Evelyn’s fortune and Mabel’s were, like much of my own, invested in the Bank of Pennsylvania, and deemed secure in that gigantic bubble. At twenty-three Evelyn, of course, consulted no one as to the disposition of her income, which she spent freely and magnificently on herself alone. Her jewels, silks, laces, were of the finest quality and fabric; she drove a peerless little equipage, had her own ponies and tiger and maid; travelled frequently, entertained splendidly, though this last, it must be confessed, was not at her expense, if redounding to her credit.

To her my father had decreed the first position in his household until my marriage (with her sanction) or majority should occur, and she kept it bravely. She possessed a leading spirit, and loved to rule whether by right or sufferance. Lovers she had in plenty; suitors, such as they were, manifold; yet she preferred so far her single estate to aught that could be or had been offered. I began to think that her constancy deserved to be rewarded, and to withdraw on such score the objection I had felt so strong in the outset against her union with Claude Bainrothe.

He had been already more than a year in Copenhagen when I discovered how it was between them, or rather thought I had done so, from seeing one night when she came into my room in her night-dress, which was accidentally parted at the bosom, the betrothal-ring, so peculiar as not readily to be mistaken, which Claude Bainrothe had once given to me, suspended from the button of her chemisette by a small gold chain, so as to lie constantly against her heart. How her pride had ever stooped to receive and wear the pledge originally given to another it was difficult for me to conceive, and little less bitter, I confess, at first to know. I thought all care was over as to Claude Bainrothe and his affairs, but a qualm of anguish surged through my whole being, the dying throe, I well believe, of trust and affection, when I beheld this carefully-guarded token.

As Evelyn raised her hand to fasten her night-robe, through the accidental opening of which I had caught sight of my repudiated treasure, I noticed on one of her slender fingers, from which all other incumbrances in the way of rings had been removed for the night, a circlet of plain gold such as is generally used for the symbol of the marriage-rite, an engagement-ring, I then supposed it.

“Let me see your wedding-ring, Evelyn,” I said, laughingly, to conceal my embarrassment. She colored slightly.

“What, that little affair of a philopoena?” she rejoined. “Oh, I promised not to take it off until certain things were accomplished, nor to tell the name of the giver either, so don’t question about it, ’an you love me, Hal!’”

“Was it sent from beyond the seas?” I questioned, seriously, “I shall ask nothing more.”

“What an idea! No, on my honor, it was not. There! I will not tell you another word about it, so don’t bore me, Miriam. I thought you, yourself, despised a catechist, and undue curiosity. What I came here, to-night, for, was not to be catechised, or ‘put to the question,’ but to ask a favor which you must grant, dear prophetess, whether you will or no. Now, don’t refuse your Eva,” and she kissed me affectionately; “I am going to give a grand fancy ball, or rather, we are, the same thing of course, and I want you to lay off your deep mourning for a time” (hers had been already entirely put aside), “and appear as night. You can still wear black, you know; I shall be Morning, and Mabel, Hesper. Now, won’t it be a lovely idea? Hesper, you know, is both morning and evening star, and can hover between us, bearing a torch, and dressed a la Grecque. Is not that appropriate our little link of sisterhood? It cannot fail to make an impression. I consider it, myself, a capital idea. You can wear your mother’s diamonds at last, which Mr. Bainrothe means to hand over to you to-morrow as your birthday gift not that, exactly, either,” seeing my rising scorn, “but as a token of respect suitable for the occasion. He might hold on to them two years longer you know, legally,” she added, carelessly.

“He is very magnanimous,” I remarked, coldly; “I shall be glad to have my diamonds though, in my own possession, I acknowledge, but why does he make any parade about it at all? They are mine all the same, whether in his hands or my own. Every thing that man does seems theatrical and affected to me!”

“I thought you were beginning to incline very favorably to Cagliostro! I am sure this was the opinion of all who saw you together at Saratoga, and I believe, between ourselves, it is his own.”

“Evelyn Erie, you know better than this! People, of themselves, would never have dreamed of such a thing, and he, too, knows my sentiments thoroughly. He only feigns ignorance.”

“My dear, dear girl! worse things than this have been said frequently, and stranger ones have come to pass. Mr. Bainrothe is certainly a splendid financier, that was your own father’s opinion. You will never marry any man who will take better care of your money, and that is a consideration with you, or ought to be, Miriam. Your estate is your chief distinction, child, if you only knew it; besides, with a knowledge of your constitutional malady, you should be very careful what hands you fall into. No woman that I know of demands such peculiar care and tenderness from a husband, nor such choice in her surroundings. After all, Mr. Bainrothe is still a very handsome man, and admirably well preserved if not exactly young; he does not look forty, he has not a gray hair, a false tooth, nor a wrinkle.”

