"An' sure, didn't I do it? Didn't I pallaber till my t'roat was sore? And didn't poor Jim and Sally pallaber till deir t'roats was sore? And didn't all t'ree of us pallaber togeder till we mos' wore out our tongues? Didn't do no good, dough! 'Cause you see, de people here is sich barbariums dat dey cannot unnerstan' one word o' good Christian talk."

"And if they had understood you, Katie, as some of them probably did, it would not have served you; your unsupported words would have never been taken. As you are aware, my dear judge, if you will take time to reflect," added Ishmael, turning to Judge Merlin,

"Certainly, certainly," replied the latter.

"But, Katie, you mentioned Sally and Jim. Is it possible that they also were kidnaped?" inquired Ishmael.

"You better beliebe it, honey! 'Cause it's true as gospel, chile! Now I gwine to tell you all about it. One o' de fust tings I t'ought when I woke up and stared around to find myself aboard dat vessel on de water, was dat I had died in dat cell and dat de angels was a- takin' my soul across de Riber ob Jordan to the City ob de New Jerusalem 'cordin' to de Scriptur'. On'y you see, chile, I wasn't dat downright sure and sartain as I myse'f was a saint prepared for hebben; nor likewise did de man as sat smoking and drinking at de table look like the chief ob de angels."

"In what part of the ship were you when you recovered your consciousness?" inquired Ishmael, who wished to have a clear idea of the "situation."

"In de cap'n's cabin, Marse Ishmael. And dat was de cap'n, dough I didn't know who he was, nor where I was, at de time. So I up and ax him:

"'Please, marster, if you please, sir, to tell me is I to go to hebben or t'other place?'

"'Oh! you've come to, have you?' says he, and he takes a pipe from de table and he whistles.

"And den a bad-lookin' man comes down. And says de captain to him:

"'Jack, bundle dis 'oman out'n here and put her into the steerage.'

"And de ill-lookin' man he says to me:

"'Come along, blacky!'

"And so I up and followed him to de deck, 'cause why not? What was de use o' resistin'? 'Sides which, I t'ought by going farder I might fine out more. And sure 'nough so I did! for soon as ebber I got on deck, de fuss person I see was Jim. Which soon as ebber I see him, and he see me, he run, de poor boy, and cotch me 'round de neck, and hugged and kissed me, and said says he:

"'Oh, my mammy! is dis you?'

"And says I:

"'Yes, Jim, it's me! I died down dere, in a wault, in de bottom o' de castle. When did you die, Jim?'

"'Am I dead, mammy?' says he.

"'Why, to be sure you are,' says I, 'else how you come here?'

"'And dat's true enough,' says he. 'On'y I didn't know I was dead till you told me, mammy. Well, if I'm dead, I s'pose I must 'a' died sudden. Cause I know I was well and hearty enough; on'y dat I was troubled 'bout you, mammy; and I went to sleep in my bed and when I waked up I was here.'

"Well, while Jim was talkin' I heerd de man, Jack, say:

"'Go along den, you cuss! dere's your frien's.'

"And I looked up and dere he was a-pushing Sally along towards us!

"'And, oh, Sally,' says I, 'are you dead too?'

"'No, Aunt Katie, I aint dead; but I'm stole! And I s'pects you all is too!' And den she boo-hoo-ed right out.

"'Sally,' says I, 'you is dead!'

"'No, I aint, Aunt Katie, I's stole!' she said, crying as if her heart would break.

"'Sally,' says I, 'you's dead! Now don't 'ny it! 'Cause what would be de use? For if you aint dead, how came you here?'

"'I know how I come here well enough. I was stole out'n my bed and brought here. And my lordship help de t'ieves to steal me. I saw him.'

"'Mammy,' says Jim, 'I reckon Sally's in de right ob it. And 'deed I hopes she is; 'cause you see if she aint dead, why no more are we; and if she was stole, why, it's like as we was too!' And den turnin' round to Sally, he says, says he:

"'Sally, tell us what happened to you.'

"So Sally she told us how she hadn't been able to sleep de night afore; and how towards mornin' she t'ought she would get up and dress herse'f. And jus' as she was a-puttin' on her shoes, all ob a sudden de door opens and in walks my lordship, follyed by two men! which she was so 'stonished she could do nothing but stare, 'till my lordship sprung at her t'roat and put somefing to her nose, as made her faint away. Which ob course it mus' a been chloe-fawn."

"Of course," said Ishmael; "but go on with your statement."

"Well, and Sally tole me how, when she come to herself, she was in dis wessel. But she says she wasn't 'ceived one bit. She 'membered eberyting. And she could swear to de men as stole her, which dey was my lordship—and a perty lordship he is!—and de captain o' de wessel and de fust mate."

"Sally will be a most invaluable witness against those felons Judge Merlin, if she can be found and taken to England," whispered Ishmael.

The old man nodded assent. And Katie continued:

"Well, childun, afore I heerd Sally's 'scription o' how dey sarved her, I could a sword as we was all dead, and on our woyage cross de riber of Jordan. But arter dat I was open to conwiction; which you know, Marse Ishmael, I was allers ob a lib'ral, 'lightened turn o' mind! And so I gib in as we was all alibe."

"Well, and what then, Katie? How did you reconcile yourself to your lot?"

"Well, Marse Ishmael, you know how it is wid us poor cullered folks, as can't eben call our childun our own? Well, seeing as we was in de hand o' de spoiler, we laid low and said nothin'. What would a been de use o' makin' a fuss dere? We couldn't get out'n de wessel if dey'd let us, 'less we had gone inter de water. So we 'signed ourselves to carcumstances and did de bes' we could till we arribed out here to dese Wes' Stingy Islands and was put up for sale. Den we spoke; but we might jus' as well a held our tongues; for as I telled you afore, dese barbariums don't unnerstan' one blessed word o' good Christian talk. And so, Marse Ishmael, spite o' all we could say, poor Jim was knocked down to a sinner-done as libe in de country, which sinner-done took him off dere. And Sally she was sole to a sinner-done as libs near de Captain General's palace. Dese barbariums calls all de ladies and gemmen sinner-dones an' sinner- doners. And I was give away to a 'fernal low shopkeeper near de quays."

"Now, Judge Merlin," said Ishmael, "that we have heard her story, we must take very prompt measures."

"What would you do, Ishmael?"

For all answer, Ishmael rang the bell and ordered a carriage to be brought to the door immediately. That done, he turned to the judge and said:

"We must take Katie with us, ask Mr. Brudenell to accompany us, and drive first to the office of our consul. We shall require official assistance in the recovery of these servants. We must be quick, for we must get all this business settled in time for the sailing of the 'Cadiz,' in which we must return to England, and take these negroes with us. We must at any cost; even if we have to purchase them back at double the money for which they were sold. For you see that their testimony is all we require to overthrow Lord Vincent and vindicate his wife."

"Oh, the infernal villain! Do you think, Ishmael, that I shall be contented with simply overthrowing him in the divorce court? No! By all that is most sacred, I will kill him!" thundered the judge.

"We will not have any divorce trial," said Ishmael firmly. "We will not have your daughter's pure name dragged through the mire of a divorce court; we will have Lord Vincent and his accomplices arrested and tried; the valet for murder, and the viscount and the opera singer for conspiracy and kidnaping. We have proof enough to convict them all; the valet will be hanged; and the viscount and the opera singer sentenced to penal servitude for many years. Will not that be sufficient punishment for the conspirators. And is it not better that the law should deal out retributive justice to them, than that you should execute unlawful vengeance?" inquired the young man.

"But my daughter! My daughter!"

"Your daughter shall be restored to you; her dower recovered; her name preserved; and her honor perfectly, triumphantly vindicated."



CHAPTER XXXVI.

ON THE VISCOUNTS TRACK.

Vengeance to God alone belongs; But when I think of all my wrongs My blood is liquid flame! —Marmion.



While Ishmael and Judge Merlin still conversed the carriage was announced. A message was dispatched to Mr. Brudenell; but the messenger returned with the news that the gentleman had gone out.

Therefore Ishmael and the judge, taking Katie with them, entered the carriage and gave the order to be driven to the American consul's office.

The way was long, the carriage slow, and the judge boiling over with rage and impatience.

It was well for Judge Merlin that he had Ishmael Worth beside him to restrain his passion and guide his actions.

During the ride the young lawyer said:

"In conducting this affair, Judge Merlin, Lady Vincent's welfare must be our very first consideration."

"Oh, yes, yes!"

"To do her any good we must act with promptitude."

"Of course."

"But to act with promptitude, great sacrifices must be made."

"What sacrifices?"

"In the first place, you must lay aside your desire for vengeance upon the villainous kidnapers who brought your old servants here and sold them."

"Ah, but, Ishmael, I cannot bear to let them go unpunished."

"Believe me, no crime ever goes unpunished. These men, sooner or later, will be brought to justice. But if you attempt to prosecute them, you will be detained here for days, weeks, and perhaps even months. For, once having laid so grave a charge against any man, or set of men, you would be compelled to remain as a prosecuting witness against them. And the delay would be almost fatal to Lady Vincent, suffering as she must be the most extreme agony of suspense."

"I see! I see! Poor Claudia! she must be my only thought! I must leave the smuggler to the justice of Heaven. But it is a sacrifice, Ishmael."

"A necessary one, sir; but there is still another that you must make in order to hasten to the rescue of Lady Vincent."

