Beadle's Dime Library, Vol. III, No. 29 — page 10: what you’re looking at

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—— Nc sg sss 2 ee Hee 10 Happiest of all that gay throng was May Powell. her side, she forgot their surround- felt a delicious thrill of pleasure in With Cecil at ings, and only listening to the tones of his voice. Through the shadowy vistas they as if in benediction. Through a break in the foliage, Cecil caught sight of a boat passing near. ‘*Hallo! Corville,”’ he called to the rower; “‘aren't you going to give usa chance?” # shat Come down to the landing,” was reply, and the boat’s head was turned the cheerfu toward the flag-decked pier. ** Hallo, Corville; just in time,’ said Fred Powell, as the boat ran alongside the landing, and the youn man leaped out. “Come, Miss trlo, jump in, an we'll catch those runaways before they get half across the pond.” “| beg your appearing on the seene; “but I believe that Mr. orville yields the boat to Miss Powell and myself." Fred turned toward Cecil and looked at him from head to foot, with a contemptuous flash in his ore then drawing the boat close up to the wharf, said: ‘‘ First come, first served. That would seem to be fair. Come Miss Goldthorp, we are losing time.”’ It was evident that he had been drinking more wine than was good for him, He had reached that ao where the discipline and breeding of the gen- leman are lost in the stubborn self-will of the man. He had had a race to the landing with a previous party, who had forestalled him in getting a boat. fe would not now be thwarted again, and by a man whom he so cordially disliked. So, throwing aside all questions of right and courtesy, he ex- tended his hand to help Florence into the skiff. Mr. Corville now interposed. ‘* Perhaps I ought to say that Mr. Beaumont spoke to me and engaged the boat. It was to give it up to him that I brought it in.” “Mr. Corville, are you through with the boat?” asked Fred, turning upon him. **Certainly.”’ ‘* Well, that seems to end the matter. You brought it in, and I was the first to take it. We acknowledge no privileged class here. Miss Goldthorp, will you allow me to assist you in?” **Perhaps we had better yield—” began Florence, **Do you refuse to goy’’ demanded her escort, hot- y. “Mr. Powell,” said Cecil, “it seems to me that the right of this matter is quite apparent to any one who is willing to consider it fairly. Mr, Corville had »0ssession of the boat, and at a meqnes brought tt in out of compliment to Miss Powell. Of course your being in waiting for a boat could not affect Mr, Corville’s right to transfer the One in his possession to any one he pleased.” **T do not care to discuss the matter with you, Mr. Beaumont. Ihave the boat by right of precedence; and that is enough for me.” “‘T am afraid I shall have to maintain the rights of the lady to whom the boat was yielded,’’ said Cecil, with quiet determination; but there was a slumbrous fire in his eve, as he laid his hand on the painter. “Take your hand off from there, or [ll knock you into the water!’ fulminated Fred, bursting with rage. A crimson wave of anger surged up into Cecil's face and then receded, leaving it pale and with deep- ly-marked lines about the mouth. There was a steely glitter in his eyes, and a rigid tension of all the muscles of his frame, that would have marked him as a dangerous man to one less observing than Fred Powell; but the latter, too, was an athlete in build and training, and feared no man. May Powell been standing with flashing eyes and an indignant flush in her cheeks. She now stepped between the combatants and her brother. * Wred Powell,” she said, “ you are ungentlemanly. This is an outrage. Even i@ we had not the indispu- table right to the skiff, you have conducted yourself from the first like a boor. Apologize to Mr, Beau- mont, instantly!” There was something of the ludicrous in the com- manding tone which this little woman took with her brother, and some of the auditors smiled. It nettled Fred more than ever. ** Sis,”’ he cried, “ will you please tokeep your oar out of these troubled waters? Of course I will com- ly with your very reasonable demand, at some fu- ure day, when I have nothing better on hand.” She turned her back on him. “‘Mr. Beaumont,”’ she said, “ you at least, have the gentlemanly courtesy to terminate this shameful scene, even at the sacrifice of our rights?” “Miss Powell,” he replied, calmly, though his whole