“Have you done, Evelyn Erie?” I asked, almost ferociously. “Have you completed your catalogue of insult? Then listen, in turn, to my counsel. Marry him yourself by all means; he would suit you, body and soul, far better than me. Indeed, I have never seen any one else who seemed so thoroughly your counterpart, match and mate, as Cagliostro!”

“Thank you,” she said, furiously; “if I thought you were in earnest” here she hesitated, clinching her hand, and biting her white lips.

“I am in earnest,” I rejoined, quietly; “what then?” and I looked coldly, resolutely in her face.

“Why I would perhaps marry the son, just to correct your fallacious idea about the father, that is all! This course is shut out from you, however, entirely, by your own folly, so you must take what you can get now, for Claude Bainrothe, let me assure you, is lost to you forever.” And she went out, smiling triumphantly.

I suspected from that hour what I knew later, and I had suffered the last pang to agonize my heart that my broken troth should ever cost me. The corpse of my dead love had bled at the touch of its murderer, in accordance with ancient superstition. Now, calm and quiet oblivion and the sepulchre should surround and enshroud it forever more.

I think I kept my determination bravely from that hour, but others must judge of this for me. We are not gods, to say to the tide of feeling, “Thus far, and no farther shalt thou come.” We are only mortal Canutes at best, to lift back our chairs as the tide advances, and seat ourselves securely thereon beyond the surf. We all remember how it fared with the quaint old monarch and moralist when he tried the plan of the immortals, and commanded the sea to obey him we perish if we arrogate too much when the surges sweep around us; but we can, we must avoid them if we hope to escape their force, and plant ourselves beyond them firmly on the shore.

Evelyn’s fancy ball was a magnificent affair, and a complete success, as the word goes. She chose to call it my debut party, but I never felt that it was so, or that I was more than any other guest. I would not have chosen a fancy dress for my first appearance, and she certainly was the queen of the occasion.

She was dressed as Aurora, in exquisite, fleecy gauze draperies of white, azure, and rose color, so artistically arranged as irresistibly to remind the observer of those delicate, transparent tints of morning that greet the rising sun. On her brow was a diadem of opals and diamonds arranged in a crescent form, from beneath which, her fleecy white veil flowed backward to the hem of her garments like a mist of the early day-spring; a rosy exhalation of the dawn enveloping but not obscuring the radiance of her raiment, over which dew-drops seemed to have been shed by the lavish hand of wakening Nature.

Her face, so fair as to gain from this marble-like radiance its chief characteristic, was delicately tinted to-night on either cheek so as to emulate the early blushes of Aurora. Her colorless hair, of a tint so neutral as to defy description, curling in light spiral ringlets so as to drop profusely on her bosom, had been richly powdered with gold-dust for this occasion, and glistened like the sunlight, or, to fall in my comparison, the tresses of Lucretia Borgia, as her historians portray them.

Nothing could be more refined, more refulgent, more ethereal, than her whole appearance, nor had I ever seen the light-blue eyes so clear and brilliant, the thin, writhing lips so scarlet and smiling, the pearly teeth so glistening by contrast with the first, as on this occasion.

Her arms and neck, which wanted contour, and yet were of snowy whiteness, were skillfully draped in her many-colored robe so as to cover all defects; and a chaplet of pearls, mingled with diamonds, concealed the slight prominence of the collar-bones, and descended low on the white and well-veiled bosom. Every eye was turned on her with admiration, and the low murmur that followed her through the halls she trod so proudly, proclaimed her triumph far more loudly than more open flattery could have done.

“You, too, look well to-night, in your black-velvet robe and diamonds, Miriam, better than I have ever seen you!” said a low voice in my ear, as I echoed the passing praises lavished on Evelyn’s beauty by one of her admirers. “It is scarcely a fancy costume though, after all.”

“Thank you, Mr. Bainrothe,” I replied coldly. “For reasons of my own, I have preferred to make my costume as subdued as possible.”

“By Jove! I wish our young exile could see you this evening,” he went on, disregardful of my brief explanation. “He would strew his hair with ashes, and wear sackcloth in penance for the past, I doubt not; for I tell you frankly, Miriam, you have improved wonderfully of late, and you bear inspection far better than Evelyn with all her beauty; your figure is absolutely faultless; your face the most attractive woman ever wore, if not the most absolutely regular. I tell you simple truths. I am a disinterested critic, you see, and stand apart gazing upon women simply as specimens. Your hands and feet are models, your smile enchanting, your voice musical, your manner witchery itself, when you choose to let out your nature; what more could heart desire?” and he gazed steadily in my face, insolently I felt it!