"And that?"

"Is the sacrifice of a large sum of money. A large sum, even for a man of fortune like yourself, judge."

"And that fortune is not nearly so considerable as it is supposed to be, Ishmael. When I had paid over my daughter's dower, I left myself but a moderate independence."

"Nevertheless, judge, if it should take the whole of your funded property, you will gladly devote it to the vindication of your daughter's honor. We must be in England with our witnesses in time to arrest Lord Vincent and his accomplices before he has an opportunity of bringing on the divorce suit."

"Certainly."

"To do this you will have to expend a large sum of money in the repurchasing of the negroes; for you must be aware that their present owners, having bought them in good faith, will not relinquish them without a struggle, which would involve you in a long lawsuit, the issue of which would be very doubtful; for you must be aware that there are many knotty points in this case. Now, I put the question to you, whether you can, with safety to Lady Vincent, remain here for weeks or months, either as prosecutor in the criminal trial of the smugglers or as plaintiff in a civil suit with the purchasers of Lady Vincent's servants?"

"I cannot."

"Then do not attempt either to punish the kidnapers or wrest the slaves from the hands of their present owners. Our plan will be simply this: Take the consul with us to identify us, go to these owners, explain the facts, and offer to repurchase the negroes at once. They will, no doubt, gladly come to terms, rather than risk a lawsuit in which they would probably lose their purchase-money."

"I see. Yes, Ishmael. You are wise and right, as you always are," said the judge, with an air of conviction.

"All this business may be arranged in time for us to take passage on the 'Cadiz,' that sails on Saturday. Now, here we are at the consul's office," said Ishmael, as the carriage stopped at the door of the American consulate.

Leaving Katie in the carriage they alighted and entered. The consul was engaged, so that they were detained in the anteroom nearly half an hour; at the end of which four or five gentlemen were seen to issue from the inner room, and then the doorkeeper, with a bow, invited Judge Merlin's party to pass in.

Philip Tourneysee, the American consul for Havana at that time, was the eldest son of that General Tourneysee whom the reader has already met at the house of Judge Merlin in Washington. He had sought his present appointment because a residence in the West Indies had been recommended for his health. He was a slight, elegant, refined-looking man, with a clear complexion, bright auburn hair, and dark hazel eyes. The fine expression of his countenance alone redeemed it from effeminacy.

On seeing Judge Merlin enter with his party he arose smilingly to receive them.

"You are surprised to see me here again so soon, Philip," said the judge, as he seated himself in the chair placed for him by the consul.

"I cannot see you too often, judge," was the courteous answer.

"Hem! This is my friend, Mr. Worth, of the Washington bar. Mr. Worth, Mr. Tourneysee, our consul for the port of Havana," said the judge, with all his old-fashioned formality.

The gentlemen thus introduced bowed, and the consul offered a chair to his second visitor and then seated himself and looked attentive.

"We have come about the most awkward business that ever was taken in hand," said the judge; "the strangest and most infamous, also, that ever came before a criminal tribunal. But let that pass. What would you say, for instance, to the fact of an English nobleman turning slave-trader—and not only slave-trader, but slave-stealer?"

The consul looked perplexed and incredulous.

"I will tell you all about it," said the judge, who immediately commenced and related to the astonished consul the history of the abduction and sale of the three negroes by Lord Vincent, and their subsequent transportation to Cuba and second sale at Havana by the smugglers.

"You will, of course, cause instant search to be made for the guilty parties, and I will certainly give you every assistance in my power, both in my public capacity and as your private friend. We will go to work at once," said the consul warmly, placing his hand upon the bell.

"No," said the judge, arresting his motion. "I have consulted with my friend and counsel, Mr. Worth, and we have decided that the smugglers, who are, after all, but the subordinates in this guilty confederacy, must go unpursued and unpunished for the present."

"How?" inquired the consul, turning to Ishmael, as if he doubted his own ears.

"Yes, sir," said Ishmael calmly, "circumstances into which it is not necessary that we should now enter, render it absolutely necessary that we should be in England as soon as possible. It is equally necessary that we should take the negroes with us, not only as witnesses against their first abductor as to the fact of the abduction, but also as to other transactions of which they were cognizant previous to that event. We must therefore avoid lawsuits which would be likely to detain us here. We cannot delay our departure either to prosecute the smugglers for kidnaping, or to sue the purchasers for the recovery of the negroes. We must leave the smugglers to the retribution of Providence, and we must pay the purchasers for the negroes we wish to carry away with us. What, therefore, we would ask of your kindness is this—that you will go with us to the purchasers of these negroes and identify us, so as to smooth the way for a negotiation of our difficulties."

"Certainly, certainly. Let me see. I have an appointment here at two o'clock, but at three I will join you at any place you may name."

"Would our hotel be a convenient rendezvous for you?"

"Perfectly."

"Then we will detain you no longer," said Ishmael, rising.

The judge followed his example.

And both gentlemen shook hands with the consul and departed.

"I think," said Ishmael, as they took their seats in the carriage, "that we should take Katie immediately back to her owner. I understand from her that he is a man in the humbler walks of life, and therefore I think that he might be willing to close with us for a liberal advance upon the price paid the smuggler."

"Do so, if you please, Ishmael; I trust entirely to your discretion," answered the judge.

"Katie," said Ishmael to the old woman, who had never left the carriage, "can you direct us the way to find the man who bought you?"

"Not to save my precious life, couldn't I, honey. Because you see, I nebber can t'ink o' de barbareous names dey has to de streets in dis outlan'ish place. But I knows where I is well 'nough. An' I knows where it is—de shop, I mean. And so if you'll put me up alongside ob de driver I can point him which way to go an' where to stop," said Katie.

This proposition was agreed to. The carriage was stopped and Katie was let out and enthroned upon the seat beside the coachman, a Spaniard, whom she proceeded to direct more by signs and gestures than by words.

After a very circuitous route through the city they turned into a narrow street and stopped before a house partly confectionery and partly tobacco shop.

They alighted and went in, and found the proprietor doing duty behind his counter.

The study of the Spanish language had been one of the few recreations Ishmael had allowed himself in his self-denying youth. He had afterwards improved his opportunities by speaking the language with such Spaniards as he met in society in Washington. He therefore now addressed the tobacconist in that tongue, and proceeded to explain the business that brought himself and his friend to the shop.

The tobacconist, who was the ordinary, small, lean, yellow specimen of the middle class of Cubans, courteously invited the "senors" into the back parlor, where they all seated themselves and entered more fully into the subject, Ishmael acting as interpreter between the judge and the tobacconist, whose name they discovered to be Marinello.

Marinello expressed himself very much shocked to find that his purchase of the woman was illegal, if not positively felonious; and that an appeal to the law would probably deprive him of his bargain, and possibly criminate him as the accomplice of the slave stealer.

He said that he had given eight hundred dollars for the woman Katie, who had been extolled by the trader as a most extraordinary cook. And a "most extraordinary" one, he declared, he found her to be, for she did not appear to know beef from mutton or rice from coffee. And in fact she was good for nothing; for even if he sent her on an errand, as on this occasion, she would stay forever and one day after, and charge her sloth upon her infirmities. She had been a bitter bargain to him.

Judge Merlin smiled; he knew Katie to be one of the best cooks in this world and to be in the enjoyment of perfect health, and so he supposed that the cunning old woman had taken a lesson from the sailor's monkey, who could talk, but wouldn't, for fear he should be made to work. And that she had feigned her ignorance and ill health to escape hard labor for one who she knew could have no just claim to her services.

Ishmael, speaking for Judge Merlin, now explained to the tobacconist that this woman Katie had been a great favorite with the mistress from whom she was stolen; that they were on their way to see that lady, that they wished to take the woman with them; that they would rather repurchase her than lose time by suing to recover her; and finally, that they were willing to give him back the money that he had paid for Katie, provided that he would deliver her up to them at once.

Marinello immediately came to terms and agreed to all they proposed. He accompanied them back to the hotel, where he received eight hundred dollars and left Katie.

"That is a 'feat accomplished,'" said Ishmael gayly, as he returned to Judge Merlin's room, after seeing Marinello out; "and now we may expect Mr. Tourneysee every moment."

And in fact while he spoke the door was opened and Mr. Tourneysee was announced.

"I am up to time," he said, smiling, as he entered.

"With dramatic punctuality," said Ishmael, pointing to the clock on the mantel-piece, which was upon the stroke of three.

"Yes," said the consul, smiling.

"We have done a good stroke of business since we left you. We have bought Katie back from her new master at the same price he gave for her, and he was very glad to get out of the affair so happily," said Ishmael.

"Ah! that was prompt indeed. I wish you equal good speed with the other purchasers of stolen slaves. By the way, where do we go first?"

"I think we had best call on the lady who bought the girl Sally; from her—Sally, I mean—we might learn the name and residence of the gentleman who bought Jim, and of which we are at present in ignorance."

"Who is the lady, and where does she live?"

"We do not know her name either; Katie could not tell us; but she lives in the city, and Katie can direct the coachman where to drive. And now as the carriage is at the door, I think we had better start at once."

"I think so, too," said the judge.

And accordingly the whole party went downstairs and re-entered the carriage, with the exception of Katie, who again mounted the box beside the driver for the purpose of directing him.

