I am happy to say that to some extent
I share your feelings. Miss Henschel ; and, at any rate, this
fox was not poisoned. 1 suppose I could have had him
a great deal sooner if I had put some strychnine in a piece
of dried beef and laid it on the snow near some one of
his haunts, but 1 could not quite make up my mind to
treat him so treacherously. Besides, he had a reputation
for knowing poisoned meat."

' ' That was right 1 ' ' said Barbara, emphatically. ' ' Now,
please tell me exactly how you caught him, because I
propose to mount him in as nearly as possible the attitude
he took just before he was captured."

'' You must know. Miss Henschel, that the cold at Fort

168 MB. OLDMIXON.

Eesolution— where I was staying with a friend— is, dar-
ing the winter months, so intense that for weeks together
the mercury is frozen in the thermometer bulbs. I liked
it, however, and when well protected the sensation on
going out in the morning is deUghtful. The effect on
the circulation of a man — ^he has to be a strong one,
though — is not unlike that of a glass or two of cham-
pagne.

*^ I wanted a silver fox, and I determined to get one.
The animal is becoming scarcer every year, and wiU soon
be extinct ; and that made me all the more anxious to
succeed."

^' Won't you walk into the next room ?" interrupted
Barbara, perceiving that the story would take some little
time to tell. '^ It is our workshop, and, though I shall
not show you your fox — I don't want you to see him till
he is finished — ^you will be less likely to be interrupted
there."

'^ I regard this as a great compliment. Miss Henschel,"
he continued, sitting down in a big Shaker rocking-chair
that Barbara pushed toward him, while she sat on a stool
in front of her work-bench. ^ ^ This is your studio, ' ' look-
ing around him as he spoke. ^' Ah, here are many of
your works ! An apteryx I I could swear that fellow
is alive I He looks exactly like one that 1 saw in the
Jardin des Plantes picking up worms that had been put
into a mass of earth for his delectation. You know — of
course you do, or you would never have put such an ex-
pression into his right eye and his head — that he is a very
dainty bird, and the worm must be a first-class one, or else
he will not eat it. This particular apteryx looks as though
he was working every bit of brain he has in the effort to
determine whether or not he shall gobble up the worm

BARBARA WORKS AND THINKS. 159

that 18 lying on the ground before him. There must be
a worm there," he continued, getting up and pretending
to look for one on the imitation moss on which the speci-
men stood. ^' No, there is none. It has probably crawled
away while Master Apteryx was delibertiting."

Barbara laughed. '^ 1 didn't think 1 could make much
of the apteryx," she said ; ^^ it has no wings, or at least
only little stumps, and no tail, either."

'^ But you have done all with it that was possible. The
truest artist is the one that makes the most of his subject,
without passing the limits of truth ; and this you have
done."

*^ Thanks ; you are very kind to say all that. I'd
rather please an artist than a king."

" Who told you I was an artist ?"

^^ You did just now."

^' Did I ? I had forgotten. I ought to have told you
my name too, oughtn't I ?" Then, without waiting for
an answer, he handed her a visiting card.

"I don't suppose you have ever heard of me," he
went on ; '^ but as we are likely to have sundry confer-
ences about that silver fox that you are going to mount
so artistically forme, you should know what to call me."

Barbara took the little piece of pasteboard and read :

Mr. John Oldm^xon^

The Vandyke,

61 West —th street.

CHAPTER XI.

JACK AND HIS FOX.

Barbara was overwhelmed with astonishment to find
that her visitor was no less a person than that nephew of
Mr. Oldmixon that had been so badly treated, and that
now, after years of neglect, had come, or was about to
come, through her decision, more than ever into his un-
cle's favor. Surely, he must see the look of surprise on her
countenance, and wonder why the announcement of his
name had caused so great a degree of facial disturbance.
She dreaded to look, but yet, like a bird drawn irre-
sistibly into the snake's jaws, she felt that she must look.
She raised her eyes. No ; he had not observed her. He
was studying the apteryx.

^^ Ah, young man !" she thought to herself, '^ little do
you know what I've done for you. I'm glad I did it.
1 like him. I'm sure he's ever so much better than the
other. He isn't a bit like his uncle. No wonder he said
this one didn't look like an Oldmixon, and had none of
their bad traits. "

^' Now, Mr. Oldmixon," she said, " won't you tell me
something more about the silver fox ?"

" Oh, yes ! I was so busy looking around at your
work, that I forgot all about the fox. Well, I used to go
out every morning with my gun, looking for a silver fox,
and one very cold day, and when the snow was falling, I
saw the track of one in the new snow. Of course I fol-

jack: and his fox. 161

lowed it. It led me several miles to a thick pine forest,
and here 1 lost it. I went home, got my trap, and at once
started out to set it before night. I placed it, nicely
baited, just at the edge of the wood, and then started for
the fort, which I did not reach, however, till long after
dark.

" The next morning, early, I was off to inspect my trap.
"What was my surprise to find that the fox had been
there, and had taken the bait without disturbing the
underpinning of the fall, and had thus gotten off. 1
knew it was the fox, for I saw his tracks around the spot.
I made use of some words very derogatory to my good
sense in not fastening the bait more sectirely; and then I
set the trap again.

" When 1 got home and told my story at dinner, I
was greeted with a hearty laugh by the assembled wisdom
at the table. Somers, my friend, was particularly dis-
posed to make fun of me. ^You've got hold of ^^old
Machiavelli," ^ he said, 'and you've tried to catch him
by putting salt on his tail. That's what it amounts to.
Why, my dear fellow, every man, woman, and child at
Fort Eesolution has made an attempt to catch '^ old Mach-
iavelli " ; but he roams the forest and the plain, as sound
in mind and body as he was three years ago, when we
first made his acquaintance.'

*' ' Has anybody ever seen him ? ' I ventured to 'ask,
with all due humility.

^' At this every one burst into a loud laugh.

^' ' Seen him ! ' shouted Somers—' seen old Machia-
velli ! Do you take him for a fool, that he'd let any
one see him ? '

'' ' I don't know what he is,' I answered, somewhat
put out by the manner in which I was treated ; ' he

162 MB. OLDMLXON.

may be the devil, for all I know. Probably he is, as you
seem to know so much about him.'

" ' My dear Oldmixon,' said Somers, still laughing,
' " old Machiavelli" is the name given to a silver fox that
is the cnnningest of all his kind. He first made this
region his dwelling-place about three years ago. Where
he came from no one knows, but he was full-grown in
mind and body when he arrived. No one has ever laid
eyes on him, but by his tracks he is known to be a very
large animal. I say no one has ever seen him, but that
may be an error. Kashacogno, an Indian buck, declares
he saw him one evening, just as the sun was going down,
and that he was as large as a wolf ; but as Kashacogno
had been drinking of fire-water pretty heavily that after-
noon, his testimony is to be taken with some grains of al-
lowance.

'' ' Then we tried to capture him, dead or alive. Traps
of all kinds were made use of ; but if they were very deli-
cately set, he would either not go near them, or would
manage to knock the arrangement down and to drag out
the bait at his leisure. K they were coarsely set, as yours
was last m'ght, he would go in and deliberately take oflE
the bait, without bringing down the trap. Then strych-
nine was tried, but never once would he eat a piece of
poisoned meat. He'd turn it over and over, and once
carried a piece a mile away from the place where it was
laid ; but then he had dropped it, having apparently, in
some way or other, discovered that it was poisoned. '

«^ i "Why didn't you watch the traps and shoot him ? '
I inquired.

'' ' "We watched the traps day after day and night after
night, but never once did he make his appearance. He
has the keenest eyesight and hearing and the best brain

JACK AND HIS FOX. 163

of any fox that ever lived in these parts. Finally we
gave up trying to catch him, and named him " old Mach-
iavelli," as a compliment to his astuteness.'

" All this sank deeply into my heart, and I resolved
that I would have that fox, if I had to devote a whole
winter to the work of capturing him. I set a trap, and
finding that he gnawed away the string with which the
bait was fastened so delicately that he did not disturb
the underpinning, I fastened the meat with wire, so that
he. would have to make more disturbance than if a piece
of deer-skin or a cord was used ; but then he would not
touch it. I tried this several times, and always with the
same result. Once I saw him. 1 had set my trap, and
had retired to a clump of underbrush about a hundred
yards to leeward, and then secreting myself, resolved to
wait there, if I had to stay till dark. I waited, and not
only till dark, but far into the night. Fortunately, there
was a full moon, and this, with the bright stars and a
wonderful aurora, that lit up the sky and the snow, made
it almost as light as day. I sat on a log and watched
my trap ; but I was hungry, and it was after nine o'clock,
and I had at least five miles to go to reach Fort Resolu-
tion. I was just getting ready to go home when I
thought 1 saw something moving stealthily toward the
trap. The night was cold and the light wind was blow-
ing from the trap toward me, so that I knew the animal,
whatever it was, could not detect me by the scent. I
rose to my feet, and strained my eyes to their utmost.
Yes, it was ^ old Machiavelli ' undoubtedly — ^the biggest
silver fox I had ever seen, and with head thrust forward
and ears erect, moving slowly toward the trap. I could
have killed him with my rifle, perhaps, but 1 had vowed
to catch him with a whole skin, so I would not fire.

164 MB. OLDMIXON.

though strongly tempted to do so. So slowly that I
could barely see that he moved, he approached the trap,
to a distance, as nearly as 1 could judge, of three feet from
it, and there he stood, surveying it, and doubtless bring-
ing to bear upon it all the acumen with which a wise
Providence had endowed him."

Barbara had been deeply absorbed tliroughout the
whole of Jack's recital ; but as he told her how the fox
had stood and looked at the trap, her interest became still
greater. She left the bench on which she was sitting,
and going to a corner of the room, stood there before
something that was on a table, and at which she began to
busy her delicately formed fingers.

'' Now, Mr. Oldmixon," she said, " don't look at me,
please. No," as Jack turned his face toward her, '' you
must look the other way. Yes, that will do," as he
wheeled round his chair, so that the back was toward her.
" Now, tell me just exactly how the fox stood and
looked at that trap."

^' Well," said Jack, obediently — ^he rather liked being
ordered about by Barbara, and he must paint her if he
died for it — ^^ he stood as motionless as a statue, his head
projected forward — "

^^ Tes," interrupted Barbara, pulling the head of the
silver fox first one way and then the other, while she
slowly repeated his words, ^' his head projected forward. "

^' In a straight line with the rest of his body," con-
tinued Jack.

^^ Yes," as she worked deftly at the specimen.

^^ His ears thrown in the same direction so strongly
that they were almost on a line with the top of his head. "

^* Ears almost on a line with the top of his head — wait
a moment, Mr. Oldmixon, please."

JACK AND HIS FOX. 165

" O Miss Henschel !" exclaimed Jack, who up to this
time appeared to have been under the impression that she
was writing out his description for future use, " are you
mounting my fox now T

" You mustn't ask any questions, and you mustn't look.
K you do either, you will break the charm."

^* I'll do just as you say."

'' Now," said Barbara, after she had moulded the ears
into the position in which she wanted them, and had
stuffed them with a little cotton wool, *^ go on, please."

^' His left foot raised from the ground in the attitude
that a pointer takes when he comes on a covey of part-
ridges, and his brush as straight a continuation of the
line of his spine as though it had been laid out with rule
and compass."

Barbara worked on in silence for a minute or two, and
then,

^' What was that you said about something being on a
line with his spine ?"

" I said his brush was — "

^^ His brush ! Oh, yes, 1 know now. You are giv-
ing it the huntsman's designation. We taxidermists call
it a tail. "

Jack laughed at this, and then Barbara laughed, going
on with her work, all the time sponging the skin, so as
to moisten it, and then moulding it with her hands into the
shape she wanted. Finally she appeared to have fin-
ished. She looked at her work from several points of
view, giving it a few touches here and there, and then
covering it with a cloth, washed her hands. ^' Now,
Mr. Oldmixon," she said, ^' was the fox, as he was look-
ing at the trap, anything like this ?"

He came toward where she was standing, and she raised

166 ME. OLDMIXON.

the cloth, reveah'ng to him his fox in the attitude of at-
tention and inquiry that he had described. He was
delighted.

^^ I have never seen anything in the way of taxidermy
as good as this," he said, while his face expressed the
pleasure and astonishment he felt. ^^ You have got the
position of the animal exactly as I saw it, and you have
done it with a degree of ease and celerity that I could
not have believed possible. Ton did not acquire your
art. Miss Henschel. It was bom in you. No wonder
everybody praises your work, when you turn out such
specimens of it as this."

*^ I am glad you like it. I felt the impulse to do it
while you were describing the scene to me. One can
work so much better when the inspiration is present than
when one has to work because one must."

*^ Yes, I feel the truth of that constantly. I think,
when I complete a picture that I am under an engage-
ment to paint for Mr. Yan der Linden, I shall do no
more work to order. You ought to model in clay. Miss
Henschel ; that is your vocation."

'' Do you think so ?"

'^ I know it. You are a genius. You will never get
credit for your artistic inspiration while you confine your
work, beautiful as it is, to mounting animals. You
should attempt the human form. You should become a
sculptor, and, my word for it, ere many years have
passed you will make the world ring with your praises."

She was silent, but his words fell on willing ears — ears
that were much more ready to hear than they were when
her father had said almost the same things to her only a
few days previously. For, in the mean time, she had
thought much of what the old man had said, and the spirit

JACK AND HIS FOX. 167

of ambition was beginning to be developed within her.
And now an artist — one who must be distinguished, for
he was painting a picture for the rich Mr. Van der Lin-
den, who had the grand gallery that she had already vis-
ited twice on days on which he threw it open to the pub-
lic — ^had praised her work. Her revery was broken in
upon by Jack.

" Will you allow me to take this home with me now,
Miss Henschel ? I have a few friends coming to visit
me to-night, and 1 should be delighted to show it to
them."

^^ But it is not quite finished. It is to have a board
yet to stand on — a board covered with artificial snow."

'' I'll get the board and the artificial snow. PU also
have a trap made and placed right in front of him, and
then I shall have the scene before me in all its exactness,
whenever I look at it."

" But it is wet ; it will take several hours yet for it
to dry."

'^ I'll carry it with the utmost care. I'll get a cab
from a livery stable around the comer, and that will
insure ray getting it home in safety."

" Well," said Barbara, laughing, ^^ if you want it so
badly as all that, I suppose you can take it."

'* Thanks ! I'm ever so much obliged to you. Now,
I'll get a carriage, and then I'll rid you of the fox and
myself at the same time."

He went out, but was back before Barbara had had
time to tell much of the incident to her father, who had
in the mean time returned from a visit he had been mak-
ing to the American Museum of Natural History.

Jack had met Mr. Henschel before, and he was glad
tosneet him again, in order, to discharge with more ease

168 MB. OLDMIXON.

to himself an important duty that still remained to be
performed, and that was, paying for the mounting of his
specimen of the silver fox. It would have been un-
pleasant to him, after his conversation with Barbara and
his references to ^^high art," and, above all, after the
impression that her beauty and sweetness had made on
him, to spoil all by tendering her the fifty dollars he had
agreed to give for the work. It would have caused a jar
to his feelings to have them mixed up with a pecuniary
transaction. But with Mr. Henschel no such delicacy
would be experienced, so he opened his pocketbook, and
placed five crisp ten-dollar notes in the old man's hand,
much to the latter 's satisfaction, for he loved money as
fondly as do most people, whether they be rich or poor,
grand or humble.

While Mr. Henschel went into the office to make out
a bill and receipt. Jack thought it a good chance to give
expression to an idea that had occurred to him with more
or less distinctness soon after he first saw Barbara, and
that had now become perfected to his satisfaction.

^^1 told you. Miss Henschel," he said, ^'that I had
accepted an order from Mr. Van der Linden for a picture.
He has very intelligently left the subject to me, and I
think I have at last settled upon one that I may be able
to develop into something ; but I want your assistance."

'^ My assistance, Mr. Oldmixon !" exclaimed Barbara.

*' Yes, yours ;" and his voice became lower and more
earnest. '^ I have been in doubt in regard to my ability
to carry out the conception, for 1 lack imagination ; but
since I have seen you I am reassured. Miss Henschel,
1 want you to sit for the principal figure in my compo-
sition."

Barbara was frankness itself, and altogether free from

JACK AND HI8 POX 169

that species of vanity that causes some people to seem to
avoid or to refuse what they are especially anxious to
receive or grant. She answered at once, '^ I should be
very glad to do so, Mr. Oldraixon, but I am afraid I
have no time, and besides," she added, ^' I have no one
to go with me to your studio."

^' Oh, I shall not ask you to put yourself to such an
inconvenience ! Although 1 am deficient in imagination,
I have a wonderful memory. All I ask is, that you will
allow me to come here for an hour every day for a week,
and look at you, and perhaps I may ask you to let me
set up my easel here for a few days.' '

" 1 don't think there would be the least objection to
that, but I will ask father. What is the subject that you
have determined upon, Mr. Oldmixon ?"

" I had determined to paint Queen Alfgive pleading
with her husband. King Knut, for the life of an Anglo-
Saxon earl who would not give his allegiance to the
Danes ; but I have, since I came here, given that up. I
shall now, if you let me, paint ^ The Taxidermists ' —
you and your father at work in this room."

*^ But, Mr. Oldmixon, the other is a much more noble
subject, 1 should think. "

*^ I don't know anything about its nobility, and I don't
know anything, either, about Queen Alfgive or King
Knut or the Anglo-Saxon earl — the subject came into
my mind at dinner a night or two ago — but this place
1 know, and you and your father I know. You are flesh
and blood of our own day ; and if I do not mistake Mr.
Van der Linden, he would infinitely prefer this subject to
the other. What does he care about Danish kings and
queens and Anglo-Saxon earls ? All those historical sub-
jects run in one rut. 1 should look through some illu-
8

i

170 MB. OLDMIXOH".

minated mannscripts to get the costnmes and architect-
nre, and then I should place the king on his throne, and
the earl held by two soldiers, and the queen on her knees
supplicating her lord, and that would be all. But here I
should have your father, with his fine old face, and you,
with your — ^your — ^looking, you know, at a bird or some-
thing, and the silver gray fox — ^yes, working at the silver
gray fox, with other animals standing around, just as they
are here. Oh, I could make a glorious picture of all
that I"

He spoke with an enthusiasm that delighted Barbara,
and she looked at him with undisguised admiration.
Here was an artist — one who felt all that he expressed,
and one, moreover, who had received an inspiration from
her and her associations. All this was very pleasant to
her, for nothing so rouses the sympathy of a woman as
to discover that she is a power and exerting an influence
over some one she likes or, still more, loves. Of course
Barbara did not love Jack Oldmixon. She was not a
woman, sensitive though she was, to lose her heart on a
first acquaintance. She could very readily have dis-
pensed with his society from that time on to the end of
her days, without experiencing more than a transient re-
gret that one who was agreeable to her had passed out
of her life. But he was interesting, and there was not
so much variety in her existence that she could view
with indifference the advent of a handsome, intelligent,
sympathizing, and, above all, art-loving young man like
Jack into the course of her life, without there being
more or less emotional disturbance of a pleasant charac-
ter. This proposition of his, to make her and her father
the subject of his picture, was one, however, to which she
was not able to give her consent without the concurrence

JACK AND HIS FOX. 171

of her father ; but she did not anticipate any difficulty
on that score. He generally allowed her to have her
own way, for her way was a good one, and no one knew
it better than Mr. Henschel.

Jack intuitively divined what was passing in her mind.
*^ Of course," he said, ^^I shall ask your father's con-
sent. I only wanted to get yours first, for if it is not
agreeable to you, that's the end of it. I hope you ap-
prove. Miss Henschel ?"

'' If the subject is one that you think you could make
interesting, you are at ps*rfect liberty to paint it, so far
as I am concerned. 1 don't think my father will object.
He is very proud of his art, and so am I."

^^ Well, here he is, and 1 will ask him now."

Jack then laid the subject before Mr. Henschel, and
was happy to find that the old man entered with great
enthusiasm into the idea. That he should see his Bar-
bara in a picture that would probably become famous —
one that, at any rate, would hang in a famous collection,
and be seen by many people, was a thought that gave
him great satisfaction. He had a very keen appreciation
of his daughter's peculiar style of beauty, and when he
encountered a person that saw it as he saw it, his heart
expanded with that phase of self-complacency that most
of us feel when others approve of our thoughts or acts.
It did not take long to arrange the matter, so it was set-
tled that Jack should begin the next day by bringing his
easel and all his other paraphernalia to the shop, and that
he should then study the interior, so as to form a clear
conception of what he wanted. " I shall not be sur-
prised," he said, 'Mf I shall have to spend the first two
or three days in making up my mind how to arrange you,
80 as to get the best effect. Yes," looking around as he

172 ME, OLDMIXON.

spoke, *' I shall have to change your position, Miss Hen*
schel, so as to get you more in the light of that window.
However, we'll arrange all that to-morrow. Good -by,"
he continued, holding out his hand, and smiling, while
in the other he held his silver fox. ^' I shall brino:
this back to-morrow, and place it where it will be well
seen in my picture. I am greatly obliged to you. Miss
Henschel. I hope I have not stayed too long, and tired
you out with my loquacity ; but the time was passing so
pleasantly that 1 forgot myself."

*^But," said Barbara, laughing, ^'you have not yet
told me how you caught the silver fox."

*' No ; and therefore there is another reason why I
should return. It's a very interesting story. Miss Hen-
schel. Again, good-by !"

His carriage was at the door, and entering it, he was
driven away in the direction of his residence. But he
had not gone more than a block when, putting his head
out of the window, he called to the driver.

''Go to No. 73 Lake Street," he said ; " 1 like com-
parisons," he continued to himself. " I'll take a look
at that other girl who is a taxidermist, and who Sliven
told me was so expert at the art as to have no rival in
this or any other country. I'll see if it's taxidermy that
makes angels out of women." In a few minutes the
carriage stopped in front of a respectable-looking house,
and Jack got out. On the door was a sign, " Thomas
Bangs & Co., Taxidermists." In a large bay-window
were several specimens of the taxidermist's art. A bell
on a spring rang as he opened the door, and then he
found himself in an apartment the walls of which
were lined with cases containing stuffed animals of vari-
ous kinds. From an inner room, doubtless brought out

JACK Al^D HIS FOX. 173

by the sound of the bell, came a yotmg woman dressed
in tawdry finery, a heavy gold chain — or of what looked
like gold — around her neck, her hair frizzled all over her
head, and her face and hands showing evident marks
of unfamiliarity with soap and water. He looked spe-
cially at her hands. He had observed that Barbara,
after completing the mounting of his silver fox, had
washed her hands before joining him again. This girl's
were dirty, and her nails were uncared for. He had
seen enough, but he thought a little further exploration
would be gratifying.

" Is Mr. Bangs in ?" he inquired.

" No, he ain't in ; but if you want to see him on busi-
ness, I guess I can attend to it."

** 1 have a wolverine that 1 would like to have
mounted."

^^ A what?"

*^A wolverine — one that I captured in Canada last
winter, and that I would like to have mounted. I will
send the skin and the skull to you to-morrow."

The girl seemed confused. She was not a bad-look-
ing girl, or rather she would not have been bad-looking
had she been clean and kempt. She had a bright pair of
eyes, a good mouth and teeth, a naturally clear com-
plexion, and by the great majority of people — ^men
or women — would have been considered a far more
beautiful girl than was Barbara Henschel. Soap and
water and care, of which Barbara had no stint, would
have made this girl still more attractive, and not one in
a hundred would have passed her by for the red-haired
^irl, with the glorious smile, whose beauty required to
be looked for and thought of in order to be recognized.

Then, undeniably, this girl was ignorant. She did

*

» .^^.

174 MB. OLDMIXON.

not know what a wolverine was, and her speech was like
that of a New York shop girl of the lowest grade.

" Pa's not in, as I said," she observed, after she had
apparently made up her mind in regard to the kind of
animal under consideration, '' but we can do it, 1 guess.
We've stuflEed a good many wolves in our time. I'm
Miss Bangs, and I do the finishing. Them wolves re-
quires a good deal of life to be put into them. I done
one for Mr. Jacobs, in Fifth Avenue, and he said it was
just splendid."

^* But the wolverine is not a woK. It is altogether a
different kind of an animal. It's sometimes called the
glutton, and it is the pest of the hunters in the north,
for it steals the bait out of their traps."

** I guess there's a picture of it in ^ The Quadrupeds
of North America.' I'll mount it after that pattern, if
there is one. Stop a minute ! We ain't got that book,
but when we want to use it I go over to the Astor
Library, and I copy the pictures we want on a piece of
tracing paper. But there's a ^Webster's Unabridged'
here, and I'll look it up if you'll wait a little."

She took down the large quarto volume, and began to
turn over the leaves. After she had done so, much to
Jack's amusement, for several minutes, she exclaimed :

*'No, it ain't here. You never can find the thing
you want in them dictionaries."

" Let me look, please," said Jack. She handed him
the book.

'' Here's ^ wolf,' " she said, " and — oh, yes, here it is
in the next column, and I never seen it ! And a pict-
ure of it, too! We might set yours up just like that."

Jack had seen and heard enough.

'' I'U send you the skin and skull to-morrow, Miss

f

\

»*

((
a

JACK AND HIS POX. 175

Bangs," he said, " and yon can mount it in your own
way. Doubtless," he added — Jack was always polite —

you will succeed admirably."

Oh, we never make no failures I Do you want a
glass case for it ?"

^^ No, I have not yet made up my mind what to do
with it."

" Name J please."

" John Oldmixon," giving her his card as he spoke.

" We generally require a deposit, unless the skin's
valuable."

*^ Well, as this skin isn't worth much, I come under
the rule. How much shall I leave you ?"

" It will cost eight dollars to mount it. I guess five
dollars will do. You can send the money down with
the skin."

''No, I'll leave it now. It will save trouble to do
so."

He laid a five-dollar note on the counter, took the
receipt she handed him, and with a bow left the house.

" That girl's a tradeswoman — a shop girl," he said,
as he got into the carriage. '' The other one's a lady
and an artist. Dress the Bangs girl up, and she'd stand
a good chance of getting the prize for beauty at a dime
museum or an agricultural fair, while the other requires
a gentleman and an artist to see her beauty. The one
scarcely varied the expression of her countenance the
whole time she was talking ; the other's face is a study ;
it changes with every thought she conceives and every
emotion she feels, and when she smiles — well, I never
saw anything like her smile, and I haven't been blind
to female beauty, either. Two taxidermists I They're
as different as night and day. The one practises it as a

176 MB. OLDMIXON.

trade, the other studies it as an art. The one is a
coarse, ignorant, vulgar woman, with no soul above the
shop ; the other's an angel."

And with this conclusion, the final word of which
seemed to him to embody in its meaning all the virtues
and perfections that are ever bestowed on womankind.
Jack's thoughts became less cohercDt, though they were
still concerned with Barbara Henschel.

'^.

CHAPTER Xn.

A PAIR OF DOCTORS.

Mr. Oldmixon was so overcome by the nefarionsness
of Mr. Partridge in putting currant jelly on canvas-back
duck, and by the excitement that had been developed,
followed as it was by a severe degree of reaction, that
he was not able to leave his room for several days.
Jack saw him every morning for half an hour or so, but
his uncle was at no time in a fit condition to disclose his
intentions relative to his nephew's future life that he
had incorporated into his will. Finally, it was deemed
advisable to call in a physician. The gentleman came,
asked a few questions, felt his patient's pulse, looked at
his tongue, listened at his chest.

*^ Weak heart," he said under his breath. Then to
the patient : " My dear sir, it appears to me that you have
received a severe shock of some kind. Your nervous
system is all unstrung, and your heart feels it very evi-
dently. Am 1 correct in my smpicions ?' '

" Two shocks, doctor," said Mr. Oldmixon, feebly

— '^two, one after the other, and both severe. The

nature of the first I prefer not to communicate to you ;

but the second is the result of a man— a fellow that I

took to be a gentleman, and that I invited to my table

— an aesthetic table — at which all the appointments, from

the salt-cellars to the guests, were in keeping, and of

which the menu was the result of days of anxious study.
^ 8*

178 MB. OLDMIXOK.

The ducks — canvas-backs — were cooked according to the
principles of physical and gastronomic science. There
was one apiece, and the rich, fragrant, crimson-streaked
juice flowed gently from their pectoral muscles when the
knives — silver-plated — coursed through them like the
sharp-cut bow of a gondola through the bosom of the
' Adriatic."

Mr. Oldmixon stopped to take breath, and the doctor,
not quite sure, perhaps, that the metaphor was correct,
and that his patient might not be the subject of a little
mental confusion, looked as much surprised as his ex-
pressionless face permitted. Certainly the prelude to
Mr. Oldmixon 's account of his shock was altogether dif-
ferent from any that he had ever heard before, and he
could not imagine to what it tended. He was not a
club-man, or one accustomed to good dinners, and hence
his patient's language was almost unintelligible.
• ''Well, doctor, would you believe it," resumed Mi.
Oldmixon — after having mixed the yolk of an egg with
a glass of sherry and swallowed the compound — '^ one
of my guests, a man who, as I have just said, I thought
was a gentleman — one who, at any rate, if he did have
depraved tastes, would not seek to gratify them at my
table — this man having cut oflE a slice of duck that would
have tempted the Pope in the middle of Lent, orders
some currant jelly to be brought to him — ^he wouldn't
have got it in my house, and 1 think I shall resign from
the Lucullus for keeping such a vile mixture — and hav-
ing got it, deliberately spreads it over the luscious-look-
ing morsel that lay on his plate waiting for proper ap-
preciation, as if he was lathering his nasty face with soap-
suds, and then proceeds to eat the horrid mdange. P
restrained myself as well as I could — being at my owq

A PAIR OF DOCTORS. 179

table — but the ejffort was a task such as I have never
performed before, and was, as you see, sufficient to
precipitate me into this dreadful state.

' If I had a thunderbolt in my eye,
I can teU who shonld down ;
It wonld be that wretch.* **

*^Tou don't mean to say," said Dr. Jimnay, who
probably had never eaten canvas-back duck in his life,
with or without jelly, ^' that the state in which 1 find
you has been induced by one of your friends putting
currant jelly on duck !"

^* Canvas-back, doctor ! Jelly is good enough on a
barnyard duck, for you want something to give it a
flavor ; but on a canvas-back ! O Lord, the very
thought makes me faint !" Then calling to Jack, he
whispered to him, ^* Pay that man his fee and send
him off. He's not a gentleman ; he doesn't know a can-
vas-back from a scoot, whose flesh tastes like a Dutch
herring. Get me a gentleman, and get this man out of
the room ; the very sight of him makes me sick. He
has a bad countenance ; I wouldn't like to meet him at
night in a dark alley if he had a grudge against me and
he was armed with a box of pills. He'd seize me and
make me swallow the lot. Get him out and send for
Milledge ; he knows what's what, and he's a gentleman,
besides."

Jack discharged the rather unpleasant duty put upon
him by his uncle with all the tact and discretion of
which he was capable, and the obnoxious son of Galen
took his departure, with his fee in his pocket.

** How much did you give him, Jack ?" asked Mr.
Oldmixon, in a feeble voice, as the door closed.

180 MB. OLDMIXOK.

'^ Five dollars."

*^ What !" exclaimed Mr. Oldmixon, rising up in his
bed and resting on one elbow, while he gazed at Jack
with an expression of the utmost sm^rise on his face,
" did you say five dollars ?"

^' Tes ; I gave him what he asked, of course."

" Five dollars !" groaned Mr. Oldmixon, sinking back
on the mass of pillows behind him. ^' No wonder !
What can you expect from a doctor that charges five
dollars for a first visit to a case like this ? A case of
nervous prostration, that requires the skill and tact of a
first-class man for its elucidation, to be attended to by a
fellow that values his opinion at five dollars ! Have
you sent for Milledge ? Get him at once, and let me
forget all about that little beast.

' Learn from the beast the physic of the field.'

Ha, ha ! that's a somewhat diCEerent meaning from what
Pope intended, but it suits the emergency. I've had
my beast, and I've learnt my physic."

^^ Yes, uncle, I've sent for him," said Jack, with a
smile that he could not repress. '' You won't get off
with five dollars from him. It will be twenty-five, at
least."

" All right, and I shall have the consolation of know-
ing that my medical attendant is a gentleman that doesn't
put currant jelly on canvas-back duck."

The great man came, saw his patient, treated him with
the most sympathizing hauteur and autocratic kindness,
smiled incredulously when told that a guest at the Lucul-
lus had put currant jelly on a canvas-back, threw up his
hands in a deprecatory manner when told that the man

A PAIE OP DOCTORS. 181

lived west of the Alleghanies, prescribed Vichy with
Lithia, ordered a month at Saratoga, although it was a
little late in the season, and then taking his twenty-five
dollars with a slightly wearied air, as though he had
pocketed a dozen or more like it that morning, and was
tired of the process, prepared to take his leave.

*^ You'll get over it, Mr. Oldmixon ; the provocation
was great, I admit ; but a man of your strength of will
generally masters these d^sagrdments. "

*' Yes, doctor, I suppose so ; but I never before felt
80 strong a desire to kill a man as I did to kill that
wretch. If it had not been for the law and the per-
sonal inconvenience to myseM of a trial, as well as the
disgrace to my nephew to have his uncle hanged, I
should have poisoned his wine on the spot. 1 had no
conscientious scruples on the subject — none whatever.
Besides, I'm born with it in me. Lewes says, and he isn't
the only one that's said the same thing, that murder,
like talent, seems occasionally to run in families. It runs
in ours, though we haven't always got our deserts for
yielding to the inclination."

The doctor laughed, said he didn't think it necessary
to call again, and then, after a few words of gossip, took
his leave.

^' Now, he's something like a physician !" exclaimed
Mr. Oldmixon. " What confidence in himself I What
aplomb ! Did you ever see anything grander than the
poise of his head ! To compare Milledge and Jimnay
is worse than comparing Hyperion to a Satyr. It's more
like pitting Apollo against a sanctified but dilapidated
ghoul. I suppose I'll either die now or get well. 1 have
had my due allowance of doctors.

182 MB. OLDMIXON.

*Se6 one physician, like a Soulier plies,
The patient lingers and by inches dies.
Bat two physicians, like a pair of oars,
Waft him more swiftly to the Stygian shores/

*' How much did you give him, Jack ?"

*' Twenty-five dollars."

^' And cheap at the money. 1 feel better already.
Won't you be kind enough to ring that bell for my man ;
I think I'll get up, and to-morrow I'll go to Saratoga.
I'm sorry I didn't kill that fellow Partridge," he added,
after a few minutes' silence. ** So many of my ancestors
were hanged, or otherwise executed, that I ought to have
done it, if only for the sake of the family. There hasn't
been an Oldmixon killed now for nearly a hundred years,
and you and that rascal Hogarth and myself are the only
ones left to maintain the honor of the race. I don't
suppose you'll be hanged. I've missed the best chance
I ever had in my life, and shall probably never get
another, so that the only one left to preserve the family
from sinking into oblivion is Hogarth. Well, I'm in-
clined to think he'll do his duty in this respect."

Mr. Oldmixon went to Saratoga, and was absent dur-
ing the whole period that Jack was painting his picture
of the taxidermists in Mr. Henschel's back room. He
could not make up his mind to stay longer than ten
days, notwithstanding Dr. Milledge had so strenuously
insisted upon a month. At that season of the year
Saratoga was not a desirable residence for anybody, much
less for a man like Mr. Oldmixon, who consulted his
comfort in everything he did, and who could find few
of the, to him, necessaries of life in the plain boarding-
house at which he put up at the Springs. But he walked
out to the Geyser every morning, and drank a half a

A PAIR OF DOOTOBS. 183

dozen tumblers of the water of that remarkable spring
during each day. And then, having imbibed sixty glasses
of the health-giving liquid, he came to the conclusion
that the latent gout, to which Dr. Milledge had aficribed
his symptoms, was thoroughly washed out of his blood,
and that it would be a very proper thing for him to re-
turn to New York, and begin over again. Besides, he
must tell Jack about the will and the conditions he had
imposed.

In the mean time Jack had had his easel carried to
Mr. Henschel's house and set up in the workshop, and
here he spent an hour every day at work on the picture,
which he had determined should, more than any other, be
representative of his peculiar style. He had no difficulty
in arranging the living and inert materiel to the best ad-
vantage, and in this was glad enough to avail himself of
Barbara's artistic instinct and keen sense of color and
form. These hours had been the pleasantest of his life,
and each one had passed with the girl more firmly placed
in his heart than before, so that when they had come to
an end, he was over head and ears in love, and ready to
sacrifice all his prospects in life for the sake of Barbara
Henschel.

Before meeting with her, Jack had always declared,
when questioned on the subject, that he should never
marry, and had insisted, with great vehemence, that
matrimony and art in its highest regions were absolutely
incompatible. ^' It's a difficult thing for a man to be-
come a great artist," he said one night to half a dozen
congenial companions, sitting with him on the piazza at
the Long Beach Hotel, ^' with everything in his favor,
and when he can entirely abstract himself, as occasion re-
quires, from all the little wearying affairs of life. But

184 MB. OLDMIXON.

for a married man I look upon the thing as almost an
impossibility. The great artists that have been married
are few, and they were such geniuses that no antago-
nistic circumstances could have kept them from rising.
"What I say, however, doesn't apply to geniuses. They
are quite an exceptional class ; but no one, I think, will
contend that a genius makes a good husband. He'll
stick to his art, and let his wife and children go. An
ordinary fellow, however, like any of us, with a moder-
ate talent for art and sufficient love for it to cause him to
devote himself to it assiduously enough to make himself
a good reputation, when he marries is going to give
it up, and tag on to the petticoats. He can't help him-
self. His heart isn't big enough for both, and the
woman wins.

*' That's all humbug !" said Danforth, a promising
young painter, who was known to be on the eve of mar-
riage with a very beautiful girl. Look at Eubens, and
Murillo, and Titian, and Tintoretto, and—"

''And look at Michael Angelo, Leonardo, Kaphael,
and a dozen others 1 might mention," interrupted Jack.
'' Besides, the men you mention were geniuses, and they
all made bad husbands."

'' How do you know they did ?" demanded Danforth.
'' That's an assumption on your part for which there's
no warrant."

'' Read their lives, my boy, and you'll find out. Now,
to come nearer home, there's Pickett. Two years ago
no one in this country bid fairer to reach the top of the
ladder of fame than Pickett. He had done some of the
best work that's been done in twenty years anywhere.
Well, he got married, and what is he now ? He sent a ■
picture to the Salon last year, and they wouldn't hang it j

A PAIB OF D0CT0R8. 185

and he sent one to the Academy this year, and they de-
clined to put it on the walls. 1 met him driving in the
Park a few days ago with his wife, two babies, and a
nurse, actually looking idiotically happy. It's all very
well for a fellow that goes in for that sort of thing, but
you can't serve God and Mammon, and I don't propose
to try."

They all laughed at this tirade, and Jack felt that de-
gree of elation that every man feels when he has made a
point and subdued his polemical adversaries.

But after once seeing Barbara Henschel, his opinions
began to waver, and before he had finished his sittings
in the workshop they had undergone a complete change,
and he would have been willing to renounce art forever,
had the sacrifice been necessary to gain her love. He
had discovered not only that she was beautiful — he had
found that out on the first day he had met her — but he
saw every hour that he passed in her presence some
new facial expression or mental characteristic that he
had not noticed before, and that enraptured him to a
degree that when he got home made him feel ashamed
of himself for his susceptibility. Finally the picture
was done, so far as it could be completed there, though
there were still many days of delicate touchings and re-
touchings necessary before it would be fit to go out of
his hands, and there would no longer be any excuse for
making the daily visits that had been a source of pleas-
ure beyond any that he had yet experienced.

Nevertheless, when he came nearly to the end of the
last sitting that Barbara was giving him, and looked
back over the past week, he could not conscientiously
say that he had any cause for self -congratulation. She
had always treated him with civility — ^indeed, even with

•^■^•^.

**.

r% f"'^

186 ME. OLDMIXOir.

friendliness, but she had never shown the least sign of
any particular feeling for him, although she must have
noticed from his looks, his manner, his speech, that she
was fast becoming of more than passing interest to him.
Women have it in their power, as Jack very well knew,
though he had never had an aflfair of the heart before,
to let a man see whether they care for him or not, and
that without compromising themselves in the slightest
degree. There are a thousand ways of doing this. It
may be a look, an action, a phase of manner, a word,
even an accent, a little thing of no consequence in itself,
one that may, without reproach, be disavowed should
occasion require, and that is of pregnant meaning when
spoken by a woman to the man she loves. Jack had
looked for some such token from Barbara, but he had
looked in vain. There had been nothing — ^absolutely
nothing — that he could bring back as a jpoint d^appui
for the love that had taken him captive.

This was his last day, and what excuse could he make
for coming again ? That was the question that occupied
his mind just then. Barbara was sitting at her work-
bench in the attitude in which he had placed her in his
picture, and he was trying to improve the conception of
her face that he had transferred to the. canvas. He
soon found, however, that his first idea — the one that
had come from the inspiration of the moment — ^was
more truthful than any he could elaborate by subse-
quent study, and that there was really nothing more
to do.

'^ I won't keep you any longer, Miss Henschel," he
said ; '^ by this, as it now is, I'll stand or fall. You have
been very good to me and very patient, and I thank you '
from the bottom of my heart. I'll send for these thingg.

.■*■■"

A PAIB OF BOCTOES. 187

to-morrow morning, and I'll put on the finishing touches
at my leisure. "

Barbara had not yet seen the picture. Jack had begged
her not to look at it till he gave her leave, and she had
scrupulously respected his wish. Every day when he
went away he had covered the canvas with a thick linen
cloth, and she had never once raised even a corner,
though she had felt no small degree of curiosity to see
what had been made of her.

But now she thought the time had come for her to
take a look, even if work still remained to be done on it ;
so after telling Jack that it had been no trouble to her to
sit for him, and that she was glad to have been the means
of helping him to a subject, she ventured to ask if she
might see the picture before it was taken away.

*' 1 don't see why you shouldn't do anything you like
with it," responded Jack, magnanimously. ^'If it
hadn't been for you there would have been no picture,
and all there is in it that's worth looking at is your
image and — and — your father's, of course. He has a
grand old face, and I've given special attention to bring-
ing out all its strong points. Certainly you shall see it.
Miss Henschel. Come round here. Wait a moment
till I get it in a little better light. That's it ; now stand
right here."

Barbara moved round to the front, after Jack had ad-
justed the easel according to his notion, and looked at
the picture. It represented the workshop with entire
fidelity ; somewhat in the background sat Mr. Henschel,
at work at a magnificent specimen of the mountain-sheep,
which looked as though it were standing on one of its
native Rocky Mountain crags. All the details of the
old .{nan's face and figure had been elaborated with tho

ih ^

188 MR. OLDMIXON.

utmost minnteness, and Barbara gazed at the portrait
without seeing more than the dim outline of her own,
so thoroughly impressed was she with the life-like repre-
sentation that the painter had made of her father. Then
she slowly turned her eyes to what Jack had intended
should be the chief feature of his picture — the likeness
of herself. He had painted her sitting at the work -bench
and moulding into form the ears of the silver fox which
stood before her. The attitude was full of grace ; her
fingers seemed to play about the delicate ears of the
animal, touching them as airily, as discriminatingly, and
yet as firmly as though the task were one of loving care,
requiring all the skill and attention of the worker. The
head was thrown slightly back, and as the work-bench
was rather low, the eyes were a little cast down ; but
their expression was one of infinite softness, almost ten-
derness, and there was just the least gleam of a smile
around the comers of the mouth, that appeared to show
that she was well pleased with what she had accom-
plished, and that gave an aspect of surpassing beauty to
the face.

Barbara looked at it in silence ; she had never thought
herself beautiful ; but this girl in the picture was lovely
beyond any woman she had ever seen before. She could
not believe it resembled her, and hence she was disposed
at first to think that the artist had flattered her, or else
that he had altogether failed to catch the likeness.

But as she contemplated the painting more attentively,
and studied the portrait with greater thoroughness, she
began to recognize the fact that it was like her, that the
artist had caught an expression that she had at times seen
on her face, and that he had succeeded in transferring it to

the canvas with a truthfulness and a skill that struck,her

^. #n^ •■■■■•

A PAIE OF DOCTORS. 189

BS being marvellous, while, at the same time, it gave her
infinite pleasure. Surprise and delight were on her face
as she turned to Jack, who had all the time been waiting
and wishing that by some supernatural power, as there
was no other way of doing it, he could, at once, paint
her as she then looked.

*' O Mr. Oldmixon I" she exclaimed, *'is it possible
I look Kke that ?"

**Not always. Miss Henschel," replied Jack, laugh-
ing ; " but sometimes you do. '* I tried to get you at
your best, and I thought till just now that I had suc-
ceeded ; but now I know that your face is capable of
lovelier expressions than the one I captured. I beg
your pardon," he continued, seeing that Barbara was
blushing deeply ; '' 1 did not intend to descend to the
triviality of paying you a compliment on your personal
appearance ; I would have no right to take such a liberty.
1 was speaking altogether from an artistic standpoint,
and was thinking of you, not as Miss Barbara Henschel,
who has been kind enough to do me the greatest favor I
have ever received, but as the model from whom I have
derived whatever inspiration guided my brain and hand."

'' And father," said Barbara, shifting the subject of
conversation as soon as she could ; ^^ you have made
an admirable likeness of him. There is not a feature of
his face that is not truthfully brought out, and the ex-
pression is exactly that that is always present when he is
greatly interested; Oh, yes, you hasre made an admir-
able hkeness of him I He wiU be delighted, I know. I
had no idea that you would succeed so well with the
animals," she continued, after she had minutely exam-
ined the representations of the silver fox, the mountain
sheep, and two or three others of less importance that Jack

.-.t

190 MB, OLDMIXON.

had introduced. '^ I think yon have had the exact idea
in regard to them that you ought to have had. I was
afraid that you would make them too life-like, and that,
therefore, it might be thought that you were painting
them from nature ; but every person can see that these-
are mounted specimens. "

'' You have hit upon the one point, after that of get-
ting your likeness, that gave me the most trouble, and
my difficulty came from the fact that your mounting is
so perfect, that it is almost the exact counterpart of
nature. Of course I had to represent the work of the
taxidermists, and not live animals, and I found it a tough
piece of work to steer so as to avoid the Scylla of natur-
alism, and yet not run into the Charybdis of artificiality.
Your opinion that I have succeeded gives me every
assurance I could desire. Here, at least. Miss Henschel,
I may compliment you, and say, that there is no one I
know whose judgment in such a matter is as good as
yours."

So they talked, and finally Mr. Henschel came in ;
and Jack, declaring that at last there was an opportunity
for him to get an unbiassed judgment of his portrait of
Barbara, called upon the old man for his opinion.

Mr. Henschel was no mean judge of such matters.
He had seen nearly all the famous pictures of Europe,
and had formed ideas of composition and coloring that
were based upon a knowledge of the manner in which
they had been treated by the greatest masters that the
world had known. One glance at Jack's picture was
sufficient to engage his attention, and to keep it engaged
till he had carefully studied it in all its details.

'^ It's a fine picture, Mr. Oldmixon," he said, at last ;
'^ it's enough to make the reputation of any painter. It

A PAIR OF BOCTOBS. 191

puts me in mind of one of those Flemish interiors, of
which Teniers has given us so many striking examples.
And you've got the very look on Barbara's face that I
would rather see there than any other. It's the best
you've got, my dear," turning to address his daughter,
and finding, to his surprise, that she had disappeared.
'' Ah well I it's perhaps better that she should not hear
too many praiseful speeches," he continued. " You've
never painted as beautiful a face as that before, have you,
Mr. Oldmixon?". .

'' Never !" exclaimed Jack, enthusiastically. '* I can
say to you, Mr. Henschel, what I could not say to her —
it's the loveliest face I ever saw."

'^ Ay, and not only her face 1 Look at the sheen on
that hair. Isn't it what you might tliink molten gold
would look like with the sunlight gleaming on it ? And
the poise of the head ! How gracefully she has thrown
it back, and turned it a little to one side, while she looks
critically at the work she is doing, and the hands and the
arms from which the loose sleeves have fallen back, just
far enough to show the delicate wrists passing almost
imperceptibly into the fulness that marks where the
muscles^ are that move her slender fingers. But," he
continued, with a smile, " I am talking like an old man,
and I'm afraid a little too much like an anatomist. I
don't think I ever talked that way about my girl before,
and, in fact, I forgot in my admiration of the picture
that it was my daughter 1 was speaking of. Set it down
to the picture, not to her ; but it's wonderfully like her,
Mr. Oldmixon."

Jack was now satisfied ; so throwing the cover over the
picture, he began gathering his property together into
one place.

192 MB. OLDHIXOK.

'' I sliall send for all this to-morrow, Mr. Henscliel,''
he said, '' and then I shall cease to trouble you."

'' Oh, it's been no trouble I You've done us a great
honor in making us the subject of your picture, and if
there's anything I can do for you, I hope you'll let me
know. Some time or other you might want a rare animal
for a model, and I am in the way of getting such things.' '

'' Thanks ; I shall certainly avail myself of your Idnd-
ness should occasion require, and in the mean time I
have a favor to ask of you."

'' You've only to mention it."

'* Let me come here occasionally to talk to you and
your daughter while you are at your work. You both
know so much more than I do of many things that I
want to know, that I trust you will not refuse me the
opportunity of learning them."

'^ Ay, ay, we'll both be glad to see you. But we'll
not be here long now ; I have nearly completed all the
arrangements for selUng the business and moving to a
little farm I've just bought near New Eoclielle and
Mamaroneck."

^' You are going away ?"

y Yes ; but not far. I gave Barbara a month to think
of it, but she only took a week, and then she told me
she was ready to go."

" And you will no longer be taxidermists ?"

"Not for more than a week or so longer; but my
daughter is going to become a sculptor. Mr. Maurice
is to be her instructor. Do you know him ?"

" Oh, yes ; every one knows Maurice ; he is the most
competent man for the work of an instructor in sculpture
that there is in the city."

Then you can, perhaps, come out to see us some

((

A PAIR OF DOCTORS. 193

day, and look around our little place, or take a sail on
the Sound."

" I should be delighted."

^'Tes," said Barbara, entering the room at the
moment, ^' you will have to come, if it's only to tell us
how you caught the silver fox."
9

CHAPTER XIIL

A TENDEB-HEAETED HUSBAND.

Mr. Hogarth Oldmixon, whom we left reflecting upon
a few plain-spoken words from his wife, was not one of
those exceptional persons that believe in the eflScacy of
soft answers in turning away wrath. It was his system
not so much to divert angry feelings as to subdue them,
and he effected his purpose, not only by the use of signifi-
cant and energetically expressed language, but by the
employment of such additional measures iij the way of
physical force as his experience had taught him were
likely to promote peace by silencing his adversaries.

After Mrs. Hogarth Oldmixon had delivered herself
of the sharp little speech recorded in a previous chapter,
her husband sat for a moment or two without making any
response, either by word or deed. Then he very deliber-
ately got up, locked the door, and put the key into his
pocket. Then he came to where his wife was sitting
rocking herself with great energy backward and forward
in a chair, that, every time it reached its full extent of
inclination in either direction, looked as though it would
topple over and land its occupant on the floor. He stood
before her with his legs wide apart and his hands ram-
med down into the depths of his trousers pockets, and
having regarded her with a look of which low cunning
and superciliousness were strong features, as long as he
thought desirable under the circumstances, he reached out

A TENDEE-HEABTED HUSBAND. 195

both hands as though to seize her by the neck and shoul-
ders as the initial step of his active proceedings. Sud-
denly, however, as if influenced by some other thought,
he dropped his arms, and turning away, strode to one of
the windows and looked out on the deserted street, down
which torrents of water were still rushing.

While Mr. Hogarth was looking at her with his mixed
expressions of malicious astuteness and contempt, Mrs.
Hogarth continued to rock herself violently, as though the
chief object of her life was to get through a certain
amount of the oscillatory exercise in a certain time. She
never raised her eyes to her husband's face, though it can-
not be said that she quailed before him. If she had seen
the look of devilish malice on his countenance she might
have felt some qualms of fear, and have kept a silent
tongue in her head during the rest of the interview. But
she was one of those women that never know when they
are well oflf , and who, moreover, know so little of the male
part of the human race that they are sure to misinterpret
any action not of the most positively demonstrative char-
acter. They are like the woman who told me upon one
occasion that she never knew her husband was in earnest
about anything till he had kicked her two or three times,
to prove his sincerity.

As Mr. Hogarth went toward the window, Mrs. Ho-
garth raised her eyes, and gave a withering glance at his
retreating form. Then the word " coward " came hiss-
ingly from her lips ; and as this met with no response she
repeated it, with the addition of the word " bully I"
Still meeting with no reciprocity, she went still farther.
*' Coward, bully, and liar !" she said, and then apparently
reaching the conclusion that she had, for that occasion at
least, exhausted her powers of invective, she threw herself

196 ME. OLDMLXOK.

back in her chair, and resumed the rocking process, which
had been temporarily interrupted.