I had been listening indignantly to this cool summary of my attractions, and the arrogant idea manifestly uppermost, that Sultan Claude Bainrothe had only to appear on the scene, and throw his handkerchief, for me to succumb, and I had been so confounded by this tirade of compliment and commonplace that I scarcely knew how to stay its tide without absolute rudeness, such as no lady should ever be guilty of when he coolly continued his remarks as if wholly unobservant of my displeasure.

“Evelyn, with all her arts, is a little faded already; don’t you see it, Miriam? There is no corrosive poison equal to envy, and that, by-the-by, is her specialty. She is bitterly envious by nature. Most of those thin-lipped, sharp-elbowed, sharp-nosed women are, if you observe. Faded at twenty-three! Sad, but true of half our American morning-glory beauties. For my part, I love the statuesque in women, the enduring! those exquisitely-moulded proportions on which the gaze reposes with such delight, and that set a man to dreaming, whether he will or not.” And his eye dwelt on me from throat to waist in a manner that made my flesh crawl as if the worms that tortured Herod were passing over it. At this point I rebelled I ground my teeth resolutely my face flushed to the temples I could willingly have stricken that audacious scrutinizer in the face with my clinched hand, and he knew it! How coarse coarseness makes us, even when most disinclined to it naturally! His sensuous brutality made me almost fiercely brutal in turn. As it was, I could only put him away with a gesture of contempt I sought not to command, and with which I swept past him into the thickest of the crowd, cursing at heart the bitter fate that had cast me bound and helpless, for a season, into such unscrupulous hands.

There was no one to turn to now. I knew Mr. Lodore thought Evelyn perfect, and me a sinner, because in the matter of church duties she was the more observant. Besides, my Jewish pedigree had always been a barrier between us. Dr. Pemberton, Mr. Stanbury, Laura, George Gaston, all that truly loved and believed in me, were gone for an indefinite time to Europe. I had not been suffered to accompany them, on many pleas and pretences, as I had wished to do, and this was the end of it all. Licentious persecution!

Evelyn, too! a blinded confederate in such schemes as should have nerved her woman’s heart to indignation rather! Marry that man! I would have cut off my own right hand, or burnt it to a cinder like Scaevola; sooner gone out to service played chambermaid on the boards, or the tragedy-queen of the commonest melodrama, far rather! It was all insult, injury, degradation, in whatever light I could view it, and every feeling in my nature was stung to exasperation.

It was well understood that I was an heiress, and I did not want for adulation. I was surrounded by fashion and beauty, and wreathed with approbation from the noblest and most exalted, on that night of festal splendor; and again that beautiful face that had cast its spell above me in my inexperienced childhood, and that age never seemed to change nor chill, bent above me with its gracious and genial sweetness, and the princely banker on this occasion condescended to manifest his kindly and approving interest in the daughter of his dead friend. At any other time, such tribute would have been most grateful and acceptable to me, for this man was almost my beau ideal at this period, but now the bitterness with which my heart was filled, permeated my whole being, and dashed every draught of enjoyment untasted from my lips.

Yet the memory of that time that face returned to me later with emotions irresistible, when the being who was then the idol of society, became its ostracized outcast, and, among all who bowed before him in his pride of place and power, were found, before two years had elapsed from this period,

“None so poor
To do him reverence.”

Already is the injustice of that decision forced on the convictions of his fellow-men. Our scales are not wisely balanced in this world we cannot weigh motives against acts, thought against deeds, with atom-like precision, nor measure the tempted with the temptation grain by grain, hair by hair. Ambition was the fault of the seraphim in the commencement be well assured that some of the old angelic leaven lingers still about all of its votaries and victims.

Ay victims! for he who was said to have made so many, was himself the victim of the society that spoiled and flattered him, and fostered his foibles, in the beginning, with its false and fawning breath, and, later, blew on him a blast of ice from its remorseless, pestilent jaws, that froze him out of his humanity.

He could not live moulded, as he was, of all sweet elements apart from social influences, from the regard, the affection, the approbation of his kind and he died of heart-starvation; fortunate, indeed, in that he was mercifully permitted so to die, rather than have lived, as less fervent natures might have done, in cold and cheerless apathy.

I do not defend his errors; I only seek to extenuate them. Pity and justice are not the same; but one may still so temper the other that Mercy, the appointed angel of this earth, may be the result.