Katie, who could not, if it were to save her life, remember the name of any place or person in that "barbareous" land, as she called it, yet possessed the canine memory of localities; so she directed the coachman through the shortest cut of the city towards the beautiful suburb Guadaloupe, and then to an elegant mansion of white granite, standing within its own luxuriant grounds.

On seeing the carriage draw up and stop before the gate of this aristocratic residence, the young consul suddenly changed color and said:

"This is the palace of the Senora Donna Eleanora Pacheco, Countess de la Santa Cruz."

"You know this lady?" inquired the judge.

Mr. Tourneysee bowed.

The porter threw open the great gate, and the carriage rolled along a lovely shaded avenue, up before the white marble facade of the palace, where it stopped.

"If you please, I will send your cards in with my own. As I am known to the senora, it may insure you a speedier audience."

"We thank you very much," said Ishmael, placing his own and the judge's cards in the hands of the consul, who alighted, went up the marble steps to the front door, and rang.

A footman opened the door, took in the cards, and after a few moments returned.

"The countess will see the senors," was the message that the consul smilingly brought back to his friends in the carriage.

Then all alighted and went into the house.

The same footman, a jet black young negro, in gorgeous livery of purple and gold, led them into a small, elegantly furnished reception room, where, seated on a sofa, and toying with a fan, was one of the loveliest little dark-eyed Creoles that ever was seen.

She did not rise, but extended her hand with a graceful gesture and gracious smile to welcome her visitors.

Tourneysee advanced, with a deep and reverential bow, that would have done honor to the gravest and most courteous hidalgo of that grave and courteous people.

"Senora," he said, with great formality, "I have the honor to present to your ladyship Chief Justice Merlin, of the United States Supreme Court. Judge Merlin, the Countess de la Santa Cruz."

The judge made a profound bow, which the lady acknowledged by a gracious bend of the head.

With the same serious and stately formality, which was certainly not natural to the young Marylander, but which was assumed, in deference to the grave character of Spanish etiquette, Mr. Tourneysee next presented:

"Mr. Worth, of the Washington bar."

The low obeisance of this visitor was received with even a more gracious smile than had been vouchsafed to that of the judge.

When they were seated, in accordance with the lady's invitation, the conversation turned upon the ordinary topics of the day: the weather; the opera; the last drawing room at the Government Palace; the new Captain General and his beautiful bride, etc., etc., etc.

The judge fidgeted; Ishmael was impatient; the consul perplexed. It was necessary to speak of the affair that brought them there. Yet how was it possible without offense to introduce any topic of business in that bower of beauty, to that indolent Venus, whose only occupation was to toy with her fan; whose only conversation was of sunshine, flowers, music, balls, and brides?

Clearly neither the judge nor the consul had the courage to obtrude any serious subject upon her. The disagreeable task was at length assumed by Ishmael, who never permitted himself to shrink from a duty merely because it was an unpleasant one.

Taking advantage, therefore, of a break in the conversation, he turned to the lady and, speaking with grave courtesy, said:

"Will the senora pardon me for beseeching her attention to an affair of great moment which has brought us to her presence?"

The "senora" lifted her long, curled lashes until they touched her brows, and opened wide her large, soft, dark eyes in childish wonder. "An affair of great moment!" What could it be? A masked ball? a parlor concert? private theatricals? a—what? She could not imagine. Dropping her eyelids demurely, she answered softly:

"Proceed, senor."

Ishmael then briefly explained to her the business upon which they had come.

The senora was as sensible as she was beautiful, and as benevolent as she was sensible. She listened to the story of the negroes' abduction with as much sympathy as curiosity, and at the end of the narrative she exclaimed:

"What villains there are in this world!"

Ishmael then delicately referred to their wish to purchase the girl Sally.

The senora promptly assented to the implied desire.

"It was my steward, Miguel Manello, who bought her for me. I did not particularly want her. And I find her of very little use to me. She cannot understand one word that is said to her. And she does nothing from morning until night but weep, weep, weep tears enough to float away the house."

"Poor girl!" muttered Ishmael.

"So if the senor wishes to recover her he can take her now, or at any time."

Ishmael delicately hinted at the purchase money.

"Oh, I know nothing about such matters. I will send my steward to wait on the senor at his hotel this evening. The senor can then arrange the matter with him."

Ishmael expressed his thanks, arose, and bowed as if to take leave. But the lady waved her hand, and said in a sweet but peremptory manner:

"Be seated, senor."

With another inclination of the head, Ishmael resumed his seat. The lady rang a silver bell that stood on a stand at his right hand and brought to her presence the gorgeous, sable footman.

"Serve the senors with refreshments," was the order given and promptly obeyed.

An elegant little repast was set before them, consisting of delicious coffee, chocolate, fresh fruits, cakes, and sweetmeats. And only when they had done full justice to these delicacies would their hostess permit them to retire.

Again Ishmael bowed with profound deference, expressed his thanks on the part of himself and his friends, and finally took leave.

On going from the room they noticed a person, who, from the extreme quietness of her manner, had escaped their observation until this moment. She was a woman of about sixty years of age, clad in the habit of a lay-sister of the Benedictine Order, and seated within a curtained recess, and engaged in reading her "office." She was probably doing duty as duenna to the beautiful widow.



CHAPTER XXXVII.

STILL ON THE TRACK.

One sole desire, one passion now remains, To keep life's fever still within his veins,— Vengeance! Dire vengeance on the wretch who cast On him and all he loved that ruinous blast. —Moore.



Our party drove back to the hotel to await the coming of the steward with Sally. Mr. Brudenell had not yet returned.

Ishmael sent for the clerk of the house and bespoke proper accommodations for the servants.

But Katie rebelled, and protested that she would not leave her old master until bedtime, when she should insist upon his locking her in her bedroom and taking charge of the key, for fear she should be bewitched and stolen again.

At about six o'clock Miguel Manello arrived, having Sally in charge. According to instructions left with the waiters they were immediately shown up to the apartments of Judge Merlin.

Miguel Manello, a little, dried-up, mahogany-colored old man with blue-gray hair, came in, bowing profoundly.

Sally followed him, but suddenly stopped, opened her mouth and eyes as wide as they could be extended, and stood dumb with astonishment.

As she could not speak a word of Spanish, nor the steward of English, she could not be made to understand where he was bringing her. So she had not the remotest suspicion that she was approaching her master until she actually stood in his presence. Astonishment makes people break into exclamations; but Sally it always struck speechless. So it had been with her when the viscount and his accomplices entered her room that night of the abduction. So it was with her now that she was brought unexpectedly to the presence of the beloved old master whom she had never hoped to see again on this side of the grave.

How long she might have remained standing there, dumfounded, had she not been interrupted, is not known; for old Katie made a dash forward, caught her in an embrace, kissed her, burst into tears, and said:

"Oh, Sally, it is all come right! Ole marster done come here and he gwine to buy us all back and take us to my ladyship, and we gwine be witness ag'in my lordship and de shamvally—which I hopes dey'll be hung, and likewise de whited saltpeter as is de wuss ob de t'ree!"

The tears began to steal down poor Sally's cheeks and she looked appealingly from old Katie to Judge Merlin and Ishmael, as if to entreat confirmation of the good news.

"It is all quite true, Sally. You are to return to England with us, and then, I hope, we shall all come back to old Maryland, never to leave it again," said Ishmael.

"Oh, Marse Ishmael, dat would be like coming out'n purgatory into heaben! Thank de Lord!" fervently exclaimed the girl, while tears— tears of joy—now streamed down her cheeks.

"There, now, Sally; go with your aunty into the next room, and have a glorious old talk, while we settle some business with the steward," said Ishmael, pointing to the door of the anteroom.

When they had retired he beckoned the steward to approach. Miguel Manello advanced with a series of genuflexions, and laid upon the table a document which proved to be a bill of sale for the girl, Sally.

"The senor will perceive," he said, "that I paid the trader twelve hundred dollars for the negress. My mistress, the Senora Donna Eleanora Pacheco, has instructed me to deliver the girl up to the senor at his own price. But the senor will not, perhaps, object to paying the same sum I paid for the girl."

"Certainly not," answered Ishmael.

Judge Merlin produced the money, and the sale was immediately effected. The steward took up his hat to depart, but Ishmael made a sign for him to stop.

"You were present at the sale of this girl?"

"Assuredly, senor; since I purchased her."

"There was an old woman sold at the same time?"

"Yes, senor; the one that I found in here."

"Exactly. There was also a young man?"

"Yes, senor."

"Can you tell me who became his purchaser?"

"Certainly, senor. He was bought by the Senor Don Filipo Martinez, who lives in the Suburb Regla."

"Can you give me directions how to find the place?"

"Certainly, senor. I will write it down, if the senor will permit me the use of his writing-case."

Ishmael placed a chair at the table, and signed for the steward to take it. Miguel Manello sat down, wrote out the directions, handed them to Ishmael, and then with a deep bow took his leave.

When they were alone Ishmael said:

"The Suburb Regla is on the other side of the harbor. We cannot with propriety visit it this evening. In the morning we will set out early. We must either make a long circuit by land, or else take the shorter cut across the harbor. I think the last mentioned the best plan."

"I agree with you," said the judge; "but I fear we are greatly trespassing on the time and the official duties of our friend," he added, turning with a smile to the consul.

"Oh, not at all! I am sufficiently attentive to my business to afford to take a day now and then, when necessity demands it," replied Mr. Tourneysee pleasantly, as he arose and bid his friends good-evening.

He had scarcely left the scene when the door opened and the truant, Herman Brudenell, entered.