But she was not to be left to pursue this innocent,
if ungraceful ezercise without interruption. Whether
or not the word ^'liar" is more aggravating when ap-
plied to a person than ''coward" or "bully," or both
combined, may never be definitely determined for man-
kind at large ; but it certainly appeared to be the case,
either that Mr. Hogarth regarded it as more vitaperative
in itself, or, like the last straw that broke the camePs back,
it was cumxdative, and hence added just the necessaiy
force required to convert the gentleman to whom it was
addressed from a comparatively peaceable man into one
in whom rage had taken the place of reason. At the word
"coward" his fingers had moved spasmodically; at
"bully" his face had twitched and his eyes had glared ;
but there did not appear to be any indication that Mr.
Hogarth's emotional disturbance would carry him beyond
the point of manifesting these, in themselves harmless
muscular motions. But at the word "liar" he started,
turned, and with one bound reached the chair in which
his wife was rocking herself. To seize her around the
waist and to carry her to the bed in the next room were
acts that were done in an instant. She had at first been
too much astonished to cry out ; but now she began to
make attempts to shout, which, however, were promptly
rendered abortive by her husband cramming his handker-
chief into her mouth. He threw her on the bed with all
the strength of which he was master, and then taking the
pillow, was proceeding to press it on her face, but her
struggles were of so violent a character that he could not
succeed all at once in accomplishing his object. She
fought with her hands ; she fought with her feet ; and she

A TENDER-HEAETED HUSBAND. 197

twisted her body in all directions with such a degree of
agility that he was for a time baffled. She saw that
he meant to kill her. His eyes were bloodshot and star-
ing, his face was of a livid hue, his lips were retracted
80 as to show his teeth, and he uttered threats and denun-
ciations — incoherently, it is true, but, nevertheless, with
sufficient distinctness for her to understand that he in-
tended to take her life. He was a man of great physical
strength, and the contest, with everything in her favor,
would have been only a question of time. As it was,
with her on the bed and he standing over her and bring-
ing the weight of his body to act in conjunction with his
strong arms, her chance was slim. Gradually he obtained
more fixedness for the pillow, and at last he got it over
her face, and held it there, while her arms and legs twitch-
ed convulsively and her breast heaved in the ineflfectual
eflFort to get a breath of air. Then all was still — all
except his own hurried breathing and the pulsation of
his heart, the sound of which organ struck with a dull,
muffled thump upon his ears, and jarred his body as a
laboriously-working machine jars the house in which it
is lodged.

He stood by the side of the bed for a few moments, as
if endeavoring to collect his thoughts. Then he took
away the pillow from the face of his wife, and minutely
inspected her countenance. There was no distortion of
the features, and after he had adjusted the limbs and
smoothed her clothing and the bed, she looked for all the
world as though she were asleep. He felt her pulse, then
placed his hand over her heart, then watched closely for
the slightest motion of her chest. Yes, she might look
as though she were asleep, but for all that she was dead,
and he had killed her.

198 MR. OLDMIXON.

Now, strange as it may seem, lie had not at first intend-
ed to kill her. He had been irritated beyond measure
by her taunts and abuse, and he had purposed giving her
a taste of his power by carrying her to the bed, and then,
tying her hand and foot, to leave her there till it should
suit his pleasure to release her. But her attempts to
scream and her sturdy resistance had still f mi;her de-
veloped the diabolical spirit that he possessed, and then he
had been carried far beyond his original design. As she
resisted, he attacked ; as she endeavored to escape, he made
more determined efforts to subdue her, until finally the
distinct pm'pose of ridding himself of what he considered
was a bad bargain came suddenly into his mind.

It was not a spontaneous thought, neither was it one de-
veloped by the opposition he had met from her struggle
for life ; but it was evolved out of the idea that she was in
some way or other the cause of his uncle's displeasure with
him. At first this was only the dimmest kind of an im-
pression, but in a few seconds — the brain works with won-
derful celerity at such times — it had become an over-
whelming conception of such intense distinctness that he
imagined that he could see and hear his uncle denounc-
ing him for having married Camilla White. Then his
resolution was taken. He would kill her now that he
had the chance, and rid himself forever of the one that
stood between him and wealth.

He was not the man to feel remorse for anv act that
he might commit, especially when it was one like this, that
apparently was going to work to his advantage ; but he
none the less felt the danger that he had incurred and the
necessity that existed for making such an arrangement of
matters as would divert all shadow of suspicion from
himself. He had already put the corpse and its surround-

A TENDEE-HEAETED HUSBAin>. 199

ings into a state of order ; to wash his face and hands,
to brush his hair, and to set his clothing to rights were
small matters, but they had a great effect in causing him
to look calm and comfortable. Indeed, as he glanced at
himself in the glass, he could not discover a trace of the
severe contest through which he had just passed ; and cer-
tainly no one examining his countenance, with all the
trained skill of a physiognomical expert, would have sus-
pected that he had, not half an hour before, killed his
wife.

Hogarth Oldmixon was a man of ample resources, es-
pecially when they were to be exercised for his own pro-
tection. In the first place, he had that command of himself
so long as his reason was not obscured or overwhelmed
by furious rage, as it had been just now, that enabled
him to preserve a calm exterior under all kinds of trying
circumstances ; and in the next, he was ready, with well-
constructed stories that were amply sufiicient to explain
any incongruous acts that he might have committed, and
that were so plausible, coherent, and systematic in all their
details, that no one hearing them was likely to suspect
that he had done anything that he ought not to have done.
His great danger was his ungovernable temper ; for
when that was excited he was apt to talk with an utter dis-
iregard to his own welfare and with a tendency to re-
veal circumstances that in his rational state he would have
died rather than confess.

He knew the advantage in circumstances such as those
that now surrounded him of attention to what were appar-
ently small things ; so, after taking another look at the
corpse, to see that everything connected with it was exact-
ly as he intended it to be, he drew on his gloves, brushed
his hat, put a clean white linen handkerchief into the

200 HB. OLDMIXOK.

breast-pocket of his coat, and then taking his cane, nn*
locked the door, leaving the key on the inside, and then
proceeded down-stairs to the office. He went to the door,
and looking out, pretended to be inspecting the state of
the weather.

" I think it is going to clear,' ' he said to the clerk be-
hind the counter. '' Mrs. Oldmixon is very anxious to
visit the Naval School, and to see something of the city.
Will you be kind enough to order a carriage for five
o'clock ? It is now just four," looking at his watch as he
spoke the last words.

" Will you have a close or an open carriage ?" said the
clerk.

'' Which do you think would be best i Suppose you
send up and ask Mrs. Oldmixon which she would prefer."

" It is certainly going to clear," said the clerk ; *^ the
blue sky is showing itself now off there in the west, and
in an hour it will be as bright as can be."

''Well then, never mind sending to Mrs. Oldmixon.
I'll take the responsibility of ordering an open carriage.
In the mean time I'll take a walk. Which is the way to
the State House ?"

The clerk pointed out the direction, and Hogarth was
soon walking around the State House circle, and thinking
to himself what a bold stroke that was to invite the clerk
to send up to Mrs. Oldmixon, when, if he had done so,
the fact of her death would have been at once discovered.
He smiled as he thought of the occurrence. " I saw
there was no servant about," he said, " and that it would
be some trouble for him to get one. Besides, they charge
more for open carriages than they do for close ones. It
was a pretty safe move, and it will do me an infinite de-
gree of good in about an hour from now."

A TENDER-HEARTED HUSBAND. 201

Having gone around the circle, he walked down a street
that led to the water, and then across to the main street,
upon which the hotel stood. His chief object now was
to occupy the time till the carriage arrived at the door,
and it became necessary to notify his wife to get ready
for her drive. He was aware that many persons in situa-
tions similar to his betray themselves by their excessive
anxiety not to appear discomposed, and by a meddlesome-
ness with matters that are working well, and that should
therefore be let alone. He was not one to wreck him-
self on any such shoals as these. He had, ever since he
had left the hotel, been thinking over the probable course
that an average man would pursue if he had ordered a
carriage for a live wife, as he had ordered one for a dead
wife. He was trying to find out exactly what the bold-
ness of innocence would prompt a man to do, and having,
without much difficulty — for his knowledge of human
nature was great — arrived at a definite conclusion on
this point, he had nothing further to accomplish than to
walk about the place as openly as possible till the hour
for returning to the hotel came round. "While it was no
part of his plan to do things for the purpose of disarming
suspicion, he thought it would not be amiss for him to
enter one or two shops and to purchase some trifiing arti-
cle in each. It would give the occupants an opportunity
for noting his calm and equable manner, and that might
be of importance to him. He could imagine them say-
ing to each other,

^' Just think, that while he was in here buying that

tooth-brush — and as pleasant a man as ever came into the

store — his poor wife was lying dead in her bed at the City

Hotel. He would have looked very differently, I guess,
9*

202 MB. OLDMIXON.

if he could have known that his bride had gone to another
world ;"or,

" Poor fellow I little did he know when he was pick-
ing out that soap for her that she was gone to where the
soul is cleansed [the Annapolitans are a pious people] of
all its impurities by the blood of the Lamb, that washes
whiter than soap. How particular he was to get violet !
It was her favorite perfume, he said.''

That was about the way they would talk, he supposed,
and the result showed how profound was his knowledge
of the way of the world.

He walked around the church circle, and then out tow-
ard St. John's College, and then turning to the east,
reached a street that took him to the State House Circle
again. He looked at his watch. It was a quarter of five.
It was time for him to return and face the terrible ordeal
that had within it perhaps the potentiality of sending him
to the gallows. Pshaw ! That was impossible !

As he entered the hotel lie saw that a carriage, pre-
sumably the one he had ordered, was at the door. He
crossed the hall on his way to the staircase in full view
of the clerk, who was standing behind the counter talk-
ing to one of the servants of the house.

'' Is that my carriage ?" he inquired.

'' Yes, sir," answered the clerk ; ^' shall 1 send up for
Mrs. Oldmixon ?"

There was a hesitation of the fraction of a second be-
fore Hogarth answered. A less bold or a less shrewd
man would have jumped at the chance ofiEered of having
the awful discovery made for him that a visit to the room
above must necessarily reveal. But Hogarth was bold
and he was shrewd. He reflected that it would be more
in accordance with the fitness of things that a newly mar-

A TENDEE-HEARTED HUSBAND. 203

ried man would, under the circumstances, after having
been absent an hour, go himself to inform his wife that
he had arranged for a drive, and that the carriage was at
the door. At the same time, he thought that it would
be well that some one should be present when the discov-
ery of the dead body was made, and it took only an in-
stant for him to arrange in his mind for that object.

'' No,' ' he replied ; " I will go up for her myself. I
wish, however, you would send a man to unstrap a trunk
that I want to get at. "

'^ Go with the gentleman, Tom."

Hogarth ascended the steps, followed by Tom, a big,
good-natured negro, who, like his people generally, was
ready to enter into conversation with strangers.

*' I guess ' Naplis ' ain't as big as New York," he said.
*^ It's growed aheap, though, since they brought 'the
Yard' here."

" No, it's not so large as New York," answered Ho-
garth, in his sua vest tones. " What's the best drive about
here, Tom?" he inquired, determining to make friends
with the man.

"JV^ell, everybody goes down to Hhe Yard.' And
then there's the hay-scales — 'most everybody goes to see
them scales,"

By this time they were at the door of Hogarth's room —
the one that he and his wife had used as a sitting-room.
He turned the knob and entered, followed by Tom. The
door between the two rooms was closed.

'' There's the trunk, Tom," he said, pointing to it.
'^ The tongue of one of the buckles seems to have got
bent in some way or other, and as you're stronger than
1 am, perhaps you can straighten it."

*^ I never seen the trunk yet dis chile couldn't open.

204 HB. OLDMIXON.

Dat is, of course," he added, laaghing, ^Mf I had the
key."

He bent over it, and while he was busy fumbling at
the strap, Hogarth opened the door between that room
and the one in which lay the corpse of his wife, Tes,
there it was, just as he had left it. He stood for a mo-
ment looking at it, and then he hurriedly crossed the floor
to the bed. The man in the next room could have seen
every action, had he turned aroifnd. Hogarth did not
know whether he was looking or not, but he hoped he
was, and he felt quite sure that he was, knowing, as he
did, the curiosity of the negro. At any rate, his actions
were all based upon the presumption that he was observed,
and hence he intended that they should be as nearly as
possible such as his knowledge of human nature had
taught him would be natural under the circumstances in
which he was apparently placed.

" Milly !** he said, as though addressing his sleeping
wife. * * Milly ! ' * he repeated, in a somewhat louder voice.
** Milly !" again, still louder, accompanied with a gentle
shake of the shoulders of the dead woman.

Then he placed his anus under the body and raised it
up in the bed. '* Milly ! Milly !" he cried. Then to
the man who had been looking and listening all the time :
* * My God, something has happened ! Run at once, and
tell them to send for a doctor !**

Tom gave one good look in through the door. He saw
Hogarth supporting the form of his wife with one hand,
while he rubbed her forehead with the other, and spoke
to her in the tenderest words a man can use. Then he
mshed down-stairs at full speed, telling a couple of cham-
bermaids he met on the way to go in there to No.
22, and help the gentleman. ** His wife's fainted, 1

A TEISDER-HEAETED HUSBAND. 205

guess, or sometliin' o' that sort's happened." Then
shouting out to the clerk that something was the matter
in No. 22, he dashed across the street to summon Dr.
Ridings.

The clerk was as dignified an individual as a hotel-clerk
ought to be. It was against his principles to show haste,
or even undue interest, in anything that he did ; but Tom's
manner, as well as his words and the screams that reached
his ears from up-stairs, told him that something serious
had occurred, and that the honor of the house required
that he should make himself personally acquainted with
the circumstances. He therefore — and he could not re-
call that he had ever done the like before in all his life —
mounted the stairs two at a time, and at the door of No,
22 was met by Mr. Hogarth Oldmixon, who, as pale as
death, gasped out :

* * A doctor ! for God's sake, a doctor ! Is there no phy-
sician to be had for love or money ?"

** What's the matter ?" said the clerk. "I've sent for
a doctor. ' ' He entered the room as he spoke. The wom-
en in the next apartment had ceased screaming, but
they were busy rubbing the hands of the limp body that
lay on the bed.

** O Mr. Campbell !" said one of them, ** she's quite
dead. She must have been dead an hour, for she's get-
ting cold."

All this time Hogarth was walking the room wringing
his hands, and ejaculating every moment expressions
that were well calculated to show the depth of his
grief.

** So young," he said, approaching the bed, while tears
— real tears — ran down his cheeks, " and so happy, and
to be taken off in this way I My God, I do not understand

206 HR. OLDMIXOK.

it. I left her an liour ago well and joyous. I return to
find her dead. Oh, it is hard, very hard !"

^' Calm yourself, Mr. Oldmixon," said the clerk, who
had satisfied himself that Mrs. Oldmixon was really dead.
'^ These things are hard to bear, but — ''

^'Hard to bear!" exclaimed Hogarth, passionately^
throwing himself across the dead body of his wife —
^'thia is impossible to be borne. Oh, why was 1 not
also taken ? Milly, my darling ! are you really dead ? So
young ! so lovely ! My wife ! my wife ! come back to me I
oh, come back !"

*'Mr. Oldmixon," said the clerk, moved to tears by
the unrestrained grief of the afflicted husband, " there
is the doctor" — as that gentleman entered the room, fol-
lowed by Tom — ^' perhaps there may still be a spark of
life, and it may not yet be too late to revive her."

The doctor, without speaking, approached the bed,
while Mr. Campbell gently raised Hogarth from the dead
body that he was passionately embracing, and led him
into the next room.

It did not take the physician long to arrive at an opin-
ion relative to the case to which he had been called, al-
though Tom's information had not led him to expect one
of such great gravity. Mrs. Oldmixon was dead. The
only thing he had to do was to ascertain, if possible, the
cause of her death, and then to give the certificate for
burial or removal from the city, as might be desired.
The authorities in small towns, where crimes of violence
are less common than they are in the large cities, are not
so strict in such matters as they ought to be, and the
doctor, who disliked making a fuss when it could be
avoided, hoped that there would be enough of a history
of the case for him to base an opinion on without his be-

A TEKDER-HEARTED HUSBAND. 207

ing obliged to resort to a post-mortem examination or a
coroner's inquest.

''This is a very sad event," he said, going over to
where Hogarth sat, under the soothing admonitions of
Mr. Campbell, " and a very sudden one, too. Will you
try and calm yourself, Mr. Oldmixon, snflSciently to give
me an account of the event, so far as your knowledge ex-
tends ?"

Hogarth at these words looked wildly around him for
a moment, as though endeavoring to ascertain where he
was, and then having apparently settled his mind on the
point, said :

" I left her at four o'clock in perfect health ; I returned
at five to find her dead. That is all I know." He
buried his face in his hands when he had said these words,
and sobbed as though his heart were broken.

'' Had she been complaining of pain in her head or
chest?" inquired the doctor, whose thoughts were run-
ning in the direction of brain or heart disease.

Hogarth shook his head. ''No," he said, after wait-
ing a moment, as though to give effect to the double de-
nial, " she complained of no pain anywhere. She said
she felt a little tired, and would lie down while I was
out."

"Was that all she said?" continued the doctor, anx-
ious to find some symptom that would lead to further in-
quiry, and thus do away with the necessity of a post-
mortem examination.

" She asked me to purchase one or two toilet articles
for her. 1 have them here." He took from his pocket
the tooth-brush and soap he had bought, and laid them
on the table. "Yes," he continued, with more anima-
tion than had yet characterized his remarks, " she said

208 MR. OLDMIXOK.

she felt faint, and I sprinkled a little eau de cologne on
her handkerchief, and held it to her face for a moment.
That seemed to revive her."

" Were there no nausea, feeling of suffocation, diz-
ziness, or sense of constriction about the head or chest ?
No pain — nothing but what you have mentioned ?"

'' No ; there was nothing. I attached no importance to
the f aintness, as she had several times experienced it.
I supposed it was the result of slight dyspepsia."

Now, strange as it may seem — though it is only another
instance of the boldness with which Hogarth Oldmixon
was endowed — he desired that there should be a post-mor-
tem examination of his wife's remains, and a regular
certificate of the cause of death given. He knew that
such a certificate, followed as he desired it to be by a cor-
oner's inquest, would be the most effectual confutation
that could be had of any hints or suspicions that there
had been foul play. He had heard it said that not one
person in a hundred has a perfectly healthy heart. His
wife had once or twice complained of feeling a little op-
pression after climbing many steps. She was slightly
inclined to stoutness, and he had understood that one of
her sisters had several years previously died of heart dis-
ease.

Besides these points, there were two others that he
deemed of great importance. He saw that the doctor
was an old-fashioned practitioner, who probably had not
made a post-mortem examination since he had been a
medical student, and he knew enough of the human body
to be aware of the fact that he had, by suffocating his
wife, produced a congestion of the lungs, such as would
have resulted from a failure of the heart to send the blood
through them, and that this organ would be found gorged

A TENDEB-HEABTED HUSBAKD. 209

With the fluid that it coiild not propel into lungs that
could not expand. He was quite sure that a post-mortem
examination would convince the doctor that death had
been due either to congestion of the lungs or heart-disease.
Armed with his certificate to this effect, and the verdict
of a coroner's jury based upon it, and his wife's dead
body in the ground, he would be absolutely safe, not only
so far as his neck was concerned, but even from the sus-
picion that he had committed murder.

'^ My dear friend," he said, taking hold of the doctor's
hand, " you are very kind, and I see that you wish to
spare me the pain of a post-mortem examination of the
remains of my dear wife. But, however terrible the idea
may be, I desire that nothing shall be omitted that can
throw light on the cause of her death. I hope, Mr.
Campbell," he continued, turning to the clerk, and speak-
ing with more firmness, ^* that you will at once notify
the coroner that a sudden and altogether unexplainable
death has taken place, and request him as a favor to a
wretched man, too much disturbed to write for himself,
to make his examination as soon as possible — this evening,
if it is within his power."

^' I will go to him myself," answered the clerk, '^ and
I will engage to have him here in half an hour."

"At the same time," continued Hogarth, "be kind
enough to send this message by telegraph to her poor
father." He tore a blank leaf out of a book and wrote :

" Camilla died suddenly between four and five o'clock
this afternoon. Further particulars will be sent in an
hour. If you leave to night, you can be here to-morrow
morning, I am wild with grief. Come.

" HOGAETH OlDMECON."

210 ME. OLDMIXON.

Within the half hour the coroner arrived, and at once
directed that a post-mortem examination shonld be made.
Dr. Hidings performed it, and unhesitatingly gave his
evidence to the effect that death had ensued from con-
gestion of the lungs, probably due to a feeble heart, and
the coroner's jury returned their verdict in accordance
with the physician's dictum. And all the medical wisdom
of the world, with nothing but the corpse before it, unac-
quainted with the facts, and with no ground for suspicion,
could not have arrived at any other opinion than that the
death was due to natural causes, inherent in her organism.

CHAPTER XIY.

A VISION, OR WHAT?

A FEW days after Jack liad finished his picture Mr.
Oldmixon returned to New York, feeling, as he declared,
as well as he ever had felt in his life, so far as his body
was concerned, but stupid and indolent to an extreme
degree in everything that related to mental activity. He
had invited Jack by letter from Saratoga to breakfast
with him at the LucuUus, and the two were sitting at the
table enjoying that delightful meal, the ability to appre-
ciate which is one of the surest evidences of good health.
He had heard nothing of the sudden death of Mrs.
Hogarth Oldmixon at Annapolis, having while at Saratoga
been shut oflE from all newspaper facilities for getting a
knowledge of what wus going on in the world at large,
or, rather, having shut himself oflE purposely from such
means of communication. The large hotels were all
closed, be saw nobody that he knew, and it was too much
trouble for him to get a New York paper. He had come
there for the benefit of his health, and he did not want to
have the restorative processes that had been set in action
disturbed by reading of the murders, arsons, robberies,
embezzlements, and other crimes that constitute the staple
items of intelligence furnished by most of the newspapers.

But Jack had read of the sad event in the papers of
the following morning, and had attended the funeral of
the young wife at the church and at the cemetery. He

212 MB. OLDMIXON.

had seen Hogarth there, but Hogarth had not seen him,
being apparently so much overcome with grief that he had
kept his face buried in a handkerchief all the time that
the services were going on in the church and at the grave.

He saw as soon as he and his uncle came together that
the old gentleman knew nothing of the catastrophe, and
he was deliberating with himself whether or not he should
tell him of what had occurred. " Perhaps," he thought,
" it will be better for me to let him find it out for him-
self."

But a little reflection brought him to the conclusion
that this would be neither wise nor kind, and he perceived
that such a course would justly lay him open to rebuke
from his uncle. He resolved, therefore, that as soon as
the breakfast was over he would enlighten him, and he
concluded that the best way to do this would be to give
him the newspaper to read that contained a full account
of the affair as known to the public, and which he had at
that moment in his pocket.

*'I feel particularly charitable this morning, my dear
boy," said Mr. Oldmixon, after he had swallowed the last
glass of Chablis — a wine he always drank for his break-
fast — ^' I feel at peace with all the world, always saving
and excepting that rascal Hogarth. I even think I could
forgive Partridge for putting that vile jam, or whatever
it was, on canvas-back. I've been thinking it over. You J
know they don't know much about canvas-backs in St,
Louis. How the devil should they, when they are two
thousand miles west of the Chesapeake?"

Jack laughed ; " I don't think you can fairly let him
off on that score," he said. '' They get the canvas-back
now about as promptly in St. Louis as they do in New
York, and they know how to cook and eat it there, too."

A VISION, OR WHAT? 213

" Now, Jack, you're determined to ontdo me in gener-
osity. No one knows how to cook and eat a canvas-back
unless he's been born and brought up on the Chesapeake,
or very near it. Why, they don't even know in New
York, unless it is the few choice spirits, like myself, who
have been lucky enough to come from where the ducks
come from, and the still fewer people we've taught. I've
eaten canvas-backs in this very town at the tables of
people that onght to know better, and they tasted as
though they had but one hour before been puddling in a
mud-paddle — I mean paddling in a mud-puddle, " he con-
tinued, hastily correcting himself.

". I'm sorry, Uncle Victor," said Jack, who judged that
his time had now come, *' that you still feel so hardly
toward poor Hogarth."

^' Now, Jack, none of that ! I've had enough of ^ poor
Hogarth ! ' and 1 propose to drop him altogether out of
my recollection, if I can. He never did you a good turn
in all his life, yet here you are eternally bringing the fel-
low up, as though he were the best friend you had on the
earth."

^' He is my brother," said Jack, with some feeling.

*' Yes, and much good the relationship has done you.
No more of * poor Hogarth. ' You'll make me think
that you're the

* Bweet little cherub that sits np aloft,

To keep watch for the Ufe of poor Jack — *

Hogarth, I mean."

'' I didn't know, Uncle Victor, but that since Hogarth
has met with such an awful misfortune, you might be a
little more kindly disposed toward him, that's all."

*' Misfortune ! What misfortune ? Has he been sent

214 MB, OLDMIXON.

to the penitentiary, or" (with an utter disregard of the
possibilities) '* been hanged, or has he blown his brains
out r

"No," answered Jack, "it is none of these. Haven't
you heard?"

" Hear ! How the devil could I hear, shut up in that
damned hole, with no one to talk to but a freckled and
toothless old woman, who wanted to cure my gout with
hard cider ? What has happened to the fellow ?'*

" His wife is dead."

"What! Camilla! Dead!"

Mr. Oldmixon uttered these three words with a long
interval after each, and then his jaw fell, his eyes glared
vacantly at nothing, his hands dropped to his side, and
he appeared to have lost consciousness.

Jack sprang to his uncle's side, and soon discovered that
the condition of collapse, though severe, was not likely to
be of long duration. In a few moments he asked for a
glass of wine, and having drunk it, expressed himself as
feeling better.

' ' It was a great shock to me, my dear boy. These things
seem to be coming in battalions. Give me my nitrite of
amyl. I shall be all right physically if I can get a few
whiffs of that ; but my mind, Jack, is getting to be hope-
lessly shattered ; it will never be what it once was."

Jack put his hands into his uncle's waistcoat pocket
and took out a small vial. A few whiffs of the contents
seemed to act as a restorative to the old man, and to en-
able him to talk with greater ease.

" Tell me all about it," he continued ; " I think I can
stand it now."

Jack got out the newspaper. '' Her death was very
sudden. There is a full account of it here, and I'll read

A VISION, OE WHAT? 215

it to yon. It's a telegraphic despatch from Annapolis,
and was published in all the papers on the morning after
the occurrence,"

Mr. Oldmixon closed his eyes, and lay back in his chair
while Jack read :

^^ ^ Sudden Death of a New York Lady.

" * Annapolis, Maryland, Nc/o. 24, 1881. — ^Mrs. Ho-
garth Oldmixon, a bride of only a few days, died here
very suddenly at the City Hotel this afternoon, between
four and five o'clock. Her husband left the hotel for
a walk at four o'clock, and when he returned, at five,
found his wife a corpse. Life had probably been ex-
tinct for nearly an hour.

^^ ^ A post-mortem examination was made by Dr. Rid-
ings, with the result of ascertaining that death had ensued
from congestion of the lungs, the consequence, probably,
of fatty degeneration of the heart, or some other form of
cardiac weakness. The coroner's jury returned a verdict
to that effect.

^^ ^Mrs. Oldmixon's father is expected here to-morrow
morning, when the body will be taken to New York for
burial. Mr. Oldmixon is almost distracted with grief. '

^^ In this other paper," continued Jack, ^' there is an
account of the funeral. 1 thought it an act of respect to
go to it, and — ''

^^ Did you go to her funeral, my boy?" interrupted
Mr. Oldmixon. '' God bless you for that !"

'^Hogarth appeared to be in great grief," resumed
Jack. ^'I would have spoken to him, only I did not
like to intrude upon him at such a time, and besides — ' '

216 MR. OLDMIXON.

^^No," exclaimed Mr. Oldmixon, jumping from his
ctair ; ^' never speak to the wretch if you live a thousand
years ! He is a murderer ! I tell you, Jack, he killed
his wife. I saw him do it ! Yes, I saw him do it ! He
murdered her, cruelly murdered her, and I — I — saw him
doit.''

The last words were spoken very feebly, as Mr. Old-
mixon, unable to stand any longer, fell back into Jack's
arms, and was by liis nephew carried, or rather dragged, to
a sofa, where he lay down at full length, inhaling the
nitrite of amyl that was held to his nostrils.

Jack's first idea was, that his uncle had suddenly be-
come insane ; and the persistency with which he reiterated
the assertion that he had seen Hogarth kill his wife did
not tend to lessen this impression. Indeed, he had, ever
since the renewal of pleasant relations with Mr. Oldmixon,
been disposed to think that he was subject to periodical
attacks of lunacy, and he was convinced that he was suf-
fering from a paroxysm now of as well-marked a char-
acter as had ever been witnessed inside or outside of an
asylum. He therefore made no reply to the assertions of
his uncle, hoping that in a short time the delusion would
disappear.

^^ Jack," at last said the old gentleman, '^doubtless
you think I'm a lunatic, and I should not blame you if
you did, for the Oldmixons, as you know, are a queer lot,
and there's been insanity in the family, as well as worse
things, for many generations back. I may be insane,
sometimes I think I am, for I am conscious often of say-
ing and doing things that sane men don't say or do. I
think I told you some time ago that I thought 1 pos-
sessed the power to become sane or insane at will. But if
you were to think that I'm insane from what I said just

A VISION, OR WHAT? 217

now, you'd make a great mistake. 1 never was more in
earnest in my life, and never more fully in possession of
my mental faculties. Jack, I tell you I saw him murder
her !"

'' I don't understand, Uncle Yictor," said Jack ;
*^ you were at Saratoga at the time. At least, 1 suppose
so, and Hogarth and his wife were in Annapolis, three
hundred miles distant. It seems scarcely necessary for
me to ask you how, under these circumstances, you could
see such an act as that you speak of, for of course you
could not. Tour prejudice against Hogarth has distorted
your mind to such an extent that you deceive yourself,
and you are ready to believe any absurd fancy to his dis-
advantage that comes into your head."

Jack spoke decisively, and with a good deal of feeling.
He was determined not to countenance his uncle in the
outrageously unreasonable notions that he was disposed
to entertain relative to Hogarth, and this, the most pre-
posterous of them all, he resolved to crush at once.

" I don't wonder to hear you talk that way, my boy,"
said Mr. Oldmixon, feebly ; '^ you're such a good fellow
yourself, that you can't suspect evil in others. As to
my knowledge of the fact that Hogarth murdered his
wife, I am as much surprised at it as you can be, and I
did not accept my information as being true till you told
me that my Camilla was really dead. Then it all flashed
upon me in an instant, and now 1 know him to be a
murderer."

*^ I was not aware that you had any information on the
subject," observed Jack, apologetically, " or 1 should not
have spoken so positively. Pray, forgive me. As to
what you tell me about Hogarth, it is wonderful. I only
hope that you have been misinformed. I think you

10

218 MR. OLDMIXON.

ought to put me, Lis brother, in possession of all that
you know on the subject."

'' I intend to do so, Jack, just as soon as I get a little
more composed. I suppose I might as well do it now,"
he continued, as he sat upon the sofa. '^ Ring the bell,
Jack, and ask the fellow to bring me some brandy and
soda."

Jack did as requested, and his uncle, after having
mixed and drunk the liquids he had ordered, began :

^* I wouldn't expect you to believe what I am going to
say, if I didn't have the proof in my pocket, and which
I'll show you when I get through. I was sitting on the
lawn in front of my boarding-house at Saratoga on the
afternoon of the 24:th of last month ; I had just finished
reading a chapter of Silberhausen's great work on wines,
and was thinking of what he said about the prospects of
producing wines in this country that would excel those
of France and Germany, when suddenly I saw a scene,
apparently enacted before my very eyes, that filled me
with horror. And yet, when I say that 1 saw it, I am
not quite sure that I am correct. I CQrt^iivlj perceived
it, but I think I saw it just as distinctly when I closed
my eyes as I did when they were open. Indeed, I am
sure I did. By whatever means the images got to my
perceptive faculties, this is what I perceived :

"A man was standing by a window looking out into
the street ; a woman sat in a rocking-chair behind him
rocking herself violently. The man was Hogarth, the
woman was Camilla. It was a clear and delightful day
where I was ; it was raining furiously at the place where
these two were. Bear that point in mind, please.

" A horrid scowl was on Hogarth's face, and his hands
were twitching convulsively, as though itching to get hold

A VISION, OR WHAT? 219

of sometliing or somebody. Camilla looked dignified
and calm, though at the same time angry. I could not
hear a word, and therefore had no knowledge of what
they had said, or were saying to each other ; but their
actions were as clear to me as yours are now.''

Mr. Oldmixon took another potion of the brandy and
soda, and then resumed his relation.

^' Suddenly the scowl on Hogarth's face deepened ; his
countenance flashed with rage ; he turned, and with one
great bound seized Camilla, and lifting her from the
chair, bore her rapidly into the next room. Here he
threw her on the bed and stuffed a handkerchief into her
mouth, while she struggled violently to free herself from
his grasp. But it was no use ; he held her down on the
bed, and then he took the pillow and pressed it over her
face, so that I could no longer see it.

'' All this was so real to me, that I screamed out aloud
for help, but I was powerless to rise from the chair, and
in the mean time the horrible drama was being enacted
before my mental vision.

^'He forced the pillow against her face, and then
leaned over it with the whole weight of his body. She
had not ceased to struggle, but I could see that her
movements were those involuntary, spasmodic ones
that are performed without consciousness. Gradually
they became less violent, and at last ceased altogether.
Still Hogarth continued to lie with his whole weight
on the pillow. He was determined to make a sure
thing of it.

'' Again I screamed, ' He is murdering her 1 He is
murdering her ! ' But no one answered, and all my ef-
forts to get up and run for assistance — for so real was the
whole scene to me that I could not rid myself of the

220 MR. OLDMIXON.

idea that it was taking place right there — were in vain.
I seemed to be like lead ; I could not move a limb.

'' Finally Hogarth raised himself from the bed, and
then, after a moment's pause, removed the pillow from
Camilla's face. She lay there perfectly motionless, and
as peaceful-looking as though she were asleep. He put
the bed-clothes in order, folded her hands across her
chest, smoothed her dress, and then turned to leave the
room. At that instant I caught a last sight of his face.
If I live a thousand years, God save me from ever be-
holding such another face as that ! It contained in its
expression all the concentrated rage and wickedness of a
lifetime. And fear ! Ah ! yes, there was fear there.
The wretch was already bleached with terror. Large
drops of sweat — cold sweat, I do not doubt — stood out
on his face. He seemed to be about to run away, panic-
stricken, from the body that he had made a corpse.
Yes, he saw the gallows looming up in awful distinctness
before him, but in a moment he became calm, and then
I saw nothing more. A half a dozen women came run-
ning toward me from various parts of the house, asking
what was the matter, and insisting that they had heard
cries for assistance that seemed to come from me. "

*' You fell asleep, uncle, and dreamed all that. It is
very clear. You had been thinking of Hogarth and his
wife, and fearing that he would not treat her well ; and
that idea directed the cause of your dream. Doubtless
you also called out in your sleep. People often do that."

'' Yes, I know. That's what the women said when I
denied having called out ; for you see I didn't care, of
course, to tell them what I had perceived. But it was
no dream ; I was not asleep for a single instant."

'' Well, uncle, what was it ? You surely don't mean

A VISION, OE WHAT? 221

to say that while you were at Saratoga, and Hogarth in
AnnapoHs, you saw him kill his wife ?"

''Yes, Ido !" exclaimed Mr. Oldmixon, jumping up
and bringing his fist down on the table, till the glasses
jingled. " That's exactly what I mean to say. Explain
it I cannot. But I know that 1 saw what was real, and
by the living God I'll bring him to the gallows for his
crime ! There hasn't been an Oldmixon hanged for
many years, but many months will not elapse before he'll
dance on nothing !"

Jack saw that it was useless to attempt to argue the
matter. His uncle's convictions were as strong as it was
possible for them to be, and nothing but time could be
expected to act as an effectual antidote to them. It was
not likely that they would lead to anything further.

'' I wrote it all down," continued Mr. Oldmixon, after
he had refreshed himself with a few whiffs of the nitrite
of amyl, and another glass of brandy and soda, " and I
have the record here."

He took out his pocketbook, and from one of the com-
partments extracted a sheet of paper folded like a letter.
This he handed to Jack.

'' Eead it," he said, " and see if it accords with what
I have just told you."

Jack did as requested, and having finished reading it,
gave it back to his uncle.

''It is almost word for word with what you have
stated," he said.

' ' Very well ! Now look at the date here on the back. "

Jack again took the paper and read :

" Thursday, November 24, 1881, 3.35 p.m."

*' I took out my watch at the moment I ceased to see
anything," resumed Mr. Oldmixon, "and that was the

222 MR. OLDMIXON.

exact time. Now," he continued, bending toward Jack,
and speaking with a degree of concentrated energy,
" / solemnly declare that at that very houVj allowing for
the difference of timCy Hogarth Oldmixon murdered his
wife. My bird," he sobbed — ^his voice losing its force
and relapsing into a weakness that rendered the words
uttered almost indistinguishable — '^killed her bird, my
nephew killed her. A truly sad experience she has had
of the Oldmixon family. There's only one event want-
ing to make the group perfect, and that is the hanging
of her husband. That shall be my life-work till it is
accomplished or I have driven him to suicide."

^' Why, what a sanguinary old uncle he's getting to
be !" said Brooks, entering the room at the moment.
^' They told me down-stairs that you were here, and that
I could come right up for all they knew to the contrary.
Who's that you're going to drive to suicide ? Some one,
1*11 bet, that's given you warm champagne. How are
you. Uncle Victor ? How are you^ Mr. Oldmixon ?'*

^' Yes," said the old gentleman, never for an instant
losing his presence of mind, ' ' I was alluding to a fellow
who did that very thing; curious coincidence, isn't it?
I've been away, you know. Spent ten days at Saratoga,
drinking the Geyser water and gaining wisdom from my
books and the contemplation of nature. Happy is the
man who can be his own companion !"

" Why, Uncle Victor, you have come back more of a
philosopher than ever. You've been absorbing knowl-
edge and wisdom, as this new luminous paint absorbs
light, and you' re giving them out to us as it emits in the
darkness the rays it has received from the sun."

'^ Yes, yes," answered Mr. Oldmixon, complacently,
'^ something of that sort, I suppose. Let us hope that,

A VISION, OR WHAT? 223

unlike the luminous paint, I shall not confine my illumi-
nations to the dark."

'' Ha ! ha ! very good ! But,' ' assuming a serious air,
^' I beg to offer my condolences on the death of Mi*s. Ho-
garth Oldmixon. Yery sudden, wasn't it ? I saw your
nephew yesterday. He was looking as though he had suf-
fered greatly. Poor fellow ! A widower in five days !
That's what I call hard luck."

''Yes," answered Mr. Oldmixon, with a degree of
composure that fairly astonished Jack, " Hogarth has
been unfortunate. I did not know the lady he married
except by sight, but I understand she was a very esti-
mable woman."

Truly his uncle was a remarkable man, and Jack no
longer had any fear that he would make use of the '' in-
formation" he had received in a way to create a scandal.
He would probably go to work secretly to inquire into the
matter of the truth of what had so vividly been impressed
on his mind, but there would be no public denuncia-
tion of Hogarth. Indeed, any such course now, with no
other evidence than his vision or whatever else it misrht
have been, would only recoil upon himself, without do-
ing the least harm to the object of his attack. The whole
matter would be regarded by the public as an act of per-
secution against a nephew who had offended him. No ;
Jack felt sure now that his uncle would do nothing of
the kind unless he should succeed in obtaining more
tangible proof of Hogarth's criminality than that in his
possession. He was not to be long without other evi-
dences of Mr. Oldmixon's sagacity and at the same time of
his perseverance ; for in a few minutes Mr. Brooks, dis-
covering, probably, that he had broken in on a party
that wished to be in privacy, took his departure. No

224 MB. OLDMIXON,

sooner had the door closed behind him than Mr. Old-
mixon began :

*' It was well I took this private room," he said, " see-
ing that we've so much to say that is not for the public
ear — ^though they made me pay for four. How devilish
absurd that you can't dine or breakfast here with a friend
in a private room unless you have four in the party ! I
order for four and pay for four, and that stops their
mouths, but it's an imposition !

"Well," he resumed, after having unburdened his
mind on the subject of private dining-rooms, " you don't
believe in my discoveries ? As I said just now, 1 don't
blame you. 1 didn't believe in them myself till you told
me my poor Camilla was dead. Now 1 am sure ; but
at the same time I am going to convince myself by
evidence such as will convince you. I have a very
clear conception of the situation of the rooms in which
the tragedy took place, and I intend to draw a plan of
them and to write out an accompanying description.
I shall make this in duplicate, and I shall give you one
copy, retaining the other myself. Then I shall go to
Annapolis in a day or two — and I'd like you to go along
— ^and inspect the place. If it agrees with my descrip-
tion, you'll admit that there may be something in my
vision, won't you ?"

" Yes," answered Jack, unhesitatingly. ** If your
written description agrees with the reality, I shall be
very much disposed to believe in the rest."

CHAPTEE XV.

THE BASILISK AND THE WEASEL.

cc

Now give me a sheet of paper and pen and ink,"
said Mr. Oldmixon, ^' and while you read the morning
papers, I'U make my diagrams."

Jack rang the bell, and ordered the articles in ques-
tion.

'' Now," he said to the servant, '* you can draw away
that table, and don't let any one come up here again;
and don't come yourself unless I ring."

'* Very well, sir," answered the man, gathering the
breakfast things together.

After he had gone Jack arranged the materials on the
table, and betaking himself to his newspaper, left his
uncle to draw the plans which he had in his mind as
representing the topographical features of the rooms in
the hotel at Annapolis.

^* You must know, Jack," said the old gentleman,
after he had been at work a few minutes, '' that I have
never been to Annapolis. I was bom in Baltimore, as
you know, but 1 was brought to New York when a
baby by the removal of my parents to this city. There-
fore my ideas of the place have no other source than the
perceptions that occurred to me at Saratoga. How
are Government 4s ?"

*^ An advance of one eighth since yesterday."

" Good ! If you have any money to invest, put it
10*

226

MR. OLDMLXON.

in Governments. "When tliey get to be bad the bottom
will be out of everything else. "

After another five minutes or so he suddenly inquired :

" Jack, did you ever see a basilisk ?"

Jack laughed. " No," he answered ; '' I don't think
I ever did."

'' Well, you never will, for there's no such thing. I
am aware that there is a species of lizard, having a
membranous bag on the top of the head, to which the
name is applied. It lives partly on the land and partly
on the water, but it has no right to the designation."

^* What does he mean by that kind of talk ?" thought
Jack. ''Is he conscious that his mind is out of order,
and is he trying to divert my attehtion or to mystify me
in some way ?"

''The basilisk," continued Mr. Oldmixon, " was a
fabulous beast invented by the ancients. You will find
a full account of it in Pliny's ' Natural History.' Or if
you propose to read it in the original," laughing as he
spoke, ' ' I have in my library a beautiful edition, printed
at Treviso in 1479, and ornamented with illuminated
capitals. I was reading it this morning. Liber VIII.
Capitulum XXI.

" I suppose there was no such animal," he went on,
after Jack had disclaimed all intention of trying to read
Pliny's description of the basilisk in the original Latin,
" but that the ancients meant the account of it to typify
a particular kind of a man, so low, so vile, so disgustingly
fearful, that there was no living animal to which he could
be compared. So they invented the basilisk, and when
they found a creature having the external characteristics
of a man, but yet in his character so despicable, infamous,
abject, villainous, and incarnately devilish that it would

THE BASILISK AND THE WEASEL. 227

be a libel on the haman species to consider him a man,
they called him a basilisk. Well, that's what Hogarch
is."

'' So," thought Jack, ^' that's what he was after. I
don't know what to make of him. He appears to me to
be at once one of the most benevolent and one of the
most diabolical of men ; one of the wisest and one of
the most foolish."

But Mr. Oldmixon had not yet finished with the basi-
lisk, and Jack's thoughts were again interrupted by his
uncle's remarks relative to this mythical animal.

'' The basilisk, " he said, still going on with his drawing
and writing, ^* was a kind of serpent inhabiting the
deserts of Africa. It had a sharp-pointed head with
fiery eyes, and was nearly black in color. All other
snakes got out of its way, and were frightened at the
hissing sound it made. It killed everything it touched,
and plants and animals died if only its breath reached
them."

'^ What a horrid creature !" exclaimed Jack, laughing.

^' Horrid creature I" returned Mr. Oldmixon. '' You
may well say that. But that's the sort of a beast
Hogarth is. To call him a dog, a snake in the grass, a
wolf in sheep's clothing, a vulture, would be to insult
animals that are i^espectable when compared to him.
Therefore I call him a basilisk.

" I'll soon be done now, and then we'll see who's right
about this matter. I venture to say that when we go to
Annapolis we'll find things exactly as I've put them
down here."

" It will be a very remarkable circumstance if we do,"
said Jack, his interest at last thoroughly awakened.

" And then you'll have to admit that I have some

228

MR. OLDMIXON,

grounds for saying that Hogarth murdered his wife, and
that I am justified in running him down to his death."

*' I don't know about that, Uncle Victor. I should
not like to see my brother die on the gallows, no matter
how wicked he might be."

'*Not if he had murdered the woman you loved!"
exclaimed Mr. Oldmixon, rising in his excitement and
pacing the floor hurriedly. '' 1 don't know that you are
in love — for special reasons very important in their
nature I hope you are not — or that you have ever been.
It may be difiicult, therefore, for you to sympathize with
me in this matter. It is only those that have suffered
that can feel for another's woes."

^' I think," answered Jack, ^' that it was a dreadful
thing for Hogarth to lose his wife, and the sudden way
in which she died makes it all the more terrible ; but
even if he killed her it appears to me that we are not the
ones to secure his punishment."

^' Speak for yourself, Jack — speak for yourself ! By
the by, did you ever see a weasel ?"

''Well, Uncle Victor," said Jack, laughing again, in
spite of himself, '' you have the most astonishing way
of unexpectedly changing the conversation, of any person
I ever met. As to the weasel, I suppose I have seen it,
but 1 can't distinctly recollect at this moment. I have
no very clear conception as to what kind of an animal it
is, except that I have an idea that it never sleeps. Isn't
there a saying about ' catching a weasel asleep ' ?"

'' Yes, that's the weasel. It's remarkable for its
sharpness, agility, quickness of action, and perseverance,
and it is so distinguished for these qualities that the
common people have a notion that it does not sleep ;
hence the proverb ' catch a weasel asleep ! ' applied to

THE BASILISK AND THE WEASEL. 229

men that are always ready — on the qui vive — for what-
ever may turn up. 1 suppose weasels, however, do sleep,
though no one ever seems to have caught one in that
state. Jack, I'm a weasel."

As Mr. Oldmixon spoke these last words he dropped
his pen, and rose from his chair, with two half sheets of
paper in his hand. He had made the diagram and
explanations, and also a copy for Jack.

If Mr. Oldmixon had begun the renewal of his
acquaintance with his nephew by saying that he was a
weasel, Jack would certainly have been astonished ; but
now the observation produced no more effect upon him
than to cause him to wait with some little interest for
the explanation that was certain to come. It had already
been given in part by the fact that the old gentleman had
called attention to certain qualities of the animal in ques-
tion which would be valuable in a detective ; and when
he stated that he was a weasel he meant Jack to under-
stand that he intended to pursue Hogarth to the very
end, with all the astuteness and perseverance he could
bring to bear. But he perceived, from his uncle's man-
ner, that there was something else that likened him to
a weasel, and that was yet to be mentioned. He did
not have long to wait.

^' Yes, 1 am a weasel," repeated Mr. Oldmixon.
" The weasel is one of the most remarkable animals that
a wise and a beneficent Providence has seen fit to place
on the earth. Jack, it was the only animal that was able
to kill the basilisk. You will find it all in Pliny.
Hogarth is the basilisk, I am the weasel. I shall kill
him. No, no," he continued, seeing the look on Jack's
face, " don't misunderstand me ; Pm not going to take his
life with these hands, but I am going to bring him to

230

MB. OLDMIXON.

his death for that murder in Annapolis. Now, take this
paper and follow me while I describe the one I retain.
They are exactly alike. If not, please call my attention
to any diflferences that may exist."

Jack took the paper, and while his uncle spoke studied,
with the most absorbing interest, the diagram drawn upon
it. Here, at least, he thought was something that ad-
mitted of verification.

(Jack's copy came into my possession not long ago,
and I am therefore enabled to produce it for the more
complete elucidation of the subject.)

9

I

'' There were two rooms," began Mr. Oldmixon, " of
about equal size. Each fronted on the street, and each
had two windows. The one marked A appeared to be a
sitting-room ; the one marked B was a bedroom. The
entrance to the room A was at a, and the entrance to the
room JB at h. The fireplace in the room A was at c,
and that of room B Sit d. At e smd f were wardrobes ;

THE BASILISK AND THE WEASEL. 231

that in room A was of modem workmanship, and was
made of mahogany, but that in room JS was smaller, and
was an old piece of furniture, made of oak, black now
and with a brass ball at each one of the upper corners.
At ff in room J5 was the bed, and at A in room vi a round
table with a yellow marble top. At i in room JB was the
dressing-bureau, at k h the washstands, and at Z Z in room
A trunks. There were several chairs in each room, but
I do not give their positions, as they have probably been
changed. One, however, I do give. At m in room A
Camilla sat in a rocking-chair, and the window at which
Hogarth stood is marked n. The doorway between the
two rooms is marked o. Now, does your diagram
coincide with mine ?"

''Yes, exactly," answered Jack, glancing over the
two, as Mr. Oldmixon laid his on the table. " They are
alike in all essential respects. It is all very wonderful
that you should have such a distinct impression of a
place that you have never seen."

'' Yes, but it will be still more wonderful if, when we
arrive in Annapolis and visit that hotel, we shall find that
I have described those rooms without making a single
mistake. 1 don't ask you to believe anything till 1
prove it. Perhaps you are right to be sceptical. The
man's your brother, and my information comes in a queer
way.

" Now, let me show you how the wretch did the horrid
deed. Take your diagram, and follow me.

" Camilla sat in the chair at m," he read, '' and the
basilisk stood at the window at n. She was rocking
herself. Suddenly he turned, bounded toward her,
seized her, and carried her through the doorway o and
threw her on the bed g. He stuffed the handkerchief

232 MR. OLDMIXON.

into her mouth just as he reached the bed. There were
two pillows on that bed. He took the one nearer the
door, and as her face lay towai'd him he pressed this
pillow against it, and held it there for probably three
or four minutes — ^until, in fact, she ceased to struggle.

'' Is that the way it reads in your copy ?"

*' Yes, word for word."

*^ Very well. Now, take care of it, and get ready to go
with me to Annapolis Monday next. I would leave to-
night, but 1 have some business that will keep me for
two or three days. 1 suppose Hogarth is in town."

" Yes, Brooks said he had seen him, and I saw him at
the funeral."

"Jack, my boy," said Mr. Oldmixon, after a few
minutes' pause, during which he had appeared to be
exercising his mind very deeply over something — " Jack,
my boy," he repeated, with a little tremor in his voice,
'' you wouldn't betray your old uncle, I'm sure. What
has passed and what is to pass between you and me is
sacred."

'' What you have said tome," interrupted Jack, *^ and
what you may hereafter say, and everything connected
with the subject we have discussed this morning will
never reach Hogarth through me."

" Thank you, Jack. That is just what I expected of
you. My dear boy," leaning over the table and looking
at his nephew with an expression of the most intense
cunning on his countenance, *^ I'm going to resume
relations with Hogarth."

" What, after all that you've said against him ?"

*' Yes. That's the reason 1 want to have him about
me. Don't you see, my dear boy ?"

Jack was for a moment speechless. He. could only

THE BASILISK AND THE WEASEL. 233

look at his uncle astonished, almost awed, by this new act
in the drama.

''You are a little bewildered, I see, my dear boy,"
said the old gentleman, blandly. '^ But what else can
I do ? The weasel cannot catch the basilisk unless the
weasel and the basiUsk are brought together! Of course
no one but myself saw Hogarth kill his wife, and the
source of my information is such that it would not be
received in a court of justice. I have but one way of
proceeding, and that is to make the scoundrel confess ;
and that, by the blessing of God, 1 intend to force him to
do. You know, dear boy, that alienists tell us that there
is very little diflference between insanity and genius.
You shall decide, after I get through with this job,
whether I am a lunatic or an exemplification of that
rare form of mental development to which we apply
the word genius. "

" You must be your own judge. Uncle Yictor," said
Jack, ^' of your own conduct and of its propriety ; but
don't ask me to play the hypocrite with Hogarth. I
cannot forget how he has treated me all these yeara, and
1 do not propose to forget it till he has atoned for it by
expressing his regret ; but I can't in cold blood act the
traitor."

'' Do as you please ! do as you please I Only don't, by
word or deed, interfere with me. Now, let's drop him
and his misdeeds, for I have something to tell you that
more intimately concerns you.

'^ 1 have made my will," he continued, '^ and 1 have
left everything I possess in the world to you."

'^ I hope I appreciate your goodness to me, Uncle
Victor," said Jack, much moved by this evidence of
regard, " but — "

234 MR. OLDMIXON.

" Yes, yes ; I know what you are going to say, bnt
it would be no use for you to ask me to give anything
to Hogarth. I'll never do it. But, Jack," and again
the look of cunning and shrewdness came over his face,
'' if you should hear that I have made a new will and
left my estate to Hogarth, don't be surprised, and don't
believe it. You understand, don't you ?"