Let us, who are mortal and fallible, be wary how we condemn one whose head was rendered giddy by his very pinnacle of power! Peace be his!

I have diverged so widely from my subject a most bitter and revolting one to me, eventually that I will not return to it just now; nor, indeed, do I even in thought revert to it with any thing like patience or pardon. There are some things, paradoxical as this may seem, we must forget, in order to forgive.

I am lingering too long on this period of my story, uneventful as it is just yet, and circumscribed as I am in space; but, as the boldest rider draws rein with a beating heart beside the dark abyss over which he must fling his horse, or perish, so I pause here, on the threshold of despair, and take breath for a flying leap for I shall clear it, reader, believe me!

It will be remembered that, at my father’s death, half of my means were invested in the stocks of the Bank of Pennsylvania; and that his directions were that, as the different loans he had made became due, they should, one after the other, be drawn in and invested in like manner by Mr. Bainrothe.

No details of my business had ever been discussed before me, nor had I any insight into the periods at which these loans were due, or how the money was cared for when paid in by my father’s executors, of whom, to my regret, Mr. Gerald Stanbury had refused to be one.

One thing alone I had heard them say, and it was said, I doubt not, expressly for my hearing. All debts should be paid in gold, as, according to law, this was the only legal tender. Paper, however excellent, should never be received in discharge of any liability of my estate, since it might render the executors responsible to me, to depart a hair’s-breadth from the very letter of the law, which enjoined specie payment.

“But why not receive bank stocks instead?” I had ventured to suggest, a little indignantly, “seeing all moneys are to be immediately reinvested in that form. Pennsylvania Bank stocks, I mean.”

“You know nothing about the matter, Miriam,” Evelyn had remarked, with some asperity. “Had your father deemed you capable of conducting your own affairs, he would not have appointed us to manage and direct them during your minority. No sinecure, I assure you!”

But Mr. Bainrothe had only laughed, and turned away tapping his boot with his rattan cane, amused, it appeared to me, by my sister’s assumption of importance, and, probably, as well by her entire ignorance of his true motive in exacting gold, of which secret spring of action she, knowing nothing, still tried to make so profound a mystery.

Yet he flattered Evelyn very much, I saw, on her business qualifications, and her insight into financial matters, of which abilities, indeed, she was more proud than of her accomplishments, or even beauty.

The last she took as a matter of course; but it was something new and unexpected to her to be considered sagacious and strong-minded, and very gratifying to her arrogant and exacting spirit ever alive to the delight of controlling the affairs of others, as well as her own to have the reins of government given apparently into her hands.

My father had placed an iron chest in a secure niche in the dining-room, behind the great central mirror, made for the purpose of concealing it, and to which he alone had access. Here he had kept a store of plate, money, jewels, and papers, so as to defy all burglarious interference or foreign scrutiny, and, in dying, had bequeathed the secret of the patent lock to Mr. Bainrothe alone. Old Morton even was ignorant of the contrivance.

I knew of the niche and the iron chest by the merest accident, and had been requested, nay, commanded, by my father, not to speak of either; so, in silence the mystery had almost died out of my recollection, when it was rather singularly revived again in this wise:

During one of the hottest nights early in September, after our return from Saratoga, I descended, parched with thirst, to the dining-room, about four o’clock in the morning, to seek a glass of iced-water, always to be found there, I knew, by night or day, on the sideboard, in a small silver cistern.

The dawn was dimly breaking through the great window in the hall as I passed down the broad stairway, still in my night-dress and unslippered feet; but, on approaching the dining-room, I was surprised to see the gleam of a candle falling athwart the mirror, which had been swung from its place (as I had seen it once before swung by my father), so as to screen my advancing form from the person evidently at work behind it. The massive shutters of the room were closed and securely barred, as was the habit of the house, and the room was, consequently, still in darkness, or deep shadow.

As I stood half hidden now, by the arch of the hall, behind which I shrank instinctively, and uncertain how to proceed, I saw Mr. Bainrothe suddenly emerge from behind the mirror, and take from the table near it a canvas bag, small but evidently weighty, from the manner in which he carried it to its place of concealment.

Then I heard the slow, heavy fall of a shower of gold coins, dropping on others, the same sound that had greeted my ear on the day when I first detected this treasure-cave of my father, and as different from the sound of falling silver as is the gurgling of rich old wine from the dash of crystal water.

“The wretch is faithful to his trust, after all. So this is where he keeps my gold,” I thought; “but how did he find ingress into our castle, supposed at least to be inaccessible by night? Has he a false key I wonder, and are we above-stairs, with unlocked doors, subject to his visitations, should it occur to him to make them?”