"You are a pretty fellow to back your friends. Here we have been overwhelmed with business and beset with adventures, and you gone!" exclaimed the judge, whose spirits were much elated with the successes of the day. "Give an account of yourself, sir!" he added.

"Well," said Mr. Brudenell, throwing himself into a chair and setting his hat upon the table with a wearied, but cheerful air, "I have been walking around the city to see all that was interesting in it. I visited the cathedral, where the ashes of Columbus repose; saw the Government Palace; the Admiralty; the Royal Tobacco Factory; several interesting old churches, and so forth. Last of all, I ran up against a very dear friend of mine, whose acquaintance I made at the court of Queen Isabella when I was at Madrid, some years ago. And Don Filipo insisted on my returning home with him to the Suburb Regla, where he has a beautiful house standing in the midst of equally beautiful grounds. Well, I dined there; and I got away as soon after dinner as I decently could."

"'Don Filipo? Suburb Regla?'" repeated Judge Merlin, as his thoughts ran upon the purchaser of the negro boy Jim.

"Yes. Do you know him? Senor Don Filipo Martinez—"

"No, not personally; we have heard of him, though. Sit still, Brudenell, I have got something to tell you. We have met some old acquaintances also since you left us," said the judge.

"Ah, who are they? The Tourneysees, I presume."

"We have met the Tourneysees of course; but we have met others."

"Then you will have to tell me, judge, for I should never be able to guess among your thousands of friends and acquaintances who were the individuals encountered here."

"What would you say to me if I should tell you that Ishmael met our old Katie in the street and brought her hither?"

"I should say that you or I were mad or dreaming," said Mr. Brudenell, staring at the judge.

"And yet I tell you the sober truth. That infamous villain, Malcolm, Lord Vincent, taking advantage of the opportunities afforded by his residence on a remote part of the sea coast, and his connection with a crew of smugglers, actually succeeded in kidnaping Lady Vincent's three servants and selling them to the trader, who brought them to this island and sold them again."

"Am I awake?" exclaimed Mr. Brudenell, in amazement.

"As much as any of us, I suppose. There are times when I fancy myself in a strange dream."

"What could have been the man's motive for such a crime?"

"Partly, no doubt, cupidity; for he is as mean as marsh mud! partly revenge; for he hates these negroes for their devotion to their mistress; but mostly caution; for one of these negroes became possessed of a secret compromising the reputation, and even the personal liberty of the viscount."

"Good Heavens! I never heard of such a transaction in all my life. Do give me the particulars of this affair."

"By and by. Just now I must tell you that, with the aid of our consul, who has just left us, we have ferreted out the purchasers of the negroes, and we have just repurchased two of them—old Katie and Sally; who are at this present moment in the next room, enjoying their reunion."

"But—why the deuce did you repurchase these negroes, when, by appealing to the law, and proving their felonious abduction and illegal sale, you might have recovered possession of them without paying a dollar?"

"Yes, I might; but then again I mightn't, as the children say. In the first impetuosity of my anger, at discovering these crimes, I would have instantly sued for the recovery of the negroes, and sought out and prosecuted the traders, had it not been for Ishmael. God bless that young man, how much I owe him! He interposed his warning voice and wise counsels. He indicated several questionable features in the case, that would make the issue of any lawsuit that I might bring for the recovery of the negroes very uncertain. He reminded me that if I involved myself in any lawsuit, either civil or criminal, it would detain me on the island for weeks or months, while it is of the utmost importance that I should be at the side of my injured child. I could but acknowledge the truth and justice of his argument, and therefore I have, at some sacrifice of money and temper, repurchased the negroes."

"And looking at the affair from Ishmael's point of view, I think you have done quite right, sir," said Mr. Brudenell.

"And there is another consideration," put in Ishmael. "Judge Merlin mentioned to you, as one of the motives that instigated Vincent to the perpetration of the crime, the fear of the negroes, who had become possessed of a secret involving the liberty of the viscount. This secret was neither more nor less than the knowledge of a conspiracy formed by the viscount and two of his accomplices against the honor of Lady Vincent. Thus, you see, it is absolutely necessary that these negroes should be taken to England without delay as witnesses—"

"In the divorce trial, certainly."

"No; not in the divorce trial; though their testimony in such a trial would be conclusive for the lady. But we wish, if possible, to prevent the divorce trial. We will not have the daughter of Randolph Merlin assailed in such unseemly manner. No woman, however innocent she may be, comes out unscarred from such a struggle; for the simple reason that the bare fact of such a suit having brought against her attaches a life-long reproach to her."

"There is truth in what you say, Ishmael, but I do not see how the trial is to be avoided, since Lord Vincent is determined to sue for a dissolution of his marriage."

"In this way, sir. By placing Lord Vincent hors-du-combat at the very onset. When we reach Edinboro' our first visit will be to a magistrate's office, where we will lodge information and cause warrants to be issued for the arrest of Lord Vincent and his accomplices upon the charge of conspiracy and kidnaping. Do you suppose that Lord Vincent, lodged in jail and awaiting his trial for abduction and conspiracy, will be in a condition to prosecute his suit for divorce?"

"Certainly not. I see that you are right, Ishmael. But poor Claudia! In any case, how she must suffer."

"Heaven comfort her! Yes. But we chose the least of two evils for her. Delivered from the fiend who has tormented her for so long a time, and restored to her native country and to the bosom of her family, we will hope that Lady Vincent's youth will enable her to rally from the depressing influences of these early troubles, and that she will yet regain her peace and cheerfulness."

"Heaven grant it, Heaven grant it!" said the judge fervently. "Oh, Ishmael," he continued, "when I think that I shall have my child back again, I almost feel reconciled to the storm of sorrow that must drive her for shelter into my arms. Is that selfish? I do not know. But I do know that I shall love her more, indulge her more than I ever did before. She must, she shall be, satisfied and happy with me."

Ishmael pressed his hand in silent sympathy, and then to divert his thoughts from a subject fraught with so much emotion he said:

"It occurs to me, judge, to say that Mr. Brudenell will probably be able very much to facilitate our negotiations with his friend, Don Filipo."

"Yes, I should think he would," replied the judge, with difficulty tearing his thoughts from the image of his daughter restored to his home, sitting by his fireside, or at the head of the table; "yes, I should think Brudenell would be able to smooth our way in that quarter."

"What is that, Ishmael? What are you both talking of in connection with myself and friend?" demanded Mr. Brudenell.

"Why, sir, your friend, Senor Don Filipo Martinez, is just precisely the same gentleman who became the purchaser of the boy Jim. We intend to pay him a visit to-morrow, for the purpose of trying to repurchase the boy. It is rather a delicate matter to propose to a Spanish hidalgo; and therefore we feel very much pleased to find that he is a friend of yours, and we hope that your introduction will recommend us to a favorable hearing."

"Certainly, I will go with you and introduce you. But I do not think your cause needs my advocacy; and I am very much mistaken in my estimation of Don Filipo's character, if when he has heard all the facts he does not at once deliver the negro boy into your hands and decline to accept any payment."

"But to that I would never consent," said the judge.

"I do not see how you can help it, if you cannot get your witness on any other terms. Don Filipo is a Spanish nobleman; he has high ideas of honor. The manner in which he will look upon this affair will be probably this—he will see that he has been deceived into the purchase of stolen property, and into a sort of unconscious complicity with the thieves. He will drop the property 'like a hot potato,' as the Irish say. In other words, he would consider his honor ineffaceably stained by either keeping the boy on the one hand or receiving any payment on the other. Don Filipo would lose ten times the amount of the purchase money rather than suffer the shadow of a shade of reproach to rest for one instant on his 'scutcheon."

"I think if it is as Mr. Brudenell says, judge, that you had better not make any difficulty about this 'point of honor' with the Senor Don Filipo. Get the negro back on his own terms. Afterwards, when you reach England you can easily and delicately remunerate him by sending him a complimentary present of equal or greater value than the purchase money he refuses, supposing that he does refuse it," said Ishmael.

"He will refuse it," persisted Mr. Brudenell.

"That will do, Ishmael. You have shown me a way out of this difficulty. And now suppose we ring for supper? We have had nothing since breakfast except the light repast set before us by the Senora Donna—et cetera."

Ishmael touched the bell, which brought up a waiter. Judge Merlin ordered supper to be served immediately. When it was ready he called in Katie and Sally to wait on the table—to remind him of old times, he said.

After supper he sent for the housekeeper and gave his two female servants into her charge, requesting her to see that their wants were supplied. And Katie, now that she had Sally with her, went away willing enough without insisting on being locked in her bedchamber for safe-keeping. And soon after this our wearied party separated and retired to rest.

The next morning, directly after an early breakfast, they set off for the Suburb Regla, calling on their way at the office of the consul, to discharge that gentleman from the duty of accompanying them; a measure now rendered unnecessary by the presence of Mr. Brudenell, and the fact of the latter being an intimate friend of Don Filipo, and therefore quite competent to indorse these strangers.

Mr. Tourneysee was excessively busy, and was very glad to be released from his promise to attend his friends. He gave them, however, his best wishes for their success, bid them adieu, and suffered them to depart.

It was about eleven o'clock in the forenoon when they reached the residence of Don Filipo. It was an imposing edifice, built of white granite, and standing within its own spacious grounds. A broad avenue, paved with granite, and shaded with tropical trees, led up to the front of the house.

