And Mrs. Claire sighed.

"You will scarcely be willing to give her up, if she remains here long," said Edward.

"I don't know how I should feel to part from her, even now. Oh, isn't it sad to think that she has no living soul to love or care for her in the world."

"Mr. Jasper is her guardian, you know."

"Yes; and such a guardian!"

"I should not like to have my child dependent on his tender mercies, certainly. But he will have little to do with her beyond paying the bills for her maintenance. He will place her in some family to board; and her present comfort and future well-being will depend very much upon the character of the persons who have charge of her."

Edith sighed.

"I wish," said she, after a pause, "that we were able to take her. But we are not."

And she sighed again.

"Mr. Jasper will pay six dollars a week to any one who will take the entire care of her until she is twelve years of age."

"Will he?" A sudden light had gleamed over the face of Mrs. Claire.

"Yes; he said so this morning."

"Then, why may not we take her? I am willing," was Edith's quick suggestion.

"It is a great care and responsibility," said Edward.

"I shall not feel it so. When the heart prompts, duty becomes a pleasure. O yes, dear, let us take the child by all means."

"Can we make room for her?"

"Why not? Her little bed, in a corner of our chamber, will in noway incommode us; and through the day she will be a companion for Edie. If you could only have seen how sweetly they played together! Edie has not been half the trouble to-day that she usually is."

"It will rest altogether with you, Edith," said Claire, seriously. "In fact, Mr. Jasper proposed that we should take Fanny. I did not give him much encouragement, however."

"Have you any objection, dear?" asked Edith.

"None. The sum to be paid weekly will more than cover the additional cost of housekeeping. If you are prepared for the extra duties that must come, I have nothing to urge against the arrangement."

"If extra duties are involved, I will perform them as a labour of love. Without the sum to be paid for the child's maintenance, I would have been ready to take her in and let her share our home. She is now in the special guardianship of the Father of the fatherless, and he will provide for her, no matter who become the almoners of his bounty. This is my faith, Edward, and in this faith I would have freely acted even without the provision that has been made."

"Let it be then, as you wish, Edith."

"How providential this increase of our income, Edward!" said his wife, soon afterward, while the subject of taking Fanny into their little household was yet the burden of their conversation. "We shall gain here all, and more than all that will be lost in giving up your situation with Mr. Jasper. Did I not say to you that good would come of this guardianship; and is there not, even now, a foreshadowing of things to come?"

"Perhaps there is," replied Edward thoughtfully. "But my eye of faith is not so clear as yours."

"Let me see for you then, dear," said Edith, in a tender voice. "I am an earnest confider in the good purposes of our Heavenly Father. I trust in them, as a ship trusts in its well-grounded anchor. That, in summing up the events of our life, when the time of our departure comes, we shall see clearly that each has been wisely ordered or provided for by One who is infinitely good and wise, I never for an instant doubt. Oh, if you could only see with me, eye to eye, Edward! But you will, love, you will—that my heart assures me. It may be some time yet—but it will come."

"May it come right speedily!" was the fervent response of Edward Claire.



CHAPTER VII.

"Well, Edward, what does your wife say?" Such was the inquiry of Jasper, immediately on the return of his clerk from dinner.

"There will be no difficulty, so far as she is concerned," the young man answered.

"None, did you say, Edward?"

"None. She is willing to take the child, under the arrangement you propose."

"That is, for three hundred dollars a year, to find her in every thing?"

"Yes; until she is twelve years of age."

"So I understand it. After that, as the expense of her clothing and education will increase, we can make a new arrangement. Very well. I'm glad you have decided to take the child. It won't cost you six dollars a week, for the present, I am sure: so the additional income will be quite a help to you."

"I don't know how that will be. At any rate, we are willing to take the child into our family."

"Suppose then, Edward, we mutually sign this little agreement to that effect, which I have drawn up."

And Jasper took a paper from his desk, which he handed to Edward.

"I've no objection," said the latter, after he had read it over. "It binds me to the maintenance of the child until she is twelve years of age, and you to the payment therefor of three hundred dollars a year, in quarterly payments of seventy-five dollars each."

"Yes, that is the simple statement of the matter. You see, I have prepared duplicates: one for you, and one for myself. I will sign them first."

And Jasper took a pen and placed upon each of the documents his sign-manual.

Claire did the same; and a clerk witnessed the signatures. Each, then, took a copy. Thus, quickly and fully, was the matter arranged.

This fact of giving to the contract a legal form, was, under the circumstances, the very thing Claire most desired. He had already begun to see difficulties ahead, so soon as he announced his intention of leaving Jasper's service; particularly, as no reason that he could give would satisfy the merchant—difficulties growing out of this new relation as the personal guardian of little Fanny Elder. The signing of a regular contract for the payment of a certain sum of money, quarterly, for the child's maintenance, gave him a legal right to collect that sum, should Jasper, from any change of feeling, be disposed at some future time to give him trouble. This was something gained.

It was with exceeding reluctance that Claire forced himself, during the afternoon, to announce his intention to leave Mr. Jasper. Had he not promised Mr. Melleville and his wife to do this, it would certainly have been postponed for the present; perhaps altogether. But his word was passed to both of them, and he felt that to defer the matter would be wrong. So, an opportunity offering, he said—

"I believe, Mr. Jasper, that I shall have to leave you."

"Leave me, Edward!" Mr. Jasper was taken altogether by surprise. "What is the meaning of this? You have expressed no dissatisfaction. What is wrong?"

The position of Edward was a trying one. He could not state the true reasons for wishing to leave his present situation, without giving great offence, and making, perhaps, an enemy. This he wished, if possible, to avoid. A few days before he would not have scrupled at the broadest equivocation, or even at a direct falsehood. But there had been a birth of better principles in his mind, and he was in the desire to let them govern his conduct. As he did not answer promptly the question of Jasper as to his reasons for wishing to leave him, the latter said—

"This seems to be some sudden purpose, Edward. Are you going to receive a higher salary?"

Still Edward did not reply; but looked worried and irresolute. Taking it for granted that no motive but a pecuniary one could have prompted this desire for change, Jasper continued—

"I have been satisfied with you, Edward. You seem to understand me, and to comprehend my mode of doing business. I have found you industrious, prompt, and cheerful in performing your duties. These are qualities not always to be obtained. I do not, therefore, wish to part with you. If a hundred, or even a hundred and fifty dollars a year, will be any consideration, your salary is increased from to-day."