I shuddered at the suggestions of my own fancy. Women only, who have been similarly situated, can know how dark these may become, even in an innocent mind, from circumstances like those that surrounded me, and what a nameless horror there is about the insidious and licentious approaches of the man we would fain dash away from us, and trample under foot like a serpent, did we dare openly to do so.

Yet I lingered under the archway, determined to observe to the last Mr. Bainrothe’s proceedings. When he had locked the chest and replaced the mirror, which swung out from its place, as I have said, like a door on invisible hinges and fastened with a spring, he passed hastily out of the dining-room into the pantry beyond, opening for convenience on a covered paved court, which divided the kitchen from the house and which led directly into the yard beyond. After that, all was silent.

Yet, the next day, Franklin assured me that he had carried the key of the pantry away with him, when he went home at night (he was a married man, and slept at his own house usually), and that he found it locked in the morning just as he had left it.

This was in answer to a question which I tried to make as careless as possible, with regard to some burglaries that had lately been committed in a neighboring street, adding, by way of caution: “Don’t forget to lock us up carefully at night, Franklin; remember we are all women in the house, except Morton, and he is old and sleeps like a top, no doubt having a good conscience for his pillow.”

“If you would have an inside bolt put upon the pantry-door, it would be best, Miss Miriam,” he remarked; “that is, if your mind is really troubled about robbers. Then you could draw it yourself in my absence at night.”

“And who would let you in, in the morning, Franklin, if I did this? Our household would sleep until noon, were it not for your early summons, I verily believe.”

“I will throw a pebble at the cook’s window, miss, if she is not on foot by that time. But she usually is; cooks has to stir earlier than the rest, you know, by reason of the light rolls and muffins.”

“Oh, yes! true, I had forgotten this. Go at once, then, Franklin, for a smith, and let him put a massive bolt on the pantry-door, and I will be jailer of Monfort Hall in future, in your absence, for I am quite sure some one was trying that lock last night. I came to the dining-room for water just before daylight, and heard it distinctly.”

“One of your lady-like notions,” said Franklin, shaking his head, with an incredulous smile; “young ladies is always nervous like, and fearful about robbers, all but Miss Evelyn Erle I never seen the like of her, for true grit! All was safe when I came, Miss Miriam, any way, and, if robbers had been about, it stands to reason the silver chest, setting out in the pantry, would have stood a poor chance.”

Again he smiled provokingly. “There are all sorts of robbers in this world,” I said, a little sternly; “some come for one purpose, some for another. Attend to the bolt, Franklin, at once; I am very sure of what I have said.” And so the parley ended.

I am certain that Mr. Bainrothe came no more by night to his treasure-cave, but there was a mocking smile on his lip when Evelyn told him, before me, some time later, that I had caused a bolt to be placed on the pantry-door, for fear of burglars that was significant to my mind.

“What is the use of this mystery with me,” I thought, “when I alone am concerned? Why not reveal to me at once the secret of the spring and the lock, as I only am to be the beneficiary of all this gold? The man’s cunning is short-sighted. Suppose he were to die suddenly, how does he know that I would ever be the wiser or the better of these deposits? Years hence, when the house was crumbling to decay, some stranger might be enriched by this concealed gold, for aught he knows, which is legitimately mine. Evelyn, too, is in complete ignorance of this hidden chest, I am convinced, and, as far as I am concerned, will probably remain so. After all, does Bainrothe mistrust her honesty or mine? Good Heavens! what a mole the man is by nature, how darkly, deeply underhand, even in his responsibility! And there are two long years yet, nay more to wait, before I can openly defy him and put him away forever. Loathing him as I do, patience, patience! Rome was not built in a day. I shall still prevail.”

Months after this occurrence, months that passed swiftly because monotonously to me, for by events alone we are told we measure time, I was roused one night from my early slumber by the sound of bitter weeping in Evelyn’s chamber. I had left her engaged over accounts with Mr. Bainrothe, having withdrawn rather than spend a long, lonely evening in the parlor, somewhat indisposed as I felt.

I rose from my bed and went to her precipitately. I found her indulging in a passionate burst of grief, almost choking with sobs of hysterical indignation.

“All gone all gone!” she exclaimed, wildly, as I entered the room. “Your estate mine Mabel’s all swept away with one fell swoop, Miriam! The Bank of Pennsylvania has failed; it is discovered that Mr. Biddle has proved defaulter, and we are ruined!”