Arrived here, Mr. Brudenell alighted from his carriage, rang the doorbell, and sent in the cards of his party with his own. In a few minutes they were admitted by a mulatto footman, in rich though plain livery, who conducted them to a handsome library, where Don Filipo stood ready to receive them.

The Senor Don Filipo Martinez, Marquis de la Santo Espirito, was not a creole. That any spectator might know at a glance. He was, as has been said, a Spanish hidalgo, of the glorious old Castilian order. He had been born and brought up near the Court of Madrid; he had graced an enviable position about the person of his sovereign; and lately, he had been sent out to fill a responsible office in the government of the island. He was even now talked of as the next Captain General.

He was a very distinguished-looking man, somewhat past middle age, with a tall, finely proportioned though very spare form; a long, thin face, Roman nose, piercing black eyes, heavy black eyebrows, olive complexion, and iron-gray hair and beard.

He advanced with grave and stately courtesy to welcome his visitors, whom Mr. Brudenell presented in due order.

When they were all seated, Mr. Brudenell undertook at once to introduce the subject of the business upon which they had come.

Don Filipo gave the speaker his most serious attention, and heard the narrative with surprise and mortification, somewhat modified by his habitual and dignified self-restraint.

At its conclusion, he turned to Judge Merlin, and said:

"I am deeply grieved, senor, in having done you, however unconsciously, so great a wrong. I must pray you to accept my apologies, and the only atonement I can make you—the restitution of your slave."

"Sir, I am pained that you should accuse yourself so unjustly; I cannot feel that you have done me any wrong, or owe me any apology, or restitution. I shall be very glad to get the boy back; and I thank you heartily for your willingness to give him up. But I am quite willing and ready to refund to you the purchase money paid for him," said Judge Merlin.

"Senor, it is impossible for me to receive it," answered Don Filipo gravely.

"But, sir, I cannot think of permitting you to be the loser by this transaction. I really must insist upon you accepting the purchase money."

"Senor, it is impossible for me to do so," very gravely replied Don Filipo.

"But, my dear sir, pray reflect. You have actually disbursed a large sum of money in the purchase of this boy. I do but offer you your own. I pray you accept it."

"It is impossible, senor," very, very gravely replied the Spaniard.

And at that moment Judge Merlin caught the eye of Ishmael fixed upon him with an anxious gaze. This gaze caused Judge Merlin to glance up at the face of his interlocutor.

The countenance of Don Filipo had assumed a severe and haughty aspect, although his words and tones were still courteous and gentle, as he repeated:

"It is impossible, senor."

And then Judge Merlin seemed to understand that to continue to press money upon this proud old Castilian nobleman would be simply to insult him.

With a deep bow, he said:

"I yield the point to you, Senor Don Filipo. And must remain your debtor for this great favor."

The stern face of the old Castilian melted into a fascinating smile, as he offered his hand to the judge, and said courteously:

"I esteem myself happy in being able to restore to the senor his slave. The boy is absent now exercising my favorite saddle horse; but as soon as he returns he shall be sent to the senor."

Our party then arose to depart; but Don Filipo would not allow them to go before they had partaken of a tempting repast of cakes, fruits, sweetmeats, and wine.

Then, with a real regret at parting with this "fine old Spanish gentleman," they took leave and returned to their hotel.

In the course of the afternoon Jim arrived in the custody of Don Filipo's steward, and was regularly delivered over to the safe- keeping of Judge Merlin.

The meeting of poor Jim with his old master and friends, and with his mother and his sweetheart, was at once so touching and so absurd, that it inclined the spectator at the same time to tears and laughter.

"Now," said Judge Merlin, as they sat together in his rooms that evening, "our work is over. And this is Tuesday evening, and we cannot sail until Saturday morning! What the deuce shall we do with the three intervening days?"

"To-morrow," answered Ishmael, "we had better see to providing ourselves with an outfit for the voyage. Remember that since our wardrobe was lost on the 'Oceana,' we have had nothing but the single change provided us by the captain of the 'Santiago.'"

"True, we must have an outfit. The purchase of that will occupy one day; but there will be still two left to dispose of."

"On Thursday we can spend the morning in seeing whatever is interesting in the city and its suburbs, and in the evening you know we are engaged to dine with Mr. Tourneysee."

"Exactly! But what shall we do on Friday?"

"Continue our sight-seeing through the city in the morning, and have Mr. Tourneysee and the Senor Don——"

"Et cetera, to dine with us in the evening. Is that what you mean, Ishmael?"

"Yes, sir."

"That will do then. Now we will go to bed," said the judge, rising and taking his bedroom candle.

And that was the signal for the party to disperse and go to rest.

The remainder of the week was passed in the manner sketched out by Ishmael. Nevertheless the three days of waiting seemed to the anxious father of Claudia three years in length. On Saturday morning our whole party, consisting now of three gentlemen and four servants, embarked on the "Cadiz" for Europe.

Mr. Tourneysee and Don Filipo "Et cetera," as the judge called him, accompanied them to the steamer, and remained with them to the latest possible moment. Then with many fervent wishes for their prosperity in the voyage, the two gentlemen took leave of our party and went on shore. The steamer sailed at nine o'clock. When it was well under way Ishmael looked around among his fellow-passengers, and was pleased to recognize many of the companions of his disastrous voyage on the "Oceana." Among the others was the family of Dr. Kerr. Later in the day, as Ishmael and his shadow, the professor, were standing leaning over the bulwarks of the ship and watching the setting sun sink into the water, leaving a trail of light upon the surface of the sea, he heard a familiar voice exclaim:

"Fader Abraham! Tere ish tat yunk shentleman ant hish olt man again!"

And Ishmael turned and saw the German Jew standing near him. Ishmael smiled and held out his hand; and Isaacs came and grasped it, expressing his pleasure in having "von drue shentleman" for his fellow-passenger once more. And from this day quite a friendship grew up between the young Christian and the old Jew. Without making the least effort to do so, Ishmael won his entire confidence.

Isaacs, reserved and uncommunicative with everyone else, seemed to find pleasure in talking to Ishmael.

Among other voluntary revelations, Isaacs informed Ishmael that he was going to England to see his niece, who was "von gread laty." She was the daughter, he said, of his only sister, who had been the wife of a rich English Jew. She had married an Englishman of high rank; but her husband, as well as her father and mother, was dead; all were dead; and she was living in widowhood and loneliness; and, ah! a great wrong had been done her! And here the Jew would sigh dismally and shake his head.

Now Ishmael, in the delicacy of his nature, would receive all the Jew's voluntary communications and sympathize with all his complaints, without ever asking him a question. And thus, as the Jew never happened to mention the name of his niece, and Ishmael never inquired it, he remained in ignorance of it.

The voyage of the "Cadiz," considering the season of the year, might be said to have been very prosperous. The weather continued clear, with a light wind from the northwest, alternating with calms. Our party having served out their time at seasickness on the "Oceana," were not called to suffer any more from that malady on this voyage.

On the fourteenth day out they arrived at Cadiz, whence they took a steamer bound for Liverpool, where they landed on the first of February, late in the night.

They went to a hotel to spend the remaining hours in sleep. And the next morning, after a hurried breakfast, eaten by candlelight, they took the express train for Edinboro'.



CHAPTER XXXVIII.

CLAUDIA AT CAMERON COURT.

Sweet are the paths—oh, passing sweet, By Esk's fair streams that run O'er airy steep, thro' copsewood deep, Impervious to the sun.

There the rapt poet's step may rove, And yield the muse the day; There beauty led by timid love May shun the tell-tale ray. —Scott.



Cameron Court, the favorite seat of Berenice, Countess of Hurstmonceux, was situated about seven miles south of Edinboro', on the north banks of the Esk. It was an elegant modern edifice, raised upon the ruins of an ancient castle, overhanging a perpendicular precipice, with a sheer descent of several hundred feet to the river. It looked down upon the course of the Esk, winding between rocks of lofty height, whose sides were fringed with a tangled mass of shrubs, ferns, and thistles, and whose summits were crowned with thickets of hazel, pine, and birch. On still higher ground, behind the house, and sheltering it from the northern blast, stood a thick wood of cedar, beech, and fir trees. Many winding footpaths led through this wood, and down the rocks and along the edge of the river. A wilder, more picturesque and romantic spot could scarcely have been found for a dwelling-place.

In summer, green with foliage, bright with blooming flowers, and musical with singing birds and purling brooks, it was beautiful! But in winter, bound in ice, mantled with snow, and gemmed with frost, it was sublime!

Such was the aspect of the place without; while within were collected all the comforts, luxuries, and elegances that wealth, taste, and intellect could command.

Within a short distance of this charming residence stood Craigmillar Castle, an old ruin, memorable from having been the first residence of Mary Queen of Scots after her return from France; and also her favorite retreat when driven to seek repose from the clashing antagonisms of her court at Holyrood.

Nearer still, on the banks of the Esk, stood Roslyn Castle and Chapel, famous in song and story for "the lordly line of high St. Clair"; and Hawthornden, remarkable for its enormous artificial caves, hewn out of the solid foundation rocks, and used as a place of refuge during the barbarous wars of by-gone ages; and many other interesting monuments of history and tradition.

To this attractive home Lady Hurstmonceux had brought Claudia late one winter afternoon.

At that hour, between the thickness of the Scotch mist and the low, gathering shadows of the night, but little could be seen or surmised of the scenery surrounding the house.

