Beadle's Half Dime Library No. 517 — page 8: what you’re looking at

Machine-transcribed from the original scan — historical spelling and the odd misread are preserved.

‘‘ He'll see a poor devil through, if it is possi- ble,” he reflected. e had an odd feeling tbat he himself might have to rely upon Mr, Midge. Accomparying this = strong dislike toward the was now presented. ‘‘Misther Isaac Salomans,” said the judge. ‘‘T’'m free to say I’ve seen many a worse fellow than the same. Whin he dhrinks wid yez, d’ye moind, he don’t foo! wid his liquor, but puts it down wid a swing that ’u’d do honor to Tipper- ary—be me sowl, “it would!” The judge could give no higher praise than this. It ain ’t natural that the two should cotton together,” reflected Harry, with a strange sink- ing at his heart. ‘That fellow isa knave; and he has been worming his way into the judge’ s favor for no good. But Marshal Gladden was already reforming the broken ranks of his men. The musicians and ax-bearers preceded, while the hook and ladder men marched on either side of the coach, and those carrying fire-buckets brought up the rear. Thus was the judge in his first circuit ushered into Paddy’s Flat, amid the wildest cheers. Of course he was ‘dined and wined” at the Golden Gate Hotel, to which the Terpsichorean Hall was an adjunct: and equally of course he ‘“went down the middle” with the belle of the ball, and chucked her under the chin, and called her “a foine gerrul!” But that was later in the evening. Immediately after such a dinner as would have made the proverbial alderman loosen his waistband, he was taken out to look about the place and. especially to visit the *‘ calaboose,” Paddy’s Flat was as proud of its new jail, as if it had been a free-stone town-hall. The fire department had dispersed, leaving the guests to be escorted by the marshal’s posse. Jim Gladden walked between Judge Owney Maglochlin and Colonel Blood; while his deputy escorted in the same manner Milton Midge, Esq., and Mr. Isaac Salomans; the posse fetch- ing up the rear. Never had Harry felt his importance more. He was to march by the house of his inamorata in this grand state. Old Abrabam stood in his doorway, smiling and rubbing his hands, proud of Harry’s dis- tinction. Just as the procession passed bim, while he was bowing and eri nping at Harry in token of his ap radiation, e suddenly started with a gasp, threw up his hands, and turning ghastly pale, reeled, so that he fell against the door- ost. At the same time Mr. Isaac Salomans, who was on the other side of Harry, leaned forwar d, and fixed his eyes on the ol man with a smile of ruthless triumph. ‘*Rebecca! Rebecca!” gasped the old mer- chant. And fumbl'ng blindly, he staggered through the door into his store. In his agony of fear, he fairly dragged her to the doorway, and pointed through it. Mr. Isaac Salomans looked at the old lady with the same expression that he had given her husband. She seemed turned to stone. Then, in wild panic, Abram sprung forward, slammed the store door, and locked it. Harry, with a face as white as his shirt— and he had donned a ‘‘ b’iled” one in honor of the occasion—stared at Mr. Salomans, That gentleman looked directly into his face, with a smile and a bow. Now the boy saw in that mocking face what had haunted him. ‘‘ He isa relative of hers! Her—her—’’ But the words died in his heart. ‘* Well?” queried Mr, Salomans. Harry bit his lip, but walked on in silence. ‘He ain't of the common sort,” reflected Salomans. ‘‘He means mischief. He has it in him. I can see that. Ill have to watch him. And he’s deputy marshal of this little mud-hole!” They went on to.the jail, where Judge Owney Maglochlin shook hands with the pris- oners and s apped them on the back, saying: ‘* Faith, it’s foine lads ye are! Ye’ll “hang aisy, me b’y!” “ Tt’s mesilf that ’u’d rather die of owld age, av it’s all the same til yer honor!” replied an Irishman, with a tug at his forelock and a scrape of his foot. Sure, judge, dear, ye’ll slape aisier wid the thoughts o’ l’avin’ a poor devil loike me