frame was aquiver with suppressed emotion “T hold myself subject to your commands. Will you accept my arm? She took it with a grateful look that would have rew him foreverything, bad he t loved her; but he saw Florence Goldthorp draw aside her skirts and stand coldly to let them pass, and in his heart that look awoke the fires of hell. Carrying his point brought no satisfaction to Fred Powell. He felt that he had lowered himself in the estimation of all about him; while in gy the field, Cecil had gained the victory. Siren to Flor- ence, when she had time for reflection, he must ap- pear at a disadvantage. ‘** Beaumont, have our boat,” called out a cheerful voice. A skiff grazed the pier; Charley Brewster leaped out, assisted his lady from the boat, and turning May Powell, with a bow, said: : a 7 Powell, will you oblige me by taking our ace?’’ . May rewarded him with a smile that sent a glow to his heart, such as it had never i ime before or an smile that lived in his memory many a week after. Cecil saw his opportunity, and, thanking Brewster assisted May inte: tho stern-sheets, lea aboard an pushed off, outwardly as undistur as if nothing unusual had happened. A momentary hesitation on the part of Florence, about accepting what was obviously yielded from considerations of expediency, not conceded asa right, caused a delay which made haste to improve, by being the first to embark. Fred saw the smile of atification on the faces of those who had espoused e, more bit- He helped Flor- ence in; and then his choler found vent in the play of his muscles, as he sent the light skiff spinning passed, arm in arm, over the velvet turf and beneath the great oaks that stretched their giant arms above them, ardon, Mr. Powell,’’ said Cecil, now Beadle’s Dime Library. ecil’s side, and ground his teeth in r ter than ever against his opponent. through the water. As for Cecil, beneath his unruffled exterior a tor- nado of passion was raging. He was a man who never forgave an insult; and now was added the sting of coldness from the woman he loved. She had gone over to I’red’s side, right orewrong, and with her eyes on the ground in cold contempt, drew aside her skirts to let. Cecil pass. In vain did May strive to be cheerful, Though he emabes and chatted with apparent ease, her woman’s instinct told her that his thoughts were not upon her, nor on the conversation in hand. A feeling of depression gradually stole ‘over her; and when in the evening he was about to leave her at home, she threw herself upon his breast, in a sud- den flood of tears. “Why, May, what is the matter?’ he asked, sup- porting her in his arms. **Oh, Cecil!” she cried, in the quavering voice of a grieved child, *‘do you love me—really and truly? I sometimes feel that you do, and then—oh, I am so happy! But there will creep in such a chilling doubt, it seems as if my heart would freeze. I can’t help it. I could die with wretchedness. Oh, tell me that you love me!” ‘*May! May!” he expostulated, soothing her with his hand. ‘‘ You are not yourself. How can you doubt me? Have you not had an evidence of my love this very day? I never before in 4 life passed over an insult without resentment; but I remember- ed that he was your brother.” “Cecil, did you do it for my sake?” she cried, her face irradiated with ineffable happiness. And with her arms about his neck and her soft cheek against his, she went on: “Oh, my darling! you do love me —you do love me!" Cecil Beaumont was not wholly bad; and as he felt this gentle creature nestle closer and closer in his arms, trembling in every limb with excess of happi- ness, and thought of the great wrong he was doing her, the hideousness of his duplicity arose before him, and something akin to remorse crept into his heart. If he could only get away from the evil that surrounded him, and go with her to some unin- habited corner of the earth, he felt that he could reward her love with something like a return. But then there ap before him a scornful face, averted look an ents drawn disdainfull aside; and with a t leap of his heart, that al- most found expression in a fierce cry, he set his teeth hard and returned to his purpose, all the more re- lentlessly because of this one moment of crema ae 4 **OCurse him! curse him!”’’ he hissed, between his clenched teeth, when he was alone in the darkness of the street, ‘I'll sink him to the veriest depths, and then I'll have his blood!