“I will never believe it, Evelyn!” I exclaimed, vehemently, “until he tells me so with his own lips. This is one of Mr. Bainrothe’s fictions; he is trying to wake us up a little, that is all. Mr. Biddle is the Bayard of bankers ’sans peur et sans reproche.’ As to that bank, did not my father believe it to be as indestructible as the United States, the government itself? Nay, did not Bainrothe himself do all he could to convince him of it, and induce him to invest in its stocks? The wily fox had his motive, no doubt, but it surely could not have been our ruin! Our own fortunes are too intimately involved in his prosperity for this. Besides, why have not the newspapers told us of this?”

All this time Evelyn was sobbing convulsively, and what I have told continuously here was said by me in a far more fragmentary way between her bursts of grief. She ceased now, and looked up, with some effort at calmness.

“The newspapers have been discussing it for months past, all but Mr. Biddle’s organ, and that alone was permitted to enter our doors. Mr. Bainrothe acknowledges this now. Have you not noticed the irregularity of our Washington papers?”

“No; I so rarely read them, you know.”

“Mr. Bainrothe, with mistaken charity,” she resumed, “I fear, sought to shield us as long as possible from the blow, which was inevitable sooner or later; or perhaps he hoped still for an adjustment of affairs, that might have left us a competence at least. But he was deceived, Miriam; we are worth nothing a round naught ” and she suited the action to the word by the union of the tips of her thumb and finger “is the figure whereby to describe our fortunes now; and the heiress and her once dependent friend and sister are alike beggars! All brought to one level at last there is comfort in that thought, at least! Ha! ha! ha!” and she laughed wildly, horribly. I never before heard such laughter.

“Beggary is a word I repudiate, Evelyn, in any case,” I said, firmly; “and we, it seems, if this frightful thing be true, are not alone in ruin. Be calm, dear Evelyn! Learn to bear with dignity our fate. We must sustain each other now be all in all to one another, as we have never been before. Thank God! let us both thank God, Evelyn, from our inmost hearts, that we still have this shelter and yes I have reason to believe, much more.”

And, kneeling beside her bed, I told her impulsively of our concealed treasure behind the mirror (though I had once determined never to reveal this to her or any one) treasure guarded so long by me with bolt by night and vigilance by day!

Oh, fatal error, never to be repaired or sufficiently repented of! Oh, utter misplacement of confidence, not warranted, surely, by any thing that had gone before, and the results of which I had subsequently such bitter cause to deplore!

She listened to me with an interest and zeal that were unmistakable. She sat up in her bed, with her large, blue, distended eyes fixed on mine, turning paler and paler, brighter and brighter, as she gazed, until their lustre seemed opaline rather than spiritual, and with her slender white hands wreathed together like the interlacing marble snakes in the grasp of the Laocoon, so long, and lithe, and sinuous, seemed the polished, flexile fingers. Her lips were livid, but on her cheek burned two flame-like spots, indicative ever with her of intense excitement. Surely the god Mammon has rarely possessed so sincere a worshiper! Let us do her this justice, at least. So far she was consistent; so far she was devout!’

“You are sure of the truth of what you utter, Miriam?” she questioned, eagerly.

“Sure as that I live,” I replied.

“It is wonderful! Why did he not mention this to me? I cannot conjecture his motive. But perhaps he has already removed and invested this gold, Miriam, of which you say there was such a quantity as to have represented a large portion of your landed estate, I think!”

“No, no; that is simply impossible. By night he has never done this, I know. By day he could not effect this unseen or unsuspected. That dining-room is so public, you know, that Morton sees every thing; besides, I gave him directions which he blindly obeyed, I am certain (you know his almost canine obedience to me, Evelyn), to remain, when engaged with the plate, in the adjoining pantry, with the door ajar between, and to be always on guard. Papa always allowed him the privilege of that room, and I love to continue it, you know, since we never use it except for meals. You remember I said this when you objected to his sitting there, Evelyn, and remarked that he might as well sit with the other servants, to whom he is so superior. But of late, I confess, I have had a motive, and Morton knew this” I hesitated “must have known it.”

“Do you mean to say you confided the secret of the mirror to Morton, and kept it from me? Thank you, Miriam!” loftily. “I might have expected this, however.”

“Not wholly this,” I replied, with embarrassment, for I saw how the matter looked externally. “Morton simply knew that I wanted, for purposes of my own, to exclude every one except himself from solitary possession of the dining-room as much as possible, Mr. Bainrothe especially. Yes, I told him this, but I kept papa’s secret. Believe me, Evelyn, I did this, and you know well enough what Morton’s devotion is to me not to believe that he religiously fulfilled my request without asking for an explanation.”