'^ Yes," answered Jack, '' 1 think I do. You intend
to circulate such a report yourself, in order to deceive
Hogarth."

" Sharp boy ! sharp boy !" exclaimed Mr. Oldmixon,
rubbing his hands together. " 1 shall say nothing.
You can imagine what you please. But you're improv-
ing, Jack. I should not wonder if, in a short time, you
get to be as sharp as your old uncle. Ha ! ha ! ha 1"
and Mr. Oldmixon laughed uproariously.

Jack muttered something about such a thing being
impossible.

^^ Now," resumed Mr. Oldmixon, '' 1 took an inventory
of my estate yesterday, and 1 find that I am worth, at
present valuation, seven hundred and sixty-five thousand
dollars, besides an insurance on my life for twenty-five
thousand, which brings the total close up to eight hundred
thousand. It's not much of a pile. Jack, as piles go in
these days, but it's not a bad plum by any means. It
yields me an income of a little over forty thousand a year.

'' Well, my boy, I was seventy-five last birthday, and,
in the ordinary course of nature, I can't hold out much
longer. I missed my chance for being hanged, I don't
intend to blow my brains out, I mean to take care that
Hogarth doesn't smother me, so that there is nothing
left but a natural death, and that may come now at any
moment."

THE BASILISK JlKD THE WEASEL. 235

" A man with your good health and good habits,"
said Jack, '' may expect to live up to his expectancy, as
the insurance companies put it. You have a good long
lease of hfe before you yet."

'^ No, no, my boy 1" observed Mr. Oldmixon, with a
melancholy shake of the head. " I'm not in good
health. 1 don't go round complaining like most of
the old hacks you meet, but, in spite of my good looks,
I'm standing on the brink of a volcano, and the least
false step may cause me to fall into the crater. A man
with a heart like mine is never safe.

'^ However," he went on, *'I have something more
important than my death to talk about. Do you ever
think of getting married. Jack ?"

Jack blushed scarlet at this direct question.

'^ I see you have," said his uncle, who had been watch-
ing him closely. ''Your face speaks for you. Well,
my boy, it's nothing to be ashamed of. Every young
man ought to get married, and the sooner the better.
I've done my duty in trying. Forty-three times. Jack,
have 1 made the attempt to get a wife, and here I am
nearly seventy-six years of age, and still an old bachelor."

'' I can't think you have faced the matter with your
usual energy," said Jack, with a smile.

" Well, well, perhaps not. 1 might have gone
farther and fared worse. Ha I ha I But to go on :
Thinking as I do about the advants^es of matrimony to
a young man, you will not be surprised when I tell you
that I have made it a condition of your becoming my
heir that you shall marry within one year of my
decease."

'' You may be putting me off for a long time, uncle,"
said Jack, laughing. '' Suppose you should live ten or

236 MB. OLDMIXON.

twelve years yet — as 1 hope and trust you may — ^am I
to remain single during all that time ?"

" No J no ; you misunderstand me ; you can marry
as soon before my death as you please — a year after
that event is the extreme limit. But the matter would
not make much practical difierence. 1 shall not live
over a year at the outside. I am glad that you approve
of the condition, for you take a load off my mind.
There's only one thing more."

" What's that, uncle ?"

*' It's a delicate subject, Jack, I admit, but it's one in
which my whole soul is interested. 1 have recently
become acquainted with a lovely gi^l, gentle, intelligent,
respectable. I want her for my daughter, and I want
you to help me by making her your wife.' '

'' I'm afraid I can't oblige you in that matter," said
Jack, with decision and frankness, " for I have recently
become . attached to a lady whom I intend soon to ask
to become my wife."

"Give her up. Jack, or at least don't deny my re-
quest till you have made the acquaintance of the lady I
refer to."

" It would be quite useless for me to become acquaint-
ed with the lady you have in your mind," said Jack,
emphatically, " for I shall never renounce the one I
love till she tells me that there is no hope for me."

" O Jack, Jack ! is the chief object of my life to be
defeated through your obstinacy ?"

" If the chief object of your life is to marry me to a
woman I do not know and have never even to my
knowledge seen, I am quite sure that it will never be
realized."

'* I counted on you, Jack, so fondly," said Mr. Old-

THE BASILISK AND THE WEASEL. 237

mixon, inonmf ally. ^' You have made me very unhappy,
my boy. Still, I do not despair yet of bringing you to
my views. Ton will not refuse to meet the lady, I
suppose ?"

'' No, Uncle Victor ; I will refuse to meet no one that
you desire me to know. It would be a deception, how-
ever, if I were to let you think that meeting this lady
will incline me to accept your proposition, that I shall
marry her."

^' Are you really very much in love. Jack ?"

'^ Yes, uncle, I think I am."

*' Is the lady beautiful?"

^' She is to me the loveliest woman I have ever beheld.
She has one of those speaking faces that send an
impression into your heart that stays there forever."
Have you known her long ?"

Not very long ; long enough, however, to be very
much in love with her, and to paint her portrait."

*' Oh, you've painted her portrait ! 1 don't think it's
exactly the thing for a painter to fall in love with a
woman who comes to him to have her portrait taken."

*' But I didn't, and she didn't. I mean, 1 didn't fall
in love with her because I painted her portrait, but I
painted her portrait because I fell in love with her."

^' Oh, that was the way of it !"

" Yes, that's the way it was."

'' I should like to see this wonderful woman."

" 1 will show you her portrait first, and then you can
judge whether or not it will be worth while for you to
see her. May I ask," he inquired, " who the lady is that
you have done me the honor of selecting to be my wife ?"

'^ What is the good of your knowing anything about
her ? Didn't you just tell me it would be no use for you

6i
6i

238 MB. OLDMIXON.

to make her acquaintance, for that you could not give up
your present attachment ?"

*^ Yes, uncle ; on that account it would be useless ; but
for your sake, as I just said, I am willing to make her
acquaintance."

*' I don't see what good could come of talking about
her under the present circumstances. Her name is not
one that you have probably ever heard. She is not in
your station of life, as the saying is, though, so far as
I can see, she's as good as any one. So, if 1 were to tell
you her name before you see her, it would very likely
prejudice you against her. "

'^ I should not object on the score of what is called
social position, if she were desirable as a wife in every
other way. Shall 1 tell you who the lady is that 1 wish
to marry ?"

^' What's the use. Jack ? 1 should only feel more
uncomfortable about the matter. But, my dear boy,
do you distinctly understand that your becoming my
heir is contingent on your marriage to the lady I have
selected within one year from the date of my decease,
if not before my death ?"

'* Yes, uncle ; but I should think very meanly of my-
self if 1 could be influenced by such a consideration,
and I should think equally meanly of you if you thought
I could be so influenced."

Jack's blood was up at last. He had been indisposed
to resent, more than by a positive refusal, his uncle's
scheme to marry him to a woman that he did not know ;
but now that the matter was put so clearly and signifi-
cantly before him, he intended that there should be no
doubt as to where he stood and what he meant to do ;
so he added :

THE BASILISK AND THE WEASEL. 239

iC

And if my position as your heir depends upon my
acceptance of a wife of your choosing, I desire you to
omit my name from your will, for my mind is quite
made up on the matter; and even if it were not," he
continued, warming with his subject, '' 1 should make
my own selection, regardless of all the heirships in the

universe."

a

By heavens 1 my boy, I like you for that !" ex-
claimed Mr. Oldmixon. '^ Even if you do disappoint me,
and you do not become my heir, let us be friends, Jack,"
holding out his hand, which his nephew cordially grasped.
'' I shall not change my will. If you comply with the
conditions, you will get the estate ; if you do not, it will
go to her. Perhaps, after all, you may change your
mind."

Jack smiled incredulously, but said nothing.

The utterance of a single word — a word that each
wished to speak — would have destroyed the misunder-
standing existing between these two. It is not the only
instance within my experience in which two persons
have earnestly desired the same thing, and yet each
thought the other desired a different thing, and in which
one word, spoken by either, would have led to a perfect
understanding and the avoidance of an infinitude of
sorrow.

TTL

r .r,mz jma

Ind

I if^x^j^^^ ^cuqrrT^jg "^"c* & -zjsxras of m mile on Long
hlauii ifKz/L icri nz. back 4^«:4z: raZf a mile to die nil-

T^ LoaK v^tf luhced oq an eievaxioii a few hmidied
j«irli f rcAQ tl^ waser. a rue aad viiat bad onoe been a
w^tUkefK la'VT^ wiih a ncf of over a bmidred jean,
exU^nding down to a sea-vall tbat bomided tbe entiie
w^tUfT^fnmt. It bad at one time formed part of a Liige
tnud owned bjr tbe De Villon faunilv, Hngaenots, who
Wf^e part of a large party wbo, in tbe tronblons times
at tijo [period of the revocation of tbe Edict of Nantes,
liiul flf^^i from France to find a refnge on tbis side of the
Atlantic Ocean.

The IjouBc occupied the exact spot upon which the
original Do Villon had built his residence. This latter,
afl^jr Htanding in good condition for over a hundred
,ynarH, wan tf>ni down by Colonel Guy de Villon some

II fly yoarn l>oforo Mr. Henschel appeared upon the
prninlMOM, atid a well-appointed stone structure, that
looktul HM thotigli it would stand till the end of time,
\\\u\ Uh)u oni(!tod on tiio foundations.

It wim iiHcu^rtaiiuul that these could not be improved,
tlu\V bning fur luoii) solid than such as are made in our
\h\y^ m) l.lu\v woro utilized as far as possible.

"l COULD NEVEB MABEY HIM, FATHER.'' 241

The walls of the new house, therefore, stood on the old
stone work, except that at each end Colonel Guy de Yil-
lon had added a wing, thereby very considerably increas-
ing the capacity of the new building over that of the
original structure.

For several years the house had been uninhabited.
The De Villous had left it many years ago to reside in
New York, and then tenant after tenant had occupied it,
each for only a short time, for there were ugly stories
afloat relative toitsunhealthfulness. It was said, among
other things, that no family had ever lived in it a year
without one or more of its members dying, and that
sickness had begun almost immediately after occupancy.

As an explanation of this bad sanitary condition, it
was alleged that the first De Villous had used the cellar
as a mortuary vault, and that several dead bodies had
been buried there. Another, and perhaps a still more
powerful reason why the house had remained for nearly
thirty years without an occupant was the beUef , gener-
ally prevalent in the neighborhood, that it was haunted.
Nothing so effectually conduces to the depreciation of
the value of real estate as a well-authenticated story of
this kind, and the story of the supernatural doings in
the De Villon mansion rested upon testimony as strong
as any that had ever before been offered in support
of a like allegation. Not only had mysterious sounds
been heard, but mysterious objects had been seen, felt,
and smelt. Thus there had been moans, knocks, and,
most wonderful of all, a bugle blast, or what sounded
like it, coming apparently from the cellar precisely as the
clock struck twelve.

Pale and dishevelled women had been seen by the

passers-by flitting from window to window, clasping
11

242 MB. OLDMIXON.

their hands as though in an agony of grief, and tearing
their hair in the intensity of their snflEerings. Similar
figures had been seen by the occupants walking in the
long halls and passages, or sitting sometimes in front of
the fire.

They had been felt, for young Tompkins, whose
father had, many years ago, declared that he was not
afraid, and that he and his family would live in the
house, had, on returning late at night from a convivial
party at New Eochelle, been seized by one of these
dishevelled women and led by the wrist down into the
cellar, where he was found the next morning more dead
than alive, and fully convinced that the house was
haunted. Nothing, he declared, would induce him to
pass another night under its roof, and shortly afterward,
other signs being produced, Mr. Tompkins and his family
had moved out. And they had been smelt ; or, at least,
odors more or less resembling those that are popularly
supposed to baindicative of the proximity of supernatural
beings, inasmuch as they were sulphurous and phosphor-
ous in character, had been wafted through the house in
a way that defied explanation. As there was no other
apparent source of these awful smells, the conclusion
was inevitable that they were due to the presence of beings
that had not yet entirely gotten rid of their corporeality.

All the senses — sight, hearing, touch, and smell — ex-
cept that of taste appeared to unite in supplying evidence
of the existence of ghostly dwellers in the De Villon
manor house. The fact that tliis one sense furnished
no testimony ought not, of course, to have militated in
the slightest degree against the prevalent beh'ef, for how
in the world can a ghost be tasted ? People don't run
round, even when they are scared, and it is midnight,

*^I COULD KEVEE MAERY HIM, FATHEE." 243

with their tongues lolling ont of their mouths, searching
for ghosts ; and no being of the kind has ever been
known to jump down a person's throat, no matter how
wide open the jaws may have been.

There is evidence tendmg to show that demoniacal
personages of various degrees of eminence in the infer-
nal hierarchy have entered the human body by the
mouth, and have, under the influence of the forms for
exorcism prescribed by the Church, departed through
the same channel ; but even if the possessed had been
in a frame of mind to exercise the sense of taste, I
respectfully submit that devils are not ghosts. Yes,
it will have to be admitted without further question
that no one has ever tasted a ghost — ^that is, the spirit of
a person once a dweller on earth.

The matter, however, was not discussed in any degree
of captiousness by the citizens of Westchester County,
in the State of New York, whose destiny had made
them neighbors of the De Yillon property, for nearly
every one admitted that the stories told of the old house
were true. In fact, there was but one sceptic, and he
was a physician, who not only did not credit the tales
of the ghostly dwellers of the De Villon mansion, but
was generally thought not to believe in anything.

It was in vain, however, that old Dr. Maddox
denounced the faithful believers with all the vigor of
which he was capable and in language scarcely fitted for
ears polite.

It was in vain that he declared that there were no
dead bodies buried in the cellar ;. that the deaths that
had occurred were due to bad drainage ; that the diaboli-
cal smells had the same origin, and that Dick Tompkins
was as drunk as a fool when he had come home that

244 HB. OLDMIXON.

night and imagined that a ghost had led him into the
cellar.

It was in vain that he declared that the pale and di-
shevelled women seen at the windows were some old
muslin curtains that had been left there, and that all
the rest was imagination, controlled by fear.

Whenever have statements such as these made by
unbelievers had any influence in convincing those whose
minds are governed by faith, not fact ? Never, so far
as I know.

So the reputation of the De Yillon manor house re-
mained unchanged, very much to the disgust of the
representative of the family and present owner, who
could neither rent nor sell it.

But the bad name did not extend to the whole prop-
erty, comprising at one time more than three thousand
acres.

Little by little this had been disposed of, till now
nothing remained but the house and about sixty acres
around it. This it was that Mr. Henschel had bought.

Originally he had contemplated purchasing a smaller
piece of ground, with a much more humble house, but
Dr. Maddox had called his attention to the De Villon
property, that could be had for a mere song, and that
only required the expenditure of a few hundred dollars
on the drainage to make it as healthy a residence as any
on the Sound. As for the ghosts, he knew his old
friend Henschel was not such an ass as to believe in
them.

"You can get it," said the doctor, " for ten thousand
dollars — you can sell it in five years for sixty thousand
or more. I would have bought it long ago myseM but
for the facts that I am an old bachelor with no one to

"r COULD NEVBB MABEY HIM, FATHEB." 245

leave it to when I die, and that I have as much now,
in the way of wealth, as I want."

The consequence was, that Mr. Henschel and Barbara
had made a visit to the place, and after a thorough exam-
ination, in company with Dr. Maddox, had bought it of
the agent for the sum of nine thousand dollars, Mr. Hen-
schel oflEering eight, and the agent finally lowering his
price to nine, or, as he said, ^^ splitting the difference."

'' That thousand dollars," remarked Mr. Henschel to
Barbara, as they drove to the railway station on their
way back to down, " will about pay for the new drainage
the house wants. What do you think of it, Bab ?"

'' I think we shall be very happy there, father. It's
a fine old house, but very large for us two."

" Yes, it's large ; but there's never any harm in look-
ing ahead. You'll marry some day or other, perhaps,
and I shall only allow you to do so on condition that
you don't leave me."

" O father, how can you think of such a thing !"

*^ How can I think of it, my dear ? Didn't 1 have
to make constant efforts not to think of it when that
young professor was down here from Cornell, and was
making excuses for coming every day to see you ?' '

" But I couldn't have married him, father, because,
because — "

" Yes, 1 know, you sent him off. I suppose you
didn't care for him, but he would liave been a good
match for you. Still, as things go — "

" Not if I didn't love him, father ?"

^^ Oh, no, of course not ; but I would have been well
pleased if you could have loved him, my dear."

" It was impossible ; I don't think I shall ever care
enough for any man to marry him.'*

246 MR. OLDMIXON.

She spoke these last words as though they were a
thought expressed aloud, and not intended for any one
to hear.

If Mr. Henschel heard them, he took no notice of
them.

" Then, there's Peter," resumed Mr. Henschel.

^^ Yes,'' she answered, with a little laugh, "there's
Peter ; but he is uneducated ; you surely would not like
me to marry Peter ?"

'' No, no, my dear, I did not say I would ; I only
mentioned his name as one of those you could have, by
simply giving him a chance to ask you. But there's
still another, Mr. Oldmixon."

" The old gentleman 1" exclaimed Barbara, laughing
again, but this time more than before, and coloring a
little. '' I haven't seen him since the day he told me of-
his troubles ; I shall probably never see him again, and
he's seventy-five years old."

" Ah 1 but, my dear, I didn't mean the old gentle-
man, as I suspect you know very well. I meant the
youngs one, who's painting our portraits and workshop.
How about him, Bab ?"

" Nothing is so entirely out of the question as my
marrying him," answered Barbara, very gravely. " Mr.
Oldmixon is pleasant enough to talk to, but he is not
the man I could marry, even if I were the woman he
would care to marry."

"I am sure he cares for you, my dear; I haven't
reached my age without learning the value of glances
and smiles and words and actions. He's been coming
now every day for the last week. When will he finish ?' '

" Probably to-morrow ; but if he cares for me in the
way you think, 1 shall let him understand that it is no

"l COULD KEVER MARRY HIM, FATHER." 247

use. I like him as a friend, but I couldn't marry him
if he was the only man in the world."

''Why not, my dear? He's handsome, correct in
his conduct — ^that I can see, too — making a name for
himself very rapidly, able to take care of you, and if he
shoTild love you,"what more could you ask ?"

'' I could never marry him, father ; it is impossible.
We cannot probably always tell ourselves why we
arrive at certain conclusions relative to persons of our
acquaintance ; why we like some and dislike others, and
so on. You know, father, 1 talk to you very frankly ; I
suppose if 1 had a mother 1 should speak to her as I
speak to you. 1 see that you would be pleased to have
me married to Mr. John Oldmixon. It can never be !
Never ! I like him very much ; I take pleasure in his
society — I would not wish to be cut o£E from it — but that
is all ; as to marrying him, it is out of the range of
possibility. Besides, 1 am very sure he has never
thought of me in that way."

*' Well, well, perhaps I am mistaken. Shall 1 ask
him to visit us at our new house ?"

''If he shows that he would like to come I see no
reason why you should not. Ton like him, I like him.
One is not bound to marry any gentleman that one likes."

So, as the reader knows, the invitation had been
given and accepted.

It took a couple of weeks to put the old house in such
a sanitary condition as to make it safe for the Henschels
to move into it. It was in good repair in every other
respect, except that here and there a pane of glass was
broken and the plaster needed mending, and then, of
course, it was entirely without furniture.

They decided not to do more at present than to

248

ME. OLDMIXON.

fumisli the main building, and indeed there was more of
this than they had need for, there being four large
rooms on each of the two floors. Bnt, as Mr. Henschel
said, he was not going to confine himself and his daughter
to quarters as narrow as those they had occupied for so
many years in New York. Peter had agreed with his
capitalist, and Mr. Henschel had received his own price
for the stand and the business, so that he was that much
better off, in the way of ready money, than he had been
before. There was no need for them to stint themselves.
He was not what is called rich, but he had enough to
make him and his daughter comfortable, without the
necessity for either of them turning their hands to any
labor for the purpose of getting money by it.

So the house was well furnished, and many little
luxuries of a kind that they had never been accustomed
to were added, in the expectation that it would be ren-
dered still more attractive, as they were made happier,
by experiencing the sense of possession and by the con-
templation of objects that were in themselves beautiful.

^' It's only an investment," Mr. Henschel said, when
talking with Barbara about some Kussian, French, and
American bronzes he had purchased for the new home,
and which had cost a considerable sum of money.

^' They're not only beautiful to look at, but they'll
serve you for study, my dear, now that you are going to
become a sculptor. For a little while, that is," he
added. " I had a conversation with Mr. Maurice yester-
day, and he said all you wanted from him was a knowl-
edge of how to use the tools and the material, and that
you would learn that in a very short time. You'll teach
them all after a while."

^^ Ah ! father," she answered, ^'that remains to be

"I COULD NEVER MAEBT HIM, FATHEE." 249

seen. When do 1 take my first lesson from Mr. Mau-
rice?"

^* Well, I think we had better get fairly settled in the
new house first. I suppose that will take a couple of
weeks yet ; then you can take the south-west room on
the second story — the one just behind your bedroom —
and fit it up as a studio. You can have 4hat side of the
second floor, and I'll take the other side. I think I'd
like to practice a little taxidermy now and then, just to
keep my hand in. By the by, Bab, you haven't given
the place a name yet."

^' Am I expected to name it, father ?"

^' Of course ; I always intended that."

" Then I'll call it ^ Lasata.' "

** And what in the world may be the meaning of
Lasata ?"

" It's a name I heard on the Plains. An Indian
woman used it in speaking to me, and the interpreter
explained to me that it meant * the place where you
rest after hard work.' "

'' Admirable, my dear, from one point of view, but
there will not be much rest for you, I'm afraid. People
with your mental organization never rest till the grave
closes over them. They change the form of their work,
but that is all ; however, Lasata it shall be."

So they left the house in New York and took posses-
sion of the one they had agreed to call Lasata. The
sign remained over the old shop, but above it appeared
another, with smaller letters, bearing the inscription,
*' Dibble & Swain, Taxidermists, Successors to."

Nothing had been seen of Jack since he had finished

his picture. Every morning Barbara went in to Mr.

Maurice's studio and took her lesson in modelling and
11*

250 ME. OLDMIXOK.

in the use of the chisel. This gentleman had for many
years been a friend of her father's. He was nearly, if not
qnite, as old as Mr. Henschel, but for all that he was
capable of doing good work, and had recently execnted
a symbolical statue of " Argenta," in solid silver, for a
wealthy citizen of one of the mining States, that had been
highly praised in art circles. As a teacher he was un-
equalled. He not only took infinite pains with his
pupils, but he seemed to have the power of imbuing all
those possessed of any degree of receptivity with a por-
tion of his own genius. In Barbara he evinced from the
very beginning a great interest. She had all the art-
instinct that he liked to see in his pupils. And indeed,
as he had told her father, there was not much for him
to do beyond teaching her the techniqtie of the arts of
modelling and sculpture.

By eight o'clock every morning, except Sunday,
Barbara was at Mr. Maurice's studio, and here she
remained till four o'clock, when she took the train for
Mamaroneck, the more convenient station to Lasata,
though New Kochelle was nearer. Here her father
always met her in the little one-horse chaise that held
two, and which he drove himself, while Barbara sat by
his side. Usually before going home they took a little
drive up the road that ran along the Sound, for a mile
or two, and then turning off to the west brought them
into a thickly wooded and semi-mountainous district,
which was now rather barren of verdure, though it
was well stocked with evergreens, but which in the
spring, the summer, and the early autumn there was
every indication was as beautiful a region as one would
wish to see. It was generally quite dark when they got
home, for the winter was now upon them ; but the cool,

a

I COULD KEVER MARRY HIM, FATHER." 251

bracing evening air was a luxury that they did not care
to forego ; and then Mr. Henschel could not easily have
dispensed with the pleasure he received at hearing Bar-
bara's recital of her doings during her stay in the city.
What she was working at, what Mr. Maurice had talked
about, what she was likely to undertake next, and other
like matters were subjects about which he was never
weary of conversing. Then when they got home they
had dinner, and after that, while her father smoked his
pipe, in the room that they had fitted up as a library,
Barbara read sometimes aloud, or they talked, or she
played backgammon — of which he was very fond — with
him, till it was time to go to bed. There was very little
opportunity, therefore, for her to engage in any work of
her own in her studio. Occasionally, when she did not
feel tired, she would do a little at modelling in clay before
she went to bed, and in very bad weather, when she did
not go to town, she had a good long time to give to it.

They had been at Lasata somewhat over a week, and
yet nothing had been heard of young Mr. Oldmixon, as
they called him, till one morning, on arriving at the
studio, she found a note for her from Jack, which Mr.
Maurice told her had been left by the gentleman in
person, just after she had departed on the previous day.
It read :

^^ Dear Miss Henschel : I have been very much en-
gaged in looking after my uncle, who has not been well
for several days, and besides that I have been out of town
with him, and was detained nearly a week by his ill-
ness. I only got back yesterday, to find that you had
gone away from the old place. Mr. Swain was kind
enough to tell me that I would find you at Mr. Mau-

252 ME. OLDMIXON.

rice's studio every day till four o'clock. I write this
to leave, in case you have gone before I arrive, as I may
possibly be a few minutes late.

" I have not forgotten that I am under promise to tell
yon how I caught the silver fox. If you have still any
interest in hearing the wonderful story, let me know
what evening I shall come out to your new home and
tell it to you. Also at the same time inform. me how 1
am to get there, and at what hour I can get back.

" With my regards to your father, believe me, dear
Miss Henschel, Yours sincerely,

'* John Oldmexon.

"P. S. I gave Archer, who stands in the very front
rank of American painters, and who took a gold medal
at the Paris Salon last year, a peep at the * Taxidermists.'
He looked at it for fifteen minutes, then he turned
round, grasped my hand, and said, * Oldmixon, 1 would
rather have painted that picture than anything I have
ever done.' As to what he said about the portraits, I
shall have to keep that till I come to tell you how I
caught the silver fox. J. O."

Barbara was glad to hear from Jack. She had won-
dered for several days what had become of him, and she
had been disappointed that he had not called or sent a
message of any kind. Had her acquaintance with him been
of the ordinary description, she would not have troubled
herself to think of him ; but she recognized the fact that
it was something more than that. She had helped-
although he probably knew nothing of the circumstance
— to make him his uncle's heir, and their association,
while he was painting his picture, had been of so inti-
mate a character that she had learned a good deal about

**I COULD KEVEB MARRT HIM, FATHER. " 253

his disposition, his ways, his strong and weak points,
his acquirements, that had tended to make her regard
him as something more than a mere acquaintance. She
liked him, but she had never once thought of him as
a possible lover. She knew he was to be rich, and she
had formed the idea that he did not know this fact, and
that of itself would have operated as a bar to the
development of any stronger feeling in her heart than
that of friendship. It would have seemed to her as
though she were taking an imfair advantage of him.
No, she had never thought of him as a possible lover,
but she had thought of him as an impossible one, and
she had done so with regret and with the wish in her
heart that matters had been so ordered that she could
feel herself free to encourage Jack in making the demon-
strations of affection that she knew would come at the
slightest sign from her that they would be agreeable to
her.

She had made up her mind that it would be very
difficult, if not impossible, for her to maintain the course
that she had resolved to pursue, unless she was cut off
altogether from Jack's companionship. She had joined
in the invitation that her father had given, but she had
done so out of. politeness and from that desire, inherent
in her, never to say or do anything calculated to wound
the feelings of her friends. She had really, however,
at the time scarcely supposed that she would see much
of Mr. Jack Oldmixon, and she doubted if he would even
take the trouble to renew the acquaintance. Then she
had felt that it was strange when, after several days^
she heard nothing of him, that he had not called or
made some effort to find her ; and then she began to
think that he had not acted altogether well, and that

264 ME. OLDMIXOK.

something, if only courtesy, was due to herself and her
father.

This letter was at once an enlightenment and a solace to
her. It explained his absence, and it relieved her mind
of all her half -formed apprehensions that she and her
father, having served his purpose for his picture, were
no longer of suificient importance to him to cause him to
put himself to the trouble of making them a visit. Her
mind was busy all through her work that day with
reflections excited by this letter, and she read it over
two or three times, in order to be quite sure that she had
mastered all the meanings it was intended to convey.
It was a very frank and clearly written letter, and she
eventually arrived at the conclusion that there was no
occult significance in its lines. Evidently the writer
desired to renew the acquaintance, evidently he liked her,
and evidently if he once began coming to Lasata he
would continue to come, so long as he was permitted to
do so and things were made pleasant to him. Well,
she would not answer him till she had shown his letter
to her father.

The old man was at the station, waiting for her as
usual, and as usual they took their little drive before
proceeding home. She said nothing to him then about
what was on her mind, as she thought it would be
better to wait till after dinner, and he could, with his
pipe in his mouth, give his undivided attention to a
matter that struck her as being one of great importance.
Then, when that time arrived, she opened the subject in
the direct way that was a characteristic of her method
of dealing with all things, both great and small.

CHAPTER XYIL

'^ WELCOME TO LASATA !"

^TvE Lad a letter from Mr. John Oldmixon," said
Barbara, while her father was lighting his pipe prepara-
tory to sitting down to his evening newspaper.

'' Have you, Bab ? I've been wondering what had be-
come of him. ' '

'* He's been out of town, and his uncle has been ill ;
but here's his letter. I wouldn't answer it before let-
ting you read it, and deciding for me what kind of a re-
ply to make. ' '

Mr. Henschel's interest was at once excited. He
thought the communication was a proposal of marriage,
as almost any one else in his situation and with his knowl-
edge of the circumstances would also have thought, and
he instantly resolved that if this were the case he would
advise his daughter to accept the hand tendered her.
He was a practical jnan, not indisposed, however, to un-
derestimate the advantages of a marriage in which there
was love on both sides, but, at the same time, fully
aware of the temporal benefits likely to occur to his
daughter by a marriage with so eligible a parti as was
Mr. John Oldmixon. He took the letter and read it ;
and though there was a little disappointment at the fact
that his expectations were not realized, he was, neverthe-
less, well satisfied with it as an entering wedge to the con-
clusion he so greatly desired.

266 ME. OLDMIXON.

((

It's a nice letter, Bab," he said, handing it back to
her and rehghting his pipe — his engagement with the
letter having interfered with the combustion -process
necessary to the usefulness of this important source of
comfort — '^and such a one as a gentleman should write.
Not too effusive and not too formal. You haven't an-
swered it, I think you said ?"

*' No, father ; I didn't know exactly what to say. Ton
know he can't very well come up here in the evening
and go home that night. To do so would only give him
about a haK hour at the house."

^' And you'd like to have him longer, eh, Bab ?" said
Mr. Henschel, with a knowing laugh.

^^ I didn't say that, father," answered Barbara, with a
slight, very slight blush. " I was only thinking that it
would scarcely be worth his while to come here and then
have to hurry to avoid missing the train. Conversation
under such circumstances can never be satisfactory."

**True, true," said the old man, musingly. "Then
you had better invite him to stay all night."

"But we've no pl^ce to put him, father, and — and,"
she added, hesitatingly, " wouldn't it be going too far on
our slight acquaintance with Mr. Oldmixon to ask him
to pass a night in our house ?"

" I don't know exactly how that would be, my dear.
It won't do for us to be too forward with our invitations
to men who, like Mr. John Oldmixon, may think they
are better than we are, and — "

^'O father!" interrupted Barbara, alarmed at the
conclusion he had reached, and eager to defend Jack from
what she felt was an unjust imputation, "I didn't
mean that. I'm quite sure Mr. Oldmixon has never had
any such notion."

*' WELCOME TO LASATA !" 267

^^ Probably not, my dear. I didn't say he had, but we
can't be too much on our guard. We are proud people,
Bab. Our family does not rank with the great ones
either in Denmark or here, but we've always done our duty
in the stations to which we have been called, and if we
choose I doubt not could take our place among the
aristocracy in, this country. "We're respectable, and
we're rich— that is, rich enough," checking himself,
" and that's the thing that tells.

" But to go back to Mr. John Oldmixon," he con-
tinued, after a little pause, during which he puffed stren-
uously at his pipe, in the expectation apparently that the
more tobacco- smoke he got into his air-passages the
quicker he would reach a satisfactory conclusion on the
question under consideration — " to go back to him, I don't
think we shall run any risk of being repulsed by meeting
him half way. Therefore, write to him, my dear, and in-
vite him to come up on any evening that suits him and
to stay all night. Perhaps you had better give the invi-
tation in my name."

'' But we've no place to put him, father. You have
the two north rooms, and I have the two south

rooms."

^' Why not fit up the room behind this as a bedroom ?
We want a spare room, for we must expect to have a
guest with us occasionally. Yes, write, and I'll go to
town to-morrow and get furniture for the room. This
is Wednesday — ^well, Bab, what do you say to asking him
to come on Saturday afternoon and to stay over through
Sunday till Monday morning ? Would that be having
too much of him T '

Barbara laughed. " If you'll promise to do the most
of the entertaining, I have no objection," she answered.

268 MB. OLDMIXON.

" I think, however, that he will not be able to leave his
uncle for so long a time."

" Well, he must be the judge of that. So write your
letter, so that you can mail it in the city to-morrow.
He'll get it sooner than if you send it from here."

Barbara seated herself at the table, and in a few min-
utes handed her father the letter she had written.

" Dear Me. Oldmixon : You are very kind to write
and remind me of your promise to tell me how you caught
the silver fox. We shall be glad to see you, and father
bids me say that he will be very glad if you will come up
in the 4 p.m. train on Saturday and stay over till Monday
morning.

*' We are both sorry to hear of your uncle's illness, and
hope it is nothing serious.

" Hoping to see you Saturday evening, and informing
you that you will have the opportunity of escorting me if
you come in the 4 p.m. train, 1 am

^' Yours sincerely,

^' Babbara Henschel.' '

*' That will do," said Mr. Henschel, as having finished
reading the letter he handed it back to Barbara. ^* He'll
be sure to come in the four-o'clock train," he added,
laughing. *'I'll send Ben down with the carriage, and
you can drive him over while 1 stay at home to receive
the guest. Will that suit you ?"

^^ Any way of yours will suit me, father," said Barbara,
who felt in unusually good spirits. '* Now, shall I beat
you at backgammon ?"

They sat down to play, and they played many games,
but she did not beat him. On the contrary, she got but

"WELCOME TO LAS ATA !" 259

two or three games out of a dozen or more, and those she
won rather by persistent good luck than by good manage-
ment. In fact, her mind was not on the work before her.
She was thinking of the visit that was to be made to them
the following Saturday, and of what she should do toward
making the time pass pleasantly for the visitor. It was
rather too cold to go out on the water, even if the sun
should have the best sort of an opportunity for sending
down his rays to the earth, and the probability was that,
like most December days, Sunday would be bleak. She
might drive him around the country, or, better still, might
walk with him, for then her father could go along, and
she would not be under the necessity of being alone with
him. She dreaded this latter contingency. She was
afraid for herself — afraid that she would become more
deeply interested in him than would be conducive to her
happiness, for she had fully resolved that nothing should
persuade her to marry Mr. John Oldmixon ; and to love
a man that she could not marry would be misery to her.

And then this must be his last visit, as it would be
his first. On that point her mind was clear ; but she was
aware that it was one that she would have to argue with
her father, and that to gain it she would be obliged to
enter at length into her reasons.

Mr. Henschel never attempted to set himself in oppo-
sition to her fully matured and deliberately expressed
opinions ; but as he was a reasonable human being, and
one that specially prided himself on the logical manner
in which he exercised his intellectual faculties, it would
not do for her to simply say, ^' 1 prefer not to have Mr.
John Oldmixon come here again." She must be able to
give reasons for such a dogmatic utterance, and as she
was a sensible woman, and one not prone to act from

260 ME. OLDMIXON.

whim or caprice, it was in the highest degree probable
that her father, even if not convinced of the validity of
her arguments, would allow her to have her own way in
a matter that concerned no one so much as it did herself.

She had no very strong reasons for believing that Jack
loved her, but she had a dim suspicion, that he did. She
too, like her father, had observed looks and tones and
manner, all of which went to show that the young man's
feelings were deeply involved. Then had come this
letter, and that had tended to strengthen the misgiving
into almost a belief, else why should he seek her out
when there had been such an excellent opportunity for
him to pass out of the current of her life altogether ?

She finished her games of backgammon, and Mr. Hen-
schel, who was delighted — as all old people are when they
win games that they play merely for amusement — ^with
his success, and who had not noticed the fact that Bar-
bara's thoughts were not on her play, attributed the result
to his own skill and knowledge.

^' You don't play backgammon as well as you mount
animals, Bab," he said, laughing, as they stood together in
front of the fire before going up-stairs, ''and probably
not so well as you model. And as to modelling, didn't
you tell me a few days ago that you were about to begin
a new subject ? "What is it ?"

" It' s an animal, father. How the wind blows to-night I
I hope it is not storming on the Sound. I saw the steam-
ers go by awhile ago, one after the other, the big Fall
Eiver boat leading, and then the New London and the
Stonington boats following, with several smaller ones at
respectful distances."

''No, 1 don't think it is blowing very hard on the
Sound. I'll go out and look around a moment^ and

** WELCOME TO LASATA !" 261

you'll feel easier if I come back and tell yon there's no
danger of wrecks to-night/'

She looked worried. She did not feel apprehensive
about a storm on the Sound ; she had only been trying to
direct her father's attention from the subject she was
modelling ; and she had succeeded so thoroughly that he
was going out into the cold night air in order to be able to
assure her that there was no rough weather, and thus to
enable her to sleep with a mind free from apprehension.
This was more than she had bargained for, and more than
she could honestly accept.

"Ko, father dear," she said, laying her hand on his
arm and looking pleadingly into his face, " don't go out ;
it's cold — ^too cold for you to expose yourself. I'll tell
you what I am modelling. It's the silver fox, and I'm
doing it altogether from memory, for Mr. Oldmixon has
the specimen I mounted. It isn't storming on the Sound ;
it was scarcely fair in me to intimate that it was ; I only
said it," she continued, stroking his face with her hands
and smiling," to divert your attention, for I did not want
to tell you what I was modelling. I was afraid you would
think I had chosen to model, the silver fox because that
was the animal I moimted for Mr. Oldmixon, and —
and—"

"Never mind, you little witch," said Mr. Henschely
laughing heartily ; " it just shows how you can twist
your old father around your little finger. Tou could
make him believe that the moon's made out of green
cheese, if you were to try."

"She loves him," he continued to himself , after he
had bid her good-night and was crossing the upper hall
to his own room. " She may say what she pleases, but
she loves him. Probably she thinks she does not ; but I

262 MR. OLDMIXON.

know something of the ways of women. Well, well, I
hope so. I'll let her alone, and she'll do what's right ;
but I think she loves him, and there are very few women
that can resist that feeling when it comes up in their
hearts."

Preparations were at once made for Jack's visit. Mr.
Henschel spent the whole of the next day after the recep-
tion of the letter selecting furniture, and Barbara " knock-
ed off work," as she called it, two hours before her usual
time for stopping, in order that she might assist in the
selection of a rug for the floor, a brass bedstead, a dressing-
stand, a table, a luxuriously upholstered chair, and several
other articles that the emergency demanded. Then Bar-
bara suggested a book-rack for the table, and her father
was for going at once to get books to put into it ; but she
reminded him that she knew what books Mr. Oldmixon
liked best to look over in a desultory way, and that she
had them at home.

It was a long time, however, before they could suc-
ceed in finding a pedestal of the kind that Barbara had
set her heart on, and which she informed her father was
for the silver fox. ^^ I shall have it done by to-morrow
evening," she said, '^ and I suppose it might as well stand
in the spare room as anywhere else."

^* Oh, yes, by all means !" replied her father. ^^ That
is the best place for it when we have visitora ; at other
times we'll put it in the library."

And then Saturday came. The painter had touched
up several spots that required his services, and had paint-
ed the floor a dark chocolate color where it was not covered
by the Kensington rug ; the furniture was in place, some
extra preparations had been made in the way of eatables,
and last, but not least, the model in clay of the silver fox

*^ WELCOME TO LASATA !" 263

had arrived the night before, and had been set up on its
pedestal in the centre of the large bay-window that occu-
pied the greater part of the front of the house on that
side of the doorway. Mr. Henschel thought she had
been even more successful than with the mounted speci-
men, inasmuch as she had had more freedom for the exer-
cise of her artistic instinct in working the clay than in
moulding the skin of the dead animal. At any rate, she
had produced a work that was full of her genius, and that
Mr. Maurice, in a note to her father, said was sufficient
of itself to stamp her as an artist of the highest merit.
"I advise," he continued, "that it be cast in bronze.
The more works like that that are spread over the coun-
try, the better it will be for the people." All of which
was very pleasant both to Mr. Henschel and to Barbara.
She had been seated but a few minutes in the car that
was to take her to Mamaroneck — the station at which she
usually got out — when she was joined by Mr. Jack Old-
mixon. There cannot be in a place, crowded as every
car is on the late trains that go out on the New Haven
Railroad every Saturday afternoon, any conversation but
SDch as may be heard without restraint by every passenger
within ten feet of the speakers. Barbara was in the first
place surprised at Jack's appearance ; he looked low-spir-
ited, and as though he was suffering. In fact, he at once
apologized for what he called his stupidity in having
passed Barbara several times without seeing her, by say-
ing that he had a bad headache. However, by the time
they arrived at Mamaroneck he declared that, in spite of
the noise and the increased effort he had been obliged to
make in talking so as to allow what he said to be heard,
he had gotten entirely rid of his headache, and never had
felt better in his life.

^

264 ME. OLDMIXON.

Ben, a stout Westcliester lad that Mr. Henscliel liad
hired to look after the horse and do all other kinds of
outside work, was at the station with the little candage,
and was to run home through the fields while Barbara
drove Jack by the road, a distance of nearly three miles.
Now that they were rattling along over the hard, smooth
country road, Jack felt that he might say some things
that he could not have said in the cars without having
them heard by twenty or more people.

" I'm very glad to see you again, MissHenschel,'' he
began ; ''I've missed those delightful morning sittings
ever so much, though doubtless you were bored by them
more than your good-nature allowed you to show."

'' Did I look as though I were at all bored ?" inquired
Barbara, with a smile. '' If I did, my looks did me in-
justice."

"No, you did not I" exclaimed Jack, with emphasis,
"but it is very pleasant for me to hear you say you
were not wearied."

" But you talked so much that 1 could not get tired."

" You might have got tired of my talking."

" Perhaps I should have been if you had always talked
about the same thing ; but your range of subjects was so
very extensive that I was kept wide-awake, wondering
what was to come next."

" I had to do that to get the facial expression I wanted.
I tried many subjects before I succeeded."

" Oh, indeed ! Then I was showing ofE for your
benefit !"

" I'm afraid that is an honest way of putting it," re-
joined Jack, with a laugh. "But, then, in art, as in
everything else, ^jmia coronat opus.^ "

"I don't know what that means," said Barbara,

^^ WELCOME TO LAS ATA I" 265

^^but I'm sure it's something horrible. There now!"
as the wheels went with a bump over a big stone that
lay in the way, ''that comes fromyonr bothering a coun-
try girl's head with Latin. While I was trying to
make out what you said, I missed seeing that stone.
But pray, what subject did you finally decide upon as
the one that made me show oflE to most advantage ?"

''Ah ! Miss Henschel, there is just where I think I
have shown what little talent I possess. I tried at first
to get a particular expression, and then I changed my
mind, and endeavored to make your face a combination of
all your expressions. Tou know an English scientist
has been photographing groups of particular kinds of
criminals and other sorts of people. He takes, for in-
stance, the photographs of fifty burglars. Then he
makes a compound picture of these fifty photographs, and
obtains a representation of the typical burglar. Tou
look at that, and though it is not exactly like any one of
the individuals taken, it is the sum total of them all, and
from it you would know any one of the rest at sight ; and
80 on with murderers, pickpockets, and others. Now,
that's what I tried to do with you, Miss Henschel. Tou
are fifty persons — that is, you have fifty dLflEerent expres-
sions — and everybody that knows you and that sees the
picture sees an expression he has seen on your face. If 1
had taken you in any one of them, don't you see it would
only have represented the fiftieth part of you ? That
wouldn't have done at all, would it?"

" Not unless a part is better than the whole," replied

Barbara, laughing merrily, "and perhaps in this case it

is. Tou know, with some things the less you have of

them the better."

" True ; but you are not one of them. Look out !" as
12

266 ICB. OLDMixoir.

the wheels barely missed going into the ditch at the side
of the road. ^^ A little more, and we should have been
npset."

** Yes, and then yon'd have had fifty pieces of a yonng
woman to pick up in reality ; bntyon see, Mr. Oldmixon,
what comes of trying to do two things at once, when either
is sufficient to require all the power of the female mind.
But finish telling me about the picture."

* * I merely endeavored to combine your fifty expressions
into one which represented them alL IVegot yon now,
Miss Henschel, not as you are at any one moment, but as
you are at fifty moments. I wrote you part of what
Archer said of it, but I didn't tell you what he said of
your likeness."

^^ Something nice, I suppose, or you wouldn't mention
it."

*' Tes, it was nice. But Archer is one of the most em-
phatic men I ever knew. He's a wicked old fellow, too. "

" Then, what he said was nice, emphatic, and wicked I
What a remarkable combination ! I am curious to hear
it."

'' Shall I tell you ?"

Barbara looked at him for a moment. A pleasant smile
was on his face. '^ 1 think I can trust you not to tell me
anything I ought not to hear," she said.

" Thanks I He said, 'Oldmixon, that's the sort of a
face a man is ready to die and to lose his soul for.' "

Barbara was silent. Things were going altogether too
fast, and she thought she must put a brake on them, or
there was no telling what would come next ; and yet it
was all very pleasant — so pleasant, that she could not re-
member that she had ever passed so delightful a half hour
as that that was now coming to an end. Tes, it was

*' WELCOME TO LASATA !'' 267

coming to an end, for she was within a hundred yards of
the house, and she could see her father's tall form as he
walked up and down the front porch, waiting their arri-
val. It was at least three minutes since Jack had told
her of Archer's remark, and during all that time she had
been deep in thought ; still, it was not too late for her to
say something that would express her disapproval of such
speeches. She was on the point of saying, '^ I should be
very sorry if any one would be so foolish and wicked for
me," and then the idea occurred to her that it would be
very absurd for her to assume that Mr. Archer had her
in his mind when he spoke, and that to him the face had
no individuality, but simply represented a conception of
the artist's mind. Yes, it would certainly be better for
her to say nothing, and at the moment she came to this
determination she drove through the gateway and up to
the side of the porch, where her father stood waiting to
receive them.

" You're a little late, Bab," he said, as Ben took the
reins from her hand. ^' Welcome to Lasata, Mr. Oldmix-
on !" Jack was out in an instant, and was giving his
hand to Barbara in order to help her to alight from the
carriage before Mr. Henschel had ceased speaking. Then
he turned and shook hands warmly with his host, ex-
pressed his great delight at having been invited to Lasata
— the meaning of which name had been explained to him
by Miss Hens6hel — and passed high encomiums on that
young lady's skill in driving.

Barbara, who had not quite got through kissing her
father, laughed at this last part of Jack's speech.

" Yes," she said, '^ my skill certainly saved us from
being upset ; for if I had had a little less we should assured-
ly have gone over. Therefore, father, thank your stars

268 ME. OLDMIXON.

that yon have a daughter that knows enough about man-
aging a horse not to kill either herself or the gentleman
she is driving."

"She'll kill me," thought Jack, "if she refuses me
to-morrow, for to-morrow 1 shall have to ask her to be
my wife. 1 didn't intend to go quite that far this time,
but she's so lovely and sweet that, by Heaven ! I can't
resist any longer."

Then, when he entered his room to get ready for din-
ner and saw the model of the silver fox on its pedestal,
he was so delighted that he rushed back to the hall
where he had left Barbara talking with her father, to
express his joy.

" 1 can only now thank you for the remembrance," he
said; " 1 will tell you to-morrow, when I have examined it
by daylight, what I think of it as a work of art. It was
very kind. Miss Henschel, for now I know that those
hours in which 1 was painting my picture were not wearir
some to you."

He took her hand in his while he was speaking, and
held it till he had finished. Then he raised it to his lips,
and without another word went back to his room.

"He's a graceful man, Bab," said Mr. Henschel, look-
ing well enough pleased with the act of courtesy, while
Barbara, totally unused to such a proceeding, seemed
doubtful as to how she should regard it. ' ' No gentleman
of the court of Denmark could have done it better. I
saw the king kiss the queen's hand once, but he was
awkward compared to Mr. John Oldmixon."

CHAPTER XVIII.
"why should she not?"

There was no chance that evening for Jack to make
even an approach to the citadel he had determined to cap-
ture if he could. Besides, he wanted still a little time for
reflection as to the best way in which to make his attack.
A great deal, he knew, depended upon the tactics, just
as it does with an army about to make an onslaught on
another army. If it bungles it is very apt to be de-
feated, even though it be of superior force.

He had had a better opportunity while at dinner and
during the three hours after that meal, which they all
spent together in the library, for becoming acquainted
with Barbara than he had ever before enjoyed. The con-
versation had been devoted to a variety of subjects in
which he and Mr. Henschel and Barbara were interested,
and there was scarcely one upon wliich she had not had
something to say. Jack was not a very deep young man,
but he was well educated in a certain direction, and his
residence abroad had given him the opportunity — which
he had not neglected — of picking up a good deal of in-
formation upon subjects a knowledge of which goes very
far toward giving a man a reputation for being well-in-
formed, and still further in the direction of making him
agreeable in conversation. He was, therefore, sufficiently
competent to form an opinion of Barbara's acquirements
and good sense. He had made up his mind on these

270 ME. OLDMIXON.

pointfi some time ago, but this night had enabled him to
confirm his opinion beyond all danger of reversal. To be
sure, a young man in love does not approach without prej-
udice the consideration of the subject of the intellectual
qualifications possessed by the object of his heart's desires.
As a rule, he is utterly unable to see anything in her
most insane moods and imbecile actions that is not indica-
tive of the highest degree of mental development. But
this was not the case with Jack. He had fallen in love
with Barbara by no means altogether because she was
pretty. If she had not possessed a charming mind, he
knew very well that she would not be beautiful. It was
her mentality speaking through her face that made her
countenance such an enchanting picture to look upon.
If Barbara had been a fool, she would have been a very
commonplace-looking young woman, and then Jack
certainly would not have fallen in love with her.

Barbara, as the reader already knows, had not gone
deeply into learning ; what she knew, however, she knew
well, and her range of subjects, though probably not so
extensive as that of which the young lady graduates of
Macassar College are mistresses, was large enough, and
she had the inestimable advantage of knowing something
below the surface of the matters she had studied.

Jack was, of course, delighted. He had come to Lasata
expecting to be delighted, and he had not been disappoint-
ed. To every word that Barbara spoke he listened with
the most rapt attention. She had those predominating
attractions in a woman — a clear and distinct enunciation
and a soft, melodious voice. Consequently, though she
never spoke in a loud tone, every word was as distinctly
heard as though it had been gently spoken directly into
the ear. It was happiness, therefore, for Jack^ who had

"why should she kot?" 271

been for many days past in almost constant association
with his uncle, and the unwilling recipient of that old
gentleman's snarls and groans over the state of the world
generally, and of his nephew Hogarth in particular, to
sit in this peaceful atmosphere, where all was gentleness
and refined repose, and listen to the mellowed voice and
the musical laugh of the woman he thought the lovehest
in all the world.

It was late — ^late, that is, for Lasata — when the party
broke up. Barbara held out her hand to Jack as she bid
him good-night and wished him pleasant dreams. So in-
toxicated was he with the impression she had made upon
him, that if they had been alone he would at once have
told the story of his love. As it was, there was nothing
to do but to make some pleasant commonplace speech,
and to wait for a better opportunity. He pressed her
hand a little, but of course there was no response through
that medium, and. then he went into his own room.

Like a skilful and far-seeing general on the eve of an
important battle, Jack sat down to think over the situa-
tion of affairs and to lay out his plan of operations for the
next day. It has been said that the woman does not live
and never has lived that could conceal her love from the
man that possesses her heart. Probably this is true, but
it is equally so of the other sex. When a man loves a
woman, the woman, if she be not a fool, will certainly dis-
cover the fact. Either may pretend to a love they do not
feel, and thus deceive not only the immature, but even
those that are experienced in the wiles of men and wom-
en ; but when the passion is really present, it will reveal
itself in spite of all eflEorts that may be made to keep it
secret. Indeed, nothing so effectually makes it known
as the attempts that may be made to conceal it. The

272 ME. OLDMIXON.

struggle is so wildly energetic and the resalts so entirely
one-sided, that he or she mnst be very blind or very cal-
lous if the true state of afiEairs is not soon made apparent.

Jack threw himself into the comfortable chair that had
been provided for his use, and gave himself up, with as
much disinterestedness as was possible under the circum-
stances, to a calm and impartial review of the position in
which he was placed and of the events and situations that
had brought him to the present crisis. As the result of
his cogitations, he arrived at the belief that Barbara loved
him ; but there was so much apprehension and fear
that he might be mistaken in this conviction, that, on the
whole, the effect was not so consolatory as he could have
wished. As is usual in such cases, he was afraid to trust
implicitly to the evidence of his own senses. He was
very much in the position of a physician that attempts to
prescribe for himself, and whose judgment is almost in-
variably warped by the personal interest he has in the
case. Still, after making all due allowances for the inev-
itable errors in this direction to which he was subject, he
could not fail to see that Barbara was kindly disposed tow-
ard him, and that this bias was so strongly pronounced,
that if it was not already love as he understood the sub-
ject, it practically amounted to the same thing in the
heart of a girl as true and as pure as was Barbara Hen-
schel.