This, to Edward, was unexpected. He felt more bewildered and irresolute than at first. So important an advance in his income, set against a reduction of the present amount, was a strong temptation, and he felt his old desires for money arraying themselves in his mind.

"I will think over your offer," said he. "I did not expect this. In the morning I will be prepared to decide."

"Very well, Edward. If you remain, your salary will be increased to six hundred and fifty dollars."

To Claire had now come another hour of darkness. The little strength, just born of higher principles, was to be sorely tried. Gold was in one scale, and the heavenly riches that are without wings in the other. Which was to overbalance?

The moment Claire entered the presence of his wife, on returning home that evening, she saw that a change had taken place—an unfavourable change; and a shadow fell upon her pure spirit.

"I spoke to Mr. Jasper about leaving him," he remarked, soon after he came in.

"What did he say?" inquired Edith.

"He does not wish me to go."

"I do not wonder at that. But, of course, he is governed merely by a selfish regard to his own interests."

"He offers to increase my salary to six hundred and fifty dollars," said Edward, in a voice that left his wife in no doubt as to the effect which this had produced.

"A thousand dollars a year, Edward," was the serious answer, "would be a poor compensation for such services as he requires. Loss of self-respect, loss of honour, loss of the immortal soul, are all involved. Think of this, my dear husband! and do not for a moment hesitate."

But Edward did hesitate. This unexpected offer of so important an increase in his salary had excited his love of money, temporarily quiescent. He saw in such an increase a great temporal good; and this obscured his perception of a higher good, which, a little while before, had been so clear.

"I am not so sure, Edith," said he, "that all these sad consequences are necessarily involved. I am under no obligation to deal unfairly with his customers. My duty will be done, when I sell to them all I can at a fair profit. If he choose to take an excess of profit in his own dealing, that is his affair. I need not be partaker in his guilt."

"Edward!" returned his wife, laying her hand upon his arm, and speaking in a low, impressive voice—"Do you really believe that you can give satisfaction to Mr. Jasper in all things, and yet keep your conscience void of offence before God and man? Think of his character and requirements—think of the kind of service you have, in too many instances, rendered him—and then say whether it will be possible to satisfy him without putting in jeopardy all that a man should hold dear—all that is worth living for? Oh, Edward! do not let this offer blind you for a moment to the real truth."

"Then you would have me reject the offer?"

"Without an instant's hesitation, Edward."

"It is a tempting one. And then, look at the other side, Edith. Only four hundred dollars a year, instead of six hundred and fifty."

"I feel it as no temptation. The latter sum, in the present case, is by far the better salary, for it will give us higher sources of enjoyment. What are millions of dollars, and a disquiet mind, compared to a few hundreds, and sweet peace? If you remain with Jasper, an unhappy spirit will surely steal into our dwelling—if you take, for the present, your old place with Mr. Melleville, how brightly will each morning's sun shine in upon us, and how calmly will the blessed evening draw around her curtains of repose!"

Edith had always possessed great influence over her husband. He loved her very tenderly; and was ever loth to do any thing to which she made opposition. She was no creature of mere impulse—of weak caprices—of captious, yet unbending will. If she opposed her husband in any thing, it was on the ground of its non-agreement with just principles; and she always sustained her positions with the clearest and most direct modes of argumentation. Not with elaborate reasonings, but rather in the declaration of things self-evident—the quick perceptions of a pure, truth-loving mind. How inestimable the blessing of such a wife!

"No doubt you have the better reason on your side, Edith," replied her husband, his manner very much subdued. "But it is difficult for me to unclasp my hand to let fall therefrom the natural good which I can see and estimate, for the seemingly unreal and unsubstantial good that, to your purer vision, looms up so imposingly."

"Unreal—unsubstantial—Edward!" said Edith, in reply to this. "Are states of mind unreal?"

"I have not always found them so," was answered.

"Is happiness, or misery, unreal? Oh, are they not our most palpable realizations? It is not mere wealth that is sought for as an end—that is not the natural good for which the many are striving. It is the mental enjoyment that possession promises—the state of mind that would be gained through gold as a means. Is it not so? Think."

"Yes—that is, undoubtedly, the case."

"But, is it possible for money to give peace and true enjoyment, if, in the spirit, even though not in the letter, violence is done to the laws of both God and man? Can ill-gotten gain produce heavenly beatitudes?—and there are none others. The heart never grows truly warm and joyous except when light from above streams through the darkened vapours with which earth-fires have surrounded it. Oh, my husband! Turn yourself away from this world's false allurements, and seek with me the true riches. Whatever may be your lot in life—I care not how poor and humble—I shall walk erect and cheerful by your side if you have been able to keep a conscience void of offence; but if this be not so, and you bring to me gold and treasure without stint, my head will lie bowed upon my bosom, and my heart throb in low, grief-burdened pulsations. False lights, believe me, Edward, are hung out by the world, and they lure life's mariner on to dangerous coasts. Let us remain on a smooth and sunny sea, while we can, and not tempt the troubled and uncertain wave, unless duty requires the venture. Then, with virtue at the helm, and the light of God's love in the sky, we will find a sure haven at last."

"It shall be as you wish, Edith," said Claire, as he gazed with admiring affection into the bright and glowing face of his wife, that was lovely in her beautiful enthusiasm.

"No—no, Edward! Don't say as I wish," was her quick reply. "I cannot bear that you should act merely under my influence as an external pressure. If I have seemed to use persuasion, it has not been to force you over to my way of thinking. But, cannot you see that I am right? Does not your reason approve of what I say?"

"It does, Edith. I can see, as well as feel, that you are right. But, the offer of a present good is a strong temptation. I speak freely."

"And I thank you for doing so. Oh! never conceal from me your inmost thoughts. You say that you can see as well as feel that I am right?"

"Yes; I freely acknowledge that."

"Your reason approves what I have said?"

"Fully."

"This tells you that it will be better for you in the end to accept of four hundred dollars from Mr. Melleville, than to remain with Mr. Jasper at six hundred and fifty?"

"It does, Edith."

"Then, my husband, let the reason which God has given to you as a guide, direct you now in the right way. Do not act under influence from me—for then the act will not be freely your own—but, as a truly rational, and, therefore, a wise man, choose now the way in which an enlightened reason tells you that you ought to walk."

"I have chosen, Edith," was the young man's low, but firm reply.

"How?" The wife spoke with a sudden, trembling eagerness, and held her breath for an answer.

"I will leave my present place, and return to Mr. Melleville."

"God be thanked!" came sobbing from the lips of Edith, as she threw herself in unrestrained joy upon the bosom of her husband.



CHAPTER VIII.

