Beadle's New York Dime Library, No. 574 — page 9: what you’re looking at

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

Had there been time, Eleanor would have made an effort to carry the news of her encour- aging success to Hugh Spender’s office, but the afternoon was waxing late, and moreover, there was no certainty of finding him there, She therefore burried homeward, and with the assistance of Florine’s shrewdness, managed to re-enter the house, and gain ber apartments without attracting observation from within or without. At dinner that evening, Eleanor, though some- what distraite, was exquisitely dressed, and look- ing her loveliest. hile not altogether lively, she managed to impart sufficient agreeableness into her treat- - ment of John Burley, as her father’s guest— — 2 Pg Fk SS. > . hin ‘ay ad > ae y j ey We. % > | playing and singing his favorite airs for him, ides conversing with amiable good-nature— as to encourage him not a little, while also con- tributing to Colonel Sherwood’s satisfaction, though the former found difficulty in reconcil- ‘ ing his hope of her having whistled the wretched Howland down the wind with the fact of her association with the Falcon Detective (as he thought), whom he bitterly cursed in his secret, heart, aud, givea the opportunity, would have assassinated with an enthusiasm worthy of a better cause, ‘May I come again, Miss Sherwood?” He was making his good-night acknowledg- ments at last, and she even managed to restrain a shudder while permitting him to take her hand. ‘‘ Why, what is to prevent you, Mr. Bur- ley?’ with an elevation of her delicately-penciled brows, ‘‘T mean,” with a burning look of his tropical eyes, ‘‘ might I come again—to see you exclu- sively—with—with the chance of making myself interesting?” ** Yes!” decidedly, and with a peculiar smile; **T shall always have an interest in you, Mr. Burley—of one sort or another.” The equivocation was lost upon him. : Before she could guess his intention, he had raised her hand to his lips, kissed it passionate- ly, and was gone. , ‘* Aha, Nelly!” was Colonel Sherwood’s com- ment, after witnessing the act; ** progress, pro- gress! We may soon be on with a new love, when off with the oldvand unworthy one; eh?” Eleanor made some inarticulate reply in a choking voice, her frame quivering with sup- pressed anger, the back of her hand where the man’s lips had pressed it feeling as if it had been stung by a serpent. ‘‘ By the way, my dear,” continued her fa- ther, at the foot of the stair, ‘‘ I shall want to have a little talk with you in the morning. And I believe I'll try a new sensation now by going to bed at ten o’clock.” **Aren’é you afraid it will be too much for you, Ezra Sherwood?” sarcastically observed iss Bigbee, coming into the hall as he was assing up the stairs. ‘‘ You ate your dinner in your own home this same evening, instead of at your club, you must remember—sengation enough in all conscience for a masculine brain, one would imagine! Ha!” ‘‘Ta ta, Jerusha, my dear!” pleasantly from above, ‘* Don’t forget your gallon night-cap of tea, and then pleasant dreams of the lover- despot who has been so long in putting in an ap- sedraube.” Eleanor scarcely heard them. A moment or two later she was prostrate, face downward, in the solitude of her chamber, her brain awhirl, ber heart nigh to bursting with its bitter anguish. ‘“‘My God! can [ carry it out?’ she sobbed. “Oh, Charley, my love, my life! it is all for you, for you! But which suffers the most, you in the ignominy of your prison cell, or I in this whirl of duplicity, repugnance, beart-weariness and shame?” at CHAPTER XIII. OPPORTUNITIES, As for John Burley, instead of returning di- rectly to his lodgings from his employer's house, he quietly took his station under the fringing trees of Mount Morris Park, opposite, and re- mained on watch. Hé had seen Eleanor dispatching her maid up- on an errand a few minutes prior to his own de- parture, and was determined to force some sort of an explanation with her. It was a Saturday night, and, notwithstanding ‘it was after ten o’clock, all Harlem was very lively, with the business avenues and many of the cross streets still crowded, though the im- mediate vicirity of the romantic little park was comparatively quiet, with but a few stray couples to be seen now and again strolling amid the deeply-shaded walks, At last he saw Florine, and, luckily, she was coming along the park side of the street—per- haps with a mischievous desire of surprising or spving out a flirtation or two, _ Burley addressed her, and she came to a smil- ing pause with her accustomed self-possession, ** You, monsieur?”’ | ** And no one else, belle Florine,” replied Bur- ley, with forced amiability. ‘‘ I have been wait- ing for'you.” ‘Monsieur might employ bis time better.” - na, - Pw i ‘you imagine that mademoiselle makes me her re) RRA A, pS * % J ” Old Falcon’s Double. ‘*Monsieur takes the liberty of judging for himself as to that.” ‘‘ It is well to have an independent spirit.” ‘* What was your errand, Florine?” **To the district telegraph station for made- moiselle,” with assumed reluctance. ‘*T presume you give me the right to ques- tion?” ** Monsieur bas paid for the privilege, at all events,” ** What was your errand to the telegraph sta- tion, then?” “DG telegraph Monsieur Spender,” promptly, “*that mademoiselle must see him to-morrow morning, without fail,” ** So!” he frowned, ‘* You were with that de- tective to-day?” “What of it?” ** Florine, you owe me an explanation, as to that.” **Do I, monsieur? Well, I always pay my debts,” , ** Proceed, if you please. creditor just now.” ‘* Mademoiselle, of course, couldn’t accom- pany the detective to the wine-room herself. She sent me in her place.” ‘For what purpose?” “To assist, if possible, in discovering some- thing of those missing employees.” ‘** What did you discover?” ** Nothing.” ‘* Nor the detective, either?” ‘Neither he. For my part, I doubt if their discovery would amount to anything, anyway.” ‘Of course, it wouldn’t!” Then, after a frowning pause: ‘* Florine, you gave me en- couragement to suppose that Miss Sherwood was ceasing to care for Howland, the convict.” ‘“* It was the truth,” mendaciously. ‘* Why should she still concern herself, then, in the effort to prove him innocent?” “Out of respect for whilom tender associ- ations. She can wish the young man freed, without dreaming of marrying him—a convict —can’t she?’ ‘* Not very consistently. can,” ‘* Mademoiselle has a very tender heart.” **T should say so. What further appoint- ments has she with Falconbridge?” ‘*T do not know. Mon Dieu, monsieur! do Iam an impatient I don’t see how she alter ego?” After some further questioning in the same strain, and with a like result, Burley’s manner changed to one of admiration for his compan- **Come into the Park here with me, Florine,” he said at last. ‘‘ There is one other thing I would say to you.” ‘* Why not say it here?” ‘There are occasional passers, shall be less likely to be observed.” She complied with assumed reluctance, which became real a moment later, so mesmerically did bis black eyes fasten their burning gaze upon her from among the deeper shadows, ** Have he thought of my propositioa to yourself, Florine?” he softly maked. ‘Yes; but it will not do.” ‘*Not when I love you?’ He had taken one of her hands, holding it so strongly that she could not withdraw it. ‘**You would deceive me, monsieur. It is mademoiselle you love.” **No; only her fortune—which you and I are = spend for her when you shal] have helped me it. ‘‘T can’t believe'you sincere ix this, monsieur.” He suddenly released her hand to produce a dagger, with which be slightly menaced her. Terrified, she would have fled but that he held ber by a species of magnetism, potent, but not less terrifying in itself, *‘ Listen, Florine!” he exclaimed, savagely. It was mere acting, but he was determined to secure the girl’s secret alliance in his plot for Eleanor’s fortune by fair means or foul. ‘* My passion for you is so genuine, so overwhelming, that, did I deem it possible you should ever love another man, I would plunge this poniard in your heart. Now do you believe me? ** Alas!” faintly; ‘‘but how could you marry both mademoiselle and myself?” _ “Of course, I can’t. My promise to you is a conditional one, After you shall have assisted me in securing her, it shall be up stakes and away with me and her money? How long will it then take for her to secure a divorcee from me? After that, you shall rejoin me in a far, fair, foreign land. You shall be my bride—my second, but true and only bride; we shal) be rich and joyous, without a care; and the world shall pass as in a dream of golden hours,” ‘Oh, but this is so bizarre, so very wild, my friend.” , Ome Another slight menace e. In there we ** Do you with the kni sc Yes.” : ; ‘Remember, then, from this time forth you are absolutely devoted to my interests.” ‘* ‘Yes, monsieur.” With a lightning-like movement he put up the weapon, and attempted to embrace her, But his spell was somehow snapped, and, turn- 7 / ¥ ° 7% . | eA . J * + ‘ = . - ..2 od a LL LLLBLDB AL XLBBLLLL LL LLXLLBRRBRLXXLDLLLL