But there was a family matter — one that had within the
past few days given him much anxiety — which he felt he
was bound, as an honest man and a gentleman, to place
fully before Barbara when he asked her to be his wife.
It was this that had made him look badly, and as though
he were ill, when Barbara and he had met in the car on
their way to Lasata, and which he had explained by alleg-

"why should she not?'' 273

ing a headache. His head did ache. There had been
quite enough since he had last seen her to make both his
head and his heart ache, and for all that he could perceive
to the contrary, there was ample warrant for the be-
lief that they would ache still more before certain mat-
ters were settled. All this he intended that Barbara
should know. It should never be in the power of any
one to say that be had induced her to promise to become
his wife when there were circumstances existing that, had
they been brought to her knowledge, might have caused
her to turn from him with horror.

In the mean time the woman of whom he was thinking,
and with whom his happiness was so intimately bound,
was sitting by the window of a room that overlooked the
Sound. The night was bleak ; there was no moon, and
the stars were obscured by thick black clouds that looked
as though they might be full of snow. Far off in the
distance, on the opposite shore of the Sound, was a light-
house upon which there was a revolving lautern, that she
had ascertained, by actual count, flashed its bright bar of
light over the water every two minutes. She sat watch-
ing this object, her thoughts being a strange medley, of
which the light, Jack, and herself were the central fea-
tures, and wondering how the affair which she now felt
was hers — ^for good or evil, she did not know which —
would end. "Would it be always bright, as was the light
when the open side of the lantern was turned toward her,
or would it be dark, as was the lantern when the opaque
side prevented the emergence of the rays from the lamp ?
Or would it be for a while light and then dark, and so on
to the end ?

She knew Jack loved her, and she felt sure that if he

were given the opportunity he would tell her so before
12*

274 MR. OLDMIXON,

the time came round on Monday morning for him to go
back to New York. She had resolved that nothing shoxdd
ever induce her to marry him, but now she felt the de-
termination becoming less, as she found that she loved
him more than she had thought she should ever love him.
She felt that it was now possible that she would marry
him if he asked her, and she found herself with the ques-
tions in her heart. Why should she not ? What did she
owe to his uncle that she should sacrifice her happiness
and that of the man she loved for any fancied loyalty to
him ? True, she knew that Jack was to be his uncle's
heir, and she thought he was ignorant of this fact. She
had virtually promised not to speak of anything Mr.
01dm ixon had told her, and therefore it left room for the
suspicion in the minds of some persons, perhaps even in
that of Jack himself, and certainly in that of Mr. Old-
mixon, that she had taken advantage of her knowledge to
inveigle this presumptively rich young man into a mar-
riage when he did not know his pecuniary value. She
might tell him, she thought, and then he would be free,
with his eyes open, to do as he pleased ; but reflection told
her that this would be dishonorable, and no woman ever
had a more chivalrous sense of honor than had Barbara
Henscliel — a sense in which her sex is, as a rule, deficient.
But what were the opinions of old Mr. Oldmixon and all
the rest of the world when set up against Jack's ? And
again the question came with irresistible force, Why
should she make him and herself miserable to please
other people ? True, why should she ? Had she been
disposed to do so, she would have been the only woman
within my knowledge willing to do such a thing. Women
jE^^agerly sacrifice themselves for the man they love,
J^ ^KB will not sacrifice him. The women that go

^^WHY SHOULD SHE NOT?" 275

into convents and kill themselves for love are either those
whose passion is not returned, or thej are insane melan-
cholies that have brooded over delusions until their reason
has been overwhelmed. No woman of sane mind, know-
ing that the love she receives is as warm as that that she
gives, ever sacrificed herself and her lover to an idea or a
principle. She is not going to make him imhappy, what-
ever else she may do. She may allege a thousand rea-
sons why she should not marry him, but the real reason is
either that she does not love him or that she knows he
does not love her, and this she generally keeps to herself.
If these be absent, there will be no holding back or
going into convents or a resort to Paris green, but she
will marry him by hook or by crook, openly or secretly,
though all the world should stand in the way. Barbara
felt very much in that way. She now perceived that when
she had spoken so decidedly to her father to the effect that
nothing could persuade her to be Mr. John Oldmixon's
wife, that she did not love him as she now did. She
knew now that she should be obliged to marry him if he
asked her, and if she was entirely satisfied that his love was
good and true. Doubtless there would be more or less
trouble ; but her lover was a man who had shown his abil-
ity to hold his own in the face of adverse circumstances,
and even to make his way in spite of them ; and she knew
that she had a force of her own that would enable her to
yield efficient assistance. She was not one to succumb to
the attacks of adversity. She had always shown pluck
and determination when these qualities had been re-
quired, and though she had never suffered any great
misfortune, she had the mental organization that is
ready to meet misfortune whenever it presents itself.
"I love him," she said to herself, just ^ the light

276 MB. OLDMIXON.

from over tiie Sound flashed in her eyes, " and that's the
end of the contest. It's gone," as darkness once more
prevailed on the water, " bat it will shine again. Oh,
Jack" — he had told her that his intimate friends called
him by that name — '* I tried my best not to love yon, but
it was no use. I thought you loved me almost from the
first, and now 1 know you do, just as surely as though
you had already told me. And if you do, I'll be yours.
Jack, even if it should be wi'ong for me to marry you.
It can't be very wrong ; I don't see how it can. If he
loves me and I love him, whose business is it but ours?"
And with this satisfactory conclusion of the matter, Bar-
bara went to bed, and with a much better prospect of
getting a good night's rest than had Mr. Jack Oldmixon
in the room just under hers.

As a matter of fact. Jack did not sleep well. He did
not go to bed till he had exhausted all the capabilities of
the subject that occupied his mind, and had discovered
that there were no new lights in which he could view it.
Indeed, it would have been a very wonderful topic if he
had been able to extract anything original out of it, for
he had thought of scarcely anything else, since his last
meeting with Barbara, in the old shop in which he had
painted his picture. There had been other matters forced
upon his attention and they had worried him, but he
had tried to dismiss them from his mind, and though not
altogether with success, yet to such purpose that they
rarely obtruded themselves upon him, and then only as
passing shadows, that fled away as quickly as they had
come.

The next morning, in spite of a rather restless night,
he looked and felt better than at any time since his return
from Annapolis. He was one of that class of persons who

"why should she kot?" 277

become perfectly composed, when a crisis that concerns
them has come, although they may be greatly disturbed
while awaiting it. He had taken occasion before leaving
his room to make a thorough study of the silver fox ;
just as conscientious a one as though he was capable of
passing an impartial judgment on that work of art. I
am afraid that no matter how bad it might have been,
Jack would have found something in it to admire ; as it
was, however, it would have been impossible for him to
go wrong in any laudation of Barbara's first work that
he might give. It was, as Mr. Maurice had said, a pro-
duction that would have made a reputation for any sculp-
tor, and Jack was fully competent to discover as much
for himself. Of course, it was a pleasure for him to give
his opinion, as he did at the breakfast-table, and equally
a pleasure for Barbara and her father to hear him express
it with such evident heartiness and sense of its truth as
he exhibited.

The day was by no means an unpleasant one, consid-
ering the bad prospect for clear weather that the night
before had offered. It was not warm, but the sun was
shining brightly, and there was no cold, cutting wind to
make walking uncomfortable.

There was at the distance of about a mile from Lasata
a little church to which Mr. Henschel and his daughter
were in the habit of going every Sunday morning. Of
course, he had been brought up according to the tenets
of the Church of Denmark, which, though mainly Luther-
an in its doctrines, has nevertheless its bishops, with an
apostolic succession even more unquestioned than that
of the Church of England, and its Protestant Episcopal
daughter in the United States. On his arrival in their
country, they had looked about among the forty or more

278 MB. OLDMIXOK.

religionfl sects that they found ready to receive them
into their folds, and had come to the condosion that the
Episcopal came nearer to what they had been accustomed
to at home than any of the others. They had accord-
ingly given in their adhesion to that ecclesiastical organ-
ization, and had taken care that their children should be
educated in its communion.

Barbara took her religion as she did everything else —
healthily. She had been confirmed, and she devoutly be-
lieved all the articles of the Christian faith, but she be-
lieved them according to her own light, and not that of
any one else. She found nothing in the doctrines or ritual
of the Church that required her to dispense with her own
reasoning powers and to commit her judgment and her
conscience to others. She did not, therefore, do her duty
to God and to her neighbor through any fear of eternal
damnation if she neglected it, or hope of everlasting hap-
piness as a reward for its performance. She did it be-
cause it was right. She was happy in her religion. If
she had believed that the Creator of the world would pun-
ish eternally any of the beings that he had put into it,
she would not have been happy. Into minute theologi-
cal points she did not care to venture. She went to
church and said her prayers, and felt happier for the
exercise. ^

The fact of Jack's being in the house was no reason
why she should not go to church that morning. There
was nothing to do but to ask him to accompany her father
and herself, and there was nothing for Jack to do but to
accept. If the truth must be told of this young man, it
must be said that he was not much of a church-goer. In
fact, religion had never been one of the strong points of
the Oldmixons ; and though, in answer to Barbara's ques-

*'WHY SHOXJLD SHE l^^OT ?" 279

tion, he said that his mother had been a member of the
Church of Scotland, he was forced to admit that her early
death had prevented her giving him much religions in-
struction, and that he had never sought for it elsewhere.
He added, however, that he was perfectly willing, nay
anxious, to take his first lesson that morning, under the
auspices of Miss Henschel.

It had been decided that as the morning was pleasant
they would walk, so at ten o'clock they departed for the
church. Jack thought, as he started off by Barbara's side,
that never had she looked more beautiful than she did
then, with her dark brown frock and seal-skin jacket, and
a black broad-brimmed felt hat with a red- winged black-
bird — of her own mounting, as she told him — set in front,
with its wings in the attitude of flight. If Mr. Henschel
were only out of the way, what better chance for laying
his heart and hand at Barbara's feet than would be the
walk home from church ? But how to get him out of the
way was a matter that appeared to be at first sight alto-
gether beyond his powers. Jack was not much of a
diplomatist ; his nature was altogether too frank for the
double-dealing or secretiveness necessary for the one
that works by intrigue. But this very deficiency in the
power of device was often the means of his obtaining
success when others, in like circumstances, by using
strategy would have ignomiaiously failed. Upon the
present occasion he wanted Mr. Henschel out of the
way, and it did not take him long to arrive at the con-
clusion that the best way to secure that gentleman's
absence was to tell him all the essential facts ef the situ-
ation, and request him to allow his daughter and him —
Jack Oldmixon — ^to walk home from church without the
presence of a third party. They were just passing out

280 ME. OLDMIXON.

of the gate when this idea occurred to Jack, and to act
npon it at once was a necessary concomitant.

*' May I say a word to you, Mr. Henschel ?'' he said.
"I beg your pardon, Miss Henschel," he continued,
addressing Barbara, *'butif you will kindly continue to
switch at that cedar-tree with your parasol for two or
three minutes I will promise to bring your father back
in safety." He led the way round the house to the front
porch, and then, without any preliminary words, opened
his case.

"Mr. Henschel," he said, ''I don't know whether
you have observed the fact or not, but I love your
daughter and I want to make her my wife. My time
here is very short, and I propose, with your consent, to tell
her this morning what is in my heart, and to ask her
to marry me."

Mr. Henschel knew perfectly well that Jack was in
love with Barbara, and, as the reader knows, he fully ap-
proved of that young gentleman as a husband for his
daughter, but the present announcement took him by
surprise, and it was a moment or two before he could suf-
ficiently recover his presence of mind to give an answer.
When, however, he did speak, there was no uncertain
sound in his voice or meaning in his words. He believed,
in spite of what Barbara had told him, that she would
eventually be willing to marry Jack, and he thought that
the last twenty-four hours had been suflBcient to produce
a weakening in the detennination she had expressed to
him. He had noticed that even when most emphatic in
the declaration of her intention never to become Jack's
wife, she had not denied loving him. There was prob-
ably, he thought, some chivalric idea connected with
Jack's heirship of old Mr. Oldmixon's estate that caused

*'WHT SHOXTLD SHE NOT?" 281

ter to take an exaggerated and mistaken view of her duty,
and that would probably disappear under the cogency of
her lover's arguments. He held out his hand to Jack,
and, of course, it was grasped warmly, for it was evident
before a word was spoken what the answer would be.

" Mr. Oldmixon," said Mr. Henschel, while the tears
started to his eyes, * ' I am not so old as to have lost my per-
ceptive faculties. I have known for some time that you
loved Barbara, and if I had not approved of you as a hus-
band for my girl, I wouldn't have asked you to come
here. It would not be proper for me, in the absence of
absolute knowledge, to say anything about your chances,
but I am sure you can trust her to tell you the truth.
Ton can speak to her whenever you choose, and I hope
she'll take you for her husband. She's a good girl, and,
what's as important in a girl as it is in a man, she's got a
good stock of common-sense. 1 suppose you want me
to get out of the way this morning, and give you a chance
to speak to her?"

^' Yes, that's what I want," said Jack, who had all the
time kept hold of Mr. Henschel 's hand, and who now
gave it an extra grasp. " You know how grateful I am
for your confidence in me. I have asked you for the
greatest treasure you possess, and I don't believe you will
ever have cause to regret having given her to me. "

** With her consent, of course," interrupted Mr. Hen-
schel. ' ' You may tell her I approve, after she has accept-
ed you ; but no persuasions through me."

** I will say nothing of your consent till she has given
me hers," said Jack, with an eagerness that showed his
wiUingness to promise almost anythmg that might be
asked of him.

**Now that that matter is settled," observed Mr.

282 MB. OLDMIXOK.

Henschel, with a happy smile on his face, " what further
is it that yon want me to do ?"

'^ I want yon," said Jack, not in the least abashed, ^^ to
leave us at the church door when the service is over.
You can probably," continued this outspoken young
man, " find some one in the congregation to whom yon
would like to say a few words. There's the doctor, for
instance ; you might tell him how well the new drains
work."

*' The doctor I Doctor Maddox I He hasn't been in-
side of a church for twenty years, and he told me a day
or two since that he never expected to go again. I
might say a word to the clergyman. But," he added,
with a slight laugh, ^^ it might be too soon to do that yet ;
however, I'll find some excuse, never fear."

* ' Thanks. Now, let us join Barbara — Miss Henschel, I
mean," correcting himself ; " she will wonder what has
become of us,"

CHAPTER XIX.

'^I LOVE YOU."

The little church which the Henschels attended was
constructed with a due regard to the principles of ecclesi-
ological art. In the first place, there were no shams
about it, and, in the next, no vain attempt had been made
by the architect to copy, on a diminutive scale, any fa-
mous church edifice. 1 have seen in one of the largest
cities of this country what is called an exact imitation of
St. Paul's in London. It is a brick building, perhaps at
the outside fifty by a hundred feet in extent, and sur-
mounted by wooden cupolas covered with tin. Of course
it is an abomination in the sight of every person with a
soul above that of the snobbish architect that built it.

St. Ethelwold's made no pretension to being any bet-
ter than it really was. It was built of a dark granite, and
in the early English style, and was devoid of plaster, the
bare stone, laid as it was in courses, producing a much more
impressive effect than if it had been covered up and sten-
cilled all over with gilt crosses, or lambs holding flags
with their forelegs, or other symbols.

Jack sat next to Barbara ; she gave him a prayer-book,
and all through the service found the places for him. No
one could have been more devout, so far as externals went,
than was he. He stood up and. sat down, and bowed his
head, and even made the responses, under the guidance of
his fuglewoman, in a way that would have done credit

284 MB. OLDMIXON.

to a much more habitaal worshipper. And, indeed, Jack
felt all the solemnity of the occasion with a depth and a
sincerity that he would not a month before have thought
it possible he could feel in any church in Christendom.
Although, as we have seen, not a church-goer. Jack was
not deficient in that natural religion in which all well-
constituted men, even though they be agnostics, abound.
The solemn, the beautiful, the reverential in sight and
in sound never failed to move him, and to excite in him
chivalrous or other noble thoughts in consonance with the
emotions that swayed him. Now, the dim light entering
through stained-glass windows, the measured voice of the
clergyman, the lofty words of the ritual, the spirit of
adoration that pervaded the congregation, the swelling
sound of the organ as it pealed forth its sacred melodies,
and, above all, the worshipping woman kneeling at his
side, whose low, sweet notes fell on his ears with a power
that brought the tears to his eyes, all excited in his
heart emotions that made him feel, for the time being, at
least, as though he were lifted up from a world of sin and
borne into a sphere where everything was pure and good.
'^ Lord, have mercy upon us, and incline our hearts to
keep this law." He glanced down at Barbara as these
words of supplication came from her lips in response to the
clergyman in the chancel pronouncing each commandment
of the Decalogue. Her head was bowed upon her closed
hands, which rested on the pew-railing before her. He
could not see her face, but the graceful curve of her white
neck, the well-rounded outlines of her figure — she had
taken off her seal-skin jacket — the knot of red hair — ^the
loveliest hair he thought that he had ever seen — ^that was
not covered by the shapely little hat with its dainty
bird that her own dear hands had mounted, the earnest-

(i-r T/^TT-CI ^/^TT "

I LOVE YOU." 285

ness with which each prayer was uttered, the distinctness
of her enunciation, impressed Jack with such a sense of
her beauty and goodness, that he wondered if it were
really possible that she could ever be his. He had never
felt his own unworthiness so keenly as he did then. It
seemed to him for a moment as though it would be almost
a sin to link with his own the life of the gentle girl
against whose name in the Book of Life the recorcUng
angel had entered nothing but good, and yet who humbly
prayed to God for strength to keep his commandments.
How infinitely better than he was this kneeling, adoring
woman, who laid bare her heart to the Maker of all things,
as she might have done to her earthly father, and suppli-
cated him for a power she did not need ! *^ Lord, have
mercy upon us, and write all these thy laws in our hearts,
we beseech thee. " Were they not already written in her
heart ? Doubtless she had never broken a single one of
them, while he, who had certainly violated two or three,
perhaps more, had never, so far as he could remember,
uttered a prayer for forgiveness or for strength to resist
temptation. Well, hereafter it should be different with
him. Her God should be his God, if she should grant
him her love. Yes, for he was willing to bargain with
Providence, or, in fact, with any other power that could
give him what he desired. Emotional religion is not,
after all, of the most elevated kind, or the most perma-
nent in its duration.

Jack listened to the sermon, but with less attention
than he had bestowed on the service. The clergyman
was young — younger than himself — and it was not likely
that a man like Jack, who had seen a good deal of the
world in various parts of its surface, could look up to him
with sufficient confidence to accept him as a moral guide.

286 HB. OLDHLZOK.

Jack was snre that he knew more about the hninan heart
than did the speaker, and, moreover, that his knowledge
came from personal experience, while that of the other
came from books. It was very much as it is with the
young men and young women who nowadays take to
writing novels as soon as they have escaped from col-
lege or boarding-school, and who undertake to describe
life and character from what they have read in other
novels or have seen enacted on the stage by actors,
who themselves have gotten their small knowledge from
books. Clergymen, like novelists, should be over fifty
years of age.

It must be confessed that while the young theologian
was laying down the religious and moral law with a pos-
itiveness that ought to have been the result of personal
experience, Jack was not so successful in following him as
were many others of the congregation, who were accus-
tomed to receive the words of warning and advice that
fell from the lips of the ministrant as though they were
veritable droppings from the sanctuary. He was think-
ing how he should begin the observations that he had to
address to Barbara. At first he was disposed to adopt
the same plan that had proved so successful with her
father — that is, to come right out with the gist of the
whole matter by telling her that he loved her. That,
after all, was the one thing before which all the rest that
he had to say went down like grass before a lawn-mower.
But, upon reflection, he came to the conclusion that it
would be better to inform her fully of certain family
affairs that troubled him and that might influence her in
the answer she might have to give him. Better to start
squarely by letting her know just who he was and what
disadvantages might attend upon marriage with him.

'*I LOVE YOU.' 287

The advantages might safely be left to her to discover
for herself.

The sermon was not a long one, and they rose at its
conclusion to receive the blessing, and then to the music
of the organ to make their way out of the church. But
just as they had reached the door, the sexton came up to
Mr. Henschel and informed him that Mr. Wilton, the
rector, wished to speak with him in the vestry.

^^He wants to see me about becoming one of the
wardens in the place of Mr. Holtby, who died last
week," said Mr. Henschel. *'He spoke about it last
Sunday, but 1 was not then prepared to give him an
answer. Don't wait for me," he continued, with a sig-
nificant glance at Jack. " Walk slowly, and perhaps 1
may overtake you. If 1 do not, I shall not be far be-
hind you."

Nothing could have been more fortunate than this in-
tervention. Jack and Barbara walked slowly, and in a
few minutes found that all the rest of the congregation,
most of whom came in vehicles of some kind or other,
had passed them. At last they were alone.

They had talked of the sermon and of other indifferent
subjects, till at last. Jack looking up and down the road,
made the discovery that no one was in sight. His time
had come, and then he found that all his preconceived
plans of operation had vanished from his mind as com-
pletely as though they had never found a lodgment there,
and that, after all, he must depend upon the inspiration of
the moment. When did an earnest man ever fail at such
a time ? No one was ever more in earnest than was
Jack. Without stopping to think or to arrange his ideas
in any logical order, he began with what came first in his
mind, and went on with a degree of volubiUty that, had

288 HB. OLDHIXON.

he been capable at the time of judging, would have
astonished him.

" At last we are alone," he said, ^* and at last 1 have
the opportunity of telling you what of all things in the
world is most in my heart. It will take but a moment
to say it. It is all contained in three little words — * I love
you.' "

Having gotten thus far — and it must be admitted that
anything else would only have been an amplification of
his ^* three little words" — Jack stopped, not only talking
but walking, and, at the same instant, Barbara stopped
also. From the time that he had spoken the first word,
she knew of course what was coming. There was noth-
ing else that, after such a preamble, could have come but
the words '' I love you," or others to that effect. For a
moment she felt weak and faint, but it was only for a
moment, and before he had half finished his short speech
she was taking in his words with a kind of calm delight
that appeared to pervade her whole being. When he
stopped walking she stopped as a matter of course ; it
seemed to her that that was of itself a tacit admission
that in future he was to be her guide. She had not raised
her parasol, but she held it in her hand, and swung it
from side to side, while her eyes were apparently engaged
in diligently watching its oscillations.

*' Did you hear what I said ?" resumed Jack.

" Yes ; " very low, but yet very distinctly.

" Have you nothing to say to me ?"

She raised her eyes, and Jack saw that they were swim-
ming with tears ; and thus, before she spoke a word, he
knew that the victory was essentially won.

" Yes," she said at last, *^ I heard what you said, and
I am very glad, for — for — I think I love you too. But

*^I LOVE YOU." 289

your uncle ? Perhaps he may have other views for
you."

Jack looked up and down the road, and seeing that
there was no one in sight, took Barbara's head between
his hands, and bending over — ^f or though she was tall, he
was a good deal taller— kissed her lips.

'' I know I am not worthy of yon, my darling," he
said ; ^' I was thinking all the time 1 was in church how
thoroughly beneath you I am, but I'll try to make myself
better. You've made me very happy ; I've loved you,
dear, ever since I first saw you. I never saw a woman
as good and as lovely as you. And now you're mine ! I
can scarcely believe it " — and he kissed her again, as
though to naake sure that she really had said " yes " to
him.

Barbara smiled. '' Yes, I am sure I love you with all
my heart," she said. " But there is something in the
way that I have no right to mention to you. I don't
know that it can come between us, but I wish it were
not there, for if it were away my happiness would be
complete."

'' Something in the way 1" exclaimed Jack, his thoughts
at once reverting to his family affairs. "What is it,
dear ?" fearing, as he asked the question, that she would
tell him of something she had heard about Hogarth or his
uncle.

" Oh, I cannot tell you ; I promised never to mention
it."

'' Well, dear," said Jack, a little crestfallen, " if you
really made a promise not to speak of it, you are, of
course, bound to keep your promise."

"I — I don't think I promised in words," faltered
Barbara. " In fact, when the statement was about being

13

290 MB. OLDMIXON.

made to me, and the gentleman said, ^ Yoa ranst promise
not to tell this to anybody but your father/ 1 didn't say
anything at all, but I allowed him to go on and tell me,
and that was the same thing as promising, wasnH it ?"

She raised her eyes again to Jack's, as she asked thiB
question, and looked at him inquiringly and doubtfully.
He had never seen her more beautiful.

'^ Wait one moment," exclaimed the enraptured young
man ; '' 1 can't answer any questions in the presence of
such loveliness as yours. Oh, Barbara I my Barbara I
have you the slightest idea that you are the sweetest
woman that God ever made ; the dearest, the most beau-
tiful, the most incomparable, the — "

" Now," she said, laughing, " you don't expect me to
answer that question, do you ? But," she added more
seriously, '' if you love me, and admire me, I am very
glad. Don't you think we had better walk on ? We've
been standing here almost long enough for father to
overtake us."

" No," he continued, looking at her rapturously, " you
don't know what a perfectly adorable creature you are.
If you did, you would go away from this grovelling
earth, to dwell with your fellow angels."

Again she laughed. She was very happy ; she threw
her arms around his neck, and drew his head to her
breast. It was her first caress. '' Oh, Jack !" she mur-
mured, ^' my love, my love ! Don't talk such nonsense.
Don't you think I'd rather be with you than with all the
angels that were ever born ?"

^'1 didn't know," said the imbecile young man — all
young men that are worth anything are imbecile at such
times — '^ I knew 1 wasn't fit to associate with you, and
1 thought that perhaps you'd rather be with the superior

**I LOVE YOU." 291

beings that are like you. I suppose they are angels ; they
may be goddesses for all I know. That was the first
time you called me ' Jack ; ' I was waiting to see when
you meant to begin."

'' 1 expect to call you ^ Jack ' many times."

'' I hope you may do it for a thousand years, and then
for another thousand, and so on for all eternity."

'' Oh, you'd be tired enough of me before that."

Jack disdained any answer to this beyond a kiss.

^ ' Now about that promise, or what you call a promise, ' '
he said, when he had the chance ; " made to a gentleman,
too I Upon my word, Miss Henschel I Have you any
clear idea of what you've been doing ?" He put on an
air of mock severity as he asked this question.

'^ No, Jack," answered Barbara, demurely, ^' 1 don't
think I have. 1 have only one idea now ; there isn't
room in my head for another — I know that you love me,
and everything else in the way of knowledge has gone."

^' That's all very well. That's the way I want to hear
you talk ; but don't you think you could muster sufficient
intellect to tell me who the gentleman is that you gave
that ghost of a promise to V '

" I think I might do that much. I made no promise,
expressed or implied, on that point."

''Well, whowafiit?"

" It was your uncle, Jack."

" My Uncle Yictor !"

" Yes, Jack."

" You know him then ?"

"Yes, Jack."

" I am perfectly astounded I Have you known him
long ?"

''No, Jack."

292 MB. OLDMIXON.

'^ Have you met him often ?"

"No, Jack, only twice."

" How did you happen to make his acquaintance P'

Barbara reflected for a moment before answering.
They had resumed their walking, and they had yet
about three-quarters of a mile to go before reaching
home. She thought that what she had a right to tell
her father she ought to be allowed to tell the man she
was going to marry, especially as the matter concerned
him. Yes, she would tell him. In reality, she had not
actually promised. Scruples like hers disappear from a
woman's mind in the presence of her lover.

" I think I'll have to tell you aU about it, Jack," she
said at last. " There's really no reason why you should
not know, and if I don't tell you I shall be uncomfort-
able, and you will be imhappy, won't you, dear ?"

" Tes, very unhappy, my darling, very miserable.
The very idea of your having a secret from me makes
me wretched." (Jack did not look very wretched, but
appearances are often deceptive.) "Besides," added
the specious young man, "you didn't promise. If he
had cared anything about it, don't you think he would
have had you promise in words before he told you any-
thing ? I think you ought to tell me, and then I've
something in the way of a history to relate to you.
How in the world did you make Uncle Victor's acquaint-
ance ?"

" I mounted a canary-bird for him ;" and then Barbara
told all she knew of Mr. Oldmixon, and all that he had
related to her of his loves, his nephews, and his inten-
tions.

Jack listened in astonishment. " So all this time," he
exclaimed, " you have known of some of the most im-

"I LOVE YOU." 293

portant events in my life, and it is to you that I owe
the reconciliation with my uncle !"

'^ Yes, Jack, but you must bear in mind that at that
time I had never even seen you. It was very venture-
some in me to take your side when I knew nothing about
you, don't you think so ?" looking archly at him as she
spoke.

'' 1 said you were an angel just now ; you are my
guardian angel. I'm glad that I owe so much to you."

'^ But, Jack dear, that is the very thing that I thought
might come between us. 1 was afraid that when you
came to know all, as you would some day, you might
think — I am not afraid now — but I was little fearful
that you might think I loved you because you were rich,
and — and — that's what I thought."

" You little goose ! As if I could ever think such a
thing of an angel like you ! But if you have the slightest
shadow of a fear on that account, you can get rid of it,
for I am no longer my uncle's heir."

" Not your uncle's heir !"

'^ No, I have disinherited myself. It isn't often a
fellow does that voluntarily," continued Jack, grandly,
^^but I've done it."

'' On purpose ?"

" Yes, I've renounced all my prospects, or rather have
declined them. You'll be happier, I hope, dear, without
the money — that is, if I can do anything to make you

so."

'' Then you've given it all back to your brother ?"

'' No ; some woman is to get it."

^^ Some woman !" exclaimed Barbara, surprised in turn.

'^ Yes, some woman — who, I have no idea, but I was
expected to marry her. ' '

294 MB. OLDHIXOK.

" Expected to marry her, and without ever having
seen her !"

" Yes, but of course I would not do it." Then Jack
told how Mr. Oldmixon's will had made him only a con-
tingent heir, how he had renounced the contingency, and
how his uncle's estate would now go to the lady for
whom he had been intended.

'^ And you don't know who she is ?"

^' 1 have not the slightest idea."

^'And you gave up all that large fortune for me?
Oh, Jack, how 1 do love you 1"

" I'd renounce a hundred fortunes for you 1" ex-
claimed Jack, magnificently.

" Oh, how I do love you for that 1" repeated Barbara.
^' How very odd that your uncle shoald want to force
you to marry a woman you had never seen 1"

' ' Odd ! I think it was horrible 1 He thought he
could buy me with his money. I soon let him under-
stand differently."

" Was he very angry ?"

'' No, he was not angry ; he was grieved, sincerely
grieved. 1 think he has a lingering hope that I will still
marry her. Tou know 1 have up to a year after his
death. If I don't marry her by that time she gets the
estate."

'' The horrid creature ! Do you think she's a party to
the arrangement ?"

'^ I don't know. I shouldn't be surprised if she were.
She's probably some woman he's been in love with, and
who has rejected him."

'^ He said something to me about dividing his prop-
erty between you and another. Then he changed his
ideas and determined to give it all to you. I'm glad it's

"I LOVE YOU." 295

out of the way, Jack. We cau do without it, can't
we?"

" Of course we can ; 1 can make all I want."

They were now near the gate that opened upon the
lawn that surrounded the house, and looking in that
direction they saw that Mr. Henschel was already at
home, having probably taken a shorter path that led
over the fields.

" Father will be glad to know that 1 am going to be
your wife," said Barbara. '' He likes you. Jack."

" Yes," said that young man, complacently, '^ 1 think
he does."

'' What do you mean, sir, by speaking in that self-
sufficient manner and twisting your mustache in that
idiotic way?"

" I stole a march on you, Bab," he answered, laugh-
ing.

" Stole a march on me ! Ton don't mean to say
that—"

'' Yes, I do," he interrupted. " I spoke to him about
you this morning before we went to church, and asked
him to keep out of the way — "

'' You arch hypocrite ! And what did he say ?"

" You know what he did. As to what he said, the
general purport of it was that he would be glad to get
rid of you."

^' So you are a party to this nefarious scheme," she
said to her father, as they entered the gate, and he came
down the path to join them. " X should have thought
that a man of your age — Oh, father !" she contin-
ued, as he clasped her in his arms and drew her to his
heart, " I'm so happy ; I believe I loved him all the
time."

296 MB. OLDMIXOK.

''And now you hnow you do, Bab." He held out
one hand to Jack while with the other he gave him
Barbara's hand. " Take her, my friend," he continued ;
" she's the greatest treasure 1 have in the world, but I
think she's safe in your hands."

CHAPTEE XX.

REVELATIONS.

It is safe to say that no three people in the State of
New York that sat down to dinner that day were hap-
pier than our three friends.

Mr. Henschel was especially exuberant. He had had
a bottle of champagne put into ice, and, in his old-fash-
ioned way, he drank the health of Jack and Barbara and
wished them many long years of happiness. It being
Sunday, dinner, as was usual in the country, was early in
the afternoon, and when it was over Mr. Henschel very
considerately announced his intention of going to his
own room and taking a nap. This gave Jack the oppor-
tunity he wanted to finish what he had to say to
Barbara.

" I am bound in honor to tell her," he said to him-
self, " even if I knew she would break with me the
next minute. I don't think she will, " he continued, as
he looked at her admiringly, while he followed her into
the library. " She's such a sweet-tempered, charitable
darling, that she'll probably feel sorry for me and love
me, if possible, more than ever."

'' What a good man your father is, Bab 1" exclaimed
Jack, as the old gentleman left the room. '^ I don't
think I ever saw a finer specimen of nature's nobleman."

"For going away and leaving us alone ?" inquired

Barbara, laughing. "There isn't any hypocrisy about
13*

298 KB. OLDMIXOK.

you, is there, dear ? But he's everything that's good,
Jack — everything. I should be a bad girl if I did not
recognize his goodness. Of course you know that he's
only a Danish peasant, and I'm only a peasant's daugh-
ter."

" Oh," broke in Jack, ^' but such a peasant and such
a daughter ! Now sit down here, please, for I've a long
story to tell you — a sad story, a horrible story. Nothing,
I trust, that will make you love me any the less, but
one that wiU grieve you, as the facts have grieved
me."

He made room for her on the sofa, as she took the
vacant place by his side.

'^ 1 am not afraid," she said, seriously, for she saw
that something of moment was coming, and her thoughts
turned on old Mr. Oldmixon, to whom she naturally
thought that what Jack had to say related. " Perhaps 1
can anticipate a part of what you are about to say — ^your
uncle is not well ?"

'^ No, he is not well ; but he is not, as you may think,
insane — at least, he is not a raving maniac. I doubt very
mnch if he has been altogether sane since he was bom,
but his insanity is not of the kind that overthrows the
reason, though it probably makes him do things that
otherwise he would not do. It would be, 1 think, a very
difficult undertaking to attempt to prove in a court of
justice that Uncle Victor is insane. There are hundreds
of his friends here who would come forward to swear
that they had never known a man with a more acute
mind, or one more capable of comprehension on a large
scale. However, dear, what I have now to say is not in
regard to his mind."

He put his arm around her waist and drew her toward

BEVEL ACTIONS. 299

him, so that her head rested on his shoulder, and then
he began.

He told her of himself when a boy ; of his nncle's
treatment of him and preference for Hogarth ; of his
own early struggles and success ; of his brother's mar-
riage ; his uncle's reconciliation ; Mrsi Hogarth Old-
mixon's death ; his uncle's vision, or whatever else it
was, at Saratoga ; of his belief that his nephew was a
murderer, and of his determination to bring him to justice.
AU this the reader already knows, and it is not necessary,
therefore, to allude to it at greater length.

Barbara listened with the most rapt attention to
every word, frequently interrupting hun to ask pertment
questions, or to express her sympathy with Jack, as he
disapproved of his uncle's course. When he had got
through with the account of the conversation with his
uncle at the Lucullus Club, during which Mr. Oldmixon
had detailed the incidents of his vision, and declared his
intention of going to Annapolis and of bringing Hogarth
back into relations with him, Barbara's astonishment was
at its height. She was not in the least degree supersti*
tious. She did not believe in omens, or presages, or
visions, or ghosts, or in lucky or unlucky days, but she
was awed by Jack's account of his uncle's real or fancied
experience on the lawn at Saratoga, and horrified beyond
measure at the violence that the old man had exhibited
toward his nephew.

" How prejudiced he is 1" she said, raising her head
from Jack's shoulder, for perhaps the twentieth time,
to look into his face. " He is so different from you ;
you take after your mother, don't you. Jack ?"

"Yes, 1 think 1 do."

*^ I'm glad of that ; there's something very singular

300 MB. OLDMIXON. ,

about your uncle. I thongbt bo when I first met him,
and this impression was strengthened by our second
interview, and now it is still stronger. How horrible
that an nncle should be trying to fasten the crime of
murder on his own nephew, and to say that he would
like to see him 'hanged 1 And aU because of his prej-
udice. I don't believe in his vision. 1 am sure he
made it all up just to have some excuse for persecuting
your brother, who, if wild, and not as good as he should
be, is certainly not the wretch your uncle would make
him out to be."

Jack was silent for a few minutes. He was a
thoroughly generous and magnanimous young man. It |
was very painful to him to be obliged to say anything ]
that reflected on his own brother, even though it were
said to the woman who was now as near to him as was
his own heart — ^the one that he had taken into his life as
a part of himself, and with whom he hoped to live in
happiness all the rest of his days. But he conceived
that it was his duty to place her in possession of all
facts that bore upon the character of the family into
which he hoped, erelong, to introduce her. That family,
he believed, was tainted with a tendency to insanity,
and perhaps disgraced by an atrocious crime committed
by one of its members. It might be that she, actuated
by prudential motives, would prefer not to marry a man
vdth such a family history as he had. He did not
believe that she would take any such course with him,
but it was possible she might, and, at any rate, the choice
ought to be given her. She would love him all the
more, perhaps, for his confidence in her reasoning
faculties, even if she should repel with indignation the
idea of separating from him.

REVELATIONS. 301

" My darling," he said, as he drew her still closer to
him, ^'you are so good yourself that it is impossible
for you to suspect the existence of evil in others. It
may be that a great crime has been committed. You
shall hear what further I have to tell you, and then you
will be able to judge for yourself.

" We went to Annapolis, as my uncle had arranged,
and we stopped at the same hotel at which Hogarth and
his wife had stopped. It was late when we arrived, so
we did nothing that night toward the investigation of
the matter of my uncle's vision ; but the next morning
Uncle Victor went into the office, and 1 with him, and
we had a long conversation with the clerk. Of course
nothing was said relative to my uncle's suspicions. He
told who he was — and the clerk had suspected that we
were relatives as soon as he had read our names in the
register — and of course it was natural that we should
evince an interest in all the circumstances connected with
the awful tragedy that a few days before had occurred
at the hotel.

" We found at once that the sympathies of the clerk
were strongly with Hogarth. Nothing, so far as we could
learn, could have been more decorous than my brother's
conduct on the occasion, and no one had ever shown more
poignant grief."

" Oh, Jack, could he possibly have been guilty ?"
exclaimed Barbara. '' I cannot believe it I It is too
horrible a thought for me to conceive. It would have
been such a monstrous and so utterly inhuman a crime
that I cannot think it possible."

Jack said nothing in answer to this outburst of emo-
tion, but as he went on his voice trembled and became
more husky.

802 MB. OLDMIXON.

^' ^ Did Mrs. Oldmixon,' asked my nncle, * have no
premonitory symptoms of disease ? Was she well all
through that day up to the time of her death ? '

^' ' They arrived here the night before,' answered
the clerk, ' and ate a hearty supper. Mrs. Oldmixon
expressed a desire to take a walk, and though it was
after nine o'clock, her husband at once got ready to go
with her. He was devoted to her. But then,' he add^,
with a smile, ^ they had been just married. They
were only gone a few minutes ; they had walked up to
the church and then around the circle, and had come
straight back to the hotel. It was all she saw of An-
napolis, for the next day it rained in torrents.' "

As Jack uttered these words Barbara gave a start and
turned pale. ' ' Oh, Jack, ' ' she exclaimed, as she jumped
up from the sofa in her excitement, '' that is exactly as
your uncle saw it in his vision."

''Yes, dear ; sit down and hear the rest."

'^ No, I cannot sit down ; 1 am too much excited. I
must walk. G-o on, please."

'' As the clerk spoke these words, my uncle gave
me a significant look, as much as to say, ' This is the
first point.'

'^ ' May we see the rooms that my poor niece occu-
pied ? ' inquired my uncle ; ' we would like to spend
a few minutes alone in them. It would be a melancholy
pleasure for us to see the place where she met such an
untimely death I '

" The clerk called a servant. ' Show these gentlemen
to No. 22,' he said."

*'"WTiat!" said Barbara, ''the same number that
your uncle mentioned 1 Oh," she continued, covering
her face with her hands, '' 1 know what is coming. It

BEVELATIONS. 803

was true, everything was just as your uncle saw it 1 My
poor Jack !" throwing her arms around his neck and
bursting into tears as she lay on his breast. '' 1 cannot
tell you how much I feel for you, but you will know.
And that poor woman 1 Oh, did he really kill her ?"

Jack was too much overcome to answer. His voice
was choked and the tears were streaming down his
cheeks. The two '' ninnies," some people may call
them — ^but very human for all that ; and is not the world
mainly made up of ^^ ninnies," in all their varieties ? —
stood for some time clasped in each other's arms. Jack
did his best to soothe Barbara, and she was equally
assiduous in calming him. The shock was over. She
was in a great measure prepared for what was to come,
and she had not faltered in her love, and, what was
more, very evidently did not intend to falter. After
a little while both became suflSciently composed to admit
of the one telling the remainder of his story and of the
other listening.

" We were shown up to the rooms, and, dismissing the
servant, we entered. A glance was suflScient to show
us, as we stood with the plans in our hands that Uncle
Victor had drawn, that the rooms and the articles of
furniture and the arrangements were exactly as we had
them before us. There was the window at which
Hogarth had stood, there the table in the centre of the
room, there the chair in which his wife had been rock-
ing herseK, there every other article of furniture in the
sitting-room, in the identical positions in which we had
them on our diagrams.

^' ' It is the same,' said my uncle in a low but emphatic
voice. ' Everything is, as you see, precisely as we have
it here ; and there,' he continued, as he pointed toward

304 MR. OLDMIJCOK.

it, ' is the door through which he carried his poor wife
to her death. Come, Jack,' he went on, * follow me
into the next room ; there you will see the bed upon
which he laid her, and the pillow with which he
smothered the life out of her. '

*'l went with him," resumed Jack, after there had
been a little more comforting on both sides, " and there,
sure enough, was everything exactly as we had it on our
plans. Of course I was both astounded and horrified
by the revelations of facts that were brought so vividly
and truthfully before me. I did not know what to
think. I had no precedent to which the experience
through which I was then passing could be compared.
I could only drop into a chair and cover my face with
my hands so as to shut out the fearful images around
me.

'' But I could not dissipate the thoughts that were
passing through my mind, or banish the picture of the
awful deed as it had been described by Uncle Victor.
Over and over again the scene was enacted before my
mental eyes. 1 saw Hogarth standing at the window ;
then turn and seize his wife, his face distorted by the
most frightful passion ; then hurry with her to the next
room, while she struggled to free herself from the grasp
that she probably knew, from the look in his eyes, was
meant to end in her death ; then his throwing her on the
bed and suffocating her with the pillow, without giving
her the mercy of even a single breath. I trust I may
never again have such images in my mind. They stuck
to me for several days and nights, until 1 thought I
should go wild. Indeed, my darling, it was the sight
of your dear face yesterday in the car that finally sent
them away, I hope, forever."

REVELATIONS. 305

Barbara made the customary response to this state-
ment, and, after a short delay, not improper under the
circumstances, Jack again took up the thread of his
discourse.

" My uncle acted with the utmost coolness and delib-
eration ; only once did he break down, and that was
when he saw the bed upon which he firmly believed a
murderous deed had been done. Then he fell on his
knees before the bed and remained for several minutes
with his head bowed upon it. Rising suddenly to his
feet, he swore the most solemn oath, that there should
be a life for a life, even if he himself had to be the
avenger."

*'l can scarcely reah'ze it all," said Barbara. "It
seems too horrible for belief, that your brother would
commit so awful a crime. And I cannot and will not
believe it. Is there no escape from the conclusion which
at first sight appears to be the only one to be drawn ?"

" Now, let'us try and get the matter before us in a logi-
cal way," said Jack, putting on an impressive manner.
"My uncle describes to me rooms and furniture and
arrangements, the ideas of which, he tells me, were given
to him in a mysterious manner as he sat on the lawn at
Saratoga. It would be too great a tax upon our faith in
chance to say that the points of his vision and the
actual facts as we found them at Annapolis agree merely
through the accidental coincidence of a dream with
reality. The items of agreement are too many for that
alternative. So that, if we admit that my uncle told the
truth as regards his vision or dream, or whatever else you
choose to call it, we are bound to admit further that there
is a strong probability of the truth of those parts that
have not yet been confirmed."

306 MS. OLDidxoiir.

" Yes, it would seem bo."

^^ It is therefore, after all, a question of probabilitieB,
and only of probabilities, even if we accept my unde's
assertions in their entirety. Nevertheless, the probabil-
ities are so strong as to amount almost to a demonstra-
tion."

'^I'm afraid that is so. Jack," replied Barbara,
musingly.

^^ But now," continued Jack, becoming still more
emphatic, ^^ suppose that there is not a word of truth to
my uncle's story, what then ?"

" Jack I"

'^ Yes, I say, suppose there is no truth whatever in the
account he gave me, what then ? It was possible for
him to have heard while he was at Saratoga of the death
of Hogarth's wife ; to have gone to Annapolis, to have
ascertained all about the matter — ^the rooms, the artidcB
of furniture and their positions on the floors — ^to have
taken the clerk into his confidence, and then to have
come back to New York and to have concocted this
story of a vision or of some other supernatural perform-
ance. I am sorry to say, from what I know of him,
that I think he is entirely capable of doing all that for
the purpose of avenging himself on Hogarth, who, he
imagines, has terribly injured him."

"Is it possible, Jack, that he would commit so dis-
honorable an act ?"

" I think it quite possible ; though, at the same time,
I am bound to say that 1 don't think he did. It is easier,
however, for me to believe that such was his conduct
than to believe in the story of the supernatural that he
has related. It is only giving Hogarth the benefit of
the doubt in a reasonable and just way ; and until I know

REVELATIONS. 307

that Uncle Victor did not leave Saratoga, and that he
had no communication with Annapolis, I shall hold my
belief in abeyance."

^' That is right ; we will not believe your brother to
be a murderer till we have something more than your
uncle's word for it — till, in fact, we have investigated
him. Is that what you mean, Jack ?"

" Something like that. 1 shall run up to Saratoga to-
morrow and find out all 1 can in regard to his move-
ments while he was there, and especially as to whether
or not he left Saratoga at any time. If, as he says, he
called out for help, the women that came to him will, of
course, recollect the fact. Now, dear, I have only a little
more to tell. We came back from Annapolis over-
whelmed with the weight of the information we had
obtained, but Uncle Victor was very quiet. He seemed
to be lost in thought over what had occurred and in
endeavoring to determine upon his future course. On
our arrival in New York, he drove at once to his
residence, making no allusions when we parted to what
I knew was filling his mind, but merely requesting me
to call and see him in the morning at as early an hour as
possible. I went, and then he told me that he had writ-
ten to Hogarth requesting him to let bygones be bygones,
and to come and live in his house. ^ You see. Jack,' he
said, * I know that he killed my poor Camilla, but my
knowledge is not the knowledge for ^a jury. I'm going
to wring the confession out of him, and to do that 1 am
obliged to dissemble. Eemember,' he went on, ^ that, as
I told you before, he's a basilisk, and the only animal that
can destroy a basilisk is a weasel, and I'm the weasel
in this case. The weasel, in the days when there were
basilisks, made use of its cunning as its principal offen-

308 MB. OLDMIXON.

sive weapon, just as it does now when it attacks chickeii-
coops. I have to do the same thing. If I did not, the
scoundrel would escape me, and that he never shalL'

" It was in vain that 1 remonstrated ; I left him more
angry with me than he had been since our reconciliation,
for I told him that 1 would not enter his house while
Hogarth was there. I acted thus not only because my
uncle was playing the part of a traitor, but for the reason
also that I did not care to resume friendly relations with
Hogarth after he had for so many years treated me with
neglect and contumely."

'^ You were right. Jack dear," said Barbara, "both
your reasons are good ones."

" Thanks 1 1 am glad you think so. As matters now
stand, Hogarth is apparently reinstated in his uncle's
regards, and I am again discarded. I saw on the table
the draft of what looked like a new will. He will
execute this, show it to Hogarth, and thus, as he said,
make him believe that he is the heir.

" That is all, my darling," continued Jack. " I
thought it right that you should know that the family of
the man that you have promised to marry is a tainted
one, that the man's brother is suspected of having mur-
dered his wife, and that he may end his days on a gal-
lows. You may, therefore, if you marry me, live to see
the day on which your brother-in-law will be hanged by
the neck till he is dead. It is not a pleasant prospect,"
he went on bitterly, " and I should not blame you if,
now that you know the truth, yoa should decline the
honor of an alliance with a family with such a blurred
escutcheon as ours."

Of course this was all talk on Jack's part. He knew
very well that Barbara was not the kind of a woman to

EEVELATI0N8. 309

give Tip her lover for another's sins or crimes, but he
wanted to receive the assurance of her devotion and
constancy, and it is needless to say that he got them.

The next morning he escorted Barbara into town, and
always afterward met her at the station and went with
her to Mr. Maurice's studio, calling for her again in the
afternoon and seeing her safely on the train. In this
way he managed to meet her twice every day, to his and
her unmitigated delight. On Saturdays he went to
Lasata with her, passing Sundays in her company, and
eveiy day loving her, if possible, more devotedly than
he had the previous day. It was determined that their
marriage should take place early in the following March,
and that the newly married couple should, as Mr. Hen-
schel insisted, make the old manor-house their home.
There was therefore going to be ample work for Barbara
and her father in fitting up the additional rooms that
would be required.

CHAPTEE XXI.

'^BY heaven! that tofohed him."

Mk. Oldmixon sat in a revolving chair in front of a
table loaded with books and papers. The room was his
library, for Mr. Oldmixon was a man of literary and
scientific tastes, which it was a pleasure to him to gratify,
and which accordingly he did gratify to the extent of hifl
power. He had always been a self-indulgent man, but as
his tendencies had never been toward dissipation or im-
morality, the results of yielding to them had been favor-
able both to his mind and his body. At one time he had
had serious thoughts of turning his attention to authorship,
and many years before he is introduced to the reader had
written several short stories and one novel. The former
had, after some trouble in finding a medium for bringing
them before the public, been accepted by a magazine
which, a short time after publishing them, had gone the
way of many of its predecessors, and been heard of no
more. The channel for his lucubrations was therefore
closed, and this fact had acted in so dispiriting a manner on
Mr. Oldmixon, that he gave up authorship and turned his
attention to reading and to the cultivation of gastronomic
science. In order to indulge himself to the full in the
new directions in which he had looked, he required
two things — a library and a kitchen — and he had at once,
with such knowledge of the necessities of the occasion as
he possessed, and without advice from any one, set out to

*^^BY heaven! that touched him." 311

supply himself. Relative to the library he knew tolerably
well what he wanted. The first thing, of course, was a
room ; and not having a suitable one in his house, he had
built an addition, which, when he had finished it and
stocked it with books to the number of over ten thousand,
he declared was the most complete private library for a
non-professional gentleman, such as was he, to be found
anywhere within the limits of the United States. " It's
not so big as some I've seen," he said one day to a dis-
tinguished gentleman to whom he was exhibiting his ac-
cumulations, " but it contains some of the rarest literary
treasures to be found on the earth. I never bay any edi-
tion of an old book but the first. I have seventy Elzevirs,
taller than any others to be found, and one hundred and
twenty-three vellum Aldine editiones prmoipea. You
see, I've been all over the world ; I knew just where to
go to get my treasures. Do you see this Aldus ?"

" What ?" asked the distinguished gentleman, who had
been the governor of one of the States, and was then a
Cabinet Minister.

"This Aldus."

"I should call it a book," observed the distinguished
gentleman, taking it into his hands and turning it over
and over.

" Of course it's a book," said Mr. Oldmixon, in a tone
of disgust, " but it happens to be a copy of the first edi-
tion of Martial, printed by Aldus in the year 1501. As
you see, it's printed on vellum. It is one of five known
to exist, and it cost me just three hundred and fifty
dollars."

The distinguished gentleman threw up his hands in as-
tonishment. " Three hundred and fifty dollars for that
little book 1 What a waste of money 1"

312 MB. OLDHIXOIf.

*'Not at all, sir," replied Mr. Oldmixon, a little irri-
tated by the disparaging speech of his friend ; " books
like this double in value every ten years. 1 expect to live
twenty years yet, so that when I die and my library
comes to be sold by my unappreciative heir, this litlile
book will sell for exactly three thousand dollars. Not a
bad investment, is it, even from your point of view ? You
wouldn't be likely to make as much out of a farm in
Minnesota, would you ? You've heard of -^sop, I sup-
pose?" he continued, in a rather contemptuous tone.