“Yes,” she mused, “I saw him perched up there tonight, as usual, with his old English newspapers, and I have observed that he never leaves his post there, while Mr. Bainrothe remains. You could not have procured a better watchman, surely; but why have you watched at all?”

“Because,” I said, “I felt sure that mystery lurked behind those nocturnal visits. You cannot doubt this yourself, Evelyn, and, with your opinion of Mr. Bainrothe, must see that I felt I had good reason for mistrust. I was determined to be present when that chest should next be opened by him.”

A smile quivered across her face. “I had not suspected you of so much diplomacy,” she observed, dryly; “but, after all, Miriam, how does this change the posture of affairs to me? I shall be all the same, poor and dependent.”

“No, Evelyn, no indeed! I promise you faithfully. But what is this?” I exclaimed, rising hastily from my knees, “I am faint blind! Quick, the drops Dr. Pemberton left for me, Evelyn, or I am lost again.”

I threw myself across the foot of her bed, sick and bewildered, yet feeling myself gradually after a few moments of oppression growing better, in spite of the dark effort of my evil genius to gain his fatal ascendency.

When she came with the drops, after some delay, I was, to her surprise, able to sit up and look around me. The spell was over.

“I believe I have troubled you uselessly,” I said; “I will go to bed without medicine to-night, I think, and strive to be calm, as Dr. Pemberton enjoined me to do, and there was good sense in his advice, certainly. We have so much to do to-morrow, Evelyn we two must remove these deposits ourselves. But not a word to Bainrothe!”

“Miriam,” she said, eagerly, “can you doubt my discretion when you know, too, what your own promises have been now and long ago to divide with me, ay, to the last cent, like a sister? Now, I insist on the drops! You are pale again, Miriam collapsing visibly in my sight. Do take your remedy so efficacious of late in warding off these distressing attacks. I have taken the trouble, too, to go after them. I was at some pains in hunting them up; they were not in the usual place. Come, now, as a punishment for your carelessness, I proclaim myself dictator, and command you to swallow them at once,” and she poured the medicine into a spoon.

“No, Evelyn,” I averred, putting the spoon aside, “I am better without the drops. I wish to see what my unaided will and constitution can do, this time.”

“There is too much at stake to depend on these, Miriam. We must unearth this treasure-trove to-morrow at daylight, and defeat Bainrothe on his own grounds, or he may be beforehand with us. Take your drops, dear, and have a good night’s rest, and be ready for the contest. There, now, that is a good sister,” embracing me tenderly.

Persuasion and reason accomplished with me what commands could not have done. I took the drops, went quietly to bed, and was soon lost to a sense of misfortunes, hopes, and the world itself.

I slept profoundly and long. When I awoke, the slant rays of the evening sun were pouring through the blinds of my window, in lines of moted light. Mrs. Austin was sitting close to the sash, with her invariable knitting-work, her aquiline profile and frilled cap strongly relieved against the jalousied shutters.

On the mantel-piece were the inevitable spirit-lamp and bowl of panada, recognized at once as part and parcel of my malady. In the chamber the usual smell of ether, the remedy so often ineffectually administered during the period of my lethargic attacks.

I understood everything now I had experienced another seizure, and I had lost a day.

Whether it was this conviction that cleared my brain at once of those mephitic fogs that usually clung around it after a spell of lethargy, long after my consciousness returned, I never knew, but certain it is, I sat up in my bed like one refreshed by sleep, instead of feeling exhausted, and, greatly to her surprise, accosted Mrs. Austin in clear, strong accents.

“How long have I slept? And where is Evelyn?” I asked.

“You have not opened your eyes to-day, dear child, until just this moment; and Miss Evelyn has not been able to sit up in her bed since she went to it last night, that shock yesterday overcame her so completely.” By this time she was standing by my pillow, after laying aside her knitting, in a leisurely manner peculiar to her at all seasons. “But Mabel is in the next room; let me call her to you.”

“Let her stay there,” I interrupted, in a manner so unusual with me, whose first inquiry on reviving from illness had always been for Mabel, instead of Evelyn, that Mrs. Austin looked surprised and startled.

“What ails you, Miss Miriam? I thought Mabel was always your first thought; the little angel! She has been hanging over you tearfully all day; never going near Miss Evelyn at all. It is so strange she shows such partiality!”

Strange that one being on earth, and that one my sister, should love me better than Evelyn, in the eyes of her partial affection; and yet Evelyn treated her with positive disrespect every day of her life, as I never did; and often with severity as well. It was incomprehensible!

“Give me the panada,” I said, grimly; “I am half starved, and must grow strong again to do my work. I am not nearly so weak as I usually am, though, after one of my seizures.”