"I don't just understand this," said Jasper to himself, after the interview with his clerk described in another chapter. "I thought him perfectly satisfied. He didn't say he was offered a higher salary. Ah! guess I've got it now. It's only a bit of a ruse on his part to get me to increase his wages. I didn't think of this before. Well, it has succeeded; and, in truth, he's worth all I've offered him. Shrewd, quick, and sharp; he's a young man just to my mind. Should he grow restless again, I must tempt him with the idea of a partnership at some future period. If business goes on increasing, I shall want some one with me whom I can trust and depend on more fully than on a clerk."

Thus, in the mind of Jasper, all was settled; and he was fully prepared, on the next morning, when he met Edward to hear from him that he would remain in his service. A different decision took him altogether by surprise.

"Where are you going?" he asked. Edward hesitated a moment ere replying.

"Back to Mr. Melleville's."

"To Melleville's! Will he give you more salary than I have agreed to pay?"

"No," was the answer; "but I have reasons for wishing to accept the place he offers me."

"Well, just as you please," said Jasper, coldly. "Every one must suit himself."

And, with the air of a person offended, he turned himself from the young man. Soon after he went out, and did not come back for two or three hours. When he re-entered the store there was an angry flash in his eyes, which rested somewhat sternly upon Claire.

"Let me say a word with you, Edward."

There happened to be no customer in to engage the clerk's attention, and he retired, with his employer, to the back part of the store. Jasper then turned and confronted him with a stern aspect.

"Well, young man!" said he sharply, "it seems that you have been making rather free with my good name, of late; representing me as a cheat and a swindler."

For a few moments the mind of Claire was strongly excited and in a perfect maze of confusion. The blood mounted to his face, and he felt a rising and choking sensation in his throat. Wisely he forbore any answer until he had regained his self-possession. Then, with a coolness that surprised even himself, he said—

"That's a broad accusation, Mr. Jasper. Will you go with me to your authority?"

Jasper was not just prepared for a response like this; and he cooled down, instantly, several degrees.

"My authority is quite satisfactory," he returned, still manifesting angry feeling. "That you have been slandering me is plain; and, also, betraying the confidential transactions of the house. It is full time we parted—full time. I didn't dream that I was warming an adder to sting me?"

"I must insist, Mr. Jasper," said Claire firmly, "that you give me your authority for all this. Let me stand face to face with the man who has so broadly accused me."

"Then you deny it all?"

"I shall neither affirm nor deny any thing. You have angrily accused me of having done you a great wrong. All I ask is your authority, and the right to stand face to face with that authority. This is no light matter, Mr. Jasper."

"Well said, young man. It is no light matter, as you will, perhaps, know to your sorrow in the end. Don't suppose, for a moment, that I shall either forget or forgive this outrage. Leave me because I cheat in my business!" An expression of unmitigated contempt was on his face. "Poh! What hypocrisy! I know you! And let Mr. Melleville beware. He, I more than suspect, is at the bottom of this. But he'll rue the day he crossed my path—he will!"

And Jasper ground his teeth in anger.

By this time, Claire had become entirely self-possessed. He was both surprised and troubled; yet concealed, as far as possible, the real state of his feelings.

"So far as Mr. Melleville is concerned," said he, "I wish you to understand, that I applied to him for the situation."

"Exactly! That is in agreement with what I heard. I was such a rogue that you could not live with me and keep a clear conscience—so you sought for a place with an honest man."

Claire dropped his eyes to the floor, and stood musing for some considerable time. When he raised them, he looked steadily at his employer and said—

"Mr. Jasper, I never made use of the words you have repeated."

"If not the very words, those of a like signification?"

"To whom? There is no need of concealment, Mr. Jasper." Claire was feeling less and less anxious for the result of this conference every moment. "Speak out freely, and you will find me ready to do the same. There had been some underhand work here—or some betrayal of an ill-advised confidence. The former, I am most ready to believe. In a word, sir, and to bring this at once to an issue—your informant in this matter is Henry Parker, who lives with Mr. Melleville."

The change instantly perceptible in the manner of Jasper showed that Edward's suspicion was right. He had, all at once, remembered that, during his conversation with Melleville, this young man was near.

"I see how it is," he continued. "An eavesdropper has reported, with his own comments and exaggerations, a strictly confidential interview. Such being the case, I will state the plain truth of the matter. Are you prepared to hear it?"

"Oh, certainly," replied Jasper, with a covert sneer in his voice. "I'm prepared to hear any thing."

"Very well. What I have to say is now wrung from me. I did not wish to leave you in anger. I did not wish to draw upon me your ill-will. But, what is unavoidable must be borne. It is true, Mr. Jasper, as you have been informed, that I am not satisfied with your way of doing business."

"How long since, pray?" asked Jasper, with ill-disguised contempt.

"I did not like it in the beginning, but gradually suffered myself to think that all was fair in trade, until I found I was no better than a common cheat! Happily, I have been able to make a sudden pause in the way I was going. From this time, I will serve no man who expects me to overreach a customer in dealing. So soon as my mind was fully made up to leave your employment, I called to see my old friend, Mr. Melleville; stated to him, frankly and fully, what I thought and felt; and asked him if he could not make room for me in his store. Parker doubtless overheard a part of what we were saying, and reported it to you. I would, let me say in passing, much rather hold my relation to this unpleasant business than his. Mr. Melleville offered me my old salary—four hundred dollars—and I agreed to enter his service."

"Four hundred dollars!" Jasper said this in unfeigned surprise.

"Yes, sir; that is all he can afford to pay, and of course all I will receive."

"And I offered you six hundred and fifty."

"True."

"Edward, you are the most consummate fool I ever heard of."

"Time will show that," was the undisturbed reply. "I have made my election thoughtfully, and am prepared to meet the result."

"You'll repent of this; mark my word for it."

"I may regret your ill-will, Mr. Jasper; but never repent this step. I'm only thankful that I possessed sufficient resolution to take it."

"When are you going?"

"Not before the end of this month, unless you wish it otherwise. I would like to give you full time to supply my place."

"You can go at once, if it so please you. In fact, after what has just passed, I don't see how you can remain, or I tolerate your presence."

"I am ready for this, Mr. Jasper," coolly replied the young man.

"How much is due you?" was inquired, after a brief silence.

"Twenty-five dollars, I believe," answered Claire.

Jasper threw open a ledger that lay on the desk, and, turning to the young man's account, ran his eyes up the two columns of figures, and then struck a balance.