LLL LLL OE Rs OEP DCSE Pe om v7 . ey y A é¢ Joe a a a ee ee ee Se ing, she fled likea deer, resting not until she was safe within doors. Burley gave a low, chuckling laugh as he strode away. ‘The vain little fool!” he muttered. “ Let me but keep her true till the queenly Eleanor is mine, after which I[ shall enjoy a laugh and jest at her expense.” Bat the wily Florine Duprez was more of an enigma than this hot-blooded plotter (or was he already but a bungler?) gave her credit for be- ing; for all that, she reported the success of her errand to the district telegraph station to her young mistress, without saying a word of her interview with him, “Shall you attend to your Sunday-school class to-day, my dear?’ Colonel Sherwood asked of his daughter at breakfast next morn- ing. - ‘** No, papa,” she replied. ‘“‘Itis now the va- cation. ‘* Well, I shall go down the Sound in the Fear- naught. Burley is going to sail her, so that I may judge something of bisseamanship. Sha’n’t be bere again till to-morrow night.” ‘*Tt takes the lords of creation to break the Sabbath with their impious pleasure-seeking,” interposed Aunt Jerusba, with a sniff. ‘‘ Well, they’re the bosses—so far.” CHAPTER XIV. INDEPENDENT ELEANOR. **] THOUGHT you might enjoy going along with us, you know,” Colonel Sherwood con- tinued, still addressing his daughter, and alto- gether ignoring the interruption. ‘“ No, thank you, papa,” replied Eleanor, in her quiet but decided way. ‘‘I don’t care to ” 7 O. “Sorry for that. However, it’s deep into June, and we must both be thinking of getting away for the season. Shall it be Saratoga or Long Branch as an initiative?” ‘* Neither for me, papa; I shall scarcely leave the city for a resort this season.” He looked at her, first with surprise, then with suspicion: but prudently abstained from an expression of either. going on with his breakfast, ‘‘ And, in all probability, I shaJl get away by the middle of the week.” ‘* Eleanor was secretly well satisfied to hear this, which would furnish her with the unre- stricted opportunities for which she longed. ‘**] shall attend the woman’s suffrage conven- tion,” calmly announced Miss Bigbee, not yet exhilarated beyond her third matutinal oan of tea. ‘*‘It meets in Philadelphia on Tuesday, and will doubtless continue sitting throughout the week. Ezra, my love,” ingratiatingly, ‘‘ I wish you would oblige me with fifty dollars to- morrow evening.” **Oh, of course,” responded the colonel, with good-natured satire. ‘‘But I was one of the despotic monsters not so very long ago,” Aunt Jerusha prudently refrained from a re- tort, and began to stir up her fourth cup witha conveniently preoccupied look over the rim of her spectacles into the inscrutable unknown, As Colonel Sherwood. finished and went out leisurely, with a significant look at his daugh- ter, she forthwith followed him into the library. ““My dear girl,” he there began, with more than his usual seriousness, ‘I understand that you have secured the services of Falconbridge, the detective?” She implied an affirmative by saying: ‘‘Of course, I sha’n’t rest, papa, till Charles’s inno- cence is proved and he is once more a free and exonerated man.” The colonel checked a movement of im- pitience, and his face grew both stern and anx- 10us, ‘‘ And is this determination of yours to re- main in the city during the hot months part aad 1 of the same determination?” 15%." ‘* Eleanor, this cuts me to the heart,” **] am sorry for that, father.” ‘*It cuts me to the heart,” continued Colonel Sherwood, “‘to think of your still clinging to that unworthy young man—a State Prison in- mate, a rascally convicted forger!” ** It grieves me to say it, father,” said Eleanor, with tightening lips, ‘‘but should you repeat those last three words, or their equivalent, in my hearing, as a characterization of Charles 7% tous you andI will separate—permerent- y. The colonel suddenly eppes into a chair, thrusting his hands deep into his pceckets, with a helpless, miserable air. Mi ys # He knew from ex dressed him as father, instead of the more ee a that the will of this strong charac , self-poised daughter of his was as adamant; but, much and humiliatingly as he felt his inferiority, he could not afford te shirk the attempt upon it at this aye 8 aes the vs ou propose Eleanor,” be at length asked, r | comicboo ue mos Fo + ‘‘T shall go alone then,” he quietly remarked, Let us try to talk it over rationally,” he | rather groaned than suggested. ‘With all my heart, father.” And she also seated herself, | rience that when she ad- Young 18>, ae : - ‘ a 2 Seal. *