But Claudia keenly appreciated the comfort and elegance of the well- warmed and brightly lighted rooms within.

Not that they were more luxurious or more splendid than those she had left forever behind at Castle Cragg, but they were—oh, so different!

There all the magnificence was tainted with the presence of guilt; here all was pure with innocence. There she had been "under the curse"; here she was "under the benediction." There she had been tormented by a devil; here she was comforted by an angel. And this is scarcely putting the comparison, as it existed in her experience, too strongly.

Even when she had been alone and unprotected at the hotel, she had experienced a rebound of spirits from long depression, a joyous sense of freedom—only from the single cause of getting away from Castle Cragg and its sinful inmates. But now, added to that were the pleasure of friendship, the comfort of sympathy, and security of protection. Relief, repose, satisfaction—these were the sensations of Claudia in taking up her temporary abode at Cameron Court. The very first evening seemed a festive one to her, who had been so lonely, so wretched, and so persecuted at Castle Cragg.

The countess took her to a bright, cheerful suite of apartments on the second floor, whose French windows opened upon a balcony overlooking the wild and picturesque scenery of the Esk.

And when she had laid off her bonnet and wrappings her hostess took her down to a handsome dining room, where an elegant little dinner for two was served.

Ah! very different was this from the horrible meals at Castle Cragg, or even from the lonely ones at Magruder's Hotel.

Berenice possessed the rare gift of fascination in a higher degree than any woman Claudia had ever chanced to meet. And she exerted herself to please her guest with such success that Claudia was completely charmed and won.

After dinner they adjourned to a sumptuous apartment, called in the house "my lady's little drawing room." Here everything was collected that could help to make a winter evening pass comfortably and pleasantly.

The Turkey carpet that covered the floor was a perfect parterre of brilliant flowers wrought in their natural colors; and its texture was so fine and thick that it yielded like moss to the footstep. Crimson velvet curtains, lined with white satin and fringed with gold, draped the windows and excluded every breath of the wintry blast. Many costly pictures, rare works of art, covered the walls. A grand piano-forte, a fine harp, a guitar, and a lute were at hand. Rich inlaid tables were covered with the best new books, magazines, and journals. Indian cabinets were filled with antique shells, minerals, ossifications, and other curiosities, Marble stands supported vases, statuettes, and other articles of vertu. Lastly, two soft, deep, easy-chairs were drawn up before the glowing fire; while over the mantelpiece a large cheval glass reflected and duplicated all this wealth of comfort.

With almost motherly tenderness the beautiful countess placed her guest in one of these luxurious chairs and put a comfortable foot cushion under her feet. Then Berenice took the other chair. Between them, on a marble stand, stood a vase of flowers and the countess' work-box. But she did not open it. She engaged her guest in conversation, and such was the charm of her manners that the evening passed like a pleasant dream.

And when Claudia received the kiss of Berenice and retired for the night, it was with the sweet feeling of safety added to her sense of freedom. And when she awoke in the morning, it was to greet with joy her new life of sympathy, security, and repose.

As soon as she rang her bell she was attended by a pretty Scotch girl, who informed her that her ladyship's luggage had arrived, and had been placed in the hall outside her apartments to await her ladyship's orders.

Claudia, when she was dressed, went to look after it and found, to her surprise, not only her large trunk from Magruder's, but also her numerous boxes from Castle Cragg.

Upon inquiry she discovered that the boxes had been forwarded from the castle to the hotel, and sent on with the trunk.

She did not stop to inspect any part of her luggage, but went downstairs into the breakfast parlor, where she found Lady Hurstmonceux presiding over the table, and waiting for her.

Berenice arose and met her guest with an affectionate embrace, and put her into the easiest chair nearest the fire; for it was a bitter cold morning, and the snow lay thick upon the ground and upon the tops of the fir trees that stood before the windows, like footmen with powdered heads.

On turning up her plate Claudia found a letter.

"It is from Jean Murdock, dear. Read it; it refers no doubt to the boxes she has forwarded," said Lady Hurstmonceux.

Claudia smiled, bowed, broke the seal, and read as follows:

"Castle Cragg, Thursday Morning. "Me Leddy: I hae the honor to forward your leddyship's boxes fra the castle. I hope your leddyship will find a' richt. There hae been unco ill doings here sin your leddyship left. Me laird hae gane his ways up to Lunnun; but hae left the player bodie, Guid forgie him, biding her lane here. And she has guided us a' a sair gate sin' she hae held the reins. Auld Cuthbert wouldna bide here longer gin it wer' na for the luve o' the house; na mare would I. I must tell your leddyship about the visit of the poleece, whilk I understand were sent by your leddyship's ain sel'. They cam' the same day your leddyship left. Me laird was going away; and me laird's carriage stood at the door; and just as he was stepping into the carriage they cam' up and spake till him. And then his lairdship laughed, and invited them to enter the house, and walk into the library. And he sent Auld Cuthbert to fetch me. And when I went into the library, his lairdship said till me:

"'Murdock, these people have come about some gorillas that are said to be missing. What about them?'

"'If your lairdship means the puir negro bodies, I dinna ken; I hae nae seen ane of them the day,' I answered. An noo, me leddy, ye maun e'en just forgie' an auld cummer like mesel' gin she writes you a' that followed, e'en though it should cut you to the heart; for ye ought to ken weel the ways o' your bitter ill-wishers. Aweel, then, and when I had answered me laird, he turned to the poleecemen and said:

"'The truth is, Mr. Murray, that you have been deceived by a vera artful party. I may just as well tell you now what in a few days will be the talk of every taproom in the United Kingdom. When I was in America I was regularly taken in by a beautiful adventuress, whom I found—worse luck—in the best circles there. I married the creature and brought her to this castle, which she has dishonored.' And here, me leddy, he gave the poleeceman an exaggerated account of the finding of Frisbie in your leddyship's room. And then he rang the bell, and sent for the player bodie and her friend, who cam' in and confeermed a' that he tauld the poleeceman. And then me laird spake up and said that the negroes had run off wi' a large quantity of jewelry and plate; that he had nae doubt but your leddyship had gi'e them commission to purloin it; that your leddyship's visit and compleent to the poleece was naught but a blind to deceive them; and finally that he demanded to have a warrant issued for the arrest of the negroes on the charge of theft.

"Aweel, me leddy, ye ken that your leddyship and your puir serving bodies are strangers here, and me laird and a' his family are well kenned folk, and, mare than that, they are o' the auld nobility— mare the shame for me laird, na better to do honor till his race. And sae the lang and short o' it is, he talked over the poleecemen, sae that instead of pursuing their investigations in the castle, they went off with me laird to have warrants out for the apprehension of the puir negro folk, whilk I believe to be as innocent of theft as I mysel' or auld Cuthbert. And noo, me leddy, I hae telled ye a', thinking till mesel' that ye ought to ken it. And sae maun e'en just commit your ways to the Lord, and put your trust intil him. Auld Cuthbert and mesel' pray for your leddyship ilka day, that ye may be deleevered fra the spoilers, and fra a' those wha gang about to wark you wae. Me laird hae gane his ways up to Lunnun, as I tauld your leddyship. And the player quean and her cummer hae possession o' the house, and guide a' things their ain gait, wae's me! Gin I suld hear onything anent your leddyship's puir negro folk, I will mak' haste to let your leddyship ken. Auld Cuthbert begs permission to send his duty and his prayers for your leddyship's happiness. And I mysel' hae the honor to be your honorable leddyship's "Obedient humble servant to command, "Jean Murdock."

When Claudia had finished reading this letter she passed it with a sad smile to Lady Hurstmonceux, who, as soon as she had in her turn perused it, tossed it upon the table, saying, scornfully:

"'Whom the gods wish to destroy they first make mad!' Lord Vincent appears to me to have lost his reason. He thinks that he is weaving a net of circumstantial evidence around you for your ruin, when he is, in fact, only involving himself in intricacies of crime which must inevitably prove his destruction."

"I cannot, oh, I cannot, see it in the same light that you do! It seems to me that he has succeeded in making me appear guilty," said Claudia, with a shudder.

"Ah, let us not talk of it, since talking will do no good; at least not now. When your father comes, then we will talk and act," said the countess soothingly, as she set a cup of fragrant coffee before her guest.

Now I do not know whether you care to be informed how Claudia passed her time during the five weeks of her sojourn at Cameron Court, so I shall make the description of her visit a short one.

In the first place, you may be sure, from what you have already seen of Lady Hurstmonceux, that she would not allow her guest to mope.

As soon as the snow ceased to fall and the sky cleared, with a sharp northwest wind that froze the river hard, the countess took her guest out to learn the exhilarating art of skating, and in this way they employed an hour or two of each morning. The remainder of the day would be passed in needlework, reading, music, and conversation.

When the weather moderated and the ice was unsafe for skating, they substituted riding and driving excursions, and visited all the remarkable places in the neighborhood.

They visited Roslyn Castle and went down into those fearful vaults, three tiers under ground, and listened to the guide who told them traditions of the princely state kept up by the ancient lords of Roslyn, who had noblemen of high degree for their carvers and cupbearers; and of those ladies of Roslyn, who never moved from home without a train of two hundred waiting gentlewomen and two hundred mounted knights.