"Just twenty-seven dollars," said he, after a second examination of the figures. "And here's the money," he added, as he took some bills from the desk and counted out the sum just mentioned. "Now sign me a receipt in full to date, and that ends the matter."

The receipt was promptly signed.

"And now," sneered Jasper, bowing with mock deference, "I wish you joy of your better place. You will, in all probability, hear from me again. I haven't much faith in your over-righteous people; and will do myself the justice to make some very careful examinations into your doings since you entered my service. If all is right, well; if not, it won't be good for you. I'm not the man to forgive ingratitude, injury, and insult—of all three of which you have been guilty."

"We will not bandy words on that subject, Mr. Jasper," said Claire—"I simply deny that I have been guilty of either of the faults you allege. As for an investigation into my business conduct, that you can do as early and as thoroughly as you please. I shall feel no anxiety for the result."

Jasper did not reply. For a few moments the young man stood as if expecting some remark; none being made, he turned away, gathered together a few articles that were his own private property, tied them into a bundle and marked his name thereon. Then bowing to the merchant, he retired—oppressed from recent painful excitement, yet glad, in his inmost feelings, that a connection so dangerous as that with Jasper had been dissolved—dissolved even at the cost of making an enemy.



CHAPTER IX.

As no event of particularly marked interest occurred with those whose histories we are writing, during the next few years, we will pass over that time without a record. Some changes of more or less importance have taken place, in the natural progress of things; but these will become apparent as we pursue the narrative.

A dull, damp November day was losing itself in the sombre twilight, when Edward Claire left the store of Mr. Melleville, and took his way homeward. An errand for his wife led him past his old place of business. As he moved along the street, opposite, he noticed a new sign over the door, the large gilt letters of which were strongly reflected in the light of a gas-lamp. It bore the words, JASPER & PARKER.

Involuntarily the young man sighed. If he had remained with Jasper, there was little doubt but that his name would have been the one now associated with his in a copartnership. Parker was the young man who had betrayed the conversation between Claire and Mr. Melleville. His end in doing this was to gain the favour of Jasper, and thus secure the place left vacant by the departing clerk. He had succeeded in his purpose. Jasper offered him the situation, and he took it. Five years afterward, in which time Jasper had made money rapidly, he was elevated to the position of partner, with a fair interest in the business. He had been honest toward his employer, because he saw that through him there was a chance to rise. Honest in heart he was not, for he never scrupled to overreach a customer.

Edward Claire, as we have remarked, sighed involuntarily. His own prospects in life were not what are called flattering. His situation with Mr. Melleville was now worth five hundred dollars a year, but his family had increased, and with the increase had come new wants. The condition of Mr. Melleville's business gave him no encouragement to hope for a larger income while in his service. Several times during the last two years he had made application for vacant places, but without success. Sometimes he felt restless and discouraged, as his vision penetrated the future; but there was ever a cheerful light at home that daily dispelled the coming shadows.

Scarcely had the sigh lost itself on the air, when a hand was laid on his arm, and an old acquaintance said—

"Ah, Edward! How are you?"

Claire seeing the face of his friend, returned the greeting cordially.

"What have you been doing with yourself?" asked the latter. "It is months, I believe, since I had the pleasure of meeting you."

"Busy all day," returned Clare, "and anchored at home in the evening. So the time is passing."

"Pleasantly and profitably, I hope," said the friend.

"Pleasantly enough, I will own," was answered; "as to the profit—if you mean in a money sense—there is not much to boast of."

"You are still with Melleville?"

"Yes."

"At what salary?"

"Five hundred."

"Is that all? How much family have you?"

"Three children; or, I might say four; but the fourth brings us three hundred dollars a year for her maintenance."

"That is something."

"Oh yes. It is quite a help."

"By the way, Edward—the new store we just past reminds me of it—your old friend Jasper has just given one of his clerks, named Parker, an interest in his business."

"So I am aware."

"Jasper is doing first-rate."

"He is making money, I believe."

"Coining it. The fact is, Edward, you never should have left him. Had you kept that situation, you would have been the partner now. And, by the way, there was rather a strange story afloat at the time you took it into your head to leave Jasper."

"Ah! what was it?"

"It is said that you thought him a little too close in his dealings, and left him on that account. I hadn't given you credit for quite so tender a conscience. How was it, Edward?"

"I didn't like his modes of doing business, and, therefore, left him. So far you heard truly."

"But what had you to do with his modes of doing business?"

"A great deal. As one of his employees, I was expected to carry out his views."

"And not being willing to do that, you left his service."

"That is the simple story."

"Excuse me, Edward, but I can't help calling you a great fool. Just see how you have stood in your own light. But for this extra bit of virtue, for which no one thinks a whit the better of you, you might this day have been on the road to fortune, instead of Parker."

"I would rather be in my own position than in his," replied Claire firmly.

"You would!" His companion evinced surprise. "He is in the sure road to wealth."

"But not, I fear, in the way to happiness."

"How can you say that, Edward?"

"No man, who, in the eager pursuit of money, so far forgets the rights of others as to trample on them, can be in the way to happiness."

"Then you think he tramples on the rights of others?"

"I know but little, if any thing, about him," replied Claire; "but this I do know, that unless Leonard Jasper be a different man from what he was five years ago, fair dealing between man and man is a virtue in a clerk that would in nowise recommend him to the position of an associate in business. His partner must be shrewd, sharp, and unscrupulous—a lover of money above every thing else—a man determined to rise, no matter who is trampled down or destroyed in the ascent."

"In business circles such men are by no means scarce."

"I am aware of it."

"And it is unhesitatingly affirmed by many whom I know, that, as the world now is, no really honest man can trade successfully."

"That is more than I am ready to admit."

"The sharpest and shrewdest get on the best."

"Because it is easier to be sharp and shrewd than to be intelligent, persevering, industrious, patient, and self-denying. The eagerness to get rich fast is the bane of trade. I am quite ready to admit that no man can get rich at railroad speed, and not violate the law of doing as you would be done by."

"Doing as you would be done by! O dear!" said the friend; "you certainly don't mean to bring that law down into the actual life of the world?"

"It would be a happier world for all of us if this law were universally obeyed."

"That may be. But, where all are selfish, how is it possible to act from an unselfish principle?"

"Do you approve of stealing?" said Claire, with some abruptness.

"Of course not," was the half-indignant answer.

"I need not have asked the question, for I now remember to have seen the fact noticed in one of our papers, that an unfaithful domestic in your family had been handed over to the police."

"True. She was a thief. We found in her trunk a number of valuable articles that she had stolen from us."