time fur repintance,” ** Be aisy!” enjoined the judge. ‘‘ Sleep, is it? was a wave of ark stranger, who s pe . - - 9 V> Saw 5 aay 7 era 4 a +; Pe ee (RN gg Se PEED ENTER 3 ta eT Ee “ © tee ined A J IPRS Ang oN bes ‘oy, oS * ane ae ~e inks im 1 Gladden’ S Gacdit haks LOR CRS SRB ns Be me sow], I'd b’lave I rest betther av I didn’t sleap so soundly.” a rah, man dear! it’s not the bhaird heart ye have.” But another prisoner—a ie te who had re- cently undertaken to ‘paint the town red,” with the not unusual result of getting a citizen ‘‘ready for the spring planting”—was not so chicken-hearted. ‘‘ Ef this hyar sweet burg hain’t got the sand to furnish a new rope—which the same Eagle’s Roost sent my pard up the flume with a dirty piece o’ hemp that the devil wouldn’t have in his back yard fur a clothesline—then all I ask is that ye carry me over the ridge, so’s to plant me out o’ sight of it!” ‘*Don’t ye worry about that!” suggested the judge. ‘It’s not hemp we’re wantin’. \ fond the ceremony of inspecting the jail was over, and the judge had been escorted back to the Terpsichorean Hall, Harry took the first op- portunity to escape from his ¢ uty as an Officer of the camp. He almost ran to old Abraham’s. It was with difficulty he gained admittance, He was cross-examined as to his identity through the door, and then inspected through a closely- curtained’ window, before he was al- lowed to enter. Once inside, he saw that old Rebecca sat with her a:ron thrown over her head, rocking her body to and fro, and moaning in distr ess, while Miriam stood white and trembling, her eyes round with terror. At sight of him she pressed her hands upon her bosom, with a gasping sigh; but her face was irradiated. Her eyes told him that she felt safe, now that he was come. But old Abraham threw his arms about the boy’s neck, and fell upon his breast, weeping. ‘Ve are lost! lost! lost! Ach, mine Go t in himmel! vat has come upon us now!” CHAPTER XI. PLANNING FLIGHT. ‘‘ WHAT is the matter? Who is this man that you all seem to fear so?” asked our hero. But old Abraham only tore at his beard, after the traditions of his people, abandoning himself to utter despair. In vain did Harry assure him that he—not powerless as deputy marshal of the camp— would stand by his friends. ; ‘‘ Who is it, Miriam?” he asked, going up to er. She shrunk trembling from his approach—not in fear of him, but with maiden coyness. Her modest eyelids hid the tenderness that glowed in her eyes. ‘‘Kind shentleman, I do not know,” she re- plied. ‘‘ It is a bitter enemy of my dear mamma and papa. Ah, sure, they could harm no one. ‘‘Miriam! Miriam! dis is not for you!” cried old Abraham, so excited that he seemed angry. ‘Go to your room!” Then seeing, by her look of amazement, that for the first time in his life he had spoken roughly to her, he threw his arms about her, and burst into tears and sobs, ‘*Ah! my child, my dear child!” he cried kissing her cold cheek, ‘have I effer gifen you anyt’?ing but love? Go, go, my dear; dis is not for you. I vill safe you if I can, Go, go!” She clung to him a moment, calling him en- dearing epithets, and assuring ‘him tbhut she did not doubt his love. ‘*Buttrust in de kint shentleman. He will safe us!” she whispered. As she said this, she tightened her clasp about the old man’s neck, and kissed him on the ear into which she thus breathed the secret of her inmost heart. Then, with her cheeks aflame, and not daring so much as a single glance at him whom she had really caressed by proxy, she ran up the stair- wav, to her room. “ What is this mystery?” demanded the boy. ‘Ah, my frient!” sighed old Abraham, ‘ I vill let you into de secret of my life. He is her father!” ‘** Her father!—Miriam’s father?” ‘Not so loud!