They visited Roslyn Chapel and admired the unequaled beauty of its architecture, and gazed at the wondrous chef d'oeuvre—the "apprentice's pillar"—and heard the story how a poor but gifted boy, hoping to please, had designed and executed the work during the absence of his master, who, on returning and seeing the beautiful pillar, fell into a frenzy of envious rage and slew his apprentice.

They visited the ruins of Craigmillar Castle and stood in the little stone den, seven feet by four, which is known as "Queen Mary's bedroom." They saw those deep, dark dungeons where in the olden times captives pined away their lives forgotten of all above ground; they saw the "execution room," with its condemned cell, its chains and staples, its instruments of torture, its altar and its block.

It was indeed a

—"Dire dungeon, place of doom, Of execution, too, and tomb!"

where, in those savage times, great criminals and innocent victims were alike condemned unheard, and secretly shrived, beheaded, and buried.

They passed on to a still more terrible dungeon among those dread vaults—a circular stone crypt surrounded by tall, deep, narrow niches, in which human beings had been built up alive.

With a shudder Claudia turned from all these horrors to the countess:

"It is said that our country has no past, no history, no monuments. I am glad of it. Better her past should be a blank page than be written over with such bloody hieroglyphics as these. When I consider these records and reflect upon the deeds of this crime- stained old land, I look upon our own young nation as an innocent child. Let us leave this place. It kills me, Berenice."

On Sunday morning at the breakfast table Lady Hurstmonceux proposed, as the day was fine, that they should drive into Edinboro' and attend divine services at St. Giles' Cathedral, interesting from being the most ancient place of worship in the city; a richly endowed abbey and ecclesiastical school in the Middle Ages; and at a later period, after the Reformation, the church, from which. John Knox delivered his fierce denunciation of the sins and sinners of his day.

All this Berenice told Claudia at the breakfast table, seeking to draw her thoughts away from the subject of her own position.

But at the invitation from Lady Hurstmonceux to attend a Christian place of worship Claudia looked up in surprise and exclaimed impulsively:

"But I thought—"

And there she stopped and blushed.

Lady Hurstmonceux understood her, smiled, and answered:

"You thought that I was a Jewess. Well, I was born and brought up in the Jewish faith. But it is now many years, Lady Vincent, since I embraced the Christian religion."

"I am very glad! I am very, very glad! Ah! I am but a poor, unworthy Christian myself, yet I do rejoice in every soul converted to Christ," said Claudia warmly, clasping the hand of her hostess; and, while holding it, she continued to say: "I do love to live in an atmosphere of Christianity, and I hate to live out of it. That was one reason, among others, why I was so unutterably wretched at Castle Cragg. They were such irredeemable atheists. There was never a visit to church, never a prayer, never a grace, never a chapter from the Bible, never any sort of acknowledgment of their Creator, never the slightest regard to his laws. Lord Vincent and Mrs. Dugald would sit down and play cards through a whole Sabbath evening, as upon any other. Oh, it was dreadful. Looking back upon my life among them, I wonder—yes, wonder—how I ever could have lived through it! Coming from that place to this, Lady Hurstmonceux, is like coming from something very like hell to something very like heaven."

"You were tortured in many ways, my poor Claudia. You are now off the rack, that is all. And now, I suppose, we are to go to St. Giles'?"

"If you please, yes; I should like to do so."

Lady Hurstmonceux rang the bell and ordered the carriage. And then the friends arose from the breakfast table and retired to prepare for church.

They enjoyed a beautiful drive of seven miles through a wildly picturesque country, and entered the town and reached the church in time for the opening of the services.

The preacher of the day was a very worthy successor of John Knox, having all the faith and hope, and a good deal more of charity than that grand old prophet of wrath had ever displayed.

This was the first divine worship that Claudia had engaged in for many months. It revived, comforted, and strengthened her.

She left the church in a better mood of mind than she had perhaps ever experienced in the whole course of her life. Her inmost thought was this:

"God enriched my life with the most bountiful blessings. But by sins turned them all into curses and brought my sorrows upon me. I will repent of my sins, I will accept my sorrows. God from his own mercy and not from my deserts has brought me thus far alive through my troubles; he has raised up a friend to succor me. I will bow down in penitence, in humility, in gratitude before him, and I will try to serve him truly in the future, and I will trust all that future to him."

They reached home to a late dinner, and spent the evening in such serious reading and conversation and sacred music as befitted the day. Not one dull hour had Claudia experienced during her residence at Cameron Court.

On Monday, which was another fine winter day, the countess said to her guest:

"This is the day of each week that I always devote to my poor. Would you like to drive around with me in the pony chaise and make acquaintance with the peasantry of Scotland? You will find them a very intelligent, well-educated class."

"Thank you, I should enjoy the drive quite as much as any that we have yet taken," said Claudia.

And accordingly after breakfast the ladies set out upon their rounds. Berenice did not go empty-handed. Hampers of food and bundles of clothing filled up every available space in the carriage. It was a very pleasant drive. To every cottage that the countess entered she brought relief, comfort, and cheerfulness.

The children greeted her with glad smiles; the middle-aged with warm thanks; and the old with fervent blessings. Not from one humble homestead did she turn without leaving some token of her passage; with one family she would leave the needed supply of food; with another the necessary winter clothing; with another, wine, medicine, or books. With others, very poor, she would leave a portion of all these requisites.

Finally, when the sun was sinking to his setting behind the Pentland Hills, she returned home with her guest.

"I must thank you for a very pleasant day, Lady Hurstmonceux. One of the pleasantest I have ever passed in my life. For I have witnessed and I have felt more real pleasure to-day than I ever remember to have experienced before. You have conferred much happiness to-day. If you dispense as much on every Monday, as I suppose you do, the aggregate must be very great," said Claudia, with enthusiasm, as they sat together at tea that evening in "my lady's little drawing room."

For some minutes Berenice did not reply, and when she did, she spoke very seriously.

"If there is one thing more than another for which I thank God, it is for making me one of his stewards. Do you suppose, Claudia, that I hold all the wealth that he has entrusted to me, as my own, to be used for my own exclusive benefit? Oh, no! I feel that I am but his almoner, and I am often ashamed of taking as I do, the lion's share of the good things," she added, glancing around upon the luxuries that encompassed her.

The next day Lady Hurstmonceux proposed another excursion.

"I will not take you to visit any romantic old ruin this morning; but to vary the programme I will take you to see an interesting living reality."

And accordingly the carriage was ordered and they drove out to New Haven, a fishing village within three miles of Edinboro', and yet as isolated and as primitive in its manners and customs as the most remote hamlet in the country.

There Claudia was amused and interested in watching the coming in of the fishing boats, and observing the picturesque attire of the fish- wives, and listening to the deafening clatter of their tongues as they chaffered with the fishermen, while lading their baskets.

This was another pleasant day for Claudia.

But it would stretch this chapter to too great a length to describe each day of her sojourn at Cameron Court.

Let it suffice to say in general terms that the countess kept her guest usefully employed or agreeably entertained during the whole of her visit. There was neither a tedious nor a fatiguing hour in the five weeks of her sojourn.

Every Sunday they attended divine worship at "St. Giles' Cathedral," commonly called "John Knox's church." Every Monday they went their rounds among the poor. Other days in the week they visited interesting and remarkable places in and around Edinboro'. And thus cheerfully passed the days.



CHAPTER XXXIX.

SUSPENSE.

Wait, for the day is breaking, Tho' the dull night be long, Wait, Heav'n is not forsaking Thy heart—be strong! be strong! —Anon.



As the time approached when Claudia might reasonably expect a reply to the letter she had written to her father, she naturally became very anxious.

Would he answer that last urgent appeal by letter or in person? that was the question she was forever asking of herself.

And the response of her heart was always the same; he would lose no time in writing, he would hasten at once to her relief.

Ah! but if he should be ill, or—even dead? What then? Claudia's anxiety grew daily more acute.

She had heard nothing of the fate of her negroes. She learned by a second letter from Jean Murdock that Mrs. Dugald still remained at Castle Cragg, "lording it o'er a'," as the housekeeper expressed it. And she saw by the "Times" that Malcolm, Viscount Vincent, had filed a petition for divorce from his viscountess. That was all.

The fourth week had nearly gone by when one morning, on coming to the breakfast table, Claudia found lying beside her plate a foreign letter.

At the very first glance at its superscription she recognized her father's firm handwriting, and with an irrepressible cry of joy she snatched it up.

It was the short letter Judge Merlin had hastily penned on the eve of his journey to Washington. It merely stated that he had just that instant taken her letters from the post office; and that, in order to save the immediately outgoing mail, he answered them without leaving the office, to announce to her that he should sail for England on the "Oceana," that would leave Boston on the following Wednesday. And then, with strong expressions of indignation against Lord Vincent, sorrow for Claudia's troubles, and affection for herself, the letter closed.

"Oh, Berenice, Berenice! I am so happy; so very happy!" exclaimed Claudia wildly. "My father has written to me! he is well! he is coming! he is coming! he will be here in a few days! in a very few days! for this letter was written in the post office, to save the very last mail that came by the steamer immediately preceding the 'Oceana'! Oh, Berenice, I could cry with joy!"

"I congratulate you with all my heart, dear Claudia. Yes, I should think your father would now be here in two or three days, at farthest," said Lady Hurstmonceux.

"And oh, how shall I get ovor the interval? Ah, Berenice, indulge me! Let us go down, to Liverpool to meet my father!"