"And you did right. You owed this summary justice as well to the purloiner as to the public. Now, there are many ways of stealing, besides this direct mode. If I deprive you of your property with design, I steal from you. Isn't that clear?"

"Certainly."

"And I am, to use plain words, a thief. Well, now take this easily to be understood case. I have a lot of goods to sell, and you wish to purchase them. In the trade I manage to get from you, through direct misrepresentation, or in a tacit advantage of your ignorance, more than the goods are really worth. Do I not cheat you?"

"Undoubtedly."

"And having purposely deprived you of a portion of your money, am I not a thief?"

"In all that goes to make up the morality of the case, you are."

"The truth, unquestionably. Need I proceed further? By your own admission, every businessman who takes undue advantage of another in dealing, steals."

"Pretty close cutting, that, friend Claire. It wouldn't do to talk that right out at all times and in all places."

"Why not?"

"I rather think it would make some people feel bad; and others regard themselves as insulted."

"I can believe so. But we are only talking this between ourselves. And now I come back to my rather abrupt question—Do you approve of stealing? No, you say, as a matter of course. And yet, you but just now were inclined to justify sharp dealing, on the ground that all were sharpers—quoting the saying of some, that no honest man could trade successfully in the present time. For the direct stealing of a few articles of trifling value, you hand a poor, ignorant domestic over to the police, yet feel no righteous indignation against the better-taught man of business, who daily robs his customers in some one form or another."

"You are too serious by far, Edward," returned his companion, forcing a laugh. "Your mind has fallen into a morbid state. But you will get over this one of these times. Good evening! Our ways part here. Good evening!"

And the young man turned off abruptly.

"A morbid state," mused Claire to himself, as he continued on alone. "So thousands would say. But is it so? Is honesty or dishonesty the morbid state? How direct a question! How plain the answer! Honesty is health—dishonesty the soul's sickness. To be honest, is to live in obedience to social and divine laws; dishonesty is the violation of these. Is it possible for a diseased body to give physical enjoyment? No! Nor can a diseased mind give true mental enjoyment. To seek happiness in the possession of wealth obtained through wrong to the neighbour, is as fruitless as to seek bodily pleasure in those practices which inevitably destroy the health. To me, this is self-evident, and may God give me strength to live according to my clear convictions!"

The very earnestness with which Claire mentally confirmed himself in his honest convictions, and especially his upward looking for strength in conscious weakness, showed that his mind was in temptation. He had felt somewhat depressed during the day, in view of his external relation to the world; and this feeling was increased by his observation of the fact that Parker had been advanced to the position of a partner to his old employer. It seemed like a reward for unfair dealing, while honesty was suffered to remain poor. The young man's enlightened reason—enlightened during five years' earnest search after and practice of higher truths than govern in the world's practice—strongly combated all the false arguments that were presented to his mind, during this season of his overshadowing. The combat was severe, and still continued on his arrival at home—causing his mind to be in a measure depressed.



CHAPTER X.

The increase of Claire's family had caused him, some time before, to remove from the two comfortable rooms in which were passed the first pleasant years of his married life. He now occupied a small house in a retired street, the rent of which, though moderate, drew pretty heavily on his income. But he had managed, through the prudent co-operation of his wife, not only to keep even with the world, but to lay by a small sum of money.

Few homes, in the large city wherein dwelt this obscure family, were so full of all the elements of happiness. If, sometimes, the spirit of Claire was overshadowed by passing clouds—as would unavoidably happen from his contact with the world, and his own variant states—the evening's return to the bosom of his family, generally made all bright again.

Little Fanny Elder, now ten years of age, had been steadily growing into his affections from the first. It is questionable whether his love for his own children was a purer passion. Older, by several years, than Edith, she had been to him more companionable; and had ever greeted his return at evening with warmer expressions of pleasure than were manifested by Edith, or the two younger children who had been added to the number of his household treasures.

On this evening, as Claire drew nearer and nearer to his home, and his thoughts began to make pictures of the scene within, its light and warmth penetrated his feelings, and when he opened, at length, the door, he was himself again.

First to bound into his arms was Fanny Elder. What a beautiful, fairy-like creature she was! How more than fulfilled the promise of her early childhood! Next came Edith, now six years of age, side by side with her brother Harry, a wild little rogue, and were only a few seconds behind Fanny in throwing themselves upon their father; while little baby Mary, as she sat on the carpet, fluttered her tiny arms, and crowed out her joyous welcome.

What a merry romp they all had for the next two or three minutes. When quiet came back again, baby was sitting on one knee, Harry on the other, and Fanny leaning her face on the shoulder of her "father"—for so she called him with the rest—while her glossy curls were resting in sunny clusters upon his bosom. The memory of the child's former home and parents seemed to have faded almost entirely. If the past ever came back to her, like a dream, with its mingled web of sunshine and tears, she never spoke of it. Fully had she been taken into the hearts and home of her now parents; and she rested there as one having a right to her position.

And the pure spirit who presided over this little Paradise, where was she? Present—observing all, and sharing in the delight her husband's return had occasioned. The expected kiss had not long been kept from her loving lips.

Happy household! What have its inmates to envy in those around them? Within the circle of many squares were none so rich in all the elements of happiness.

Soon after the evening meal was over, the children, after another merry romp with their father, went off to bed. When Mrs. Claire returned from the chamber, whither she had accompanied them, she held a letter in her hand.

"I had forgotten all about this letter, Edward," said she. "It was left here for you, this afternoon."

Claire took the letter and broke the seal, running his eye down to the signature as he unfolded it.

"Leonard Jasper! What is this?"

His brow contracted instantly, as he commenced reading the letter. It was brief, and in these words—

"MR. EDWARD CLAIRE—Sir: From this time I relieve you of the burden of my ward, Fanny Elder. Mrs. Jasper and myself have determined to take her into our own family, in order that we may give the needful care to her education. Call around and see me to-morrow, and we will arrange this matter. Yours, &c. LEONARD JASPER."

The face of the young man had become pale by the time he had finished reading this letter; but that of his wife, who did not yet know a word of its contents, was almost white—the effect produced on her husband filling her with a vague alarm.

"What is it, Edward?" she asked, in a low, eager whisper.

"Jasper wants us to give up Fanny."

Edith sank into a chair, exclaiming—

"Oh, Edward!"

"But she is only ten years of age," said the husband, "and our contract is to keep her until she is twelve."

"We cannot give her up," murmured Edith, tears already beginning to flow over her cheeks. "I never thought of this. What can it mean?"