" Oh, yes, the man that wrote the fables.' '

" The same. Well, here's a copy of the first printed
Latin edition of his book. Look at it — ^look at it 1 Did
you ever see anything more beautiful in all your life?
What paper, what ink, what a register ! Now, look at
the colophon, and you wiU see that it was printed at
Milan, in the year 14:74 — three hundred and two years be-
fore the Declaration of Independence, and more than four
hundred years from this day."

"I can't read a word of it," said the distinguished
gentleman, turning over the leaves, and laughing heartily.

** Of course you can't. There are two impediments
to your doing so. In the first place, it's printed in Lat-
in ; and in the second place, it's printed in Gothic black
letter. "

'' Very fine, I've no doubt, but I can buy a better copy
for a quarter."

^' If you wanted to read it, yes. But that copy cost
eight hundred francs seven years ago. It's worth about
fourteen hundred now — say two hundred and eighty
dollars. But I see you don't appreciate these things.
Here's a copy of Smith's ^Life of Andrew Jackson.'
Observe the beautiful chromo-lithographs of the old

" BY HEAVEK ! THAT TOITOHED HIM." 313

hero," he went on, with an ironical expression in his
voice that the distinguished gentleman, had he been ob-
servant, would have quickly detected. '' See with what
consummate skill the artist — printer I should have said
— has colored the hair and cheeks and uniform of the
gallant general 1 Is it not a beautiful production ?"

^* Splendid 1 I must have a copy of that. General
Jackson has no more devoted admirer than myself."

^' Take that copy, I beg of you. Smith presented it
to me, but I shall feel highly honored by your accept-
ance of it, and," he added to himself, '' I shaU be devil-
ish glad to get the vile book out of my library."

With his novel, however, Mr. Oldmixon had not been
so successful as with his library. In fact, beyond the
accomplishment of the work of writing it, he had not
been successful at all. He had submitted it to a few lit-
erary friends, and they had unanimously decided against
publication — one going so far as to say that he had
never read a worse novel, unless it was '' The Dwellers
in Five Sisters' Court," that one Mudder had written.
In such matters friends are very much like a council
of war. The latter always advise against fighting, and
the former always advise against publishing.

Then he had taken it first to one publishing house,
and then to another, and each one had some reason for
not desiring to bring it before the public, that the author
was sure was eagerly waiting to snap it up, edition after
edition. One thought it "too realistic" and another
*' not sufficiently realistic for this matter-of-fact world,''
while others simply sent it back with thanks, but regret-
ting that their " readers" had advised against publication.
One house had offered the use of their imprint, if he

would pay all the expenses of publication, and give fifty
14

314 MS. OLBICIXOK.

per cent of the retail price for their trouble in placmg
it in the market ; bnt this proposition Mr.Oldmixon had
indignantly declined, saying that he was an author, not
a publisher.

Then, declaring that the pirates — ^meaning thereby pub-
lishers — had entered into a combination to keep his
novel from appearing before the world, he took his man-
uscript and locked it up, asserting that he would not
look at it again for twenty years, and that then he should
publish it without doubt, as all the houses that now re-.
fused it would be ready to tear each other's eyes out for
the honor of having their firm-names associated with
his.

But with his kitchen he was at first the recipient of
more disappointment and misfortune than generally ftll
to the lot of a person that enters upon culinary opera-
tions. If he had known nothing about the theory of the
subject, and had had the palate of a clodhopper, he
would undoubtedly have gotten along very well ; but
with the knowledge he had gained by reading, and by
eating many good dinners in various parts of the world,
and, above all, by the high state of development into
which he had brought his gustatory nerves, his experience
in the kitchen was at first anything but satisfactory.
The man that does not know what good cooking is can
always cook to suit himself. Mr. Oldmixon did know
what it was, and hence his deficiency in technical knowl-
edge was the cause to him of much vexation of spirit

Nevertheless, he persevered, and at last hired a chefoi
the highest celebrity to give him lessons in the cuhnary
art. The first step taken by this eminent possessor oi
the cordon hleu was to demand that a kitchen be built as
an addition to the house, insisting that the basement

" BY HEAVEN 1 THAT TOUCHED HIM." 315

hitherto used was altogether unfitted, by lack of air and
light, for the occupancy of a true artist, such as he con-
sidered himself to be. Moreover, the library, a far less
important affair than a kitchen, had had a building es-
pecially erected for it, and the department over which he
was to preside should be equally favored. So, at an ex-
pense of several thousand dollars, an addition was built
and was fitted up in accordance with the wishes of the
gentleman who had condescended to act in the capacity
of teacher to Mr, Oldmixon.

And a perfect affair of its kind it was, with its Paris-
ian range, its bright copper saucepans, its marble mortar,
and all the other utensils devised by ingenious inventors
and needed for the various complicated processes neces-
sary in the preparation of the delectable compounds that
an advanced civilization has discovered. Here for three
hours every day Mr. Oldmixon took lessons, until at the
end of the year he had become as fully an accomplished
culinary artist as the chef^ his instructor. It was here,
after he had acquired all that this eminent individual
could teach him, that he had performed the experiments
in gastronomic science that had given him such a high
position with gourmands throughout the civilized world.
It is scarcely necessary to add that it was here that he
had developed the capabilities of the frog's liver, and had
established the fact that at least a dozen wonderful
dishes coidd be compounded with it for their basis.

As stated in the beginning of this chapter, Mr. Old-
mixon was seated in his Ubrary in front of a table cov-
ered with books and papers. He was deeply engaged
in perusing a voluminous manuscript that lay before
him, and from time to time making corrections in its
text. These latter appeared to be of a very extensive

ffi

.316 MB. OLBMIXON.

character, for not only did lie erase and interline on
almost every page, but not infrequently lie ent out with
a big pair of scissors large slips from the pages, and
occasionally destroyed several pages in one lot, substitut-
ing new matter for that that he threw into the waste-
paper basket. The twenty years had expired, and this
was the novel that he had that long time ago laid aside,
and which he was now revising, with the intention of
again offering it to a publisher.

But he had very materially modified the determina-
tion which twenty years ago he had expressed. Then
he had asserted that he would offer his book for publica-
tion on the termination of the period mentioned with-
out the changing of a sentence, a word, or even a punc-
tuation-mark, and that the fraternity that supplies the
world with literary pabulum would eagerly strive for
the honor of spreading his production over the land.
He had, as I say, changed his intention, for now he was
making alterations so extensive that it looked very much
as though he were reconstructing the manuscript from
the beginning to the end.

He had been engaged in this work since nine o'clock,
and it was now nearly one. He looked at the table
clock before him, and then, apparently surprised at the
rapid flight of time, gathered his papers together, and
putting them into a drawer, locked it and hid the key on
one of the library shelves behind the books, or rather
behind a particular book, the title of which he had in
his pocket. He was obliged to resort to this mnemonic
device, for his memory, as he advanced in years, was
becoming treacherous. It now wanted five minutes of
one. Mr. Oldmixon took up a volume from the table
and began its perusal, seating himself in an arm-chair

*'by heaven! that touched him." 317

big enough to hold two like him, and throwing his head
back till it was supported on the luxuriously cushioned
surface behind, at that angle that was most conducive
to the comfort of its possessor. Every now and then
he glanced at the clock, as though counting the minutes
that would elapse before some expected event. At last
the hands on the dial indicated one o'clock, and almost
at the very moment there was a knock on the door. Mr.
Oldmixon said " Come in," at the same time redoub-
ling his attention to the book he held in his hand, so that
the visitor had taken several steps into the room before
the old gentleman suddenly became aware of his presence,
and throwingthe volume on the table, held out his hand.

^' Punctual to the minute, my dear boy ; that's what
I like to see. Your married life, short as it was, seems
to have improved you. Ah, my dear Hogarth, if she
had only lived, what a splendid fellow she'd have made
of you in time !"

^^ Yes, Uncle Victor," answered Hogarth, in tones the
lugubriousness of which would have moved an anchorite
to tears, and which really appeared to have that effect
on Mr. Oldmixon, as he hastily took out his handker-
chief and applied it to his eyes — " yes, uncle, she is a
great loss to me. Although 1 think 1 appreciated her
while she lived, I never knew all that she was worth to
me till she was dead. I think if you had not again
taken me into your favor I should have terminated my
own existence."

" Ah ! Well, well, death has to come in some form or
other to all of us, and those whom the gods love die
young. But don't talk of suicide ! You make me
tremble, lest, in some one of your despairing moments,
you should be tempted to put an end to your existence."

-u. . '^ " '"^

318 MR. OLDMIXOir.

Mr. Oldmixon was sitting in front of the mantel mir-
ror, as was also Hogarth. By looking into the glass, the
old gentleman coald see the reflection of his nephew's
face without appearing to be regarding it. In fact,
he had arranged the chaira with direct reference to this
matter ; and as he intended that every day at one oVlock
his nephew shonld pay him a visit, he expected to he
able to study at his leisure, and with the advantage of
not being suspected, a face that he had resolved should
be made to respond to the mental tortures he should
inflict.

"I sometimes feel tired of life," said Hogarth,
moodily ; '' I had looked forward to many happy years of
existence with the woman I loved, and then to have — "
Yes, it is very hard," interrupted Mr. Oldmixon.

I wonder if she suffered much in dying ?" he contin-
ued, looking into the mirror as he spoke ; '^ it is said that
in some of these heart and lung diseases the agony is
very acute. Now," he thought, "if the scoundrel has
any feeling at all 1 shall perceive it."

But Hogarth remained quite unmoved under this
attack. " I do not think she could have had any pain
at all," he answered, coolly; "she probably died in
her sleep."

" I have just been reading here," continued Mr. Old-
mixon, still looking in the glass at Hogarth, " that con-
gestion of the lungs produces a sensation of suffocation,
and from the little 1 know of that process it is painf uL
I was once nearly suffocated." " By Heaven !" he con-
tinued to himself, "that touched him." And it had
touched him, for at the reference to suffocation Ho-
garth's face had become several shades paler, and he had
moved uneasily on his chair.

"by heaven 1 THAT TOUCHED HIM." 319

" I did — did — ^not know that yon had ever been nearly
snf — snf — " he stammered.

" Suffocated I" exclaimed Mr. Oldmixon. " It is a
rather difficult word to pronounce, but 1 never knew
you to stammer before. Ton are weak and nervous, my
boy. Say ^ smothered ' instead ; it is a good deal easier,
and more appropriate. Yes, I was once nearly smoth-
ered."

Again Hogarth was moved. He glanced furtively
at his nncle, and the comers of his month twitched a
little, as thongh he were endeavoring to control himself.

He did not care to talk abont the subject that Mr.
Oldmixon had introduced, and yet he felt that if he did
not ask for further information he would run the risk
of exciting surprise in the mind of his uncle, and that
this feeling might easily lead to the development of
some other emotion — suspicion, perhaps. Still he re-
mained silent so long that Mr. Oldmixon turned toward
him, and repeated the assertion.

"Yes," he said, "I was once nearly smothered.
Don't you care to hear about it ?"

" Certainly," answered Hogarth, with an attempt at
a laugh, ^^ although such things are not pleasant subjects
of conversation. How was it ?"

" I was a young man at the time, not quite your
present age, and was walking through a trench that had
been dug for the purpose of receiving pipes for a water-
supply. The sides were about eight feet high, and
were not supported by boards, as they ought to have
been. Suddenly one side caved in just opposite to
where 1 was standing, and I was completely covered by
the falling earth. I at once felt the most severe pain
in my head, and at the same time a sensation of burning

820 MB. OLDMIXOIf.

in my chest, as though there was a fiery furnace there.
But these physical suflEerings were nothing to what I
experienced mentally. I had the idea that some one
was sitting on my chest, and thereby preventing the
access of air I I thoaght I struggled with this mur-
derer with all the strength I had, but I could not shake
him oflE. There he continued to sit, grinning with
diabolical malice at my feeble attempts to get rid of
him — attempts that I felt were every moment becom-
ing more and more futile. Then I lost consciousness,
and when 1 came to myself I was lying on the bed in
my own house. Some men had seen the caving in of
the earth, and had come to my assistance. I was buried
nearly five minutes. The doctor said that a minute
longer would have been fatal, as there was no instance
on record of a suffocated person living five minutes."

Mr. Oldmixon spoke all this in an indifferent sort of
a tone, as though he were telling some commonplace
incident ; but he nevertheless did not fail to keep his
eyes on Hogarth through the medium of the mirror.
To his great disappointment, his nephew exhibited no
emotion whatever beyond a sort of languid interest,
perfectly explainable by the fact that the sufferer was
his uncle. He had recovered his composure. His mind
was now on the alert, and he did not mean to allow his
emotions to run away with him if he could help it. He
knew that this was his weak point, and that he had noth-
ing to fear except from himself ; and he was aware of the
fact that if he wanted to prevent his exposure, he must
learn to restrain the manifestation of his feelings when
suffocation and smothering were the subjects of conver-
sation. He was sensible that he had, when his uncle be-
gan to talk, allowed his face to express the fear he felt ;

" BY HEAVEN ! THAT TOUCHED HIM." 321

but he did not believe that this had been noticed. The
more he reflected upon the matter, the more he was con-
vinced that his uncle could not possibly have any pur-
pose in view not apparent in his words. Why should
he have ? What information could he possess relative
to the crime that had been committed ? All the knowl-
edge of the act was locked up in his own heart, and
there he intended to keep it. He was safe — absolutely
safe, he thought, and he would show the world that he
could talk of smothering with as composed an air as the
judge on the bench or as the physician making a post-
mortem examination.

^'I am surprised," he said, with perfect coolness,
*Hhat you should have felt any pain. 1 have always
been under the impression that that mode of death wad
rather pleasant than otherwise." Then, moved by a
spirit of bravado that he could not resist, he added,
with a little laugh, ^' If I were going to kill a man I
think I should suffocate him. "

" Or a woman ?" inquired Mr. Oldmixon, with entire
nonehalance. ^' Would you kill a woman in the same
way ?"

*^ Oh, yes, I suppose so," answered Hogarth, rising
from his chair this time, for this blow was a little more
than he had expected, and he felt that he must hide his
face. '* What would be pleasant for a man would be
equally so for a woman. I hardly think that there is
any difference in the power to feel in the two sexes."

" Probably not," said Mr. Oldmixon, dryly ; '' and I
see, from a work on medical jurisprudence that I have
here, that the post-mortem evidences of death from
fimothering — that was the word, I think, we agreed to use
— are very uncertain, and that no positive opinion on the

14*

322 MB. OLDHIXOK.

subject could be given by the most accomplished phy-
sician, unless he had some knowledge of the attendant
circumstances. Therefore, my dear Hogarth, it would
appear that you would choose well ; for unless you had
quarrelled with the lady or had done something else to
excite suspicion against you, you would be absolutely
safe."

Hogarth stood at the window, with his back to Mr.
Oldmixon, while the latter was delivering these remarks,
so that his face was invisible ; but his uncle knew that
this shot told, for he could see his whole frame tremble,
his head fall toward his chest, and liis fingers clutch spas-
medically at the palms of his hands.

Hogarth was in reality completely stunned by this
onslaught. He could not speak. He began to think
that his uncle must have some knowledge of his crime,
and already the idea suggested itseK to him that if
smothering were so safe an act for the criminal, why
not try it on this man, who, purposely or ignorantly,
was torturing his soul ? It was a question to be deeply
pondered. Certainly, however, this was not the time
to make the attempt, when it was known to several
persons that he was in his uncle's library. There was a
time for all things, and doubtless there would be an op-
portunity for the deed he contemplated when it could
be perpetrated without suspicion attaching to him.

As for Mr. Oldmixon, he sat and watched his nephew
as he stood with his back to him. He saw the involuntary
contraction of the fingers, produced by the emotion and
the thought that at the moment swayed him. " The
scoundrel is contemplating smothering me," he said to
himself. '' That is just the way his fingers twitched ''
before he killed his wife."

\

CHAPTER ZXIL

THE TORTUBE IS CONTINUED.

Mb. Oldmixon's house was a largo one, and there was,
therefore, ample room in it for Hogarth. His uncle had
given hira the whole of the third floor, consisting of
four large rooms, with their appurtenances.

No one could have been more surprised than was
Hogarth when he received his uncle's letter, stating
that he regretted that he had required his lawyer to
write the communication that had been sent to Annap-
olis, that he should make a new will, similar in its pro-
visions to the flrst, and that the change in his disposition
had been efiEected by knowledge that had come to him
that he had been mistaken in regard to certain circum-
stances that had influenced him to break with his
nephew.

Hogarth had at once obeyed the command to call
on him that Mr. Oldmixon gave, and also the further
direction to live in the same house with him. The
warmth of his reception convinced him of its reality, and
he now saw his way clear to the acquisition of his uncle's
estate, an event which, he was assured, could not be very
long delayed. Certainly the old gentleman had begun
to show within the last few weeks the inroads that his
advanced age was making on his constitution.

"A month or two longer," thought Hogarth, as he
looked at him, ^^ and then all will be mine,"

324 MB. OLDMtXON.

He had asked for no explanation of his uncle's course
toward him. He was back in his old place, and appar-
ently more jBxed than ever, and that was enough for
him. Inquiry might provoke discussion, and he was
too wise a man to raise issues that were unnecessary and
the outcome of which no one could predict. Things
were well enough as they were, and he was one of those
men that '' let well enough alone." He had only been
an inmate of his uncle's house two days when the in-
terview, the particulars of which are given in the im-
mediately foregoing chapter, took place. It was the
first time that Mr. Oldmixon had opened his batteries,
and, upon the whole, he was well satisfied with the result.
He had made an impression on his enemy, and that,
under the circumstances, was a good deal. However,
he had done tliis with his small guns — ^guns that were not
intended to do more than to harass and worry, without
inflicting any serious damage. After he had bombarded
with them for a few weeks, and had gotten his man into
a state of semi-insanity, he would make use of his
heavier ammunition, and he did not doubt that the
result would be in accordance with his wishes. The
climax would come. In what exact form, of course he
did not know ; but it would be suflSciently decisive.

For a moment, occasionally, he felt some slight degree
of pity for his victim. To be subject, day after day, to
the influence of reminders of his crime, made in the
most insinuating and apparently most innocent way,
without the shadow of an object that could be perceived,
was in itself a terrible punishment. Mr. Oldmixon was
sufficiently well acquainted with the kind of nervous
organization possessed by the Oldmixons — by all within
his knowledge, except Jack — ^to know just what the

THE TORTXTRE IS COTTTKS^UED. 325

effect of such continual reiteration would be. He had
only to examine into his own nature a little in order to
freshen his ideas on the subject and to convince himself
that Hogarth had already begun to pay the penalty of
his crime. Occasionally, as I have said, a little gleam
of pity for his nephew would sweep through his mind ;
but one tliought of what Camilla had suflEered was suffi-
cient to dissipate this feeling and to nerve him for fresh
attempts in the direction of avenging her wrongs.

Several days elapsed after the incident recorded in
'the previous chapter before anything very notable oc-
curred, though there was not one in which Mr. Old-
mixon did not, though in the most ingenious and ap-
parently unsophisticated way, make some allusion to
suffocation as a means of causing death. Sometimes it
was by one way, and sometimes by another.

"By the by, Hogarth," he said one morning, when
they were at breakfast — ^he took his meals at home now,
for Hogarth, not being a member of the LucuUus Club,
could not enjoy the privileges of the institution — " did
you read that account of the curious way in which a
peasant in France killed his wife ?"

" I suppose he suffocated her," answered Hogarth,
crossly ; '^ that mode of murder seems to be running in
your mind pretty strongly now. Uncle Victor."

" It is, my dear boy, it is I But did we not agree
that you should use the word ^ smothered ' ? I remem-
ber that the first time I introduced the subject you
could not readily pronounce the word ^suffocated.'
Now you rattle it off as though you had been practis-
ing it. You didn't use to stammer before your mar-
riage ; but listen to my story. It certainly does present
the most original method of smothering that I ever

326 KB. OLBXIXOK.

heard of. The man^ a fimall farmer, quarrelled with his
wife ; 80 what does he do but pick her up in his arms
and cany her into the next room, where there was a
corn-bin full of nice clean yellow com, and plunge her
head foremost into the mass of grain I There he held
her for five minutes, notwithstanding her struggles, and
then, when he pulled her out, she was quite dead.
Now, did jou ever hear of such a mode of smothering a
woman as that ?"

" No, no!" exclaimed Hogarth, roused to an emotion
somewhat complex in character, for fear and anger and
horror entered into its composition ; '' I never did, and
I never want to hear of such things again ; I am nervous
and irritable, and not myself. I can't sleep ; my head is
almost constantly aching ; my heart palpitates painfully
under the least excitement — all, 1 suppose, caused by the
death of my wife ; then these things that you are always
talking about make me worse. I shall not sleep to-night,
for seeing that man ramming his wife's head into the
corn. 1 shall see her struggling limbs and her livid
face when he takes her out of the bin. If 1 were well
I should not care ; but till 1 get stronger, please. Uncle
Yictor, don't bring up such horrible subjects for con-
versation."

^* My poor boy," said Mr. Oldmixon, in a piteous
tone of voice, '^ I beg your pardon ; I did not know that
a subject so far removed from your life as is that of suffo-
cation, or smothering, could cause you pain ; but 1 said
nothing about the woman's face being livid ; what made
you think it was livid ?"

^^ Oh, 1 don't know I" exclaimed Hogarth, wearily;
^^ it was only a guess ; her face may have been green,
for all I know."

THE TORTURE IS CONTINUED. 327

^* Well,- well, we'll not say anything more about it ;
let us talk of something more agreeable. I have my
will here in the drawer ; would you like me to read it to
you ?"

All this was more to Hogarth's liking than the subject
of murdering women by smothering them. He had an
intense degree of curiosity relative to the exact position
he occupied in his uncle's will.

He had not been able to obtain any information on
the subject, for his friend, Mr. Jeremiah Masters, upon
whom he had been accustomed to rely for information
as to what was passing in Mr. Eidley's office, had parted
from his employer, and had set up for himself ; and
there was no one else of whom he could make use. He
had been told over and over again by Mr. Oldmixon that
matters had been restored to the staPu quo ante heUum,
but he did not know positively whether the will was
signed or not ; and until he possessed that knowledge
the matter of treating his uncle as he had treated his
wife could not come up in his mind for due deliberation
and iinal determination. Yes, he would like to hear
the will read ; but, at the same time, it would not be
prudent to display too much interest in its contents.

^'Anything," he said, with a faint smile, '^ would
be preferable to the gloomy subjects that we have been
discussing ; but as to your will, uncle, you will do what
you think right, and 1 shall be satisfied."

*' Yes, yes, of course ; but 1 think you might as well
know positively how great is my affection for you, and
how 1 have tried to show it in a practical way. Sit
down, then, my dear boy, and listen. This, to be sure,
is only the rough draft of my will ; and if you would
like to make any suggestions, I shall be glad to hear them.

328 MR. OLBMIXOK.

I hare such entire confidence in yonr good commonHsense
and ideas of jnfitice."

As Mr. Oldmixon spoke these words a tinge of sarcasm
was apparent, or rather would have been apparent to
aknost any one but Hogarth. This yonng man was too
greatly interested in the substance of his uncle's remarks
to attend to the manner. The time had come in which
he was to be made acquainted with his prospects for the
future, and the character of those prospects was a subject
of greater importance to him than any emotional ex-
pression that his uncle might choose to throw into his
voice. If he had been a man of greater depth of char-
acter, he would have paid more attention to a feature
that, more than the words themselves, shows a speaker's
real thoughts.

^^ I trust," he said, " that you will never have cause
to repent of your confidence. Doubtless you have
heard stories to my disadvantage, and it is to them that
I owe your disfavor of a few weeks ago. I am glad that,
without any efitort of mine, you saw that 1 had been
wronged, and that of your own free and unsolicited will
you rectified the injustice I was for a time made to
suffer."

'* Yes, ray dear boy, that is all over. 1 am sure you
are everything that is good and true. Now, there is
Jack—"

^' Jack has no heart," interrupted Hogarth ; *' I have
not forgotten the way in which he treated you many
years ago. I suppose your recent experiment with him
was not satisfactory."

^' No, no ; it did not turn out well. We parted not
such enemies as we were, but, nevertheless, we parted."

" He hates me as he does the devil."

THE TOETIJBE IS CONTINUED. 329

" Ha I ha 1 very good ; I wonder, now, if he does hate
the devil,"

"I mean," said Hogarth, laughing gayly, ^'as he
ought to hate the devil."

** Oh, yes, of course, I understand," replied Mr. Old-
mixon. " Now, here is the draft that I propose to send
down to Mr. Ridley to-day," he continued, fumbling
among some papers, and finally extraxjting one from the
mass. ^* Give me your attention for a moment. It is
short, and I think to the point."

*' In the first paragraph I have giyen all my estate, of
every kind whatsoever, to my beloved nephew Hogarth
Oldmixon, and in the second I have appointed him sole
executor. Now, what do you think of that ? Short
and to the point, isn't it ?"

*' You overwhelm me, Uncle Victor ; I can only
hope that it may be many years before your will goes
into effect."

** Thanks, my dear boy ; 1 know yon are attached to
me. Now," he continued, regarding Hogarth through
the medium of the looking-glass, ^'1 did think at one
time of giving something to Jack — say a tenth part of
the estate — enough to give him a support if he should
become blind or otherwise unable to gain his living from
his profession ; but — "

"You thought better of it," again interrupted Ho-
garth. ^^ Jack is not capable of appreciating an act of
generosity. He is not of an affectionate nature, and all
he cares for in the world is himself. Self is Jack's
god."

** Maybe, maybe I" exclaimed Mr. Oldmixon. '^ I'm
not praising Jack ; I only thought that as he was my
nephew and your brother, you might be inclined to urge

■ -. A

830 MB. OLDlfflXOK.

the putting of his name in the will. Bnt I leave it all
to you, my boy — all to you.'^

'' Then I say no ; not because I am avaricious and
want all for myself, but solely because I know Jack is
not the kind of a man he ought to be. He deserted yon
while 1 stuck to you. It would be a sort of a premium on
ingratitude. Why, influenced by what I thought was
due to you and to myself, I stopped speaking to him
several years ago. It would — "

" Say no more," broke in Mr, Oldmixon ; *^ it shall
be as you wish ; I was sure you would not be influenced
by any other feeling than a desire to do strict justice."

" Yes, that's it 1" exclaimed Hogarth, taking eagerly
to the suggestion. ^^ If I looked at the matter from a
sentimental point of view, of course I should bear in
mind that Jack is my brother ; but this is one of those
subjects that sentiment has nothing to do with, and in
which impartial justice should be exercised. From that
point of view I think it would be wrong to give Jack
one cent."

^^ I am sure you are right ; your instincts are those of
a born judge whose ideas are always on the side of right.
Now, will you be kind enough to take this down to Mr.
Ridley and request him to put it in proper legal form,
and to return it to me ? Then, in a day or two I'll execute
it, and the matter will be off my mind. I feel some-
times as though I should not live long. You see, I am a
pretty old fellow, and my death may take place at any
moment. In fact, I have a little diflSculty of breathing
now," taking, as he spoke, his vial of the nitrite of amyl
from his pocket, and putting it to his nostrils — *^ a sort
of feeling of suffocation or smothering. By the by, do
you know what burking is ?"

THE TOETUBE IS CONTHOTED. 331

*^ No, indeed !" answered Hogarth, with a laugh.
He was in great good-humor now, and felt inclined to
be merry over everything. '' How should 1 know ?
K I had your learning, I should be a much wiser man
that 1 ever expect to be. What is it ?"

" You see how Iny mind is running continually on
one subject. I shouldn't be surprised if I became a
monomaniac on it. There's insanity in the family, you
know. Tour father was certainly a lunatic, so was your
grandfather, and so, also, was one of your aunts. I've
been called ^ queer ' all my life. Now, there's Jack.
He takes after his mother, and is level-headed, even if
he is heartless and selfish, as you say. But to go back
to burking. Burking is only another name for smother-
ing. It is generally done by its perpetrators by simply
putting the hand over the nose and mouth of the victim,
BO as to shut out the air."

" Smothering again 1" gasped Hogarth, sinking into
a chair, entirely overcome by the sudden revulsion of
feeling that Mr. Oldmixon's words had produced.
*' Is that matter to be always on your mind, and are you
always going to bring it up before me ? My God ! what
do you mean ?" he exclaimed, with sudden energy,
springing up from his chair and approaching his uncle.
" One would think that you are driving at me, and that
you thought I had smothered some one. "What do
you mean ? Tell me instantly, or — " He stretched
out his hands as though to seize his uncle by the throat
and force an answer out of him. The latter, who had
also risen, stood by the side of the table, one hand
resting carelessly on a little button raised about a half
an inch above the surface of the green cloth, the other
in his trousers pocket, apparently jingling a bunch of

332 MB. OLDMIXOl^.

keys. Nothing could have exceeded the coohiess and
composure manifested by Mr. Oldmixon. He knew
that Hogarth was entirely willing to strangle him then
and there, but he was also aware that he himself held
the trump card in the unexecuted will, and that all that
was necessary was to bring Hogarth to a sense of that
fact. Without, therefore, appearing to notice the excite-
ment under which his nephew labored, he said, in the
most unconcerned manner imaginable :

" Don't forget to see Ridley this morning, my dear
Hogarth. I want to get through with that matter as
soon as possible. You smother any one I" he continued ;
*^ I'd as soon suspect the President of the United States
of picking a pocket."

At the first words Hogarth's hands fell. It would
not do to use violence yet. The will by which Jack got
the estate was probably still in existence, and the new
one was unexecuted. No, he must wait. Matters were
not ripe yet for such extreme action.

"Yoii irritate me very much, Uncle Victor," he
said, in an injured tone of voice. " Year remarks are
so pointed, that for the moment it seems as though you
referred to me. Of course, when I come to reflect upon
the subject, I know that my suspicions are unwarranted ;
but reflection requires time. I am a very sensitive man,
and my recent great affliction has made me still more
so."

*' I should not have told you what burking is unless
you had asked me what the word meant. Did you never
hear of Burke and his partner Hare, who, many years
ago, made their living by suffocating people in the way
I mentioned, and then selling the dead bodies to the
medical colleges for dissection ? Eead the * History of

THE TOBTUBE IS CONTINUED. 333

Burke and Hare. ' I have it here, and will be happy to
lend it to you."

" I do not want to read it ; it must be very horrible 1"

*' Yes, it is horrible," rejoined Mr. Oldraixon, shrug-
ging his shoulders, " for all such descriptions .excite the
pity in a man's breast for the victims, as well as horror
and detestation of the criminals. But if horrible to us
when we simply read of the vile deeds, how much more
fearful must have been the feelings of the wretches who
murdered innocent people !"

^' Yes," answered Hogarth, moodily, ^^ they must have
experienced that greatest of all mental torments — ^re-
morse."

*' Of course — that is, if they had ordinary human
emotions. Now, look at this portrait of Burke," taking
up, as he spoke, the book from the table, and showing
Hogarth the picture of a brutal-looking man. " Did you
ever see a face so utterly devoid of the ' milk of human
kindness ' as that ? That man smothered about twenty
people. He used a very simple process — only stopping
the nose and mouth. Once, however, he put a pillow
over the face, and that he thought was a better plan, as it
prevented his seeing the last pleading look of the poor
creatures. Yes," he continued, as though talking to
himself, ''if I were going to smother a person, espe-
cially a woman, I should prefer to cover the face with a
pillow. 1 should not like to have that last look haunt-
ing my memory. Why, my dear boy I" as, looking
at Hogarth, ho saw his nephew standing erect, his eyes
dilated, his hands outstretched, his lips moving, but no
sound escaping, his face as pale at that of a ghost, and
his mind apparently oblivious to what was going on
about him. " Poor boy I" continued Mr. Qldmixon,

834 MB. OLDMIXON.

approaching the statue-like figure, '^ your troubles have
unnerved you; come," laying a hand on his shoulder,
and shaking him gently, ^' rouse yourself. Your nerves
are indeed weak. Hogarth 1" shaking him more vio-
lently, '^ what's the matter ? By Heaven ! I beUeve he
has a fit I" as his nephew remained rigid and uncon-
scious, his eyes staring at vacancy. " Well, well," he
said to himself, ^' 1 must go a little more slowly. He's
not quite ready to confess yet, and I'm not quite ready
to have him die. I wonder how my nitrite of amyl
would do for him ?"

Mr. Oldmixon took the little vial from his waistcoat
pocket, and pouring a few drops on a handkerchief, held
it to Hogarth's face. Almost instantly the spasm re-
laxed, the extended arms fell, the stare ceased, and, with
a long inspiration, consciousness was restored.

"I had a dream, I think," said Hogarth, feebly, as
he lay down on a lounge, Mr. Oldmixon putting a pillow
under his head and giving him a glass of wine. ^ ^ 1 don't
quite know what it was. My mind isn't clear yet, but 1
thought I saw Camilla looking at me. Didn't you say
something about ^ last looks ' ? I don't know — ^perhaps
I had better not talk till my mind gets clearer ; I Height
say something that wasn't true, you know — something
that would do me harm. Of course dreams are not true.
Did I say anything ? If I did 1 take it back now. I —
1 — " here his voice became inarticulate, and he fell into
a heavy stupor, from which he did not emerge for several
hours.

In the mean time Mr. Oldmixon called his valet to
look after Hogarth, while he, taking with him the manu-
script with which he had been engaged just before his
nephew's arrival, went into a little room in which he

THE TOETTJEB IS CONTINUED. 335

sometimes did his writing, and again busied himself in
making alterations in the text of his novel.

Every now and then, however, he would stop, and,
throwing himself back in his chair, indulge in serious
reflections relative to the actual situation of the matter
that so fully occupied his mind. Events were moving
to suit him, and exactly as he had anticipated. He be-
lieved that Hogarth was on the verge of confessing, and
that a little more torture would bring him to the speak-
ing point. ^

" And he shall have it I" he exclaimed, rising from
his chair and hurriedly pacing the floor ; ^' I don't care
about his speaking too soon. He hasn't suffered half
enough yet. I'll bring him to the brink of acknowledg-
ing his guilt, and then I'll let up on him and give him a
reviving inhalation, as the victims of bodily torture were
brought back to consciousness by a restoring draught. I
really thought I had lost him to-day.

" He came very near trying to kill me," he contin-
ued, after he had walked in silence. '' One step farther,
and I should have rung my electric bell and brought
Thomas to the rescue. But pshaw ! He will try noth-
ing of that kind with me till the will is signed ; and if I
don't know enough to beat him at that game I'd better
hang a millstone around my neck and throw myself into
the river. If I, Victor Constantino Oldmixon, with the
astuteness of the devil himself, can't get ahead of a
clumsy knave like Hogarth, then there's no use in hav-
ing brains.

" Poor Jack 1" he went on, after another long pause ;
" I hope he knows that I haven't deserted him, and that
nothing but a stem sense of duty would prompt me to
have that beast — ^that basilisk — near me. Well, well, by

836 MB. OLDXIXON.

George I I have almost forgotten my beanty, the most
Bensible woman I ever saw. Barbara I What a pretty
name ! I'll go and see her, and I'll let her into my
confidence, as I did before."

He put his manuscript away, and going to his dress-
ing-room, arrayed himself in the most unexceptionable
attire for the street. Then he rang for his conp6, and
after taking a look at Hogarth, who was still in a stnpor
and breathing laboriously, he ordered his coachman to
drive to Mr. Henschel's.

CHAPTER XXIII.

HOGABTH HAS AN IDEA.

Hogarth lay in a stupid condition till nearly four
o'clock ; then he began to regain consciousness. He sat
up, looked wildly about him, put his hand to his head as
though he might be endeavoring to recall the incidents
that had brought him to his present condition, and then
slowly arose to his feet. He staggered, however, and
would have fallen if Thomas, who was on the alert, had
not held him up.

*'What a horrid headache!" he said, as the man
assisted him to a chair ; " can't you do something for
me?"

'' I don't know, sir," answered the man ; '' Mr. Old-
mixon sometimes puts ice on his head when it aches.
Shall 1 get some for you, sir ?"

'' Yes ; break Bome ice and wrap it in a towel and put
it on my head."

'' I'm not clear at all," he said, after the man had left

the room ; '' it seems to me that the last thing I recollect

is that some one was trying to smother me, and that

Camilla is somehow mixed up with it. I saw her face

for one instant just before I covered it with the pillow,

and 1 saw it again just now — ^just now ! — my God, it is

there before me at this moment ! No," he added, more

calmly, ^' it was only imagination. 1 can never see it

again, and I never want to see it again — why, yes, there
15

338 MS. OLDiaxox..

it is ! It goes and comes like a luJliiciiuitiim, and that's
what it is, that's all — ^tbe last look giTenby a person that
is about to die, and given to the man hj whom death is
coming ! IVe seen it once, and, mj God ! it seems as
though I could never again shut it out from my eyes. I
was all right till I came to this cursed house to live, and
that fiend began with his devilish tricks. I suppose it is
unintentional, or rather that he does it for his amuse-
ment, or perhaps simply from indifference to what I may
feeL He cannot know anything ; ihat is impossible ;
and if he did, he wouldn't be such an infernal scoundrel
as to go to work deliberately to torture me in this way ;
no, he cannot know ; he cannot be unfriendly to me. His
speech is kind enough, and then he shows his real thoughts
when ho takes me back, invites me to his house, and
makes his will in my favor.

*' By Heaven 1 the more I think of it the more 1 am
convinced that he is insane on the subject of smothering.
1 believe he knows he is. He hinted at something of
the kind just now. 1 suppose if that is so that I shall
have to stand it for a while, till the will is signed, and
then — " Again his fingers clutched at an imaginary
something, and were pressed convulsively against his
palms ; then they opened, and again closed, continuing
these movements for perhaps a minute, while he lay back
in the chair, with his eyes closed and his lips retracted,
so as to show his teeth.

'' Yes," ho continued, after he had apparently exhaust-
ed the excitability of his hands, '' I shall have to do it.
Ho has given me some valuable lessons, and, by God f I'll
make use of tliem on him. He's too uncertain a man to
1)0 depended on. He might change in a week over some
fancied insult or something else, and bring back that milk-

\

HOGABTH HAS AK IDEA. 339

sop Jack. Well, I put a spoke in his wheel to-day, and
that's something. Ah 1 Thomas, here you are. Yes, tliat
will do ; now put it on my head, and go and get me a
bottle of Vichy. You have Vichy in the house, 1 suppose ?"

" Oh, yes, sir," answered the man, as he put the towel,
full of cracked ice, on Hogarth's head, making a kind of
skull-cap of it, and putting another towel around his neck
to absorb the water that ran down ; '' Mr. Oldmixon has
all the mineral waters ; you can have any one you wish."

'^ I'll stick to the Vichy. I feel better already." As
the man left the room Hogarth got up and looked over
the papers on the library table till he found the rough
draft of the will that Mr. Oldmixon had left there. He
read it over very carefully several times. '' Yes,'^ he
said, as he folded it up and put it into his pocket, ^' it's
all right. I believe he's honest. It would be impossible
for him to do this if he knew anything, and was trying
to entrap me ; he couldn't be such an infernal scoundrel !
I'll try and get used to his smothering mania, for that's
what it is, and the next time he mentions it I'll go him
one better. I'll tell a worse story than he can tell, and
I'll show him that I can play the game of bluff as well
as he. Thanks," as Thomas came in with the Vichy ;
" set it down, and I'll help myself when I'm ready for
it. I feel pretty well now, so you needn't stay. Has
Mr. Oldmixon gone out ?"

'* Yes, sir ; he went out an hour ago."

*' Do you know where he went ?"
No, sir ; but I suppose he went to the club."
Oh, yes, I suppose he did. That will do. I'll go
to my room, I think, and get ready for a walk. If my
uncle comes in, tell him I shall be back in time for
dinner."

i

340 MB. OLDMIXON.

The man bowed and left the room, and Hogarth, after
drinking nearly the whole of the bottle of Vichy, repaired
to his bedroom, and began dressing for the street. He
took off the brown velvet sack-coat that he generally
wore when in the house, and was proceeding to put on a
frock-coat of stylish cut, when a letter fell from one of
the pockets to the floor. He stooped and picked it up,
and immediately recognized it as the one that he had re-
ceived from his friend Jeremiah Masters, informing him
that Mr. Oldmixon had willed his property to Jack on
condition that he should marry a lady unknown to the
writer. Heading this letter again, his curiosity became
excited as to who was the woman in whom his unde took
such great interest as to provide for her marriage to a
man who was then his favorite nephew, and in case of
his neglect or refusal to marry her, making her the resid-
uary legatee of his entire estate. He had overlooked
this circumstance, and the fact, now brought back to his
recollection, gave him great uneasiness. He was by na-
ture suspicious and prone to attribute concealed motives
to persons with whom he had relations, so that it was
not astonishing that the matter in question should have
caused him additional discomfort. Had his uncle lost
his interest in this woman at the same time that he had
cast Jack off a second time ? Would there be any such
provision in the new will to be made in his favor ? Why
should there be this anxiety shown for her marriage, and
this great consideration for her welfare by giving her
nearly a million dollars ?

He stood with his hand to his head, vainly endeavor-
ing to answer these questions in a way satisfactory to
himself. He was not yet quite restored to his normal
condition. His head still ached with a dull, heavy pain,

HOaARTH HAS AK IDEA. 341

that rendered him, to a certain extent, stupid and incapa-
ble of grasping diflBcnlt questions like those that he had
asked himself. Suddenly his face lit np with an expres-
sion that indicated that he had reached a solution of the
matter. *' By God I" he exclaimed, with all the empha-
sis of which he was capable, '' I believe I've got it at
last.'* The result did not, however, give him much
pleasure, if a judgment could be formed from his counte-
nance ; but it certainly tended to quicken his movements,
so that in a few minutes he had completed his toilet,
and was on his way down-stairs to the library. '^ If niy
tmcle were to die to-night," he said, as he went down
the steps, ^' or if anything should prevent the execution
of the new will, this woman, whoever she is, would get
the estate. That is a matter for serious contemplation,
and," he added, ^' for a little detective service. I must
find out who this woman is ; but how ?" While still
lost in the difficulties of this last interrogation, he entered
the library, where he found Thomas engaged in remov-
ing the empty Vichy bottle and setting Mr. Oldmixon's
table in order. ^'Perhaps," thought Hogarth, "this
fellow may be able to give me some information.

*^ 1 suppose you never have lady visitors, Thomas," he
said, " although, from the neatness that prevails over the
whole house, I should think you had them very often."

'* Ifo, sir ; I don't think any woman ever comes into
this house except the laundress every week and the
scrubbers every month."

'' And my uncle, being such an inveterate old bachelor,
visits no ladies, of course?" he said, interrogatively.

" Well, sir, 1 don't know about that," replied Thomas,
with a grin ; *' Mr. Oldmixon's pretty well up in years
now, but he likes a pretty face when he sees it."

342 HB. OLDMIXOK.

^^ Oh, yes, of course ! Every man does till the day of
his death, if he lives to be a hundred. But he never
took any decided fancy to any particular one, did he?"

" I ain't so sure of that neither," answered Thomas,
still grinning with the consciousness of superior knowl-
edge ; '^ I guess there's one that he thinks a good deal
of, but that's only a guess ; and if he was to know
that I'd said such a thing, he'd turn me off the next
minute."

"Oh, that's all right ! He'll never know from me;
and besides," he added, laughing, *^ there's no great harm
in a gentleman, even if he is seventy-five years old, ad-
miring a pretty girl, is there, especially if the pretty
girl admires him?"

*' No, sir ; no, sir ; I guess there ain't no great wrong
in it ; but Mr. Oldmixon keeps this so mighty close that
no one knows anything about it except Dan the coach-
man, and you couldn't get him to tell where he drove to
if you was to prod him with red-hot irons, or give him a
mint of money. Nothing ever has influence with Dan
after Mr. Oldmixon tells him to hold his tongue."

" Well, Thomas, that isn't a bad trait in a servant ; but
in a little matter like this Dan might afford to be more
communicative. Now, I want to play off a little joke on
my uncle that I think will amuse him, and I'd like to
know who the lady is that the old gentleman admires so
highly."

" There ain't any use, sir, in going to Dan ; nothing
would make him open his mouth."

" Not even twenty dollars ?"

" Twenty dollars !" exclaimed Thomas, with strong
contempt in his tone. '' No, sir, nor twenty times twen-
ty, nor twenty times that. You see, Dan's lived with

HOGABTH HAS AN IDEA. 843

Mr. Oldmixon over forty years. He gets the biggest
wages of any eoachman in the city, and Mr. Oldmixon's
already given him two thousand dollars, which pays him
more than a hundred a year from a mortgage that he put it
in. But that ain't all. Last New Tear's day he gave
Dan a hundred dollars, and told him that if he was his
coachman next New Year's day he'd give him a thou-
sand more. Now, you see, all that keeps Dan's mouth
shut. Then, besides, he's nearly Mr. Oldmixon's age,
so that there's a fellow-feeling between them."

" So you think it's no use to try to find out anything
from Dan ?"

*^ 1 don't think anything about it, sir ; 1 know it ain't
no use. But," continued Thomas, who was under no
such bonds to keep silent as was Dan,, and who coveted
the twenty dollars and doubtless more that Mr. Hogarth
seemed disposed to give for information that would en-
able him to get off his little joke, *' I know a point or two
about that little affair as might lead, if you worked it well,
to your knowing all about it."

" How's that, Thomas ? I'll give you twenty dollars
now for your ^ point or two ; ' and if they lead to cer-
tainty, I'll make it a hundred more."

" "Well, it's just this. Dan let out quite accidentally
that Mr. Oldmixon was at a bird-stuffer's talking with a
young lady once for half an hour, and once for an hour
or more. But the minute I asked him what bird-stuffer,
he was mum, and I couldn't get a word more out of
him. Now, I know Mr. Oldmixon brought a stuffed ca-
nary bird home with him one day, and he's got it now
in a silver box locked up in that old Dutch cabinet over
there in the comer. Now, sir, while the silver box was
being made for that bird, he kept it under a glass shade

844 MB. OLDMIXOK.

on that table there, and I've seen him kiss it two or three
times when he didn't think any one was around."

"That's very strange," thought Hogarth; *^I won-
der if that can be the same bird that escaped from the
window opposite, and that flew in here. Why should he
have it stuffed ? And why should he kiss it ? Doubt-
less because that woman stuffed it. Now, who the devil
can she be ?

** You have no idea what bird-stuffer did the work!"

*' No, sir ; but it can't be very difficult to find out, for
I think the same one — and she's a woman, that 1 know-
did an animal for Mr. Jack."

" Oh, that's it, is it ? But how do you know that the
bird-stuffer is a woman ?"

*^How do 1 know it, sir 1" exclaimed Thomas, as
though there was in the question an imputation on his
ability to acquire knowledge, " well, sir, I know it be-
cause she was here in this very room.' '

** In this room 1 Why, not ten minutes ago, you told
me that no woman ever came here but the laundress and
the scrubbers.' '

*'So 1 did, sir," said Thomas, a little abashed, "but
that was before — before — "

'' Before I had promised you twenty dollars," inter-
rupted Hogarth, with a laugh.

''Yes, sir."

" Well, now that you know what I'm going to do for
you, I suppose you'll tell me all you know ?"

'' Yes, sir. The young woman came here with a sort
of an animal she'd stuffed for Mr. Jack — one that he
brought home with him from Canada."

'' So she stuffed something for Mr. Jack, did she ? Go
on."

HOGARTH HAS AN IDEA. 345

**Te8, sir, and she thought he lived here; she had
lost the direction he gave her, and then she looked in
the directory, and she came here, thinking this was his
house. "

" Well, and what did she say or do after she came
here!"

'' Not much ; I didn't know that it was worth while to
ask her any questions, or, of course, I could have got out
of her all I wanted to know. I'd like to see the woman
I couldn't get around when I tried," he added, com-
placently.

^' You didn't find out her name ?"

^^ No, sir, for I didn't think it was of any importance
to know ; but she's the one that Mr. Oldmixon spent so
much time with, and she stuflfed them two things, the bird
for him and the badger — it looked like a badger — for
Mr. Jack."

" How do you know that she stuflfed the bird for my
uncle?"

" Because it was on the table when she came here, and
she saw it, and I asked her if she had stuffed that bird, and
she said she had."

*' That seems pretty straight," said Hogarth, as though
speaking to himself. '' Here, Thomas," he continued,
addressing that individual — " here's your twenty dollars.
Now, I've only got to find out where she lives, and that
completes the affair so far as the identification goes. Can
you give me no clew ?"

^' Oh, yes, sir ! She told me she was in partnership with

her father. Now, here's a business directory ; look through

it for the bird-stuffers, and note them that has partners.

Then go to each one in turn till you find it. You can do

it with a cab in an hour. Or I'll do it for you, sir, if you
15*

346 MB. OLDMIXOK.

like/' he added, having in mind an amplification of his
bonus.

*' Yes, that will do exactly. Give me the boof

Taking the volume from Thomas, Hogarth turned to
the page containing the list of all the taxidermists doing
business in New York, and ran his eyes over the column.

" There are only three with more than one person in
the firm," he said ; " there's * Tophan & Byles,' ^ Jones
& Williams,' and ^ Thomas Bangs & Company.' "

*' That's it !" exclaimed Thomas ; "you see, it can't
be either of the others, for the names are different, and she
said she was in with her father. * Thomas Bangs &
Company ' — I'll bet that's the one. "

''Seventy-three Lake Street," continued Hogarth,
reading from the directory. " Go down there this even-
ing, Thomas, while we are at dinner ; and if she's the one,
leave a note on my dressing-table."

•' There's something going on here that 1 don't under-
stand," he said, as he walked down Fifth Avenue ; "if
anything happens before the new will is signed she gets
the money, unless Jack marries her, and then he gets it.
If she was to marry me now she couldn't marry Jack, and
that would cut him out altogether, and I'd get the estate
almost as completely as though he had willed it to me
direct. It's a complicated business, and I don't quite see
my way clear. I'm afraid the old man intends to do
something, and that this draft of a new will is all a sham.
One thing is certain : if he was to die to-night and 1 was
her husband, she'd have the money, and that would be the
same as if 1 had it. There's no getting over that. By
George !" as an idea suddenly occurred to him, " I'll go
and see Masters — five o'clock," taking out his watch and
holding it contemplatively in his hand. " It's rather

HOGAKTH HAS AN IDEA. 347

late to go down-town, and it's rather early to find him at
home. I'll risk it." He put his watch into his pocket,
and crossing the street at Madison Square, took a cab from
the stand there, and told the driver to go to 107 East
Henson Street.

" 1 ought to have gone to Masters long ago about the
matter," he said, as he took out his cigar-case and, light-
ing a cigar, lay back in the vehicle and smoked, more for
the sake of the company the act gave him than from any
other gratification. ^' He's a bright man in such things,
and he's a friend of mine too. Besides, he's not troubled
with scruples when his interest is at stake. Neither am
I under like circumstances. "

It took but a few minutes to reach Mr. Masters*s resi-
dence. It was a house that had once been occupied by
people of a good class, and was in a street that had once
been respectable, but which was now filled with all de-
scriptions of disreputable and semi-disreputable persons,
who carried on various kinds of business that, if not posi-
tively unlawful, required the constant vigilance of the
police to keep them from becoming so. No. 107, in
which Mr. Masters lived, was on one side bounded by a
low concert and drinking hall and on the other by a
swindling policy shop and gambling establishment, fre-
quented habitually by the worst characters that a large
city like New York is able to produce.

The house had that dilapidated appearance that is so
characteristic of New York houses when they begin to
decline in respectability. Hogarth ascended the front
steps, which were already showing signs of a departure
from the degree of rectangularity that well-ordered con-
structions of the kind exhibit. He had some little diffi-
culty in ringing the bell, and then, when he finally sue-

348 KB. OLDMIXON.

•

ceeded in prodncing a faint soand, was forced to wait
Beveral minutes and to pull the handle repeatedly before
he heard the footsteps that announced the coming of
some one to open the door.

" I'm sorry to have kept yon waiting," said the
slovenly and otherwise unprepossessing woman who let
him in ; ^^ the girl is out on an errand, and I was up-
stairs attending to my brother, who is not well to-day.
Do you wish to see him on business, sir ?"

^' 1 did wish to see him on a matter of business," said
Hogarth, " but since he is not well, I will call again.
Please give him this card, and ask him to send me a line
telling me when and where I can see him."

The woman took the card, and looking at it, exclaimed,
*^ Oh, you are Mr. Hogarth Oldmixon ! He'll see you,
I am sure. Just step inside and wait in the parlor till I
tell him you're here. Things don't look very nice,"
she continued, as she ushered Hogarth into a shabbily
furnished room, " for Jeremiah's sickness has prevented
me looking after matters. Take a seat, please, and I'll
let him know at once."

Hogarth sat down on the hair-cloth-covered chair that
she pushed toward him, and endeavored to amuse himself
till Miss Masters returned by looking around the room.
There was nothing, however, to attract his attention, not
a picture, not a book, not an ornament of any kind.
There was a white marble-top table, a hair-cloth sofa,
four chairs of the same description, an ingrain carpet,
and that was all. Fortunately for his peace of mind,
he did not have to wait long, for in two or three minutes
Miss Masters re-entered the room, and informed him that
her brother would see him at once. Hogarth followed
her up one flight of stairs and into the room in which

HOGAETH HAS AN IDEA. 349

Mr. Jeremiah Masters sat, arrayed in a gaudy dressing-
gown, and, like liis sister, presenting a decidedly un-
kempt appearance, and looking, besides, as though he had
just got out of the tumbled bed that occupied the greater
part of the room.