—ay, his blood! Money! what is money in the balance with a tortured heart? No! henceforth I live for revenge. If I ever had a scruple, on his account, this nig! tI bury it. His ar- rogance has sealed his doom; his folly shall supply the means of its accomplishment.” CHAPTER VI. THE EVE OF A CRISIS, Wiru the a gp shades of night, ghoul-like clouds had begun to c each other across the sky, and fitful gusts of wind, with the chill of the grave in them, scudded along the streets and sighed dis- mally among the tree-tops, while about the horizon hovered ominous lightnings, like the impotent men- ace of chained demons. Amid such a scene stood Cecil Beaumont, and bowing in his hands a face clammy with a -rung sweat, moaned: **Oh, Florence! Florence! I could die for you, yet Ishall blast your life by destroying him in whom your heart is bound up! Do you love him as I love you? If you do, then God help you!” In the streets, with fellow-creatures thronging on every side, yet as much alone as if he were in a des- ert, Cecil Beaumont sought relief from the anguish that was consuming him. While he was walking grt a& paper was thrust into his hand. He turn suddenly, but no one seemed near enough to have reached him. A second time Shadow Jim had baffled him, and now stood within four feet of him unsuspected. ht in a deserted street he read the mis- tran: “Everything is in readiness. Be at your post.” With a quick-throbbing heart, Cecil walked rapidly to the bank. Now the die wasto be cast. What would turn uppermosty Who could tell? Success, freedom, revenge, on one side; failure, infamy, a prison, and perhaps the getons. on the other! Cecil found Dawson, the janitor, already at the bank; for it was after ten o’clock. He had made his bed as usual by oe back the lounge, but sat the newspaper before retiring. “Don’t let me keep you up, when you get ready to go to bed, Dawson,” said the cashier. “I've been on a lark, and those t dance must pay the fiddler, you know. It will be midnight before I can think of sleep.” He <-l soon busily eng at his desk; and pres- ently the old man re and his heavy snoring indicated the pero ageme f © fhis shiumber. Cecil worked away with a will. In the morning he to show for his two hours’ “3 struck twelve, he purpoenly closed with a slam the ledger in which he was _writ- Ee eee canight aed poipekaaneyen” <4 d, é sat up and ru eyes. “You're at work late, Mr. Beaumont,” said the janitor, with a glance at the clock. ; “Yes; but I am just through; I guess I won't go home to-night, but stay at the bank. the way, won't you have a little wine with me? I’m fee fa out, and it won't do you any harm, either, your age.” “ Thankee, Mr. Beaumont,” replied the janitor, his mouth Deatent to water; for it was not the first time he had a sip of wine with the cashier on similar occasions, and he knew that a rare treat awaited him. ‘As a man grows old, he do need a little something now and then to strengthen him.” Cecil passed into the next room, and soon reap- peared with decanter and glasses. He filled a glass must have somet work. When the cl ee — a siesta “ ees for himself, and then pushed the decanter across the desk to Dawson. They chatted awhile over their wine; and then Cecil ed into his own room, the janitor returned to his , and only his snoring broke the stillness. Meanwhile, Fred Powell was again in the clutches of Billy Saunderson, the “ decoy duck.” Having al- ready drank too much wine at the picnic, he fell an easy pres to the designs of his pretended friend. Charley Brewster expostulated in vain. “Come, Fred,” he said, ‘it’s only the ‘part of a friend to tell you eg he, have drank too much, You ought to go home. You know that I warned you the last time.”’ “ Look-a-here, Mammy Brewster, take me under wing, too, do,” sneered Billy Saunderson. “ Now, unlike Fred here, I know I’ve been a naughty boy, and ought to be tucked in my little trundle-bed. Don’t throw away your solicitude on this thankless a ar; but rake me to your maternal bosom," arley turned from him with an angry flush, but held his temper. ** Fred, will you come?” he asked. will be better for you.” *Confound it, Brewster,” said Fred, who had not rorgottee that it was Charley who offered Cecil his boat. “I supposed that it wus generally accounted commendable in a man to be able to give due atten- tion to his own affairs, without meddling with those of other people. I’m very grateful, and all that sort of thing, for your watchful care; but I confess myself at a loss to imagine who appointed you as my guar- dian and protector.” Snubbed a second time, Charley Brewster turned on his heel and walked off, without another word. “Let the fool go!” he muttered, angrily, ‘“T] doubt whether I'm not the bigger fool for trying to oo ha jana its en he thought of May; and a pang of sympath shot through his heart at the suffering she ogee ate dure over her brother’s ruin. “ Disposed of once more,” muttered Billy Saunder- son, with a gleam of satisfaction, as Brewster turned away. ‘‘ Now to business!” He had no difficulty in_ still further plying Fred with liquor. But by half-past nine a feelin of re- morse and shame came over Fred, and he determin- ed to put an end to the dissipation of the evening. ‘Pugh! Fred, you're not going?” said Billy, when he announced his purpose. ‘* Yes, I’ve had enough for to-night.” “But it ain’t ten o'clock yet! Nonsense, man! we're in for a night of it. The Fourth of July don’t come but once a year. Step up and take something.” ““No more for me, if you please. You may Stay as ae. as you like; but I am going to make a change of base. a Oh, pshaw! Fred, this is stopping right in the mid- J . But having declared his determination, Fred was not to be dissuaded, and began to walk toward the door. Billy accompanied , and together they emerged on the street. **You know it As they d out the door they were jostled by others en ; and in that moment Billy’s hand glided into *s pocket, and came out again, with abunch of keys held between the fore and middle fingers. The keys were transferred to the “ tail- pocket "’ of his own coat, and then Billy tied a knot of ribbon in his buttonhole, and walked as far as the corner with Fred. There he took leave of him, and returned to the hotel and went up to his room. ‘I wonder if they are as sharp as they think they are?’’ he muttered, as he struck a light. He suspected that in order to get possession of the keys, without his of pacing able to swear that he had given them to him, Tiger Dick had employed a cunning thief to pick his pocket. But with thi sus- pris in his mind, he had watched every one that iad come near him, in his walk to the corner and back; yet he had felt no hand in his pocket. He now thrust his own hand in, expecting to draw forth the keys. What was his surprise to find, in- Pe a sm a awit | wrapped in aes foil rom a kage of tobacco n opened, it proved tocontain ten ten-dollar bills, * ‘By the jumping geewhillakers! if that ain't the caters e that was ever played on this sport!” he exclaim rdly able to credit his senses. The truth was that he had not been robbed on the street, butafter he returned to the hotel, and while he was passing through the crowded office, feeling se- cure from any attempt at thievery, Shadow Jim was by no means a bungler. ‘Hurrah!’ cried Billy, patting the money affec- tionately. ‘ This will get me out of one of the con- foundedest scrapes that I ever got into. Hurrah! I’m on my feet again. Now, lay on, Macduff! Jum aeeo on my muscle! I’m ready for the whole and ca el” In the exuberance of his joy. Riis resolved to make a night of it; and, secreting the money, re- turned to the saloon, after an absence of not more than fifteen minutes, where he again met Charley Brewster. Meanwhile the knob of Tiger Dick's door turned, and without any previous warning, Shadow Jim stood in his presence. “ Your ney. boss,” he said, laconically, tossing Ss Fred Powell’s keys on the table. ‘Good! You were successful? Jim, you're a trump!” = ing pen and paper before him, wrote a line, and said: “That to Cecil Beaumont, without delay.”’ Shadow Jim took the paper, and without a word, lett Haha arine- ta ried Tiger Dick, exult- ‘ . e %o r antly rattling the ke = “These are the little jok- ers that answer a dozen ends. First, they give us ready access to the treasure-house. Sec- ond, by to implicate you, they stifle in- Vv ation. , they prove an ‘o sesame,’ should any of us run our head into a sl Fourth, they set you and your precious pa by the ears, which may prove a hundred thousandgor so in the kets of Tiger Dick, my Lord Duke & Co th, they deprive you of the black-eyed Peri, who was never destined for such a loggerhead as you, and of whom more anon. Sixth, and best of by sinking you in infamy, they revenge the in- t offered me in her presence!”’ And at this last Tiger Dick und his teeth and fetched his hand down on the table, with a force MICOOOKS,€C)