"Some sudden determination on the part of Jasper, and based on nothing good," was the reply. "But, as I said, our contract is binding until Fanny is twelve years of age, and I will never consent to its being broken. He was over anxious to hold me in writing. He did not value his own word, and would not trust mine. It was well. The dear child shall remain where she is."

"But, after she is twelve, Edward? What then? Oh, I can never part with her," said Mrs. Claire, now weeping freely.

"Two years will pass ere that time. Jasper may have other purposes in view when our present contract expires."

"You will see him in the morning?"

"O yes. I must understand all about this matter. What can it mean? 'Needful care to her education!' A mere hypocritical pretence. What does he care for her, or her education? What, in fact, does he know of her? Nothing at all. Has he ever called to see her? Has he ever made the first inquiry after her? No. There is something wrong, without doubt. This movement bodes no good to our dear child. But she has one friend who will stand between her and harm—who will protect her, if need be, at the risk of his own life."

Claire, as his words indicate, had suffered himself to become much excited. Seeing this, his wife recovered, to some extent, her own self-possession, and spoke to him soothingly.

"We will wait and see what it means," said she. "Mr. Jasper cannot force her away from us now, if he would."

"After seeing him to-morrow, you can understand better what we are to expect. This note may have been written from some momentary feeling. I cannot think that he has a settled purpose to take the child from us."

"Time will show," was the abstracted response.

Not for years had so unhappy an evening been spent by Edward Claire and his wife; and when they retired, it was to pass the night in broken intervals of sleep.

Early on the next morning, Claire called at the store of Jasper, who received him with cold politeness, and at once came to the matter uppermost in both their thoughts, by saying—

"You received my note?"

"I did," was the reply.

"Well? All right, I suppose?"

"Fanny is not twelve years of age yet!"

"Isn't she? Well, what of that?" There was some impatience in the manner of Jasper.

"I agreed to take the care of her until she was twelve."

"Well—well—suppose you did? I'm her guardian, and wish to have her now in my own family. If you agreed to keep her, I did not say that she should positively remain."

"There was a contract signed to that effect," firmly replied Claire.

"A contract! Humph! Are you sure?"

"Very sure. You drew it yourself."

"Have you a copy of it?"

"I have."

Jasper seemed thrown aback by this. He had not forgotten the contract, for all his affected ignorance thereof. He only hoped that Edward had, through carelessness, lost his copy. But he was mistaken.

"A contract! A contract?" said Jasper, as if communing with his own thoughts. "I do remember, now, something of the kind. And so there was a written contract?"

"Yes, sir; and I have a copy in your own hand."

"And I am to understand, Edward, that notwithstanding my wish, as the child's legal guardian, and, therefore, the representative of her parents, to have her in my own family, that you will interpose a hasty-signed contract?"

"Mr. Jasper," said the young man, changing his manner, "we have had this child in our family for over five years, and have grown strongly attached to her. In fact, she seems to us as one of our own children; and we, to her, are in the place of parents. To remove her would, therefore, be doing a great violence to our feelings, and I know it would make her unhappy. Let her remain where she is, and you may rest assured that she will be cared for as tenderly as our own."

"No, Edward, it is no use to talk of that," replied Jasper, positively. "I wish, now, to have her in my own family, and trust that you will not stand for a moment in the way."

"But, Mr. Jasper"—

"It will be of no avail to argue the point, Edward," said the merchant, interrupting him. "I was fully in earnest when I wrote to you, and am no less in earnest now. I am certainly entitled to the possession of my ward, and will not bear, patiently, any attempt on your part to deprive me of that right."

There was an angry quivering of the lips, and a stern knitting of the brows, on the part of Jasper, as he closed this emphatic sentence. Claire felt excited, yet was so fully conscious of the necessity of self-control, that he quieted down his feelings, and endeavoured to think calmly.

"Well, what do you say?" imperatively demanded Jasper, after waiting some moments for a reply.

"We cannot part with the child," said the young man, in a low, appealing voice.

"You must part with her!" was the quick, resolute response.

"Must? That is a strong word, Mr. Jasper." Claire's manner underwent another change, as was shown by the firm compression of his lips, and the steady gaze of his eyes, as he fixed them on the merchant.

"I know it is strong, but no stronger than my purpose; and I warn you not to stand in my way. I've got an old grudge against you, so don't provoke me too far in this matter. A pretty affair, indeed, when you attempt to come between me and my legal rights and duties."

"Duties!" There was a stinging contempt in the young man's voice. The manner of Jasper had chafed him beyond all manner of self-control.

"You forget to whom you are speaking," said the latter, offended now, as well as angry. "But we will not bandy words. Will you, without further trouble, give into my hands the child of Mr. Elder?"

"I cannot do it, Mr. Jasper."

"Speak positively. Will you, or will you not do as I wish?"

"I will not," was the decided answer.

"Enough." And Jasper turned away, muttering in an undertone, "We'll soon see who is to be master here."

Claire lingered a short time, but, as Jasper showed no disposition to renew the conversation, he left the store, greatly disturbed and troubled in his mind.



CHAPTER XI.

When Edward Claire and his wife drew together on the evening of that day, after the children were in bed, both were calmer than at their previous interview on a subject that necessarily brought with it strong excitement of feeling. Both had thought much and felt much, and were now prepared to look calmly at the new relation affairs had so suddenly assumed. At dinner-time, Edward had related the substance of his interview with Jasper.

"What can he do?" asked Edith, referring now to the muttered threat of that individual.

"I don't know that he can do any thing more than withhold the regular sums heretofore paid for the support of Fanny. If he does that, I will collect them legally."

"Can't he take her away by force? Won't the law compel us to give her up?" asked Edith, in a troubled voice.

"Our contract gives us a right to her possession until she is twelve years of age. In that, the law will undoubtedly sustain us."

"The law is very uncertain, Edward."

"But our contract is plainly worded, and, in this State, private written contracts between parties to an agreement are good in law. At best, however, we can only keep her two years longer; that is what troubles me most."

"We must do our duty by her," said Edith, endeavouring to speak calmly, "during that time; and wean our hearts from her as much as possible, so that the giving of her up, when it has to be done, will cause as little grief as possible. Poor child! It will be hard for her to leave us, and go to her new home. That thought is beginning to pain me most."

"And such a home! I have seen Mrs. Jasper frequently, and, if my observation is correct, she is no true woman. Dress, it seemed to me, was all she cared for; and there was a captiousness and ill-temper about her, at times, that was, to say the least of it, very unbecoming."

"And to her care we must resign this precious one," said Edith, with a sigh. "Oh, how the thought pains me! Dear, dear child!"

"The time is yet distant," remarked Claire—"distant by nearly two years. Let it be our duty to prepare her as fully for the new relation as possible. Two years is a long time—many changes will take place, and among them, it may be, a change in the purpose of Mr. Jasper. We will hope for this, at least; yet wisely prepare for a different result."

"As things now appear, I do not see what else remains for us to do. Ah me! How like lightning from a summer sky has this flashed suddenly over us. But, Edward, we must not, in the strong trial of our natural feelings, permit ourselves to forget that dear Fanny is in the higher guardianship of One who is infinitely wise and good. If she is to pass from our care to that of Mr. Jasper and his family, it is through His permission, and He will bring out of it good to all."

"I can see that in my understanding, Edith," replied her husband; "but, it is hard to feel that it is so."

"Very hard, Edward. Yet, it is something—a great deal—to have the truth to lean upon, even though it seems to bend under our weight. Oh! without this truth, it seems as if I would now fall to the ground helpless. But, let us try and view this painful subject in its brightest aspect. It is our duty to the child to keep her, if we can, until she passes her twelfth year."

"Clearly," replied the husband.

"And you think we can do so?"

"We have two advantages—possession and a written contract guaranteeing the possession."

"True."

"These on our side, I think we have little to fear from Jasper. The great trial will come afterward."

To this conclusion, that is, to retain Fanny until her twelfth year, if possible—they came, after once more carefully reviewing the whole subject; and, resting here, they patiently awaited the result.

With what a new interest was the child regarded from this time! How the hearts of Claire and his wife melted toward her on all occasions! She seemed to grow, daily, more and more into their affections; and, what to them appeared strange—it might only have been imagination—manifested a more clinging tenderness, as if conscious of the real truth.

Weeks elapsed and nothing further was heard from Jasper. Claire and his wife began to hope that he would make no attempt to separate Fanny from them; at least not until her twelfth year. Let us turn to him, and see what he is doing, or proposing to do, in the case.

Two or three days subsequent to the time when Claire received the notification from Jasper, just referred to, two men sat, in close conference, in the office of an attorney noted for his legal intelligence, but more noted for his entire want of principle. For a good fee, he would undertake any case, and gain for his client, if possible, no matter how great the wrong that was done. His name was Grind. The two men here introduced, were this lawyer and Jasper.

"Do you really think," said the latter, "that, in the face of my guardianship, he can retain possession of the child?"

"He has, you say, a copy of this contract?" Grind held a sheet of paper in his hand.

"Yes. To think that I was such a fool as to bind myself in this way! But I did not dream, for a moment, that things were going to turn up as they have."

"It is a contract that binds you both," said the lawyer, "and I do not see that you can go round it."

"I must go round it!" replied Jasper, warmly. "You know all the quirks and windings of the law, and I look to you for help in this matter. The possession of that child, is, to me, a thing of the first importance."

"After two years she will come into your hands without trouble, Mr. Jasper. Why not wait?"

"Wait! I will not hear the word. No! no! I must have her now."

"The law will not give her to you, Mr. Jasper," returned Grind, with the utmost self-possession. "The contract is clearly expressed; and it is binding."

"Is there no way to accomplish my end?" said Jasper, impatiently. "There must be. I cannot be foiled in this matter. Even pride would forbid this. But, there are stronger motives than pride at work now."

"Can you allege ill-treatment against the young man or his wife? Or neglect of your ward's comfort? Have they failed to do their duty by her in any respect?"

"I should not wonder; but, unfortunately, I can prove nothing."

"You might call for an investigation."

"And if every thing was proved right on their part?"

"The court would, most probably, return the child to their care. I am ready to take all necessary steps for you; but, Mr. Jasper, I very strongly incline to the opinion that the least noise you make in this matter, the better. Couldn't you—for a consideration in money, for instance—overcome the reluctance of Claire and his wife to part with the child? Honey, you know, catches more flies than vinegar."

"Buy him off, you mean?"

"Yes."

"No—no! I hate him too cordially for that. He's a villain in disguise; that's my opinion of him. A low, canting hypocrite. Buy him off for money. Oh no!"

"Could he be bought?" asked the lawyer.

"Could he?" A flush of surprise lit up, for a moment, the face of Jasper. "What a question for you to ask. Hasn't every man his price? Bought! Yes, I could buy him fifty times over."

"Then do so, and in the quietest manner. That is my advice."

"I'll steal the child!" exclaimed Jasper, rising up in his excitement, and moving uneasily about the room.

Grind shook his head, as he replied—

"All folly. No man ever did a wise thing while he was in a passion. You must permit yourself to cool down a great many degrees before you can act judiciously in this matter."

"But to be thwarted by him!" An expression of the deepest disgust was in the face of Jasper.

"All very annoying, of course," was the response of Grind. "Still, where we can't make things bend exactly to our wishes, it is generally the wisest policy to bend a little ourselves. We often, in this way, gain a purchase that enables us to bring all over to our side."

It must not be supposed that Grind, in giving his client advice that was to prevent an appeal to law, did so from any unselfish friendliness. Nothing of the kind. He saw a great deal to gain, beyond; and, in his advice, regarded his own interests quite as much as he did those of Jasper. He was not, however, at this interview, able to induce the merchant to attempt to settle the matter with Claire by compromise. The most he could do was to get him to promise, that, for the present, he would make no effort to get the person of the child into his possession.

Jasper, when he left his lawyer, was less satisfied with him than he had ever been. In previous cases, he had found Grind ready to prosecute or defend, and to promise him the fullest success—though success did not always come.

Several more consultations were held during the succeeding two or three weeks, and, finally, Jasper was brought over fully to his lawyer's way of thinking.



CHAPTER XII.

The minds of Claire and his wife were yet in a state of suspense, when, some weeks after the first interview, the former received a politely worded note from Jasper, requesting him to call at his store. He went, accordingly, and Jasper received him with marked suavity and kindness of manner, and, after making a few inquiries about his family, said—

"Edward: I believe I must confess to having been a little over-excited at our last interview. The fact is, I had forgotten all about that contract; and when you brought it to my mind so abruptly, I was thrown somewhat off of my guard, and said things for which I have since felt regret. So let what is past go. I now wish to have another talk with you about Fanny Elder. How is the child?"

"She is very well."

"And she has grown, I presume, finely?"

"Yes. She's now quite a stout girl."

"What kind of a child is she? Docile and obedient?"