*' Leave us, Belinda, please," he said, addressing His
sister ; '* Mr. Oldmixon probably wishes to consult me
upon matters of private business. I didn't want to miss
the chance of seeing you," he continued, after the lady
had departed, " for 1 thought, from the fact of your
coming here, that something important might have oc-
curred. Am I right ?" Ho looked sharply at Hogarth
as he put this question, and then, without waiting for an
answer, went on :

" I woke up with a horrid headache this morning, and
didn't go down to the office ; but I don't know any man
whose affairs want looking after as much as yours do,
and 1 am perfectly willing to devote my time, sick or
well, to your service. Now, is there anything special ?"

*' Yes ; I have the rough draft of my uncle's new will
in my pocket, and I'm to take it to-morrow to Mr. Rid-
ley to have it engrossed into proper form. Would you
like to see it ?"

He handed the paper to Mr. Masters, and the latter
read it over two or three times.

" It seems to be sufficiently explicit," he said, as he
handed it back to Hogarth. ^^ I have known cases,
however, in which the lawyer drawing up the will had re-
ceived private instructions to leave out some requisite
feature, so as to make the instrument invalid. The tes-
tator in such a case makes a great show of executing a
will, for the purpose of deceiving interested parties,
while all the time there is another will, properly drawn

350 MB. OLBMIXOK.

and executed, hidden away, to be broaght out when the
proper time comes."

" Do you think my uncle would do that with me f"

^^ 1 think your uncle is so entirely unscrupulous that
he would do whatever he wanted to do."

*' But with what object ? Men don't become recon-
ciled with nephews they have discarded and in whose
favor they have made new wills for nothing. And as
to motive for so much hypocrisy, I don't see it. Do
you think he is a man to act the liar and the traitor sim-
ply from the love of evil ?"

Mr. Masters, before answering this question, stroked
his chin with each hand alternately, as though, by thus
stimulating the cutaneous surface of that part of his
body, his thoughts would follow more rapidly. It was
not a nice-looking chin. It was unshaven, and it was
unclean, and it was misshapen ; but the gentle friction
produced by its possessor's fingers appeared to excite the
necessary cerebral action ; for after about two minutes
devoted to this process, Mr. Masters spoke :

*' Do you think you know your uncle ?"

" Do I think I know him ? Well, I ought to know
him, seeing that I've lived in the same house or in in-
timate association with him almost ever since I was
bom."

^' You might easily do that, and still not know Mr.
Oldmixon. To my mind, he is the most secretive and
the most unknowable man I ever saw. "Where is the old
will ?"

'' I don't know. Perhaps it's destroyed."

** I know it isn't destroyed. At least, it was in exist*
ence at this time yesterday, for I saw it."

'' You saw it 1 Where ?"

HOGABTH HAS AN IDEA. 351

*' I was in Mr. Ridley's office ; he had sent for me in
regard to a case that he had when I was with him and that
1 understood. I saw a copy of this very draft that you
have on his table, and I saw the other will there too.
That will at this moment is worth all the rough drafts
in the world. "

^' Are you perfectly familiar with the terms of that
will?" asked Hogarth, anxiously.

'^Perfectly."

''But you don't know the name of the woman to
whom the estate goes in case Jack does not marry her ?"

" !No ; the name was left blank."

" Then I am wiser than you, for I know."

" You do ! How did you find out ?"

" By a process of reasoning from certain premises.
She's a bird-stuflEer, and her name is Bangs."

•

^' It may be," said Mr. Masters, reflectively ; '' Mr.
Oldmixon, I know, had at about the time the will was
drawn up some dealings with a taxidermist."

*' Yes ; she stuffed a canary bird for him."

" True ; 1 recollect now. I heard him speaking of it
to Mr. Ridley and extolling the workmanship. But
are you sure of the name ?"

" ^ot entirely, but I shall be by to-night. Every-
thing, however, points to Miss Bangs as the legatee."

'' You'd better go and marry her ; for, as sure as I be-
lieve in the existence of the world, I don't believe that
Mr. Oldmixon intends to make a new will."

" What makes you think so ?"

" My general knowledge of his character, which tells
me that when he makes an ostentatious show of doing any-
thing he generally means to do the very reverse. The
suddenness with which you were called back after I had

352 HB. OLDHIXON.

heard him denoance you as the greatest scoundrel the
world had ever produced, and when nothing had oc-
curred to cause him to change his opinion ; the fact that
your brother Jack and he are on the most affectionate
terms with each other, while he pretends to you that he
has quarrelled with him.'*

" You don't say that he and Jack are friendly 1" ex-
claimed Hogarth, rising from his chair, and pacing the
floor hurriedly.

*' Yes, I do ; they met at Mr. Ridley's yesterday, and
were discussing this very matter of the will.*'

*' Then the old villain means to play me false ! He
has some devilish scheme on hand that I have not
fathomed. Is there no way to be even with him ?"

" I can counsel you to nothing unlawful. But there is
no reason, so far as I can see, why you should not many
the girl. She knows nothing about being Mr. Old-
mixon's heiress, and your brpther has refused to marry
her."

'' Jack has refused to marry her ! By Heaven ! why
have you kept this from me, when you must have knowD
how anxious I was on the subject ?"

" Because, my friend, I am engaged in making my
living by practising the profession of the law. There
are matters that 1 am going to give you the right to use
for a consideration, and that consideration h the sum of
one hundred thousand dollars, to be paid to me within
thirty days after you marry the heiress."

'^ But you have told me, and I can use them for noth-
mg."

'^ Oh, no ; for unless you sign this little document to
the effect that, for value received, you promise to pay,
thirty days after sight, to Jeremiah Masters or order,

HOGARTH HAS AN IDEA. 353

one hundred thousand dollars, value received, I shall im-
mediately inform your uncle of this interview, and notify
Miss Bangs of your designs. Sign it, and we are friends,
and you shall have my best services ; refuse, and your
game is at an end. "

Hogarth was no fool. He saw that he was in the
power of this man ; so, after some further conversation,
he signed the note, and prepared to take his departure to
begin the operations upon which he trusted for success.

" There's one thing more I'd like to know," he said,
*^ and that is, why Jack refused to marry the girl ?"

*' Because he's in love with another woman. 1 heard
Mr. Ridley and Mr. Oldmixon talking it over ; and though
your uncle regretted the fact, he declared that it should
not cause him to change his will. In fact, it's the girl
he wants to have the money, and neither you nor your
brother."

" I wonder why he takes such an interest in this
woman ! Do you know ?"

"No, I don't."

** 1 believe she's his mistress."

*^ I think you are mistaken."

*^ I'll probe the matter to the bottom. But I'm ready
to marry her. I'm not squeamish."

" I'm sure you're mistaken."

" There's nothing else that could account for his
interest. He simply wants to provide for her hand-
somely, and get her a husband at the same time. Jack
has found out his little game, and has refused. He is
squeamish, but /'m not. So long as she's to have nearly
a million dollars I'll take her, even if I have to father a
lot of bastards into the bargain."

CHAPTER XXIV.

" HEB HEABT BANK WITHDf HEB.'*

Mr. Oldmtxon was in great good-humor, and as he
drove down the street on his way to the house where he
had last seen Barbara Henschel, he fairly chuckled with
delight at the success that he had thus far obtained
from his procedures against Hogarth. It may as well
be said here that Mr. Jeremiah Masters was entirely
right in his suspicions relative to Mr. Oldmixon's con-
templated action. That gentleman had not the most
distant idea of making another will. The one that Mr.
Ridley had in his fire-proof and burglar-proof safe was
exactly in accordance with his wishes, as much so as when
he had signed it. To be sure, Jack's refusal to marry
the woman he had selected for him had discomposed him
somewhat ; but he had reflected that, after all, his chief
object was to give the estate to Barbara, and that if
Jack did not choose to share it with her, or rather to
get it for himself, the loss would be his.

Then he reflected that the end as regarded his scoun-
drelly nephew Hogarth was approaching very rapidly.
The constant iteration and reiteration of the same sub-
ject was beginning to affect the fellow. At first he had
disregarded it ; then he had attempted to brave it out
with a bullying air ; but at last he had succumbed, and
henceforth the contest would be all on one side.

As he thought of the matter he endeavored to form

'^ HER HEAET- SANK! WITHIN HER." 355

some idea of the manner in which the climax would
appear, and he came to the conclusion that it would be
in the form of insanity. Already he saw indications of
the approach of that disorder, and these occurring in a
person so strongly predisposed by hereditary tendency
as was Hogarth appeared to him to point, with irresistible
force, to the speedy advent of a condition the existence
of which in his nephew would be an ample atonement
for the crime he had committed.

^* It's about the worst thing that could happen," he
said to himself, as his coup6 rolled down Fifth Avenue,
" but not a bit worse than he deserves to receive at my
hands, and I don't mean to let up a bit. He shall have
the full measure to which his crime entitles him, and if
he dies in a lunatic asylum well and good.

*^ What a mean, contemptible dog he is ! See how he
tried to cut off poor Jack without even a dollar I * And
he's getting dangerous too. He would have killed me
if it hadn't been for the hold of the will that I have
over him. He's not going to kill the goose that lays the
golden egg. Not a bit of it !

'' Jack's a stupid fellow, if he is a great painter," he
continued, the idea being probably excited by the fact
that, looking out of the window of the coupe, he saw the
" Vandyke," where Jack had his lodgings and studio near
by in a cross street. '^ Here's the prettiest and the best
girl in New York offered him for a wife, and he refuses
her as though she were an Irish bog-trotter or a German
sausage-maker. She's too good for him. I wonder who
the devil he's after 1 If he isn't entirely caught, I
wouldn't despair yet of bringing him to Barbara Hen-
Bchel's feet. I'll have to let them see each other. If
he once gets a good look at her and hears her talk and

356 ME. OLDMIXOB".

sees lier smile she'll fetch him, as sore as my name's Old*
mixon. By George I 1 must bring it about some way
or other."

The coupe here turned out of the avenue, and after
going a few blocks stopped in front of the late residence
of Mr. Henschel and his daughter. Externally it looked
just as it did when Mr. Oldmixon last saw it, for he did
not raise his eyes sufficiently to observe that the sign was
changed. He entered the front door and encountered
Peter, who was engaged at the desk behind the counter
making up his accounts for the week, and looking not
very cheerful over the array of figures.

" I would like a few minutes' conversation with Misa
Henschel, please," said Mr. Oldmixon, putting on liiB
most seductive expression and assuming his most dulcet
tones.

" Well," rejoined Peter somewhat sulkily — ^for the
information given by the figures was still working on
him — '' you'll have to want at present, I guess."

'' What do you mean ?" inquired Mr. Oldmixon, less
suavely.

'* I mean that, as Miss Henschel isn't here, it stands in
reason that you can't talk with her now."

'' Not here !"

'^ No ; she's left here, she and her father, and devilish
sorry I am too. "

" Well, my friend, I'm sorry also ; and as ' misery loves
company,' suppose we sympathize with each other, and
that you put me on equal terms with yourself by telling
me all you know about her disappearance. Why she
went, where she went, when she went."

This speech put Peter into a better humor, and ho
proceeded, with much verbiage and circumlocution, to

^^HEB HEABT BJlNK WITHIN HEE.'' 357

put Mr. Oldraixon in possessioD of all the facts connected
with the transfer of the business and the change of resi-
dence of the Henschels that were within his knowledge,
ending with the statement that since they had retired
from the establishment the orders for work had fallen off
to such an extent as to make him seriously apprehensive
for the future.

Mr. Oldmixon was surprised to hear of the departure
of his friends, but the place to which they had gone was
not so far distant as to render it difficult to reach them.

^* Miss HenschePs in town every day," resumed Peter ;
*^ she's taking lessons in sculpture from Mr. Maurice.
It's easy enough to find her, however. You can get ont
either at New Rochelle or at Mamaroneck. The first's
a little nearer to their house, but the other's more con-
venient for some reason or other. I'd like to go up my-
self some day, to see if I can't get them interested in the
business again."

" I don't think you'll succeed. She's got too much
talent for taxidermy, and ere long will astonish the world
with her work as a sculptor. "

" Yes, that's so, I beh'eve," said Peter, with emphasis.
'^ But," he added, bending over toward Mr. Oldmixon
and speaking with all the earnestness of which he was
capable, *' do you know what's going on ?"

^' I haven't the sh'ghtest idea."

" Well, there's a firm here in the same business, by the
name of * Thomas Bangs & Company, ' composed of father
and daughter ; and the girl has been going round claiming
that she did some of the best work that Miss Henschel
did. Of course she lies about it ; but exposing liars is
hard work unless you turn your whole attention to it."

" What's that ? You don't mean to say that this

358 MB. OLDMIXON.

Bangs girl asserts that she monnted certain specimens
that were in reality monnted by Miss Henschel ?"

" Yes, I do. That's exactly what I mean to say. Tou
recollect that canary bird that Miss Henschel monnted
for you ?"

"Certainly I do. 1 am not likely to forget it, I
think."

" Well^ she has circulated a story that she monnted it,
and she's got a good deal of work through the falsehood
too."

" You don't tell me so ! Where does she live ? 1*11
go straight there and denounce her. The horrid huzzy 1
How dare she attempt to filch the reputation of the most
accomplished taxidermist that ever lived 1"

" She lives not far from here, in Lake Street ; but it
isn't worth your while to go after her, for she's a perfect
termagant, and would just as soon attack yon with a
broomstick or throw a pail of dirty water on yon as not
No, sir ; let her alone. Of course she can't play that
game long without being found out."

Mr. Oldmixon looked at his faultless coat, trousers, and
waistcoat, and arrived at the conclusion that it would
not be expedient to expose them to the danger of being
ruined by the viragoish Miss Bangs. He declared, how-
ever, that he would have a lot of notices printed inform-
ing the public that his bird was mounted by Miss Hen-
schel, and would hire a boy to stand on the pavement in
front of the Bangs establishment and distribute them to
the passers-by. This idea struck him as a particularly
brilliant one ; and after chuckling over it with great
delight, quoting several proverbs and other wise sayings
that reflected upon the wickedness of stealing a person's
reputation, he made a note of the railway stations nearest

"her heart sank within her." 359

to the Henschels' residence, and then took his de-
parture.

On the pavement, before getting into his carriage, he
looked at his watch. It was twenty minutes of five
o'clock. Doubtless Barbara had left Mr. Maurice's
studio and had gone home. How would it do for him
to go to New Rochelle that evening ? He stood for a
moment, apparently undecided what to do. Then, telling
his coachman to drive rapidly to the Grand Central Kail-
way station, he entered the carriage, and pulling down
the blinds, gave himself up to the thoughts that the oc-
casion suggested.

In the first place, he was determined that if possible he
would see Barbara that night and tell her of the plans
for her enrichment and marriage that he had formed.
He would also inform her of his suspicions against his
nephew Hogarth, and of the scheme for rendering him
insane that was then being carried out in apparently the
most successful manner. And, above all, he desired to
ask her advice in regard to another matter that he had
in contemplation. He had the utmost confidence in Bar-
bara's good sense and independence of character. She
bad aided him materially in his other difficulties, and he
resolved, as he lay back in his carriage, his mind undis-
turbed by the crowds on the streets or by the scenes
constantly to be witnessed in the thoroughfares of a large
city, that he would implicitly follow her advice in all the
affairs that he intended to submit to her judgment.

Arriving at the Grand Central station he ascertained
that a train would leave at five o'clock, but that he could
not get back that night unless he was content to stay no
longer than half an hour at Mr. Henschel's country
residence. He knew that it was about three miles from

■{

860 HIL OLDMLXON.

either Kew Hochelle or Mamaroneck, and he was not
sure that he would find a carriage at either place to take
him to his destination. Still he resolved to risk it ; so,
sending word by the coachman that he would not be at
home to dinner, and finding that he had but three min-
utes to spare, he bought a ticket for New Hochelle and
entered the train.

It was half -past five when he arrived at New Bochelle,
and quite dark. He saw, however, to his great satisfaction,
that there were a number of carriages at the station ; but
upon inquiry he found that the hackman he was about to
engage knew nothing of the Henschels. As the reader
is aware, Mr. Henschel and his daughter always made use
of the Mamaroneck station in going to or from Lasata,
and this was three miles farther on. However, he at
last found a man who professed to know where Mr.
Henschel lived, and who did, after a good deal of bun-
gling, finally succeed in finding the place. Looking at
his watch, Mr. Oldmixon found that he would have but
about half an hour to stay, and then, if he wished to
catch the last train for the night, he would have to take
his departure. He was quite sure that this would be
altogether insufficient for him to say all that he had to
say to Barbara, but he hoped to be able to continue the
conversation the following day at Mr. Maurice's studio.

Telling the man to wait for him, Mr. Oldmixon entered
the grounds surrounding the house. There were lights
in several of the rooms, but the curtains were drawn,
and he could not see in, though he tried his utmost to
get a glimpse of the interior of the front room on the
left of the entrance, in which there was a bright light,
but over the windows of which curtains of some thick
material hung. Finally he rang the bell.

"her HEAET SAlfK WITHIN HEE." 361

In a short time it was answered by a neatly dressed
housemaid.

Now, Mr. Oldmixon did not wish to see Mr. Henschel,
but he judged, very properly of course, that It would be
more in accordance with the rules of propriety for him
to ask for that gentleman than to request to see his
daughter. He did not suppose that Mr. Henschel would
make any objection to Barbara seeing him in private on
receiving an intimation that such an interview was
desired. His age, he thought, was sufficient warrant for
requesting such a privilege. Still, when he was informed
that Mr. Henschel had gone to New Haven, and would
not be back before half- past seven o'clock, he was not at
all distressed.

*^ Is Miss Henschel at home ?" he next inquired.

** Yes, sir ; walk into the parlor. Who shall I say
called?"

" Here is my card," he said, opening his pocketbook
and looking in its compartments for a piece of paste-
board with his name on it. " No, 1 have no card," he
continued, as he did not find what he sought. " Tell her,
please, that Mr. Oldmixon would like to see her."

At the name the woman started ; but as Mr. Oldmixon
had turned to go into the parlor he did not observe her
surprise. The only " Mr. Oldmixon" she knew was
Jack — a very different looking personage.

Barbara, who had not long since arrived home, was in
her own room dressing for dinner when the maid entered
with the exclamation, '' O Miss Barba'ra ! there's a
gentleman down-stairs who says he's Mr. Oldmixon."
' " Mr. Oldmixon !"

*' Yes ; but he's not our Mr. Oldmixon. He's old

enough to be his grandfather, I think."
16

862 MB. OLDMIXON.

^^ Oh," said Barbara, with a smile, though at the Bame
time her heart sank within her, " 1 know who it is ; say
I'll be down in a few minutes."

Yes, her heart sank within her, for the idea at once oc-
curred to her that Mr. Oldmixon had called to remonstrate*
with her for becoming engaged to his nephew ; perhaps
even to denounce her for having inveigled the young man
into her matrimonial net, to the great detriment of his
worldly prospects. How he had discovered the matter she
could not imagine, for Jack, who had escorted her to the
Grand Central station, had told her — almost the last thing
he had said — ^that he had not yet informed his unde of
what had taken place between himself and Barbara, but
that he intended to do so on the following day. In
some way or other, however, the secret must have reached
him, and he had come here, possibly to entreat her not to
interfere with the plans that he had formed for securing
Jack's happiness, and failing by persuasion to move her,
to fulminate his wrath not only against her, but against
his nephew also.

Believing all this, Barbara saw that the situation was
going to be a trying one ; and knowing as she did Mr.
Oldmixon's impetuosity and unreasonableness, she rec-
ognized the fact that she would require all her strength
of mind and powers of resistance to withstand his assaults.
She had plenty of courage, and she was fully resolved
that nothing he could say should cause her to yield one
iota unless it was supported by a message from Jack. If
he desired to be free he should be, so far as she could
give him freedom. That alternative was, however, one
that did not cause her a moment's uneasiness. Not
much over an hour ago he had given his views on the
subject of constancy in a manner so emphatic that their

\

*'her heart sank within her." 363

expression carried conviction to her mind so strongly
that nothing that the nncle conld say would shake her
confidence in her lover.

She looked very lovely as she went down the broad
old oak staircase to the room below. She wore her hair
as usual, very simply arranged, and her dark brown cash-
mere frock, trimmed with knots of dark blue ribbon,
became her wondrously well — fitting her as it did to
perfection, and setting oflE her tall, lithe, and well-devel-
oped figure as scarcely any other color or material could
have set it oflE.

She nerved herself for a long and a severe contest as
she turned the knob of the door, and then she stood
before Mr. Oldmixon.

The old gentleman had evidently been on the watch
for her, for he was standing in the middle of the room,
facing the door. As she entered he advanced as rapidly
as his not very active legs permitted, and holding out
his hand, said :

" My dear Miss Henschel, how delighted I am to see
you ! First of all, however, tell me that you pardon
my intrusion on your leisure and privacy. Till I obtain
your forgiveness I shall not feel that 1 have any right to
be here. But you are so kind and gracious that I do not
despair. You are one of those of whom Madame de
Stael spoke,

* Whoe'er feels deeply, feels for all who love.' "

Barbara perceived before Mr. Oldmixon had spoken
half a dozen words that she had altogether mistaken the
object of his visit, and that whatever that object might
be it had no reference to the matter that was nearest her
heart. Indeed, she discerned, with the penetration that

364 MB. OLBKIXOK.

bright women generally possess, that he had come for
some purpose of his own, and that she was again to be
called upon to act as adWser.

"I am very glad to see yon again, Mr. Oldmixon,"
she said ; '* I have often wondered what had become of
yon, and I should have been still more anxious if — ^if — "

She was going on to say '^ if Jack had not kept me
advised about you," when she reflected that the time
had not yet come for any reference to Jack, so she ended
her remarks by asking him to sit down.

'' I have been quite ill, Miss Henschel," continued Mr.
Oldmixon, after he had made himself comfortable in the
large arm-chair that Barbara selected for him, and she had
taken one immediately in front of him, ^^ and I have had
a good deal to trouble me. My poor Camilla died only
five days after her marriage. Died, did I say ?" turning
toward Barbara and speaking in a whisper, though a loud
one — " she was murdered !''

*' Oh, Mr. Oldmixon, are you sure of that?" said
Barbara, who, as the reader knows, had been told by Jack
of all Mr. Oldmixon' 8 suspicions and of their verifica-
tion. It was about the only thing she could say without
betraying her knowledge.

" Absolutely certain," replied Mr. Oldmixon, with all
theimpressiveness he could muster. *' It was

* Murder most foal, as in the best it is,
But this most foul, strange, and nnnatnral.'

Fortunately, I know who is the criminal, and it is of
him and his punishment that I come to speak to you —
among other things — to-night.

' Murder, though it have no tongue, will speak
With most miraculous organ ! ' **

"her heabt sank within hee." 365

^* Oh, not to me, Mr. Oldmixon !" exclaimed Barbara,
with something of horror in her voice ; '' surely you can
advise with others on such a subject to more advantage
than with me. I am a woman, and should not have such
matters brought before me. I cannot — "

" For Heaven's sake, Miss Henschel, hear me !" said
Mr. Oldmixon, excitedly. " You are the only one,
man or woman, to whom 1 can go with confidence that
1 shall get what I ask for — sincerity. I am very un-
happy. I wish — I wish — that I had never been bom."

Here Mr. Oldmixon '^ went to pieces," as the saying
is, and wept and sobbed with a violence that alarmed
Barbara. What was she to do ? She knew the whole
story as well as he knew it, and to have him go through
all the harrowing details was more, she thought, than she
could bear. But here she was in the presence of this
sobbing, sorrowing old man, who had come for the pur-
pose of pouring all his woes into her ear, and he was the
uncle of the man she loved, and who loved her ! Bar-
bara was a woman of decision when circumstances
required promptness of mental action. She never lost
her presence of mind in the face of danger nor the
ability to reason with clearness in situations characterized
by great emotional disturbance. It was at such times,
too, that the frankness and truth of her disposition came
out with most distinctness. She was not one to evade
an issue or to cover it up with a mass of verbiage mean-
ing nothing ; but she met it without reserve, candidly,
and with such artlessness that all interested perceived
that she was abandoning herself to the dictates of her
own unsophisticated nature.

Her mind was a comprehensive one, and took in at
one view all the points of the matter before her. This

366 HR. OLDKIXOK.

old man, now convnlsed with excess of emotion, was
Jack^s uncle. He was seventy-five years of age. He
was entitled to be treated kindly and without hypocrisy
or deceit, even of that passive kind that is manifested by
silence. Surely she could be ingenuous and outspoken
with him, obeying the dictates of her heart whithersoever
they might lead her !

CHAPTEE XXV.

"stop, if you love me !

))

" I KNOW all about it," she said, gently, and with that
sweet inflection in her voice which, more than mere
words, expresses sympathy and sincerity. " What do
yon wish me to do ?"

'* Yon know all about it !" exclaimed Mr. Oldmixon,
dropping his hands from before his face and looking at
her with the utmost astonishment depicted on his coun-
tenance.

" Yes," softly and with downcast eyes.

" What do you know ? Who told you anything ?"

" 1 know of your vision or dream, or whatever else
it was that you had at Saratoga ; 1 know how com-
pletely it has been verified, and — and — " still more softly
and sweetly, " Jack — I mean Mr. John Oldmixon told

me."

" Jack I my nephew. Jack Oldmixon 1 You don't
mean to say that you know him V '

"Yes, 1 know him."

" You know him !" exclaimed Mr. Oldmixon, rising
to his feet and approaching her. " Are you going to
tell me that, O Barbara I" laying his hand on her head.
" Is it possible that you — ^that you are the woman that
Jack loves, and that I've been such a damned old fool as
not to see it 1"

She raised her eyes to his ere he had finished speaking.

#».

\

868 MB. OLDHIXON.

and the smile that had before made Mr. Oldmixon her
slave was again on her face.

" Yes," she said, " I— I think I'm the one."

*^ Excuse me for swearing before a lady. I don't
think I ever did snch a thing before, and yon are the
one that 1 respect and — and love more than any other
that I ever saw ; bnt I was bo overwhelmed with joy at
hearing of the consummation of my dearest hopes, that
the oath slipped out before I knew it. My dear, dear
child, I am, next to Jack, the happiest man in the
world. How did it happen? Tell me all about it."
He started off ^to pace the floor at his fastest gait, and
had crossed it several times before Barbara began to
answer him.

" I don't think Jack could help it," she said — and
now the reaction set in, after the way with nice women,
and tears filled her eyes — "and I know I couldn't;
for 1 tried my best not — not to love him."

" You're a dear, sweet girl 1 I never did such an act
of self-denial in my life as when I selected you for Jack.
It went hard with me, but I did it, and, my dear, before
God, 1 believe he's a good man, and that he will make
you happy. If I had been forty years or even twenty
younger, I would have seen him in the lowest section
of purgatory, or even of a still more uncomfortable
place, before I would have given you up. "

" It was very funny," said Barbara, who had during
this speech recovered the sunniness of her disposition,
" that you and Jack should have so misunderstood each
other, when one word from either would have made every-
thing clear. To think," she added, with a happy smile
that lit up her face with a radiance that would have
captivated a much less impressionable man than was

"stop, if yoit love me!" 369

Mr. Oldmixon — *^to think that you should both have
meant me, and that each one should have thought the
other meant some one else 1"

" Yes, it was very remarkable ; and yet, when I come
to think of it, not so very odd, after all. Men are such
stupendous asses 1 They so rarely confide in each other ;
and then young men are still more aainine. The
chances are a thousand to one that if I had told Jack
that I had discovered an angel that 1 wanted him to
marry, and that her name was Barbara Henschel, he
would have turned up his nose and have said, * No,
thank you, I prefer Miss Bangs.' "

Barbara laughed merrily at this. '' Wliere did you
ever hear of Miss Bangs?" she said. "She was my
rival in taxidermy."

" Yes, 1 know ; that is why I happened to hear of
her ; she is claiming to have done some of your best
work, and is, as the present proprietor of your late
business told me, injuring his establishment by her
Hes."

"Oh, well," answered Barbara, "such conduct can
be only temporarily successful ; but what a despicable
creature 1'^

" Yes, yes," said Mr. Oldmixon, absently, as though
his thoughts were on something else. "It is very
strange, very strange," he continued, as if speaking to
himself ; then he drew a long breath and looked around
the room with a puzzled and somewhat wild expression
on his countenance.

For a moment Barbara was alarmed. The light from
the lamp on the table fell upon his face, and she saw the
change that had come over it. Then when Mr. Old-
mixon the next instant took the little vial of nitrite of
16*

V

370 MB. OLDMIXON.

am jl from his waistcoat pocket and held it to his nostrils,
she felt reassured, for she had seen him before in similar
attacks, and the inhalation of the medicine had always
appeared to give him relief.

" You are not ill, I hope, Mr. Oldmixon," she said, as
she rose and stood bj his side. ^' Can I do anything
for you ? Will you have a glass of wine V^

" No, no ; it is nothing, I assure you, but I have just
had another most remarkable experience. There's been
no one else in this room since we came in ?"

" No, no one."

" Not Miss Bangs ?"

''No, certainly not Miss Bangs."

" Well, while you were speaking just now of Miss
Bangs's conduct, 1 thought I saw her talking to my man
Thomas. They did not appear to me to be in this room,
although I asked the question in regard to her, for I
thought that if she had been here the fact would con-
stitute a basis for what I imagined I saw. She and the
man seemed to me to be talking together in a shop,
not unlike the one you had. There was a counter at one
side of it and cases around the walls containing mounted
specimens of animals."

" That is a description of their shop."

'' Yes, so I suppose. The girl was stoutly built, had
black eyes and hair, and was greatly over-dressed.
Around her neck she wore a heavy gold or yellow metal
chain, and she had large earrings of similar metal in her
ears."

''As well as I recollect, that describes Miss Bangs.
But I have only seen her once, and that was over a year
ago. You probably have had a short dream."

"No, it was not a dream ; it was just like my ex-

"stop, if you love me!'' 371

perience at Saratoga, thongli shorter and less vivid. I
saw the two distinctly, but, as on the other occasion, I
could not hear a word. Do yon believe in the possibility
of my sitting here and seeing what is going on in Lake
Street, in New York?"

" No ; I do not believe in what are called supernatural
occurrences ; and for you in this house to see what is
going on in New York would be supernatural."

" Yes, judging from the standpoint of the little that
we know of nature's laws. But there may be natural
events which occur so seldom and only to certain per-
sons that we regard them as supernatural simply out of
our ignorance. If I did not really see Miss Bangs and
my man Thomas talking together, how could I have
described the place and the lady so accurately? For
to my knowledge I have never seen her or her
shop."

*^ 1 do not know, but it is possible that you have been
in the shop, and that you have seen Miss Bangs, and
that talking of her to-day with Peter and then again
with me, and perhaps having some ideas of her running
through your head, you had the hallucination of seeing
her. This house was supposed by the whole neighbor-
hood to be haunted, and the most wonderful and
apparently direct stories were told of the ghostly inhab-
itants ; but we have never seen or heard anything of
them. Dr. Maddox helped us to get rid of them by
showing us how to improve the drainage."

*^ Then you don't believe in what the Scotch call
' second-sight ' ?"

" I am not sure that I know what it is," answered
Barbara, laughing ; ^^ but if it means sitting in this room
and seeing a man and a woman talking together in Lake

873 KR. OLDicnroN.

Street, in New York, nearly twenty miles from here, I
certainly do not believe in it. "

*' Well, well, I was hoping that yon believed in it, for
it appears to my mind the only explanation of my vision
at Saratoga, all the particnlars of which were confirmed
by my visit to Annapolis. Except one," he added,
after a moment's panse, ^^ and that will be verified, I
think, within twenty-fonr honrs."

" Dr. Maddox wonld probably be able to explain it
to yon. He has given great attention to snch subjects.
It takes very little in some people to canse hallucina-
tions."

^^ Yes, but this was not a hallncination, for it was
verified. Hallucinations are false. This was real."

" I do not know enough of the subject to be able to
talk about it, but I can conceive of a train of thought
originating in your mind and giving a corresponding
character to the hallucination. "Were you never in An-
napolis ?"

" 1 thought until a day or two past that I never had
been there, but I have discovered that I was in the place
about thirty years ago. I found a note addressed to me
there by a lady whom I knew ; and then the fact of my
having stopped at the very hotel at which my Camilla
was murdei*ed came to my mind. I'm quite sure, too,
that I occupied the very room that she did.' '

'^ And you knew when you were sitting on the lawn
at Saratoga that your nephew and his wife had gone to
Annapolis ?"

" Yes, I knew that they were probably there at that
moment, but all my knowledge cannot account for my
seeing him kill her.' '

" No ; but that has not yet been verified. You do not

"stop, IP YOtr LOVE MEl" 373

know that he did. 1 wish," she added, " that you could
get the idea out of your mind. Think what an awful
thing it will be for you to discover I Is it not better
to remain in ignorance or. doubt, rather than to confirm
your suspicions against a man who is your nephew and
— ^and Jack's brother ?"

Now, Mr. Oldmixon had come to see Barbara with
the intention of discussing this very point with her, and
more than half inclined to yield to the suggestions or
entreaties that he felt sure she would address to him.
But, like Pharaoh, his heart had been hardened, and the
process of induration had been brought about by the real
or imaginary sight of Thomas and Miss Bangs convers-
ing together, in the reality of which he fully believed.
He was just as sure that, on his return home, he would
extract the truth from his man as he was of his existence.
Furthermore, although he had had no supernatural
evidence of the circumstance, he was confident that
Hogarth and his man were in collusion, and that the
former had, under the idea that Miss Bangs was the
woman to whom his uncle had devised his estate, con-
ceived a purpose of marrying her. This latter notion
had entered his mind while he was in the shop convers-
ing with Peter. At first he had rejected it, but it had
forced itself, or been forced so strongly upon him, that
he had at last accepted it as true, and all the way out
to New Rochelle he had been thinking it over as an
event that would not be at all displeasing to him. He
chuckled to himself at the thought that both his nephew
and Miss Bangs would be punished by such an act, and
he determined that, so far from doing anything to pre-
vent it, he would facilitate its consummation by every
means in his power. There was only one thing that was

374 MB. OLDMIXOK.

likely to stand in the way, and that was the fact that in
all probability matters with Hogarth would be brought
to a crisis long before a marriage between him and Miss
Bangs could take place.

No, he would not relax in the severity of his method
with his murderous nephew ; not even Barbara's efforts
to induce him to be merciful should be successful. He
would go on till the wretch confessed, and then the fur-
ther consequences might be what they might be ; he
would not regret them.

It did not take a tenth part of the time to determine
what answer to give Barbara as it has taken me to write
the account of the mental process by which his conclu-
sion was reached. He rose from the chair as he spoke,
and looked at his watch.

'' Good Heavens !" he exclaimed, " I have been here
nearly half an hour, and have barely time to catch the
train. Barbara, my dear — I may surely call you Bar-
bara, now that you are going to marry my dear boy — 1
shall see Jack to-morrow, and tell him how nicely we
have been brought to an understanding. As to the
other matter, if Hogarth is innocent his innocence will
appear ; if he is guilty, he will deserve all he can receive
in this world or in the next. Good-by ; God bless you,
my dear." He held her hand in his, and drawing her
toward him, kissed her forehead. Then he turned away,
and was going to leave the room when a thought
occurred to him that caused him to retrace his steps.
He came closer to her and spoke almost in a whisper,
though with great energy and distinctness.

'* That's a bad woman," he said, '' that Bangs girl.
Hogarth has got an inkling of the contents of my will,
but he has made a mistake in the woman. He thinks 1

<<

STOP, IP YOTT LOVE ME !" 375

have made her the heiress of my estate, and he intends
to marry her if he can."

" But how do yon know all this ?"

'^ I don't know. It all seems to come to me as a kind
of inspiration that I cannot explain, and, after all, it may
be only a guess. I shall find out the truth as soon as I
get home ; for Thomas is a great coward, and I shall
miake him tell me everything he knows."

" Oh, yes !" exclaimed Barbara. " Find it out, and
then save her from such a marriage if there is any dan-
ger of it."

Mr. Oldmixon looked at her very sharply for a moment
before he spoke.

" That's a very creditable notion of yours, my dear,"
he said at last. '' All women should be mercifal, espe-
cially to their own sex. But this girl is a mean, con-
temptible, dishonest, unscrupulous, and degraded person,
who is altogether unworthy of your consideration. She
has been stealing your reputation and lying like a Turk
to advance herself at your expense. She's entitled to
no mercy, and, by Heaven ! she shall not have any. She
shall marry Hogarth. I'm going to do all in my power
to help the match along. No, no !" as Barbara attempted
to speak, " she shall have her reward. Good-by !
Another minute and I'll miss that train. I'll be up
again in a few days ;" and he was gone without giving
her the opportunity of saying a word.

Barbara stood for a moment undecided what to do.
Then she ran down to the door and called after Mr.
Oldmixon, but the carriage was driving rapidly away
from the house, and he probably did not hear her voice.
Doubtless he would not have returned even if he had
heard her. More than ever before did she recognize the

376 MR. OLDKIXOK.

fact that liis mind, if not positively deranged, was
certainly a very different one from any other with which
she was acquainted. His likes and his hates were equally
powerful ; he was as unscrupulous in his way as he
thought Miss Bangs to be, or even his nephew Hogarth.
In the accomplishment of his ideas of revenge or punish-
ment he stopped at nothing. He was, she thought, a bad
man. She did not want his money, and she resolved
that if, by any chance, it came to her direct — and she
could not get it unless Jack were unfaithful to her, and
that was an impossibility — she would give it away to
some charitable institution where it would serve in
some measure as an atonement for the sins of its former
possessor. As it was, she resolved that she would beg
Jack to refuse to be his uncle's heir tmless he at once
renounced all his schemes against Hogarth and Miss
Bangs. And furthermore she determined that she
would see that young woman in the morning and put
her on her guard against Hogarth. She had never made
Miss Bangs's acquaintance, and from what she had heard
of her, did not wish to do so. But she reasooed, if Miss
Bangs was the quintessence of vulgarity, and if she had
been mean enough to claim as her own, work that she
had not done, it was no reason that she should be in-
veigled into a marriage with a man whom everybody
united in regarding as thoroughly wicked and disrepu-
table. Miss Bangs's offence had been committed against
her, and it was for her to resent it, and not Mr. Old-
mixon, who, she perceived, was more anxious to spring
a trap on his nephew than to further the end^ of justice.
She thought she saw, too, that Mr. Oldmixon in all
things was morbidly anxious that his plans should
succeed, and that this was the chief, if not the only

^

*^STOP, IF YOU LOVE ME !" 877

motive that prompted him to favor her marriage with
Jack. He had seen her, had taken a fancy to her, and
had then, without consulting her, set about to arrange
for her marriage with a man she had never seen. The
more she thought of this matter, the more indignant she
felt at the liberty he had taken. True, events had
moved in accordance with his wishes, but, she thanked
God, entirely independently of any agency of his.
When she had discovered that she was the woman that
he wished Jack to marry she felt glad, especially for her
lover's sake, that a possibly disturbing factor had been
taken out of their path. She had perceived rather the
ludicrous side of the situation to the exclusion of other
and more important points. Now, however, reflection
was coming to her aid ; and as she walked up and down
the long parlor, and bent her mind to the consideration
of the issues before her, she felt annoyed with herself
that she had not seen more deeply into the subject at
first, and given Mr. Oldmixon some knowledge of the dis-
pleasure she felt at the liberty he had taken in attempt-
ing to dispose of her in marriage without her consent.

But Barbara was not one of those persons that see
only one side of a question. She believed that Mr.
Oldmixon really liked her. Whatever might be his
reasons, the fact was undoubted. She felt kindly toward
him for this. It was her nature to try to like those that
liked her. Besides, he was Jack's uncle, and as such
entitled to her prepossessions and to all the respect that
she could conscientiously give.

And one point had more influence with her than any
other. The more she saw of Mr. Oldmixon, the more
she was convinced that he was not entirely responsible
for his actions. She believed that he could control

378 MR. OLDMIXON.

them within certain limits, but that after a time the
impulse to persevere became overpowering ; his ideas
were then to him imperative conceptions that he could
not resist, and which carried him along in spite of the
efforts he might make to break from them. From this
point of view he was more to be pitied than blamed, but
she did not lose sight of the fact that there was a time
when he might have controlled them, and when he wil-
fully allowed his evil impulses to govern him.

As to his pretended visions or second-sights, or what-
ever else he choose to call them, she did not believe in
them at all. She perceived that there was a certain
basis of reality about them that was clearly the result of
vivid recollections that had faded from his mind. She
saw, too, that he was full of suspicions against those
persons he disliked, and especially against his nephew
Hogarth, whom he evidently thought was capable of any
atrocity that could be conceived by the mind of man.
Endowed with high imaginative powers, he had engrafted
on his recollection of localities, such as that of the hotel
at Annapolis and Miss Bangs's shop, some one of the
many fancies that were continually forming in his brain,
and had adopted it as truth. '^ Perhaps," she thought,
^' it may be that his intuitions — as 1 have heard tiiey
sometimes are in insane persons — are wonderfully acute.
1 do not know that they could be so penetrating and
exact as to indicate to him not only the fact that his,
nephew Hogarth murdered his wife, but also the way
in which he did tlie deed and all the steps of the
procedure ; but it may be possible. I cannot tell. If
it should turn out that he is right, it will be very wonder-
ful ; but till I know that his nephew is a murderer I
shall try to keep my judgment in reserve. Thus far

"stop, if YOXr LOVE ME !" 379

nothing has been established by either of his visions that
might not have been based upon actual knowledge. Yes,
there is one thing : it was a clear day at Saratoga, and
he saw it raining at Annapolis at the time of Mrs.
Oldmixon's death, and it was raining. But this," she
added, after thinking for a moment, " may have been a
coincidence. It would be very horrible if he should
drive Hogarth to confess ; and oh !" she went on, clasp-
ing her hands together in her excitement, " how infinite-
ly more horrible it would be if he should, by his per-
sistence, make an innocent man insane, and drive him to
the confession of a crime he never committed !"

Once this idea had foun J a lodgment in her mind she
experienced an impossibility of getting rid of it. She
was sure that she had arrived at the correct view of the
result of the mental tortures that Mr. Oldmixon was
inflicting upon his nephew, but she did not see her way
clear to helping the sufferer. She had every reason for
believing that he was a bad man. Enough was known
of him from evidence that was indisputable to satisfy her
on this point ; but notwithstanding this fact she felt that
her sympathies were strongly exercised in his favor, and
that it was her bounden duty to do what she could to
save him from the fate that was impending over him.
Of course she thought of interesting Jack in some
scheme that they might both agree upon and that
would be calculated to circumvent his uncle's machina-
tions. And, above all, she must warn Miss Bangs of the
plot against her.

Mr. Henschel came home ' in time for a late dinner,
and then Barbara, who had no secrets from her father,
told him of Mr. Oldmixon's visit, of the nature of her
conversation with him, and of the fears that she enter-

380 MB. OLDMIXOK.

tained. Mr. Henschel was, in his way, as straightfor-
ward as his daughter was in hers, and his advice was
that she should write a letter to Mr. Oldmixon, in which
she should unburden her mind of what was on it, and
appeal to him to allow Hogarth to rest in peace. She
wrote the letter that night. It was long, and covered
every part of the matter with that thoroughness that
only those who know what they want to say and know
how to say it are able to exhibit. Among other points
that she brought forward was one that related to the
policy of Mr. Oldmixon's course. " What advantage,"
she wrote, " can it be to a family to let the world know
that it has a murderer among its members, and to incur
the odium that attache^ to a public trial and a shameful
death on the gallows ? You may talk to me of the virtue
of a Brutus who coidd condemn his own son to death;
but, then, Brutus was a judge charged under his oath
with the administration of the law. Even in his case I
think he would better have shown his humanity by
resigning his office and leaving to some other less in-
terested magistrate the awful duty that he took upon
himself. But you have no excuse for your conduct.
You do not know that your nephew is guilty, but you
have started out for the purpose of proving him so by
his own confession, or at least of making him confess,
no matter whether he be guilty or not guilty. It will
not be diflScult for you to succeed in this, for I have read
that, many years ago, the reiterated accusation of being
a witch or a sorcerer was suflBcient to wring confession
from innocent women and Inen, even though they knew
that the stake and the fagot were waiting for them. If
physical torture will force an innocent person to confess,
how much more will mental torture bring a like residt?

"stop, if YOtr LOVE ME I" 881

" 1 thought once that I should like you. You are the
uncle of the man 1 love better than 1 love any other
person in all the world, and as such you are entitled to-
my aflEectionate regard. You are possessed of many
engaging qualities ; you have exhibited toward me a
degree of kindness for which I am grateful, and 1 am
anxious to stand well with you. You have several times
spoken of my influence with you and of the pleasure it
gave you to do anything that would aid in securing my
happiness. This is the first time I have appealed to you,
and I do it now, not only because of the object I have
in view, but because you have, by your goodness to me,
allowed me to think that I should not have to ask in
vain. Therefore I beg of you, by whatever considera-
tion you may have for the honor of your family, by
whatever regard for the principles of justice, by what-
ever affection for me, to stop all further efforts to fix the
crime of murder on your nephew. If he is guilty, God
will in His own due time search him with a thorough-
ness compared to which your attempts to reach the truth
are vain and blind and shallow. Besides, has He not said,
^ Vengeance is mine, I will repay ' ?

^' In my own humble way I have written. I cannot
plead eloquently with you, for I am not skilled in niceties
of speech, and perhaps in much that I have said I
have shown a lack of that tact that goes for so much
with those that are suppliants. But I have at least writ-
ten honestly, and with a desire to have you do what I
conceive to be right. May He who is all goodness and
mercy incline your heart to that charity ' that thinketh
no evil.'

" Your sincere friend,

" Babbaba Henschel."

382 MB. OLDMIXON.

She left her letter bo that it would be taken to the post-
office the first thing in the morning, and then went to
bed content with what she had done thus far, but resolved
to bring all the batteries to bear on Mr. Oldmixon that
she could place in position in • order to make him
renounce his scheme for extorting confession from his
nephew Hogarth.

CHAPTER XXVL

" MY GOD I WHICH SHALL IT BE ?"

Mb. Oldmixon, immediately on his return to his resi-
dence, went to the library and rang the bell for his man
Thomas. He had stopped at the Lucullus Club and
taken his dinner, so that it was nearly ten o'clock when,
in answer to his summons, Thomas entered the room.
Mr. Oldmixon was seated at his table engaged in turning
over the leaves of the manuscript of his novel, to which
he was apparently giving the deepest attention. The
man had been standing for several minutes waiting for
his presence to be recognized, but Mr. Oldmixon seemed
to have no thought* for anything but the matter before
him, for he went on making interlineations and erasures,
as though entirely oblivious of the fact that he had rung
for the man. At last, having — possibly by some intui-
tion—become aware of the fact that the man was in the
room — ^for he had not looked toward him — or else satis-
fied with the part of indifference he had been acting,
without raising his eyes from the papers before him or
ceasing his work he said :

"Thomas!''

"Yes, sir."

" How long have you been in my service ?"

"Eleven years, sir, next Christmas. You know, sir,
1 came on Christmas, because you wanted two men
for that day, and you were so much pleased with me

384 MB. OLDMIXON.

that you sent the other man away and gave me the
place."

^^ Oh, yes, so 1 did 1 Well, Thomas, 1 am very much
afraid that on that occasion I made a big fool of myself,
and that instead of your being a good, honest, and faith-
ful fellow, you're the damnedest scoundrel that lives
outside of the penitentiary. '*

^^Sir!"

^' Yes, Thomas," continued Mr. Oldmixon, with the
most indifferent manner imaginable, and still going on
with his work, never having yet even so much as looked
at the man, ^^ I am forced to the conclusion that, as
you are such a devilish traitor and villain, it will be con-
ducive to the cause of morality, as I know it will be to
my interests, that you should within the next half hour
take your horrid person ofiE my premises. You wiH find
a month's wages there on the comer of the mantel-
piece. Go, and never let me lay eyes on you again."

^' But," stammered the astounded Thomas, " what
have 1 done, sir ?" And then bursting into tears, " It's
too bad that, after I've done my duty for eleven years, I
should be abused in this way and dismissed without being
told what for !"

" Oh," exclaimed Mr. Oldmixon, rising from his
chair and approaching the man till he stood at the dis«
tance of a couple of feet from him, while he fixed his
eyes on him as though he would, if he could, pierce him
through and through — " oh, you're in an inquiring
frame of mind to-night, are you ? Well, you shall be
gratified. You went to see a woman named Bangs this
evening— a bird-stuffer in Lake Street I"

'' Yes, sir ; I—"

'' That will do. Who sent you ?'•

(C

MY god! which shall it be?" 385

" I went, sir — "

" Who sent you ?" thundered Mr. Oldmixon.

"Mr. Hogarth, sir," answered the man, thoroughly
terrified at the violence exhibited by his master.

" What for V

'^ Oh, sir, I only went to see if she was the young
woman that brought an animal here that she had stuffed
for Mr. Jack ! She thought this was where he lived."

" Then she has been in this house ?"

'^ Yes, sir, and she saw the bird that you had mounted,
and she said she had done it."

" She said she had stuffed that bird !" shrieked Mr.
Oldmixon. " Oh, the liar — the horrid liar !" And he
raised his hands as though completely dumbfounded at
the enormity of the offence.

(As we know that Mr. Oldmixon was already aware
of this claim of Miss Bangs, it is safe to assume that the
emotion exhibited was not so sincere as it appeared to
be.)

"Yes, sir," continued the wily Thomas, relieved to
find Mr. Oldmixon's anger diverted from himself,
"she said she had done it, and she told me the same
thing to-night."

" And you came home and told it to }iir. Hogarth, I
suppose, and that was what you went to find out, eh V '

" Yes, sir ; I didn't think there was any harm in it.
Mr. Hogarth wanted to know if she was the one that
came here."

"Now, sir, what did Mr. Hogarth tell you was his

object?" restmied Mr. Oldmixon, satisfied now that,

having sufficiently terrified the man, he should get the

truth.

" He said, sir, that he had a little joke to play off on
17

K ■

386 MB. OLDMIXON.

you, sir. That was all, and I didn't suppose there was
anything wrong."

''How much did he give you for being a traitor to
your employer ?"

'' Sir, 1—"

'' How much did he give you ?" repeated Mr. Old-
mixon, in a louder and more severe voice.

" Twenty dollars, sir."

'' And how much more are you to get ?"

'' A hundred dollars, sir."

" Ah !" said Mr. Oldmixon, resuming his seat and
going on with his work, satisfied that he had gotten all
the information to be obtained from the man ; " you
may remain in my service on one condition, and that is,
that you say nothing of all this to Mr. Hogarth, that
you tell mo of everything he says and does in regard to
this Bangs girl, and that you take this piece of paper to
him and tell him you found it lying on my desk among
some other memoranda. If you do these things faith-
fully 1 will not only keep you in my service, but I will
give you two hundred dollars, and perhaps — only j}er'
haps J remember — 1 may mention you in my will."

'' Thank you, sir," replied Thomas, with the cheerful-
ness natural to a man who had happily escaped from a
dangerous position. '' I'll do anything you wish me to
do, sir. Shall I give him the paper now, sir ?"

'' No ; wait till to-morrow morning. Then go to him
very quietly, and when no one is near, and slip this piece
of paper into his hand, saying that you found it on my
desk, and that you think it may be of some importance."
Mr. Oldmixon looked over the paper carefully, and this
is what he read :

" Memorandum for Mr. 7?^rf%. —Entire estate, real,

''my god! which shall it be?" 387

personal, and mixed, to go to my nephew John Oldmixon,
provided that before my death or within one year after
that event he marries Bangs.

'' In case ho shall, from any cause whatever, fail to
marry said . Bangs, then the said Bangs to re-
ceive the entire estate as aforesaid."

'' Did you find out Miss Bangs' s firet name ?" he said
to Thomas, while he still continued to look at the paper.

'* Yes, sir ; it's Lena."

Mr. Oldmixon took a pen and filled in the blanks.
*^ Lena Bangs," he said ; '' that's all right now. Now,
sir," turning to Thomas, ''you may have heard that
I'm a crank, or not quite sound in my mind, or some-
thing of the kind. Well, perhaps I'm not quite right
in the upper story, but I'm just the sort of a man that
will poison you, or bring you to some other violent and
sudden death, if you play me false in this affair in the
slightest particular.

'' You are to give this paper to Mr. Hogarth, as I
have told you ; you are to listen to what he says and
observe his actions, and then you are to come and report
everything to me. Now go."

He handed the paper to Thomas, and the man, with a
low bow, went off, glad to have escaped so easily, and
wondering how Mr. Oldmixon had obtained the knowl-
edge of his doings that afternoon.

The next morning, as Hogarth was leaving his room,
he saw Thomas standing near the head of the stairs, as
though waiting for him.

" 1 got your note," he said, as he joined the man.
'' You are quite sure she's the woman ?"

'' Oh, yes, sir ; there's no doubt of that. But I've
something el8e> sir. Last night, after Mr. Oldmixon

388 ME. OLDMIXON.

had gone to bed, I discovered that he had done some-
thing that 1 never knew him to do before — ^he had
forgotten to lock his desk. 1 looked through it, and 1
found this piece of paper, and as I thought it might
be of importance to you, 1 took it.''

As he spoke he handed the sKp to Hogarth.