“You see you are outgrowing them, as Dr. Pemberton predicted you would. I declare, you are hungry, poor child; you have not left a drop pint-bowl too with a gill of wine in it. Not going to get up, Miss Miriam? Oh, no; you must not venture to do that yet.”

And she tried gently to restrain me.

“Yes, I must get about again; I have much to do, and Evelyn must aid me, if able. Is she ill or only nervous?”

“Very ill, I think; she wrote a note to Dr. Craig and sent it last night, after you went to sleep; but he did not come.”

“Quite naturally, since he had been absent some weeks. I could have told her,” I said, sententiously; “indeed, I thought she knew it. Who carried her note?”

“Morton.”

“Poor old man! The idea of sending him on such a wild-goose chase, after night. Papa would turn in his grave could he know he had been forced out in the rain at such an hour, for a woman’s whim. I would have suffered tortures till morning first. Where was Franklin?”

“Franklin had gone home earlier than usual, and did not return to-day. He is sick with a chill, we hear, and his wife is again ill.”

“Who did the marketing?”

“Morton.”

“Morton again! Why, the old man seems to be becoming a factotum in his declining years he whose duties have always been so few, so simple! I am provoked, for some reasons, that he should have been sent away to-day. Fortunately, I bolted the pantry-door myself, before I came to bed last night,” I murmured, “and the front door is self-fastening. The house was well secured, at least, by night.”

“How long did Morton remain absent?” I asked, recommencing my system of cross-questions, very abruptly.

“About an hour, I believe; but what makes you so particular, all at once, Miss Miriam?”

“Some day you shall know, perhaps. In the mean while tell me, has Mr. Bainrothe been here to-day?”

“He called about one o’clock, but, as all were poorly, went away again without entering the house at all. I saw him go down-street, after dinner, in his phaeton, with another gentleman, and have not heard wheels since.”

“You are sure he was not here, this morning while while Morton was absent?”

“Quite sure; he breakfasted later than usual, I think, for I saw him throw open his side bedroom window at nine o’clock, and he was in his shirt-sleeves then. He sleeps in a large room in the ell, you know. I was standing at the pantry-door, and saw him distinctly, and he nodded to me, and called something, but I could not hear what it was at that distance.”

“Where was Charity at that time, Mrs. Austin?”

“Cleaning the house, Miss Miriam hard at work in the parlors, washing windows this is her cleaning-day, you know.”

“And cook, what was she about?”

“She got breakfast early, for us people, and went to mass, but was back by ten. Miss Evelyn had her breakfast after she returned, with Miss Mabel, and there was no one to eat dinner down-stairs so she thought ”

“Never mind what she thought,” I interrupted, “or who went and came, so that all be well.”

“You do ask such strange questions, this morning, Miss Miriam, and your eyes are so big! Do you feel light-headed at all after your turn maybe you have fever?”

“Not at all hard-headed, rather, Mrs. Austin not even heavy-headed though leaden-hearted enough, God knows! We are ruined, you know or at least Evelyn tells me so. The rest I have still to learn I must see Mr. Bainrothe this evening. There is a positive necessity for me to exert myself now, but first I have some examinations to make. Give me a shawl and wrapper, good nurse, and my slippers. Don’t disturb Evelyn, or call Mabel till my return; and stay where you are until then, if you wish to serve me.”

I sped rapidly down-stairs, and entered the dining-room so noiselessly that old Morton, who was a “little thick of hearing,” did not hear my steps nor move from his position by the fire, where he sat apparently absorbed by his newspapers. “Morton,” I said, and laid my quivering hand upon his arm, “the time has come to act. Come help me to secure my treasure.” He rose silently to obey me.

I touched the spring of the mirror; it swung silently open, and revealed to the astonished old man a square niche built in the wall unsuspected before by him in which fitted an iron chest, the existence of which he had never dreamed of until now. But the contents were gone gone since yesterday! The chest was empty, with its lid propped open. There was not even a paper within.

With a bitter groan I tottered back against the wall, while the cold dew stood on my brow, and my limbs trembled under me. This was indeed despair!

“What ails you, Miss Miriam?” he asked, with an expression of anguish upon his kind, old, quivering face. “Do you miss any thing what have you lost, Miss Miriam?”

“You left your post, Morton,” I said, at last, “and this is the consequence I have lost every thing! Old man! old friend! did you think I charged you to watch every one who came, so earnestly, to stay here so constantly, without a good and sufficient reason? Some one has been here before us my gold is gone! we are ruined, Morton!”