—not so loud! Vould you be- tray me to her?” and in wild panic the old man fairly covered Harry’s mouth with his hand. ‘But Ido not understand you. Her father; and she does not know it?” 7 fs You judge me, You think I have wronged er,’ ‘“Wronged her!” cried Harry, flaming with indignation. ‘She calls you father. She gives you the love and duty of a daughter. How dare you perpetrate such a fraud upon her?” , = ° ¥ ‘ - (- { | ‘Yes, yes!” assented Abraham, at | «es. yen Slee ** But,” he added, with a mournful dignity that Harry could not but be impressed by, ‘‘ I have given her a love she would never have known from her real parent. Besides, dere is de tie of blood between us. She is my ’ granddaughter. ed ‘*‘ Why have you represented the relation dif- ferently to her?’ ‘*'To spare her pain. When she asked for her father, could I tell her: He is a scoundrel; you shall not think of him?” ‘* What has he done?” ‘** Done?” cried the old man, drawing himself up with clinched hands and dilating nostrils. ‘* What bas he left undone? You see me in hid- ing from him—here in a strange land, far from my kindred, away from every fr ient. Do you think dot I come here for monish? Ah, yes! they say a Jew vould sell his soul for gold! ” ever had Harry heard anything so bitter as the tone in which the old Hebrew repeated this Christian slander against his race. ‘‘There are good Christians and bad Chris- tians; but all Jews must be cheats and misers!” “But I do not feel so!” protested Harry, his thought going out to Miriam in generous indig- nation. For the moment he believed that he had never shared in this contemptuous opinion, ‘* What has he done?” resumed old Abraham, ‘* He killed her mother.” ‘* Killed her mother!” ‘* Mit a knife?—mit a pistol?—mit a bludgeon? Oh, no! He did not so much as strike her, I think. The law would find not?in ing to con- demn. But he broke her heart; he tortured her into the grave. ‘* Look! look!” cried the old man, his passion- ate recollection of the past bearing him out of himself, until he bad something of the grandeur of manhood never otherwise manifested, save in his tenderness for his grandchild. “You have seen what a flower she is—bow she lived but upon the sunshine of love. To her it is meat, drink, warmth, brightness, her very existence! Well, such as she, was her mother. He came. He possessed her. She withered, like a flower in the scorching sun. Dying, she gave her child into my arms, adjuring me to stand between it and the misery that had blighted her life.” By this time Harry was fully in sympathy with the passionate old man, ‘* He shall not touch her!” he said, through his set teeth. ‘The law vill gif her to him!” said the old Jew, dejectedly. “Law or no law, he shall not touch her!” reiterated our hero. ‘I will kill him first!” He meant that. He was ready to fight to the death for her. Old Abraham shook his head. ‘* Dot vill not do. You donot know. Delaw is not de vorst ve kaf to fear,” ‘* What then?” ‘** Miriam.” ‘* Miriam?” ** Miriam!” ‘* But what have we to fear from her?” ‘*She vill go to him.” ‘¢'That monster?” ‘* Her father.” ‘* But the murderer of ber mother!” ‘*Can you tell her dot?” f “Why not? Anything to save her, You should Milve been frank with her from the first. There could have been no need of deceiving her.” ‘* You don’t know her. She isan Israelite!” As he spoke, old Abraham drew himself up are a look of haughty scorn tbat transfigured im It was plain that he was contrasting bis own race with the race that had heaped so much contumely upon them. ‘* Honor thy father and thy mother!” he went on. ‘* We teach our children dot. He vill say— Come! She vill go!” * But this is monstrous!” cried Harry, his heart in his throat. Was it possible that she might carry filial dutv even tothe point of making it second to the love for him which he believed he had read in her eyes? He thougbt of the day when she had kissed him. It had not been repeated since then. She seemed so sacred in her vestal innocence, that he had not dared to venture again on such a familiarity. Yet, whenever he chose, memory could revive the ecstasy of that moment, and he could feel again the velvety pressure of her warm lips upon his. “There is but one way, ” said old Abraham, ‘‘ She must not know.” ‘But he will claim her. He will tell ber all.” ** He must not have the chance, Ta =. \ > SX. me % *. icbooks. com -