The ktter ran his eye over the writing, and at once
his countenance showed the pleasure that the persnal
gave him.

'' This," he exclaimed, " is worth all the rest. Now,
1 know just what I've got to do. Thomas, I'll reward
you handsomely for this. Now, take it and put it back
exactly where you found it. My uncle might miss it,
and then there would be trouble. I know it by heart,
and it's of no further use to me."

Before becoming acquainted with the writing on the
little slip of paper Hogarth had felt a degree of mental
discomfort such as he had never before experienced.
He had passed a wretched night. All through the
hours that ought to have been passed in sleep he had
been in that state of semi-unconsciousness during which
the imagination, little, if at all, controlled by the judg-
ment, runs riot with the thoughts. Fancies of the most
horrible description had taken possession of him, and
several times he had, in his fright, jumped from the
bed and rushed terror-stricken to a distant part of the
room in his effort to escape from the phantoms that he
imagined he saw hovering over him, but which, as they
disappeared as soon as he was fully awake, he knew
must be only the fictions of dreams. The moment he
lay down again they reappeared, and though he tried
to fight them off by appeals to his reason, they were
so vivid and the impression they produced was so strong

''MY GOD ! WHICH SHALL IT BE ?'' 389

that a long contest was impossible, and, time after time,
they forced him to accept them as realities.

But there was one that, amid them all, kept its place.
Lying or standing, asleep or awake, he saw the face of
his wife as she had given him that last look ere he had
hidden it with the pillow and shut ont its gaze from
earth forever. There was no body, there was not even
a head ; there was nothing but the face, with its terri-
fied, despairing, pleading expression — a face that showed
that its possessor knew that her last moment had come,
that had perceived the look that was on his face, and was
reflecting the knowledge that there was no mercy for
her.

^^My God!" he exclaimed, after he had passed
several hours of agony, ''is there no escape for me?"
He shut his eyes, but the face was still there, immov-
able, unchanged, without the slightest variation in its
expression, and looking, for all the world, as though it
were carved in stone. He covered his own face with
his hands, with the bedclothes, but hers was still before
him.

" I cannot stand this very long," he said, as he arose
from the bed for perhaps the twentieth time that night.
'' I shall lose my mind if I am always to be haunted in
this way. And I had got over it all till that torturer
began his schemes and brought back ideas that 1 had
banished, as I thought, forever. I am afraid of him.
Yes, that is it. His allusions are so significant that he
must, in some way or other, have discovered something.
But how ?

'' My God I he may have heard me talk in my sleep.
There is no other way. Some night, or perhaps on f
Beveral nights, he has been in this room, has stood by '

f

390 MR. OLDMIXOK.

the side of my bed, and heard me tell the w^ole story
in my dreams. And that is what he invited me here
for. He had suspicions, and he was determined, if
possible, to verify them.

"Well, he has gained his point," he continued, as
he lit the gas and walked up and down the floor, " bnt
the battle is not yet over. I may still escape, and there
are two ways open to me. One involves his life ; the
other, my own. Either would give me peace. Which
shall it be ? My God 1 which shall it be ?"

Unconscious of the hideous sin he had committed in
asking God to decide for him whether he should per-
petrate a murder or a suicide, he sat down in front of
his dressing-table, and in the full blaze of the gaslight
studied his face.

'* It looks like the face of a guilty man," he said, with
a despairing expression of voice. " I would pick it out
from a thousand as that of a man with a crime on his
soul and in terror for his life."

He sat for a long while before the glass, apparently
thinking deeply of the alternatives that had been pre-
sented to his mind. Then he unbuttoned the collar of
his night-gown, and turning his head to one side, looked
at his neck, and then felt it carefully with the ends of
his fingers.

"It is here," he said, in a whisper; "I feel its
throb." His dressing-case was before him, and opening
it, he took out a razor, while the fingers of the other
hand remained on his neck over the carotid artery.

" It would be the easiest thing in the world to do," he
said. " A single motion of the hand, and all would be
over. No pain, no consciousness after the gash is made,
and a sudden and absolute cessation of all misery. ' '

*'my god! which shall it be?" 391

He laid the edge of the razor on his neck and held it
there, while he watched it rise and fall with the pulsa-
tions of the artery beneath it.

''Why don't I do it?" he said, hoarsely. 'Tm
not afraid of the future. Hell can't be worse than this
night, and, after all, there may be no hell. It would
be leaving a certainty of torment for an uncertainty, and
that would be a good exchange. A little stronger press-
ure of the hand, and then oblivion.

" No," he exclaimed, throwing the razor into a comer
of the room and springing to his feet, " it were better
his life than mine. I'll drown my sorrows in another
crime, just as the drunkard straightens himself up with
another drink. His face would not trouble me, and
perhaps it would drive hers away. Yes, his doom is
sealed. I'll marry the Bangs girl, secretly, before she
knows that she is his heiress, and then I'll quickly ex-
tinguish his life, as I did that of — of — the other. It's
the best way, and, as he has so assiduously endeavored to
teach me, leaves no signs. Besides, he is known to have
heart-disease. I'll go to his room at night, as he has
come to mine. I'll pay him off in his own coin, and
with compound interest."

Strange as it may seem, Hogarth felt a degree of
mental repose after he had arrived at the determination
to smother his uncle, such as he had not experienced
before for several days. The phantoms disappeared, and
even the face became less distinct, until, passing through
all stages of haziness, it finally disappeared altogether.
It was now broad daylight, and he had not had ten
minutes' complete sleep during the whole night. He did
not care to go back to bed, for his mind was so full of the
thoughts engendered by the determination to which he

-'•' ' - • ^- ' ^^-.^ ^^*.^-

392 3€R. OLDMIXON.

had come, that lie was sure sleep would be unattainable ;
BO he went into the dressing-room adjoining, and turn-
ing on tlic cold water in the bath-tub, got into it and
stayed tliere long enough to have seriously injured the
health of weaker or less excited persons, but which, on
him, had no other effect than to cool his heated skin
and lessen the force and frequency of a pulse that was
feverish in its quality.

Wlien he emerged from the bath, the temperature of
which was not many degrees above the freezing-point,
and after he had brought about the proper degree of
reaction by rubbing himself with coarse towels, he felt
like a new man, and fully equal to the performance of
the task that he had assigned to himself. He dressed
himself, and going out into the haJl on his way to the
breakfast-room, encountered Thomas, as we have seen,
and had received intelligence that had still further added
to his sense of hien aise and strengthened him in his
resolution to bring matters to a crisis. This piece of
information was the only thing needed to make him
absolutely sure that he was on the right track. Evidently
it had been a memorandum for Mr. Eidley for his guid-
ance in preparing the draft of the will, and it settled the
point definitely in favor of Miss Bangs. He therefore
entered the breakfast-room feeling that he was now
more than a match for his uncle, and resolved to let
nothing that might be said to him disturb the equanim-
ity that he knew was essential to the success of the
schemes he had in view.

Mr. Oldmixon was sitting in an arm-chair near the
window, reading a morning newspaper. On his nephew's
entrance he threw it aside and greeted him with all the
fervor of which he was capable.

"my god! which shall it be J" 393

" Come in, my dear boy. I'm glad to see yon look-
ing so well. 'Pon my honor, 1 never saw you look
better. What do you say to going to the theatre this
evening ?"

" I should be delighted," answered Hogarth. " Shall
I get a box as I go down-town this morning ?"

'' Yes, suppose you do. By the by, you've got to go
down to Kidley's office, haven't you, about the will ?
Don't forget that, whatever you do. You know I may
go now at any moment, and there's nothing like having
things in readiness. ^ You can take my coup6, as I'think
I'll stay at home this morning. Stop at Booth's Theatre
on your way down, and get a box for to-night. Salvini
plays Othello" — he glanced furtively at Hogarth as he
spoke these words — ^' and he does the smothering
scene with wonderful naturalness. You'll know as much
about it, my dear boy, after you see him press the pillow
over Desdemona's face, as though you had done the very
same thing yourself."

This was the most direct speech on the subject that
Mr. Oldmixon had yet made to his nephew, and the
effect was even more decided than he had anticipated.
He saw from Hogarth's manner that he had come into
the room prepared to resist all assaults of the kind and
resolved to brave it out to the last, and he, in his turn,
had determined to give him, at the very outset, a blow
that would probably have some effect in lessening his
self-confidence.

At the mention of the play of Othello, Hogarth's face
had blanched with fear, for he well knew what was
coming. He had, more than a year before, seen the
terribly realistic acting of Salvini, and the remembrance
of it had more than once since his own murderous act

17*

394 ME. OLDMIXON.

been brought to his mind. Before his uncle had finished
speaking he was trembling like an aspen leaf — all of
which was duly observed by Mr. Oldmixon — ^and had
determined that nothing should make him see the great
actor again in that part. As the last words fell upon his
ears the pallor of his countenance approached that of
death ; he rose to his feet, and then, with a low, inarticu-
late cry, he dropped upon the floor, as though he had
been shot, and lay there, his face changed to a livid hne
and frightfully distorted, his limbs jerking spasmodically,
as though moved by a powerful galvanic battery, and his
mind a blank to everything that was going on about
him.

Mr. Oldmixon sat and looked at the struggling form
before him, apparently unmoved by the frightful sight.
He seemed to be engaged in studying the various con-
tortions that the arms and legs were undergoing, and
imagining to himself what would be the next expression
that the face of the unconscious man would assume.
Then suddenly an idea occurred to him.

^' This will never do !" he exclaimed — ^' dying with-
out confessing. Oh, no ; 1 can never allow that !" He
got up from his chair with as much celerity as was
attainable, and rang the bell. Then he took the little
vial of the nitrite of amyl from his waistcoat pocket, and
pouring a few drops on his hand, held it over Hogarth's
mouth. By this time Thomas had answered the bell.

^' Mr. Hogarth has a fit, or something of the kind,"
said Mr. Oldmixon to the man. '^ Loosen his cravat
and bring that pillow from the lounge and put it under
his head.

*'He's coming round," he continued, as he noticed
that the purple hue of the face was disappearing, and that

"my god! which shall it B^V^ 395

the qonvulsive movements were less violent. " He'll be
all right in a moment or two. Go and tell Dan to come
and help you to carry him up to his own room and lay
him on the bed."

But before Thomas could go on this errand the sick
man opened his eyes, and looking wildly about him, began
to talk incoherently, a word or two only being occasionally
distinguishable, while the rest was a mass of thick gut-
tural gibberish. Then he raised himself on his elbow,
and with Thomas's assistance managed to assume the
erect posture and to stand supported by the man's arm,
though his legs trembled as though they would every
moment give way under him.

" Do you feel better, my dear boy ?" said Mr. Old-
mixon, in a sympathizing voice. '' 1 was just about to
have you carried up-stairs to your room, where you will
be more comfortable. But perhaps you would prefer
to stay here ? Yes ? Put the pillow back on the lounge,
Thomas, and help Mr. Hogarth to make himself comfort-
able. 1 had no idea you were subject to such turns.
You will have to see a doctor. Don't send for Jimnay,
whatever you do. He's an ass, and liked to have killed
me a week or so ago. Besides, he's got the dyspepsia,
and a doctor with a bad stomach always has a bad heart.
Get Milledge ; he's the only doctor in New York that
knows anything. He'll charge you twenty-five dollars
for the first visit, but when he's gone you'll feel that
you've had the worth of your money. Shall I send for
him, my dear boy ? So sorry you should be so afflicted !"

By this time Hogarth had been led to the lounge and
was about lying down on it. He turned toward his
uncle as the question reached his ears, and looked at him
stupidly for a moment ; then he let his head fall on the

396 MR. OLDMIXOIS'.

pillow, and in an instant was in a heavy sleep, or rather
stupor, if a judgment could be formed from the charac-
ter of his breathing and the dull, stolid, vacant e:q)res8ioii
on his turgid and still livid face.

Mr. Oldmixon went on with his breakfast, and having
finished it, he gave a look at his nephew, who was still
insensible and breathing heavily. '' It's only the stupor
after the fit," he said to himself, as he went to the library.
''I had an aunt that used to have one every Sunday
morning, just as regularly as the day came round, and the
stupor lasted till late in the afternoon. It's epilepsy, and
it's in the Oldmixon family, along with the other nice
heritages they possess. I'll not bother him with a doctor.
But, by George ! how that Shakesperian shot told ! If
it hadn't been for the fit he would have confessed then
and there. It was on his mind to do so — I know by
that look that he gave me just before he went to sleep.
He couldn't collect his thoughts. He knew there was
something, but he couldn't tell what it was. I heard him
say ^ Camilla ' and ' pillow ' while he was still on the
fioor and trying to talk. O you scoundrel !" he con-
tinued, as he seated himself at his desk and began work-
ing on his manuscript, " you black-hearted murderer, I'll
bring you to it, if you have to suffer the torments of the
damned, and then you will not have half atoned for your
cruel crime. I should like to be present with him at
Salvini's performance of the part of Othello. By Heaven !
I believe it would kill him. "

He had not been engaged more than a few minutes
when Thomas entered with the morning's letters. There
were half a dozen, all for Mr. Oldmixon. He scarcely
looked at them, but went on with his alterations in his
manuscript, so that a half hour had elapsed l)efore he

W

''my god! which shall it be?" 397

turned his attention to the communications, still un-
opened, that lay before him.

Then he slit up their envelopes with a paper-knife, and
read a line or two of each, so as to see that it was of no
importance, till he came to one post-marked New
Eochelle, and directed in a handwriting which, though
he had never seen it before, he knew was Barbara's.

" Ah !" he exclaimed, pressing it to his lips, '' the
angel writes to me. What is there that 1 would not do
for her ? Nothing — absolutely nothing ! If she were to
ask me to put a millstone around my neck and jump into
the East River, I'd do it at once. Let me see what the
sweet girl wants."

He opened the letter as he had the others, but, unlike
his actions with them, he read it through carefully to the
end. Then he laid it down on the desk, and shutting
his eyes, lay back in the chair to think. For nearly an
hour he remained abstracted from the consideration of
every other subject but the contents of Barbara's letter.
Then, taking the letter he read it again, still more slowly
than before, and holding it in his hand, paced the floor,
stopping now and then to read parts of it again. At
last he appeared to have made up his mind what to do,
for he went to his desk and wrote two letters— one to
Barbara and one to Jack.

That to Barbara was as follows :

*^ My deab Barbara : I have read your dear letter,
and have been greatly impressed by what you say. I
should be very glad if I could see you again. Will not
you and your father dine with me at six o'clock on Friday
evening next ? I make the hour early, because you will
then be able to return home by the eleven p.m. train.

398 MB, OLDKIXON.

After dinner I shall be delighted to read you a chapter
of my novel. My carriage will meet you at the station,
and will take you back. I have invited Jack, and of
course he will come. Tou will also have an opportunity
of making the acquaintance of my nephew Hogarth, in
whom you are so much interested.
** Yours afiectionately,

" ViCrrOE CONSTANTINK OlDMIXON."

To Jack he wrote :

*^ My dear Jack : Dine with me to-morrow at six.
I have invited Barbara and her father. 1 wish your
opinion on certain parts of my novel, which I am now
preparing for the press. I propose to read them to you
after dinner.

*^ You will also meet your brother Hogarth. I am
sure it is only necessary for me to tell you this in order
to increase your anxiety to be present. The virtue of
forgiveness is one that need not be urged upon so good
a man as you. Come, therefore, with the resolution to
take him again into your heart. Bury the hatchet. Jack.
1 am burying all mine, and getting ready therefore to face
my Maker ; but 1 find the process requires a larger grave-
yard than I at first expected. However, the work goes
bravely on.

** Your affectionate uncle,

^' Victor.'^

Then, having sealed these letters and sent them to be
mailed, he dressed himself with his usual care and strolled
down to the LucuUus Club-house.

CHAPTER XXYII.

^' EVKRYTHING'fl GOING ON WELL."

Mb. Oldmlson's dinner was for Friday, and it was
on Tuesday of the same week that he sent out his in-
vitations. On the following morning — Wednesday —
Barbara went to town as usual, having received Mr.
Oldmixon's letter the previous evening, but concluding
that she would not answer it tiU she had seen Jack. On
the day following Mr. Oldmixon's visit to her he had, as
was his habit now, met her at the station, and had walked
with her to Mr. Maurice's studio. These morning
walks in the fresh, bracing December air were the chief
pleasures that the two young people had, except those
oflfered by Jack's Saturday-evening visits to Lasata and
his stay through Sunday till Monday morning. During
this walk she had informed him of all that had taken
place between her and Mr. Oldmixon, and of the dis-
covery she had made that she was the woman for whom
his uncle designed him and who was to receive his estate,
should Jack neglect or refuse to marry her. Of course
this information pleased the young man exceedingly,
and he was not inclined to regard the matter in the light
of a liberty, almost amounting to an insult, as had Barbara.
It took from his mind all the regret that he had experi-
enced at not being able to oblige his uncle, and he was,
besides, enough of a man of the world to know the
advantages that Mr. Oldmixon's estate would be to

400 MR. OLDKIXOK.

himself and his wife. Then, after settling that point
eTentually to their satisfaction, Barbara had asked his
advice in r^ard to her going to see Miss Bangs and put-
ting her on her guard against the devices of Hogarth.
She had thought of the subject a good deal since Mr.
Oldmixon^s departure, and the more she had considered
the matter the more she was disposed to enlighten her
taxidermist rival and the robber of her reputation rela-
tive to the scheme of which it seemed as though she was
about to be the subject.

Jack, however, after as long and mature thought as
was poGsible while walking down Fifth Avenue, with
Barbara bv his side, had expressed his decided opinion
that interference now would be premature.

** It isn't likely,'' he said, " that Hogarth, under any
circumstances, will marry Miss Bangs at once. In fact,
I do not see how he could, even if he wanted to. He has
probably never seen her in his life, and though it is
likely that as soon as she makes his acquaintance and
finds out who he is she will agree to marry him, several
days must elapse before the arrangements can be effected.
Xow, yon see, ray dear Bab," he continued, assuming
his most argumentative manner, ^' the only reason why
Hogarth wishes to marry Miss Bangs, if he really has
such a desire — and of that you must admit that we have
no positive evidence — is that he supposes her to be the
heiress of my uncle' s property. Of course, from his stand-
point such a marriage would have to be kept secret till
my uncle'^s death, for certainly if Miss Bangs were the
heiress, as we will say Hogarth snpposes her to be, the
ni-ill would certainly be changed by my uncle as soon as he
became aware of the marriage. Hogarth is too shrewd
a fellow not to look out for all possible contingencies.

*' everything's going on well." 401

Now, it strikes me that the one absolutely sure way to
prevent the marriage would be to inform Hogarth that
Miss Bangs is not the heiress, that my uncle has no inten-
tion of making her such, or of in any way altering the
will abeady made. He would believe this if the informa-
tion came from me, and I will tell him at once. Then,
don't you see. Miss Bangs would not be brought into the
matter at all, unless Hogarth should want to marry her
out of love, which it is very unlikely he will care to do."

" I think you are right," said Barbara, after she had
thought for a little while of what Jack had said ; ^^ but
lose no time ; events seem to me to be coming to a focus,
and there is really every reason why you should act
speedily."

"When he met her the next morning they had both
received their invitations to dine with Mr. Oldmixon
on the following Friday. Jack had already accepted his,
but Barbara had, as we know, detennined to advise with
her lover on the subject before deciding to partake of
Mr. Oldmixon's hospitality. Jack was of the opinion
that she ought to go. It would please his uncle, and
it would please him. What more could she want ?

'^ I'll meet you and your father at the station and
take you over to Uncle Victor's house, and then when
the dinner is over I'll take you back. Besides, we shall
of course sit together at the table."

" It will all be very nice, but I do not like the idea of
meeting your brother ; in fact, I am afraid of him."

" I don't like the idea either," rejoined Jack, " but
Uncle Victor is evidently in a forgiving mood, brought
about, doubtless, by your letter, and I don't think it
would be advisable for me to say or do anything that
might prompt him to change his present disposition. He ^

j^' •«

402 MR. OLDMIXOK.

lias appealed to me to make friends with Hogarth, and 1
have decided to do so. My brother has heretofore been
ID J worst enemy, bnt I suppose that that is no reason
why I should not be ready to meet him half-way in a
reconciliation."

^' That is right," exclaimed Barbara, with emphasis.
'^ I am glad that my letter has apparently not been with-
out influence. Then we will all go,* and may the dinner
be the means of restoring peace among us !

'^ And, Jack,^' resumed Barbara, with an arch smile,
after they had walked a little farther, " don't you think
that, as your undo is going to tell us his story, you might
inform us how you caught the silver fox ? You know
wo are still in ignorance of the process of capture."

** By George ! I forgot all about the silver fox. Of
course, I'll tell yon. You see, Bab, we've always had so
many things to talk about and so little time at our dis-
posal, that it has always escaped my memory. It's a
wonderful story, and will make each individual hair of
your head stand on end."

'' Then I shall look like a comet, or a blaziug star, or
some other fiery contrivance."

By this time they had reached the door of the apart-
ment house in which Mr. Maurice had his studio. It
was not often that Jack went any farther, for he thought
it only right that Barbara should be allowed all the time
and opportunity to advance in her new profession, with-
out let or hindrance from him. But to-day she was so
anxious to show him her work on a head of her father
that she was modelling, and he was so anxious to see it,
that it did not take much pereuasion to induce him to go
up with her.

Mr. Maurice had several young lady pupils whose in-

"everything's going on well." 403

struction was generally left to Mrs. Maurice, until, at least,
they had acquired the rudiments of the art, and had shown
some degree of talent for the work before them. It very
often happened that a pupil never got farther than tte
instruction that the lady was able to give her ; for if she
showed an incapacity for advancing, Mr. Maurice very
frankly, but very kindly told her of the fact, and advised
her to take to some profession for which she might be
better adapted than she was for sculpture. Barbara,
however, had almost immediately passed from Mrs.
Maurice's mim'strations to those of her husband. She
had from the very first shown a genius for her chosen
art, that had at once surprised and delighted him, and he
had, in consequence, taken that loving interest in her ad-
vancement that was in itself an incentive to her, only
second in power to her own inherent love for the work
to which she had resolved to devote herself.

For several days past her father had either accompa-
nied her to the city, or had come to the studio in order to
give her the sittings she required in modelling a bust of
him. She had taken the utmost interest in this produc-
tion, and it promised to be in every way worthy of her
genius. Mr. Henschel's head was one that an artist could
not fail to notice and to admire. It was not unlike, in
general characteristics, that of some mediaeval saint, with
its long white beard, and its face expressive both of that
sternness and gentleness that the holy worthies of the
middle ages are represented by the painters of the time
to have possessed, and which those of the present day
deem it essential to give them.

Jack did not stay long at the studio. He admired the <
head, which was already well advanced toward comple-
tion, talked a little with Mr. and Mrs. Maurice and heard

404 MR. OLDMIXON^.

with pleasure their enoomimns of Barbara, and then went
to the Lncnllns Chib to meet his nncle, with whom he
had an appointment.

As he walked down the street, Jack wondered what
was the particolar matter about which his uncle wished
to see him. In his letter of acceptance he had very mag-
nanimouslT expressed his approval of the plan of recon-
ciliation, but he was, of course, anxious to know some-
thing more definite in regard to what was expected of
him, and he hoped to be able to get some information on
the subject that morning. But he felt now that it was
not to talk about that that his unde had requested this
interview, but doubtless for some purpose of his own
that interested him greatly, and in which he desired his
nephew's co-operation. On that point he did not feel
much doubt.

In talking the matter over with Barbara, they had both
alluded to the fact that, while Mr. Oldmixon had pointed
out to Jack the duty that was upon him, of forgiving his
brother, he had markedly refrained from saying anythiDg
about what he himself contemplated doing. In his
letter to Barbara he had avoided the subject altogether.
This struck them both as being suspicious of the fact that
he was not so forgiving as he apparently desired others to
be. Jack had seen enough of his uncle to be aware of
the fact that he could be intensely secretive when he
chose to be so, and that he was at all times utterly nn-
sonipulous as to the means he took to accomplish his
objects. He seemed to have no conscience whatever in
the matter of deceiving those whom he assumed to love
and respect, and for whom he probably did have a high
rogjird ; nor to be actuated by any other principle than
an intensely morbid impulse to accomplish his ends

''EVERYTHIiq^G's GOING ON WELL." 405

without reference to the morality of the means em-
ployed.

As to whether Mr. Oldmixon was- correct in his belief
that Hogarth had murdered his wife by smothering her
with a pillow. Jack was more in doubt than he had been.
The fact that his uncle had, many years ago, been at
Annapolis, as he had admitted to Barbara, and had prob-
ably occupied the very rooms he had so minutely described,
had somewhat weakened the conviction of his brother's
guilt that he had, after the visit to that city, been forced
to form. Still, he was by no means satisfied of Hogarth's
innocence. There was a degree of positiveness about his
uncle's assertions that impressed him very strongly, and
he could scarcely go so far as to ascribe the correctness
of his topography of the rooms in the hotel at Annapolis
to recollections revived after having been dormant for
over thirty years, and when the fact of the visit had
altogether faded from the memory.

But, whether his brother were guilty or not. Jack was
perfectly clear as to the impropriety of his uncle's tak-
ing the part of a detective or that of a questioner in a
torture process. In this he had not changed since Mr.
Oldmixon had first revealed his intentions, and he was
delighted to find that Barbara was equally emphatic as he
was himself in her denunciations of his uncle's proced-
ure. There was a bare hope that the old gentleman had
renounced his intentions, and that the dinner would wit-
ness the restoration of peace all around, to the extent
that peace was possible in a family in which there were
so many disturbing factors as there were in his. So far
as he was concerned he was prepared to get on good
terms with Hogarth, but as to being friendly with him,
as one brother should be with another. Jack felt that

406 MB. OLDKIXOX.

that would be impoesible. He bad no respect for Ho-
garth ; he knew that he was, in every relation of life, a bad
man — one that had, in fact, scarcely a redeeming quality,
if, indeed, he was not wholly and incorrigibly depraved.
To be on relations of intimacy and confidence witli such a
man was out of the question. But Jack intended to
again insist upon Hogarth being made co-heir with him-
self to his uncle's estate, or failing in attaining his wish,
to make over by deed of gift one exact half of the prop-
erty so soon as it should come into his possession. It
would seem as though a man or a woman cannot be so
utterly wicked and degraded but that there are some
good people constantly on the watch to protect their in-
terests.

When he arrived at the Lucullus Club House he found
that his uncle was already there and was expecting him
in the reception-room.

^'I've only just come, my boy, so that you haven't
kept me waiting a moment,' ' said Mr. Oldmixon, as he
shook his nephew heartily by the hand. " It's an infer-
nal outrage that 1 can't ask you any farther into the
Club House than this reception-room, unless I invite you
to dinner, and it's too early for that. Here we're liable
to be interrupted any moment. By George ! I'll start a
club in which members shall have the privilege of asking
their friends into a private room when they want to have
conversation that they don't want all the town to hear."

'' That wouldn't be a bad idea. Uncle Victor," said
Jack, laughing. *' Still, it's so early in the morning that
we're not likely to be disturbed."

^* Well, my dear boy, sit down. If any fellow comes
in we'll jump into my carriage. I told Dan to be here
by eleven o'clock." He dropped into a large arm-chair,

*' everything's going on well." 407

in which he was nearly wholly concealed, and Jack took
one equally comfortable near him.

" Everything's going on well," resumed Mr. Oldmix-
on, as he handed Jack his cigar-case and took a "weed"
for himself. * * I've almost brought that scoundrel Hogarth
to a confession. Every time I mention smothering to
him he goes off into some kind of a fit — epileptic, I sup-
pose — and doesn't get over it for several hours. I wish
you could have seen the effect yesterday when 1 invited
him to go with me to see Salvini play Othello and smother
Desdemona. I was afraid at first that he was going to
die without making a confession in so many words, but for-
tunately he came to himself again. Jack, my boy, I'd
give ten thousand dollars if I could get him to go and see
Salvini in Othello ! He'll never do it. It would be the
last of him, and I believe he would end with a full con-
fession."

"Oh, uncle I can't you make up your mind to cease
your warfare on Hogarth ? What is to be gained by it
beyond the horrid satisfaction you may obtain of having
your suspicions confirmed? Surely, for that poor reward,
you are not going to make Barbara and me, and event-
ually yourself, unhappy !"

" Barbara ! Oh, Jack, my dear boy, to think that you
and I should have been two such fools as almost to quar-
rel about a matter upon which we were both agreed I I
was just going to tell you how much pleasure the discov-
ery I made gave me, when you introduced this Hogarth
affair. Jack," continued Mr. Oldmixon, in a subdued
voice, "get married as soon as you can. Perhaps if
Hogarth should be hanged for his crime she might feel
inclined to back out. Take her at once, my boy, before
he makes confession. Don't you think you could get

408 MR. OLDMIXON.

her to go with you this morning to a parson and have the
knot tied ? I asked you to meet me here for the purpose
of putting this matter before you. My dear boy, hurry
matters up at once, or I am afraid she'll slip through your
fingers after all."

Jack was astounded. He looked at his uncle, unable
for a while to speak a word. Then he said, very slowly
and very sedately :

" I think you do not know Barbara. If Hogarth and
you were both to be hanged, she would not give me up.
I would not dare to insult her by proposing such a scheme
as the one you suggest. She is as gentle, as refined, as
truthful as — as — I can't find anything to compare her
with," he added, as his ideas of lovely beings failed
him.

Mr. Oldmixon rose and shut the door.

'* Jack, my boy," he said, as he laid a hand on Jack's
shoulder, while his emotion almost choked his utterance,
^^ don't, for God's sake, look at the matter in that way !
I adore her as much as you do, and would be the last man
to say a word or advise an act that could properly be
construed into one of disrespect. But, my God, Jack,
I am afraid ! Think of the disgrace of having a brother-
in-law hanged ! Would you marry her if her father was
a convict or was about to be tried for his life ?' '

"Yes," exclaimed Jack, interrupting him. "I'd
marry her if every relation she overbad in the world had
been hanged."

" But she's so good herself. Jack, so pure, that I'm
afraid that when she hears the whole truth about Ho-
garth, and he has been hanged in the jail-yard at An-
napolis, she'll fell wronged and disgraced, and will pine
away and die of her grief."

b

(4

everything's going on well/' 409

"1 tell you yon don't know her," cried Jack, excited-
ly. " I've talked the whole matter over with her, and
she's as true as steel. I'll never insult her by proposing
a marriage that would disgrace an immigrant just landed
from the steerage. Please God, she shall marry me in
her father's house, in decency and in order, or not at all !"

" My poor boy, you don't know women as I know
them. No matter how good they may be, they have
their peculiarities, and the better they are the more dis-
tinctively peculiar they are. Barbara comes of an hon-
orable stock, humble though it may be, and she and her
father are as proud as Lucifer, and whatever she may
say now you may depend upon it that when your brother
stands, as he will, under the shadow of the gallows, she'll
give you up, if it kills her to do so. No, no !" seeing that
Jack was about to expostulate, ^^ hear me out to the end
before you say another word. See here !" taking as he
spoke a bundle of papers from the breast-pocket of his
coat. " I shall not live more than a month or two long-
er, at most ; I feel certain symptoms about my heart
that warn me of my approaching end. By my will all
my estate goes to you or Barbara — it makes no differ-
ence now which of you gets it — but, lest you should be
apprehensive that 1 might play you a trick, I have here
deeds and bonds and certificates of stock amounting to
six hundred thousand dollars that I am going to make
over to you now, by deed of gift. The papers are all in
order, I executed the deed this morning before a notary,
and all you have to do is to marry Barbara to-day, or to-
morrow at farthest, and the whole of it is yours. I have
kept back about two hundred thousand dollars, enough
to yield me all the income I shall want while I live, and

which will also go to you when I die."
18

410 MB. OLDiaXOK.

i a

Jack rose from his chair long before Mr. Oldmixoii
finished speaking, and was pacing the floor in a state of
extreme agitation. His nncle's pertinacity and evident
sincerity troubled him greatly, though the magnifi^cent
offer made to him did not at all shake him in the de-
termination he had already expressed. It was only an-
other evidence to his, mind of the unchanged resolution
of his uncle to bring Hogarth to confession and disgrace,
if it were in his power to do so, and he shuddered 9$ he
thought of the indignity that the whole matter was like-
ly to fix upon the Oldmixon family and all connected
with him. He felt assured that his unde was entirely
certain of Hogarth's guilt, and that he meant to expose
him at the earliest possible moment, probably at the din-
ner to which he and B£u*bara had been invited, and which
he now determined that neither he nor Barbara would
attend unless assurances were given that no such act was
in contemplation.

"I cannot accept your offer. Uncle Victor, '' he said,
at last. '' I am sensible of the existence of a sincere de-
sire on your part to secure Barbara for me as a wife.
You need be under no apprehension in regard to the
matter, for she will as certainly marry me as that the sun
shines in the heavens. I have no fear, but if you feel
that there is the slightest uncertainty on the subject,
you have it in your power to banish it by simply resolv-
ing to let Hogarth rest in piece, to be punished by his
own conscience and as God may otherwise diuect."

" My dear boy 1" exclaimed Mr. Oldmixon, in a hoarse
voice, ^' 1 can't do that. It is impossible. I have tried
to bring my mind to such a conclusion, but it is out of
the question. I can't do it." He looked helplessly
about him as he spoke these last words, his gaze resting

" everything'^s going on well." 411

at last on Jack as though he was appealing to him to
give him the strength he required.

" Then, Uncle Victor," said Jack, who notwithstand-
ing that he pitied his uncle, was convinced, from former
experience, that the exhibition of compassion was not at
all calculated to make him yield, '^ there is but one thing
for Barbara and Mr. Henschel and me to do, and that is
to stay away from your dinner. It would be very dis-
tressing to all of us to be present at such a scene as you
possibly have it in your power to get up. It would be
peculiarly unbecoming in you to develop your opin-
ions in Barbara's presence. She is about to become a
member of the family, and, though I think it right that
she should know — and she does know — that there are
skeletons in our closets, I think it exceedingly scandalous
to drag them out and exhibit them to her in all their
disgraceful proportions, and at a dinner, too, where very
different means of entertainment should be provided by
the host for his guests than that of exposing a supposed
murderer, and he his own nephew."

" Well, Mr. Jack Oldmixon," exclaimed the old gen-
tleman, who, while Jack was speaking, had recovered his
equanimity, "if you think you have quite concluded
your discourse, perhaps you will allow me the opportu-
nity of saying a word. Who said anything about expos-
ing the villain, the basilisk, at my dinner-table ? Do
you take me for such a vulgar wretch as to interfere with
the appetites of my guests by harassing their minds with
ideas of that scoundrel's crimes ? Do you suppose that
I could run the risk of having my houdins de perdreaux
h la Richelieu or my pain de giMer au sujpremey upon
which so much care will be exercised, unappreciated,
perhaps even to be handed round without being tasted ?

412 MR. OLBMIXOK.

Ko, yon do not know me if yon suppose for a moment
that I wonld commit an ontrage of the kind, and I feel
hurt, yes, angry, that yoa should think me snch a savage
as yonr suspicions imply." And Mr. Oldmixon's eyes
filled with tears so rapidly that repeated applications of
his handkerchief were necessary for their absorption.

" I beg your pardon. Uncle Victor," said Jack^ hum-
bly, " I did not intend — "

** No, no I of course you ' did not intend,' " rejoined
Mr. Oldmixon, in a tone of voice that was intended to
convey the idea that the feelings of the speaker were in-
jured to a degree that would not readily be lessened.
"It is always the unintentional word that cuts the
deepest. You shall all eat your dinners in peace, and
with that amount of enjoyment that the goodness of the
feast and the excellence of the company will warrant.
After dinner 1 had proposed to read a few pages from
my novel, hoping that they would interest those that I
had brought together ; but if this plan is disagreeable to
you it can easily be changed, and we can have a recita-
tion from you, or a chapter from the Bible, if it suits you
better, read by that eminent biblical expositor and exem-
plar, Mr. Hogarth Oldmixon."

"Again, I humbly beg your pardon," reiterated Jack,
" and express my regret at my error. Of course we will
have the novel ; I am anxious to hear a specimen of it
read and by such a good reader as you are ; and Barbara,
likewise, is greatly interested."

"Then you want to -hear a chapter or so from my
novel, and you are quite sure Barbara would also be
pleased with the reading?" said Mr. Oldmixon, much
mollified by Jack's soothing speech. " My dear boy, you
shall both be gratified ! I shall select the most interest-

*'evebythikg's going on well." 413

ing chapter of the book, one that I am sure will keep
your attention riveted ; for its dramatic intensity is so
pronounced that the minds of those persons hearing it
read will be so engrossed that thoughts other than those
excited by my ideas will be impossible."

Jack made a satisfactory rejoinder to this burst of self-
adulatory enthusiasm, and soon afterward took his depar-
ture. Mr. Oldmixon retamed his deeds and valuable
papers to his pocket, apparently feeling little or no re-
gret at his failure to induce Jack to receive them as a
bribe for hastening his marriage with Barbara. Then
he took two or three strides across the floor, as though to
get rid of some surplus energy before going out into the
public rooms of the club house, and finally, with a look of
self-satisfaction, not altogether free from that species of
facial expression that is designated Mephistophelian, or
diabolical, or Satanic, or by some other adjective expres-
sive of the personality of the Prince of Darkness, he put
on his hat, buttoned up his coat, and, passing through the
hall to the street, ordered his coachman to drive him to
the National Academy, where there was an exhibition of
pictures — among which was the one Jack had painted for
Mr. Van der Linden, and which he had not yet seen.

CHAPTEE XXVin.

HOOABTH IS SATISFIED.

The episode of Othello had a greater effect upon Ho-
garth Oldmixon than any other that had been introduced
by his uncle, and it was not until late the following day
that he had entirely recovered from the mental and phys-
ical disturbance consequent upon the paroxysm with
which he had been visited. He had now no doubt that
his secret was known to at least one person^ and that
there was a systematic attempt being made to cause him
trouble. "What the ultimate object of his persecutor
was he could not divine ; he did not believe that it ex-
tended to the point of deliveriug him up to justice to be
tried for his crime. He was not able to conceive of the
possibility of his own uncle, who, up to quite a recent
period, had been his friend and protector, acting the part
of a detective policeman and doing all in his power to
bring him to the gallows. He was quite sure that no
one saw him kill his wife, and that the persecution to
which he was subjected was altogether based upon con-
jecture and suspicion. He was also very certain that his
own conduct, in the face of his uncle's tortures, had had
the effect of strengthening the belief of his guilt that
was entertained by his tormentor, and had consequently
served to encourage him to still more positive efforts to
make him say or do something that would place his crim-
inality beyond a perad venture. Hitherto, however want-

HOGABTH IS SATISFIED. 415

ing in the confidence of innocence lus conduct might
have been under the taunts and innuendoes heaped upon
him, he had never positively committed himself by
words, or even let drop an expression that could, by the
most eager detective, have been construed into an
acknowledgment of guilt. He had been several times
on the point of confessing, and of throwing himself on
his uncle's mercy, but had up to the present time main-
tained sufficient command of himself to keep silent.
The impulses he had experienced to reveal all were
bom of the occasions, and were instinctively self -defen-
sive, unprompted as they were by deliberate thought ; but
as he lay in bed on the morning of the day of his uncle's
dinner and looked up at the ceiling in a meditative sort
of a way, he was not quite sure that it would not be
well to seek out his persecutor as soon as possible and
make a clean breast of it. This was the only alternative
that then presented itself to that of murdering his uncle
and marrying Miss Bangs, whom he was certain was the
woman to whom the estate had been devised, in the
event of Jack failing to marry her.

The question was certainly a momentous one : confes-
sion of one murder or the perpetration of another ; and
Hogarth thought it over as thoroughly as the state of his
brain permitted. His head still ached, he had passed a
restless night, and his mind was by no means clear that
morning, so that he was not able to bring to bear the
full force of an intellect that, in a state of health, gener-
ally served him well. But he did his best in the effort
to arrive at a decision that should be final. He felt con-
fident that matters were approaching a crisis, and he had
some apprehension that with the evidences of criminality
that his uncle had already obtained he might at any

416 MR. OLI>MIXON.

moment denounce him. He did not', it is true, think
that there was much danger of such a coarse being
pursued ; but Mr. Oldmixon was a singular being who
could never be depended upon for doing what others
thought he ought to do, and, besides, Hogarth did not
know the extent of his information. He must have
something positive, he thought, or why should he have
begun such a systematic and well-formed an attack ? Be
could not have been more explicit in his assaults if he
had seen the murder committed, for at one time or an-
other he had insinuated every feature of the deed as it
had actually occurred. The thought of all this was very
terrible to Hogarth, He perceived that his uncle was
merciless, and that his words and acts that had the ap-
pearance of kindness were intensely hypocritical and a
part of his general plan of deception. He now saw why
he had been invited to the house, and he thoroughly
comprehended the fraud of the new will, the rough
draft of which was still in his coat pocket undelivered
to Mjp. Eidley, but which he would take down to him
to-day.

Perhaps it would be better to defer deciding the mat-
ter till he had seen Mr. Kidley, and observed that gentle-
man in the presence of the draft of the new will that he
had been authorized to deliver to him. That would only
be postponing the further consideration for a few hours,
and then he would probably be in a better position for
arriving at a conclusion than he was now. Mr. Ridley
was a very different person from his uncle, and would
not lie or knowingly be a party to a fraud. One thing
was certain, he could not much longer endure the daily
tortures that his uncle was inflicting on him. He felt
that his mind was giving way ; for, though he had not

HOGABTH IS SATISFIED. 417

since his decision of a few days ago seen the face that
had haunted him, he had had other mental troubles of
fully as serious* a character. He had been disposed to at-
tribute the disappearance of the face to the fact that his
mind had lost its uncertainty when he had resolved that
his uncle should be smothered, but he had since then
been fully as perplexed as ever before in regard to the
course to be pursued, and yet the face had not returned.
As he lay in bed he speculated in regard to the appear-
ance and disappearance of the hallucination that had so
disturbed him, and though he could give no satisfactory
explanation of the phenomenon, he fully recognized the
fact of its unreality. '^ 1 suppose," he said to himself,
^^ that I had been thinking so much about the matter
and had got into such a worried condition of mind that
my brain wouldn't work right. Well, 1 don't believe it
would trouble me much now if it were to come back ;
there is such a thing," he added, with a little laugh, '^ as
getting used to being haunted."

Mr. Oldmixon, of course, had told him of the dinner
that was to take place that evening, and had also informed
him who were to be the guests.

' " You know, my dear boy,' ' he had said, ** that I am a
very old man and shall not probably stay much longer
with you all. 1 have become reconciled to Jack, and I
wish you to do so likewise. Surely you can afford to be
magnanimous to your brother, seeing that you will suc-
ceed to the whole of my estate."

Hogarth had with as good a grace as was possible ex-
pressed his willingness to resume relations with Jack,
but had added that he was feeling so badly after his re-
cent attack that he begged to be excused from being
present. He would meet Jack, he said, the following

18»

418 MB. OLDMIXON. •

day, and then tliej conld exchange regrets and become
friends again.

'^ No, no," replied Mr. Oldmixon, " that will not do
at all ; I never saw you looking better than you do now.
I not only want you to see Jack, but I am especially
desirous to have you meet the lady he is going to
marry."

" Jack is going to be married !"

" Yes, he chose to select his wife without reference to
my wishes, but that is no reason why the family should
not treat her kindly, especially as I believe she is quite a
good sort of a girl in her way. She's a sculptor, I be-
lieve, a pupil of Maurice's. Jack seems to be infatuated
with her, and though — well, well," he added, as thougb
interrupting himself in what he was about to say, '^ it isn't
necessary now to go into all that, since such a great
change has recently taken place in our family afiEairs."

" "What change do you mean ?'^

'^ Why, your coming back to me, of course. Ton
have always, except for a few days, been my favorite
nephew."

'^ Oh, yes ! I'm much obliged."

" Don't forget that draft of the will ; Ridley is wait-
ing for it."

So the conversation had ended, and Hogarth, as he lay
in bed, recalled all the details of it. He did not wish to
go to the dinner, or to resume relations with Jack, or to
make the acquaintance of Miss Henschel, but he saw no
way of avoidance, unless upon the plea of illness, and he
did not believe that that excuse would be accepted, unless
he was obviously too ill to be present. No, there was
no escape for him.

He did not expect any trouble from his uncle during

HOGABTH IS SATISFIED. 419

the dinner. He was sure that, no matter liow determined
the old gentleman might be in the matter of making
him feel nnoomfortable, he had not yet reached the
point of being willing to expose him to strangers. Evi-
dentljy whatever suspicions or facts he had he had thus
far kept in his own bosom. The time for making the
world acquainted with his hypothesis or knowledge might
come, but it had not yet arrived.

He turned over and looked at his watch that lay on
the table by the side of the bed. It was ten o'clock,
so he got up, took his cold bath, as was his habit, and,
dressing himself at once for the street, went down to the
breakfast-room. As he expected, Mr. Oldmixon had not
yet left his bedroom. He ordered a cup of coffee and a
roll, and, having soon disposed of the light repast, left the
house and started to go down- town to Mr. Ridley's office.
The coffee made him feel better than he had felt before get-
ting up, and the cold air of the December morning tended
still further to dissipate the sense of constriction and pain
that he had experienced in his head. He hesitated as to
whether he should take the elevated railway from Forty-
second Street or walk all the way down. Finally, con-
sidering that he was not yet quite himself, and that a walk
of three or four miles would stir his blood and probably
carry off his bad feelings, he decided to use his legs in-
stead of the iagency provided by the Metropolitan Ele-
vated Railway Company. By the time he arrived at his
destination he felt something like his normal self, and
fully equal to a contest of sublety and sharp practice with
even so redoubtable an adversary as he knew Mr. Rid-
ley to be. It was nearly twelve o' clock when he knocked
at the door of the lawyer's anteroom, and, in compli-
ance with an invitation to that effect given by the small

420 KB. OLBMIXOK.

boy that attended to the door, entered, and took a seat till
Mr. Eidlej should be disengaged.

He sat at a desk in one comer of the room, while the
small boy was diligently occupied, in a diagonally opposite
comer, in reading some one of the story-telling weekly,
newspapers published in the city of New York in which
pursuers of literature of his class take special delight.
Hogarth had nothing to read and no other way of occu-
pying the time till Mr. Ridley had gotten rid of his
present visitor than by looking ai'ound him. He had
diligently pursued this occupation for several minutes,
and it was beginning to be monotonous, when, having
completed the survey of the more distant objects in the
room, he turned his attention to those nearer to him, and
first of all to the desk at which he was sitting. Appar-
ently it was one at which Mr. Kidley sometimes sat, for
there were several letters addressed to him lying on it,
and a partly- written one which he had probably been en-
gaged in indicting when interrupted by the visitor now
engaging his attention.

As the reader is already well aware, Hogarth Oldmixon
was altogether devoid of those conscientious scruples that
prevent a man, even though sorely tempted, doing an
unmanly action. The sentiment of honor, if it had ever
had a lodgment in his breast, had vacated the tenement
early in his career, and there had been no other feeling
of a like character to take its place. He was governed
altogether by the most complete and overpowering sel-
fishness, and by no other emotion whatever. He looked
closely at the papers lying on the desk, and at one end
observed a little pile of letters that had probably been
received by that morning's mail, as he noticed that several
of them were still unopened. He glanced furtively at

HOGABTH IS SATISFIED. 421

lie boy and perceived that his head and face were entirely
concealed by the literary production ho was reading.
Then he moved his hand very quietly on the cloth -covered
surface of the desk till it rested on the pile of letters.
He had no distinct object in view in meddling with the
letters, but he did have a faint, shadowy sort of an idea
that by so doing he might effect something to his advan-
tage, but what he could not for the life of him have told.
To separate the letters so as to see the direction on each
was an easy piece of work, and he did it without attracting
the notice of the guardian of the room. They were all
directed to " Theobald Eidley, Esq., Counsellor at Law,''
and in handwritings that he did not recognize, till he
came to the very bottom one of all. Then he started,
for he saw that that bore a superscription that he knew
was written by his uncle.

There was, of course, a good deal of risk to be incurred
if he should determine to purloin that letter in order to
make himself acquainted with its contents, and yet he had
determined, on the very instant, that when he left that
desk the letter should be in his pocket. There was no
difficulty in stealing it. The boy was still intently en-
gaged with his story paper, and all that Hogarth had to
do was to keep his eyes fixed on the absorbed youth
while his hand conveyed the coveted letter from the desk
to the breast-pocket of his coat. Then he got up, walked
several times across the floor, and finally asked the boy
whether he thought Mr. Ridley would soon be disengaged,
receiving an answer to the effect that he — the boy — did
not know. How should he ?

*^ Perhaps," said Hogarth, taking a visiting-card from
his pocketbook, ^'if you were to take this to him, he
might hurry a little. •'

422 MB. 6LDMIXON.

" He told me I wosnH to bring no cards to him,"
answered the boy.

" Oh, he did I Then I suppose the visitor will be with
him a long time."

" I don't know abont that," rejoined the youth, evi-
dently not pleased at being disturbed from his engrossing
occupation of reading of the adventures of a prairie scout
of blood-thirsty proclivities. * ^ Sometimes they stay long,
and then again they don't." As the words were uttered,
the bell from the inner office rang, and the boy quickly
disappeared into the precincts of the apartment that
Hogarth was longing to enter.

He was back again in a moment, and, going to the desk
at which Hogarth had been sitting, picked up the package
of letters lying there, and again went into the rocmi in
which were Mr. Ridley and his visitor.

But his absence was of short duration, for he reappeared
in a couple of minutes, and, with a look of anxiety on his
face, looked carefully through all the papers lying on the
desk.

'^ Mr. Ridley says he hasn't got all the letters that
came this morning," he remarked, as though speaking
to no one in particular. '' I took him in eleven, and he
says there were twelve. I don't see any other, and he
says I've got to find it, or clear out and never show my
face here again. I guess a boy can't find a letter when
there ain't no letter to find."

Hogarth began to feel that it was just possible that he
had committed an act that was calculated to precipitate
the impending catastrophe. He might, by a little skilful
manoeuvring, have restored the letter to its place, or have
let it drop on the floor, and then have pretended to find
it, but he was of the opinion that it was essential for him

HOGARTH IS SATISFIED. 433

to know what his uncle waa, at that time, writing about
to Mr. Ridley, and he knew, or at least thought he did,
that although he might be suspected of having taken the
letter, it would be impossible, unless he were searched,
to connect him with its disappearance.

But while the young man was overturning the papers
on the desk and working himself into a fever of appre-
hension, Mr. Kidley, impatient doubtless at the delay,
came hastily out of his sanctum.

'^ What's the reason — "

But before he could get any further in his angry in-
terrogatory, his eyes lighted on Hogarth, and a marked
change immediately ensued in his countenance and man-
ner. For a moment he stood irresolute, and then, while
his face was flashed and he stammered a little in his
speech, he addressed himself to his visitor.

" 1 did not know that you were here, Mr. Oldmixon,"
he said, " I am very busy with a client, but I'll see you
directly. A letter has been lost, but, fortunately, it's of
no great consequence now*'* (with a decided accent on the
** now "). *^ I don't like to miss things out of my office,
for it gives rise to suspicions that may be unjust. No,' '
he continued, as he turned over every scrap of paper on
the desk, ^^ it certainly is not here. Has anybody else
been in this room ?" he went on, addressing the boy,
whose looks expressed his fears more strongly than any
words could have done.

" No, sir, nobody's been here but that gentleman,"
indicating Hogarth by a nod of his head. " He was sit-
ting at the desk just after he came in — ^"

*' Yes," said Hogarth, speaking for the first time since
Mr. Ridley's appearance, ** I was sitting at the desk, but
I took no notice of anything on it. I saw your boy there

424 KB. OLDKIXOK.

come in and take something from it, but I donH even
know whether it was a bundle of letters or an inkstand."

"Of course not I of course not I How should you?
Well, it isn't, as I said before, a matter of much conse-
quence so far as the letter is concerned. I'll see jou in
a few minutes, Mr. Oldmixon ;' ' so saying, Mr. Eidley
returned to his inner room, and Hogarth felt that a load
was taken from his mind.

But if he had known who the client was that Mr. Bid-
ley was giving so much of his time to, and the natnre of
their conversation when the lawyer rejoined him, he
would not only not have felt relief, but he would have
experienced a decided aggravation of his uncomfortable
sensations, for the person was no other than his uncle,
and the ideas interchanged between the two gentlemen
were not such as would have been reassuring to the
nephew.

** It's all explained," said Mr. Ridley, in a low voice,
after carefully shutting the door behind him. " Who do
you think is outside ¥ '

^'Hogarth, of course," replied Mr. Oldmixon, prompt-
ly, " and he has the letter in his pocket."

'^ Yes, I suppose he has. He was sitting at the desk,
it appears, and doubtless saw it, and, surmising that it con-
cerned him, he has purloined it with a view to reading it
at his leisure. "

'' What is to be done ?"

*^ 1 don't see that we can do anything. His getting
hold of the letter, while giving him no clear idea of your
plans, will make him understand that there is or was apian
of some kind. You are quite sure as to the contents ?"

" Yes, I am certain that all I said was that 1 did not
want any policemen, and that I did want the band."