"My dear, I would do so in a moment, only I think it the worst plan you could pursue. In your circumstances, dearest Claudia, we must not go journeying through the country. We must live very quietly. And besides, though the 'Oceana' may reasonably be expected in two or three days, there is no reason in the world why she might not arrive to-day, or to-night. In which case, by going down to Liverpool, we shall be most likely to miss your father, who would be steaming up here."

"Certainly, certainly! I see the reasonableness of your views; but how, then, shall I get over the intervening time?"

"I might propose for you excursions to many interesting places in the vicinity of Edinboro' which you have not seen; but that we must not go far from home, while expecting Judge Merlin. We must not happen to be absent when your father arrives."

"Oh, no! we must not risk such a thing, I know. Well, I will wait as patiently as I can."

"And I will tell you what you may do, meantime. To-day you shall superintend in person the preparation of a suite of rooms for your father. You shall let my housekeeper into the secret of all his little tastes, and they shall be considered in the arrangements. That will occupy one day. To-morrow, you know, is Sunday, and we must go to church. That will occupy the second. The next day, Monday, we will make our weekly round among the poor. That will occupy the third day, to the exclusion of everything else. For if there is one employment more than another that will make us forget our personal anxieties, it is ministering to the wants of others. And, in all human probability, before Monday evening Judge Merlin will be here."

"Yes, yes! Oh, my dear father! I can scarcely realize that I shall see him so soon," said Claudia, with emotion.

The countess' programme was carried out. Claudia spent that day in superintending the arrangements of a handsome suite of rooms for her father.

On Sunday they went to church. But the text was an unfortunate one for Claudia's spirits. It was taken from James iv. 13: "Ye know not what shall be on the morrow." And the subject of the discourse was on the vanity of human expectations and the uncertainty of human destiny. Claudia returned home greatly depressed; but that depression soon yielded to the cheerfulness of Lady Hurstmonceux's manner.

On Monday they made their rounds among the poor; and Claudia forgot her anxieties and felt happy in the happiness she saw dispensed around her.

Yes, the programme of the countess was carried out, but her previsions were not realized. Judge Merlin did not come that evening, nor on the next morning, nor on the next evening.

On Wednesday morning Claudia, as usual, seized the "Times" as soon as it was brought in, and turned eagerly to the telegraphic column. But there was no arrival from America. Glancing farther down the column, she suddenly grew pale and exclaimed:

"Oh, Berenice!"

"What is it, dear?" inquired the countess.

Claudia read aloud the paragraph that had alarmed her:

"The 'Oceana' is now several days overdue. Serious apprehensions are entertained for her safety."

"Do not be alarmed, my dear. At this season of the year the steamers are frequently delayed beyond their usual time of arrival," said the countess, with a cheerfulness that she was very far from really feeling.

"But if there should have been an accident!"

"My dear, that line of steamers has never had an accident. And their good fortune is not the effect of luck, but of the great care bestowed by the company and its officers upon the safety of those who trust to them their lives and goods. Reassure yourself, Claudia."

But that was easier said than done. Three or four more of anxious days and nights passed, during which Claudia watched the papers for the arrival of the ocean steamers; but all in vain, until the Saturday morning of that week, when, as usual, she opened the "Times" and turned to the telegraphic column.

She could scarcely repress the cry of anguish that arose to her lips on reading the following:

"Arrival of the ocean steamers. The screw propeller 'Superior,' with New York mails of the 15th, has reached Queenstown. On the Banks of Newfoundland she passed the wreck of a large steamer, supposed to be the 'Oceana.'"

"Oh, Berenice! Oh, Berenice! Can this be true? Oh! Speak a word of hope or comfort to me!" cried Claudia, wringing her hands in the extremity of mental agony.

"My dear, let us still hope for the best. There is no certainty that it is the wreck of the 'Oceana.' There is no certainty that the 'Oceana' is wrecked at all. She is delayed; that is all which is known. And that is often the case with the ocean steamers at this season of the year, as I told you before," said the countess, trying to inspire Claudia with a hope that she herself scarcely dared to indulge.

But Claudia's face was drawn with anguish.

"Oh, the suspense, the terrible agony of suspense! It is worse than death!" she cried.

The countess essayed to comfort her, but in vain.

All that day, and for many succeeding ones, Claudia was like a victim stretched upon the rack. The torture of uncertainty was harder to endure than any certainty; it was, as she said, "worse than death," worse than despair! Some two weeks passed away, during which her very breath of life seemed almost suspended in the agony of hope that could not die.

At length one morning, on descending to the breakfast parlor, she found Lady Hurstmonceux reading the "Times."

"Any news?" inquired Claudia, in a faint voice.

The countess looked up. Claudia read the expression of her face, which seemed to say, prepare for good news.

"Oh, yes, there is! there is!" exclaimed Claudia, suddenly snatching the paper, and turning to the telegraphic column, and then, with a cry of joy, sinking into her seat.

"Let me read it to you, my dear, you are incapable of doing so," said Berenice, gently taking the paper from her hand and reading aloud the following paragraph:

"News of the 'Oceana.'—The Oriental and Peninsular Steam Packet Company's ship 'Albatross' has arrived at Liverpool, bringing all the passengers and crew of the 'Oceana,' wrecked on the banks of Newfoundland. They were picked up by the 'Santiago,' bound for Havana, and taken to that port, whence they sailed by the 'Cadiz' for the port of Cadiz, whence lastly they were brought by the 'Albatross' to Liverpool. Among the passengers saved were Chief Justice Merlin of the United States Supreme Court, Ishmael Worth, Esquire, a distinguished member of the Washington bar, and Professor Erasmus Kerr, of the Glasgow University. The shipwrecked passengers have all arrived in good health and spirits, and have already dispersed to their various destinations."

"This is too much joy! Oh, Berenice, it is too much joy!" cried Claudia, bursting into tears and throwing herself into the arms of Lady Hurstmonceux, and weeping freely on the sympathetic bosom of that faithful friend.

"Claudia, dear," whispered that gentle lady, "go to your room and shut yourself in, and kneel and return thanks to God for this his great mercy. And so shall your spirits be calmed and strengthened."

Claudia ceased weeping, kissed her kind monitress, and went and complied with her counsel. And very fervent was the thanksgiving that went up to Heaven from her relieved and grateful heart. She had finished her prayers and had arisen from her knees and was sitting by her writing-table indulging in a reverie of anticipation, when a bustle below stairs attracted her attention.

She listened.

Yes, it was the noise of an arrival!

With a joyous presentiment of what had come to the house, Claudia rushed out of the room and down the stairs to the lower entrance hall, and the next moment found herself clasped to the bosom of her father.

For a few moments neither spoke. The embrace was a fervent, earnest, but silent one.

The judge was the first to break the spell.

"Oh, my child! my child! Thank God that I find you alive and well!" he exclaimed, in a broken voice.

"Oh, my father, my dear, dear father!" began Claudia; but she broke down, burst into tears, and wept upon his bosom.

He held her there, soothing her with loving words and tender caresses, as he had been accustomed to do when she was but a child coming to him with her childish troubles. When Claudia had exhausted her passion of tears, she looked up and said:

"But, papa, you have not been in the drawing room yet? You hare not seen Lady Hurstmonceux?"

"No, my dear, I have but just arrived. Claudia, immediately upon my landing I took the first train north, and reached Edinboro' this morning. I sent my party on to Magruder's Hotel and took a fly and drove immediately out here. I have but just been admitted to the house and sent my card in to the hostess. And, ah, I see that my messenger has returned."

A servant in livery came up, bowed, and said:

"My lady directs me to say to you, sir, that she will see you immediately in the drawing room, unless you would prefer to go first to the apartments which are prepared for you, sir."

The judge hesitated, and then turned to his daughter and whispered the inquiry:

"How do I look, Claudia? Presentable?"

Lady Vincent ran her eyes over the traveler and answered:

"Not at all presentable, papa. You look just as one might expect you to do—black with smoke and dust and cinders, as if you had traveled in the train all night."

"Which of course I did."

"And I think you would be all the better for a visit to your rooms, papa. Come, I will show you the way, for I am as much at home here as ever I was at dear old Tanglewood. James," she said, turning to the footman who had brought the message, "you need not wait. I will show my papa his rooms; but you may order breakfast for him, for I dare say he has had none. Come, papa!"

And so saying Claudia marshaled her father upstairs to the handsome suite of apartments that had been made ready for him. When he had renovated his toilet, he declared himself ready to go below and be presented to his hostess. Claudia conducted him downstairs and into "my lady's little drawing room."



CHAPTER XL.

FATHER AND DAUGHTER.

How deep, how thorough felt the glow Of rapture, kindling out of woe; How exquisite one single drop Of bliss, that sparkling to the top Of misery's cup, is keenly quaffed Though death must follow soon the draught. —Moore.



The countess was sitting on one of the armchairs near the fire when Claudia led the judge up before her, saying only:

"Lady Hurstmonceux, my father."

The countess arose and held out her hand with a smile of welcome, saying:

"It gives me much joy to see you safe, after all your dangers, Judge Merlin. Pray sit near the fire."

The judge retained her hand in his own for a moment, while he bowed over it and answered:

"I thank you for your kind expressions, dear Lady Hurstmonceux. But, oh! what terms shall I find strong enough to thank you for the noble support you have given my daughter in her great need?"

"Believe me, I was very happy to be serviceable to Lady Vincent," replied the countess gently. Then, turning to Claudia, she said: