Beadle's New York Dime Library, No. 332 — page 5: what you’re looking at

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which had been administered to her by Dr. ‘Tatham. The hour for guard-mount approached, and the old Constable of the Tower, who very often came down to see it, made his a rance, and eyed the new guard thoughtfully, all the time the ceremony was proceeding. The new officer of the guard was Oliver Howard, and the Constable seemed to take great interest in watching the | in which he went through the ceremony, which the volatile young man had a habit of slighting. But on this particular morning Oliver was as grave as a judge, and went through his duty as well as a veteran could have done. When the new guard had been posted and the doors were opened to the public, which has its daily fill of gazing at the wonders of the vener- able building, the Constable beckoned to Oliver, and the young man followed him to his rooms, where the commander of the post asked him: ‘“Mr. Howard, you have heard of what happened last night, I ‘reed R Yes, sir,” responded the young man, without evincing any special interest. ‘‘Then you will please remember that it is in the duty of your post, to-day, to see that no one gets a chance to hide in the building in any way whatever. I do not wish a repetition of the fright of last night.” “It shall not happen,” said Oliver, with a sort of sneer on his ests handsome face. ‘‘If I had been here last night it should not have happened at all, sir; but as you know, that brother of mine is given to Oe SREB, and a dozen might have got in for all he knew. I hear that they found a rope dangling from the window by which the man got down, after he had frightened my bold brother.” His tone was openly sarcastic and scornful, CHAPTER VI. THE HEAD OF THE HOUSE, THe old Duke of Norfolk, who headed the lords when they went into the House, had the double distinction of being the premier peer and, the most ill-tempered man in England. With more riches than any other lord in the House, and all that heart could wish for in the ‘way of splendor and comfort, he was yet an un- happy man, for the reason that he was childless, and that he knew, after his death, his inheri- tance would go to a distant kinsman, who iu the mean time was plain Mr. Howard. And this fact made the old duke ill-tempered and morose, the more so that he was gettin old, and that his health, never very good, ha ry the last years made him a prisoner in his chair. Yet it was a curious thing about him, that he would not give in to the inevitable, and that, though he knew the next heir to the title was young George Howard, he had never in any way recognized him, while the young man, on his part, had never called on his aged kinsman, through pride. George’s younger brother, Oliver, had not been so scrupulous, and had “be gw visited at the house, with the result that the old duke ‘was more incensed against his next heir every time that he received a visit from the heir’s bro- ther. He had been a wild youth in his own time, and was suffering the consequences in his old a aah igh there was a certain bond of sympathy between him and the wild young an; but of all this George was pro- oundly ignorant, for he never ree i to in- uire where his younger brother been, and the other never volunteered the information. Yet it was a strange thing that, on the day after the incident in the Tower, George How- ard, for the first time since he had been in Lon- don, took the resolution of making a formal visit to his aged kinsman, and found himself in front of the old duke’s residence, about three in the afternoon A gorgeous-liveried flunky took his card, with an air as if the visitor were a mere nobody, and the young officer was left to cool his heels in an ante-room for nearly twenty minutes before the gorgeous flunky came back, to say, with more respect than he had shown at his first reception of the little square of paste- ‘* Is grace will be ’appy to see you, sir,” Then George went up the broad staircase, and was ushered into a large library, where the old duke, looking as morose as usual, was seated in a big -chair, with his foot up on a stool, in from of him, wrapped in flannel, the result of a severe twinge of he gout. But ye. the old noble was cross and surly he could not forget the habits of a lifetime, and had not ceased to be a gentleman; for he spoke as soon as his young ki entered the room, saying, in a weak voice: ‘I must apologize, sir, that I am unable to rise to receive you; but illness must be my ex- cuse. The gout and I are old friends; but the scoundrel has a way of set my foot, ‘that is not altogether agreeable.” ““I hope your grace will not trouble yourself to rise on my account,” said George politely. ‘I am young, and your = is no longer as young as of old time. hope that you will ' i | i Spring-Heel Jack. soon recover, sir, and be well again for many a year, e took the seat to which he was motioned, as he spoke; and the old duke eyed him sharp- ly; for it was the first time that he had seen his young kinsman. The old man had sharp eyes and heavy brows, and he wore a sort of uncertain smile on his lip, as he said slowly: ‘*Hope that I shall be well for many a year? That is well said, sir; but where would your fortune and title be, then?” George colored slightly; for he had not ex- pected that the old duke would speak out so plainly; but he answered at once: ‘“‘God grant your grace long life, is my wish. I am not one of those who wishes to step into the shoes of dead men, before their time. It is not my fault that I was born where I was, your grace, and I have reproached myself, of late, that we, who are near kinsmen, should have seen so little of each other.” The old duke bent his brows thoughtfully. “Tam grateful for your sentiments, sir,” he said slowly; ‘‘ but there was noreason we should feign an affection that we do not feel. You are the next heir to the title, and, since I have seen you to-day, Iam free to confess that you will ‘ace the robes well, as faraslooksgo. But the ove between us can never be great, and the sight of you always calls to mind the fact that, some day, I must die, and you step into those shoes of which you speak so scornfully. Nay, sir, spare me your protestations. They are un- necessary. Instead of making them, let me ask what has procured me the honor of this visit, aside from that kinship which you have forgot- ten till to-day?” George hesitated for a moment, and then looked up at his old kinsman. ‘You are the head of the house of Howard, duke,” he began. ‘*That goes without saying, sir,” the other in- terrupted rather sharply. ‘If I were not, I si, never have seen you to-day.” rge bowed. ‘*Tt is as the head of the house that I come to your grace. I contemplate marriage in a—” Again the duke interrupted him, this time, with positive rudeness. **T have no power to make or mar you, sir, and my consent is ene, ‘‘T am aware of that, duke; but, being the head of my house, I thought it but a matter of courtesy to come to you, and tell you.” ** You are exceedingly polite, sir.” The tone of the duke was sarcastic. ** Furthermore,” pursued George tranquilly, **to ask you whether you have any objection to the daughter of General Reid, Constable of the Tower, as the future duchess?” The old duke raised his eyebrows. ‘Indeed, sir? And suppose that I told you that I had a decided objection to anything of the sort, would that make any difference in the match? ‘** Tt would, duke.” The old man’s face was screwed up into a queer expression as he said: ‘Then you came here for a purpose, after all?” “*T did, P hae} ce, The fact is that, General Reid has forbidden me to mention the matter to his daughter, and I have concluded that, if your grace pleases to say a word for me, the obstacle would be removed at once.” Then he sat back in his chair, and watched the face of the old noble who seemed to be over- whelmed with astonishment. For several minutes there was a dead silence in the room, and then the duke asked sarcastic- ally, looking at the young officer as if he were a strange animal: ‘Sir, did you ever hear of Jack Howard of the Blues, who went by the name of Handsome Jack?” ‘*T have only heard hisname, your grace. He I believe, my uncle.” “He was, sir, and had the tiny of bei the most hab: scamp inallEngland. I find that his nephew has the advantage of him in the ualities he most affected, as in looks also. I on’t deny, sir, that you are a ides Seer or ed handsome young dog; but when you come toas me to intercede with the father of some lady, to get him to give his consent to make a duchess out of his daughter, and take the title out of the direct line into your own—confound it, sir, you take too much liberty. The future duchess, in- deed! Why, confound your impudence, you young puppy, do you suppose that I am too old marry yet? I may make a duchess, if I want to, out of the first Gypsy I pick up on Hampstead Heath. Go and fight your own battles, sir. Don’t come to me about them. Good-morning, sir, and better sense to you.” And the old gentleman rung the bell on the table beside him, at which the door opened in- stantaneously, and the tall flunky appeared, to whom the duke sna out: ‘* Show the door to this gentleman at once.” Howard had risen, when he was thus perem torily dismissed, and, as he swept to the door, he observed, bitterly: ‘As your grace pleases. I thought that the duty of a young kinsman would be taken as it was meant, kindly; but, since you repudiate it, 5 There will be one I am left only one resource. less mourner at your funeral. The old duke listened with his head averted and his cheek paled slightly, as it always did when death was openly mentioned before him. He cast a malignant glance at the retirin figure of the young officer, as he went throug the door, and chuckled as he said: ‘‘IT may disappoint you all, someday. I am not too old to have an heir yet, sir.” George Howard made no answer, but went out; and the old man, as soon as the young one was gone, began to shiver and shake, as he al- ways did after any agitation. The thought of death was never welcome to him, and it had been growing more hateful as the prospect grew nearer. He looked round the room, and muttered to himself: ‘Ay, ay, I'll have to leave it all—all. Can't take a thing with me. What a queer waken- ing it will be in the next world, if there is any. One moment the Duke of Norfolk, with all the world at my feet; the next, nobody at all. I wonder if that will be the ae But, as there was mo answer to the question, which so many rich men have asked themselves before, the old man grew gloomy and thought- ful, till he was roused by a twinge of gout in the foot, that he had almost forgotten, when he be- gan to curse and swear at the pain and his roms kinsman, whom he consigned to a very ot place, as he grumbled away. In the mean time, George was on his way back to the Tower. CHAPTER VII, THE GYPSY. As George Howard approached the Tower, he had to pass through a good many harrow streets, near the city, and in one of these he en- counted a tall, dark man, evidently a Gypsy, who begged alms of him, with the request: ‘‘For the love of a poor man with a large family, your honor, who hasn’ta morsel to put into the mouths of one of them, give a few pence,” The youug officer looked at the tall and well built figure of the other, with surprise. ‘* What does a man of your size do, begging?” he asked incredulously. ‘“* Why, you are big enough to be enlisted in the Guards. You needn't go round asking alms.” The man did not seem to be hungry, although his clothes were ragged, and his feet bare. The weather was warm, so that there was nothing in his appearance calculated to inspire pity and the question of the young officer was natural. The Gypsy favored him with a spiteful look. ‘*T don’t want no soldier business,” he said. ‘*T know all about it. I don’t want to get tied up at the triangles,* or have to take off my hat to every officer that passes. If ye don’t want to give a cove a penny, go to the devil.” The transition from whining mendicancy to open insolence was so sudden, that the young officer was irritated, and gave the other who had got right in front of him, a push to one side, that would have sent most men into the gutter, for George was aah ig On the Gypsy it produced little or no effect, and he grinned as he said: “Try it again, my covey. I ain’t the sort they makes sogers of, but I can fight too.” — So saying, he put himself into an attitude of decidedly pugilistic intent, crying: ‘*Come on, my hearty. I’mthe man to warm your jacket.” For a moment the young officer hesitated. He was of a phlegmatic temperament, and not given ae fighting; but, when he was excited, he forgot S. His face paled to the lips as he saw the mena- cing attitude of the Gypsy; and, without wait- ing to think of what he was doing, he sprung at the other like a tiger, and sent in a shower of hard and well-directed stabs, with both fists, as whe were fencing, with a small-sword in each He made no pretense of defending himself; for he had never been given to boxing, and only thought of hitting the other. Had he been less powerful than he was he might have fared badly, but, as it was, he drove the ply Rag striking as he went, and finally knocked him flat into the gutter, when the man raised his hands, crying, with the blocd stream- ing down his face: ‘‘That’ll do. Your honor’s a better man than I thought. I knocks under.” George stared at him, with some surprise. ‘*Get up,” he said. ‘* You are a scoundrel to beg, with that tough frame of yours. If you want to enlist, I'll take care that the sergeant brings you down to your bearings pretty soon. I’ve no charity for such as you.” The Gypsy slowly rose and wiped the blood from his face, where George’s fist had near broken his nose. He did not seem to be at put out by the encounter. ‘*'Your honor’s a better man than I thought, and I'll go with your honor,” he said, civilly * “Triangles,’’ were made to tie up asoldier when being flogyed. <S7Gom 4 i eGomigcneo