HOGAETH IS SATISFIED. 426

** Well, I should think he would be Bomewhat thrown
off his guard bj that, and would conclude that you had
given the matter up, if, as you say, you have reason to
believe that he has his suspicions of you.'*

'' It may have that effect. It is well that I got here
before him. He must have walked all the way down.
He's come about the will, but in regard to that you need
no further instructions. Now, I want to get away with-
out being seen by him.'*

*' You can do so by going through that end door. It
opens on the hall near the elevator. As you close the
door behind you I will ring for him."

This was accomplished without any interference with
the arrangement, and Hogarth entered the room at the
ringing of the bell and took the seat that Mr. Bidley
pointed out to him, and that had, not a minute before,
been occupied by liis uncle.

*^I am sorry to have kept you waiting, Mr, Old-
mixon,*' said the lawyer, **but the matter was one of
importance. 1 suppose you have brought me the draft
of the new will that your uncle informs me he intends
making.'*

*^ Yes, he requested me to bring it to you several days
ago, but I have not been very well, and was, therefore,
unable to attend to it till to-day."

As Hogarth spoke he handed the memorandum to Mr.
Ridley, and the latter ran his eye over it rapidly.

"This is very short," he said, laying it on the table
before him and placing a paper weight on it, " and will
require but an hour or two for its engrossing. Did your
uncle say when he wanted to execute it ?"

^^ He told me that he would like to have it as soon as
possible."

** 1 can send it to hira this afternoon, or, if you would

426 VB. OLBinXON.

like to be the medium for conveying to him the paper
that makes yon his heir, I will have it ready for yon by
two o'clock if yon will call here at that honr."

^^ That will snit me very welL It is not yet quite one.
I will amuse myself on the Batteiy till two, and then
stop here on my way np-town. My uncle has a family
dinner-party this evening, and perhaps he would like to
execute the will at that time." Then bidding Mr. Rid-
ley good-morning, Hogarth went out by the same door
through which his uncle had departed.

But instead of going to the Battery, as he had said was
his intention, he stood on the sidewalk, apparently un-
decided what to do with himself. He had his uncle's
letter in his pocket, and he was desirous of seeing Miss
Bangs, and, if possible, of making the acquaintance of die
lady that might, he thought, in the course of events, be
his wife. It was important for him to know how much
she knew of Mr. Oldmixon's intentions, and, if she knew
anything of them, what she purposed doing in regard
thereto. It was not very far to Lake Street, so he con-
cluded that he would go there in a cab, and read his un-
cle's letter on the way. He did not recollect the num-
ber of the house in which the girl lived, but he told the
driver to take him to ^' a bird-stuflEer's, named Bangs, in
Lake Street," not doubting that, as the street was a short
one, the man would find the place. Ko sooner was he
inside the vehicle than he drew down the blinds, and, tak-
ing the stolen letter from his pocket, tore open the en-
velope without hesitation and read as follows :

*' Deab Ridley : I write in haste to countermand the
order for policemen, but I shall want th"fe band.
" Yours truly,

^* ViCTOB CONSTANTINB OlDMIXON."

HOGABTH IS SATISFIED. 427

And this was all.

But what did it mean ? He read it and reread it with-
out being able to form a satisfactory idea of the purport
of this note of less than three lines. Did it refer to him
at all ? And if it did, in what manner ? Evidently,
policemen had been ordered for some purpose, and they
were not now required. Had his uncle contemplated
causing his arrest, and had he subsequently abandoned
the idea ? If it related to him at all, this was probably
what it meant, and so far it was satisfactory. Perhaps
his uncle had failed to get the evidence that he had
thought he should be able to obtain, and had abandoned
his warfare against him. This also struck him as being
plausible, and was, therefore, a still more satisfactory con-
clusion than the other. These two deductions seemed to
him to dispose of the first clause of the letter. Before
going on with the rest of it he suddenly opened the cab-
door and called to the driver :

" Never mind going to Lake Street," he said. "Go
to the Fifth Avenue Hotel.

^^ I shall not l^ve to think of Miss Bangs if he signs
the new will," he said, as he threw himself back in the
vehicle. " It will be time enough to take her up after
to-night. I think I*m pretty safe for to-night. If he
makes fresh war on me, I'll accept the other alternative
before to-morrow morning. JSTow, let us see what the
rest of this means :

** ^ But I shall want the band,' " he read. *' What
kind of a ' band ' will he want ? By George 1 if he were
twenty-five instead of seventy-five I should think he was
going to serenade a lady. Perhaps he is, after all, bent
on some such expedition, or he may intend to have music
for his dinner this evening. A * band ' for * policemen,'

428 MB. OLDMIXON.

however, is a good exchange. I don't see that this con-
cerns me at all, so I think I can safely let it go without
bothering myself abont it. '*

When he drove np to the Fifth Avenue Hotel, he went
into the bar-room and drank a *^ brandy and soda."
Then he returned to Mr. Ridley's office. The clock on
Trinity Church was just striking two as he entered the
elevator. He did not see Mr. Ridley, that gentleman
having gone out, so the boy said, to get his lunch. But
a large envelope unclosed was handed to him, and this,
as he ascertained, contained the will drawn up in due form,
and with the attesting clause expressed in the terms re-
quired by the laws of the State of New Tork.

The morning had been a satisfactory one to him, all
things considered. He had obtained some valuable in-
formation, he had had no unpleasant experience with Mr.
Ridley, and the new will, ready to be executed, was in
his pocket. He took it out of the envelope as he drove
up-town, the blinds of the cab still down, and read it
over very carefully from beginning to end. It was in
exact accordance with the memorandi^m given him by
his uncle, and which he had delivered to Mr. Ridley—
and, as he observed with pleasure, the date was filled in
and it was that very day. Clearly, the will was intended
to be executed before twelve o'clock that night. If his
surmises should be fulfilled and he be made his uncle's
heir, the old man should be a corpse before sunrise to-
morrow.

i

CHAPTER XXIX.

HOGABTH MAKES SEYEBAL DISCOYEBIES.

At five minutes before six Mr. Oldmixon was pacing
the floor of his drawing-room, dressed for dinner, and
waiting to receive his gnests. He appeared to be in a
particnlarl J pleasant frame of mind, for he smiled often,
and rubbed his hands together, as was his habit when feel-
ing pleasantly incUned, and looked at himself admiringly
as he passed and repassed before the large mirror that
was placed over the mantel-piece. At three minutes
before six he went into the dining-room and surveyed
with a critical eye the preparations that had been made
for the dinner, and, if one could judge from the smile on
his face, the arrangement of the table was satisfactory to
him. He had, as was his custom, given great attention to
the setting of the table, and to all those sesthetic acces-
sories that add so much to the enjoyment of a dinner.
He was to occupy the head of the table, Hogarth the
foot, immediately opposite to him, Barbara was to be on
his right, her father on his left, and Jack on Barbara's
right. There was a wide space between Mr. Henschel
and himself, and Mr. Henschel and Hogarth, but this he
could not avoid without inviting another guest, and, as
this was a family dinner, he did not care to introduce a
stranger. He had thought of asking Mr. Brooks, but,
after a full consideration of the subject, he had deter-

430 MB. OLDIOXON.

mined to confine the party to himself and the four per-
sons that he had originallj invited.

Mr. Oldmixon^s domestic service was not extensive, so
he had for this occasion liired two men to officiate in con-
junction with Thomas in the dining-room. They ap-
peared to understand their business well, but they had
probably been more or less tutored by Thomas, who was
an experienced butler, understanding just how wines
were to be served, and all the other details connected with
an elaborate dinner. As r^arded table furniture, there
were few in New York that could equal Mr. Oldmixon
in the elegance and elaborateness of such equipments,
his glass, china, silver, cutlery, linen, being costly and
beautiful — two qualities which, in such things, do not
always go together.

There was to be only one lady at the table, and at her
plate was laid a beautiful corsage bouquet of Jacque-
minot roses, and a little morocco case containing a gold
locket set with large diamonds on one side, and on the
other marked with the letters B. and J., interlaced with
the consummate skill of the engraver into a monogram
that would have defied the abilities of all professional
untiers, even of those who, like Alexander the Great and
the Gordian knot, would have taken to the sword for its
unravelling. For the more this knot should have been cut,
the more difficult would have been its segregation. In-
side, on one face, was engraved the sentence, " To Bar-
bara from her Dncle (in anticipation) Victor," and on the
other a canary-bird, an exact portraiture of the specimen
Barbara had mounted for him, and underneath which
were the words, " By their fruits ye shall know them."

It must be confessed that the distinguished jeweller that
took the order for this locket looked a little surprised at

HOGABTH MAKES SEVERAL PISOOYEBIES. 431

the directions given him, bat from politeness and policy
refrained from saying a word or even offering a sugges-
tion.

Mr. Oldmixon had been at some pains to ascertain
Barbara's floral favorites, and, being told by Jack that
they were Jacqueminot roses and violets, had, in addition
to the bouquet of roses, provided a large five-rayed star
of violets, which occupied the centre of the table with
a point reaching across to each guest's plate.

It was six o'clock. Mr. Oldmixon, at the first stroke of
the old Dutch clock that stood in the hall, repaired to the
drawing-room to be in readiness to receive his guests.
Hogarth was the first to arrive. He knew his uncle's
strictness in regard to punctuality in arriving to a dinner,
and this was a day on which he did not intend to annoy
him in any way. He had often known his uncle, after
waiting ten minutes for a dilatory person to put in an
appearance, order dinner, with the remark that he
wouldn't wait "longer than ten minutes for the a^gel
Gabriel, if he was starving and had to blow his horn at
daybreak ;" and then, to enjoy the confusion and awkward
excuses of the procrastinator, " I made him feel uncom-
fortable at any rate,' ' he would say, " so that we're square
on that score." Hogarth had not seen his uncle since
his return from his visit to Mr. Ridley, and had not yet,
therefore, delivered the draft of the will. He now came
forward, faultlessly iittired, with the document in his hand.

"I went down to Ridley's this morning," he said,
" with the rough draft that you gave me, and he was
kind enough to have it engrossed so that I could present
it to you this evening. But of course you will not care
to bother over it now. Shall I lay it on your desk in the
libkrary ?"

432 MB. OLDMIXOir.

"No, no, my dear boy, give it to me now," exclaimed
Mr. Oldmixon, Iiolding put his band for tbe paper, and
then running his eye over it, while Hogarth stood by,
watching him closely. "It is all right," he continaed,
" and to-night, after dinner, we'll all go into the library
and I'll execute it. Then, my dear boy, I shall be more
than ever attached to yon."

" You are very kind, Uncle Victor, and 1 thank you
sincerely ; but," looking at the clock on the mantel -piece,
" is it not time for Jack and the other guests to put in an
appearance ?"

" Yes, and there they are," as the front-door bell was
heard to ring. " Jenny (Jenny was one of the maids)
will look after Miss Henschel. Now, Hogarth, my boy,
I'm sure I need not ask you again to meet Jack half-
way.' '

" You will have no reason to be dissatisfied with me, I
thmk."

A few minutes afterward the new arrivals entered the
room, Barbara escorted by her father, and Jack bringing
up the rear.

Mr. Oldmixon had probably never in the whole course
of his life been in a condition of greater pleasurable ex-
citement than he was now. He went forward to meet
his guests, and welcomed both Barbara and her father
with as much grace and dignity as he would have done
had they been a king and his daughter. After the first
formal greetings and introductions, he spoke in more
familiar strains, and then, on the appearance of Thomas
with the announcement that dinner was readv, he offered
his arm to Barbara to conduct her to the dining-room.

Jack, on seeing Hogarth standing near his uncle, had
gone toward him, and holding out his hand, said :

HOGAETH MAKES SEVERAL DISCOVERIES. 433

" How are you, Hogarth, old fellow?"

The other took the proffered hand, and muttered a few
words about being "glad to see you,'* or something of
the kind, and then the two had entered into conversation
upon indifferent subjects. All of which was very well.
At such times the less that is said about bygones the
better ; but a disinterested observer would have noticed
that there was an absence of frankness in Hogarth's
manner which all his efforts could not prevent his show-
ing. As to Mr. Oldmixon, he had watched with the most
intense interest the behavior of the two brothers in the
presence of each other.

*' Jack is a whole-souled, generous fellow," he said,
**but the other is a mean, contemptible cad, who hasn't
the magnanimity of a scullion."

Hogarth had been watching his uncle as sharply as his
uncle had been watching him, and he had not failed to
notice the great impression that the new arrivals made
on him. He saw him bow low before Mr. Henschelund
his daughter, and observed with surprise the look of ad-
miration on his face as he spoke a few courteous words to
Barbara — for to his eyes she was not a beautiful woman.
" She has red hair," he said, " and that is enough ; she
must have the temper of the devil I Her figure is good,
eyes fair, mouth and teeth not bad, skin clear and del-
icate, holds herself well, is self-possessed, looks as though
she had been accustomed to this sort of thing all her
life, but probably dines on bacon and cabbage every day ;
is dressed in excellent taste, neither too much nor too Ht-
tle ; but, for all that, her hair is red, and so are her eye-
brows. From all red-haired women the Lord deliver me I
I wonder where Jack picked her up," he continued, as

he brought up the rear of the procession to the dining-
19

434 MB. OLDKIXON.

room. " He's welcome to her, for all I care ; shell tear
his eyes out if he ventures to diflEer with her.''

By this time they had seated themselves at the table,
and the gentlemen were putting their haiUonnieres in
their places. Barbara, who was wearing a bouquet of
violets that Jack had given her, put that of Jacquemi-
not roses at the side of it, and was unrolling her nap-
kin when she perceived the little morocco box that it had
partially concealed. At first she did not appear to un-
derstand why the casket should be there. She looked
inquiringly at Mr. Oldmixon, and then at Jack, but their
faces wore the blankest of expressions, and she saw that
no information was to be obtained from them. Appar-
ently making up her mind that it was there unintention-
ally, or at least that it was not meant for her, she ceased
to regard it, and turning to Mr. Oldmixon, comphmented
him on the beauty of the table decorations.

** I never saw anything more beautiful in the way of
flowers," she said, " than that bed of violets ; and these
roses," looking at the bouquet that she had fastened to
her dress, "are simply lovely."

"I am glad you hke them, for I got them to please
you. Now," he continued, "won't you kindly open that
box by your plate, and tell me if I have succeeded half
so well with its contents as I have with the flowers ?"

Barbara looked a httle surprised, but, at a glance
from Jack, who had a pretty exact idea of his uncle's in-
tention, she opened the case, and, while a blush of pleasure
overspread her face, took the locket, to which a gold chain
of elegant design was attached, out of its resting-place
and held it in her hand admiringly.

"It is a token of affection," said Mr. OldmixoD,
" from your uncle that is to be."

HOGABTH MAKES SSTEBAL PISGOVEBIES. 486

"It is very beautiful," she said, "and I shall always
prize it as a gift from one who has ever been kind to
me."

Mr. Oldmixon was in ecstasies. " Pass it around, my
dear,*' he exclaimed. " Let Jack and Hogarth and your
father see it."

Jack admired it, and thanked his uncle warmly for his
affectionate remembrance of the woman who in a few
weeks would be his wife. Hogarth received it next
as it went on its rounds. ]!7 either of the others had had
time to open it, but Hogarth saw that it was very valua-
ble, and the idea galled him, for he thought that the
money spent for it had, as a matter of fact, been so
much taken from his inheritance.

" It must have cost at least a couple of thousand dol-
lars," he said to himself, "and the old fool gives that
splendid jewel to a girl that probably would have been
just as well pleased with one of plain gold. The idea of
giving diamonds to a woman of her class in life is ridic^
ulous."

He opened it as he thought all this, and read the in-
scription, then he examined the other inside face, and
saw the bird engraved there, and the words around it.
He recognized it as an exact representation, so far as the
engraver could make it such, of the canary-bird of which
his imcle was so careful. A deadly sickness came over
him, and a paleness that could be felt overspread his
countenance. He did not dare- to raise his eyes to those
of his trnde, which he instinctively knew were fixed
upon him with a malicious expression, that all their pos-
sessor's power could not conceal. He could not even
venture to speak lest the tone, or the hoarseness, or the
tremor of his voice should betray him. He could only

436 MR. OLDMIXOK.

stretch out his hand with the locket toward Mr. Henschel^
and hear indistinctly, as though they came from a long
distance off, the remarks made about the locket.

It had gotten back to Barbara, and she was examining
the interior.

" It was very kind of you," she was saying, *^ to put
the canary-bird where I could always have the opportu-
nity of seeing it, and of being reminded of the occasion
that first made us acquainted."

Yes, his worst fears were realized. She was the
*^bird-stuffer" to whom the money was to go, unless
Jack married her, and he was going to inarry her and be-
come the heir himself. There was no doubt now that
he had been made a fool of, and that the will that he had
had drafted and that his uncle now had in his pocket was
intended to assist in a fraud then being perpetrated upon
him. *' Yes," he thought, *^ in all probability the hypo-
critical old scoundrel has originated the whole story
about the Bangs girl with the idea of getting me entrap-
ped into a marriage with her. He has doubtless put the
notion of deceiving me into her head, and if I had gone
to see her to-day I should have found her fully supplied
with a set of well-concocted lies prepared for the direct
purpose of victimizing me. 1 had a narrow escape of it !
But my hour is at hand, and then I shall show him as
little mercy as he has shown me.

*' As to his signing the will he has in his pocket, of
course he will do nothing of the kind ; or, if he does,
there will be a trick of some sort about it that will ren-
der it invalid. 1 see no hope whatever of my being the
heir. It is impossible. He has brought Jack and that
girl here for the sole purpose of declaring him or her
the inheritor of his estate, and at the same time to naor-

HOGARTH MAKES SEVERAL DISCOVERIES. 437

tify me. His death will do me no good except to rid me
of a tormentor. It would onlj put them sooner in pos-
session of the property."

Hogarth was not the man to perpetrate a useless crime ;
he recognized the fact that there was an element of dan-
ger even in smothering his uncle in the dead of night.
He saw how shrewd and apparently prepared for him on
every point the old man was ; how lie had divined his
thoughts, and met him at every turn of his career, since
they two had lived under one roof. It was more than
likely, therefore, that he had become aware of the murder-
ous intentions of his nephew, and that he was so closely
guarded that an attempt against his life would not only
result in failure, but would be apt to be followed by the
immediate arrest of the perpetrator.

He sat through the dinner in a half -dazed state, talk-
ing to no one, and replying in monosyllables and vaguely
to the remarks that were occasionally addressed to him.
He was aware that all present but himself were laughing
and talking as though they were in the height of enjoy-
ment. He heard his uncle, who seemed to be in an al-
most abnormal condition of good-humor and merriment,
explaining several of the dishes to Barbara and descant-
ing on their delicacy and rarity. To him eveiything
was tasteless, but he swallowed great draughts of wine,
and after a tjme the effect was felt in a diminution of his
fears and an increase of his perceptive and intellectual
powers.

He was very confident that his uncle had some scheme
in view in having him meet Jack and Barbara, and he
was well aware of the fact that he should need all his
powers of resistance and of attack in order to maintain
himself in the contest that was impending. He thought

V ♦ » . '■ •

ij

438 MR. OLDMIXOlir.

•

serionslj of getting up from the table without ceremony
or excuse, and walking deliberately ont of the room, never
again to make his appearance in the house, or, indeed, any-
where where he would be liable to meet any one now at the
table ; for he felt quite convinced that he had nothing to
his advantage to expect from his uncle. But even this at-
tempt he all at once became aware would not probably be
successful, for, happening to raise his eyes, he saw one of
the waiters exchanging glances with Mr. 01dmixon,and he
at once formed the idea that both of them were detectives,
and that they would stop him before he could leave the
house.

This idea, once it had found a place in his mind, dis-
turbed him greatly, and caused him to watch the two men,
who were apparently skilled in the business of serving an
elaborate dinner. The face of one of them seemed to be
familiar to him. *' Where had he seen it before ?" he
asked himself. He scanned it closely, but he did not
readily associate it with that of any particular person or
event. But suddenly the idea flashed upon him that it
was that of the cabman who had driven him that morning
when he had started from Mr. Ridley's office to go to see
Miss Bangs, and had, after reading the stolen letter,
changed his destination to the Fifth Avenue Hotel — ^the
same man who had subsequently driven him home. He
had done a good deal to change his countenance. He had
shaven off his beard, or had, perhaps, only removed his
false whiskers. He had made his face look much paler
than it had appeared in the morning, and he had altered
the cut of his hair, but, for all these differences, he was
sure these two men were the same.

Had the fellow seen him reading the purloined letter ?
/'My God," he exclaimed, under his breath, " where is

rf • .

*^

\. 1 .

HOaARTH MAKES SEVERAL DISCOVERIES. 439

the letter ? Did 1 leave it in the cab ? Yes, I laid it on
the seat while 1 lit a cigar, and I never touched it after-
ward. That man took it, and my uncle probably has it
in his pocket at this instant t^'

He knew that he had committed an offence against the
laws of the United States that subjected him to a long
term of imprisonment, and he did not doubt that the two
men were there disguised as waiters for the express pur-
pose, on a single word from his uncle, of arresting him
and taking him to Ludlow Street Jail, there to await his
trial on the charge of stealing and opening a letter not
addressed to him. Still, what could he do ? There was
nothing for him to do but await developments. He was
in the toils of his implacable enemy, and he knew that
when the explosion came there would be no mercy.

He gave some attention to what was being said in the
hope that there might be something let drop by his un-
cle that would give him an inkling of what was to come,
but the old gentlenlan was apparently thinking of very
different affairs than those that occupied Hogarth's mind.
He was telling Barbara of the origin of the Oldmixon
family.

** Yes, we are certainly distinguished," he said, with a
hearty laugh. " 1 think I once told you something about
our origin. The founder of the family was a reprobate
called Nick. He began life by robbing a church when
he was only sixteen years old. For this he was tried,
found guilty, and sentenced to be burned at the stake.
But while he was being conveyed to the place of execution,
he broke loose from the guard, and, after running nearly
a mile with soldiers, monks, and all the rag-tag and bob-
tail of the towu after him, he plunged into the sea and
swam out to a vessel lying at anchor half a mile from the

440 MB. OLDMIXOir.

shore. They were all afraid to follow him, and thus he es-
caped. The vessel was a noted pirate, and, after a short
time, Nick became the captain of the vessel.''

" How lon^ ago was that ?" inquired Barbara, amnsed
as much at Mr. Oldmixon's delight as at the story itself.

" Well, let me see — that mnst have been in the year
989, daring the reign of Ethelred, the last of the English
kings, before the final Danish invasion. Wasn't it.
Jack?"

^' Don't ask me,'* answered Jack, with a laugh, "I
don't pretend to your antiquarian knowledge of the Old-
mixons."

*'But, to goon," resumed Mr. Oldmixon, *^Nick be-
came a great pirate, or viking, as perhaps he was called in
that day, and after he had advanced in years he was of
course called ^ Old Nick.' When he got to be too old to
steal anything more as a pirate, he settled down on an es-
tate that he bought with his plunder and set up as a re-
former. I may, by way of parenth^is, remark that the
hke process goes on in our day very often.

'' But, although he built an abbey and endowed it with
a vast property, he always went by the name of ^ Old
Nick,' and a son that he had was designated ^ Old Nick's
son.' This son killed his father, and was altogether one
of the most diabolical of the family. Being rich, how-
ever, he wasabletobuy immunity from punishment both
in this world and in the world to come. He was at the
same time very pious, and somehow or other became a
mitred abbot. It wouldn't of course do for a mitred ab-
bot to go by the name of * Old Nick's son.' It was too
infernally suggestive of his devilish traits, so he changed
the name to Oldmixon, and by that cognomen we have
been known ever since."

HOGAETH MAKES SEVEBAL DISCOVERIES. 441

Everybody but Hogarth laughed at this apocryphal
narration. He tried to smile, but the effect was a sickly
one, and he gave up the attempt before the angles of his
mouth had begun to expand.

It was impossible at such a small dinner-party as that
for there to be any private conversation. Barbara could
not, therefore, tell Jack what she thought of his brother,
and perhaps she would not have told him had she been
afforded every opportunity for so doing, for she did not
like him. She liked neither his appearance nor his man-
ners. "With a woman's quick intuitions she saw that there
was something preying on his mind— something that en-
grossed his attention to the exclusion of everything else,
and that filled him with a fear that he could not conceal.

The dinner had nearly come to an end, and Mr. Old-
mixon, to Barbara's great satisfaction, had made no at-
tack on Hogarth. Indeed, he had scarcely spoken to him
during the repast, beyond occasionally asking him his
opinion of a dish or a wine, and then always addressing
him as *^ My dear boy,'' or '* My dear Hogarth."

But while the coffee was being handed, Mr. Oldmixon
seemed to awaken to the consciousness of Hogarth's
presence, and to the fact that he had scarcely done his
part toward making the evening pass pleasantly. He
sat right opposite to his uncle, and the latter, as he sipped
his coffee, looked at him with the most pleasant expres-
sion imaginable on his face.

'' What has made you so silent, my dear boy ?" he said.
" One would think, from your lugubrious expression and
melancholic manner, that you were about to be led out to
execution. Let me see," he continued, in a meditative
way, " the last Oldmixon executed was Sir Guy, who, un-
fortunately, took it into his head to poison his wife. He

19»

442 HB. OLBKIXON.

used arsenic for the pnrpose/and of course the chemists
and doctors discovered it, and Sir Guy was hanged in
chains. We know better nowadays. When we want to
kill our wives we don't poison — ^we — we,'' hesitating and
looking smilingly at Hogarth, ^^ we employ some method
not so likely to lead to detection. !Now, if I had a wife
that 1 wanted to get rid of, I'd smo^" He checked him-
self suddenly and said, ^^have her struck by light-
ning.''

" Struck by lightning 1" said Hogarth, who had no-
ticed the break in the word " smother," but who, think-
ing that his uncle had stopped out of consideration for
him, was desirous of keeping him in that vein. " How
could you accomplish that ? Suppose ypu tell us," he add-
ed, with a degree of recklessness that he was sorry for ere
many seconds had passed, " for Jack's benefit. He's the
only one here likely to require the knowledge."

Mr. Oldmixon at these latter words seemed to be upon
the point of losing whatever of self-restraint he had been
exercising during the dinner, and of bursting out into
some passionate speech against Hogarth. His i*ed face
became still redder, his eyes glared, his mouth twitched,
and he seemed to be trying to speak, and yet to be unable
to utter a word. At last, however, he appeared to have
obtained sufficient control of himself to go on with the
conversation, though it had evidently been a hard struggle,
and his voice trembled at first with the effort that he
made to appear calm.

" Jack, my dear Hogarth," he said, " will never need
any method of getting rid of a wife, for you see he is not
an Oldmixon so far as his character and disposition are
concerned. Indeed, in his mental organization he takes
after his mother, who wa6 a veiy excellent and sensible

HOGAETH MAKES SEVEBAL DISC0VEBIE8. 443

woman, altogether too good for the man whose wife she

was."

" Thank yon, Uncle Victor," said Jack, with feeling.
Barbara gave him a look of thankfulness. Hogarth, be-
ginning now to perceive that he had precipitated matters,
looked as black as a thnnder-clond.

" But you, my dear boy," continned Mr. Oldmixon,
*^ thongh yon have no further nse for any wife-ridding
process, may, perhaps, in your future career marry again —
though 1 am free to say that I think that contingency
very remote — and it is therefore just possible that if, only
npon the principle that variety is as well the spice of
death as it is of life, yon may find the procedure I have
in mind not only simple but effectual."

Hogarth laughed long and loudly at this speech, but it
was easy to see that his laughter was forced. He had de-
termined to brave the matter through to the end, and to
force his uncle once and for all to show his cards and
play his game. He began to suspect that, after all, there
was more guessing than knowledge.

" One would think," he said, still laughing, " that you
were accusing me of having gotten rid of my wife by
some easy process. It is well for me that all those that
hear you are friends, otherwise 1 could scarcely hope to
escape suspicion. However, you scarcely intended what
your words seemed to imply. So, by all means tell us
your quick and easy process for getting rid of a wife."

/' Ah, my dear boy, I thought 1 should at last interest
you ; but come," he added, looking around the table, " we
have finished dinner. Let us go into the library, where I
have a little business to transact, and some selections from
my novel to read, and where, if my dear Barbara does not
object, the gentlemen can smoke their cigars. Come 1"

444 KB. OLDHIXOTf.

" I hope yon will excuse me, Uncle Victor,'* said Ho-
garth, thinking that here might be an opportunity for es-
cape, " I am not feeling very well."

"No, 1 cannot excuse you, for the business mainly
concerns you, my dear boy. This paper requires to be
executed," taking, as he spoke, the draft of the will from
his pocket. "You will have to come." He said these
last words very emphatically, and with his eyes fixed on
Hogarth.

Hogarth looked around him. The two detectives of-
ficiating as waiters were not present ; doubtless they were
stationed so as to arrest him, should he attempt to leave
the company. " Very well !" he said, with some des-
peration in his voice, " 1 have no objection. Perhaps I
can stand not only your process, but even your novel."

It was a challenge, and so Mr. Oldmixon regarded it.
" Thanks, my dear boy. • Ton are veiy kind. Come !"
and then, giving his arm to Barbara, he escorted her to
the library, the rest following, and the two strange waiters
— as Hogarth, who looked behind him, ascertained —
watching them from the dining-room, into which they
had entered as the others left it.

" The dinner is over now," said Mr. Oldmixon to Bar-
bara. ' ^ 1 think you will admit that 1 have kept my prom-
ise as well as was possible under the circumstances. But
for God's sake don't interfere with me further !"

She did not know what to think. She was sure a ca-
tastrophe of some kind was impending, and yet she was
powerless to interfere without probably making matters
worse. She looked imploringly at him, but he turned
away his face, unwilling or unable to meet her appeal.

CHAPTEE XXX.

"the bogub's mabch."

^'Now," said Mr. Oldmixon, S^J^Jy after they were
all seated, and the geDtlemen had, with Barbara's per-
mission, lighted their cigars, " first let me tell you how to
get rid of a wife that you are tired of. You may laugh, "
he continued, smiling at the looks of merriment he saw
about him — for even Hogarth was laughing — ^' but it's a
serious matter. It's a process that never fails. You
must have her struck by lightning."

" So you told us just now. Uncle," said Hogarth, *' but
the process must be rather difficult to carry out. You
might, to be sure, invite her to climb one of those tall
poles in the street, and touch the wire, but not many
wives are endowed with sufficient strength and agility to
do that. Your plan would require a previous education
in gymnastics that few women are likely to have. Now,
there, for instance, is Miss Henschel — "

"Now, my dear Hogarth, for Heaven's sake," said
Mr. Oldmixon, with both hands raised in a deprecating
manner, " don't bring Miss Henschel into this discussion.
1 admit once and for all that your experience with wives
is sufficient to give you some idea of their strength and
agility, but my plan requires no such acrobatic feat as
climbing an electric lamp-pole. It is much simpler.

** 1 was once in the city of Merida, in Yucatan," he
went on, having succeeded in silencing Hogarth, " when

446 HB. OLBMIXOK.

the Alcalde, standing in the doorway of his palace talking
to me, saw his wife — an American woman, by the by,
and not disposed to submit to marital restraint— curveting
around the plaza on a wild mustang that she was endeav-
oring to break. He called to her to stop, but she paid
no attention to him, save by smiling defiantly at him, as,
in making the circuit of the plaza, she came repeatedly
near to where we were standing.

" * 1 wish he would throw you,' said her husband.
But he did not, and the lady continued to smile.

" * 1 wish the ground would open and swallow you up 1 '
exclaimed the angry husband, the next time she came
round. Still the lady smiled, and the ground did not
open.

^' Then he wished that the devil and all his demons
would fly away with hen But it is needless to say that
they didn't. Probably they were otherwise engaged, or
maybe he was not sufficiently influential with his Satanic
majesty. Had he been an Oldmixon, now, he could have
raised the devil without much trouble.

'' It was a clear day. The sun was shining in all the
fervid heat and glare of the tropics, and there was not a
cloud as large as a man's hand to be seen anywhere. My
friend, the Alcalde, had not succeeded in arresting the
circus-like performance of his wife, who, with even if
possible greater speed than before, was rushing around
the plaza. On she came like an Amazon, her horse's
mane and tail streaming in the wind, and her whole soul
bent to the excitement of the occasion. As she came
opposite to us, and scarcely twenty feet distant, she turned
and smiled defiantly at her husband.

"*I wish the lightning would strike you dead!' he
ezdalmed, furiously. The words were scarcely out of

"THE BOGUB^S MARCH." 447

his month when there was a blinding flash, a terrific peal,
and the wife lay on the gronnd, while the mnstang swept
like a whirlwind around the plaza, apparently nninjored.
She was dead, and her husband had killed her."

*' It is horrible I" said Barbara, covering her face with
her hands, '' bnt of course it was a mere coincidence."

"1 think not," remarked Mr. Oldmixon, calmly.
" It has succeeded every time, to my knowledge, that it
has been tried."

"But how of ten has it been tried?" inquired Jack,
laughingly.

"Once, only once," answered his uncle, "but then
see what chances there were against its success, and how
can you doubt that the imprecation and the death bore
to each other the relation of cause and effect ? I have
been several times on the point of trying it against people
that disgusted me, but there's always been something to
prevent me. I would have tried it on that fellow that
put currant jelly on canvas-back duck, only 1 didn't
want to make a scene at the club. Besides, it might be
dangerous to others, unless employed out in the open
air, and in a house would probably ruin the furniture.
Then, again, it must be a horrid thing to have a person's
death on your mind. And perhaps, after all, it is only
efficacious against wives."

"Yes," said Jack, "all the conditions must be ob-
served ; in which case the wife would have to be riding
around a plaza on a wild mustang.' '

Hogarth had made no remark at the end of the story,
except an exclamation that sounded something like
"bosh," and that was probably intended to intimate his
belief that the whole recital was a fabrication of his un-
cle's. Whether the story were true or not, Mr. Old-

448 MB. OLDMIXOK.

mixon. did not deign to say. It had served his pur-
pose of introdacing the subject of the killing of wives,
and of showing that Hogarth's nerves were strong
enough, except when his own particular method was
referred to.

*^Now," he continued, after going to his desk and
laying the draft of the new will on the table, *' I pro-
pose to carry out the plan, my dear Hogarth, that we
were talking about this afternoon. Will you kindly
ring the bell ?"

Hogarth did as he was requested, and almost instant-
ly the two waiters made their appearance.

"I want you to witness a document," said Mr. Old-
mixon. ^' This," he continued, ^' is my last will and tes-
tament ; as you see, I sign it," writing his name as he
spoke. "Now, will you kindly sign here?" indicat-
ing with his finger the place where he "wished them
to put their signatures. *' Thanks !" as they affixed
their names ; '' I think that makes the paper complete."
Then, speaking a few words in a low tone to one of the
men, he signified to them that their presence was no
longer required, and they left the room.

''My dear Hogarth," he resumed, ''I trust you may
live long to enjoy the fortune that is here bequeathed to
you. 1 do not expect to cumber the earth much longer,
so that it isn't likely that you will be kept out of the
estate for any considerable period. I suppose you might.
as well keep this, as it concerns you more than it does me or
any one else." With which words he handed the paper to
Hogarth. '' Now, if you please," he continued, '' 1 will
read you a few extracts from my novel ;" and turning to
his desk, he took out of a compartment a manuscript, of
which he at once proceeded to turn over the leaves, ap-

**THE BOaUE^S MABCH." 449

parently with the view of selecting the parts that he
especially desired to bring to the notice of his guests.

Hogarth had taken the will, but, without looking at it,
and without one word of thanks or of anything else to
his uncle, had laid it on the mantel-piece near where he
was sitting. Indeed, as though divining that something
of a serious nature was impending over him, he had be-
come as livid as a ghost, and apparently so overcome with
terror that he shivered as if suflEering from an ague
attack. As to Jack and Barbara, nothing could have
been more unpleasant than their situation, for they also
were quite sure that Mr. Oldmixon had some plan that
he was carrying out as a finality in the matter of his con-
test with Hogarth, and that the denouement^ when it
came, would be of such a character as to render their po-
sition still more embarrassing. Mr. Henschel was ap-
parently unaware that there was any "reading between
the lines" going on. He thought it singular that Mr.
Oldmixon had changed his mind in regard to his will,
for he had supposed that Jack was going to receive the
bulk of the estate, but from the placid manner that his
son-in-law in expectancy took the matter, he supposed
that some compensation had been, in some way or other,
provided, and that the principles of justice had not been
violated.

After some little delay, and after repeatedly looking at
the clock that stood on the desk, Mr. Oldmixon found
the part that he was looking for, and, amid the most
complete silence, began to speak :

"I must premise, "^ he said, "by stating that lam
going to read only a single scene from my book. It is
one, however, that will give you some idea of my style
and powers of description, and I think may be taken as

450 HB. OLBMIXOK.

a sample of the whole book.''* Again looking at the
clock, he read :

*' ' Hugo was a man in whose X)erson were nnited most
of the vices that in general are only met with in many
men. He was, as it were, a microcosm of diabolism, and
to offset his plenitnde of wickedness there was not one
single redeeming virtue. In early life he had shown
the inherent depravity of his character by torturing all
the animals that came in his way and that it was safe
for him to attack, for with all his cruelty he was coward-
ly to such a degree that it often happened that boys and
men weaker than himself thrashed him for some insult or
outrage that he had perpetrated while he, like " the poor
craven bridegroom, said never a word. "

" * It argues little for the existence of that keenness of
perception with which women are said to be endowedj
that a man like Hugo should have been able to win the
affections of a woman the opposite of himself in all men-
tal qualities. But so it was. Certainly he could only
have done so by assuming virtues that he did not possess.
As we shall see hereafter, it was no imusual thing for him
to take upon himself the livery of heaven while diligent-
ly engaged in serving his master the devil.*

That,' ' he contiimed, laying down his manuscript,

will serve as an introduction of the two principal char-
acters of the work ; of course there is a good deal more in
regard to them, but I refrain from reading it now, being
desirous of bringing up at once one of the principal in-
cidents, if not the chief one of the storv.

^' Hugo and Cecilia were married and left soon after
the ceremony on their wedding-tour, and, in the course of
it, they arrived, late one evening, at the little city of
Acropolis. They did not do much sight-seeing that

((
((

"the EOGXnE'S MARCH." 451

night, and the next day the raiu poured down in torrents,
so that they were confined to their rooms in the hotel.
Now we resume the narrative :

'^ * It was not a large room in which Hugo and Cecilia
were spending the afternoon, but it was comfortable, and
fitted up in a manner a little better than that usually
followed in the hotels of country towns. Adjoining it
was the bedroom ; a door communicating between the
two was open.

" ^ He was already beginning to weary of her, and per-
haps she had discovered that he was not the paragon of per-
fection that she had taken him to be. She was sitting
in a low rocking-chair, while he stood with his back to
her, looking out of the window at the rain, as it filled the
gutters and rushed down the steep incline of the street
with almost the force of a mountain torrent. He had
said many bitter things to her that afternoon, and, more-
over, she had detected him m several of the lies that he
had told while wooing her, so that the feeling be-
tween them was very far from being of that kind that
generally exists, at least through the honeymoon. Some-
thing that she said appeared to rouse all the evil passions
that were slumbering in his breast, for suddenly he turned
upon her, and with an expression upon his face that the
arch-fiend of hell might have envied, he seized her — "'

*^ Stop !' * cried Hogarth, rising from the chair on which
he was sitting, and coming into the middle of the room.
** By some means or other, aided, perhaps, by that demon
that you say I am like, you know that I killed my
wife — "

" Ah, you confess it then, murderer !" exclaimed Mr.
Oldmixon, jumping up also, and meeting his nephew half
way, till they stood not three feet apart, confronting each

■•■-.'■■ *^--». A- ^. _. ^j

452 HR. OLDMIXON.

other. " I thought I should torture you into revealing
your crime, and at last my hope is realized."

" Yes ; 1 carried her into the next room, threw her on
the bed, and smothered her to death with a pillow.'*

" My God !" exclaimed Barbara and Jack in a breath,
while Mr. Henschel, looking horror-stricken, could only
mutter a few inarticulate expressions.

"I knew it !" cried Mr. Oldmixon, excitedly. " The
wretch confesses ! He smothered her 1 Oh, double-dyed
villain that you are, why the great God does not strike
you dead as you stand there is a mystery to me 1 Liar,
swindler, murderer, thief !" As he uttered this last word
he threw the purloined letter on the floor before his cow-
ering nephew. '* For some inscrutable reason of His own,
God sees fit to let you live till such time as He shall put
it into your heart to take yourself out of this world ; and
may He do it speedily ! Go I" he continued, while all the
rest of the company were standing horrified at the awful
scene before them. " Go, wretch, basilisk, whose very
look chills the marrow in the bones of honest men. If
by the rising of to-morrow's sun your apology for a soul
inhabits your vile body, the hangman shall separate them. "

Hogarth heard all this with head bowed, and eyes
closed, and trembling in body and limb. Barbara, un-
able longer to endure the agony of the situation, had fallen
upon the sofa, and was being ministered to by Jack and
her father. She was sobbing hysterically, and the two men
were on their knees before her, oblivious now of what
was passing between Hogarth and Mr. Oldmixon, who
still stood, the one with bowed head, the other with
form erect, eyes flashing, lips compressed, breathing
hurriedly, and with one arm extended toward the door.

*' You meant to smother me to-m'ght as you smothered

"the eoque's march."

463

your wife," cried Mr. Oldmixon, still pointing toward
the door. " Will you go ?"

Without a word further, Hogarth moved slowly toward
the door; as he reached it, he raised his head. ''My
God !" he exclaimed, " that face again !" As his hand
rested on the knob, and the door opened to allow him to
pass, Mr. Oldmixon stepped back and touched a little
white button that, fastened to a wire covered with silk,
lay on the desk. Instantly a band of musicians, stationed
somewhere outside, began to play.

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It was the ^^ Rogue's Marcli *' to whicli Hogarth slnnk
out of his uncle's house uninterfered with, according to
their instructions, by those that watched his departure.
He stood on the porch for an instant, and then, hastily
descending the steps, walked rapidly toward the North
River.

The music ceased, and Mr. Oldmixon, overcome by the
excitement and exertion, dropped panting into a chair.
Barbara was better, and Jack, seeing that his uncle was
overpowered by the force of the event that had taken
place, hurried to see if assistance was required. Mr.
Oldmixon held out his hand.

" My dear boy," he gasped, " I'm afraid this has been
a little too much for me. My nitrite of amyl 1" Jack
felt in his uncle's waistcoat pocket, but did not find it.

** I left it in my other waistcoat when I changed my
clothes for dinuer," said Mr. Oldmixon, feebly. Jack
was off in an iustant to get it. *' Barbara, my dear, come
here, kneel here by my side," as she approached him with
streaming eyes and clasped hands. "I'm sorry, dear,
that I had to give you pain, but I could not help it.

"the eogue's maech.'^ 456

"We're a bad lot, my dear, all but Jack. He'll be kind to
you, for he's a good, manly fellow, and — and you'll be — "
speaking with greater difficulty — " very happy. My time
has come. I know it, for things are beginning to look
strange and — and — don't put out the lights !" he ex-
claimed, with more strength. "No, no, never mind ; it
is getting dark to me, that's all. A nice dinner party I
A very nice dinner party ! No one but a lunatic would
have acted as I did. Ah, Jack," as his nephew returned
with the nitrite of amyl and held the vial to his nostrils,
"it's very little use to me now. Hand me that paper
that the basilisk left on the mantel-piece. By George ! I
can see once more ! The amyl did some good, after all.
Open it. Jack. It's only a piece of blank paper. I had
to pretend it was a will, or the fellow would have left
before I got through with him. My poor child," turning
to Barbara, " how I did shock and grieve you ! But I
couldn't help it, dear. It had to be done, and I had to
do it — I had to do it. That band and the * Rogue's March' I
Quitis original 1 Not another man in the world would
have thought of such a thing. The basilisk I What did
I tell you. Jack ? I said the weasel would finish him,
didn't I?"

The last words were spoken in so low a tone that Jack
and Barbara, who were kneeling at the side of the chair,
could scarcely hear them. The nitrite of amyl appeared
to have lost its power, or rather the old man had lost his
power to breathe it into his lungs, and he lay back in the
chair, gasping in quick and short inspirations for the air
that was all around him, but which he was unable to get.
Then suddenly his face flushed as a candle, just before it
dies out, brightens into a little flash of life.

" Give me your hand, dear," he said, in a clear and

466 MB. OLBHIXOir.

distinct voice. ^^ A good girl I a good girl ! There are
not many things in this world better than a good woman.
It's all right about the will. You and Jack — Ridley has
it — Look at me ! I want to see yoar face the last thing
on earth. Pm sorry I did it, but I had to do it — ^band
and all — I had to doit. Ah!" he continued, as, with
his eyes fixed upon the door, he raised himself a little in
the chair, ^^ I see him. The death look is in his face.
Be is going toward the river, and she — she beckons him
on. Camilla I In a few minutes you will be avenged.
His life for yours ! His life jfor yours ! But I shall
not live to see it. No — no," as he sank back, speak-
ing scarcely above a whisper, and in a despairing tone.
" 1 shall not live — quite — ^long — enough — ^" Once more
he turned to Barbara : " My dear, God bless — !" His
eyes closed, his jaw fell, a little twitching of the comers
of the mouth caused an expression that was almost a
smile, and his head fell forward on his breast.

" Oh, Jack !" cried Barbara, throwing herself into his
arms, and sobbing as though her heart would break, ^'he
is dead !"

" Yes, dear, he is dead. God give him peace I"

THE Em).

DR. HAMMOND'S NOVELS.

L A L.

A Novel.

By dr. WILLIAM A. HAMMOND.

SIXTH EDITION NOW BEADT.

SOME OPINIONS OF THE PRESS.

ONE OPINION.

tt

* Lai/ the heroine of Dr. W. A. Hammond^s story (Appleton), is short for
Lalla Rookh. The shortened name carries to the ears an impression which the
book confirms. A more disagreeable book to one who loves art it wonid be hard
to find. The yeneer of philosophy which coyers the cheap material ont of which
the book is constructed only makes the novel more objectionable. Every canon
of good taste is violated, and one has not even a piece of rongh humanity to fall
back upon. The book is a piece of artistic folsehood."— J UanUc MorUfUy.

OTHER AND DIFFERENT OPINIONS.

*' The unfolding of the character and conscience, the taste and intelligence, of
this fh>ntier wild flower, the brutal ordeals to which she is subjected, and from
which she extricates herself unharmed by her own pluck and energy, the blos-
soming of her love for the hero of the tale, and the discovery that she was not
the child of the ruffian Bosler, but had been stolen by him in infitncy firom parents
of great refinement and intelligence, are woven into a romance of genuine but
unequal power, and in which, besides this growth of a soul and birth of love, are
also depicted some dramatic scenes of far Western life, illustrative of its lawless-
ness and sense of honor, its flerceness and gentleness, its strange commingling
of vices and virtues, its hospitality, generosity, and quick recognition of physical
or intellectual excellence.'*— ^aT^er'^ New MonUdy Magazine.

LOTKEQ

DR. HAMMOND'S NOVELS

^

** The wildnets of the monntainB, the startling depravities of the miniog-camp,
the savage cmelty of man, the terror of private vengeance— it is with themes like
these that Dr. Hammond mingles the tend^ness of women^s hearts, the heroism
of personal courage and chivalrous devotion to daty, and the eccentricities of
genios devoted to high intellectnal and social ends/^— Xi/«rary World (Boston).

" The comprehension of the trials and temptations of Western roughs, of their
Bingalar intellectual ahllity when it comes to circumventing each other, of their
remarkable codes of honor, and the way in which they deceive their own con*
sciences, as well as their friends aod enemies, betrays a remarkable knowledge
of human nature. We have here aU the good points we have been taught to
associate with this roughest sort of life."— CW^ (New York).

** It possesses the great merit of being interesting from beginning to end.
The characters are striking, and several of them have an element of originality;
the incidents are abundant and effective ; the situations are well devised, and, if
there is not much intricacy in the plot, there is a certain bustle and rapidity of
movement which answers instead of more complicated machinery. Here, it will
be seen, are some of the most important qualities of a good story ; and we risk
nothing in predicting for * Lai * a notable success."— i\r«r York Tribune,

" Dr. William A. Hammond's * Lai *. is at once an enjoyment and a surprise
—though why an eminent physician, and one of broad culture and literary attain-
ments, should not write a vigorous and successful novel if he sets his band and
mind to it is more than we can say, except that many have been called but few
shown themselves chosen. The wild surroundings of mountain and mining life
in the West are boldly gathered about Dr. Hammond's heroine, and the Polish
patriot, representing the refining influences of European civilization, is brought
into fine relief in his isolation amid such savage scenery and semi-savage exist-
ence.^''— Independent.

" The scenes in ' Lai ' suo;gest the scenes in Bret Harte's stories. Dr. Ham-
mond has journeyed through the country where Harte found his rough-diamond
heroes. He has done more than journey through it ; he has lived in it, suffered
its hardships, studied its characters, and acquainted himself with all its pict-
uresque oddities. He writes, therefore, Trom. his own point of view, and it is
quite true that his point of view is his own. His method is in no sense imita-
tive. Dr. Hammond is too aggressive and too brilliantly able to be an imitator,
even when he is- treading on the ground of another. *Lar is a vigorous, well-
written, stimulating work."— Geoegb EdqabIIontqomebt, in New York World,

12mo, cloth. Price, $1.80.
New York : D. APPLETON & CO., 1, 3, & 5 Bond Street.

DR. HAMMOND'S NOVELS.

DR. GRATTAN.

A NoveL

By dr. WILLIAM A. HAMMOND.

rOUBTU EDITION NOW B£ADT.

SOME OPINIONS OF THE PRESS.

ONE OPINION.

" *Dr. Grattan,' by William A. Hammond, a novel in which a noisy
style, cheap learning, and physiological jugglery combine to swamp the
story and leave the reader in doubt whether ho has brought enough away
to warrant the trouble he was forced to take to get the treasure."— ^^ton^
MoTiihly,

SOME OTHER AND DIFFERENT OPINIONS.

" And it is not pleasant, in such a generally fair and helpful review as
that of ' Books of the Month ' (' Atlantic Monthly *), to stumble on such an
unfair and misleading judgment as is given of Dr. Hammond's last novel."
— Literary World (Boston).

** Dr. Hammond is earning a conspicuous place among our American
novelists, as well by the rapidity with which he writes as by the ability
with which he portrays anomalous mental states and conditions. His new
novel, * Doctor Grattan,' ministers to the curiosity and entertainment of the
reader, while putting him in possession of some highly interesting informa'
tion derived from the author's professional experience. Its scene is laid at
the foot of the Adirondacks, fine descriptions of which, and of the forest
and village life in and around them, are given in the course of the narra-
tive. As the story unfolds, close and very charming glimpses are ^ven of
the household life and the irank and loving comradeship of Doctor Grattan
and his energetic and beautiful daughter, who soon become prominent act-
ors in the drama, but toward whom we are drawn with a feeling of cordial
interest even before we are invited to witness the incidents and companion-
ships that later on introduced new influences into their secluded lives, and
invested them with a glamour of mystery and romance. The story em-
bodies two cleverly developed love stories, which are told with great
stndghtforwardness and refreshing freedom from, tantalizing oventualities.V
— Harper's MontTily,

4 DR. HAMMOND'S NOVELS.

** Dr. HAmmond constructs the plot of this story with the skill and ap-
parent ease of the veteran novelist. He deals mainly in improbabilities,
but he manages to give to these the semblance of reality by the minutely
circumstantial manner in which the story is related. His coolness and ac-
curacy of statement overcome all doubt as to the fact he is giving. We
have the exact hour and minute of an occurrence, as if the good doctor were
standing by with his watch in his hand. Particulars are ^ven us even
where a general statement would have been all that we could reasonably
have asked for. This impresses the mind of the reader with a sense of the
author's accurate knowledge and unswerving allegiance to the truth. . . .
The book is written in a style clear, vigorous, and direct. The language
is free from technicalities which, from the nature of the case, might have
been looked for. Evidently the author ^ms to secure readers, and he does
not hesitate to employ legitimate means to that end. He shows such care
as respect for his readers requires, and only that. He is cramped by no
pettiness or squeamishness. He succeeds as well in the telling of his story
as in the contrivance of its plot." — Boston Evening Transcript

"* Doctor Grattan' is really a capital book. It is a novel with the
scene laid in America, yet not an * American novel * as we know that prod-
uct, for which Mr. Hammond (like the hero of * The Witch's Head') ex-
presses his open contempt. The interest of the story lies in the question
as to whether Mr. Lamar, the father of the heroine, has been a slave-dealer
for many years of his life, or whether he has merely brooded on the subject
till he has imagined that he has dealt in human merchandise. The prob-
lem is most cleverly worked out, and it would be unfair to Mr. Hammond
to disclose the solution. Doctor Grattan himself is a pleasant, practical
man, who makes an excellent and original hero. But Mr. Hammond must
be congratulated on his ^omGn.^— Saturday Eeview (London).

12mo, cloth. Price, $1.80.

New York : D. APPLETON & CO., 1, 8, & 6 Bond Street.

• II — — .

D. ApPLETON & Co. WILL PUBLISH EARLY IN THE AUTUMN

A STRONG-MINDED WOMAN ; or, TWO YEARS AFTER.

A Sequel to " Lai."
By William A. Hammond, M. D.,

AUTHOR OF "lAL," " DOCTOR GRATTAN," " MR. OLDMIXON," ETC.

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DATE DUE 1

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