"None could be more so. A sweeter disposition I have never seen."

"How are you getting on now, Edward?" Mr. Jasper's voice was kind and insinuating.

"Comfortably," was answered.

"What is your salary?"

There was a momentary hesitation on the part of Claire, and then he replied—

"Five hundred dollars."

"Is that all? I was under the impression that you received a thousand. I am very certain that some one told me so. Too little, Edward—too little. You are worth more than that to any one. Are you acquainted at Edgar & Co.'s?"

"No."

"I wish you were. One of their young men is going to leave, and they will have to fill his place immediately. The salary is twelve hundred."

Claire's heart gave a quick bound.

"Shall I speak to Edgar for you?" added the merchant.

"If you will do so, Mr. Jasper," said Edward, with a sudden earnestness of manner, "I shall be greatly indebted to you. I find it a little difficult to get along on five hundred dollars a year."

"How much family have you now?"

"Three children."

"Indeed. Oh yes, you should have a higher salary. I know you would just suit Edgar & Co., and I think the place may be secured for you."

A few moments of silence followed, and then Jasper resumed—

"But, as just said, I wish to talk with you about this ward of mine. Your salary is so light that you, no doubt, find the income received through her quite a help to you?"

"No—no," replied Claire; "it costs for her boarding, clothes, schooling, etc., quite as much as we receive."

"It does?" Jasper manifested some surprise.

"Oh yes. We have no wish to make any profit out of her."

"That being the case, Edward," said the merchant, "why are you so reluctant to give her up?"

"Because," was the reply, "both myself and wife have become strongly attached to her. In fact, she seems like one of our own children."

"When she is twelve, you know," Edward, returned Jasper, "you will have to resign her. Our agreement only extends to that time." He spoke in a mild, insinuating, friendly tone of voice. So much so, in fact, that Claire, well as he knew him, was partially deceived and thrown off of his guard.

"True; unless you have seen reason by that time, which we hope will be the case, to let her remain in her present home. Believe me, Mr. Jasper,"—Claire spoke earnestly—"that Fanny will take the parting very hard, if ever it comes."

"As come it must, Edward, sooner or later," was the mild, yet firm response.

"Are you so earnest about this, Mr. Jasper? I have flattered myself that you did not really care a great deal about having Fanny."

"I am entirely in earnest, Edward," was the reply. "I may have seemed to you indifferent about this child, but such has not been the case. I have feelings and purposes in regard to her which I cannot explain, but which are near my heart. I see your position and that of your wife, and I feel for you. If compatible with what I conceive to be my duty, I would let her remain under your care. But such is not the case. Surely, it will be far better for both you and Fanny for the change that must come to be made now."

The calm, kind, insinuating manner of Jasper disarmed Claire, and made him wish that he could meet the desire of his old employer, without the painful breach in his home circle which must be the consequence. With his eyes cast upon the floor, he sat silently communing with his own thoughts for some time. The announcement of a vacancy in the house of Edgar & Co., and the offer to try and get the situation for him, had flattered his mind considerably. If he did not make some compromise in the present case, he could count nothing on the influence of Jasper. But, how could he compromise? There was but one way—to give up Fanny—and that he was not prepared to do.

Seeing that the young man remained silent, Jasper said—

"Edward, I will make you this very liberal offer. Understand, now, that I am deeply in earnest—that the possession of Fanny is a thing of great moment to me; and that to gain this desired object, I am prepared to go very far. If you will meet me in a spirit of compromise, I will become as I was some years ago, your friend; and I have the ability to aid any one materially. As just said, I will make you this liberal offer:—Let me have the child now, and for the next two years I will pay you the same that you have been receiving for her maintenance."

Claire lifted his head quickly. There was already a flush on his cheeks and a sharp light in his eyes.

"Stay—one moment," interrupted Jasper, who saw by the motion of his lips that he was about replying. "I will pay you the whole sum, six hundred dollars, in advance, and, in addition thereto, pledge myself to procure for you, within three mouths, a situation worth a thousand dollars per annum, at least."

This was too broad an attempt to buy over the young man, and it failed. Starting to his feet, with a feeling of indignation in his heart so strong that he could not repress it, he answered, with knit brows and eyes fixed sternly and steadily on the merchant—"Leonard Jasper! I thought you knew me better! I am not to be bought with your money."

As sudden was the change that passed over the merchant. He, too, sprang to his feet, and conscious that his offer of bribery, which he had humiliated himself to make, had failed, with clenched hand and set teeth, he fairly hissed out—

"You'll rue this day and hour, Edward Claire—rue it even to the moment of death! I will never forget nor forgive the wrong and insult. Don't think to escape me—don't think to foil me. The child is mine by right, and I will have her, come what will."

Feeling how useless it would be to multiply words, Claire turned away and left the store. He did not go home immediately, as he had thought of doing, in order to relieve the suspense of his wife, who was, he knew, very anxious to learn for what purpose Jasper had sent for him; but went to his place of business and laid the whole substance of his interview before his fast friend, Mr. Melleville, whose first response was one of indignation at the offer made by Jasper to buy him over to his wishes with money. He then said—

"There is something wrong here, depend upon it. Was there much property left by the child's parents?"

"Two houses in the city."

"Was that all?"

"All, I believe, of any value. There was a tract of land somewhere in the State, taken for debt; but it was considered of little account."

"Regard for the child has nothing to do with this movement," remarked Mr. Melleville. "The character of Jasper precludes the supposition."

"Entirely. What can it mean? The thing comes on me so suddenly that I am bewildered."

Claire was distressed.

"You are still firm in your purpose to keep Fanny until she is twelve years old?"

"As firm as ever, Mr. Melleville. I love the child too well to give her up. If a higher good to her were to be secured, then I might yield—then it would be my duty to yield. But, now, every just and humane consideration calls on me to abide by my purpose—and there I will abide."

"In my mind you are fully justified," was the reply of Mr. Melleville. "Keep me fully advised of every thing that occurs, and I will aid you as far as lies in my power. To-day I will call upon Edgar & Co., and do what I can toward securing for you the place said by Jasper to be vacant. I presume that I have quite as much influence in this quarter as he has."



CHAPTER XIII.

Scarcely had Edward Claire left the store of Jasper, ere the latter went out hurriedly, and took his way to the office of Grind, the lawyer, to whom he said, as he entered—

"It's just as I feared. The miserable wretch proved as intractable as iron." Jasper was not only strongly excited, but showed, in his voice and manner, that he had suffered no ordinary disappointment.

"Couldn't you buy him over?" There was a mixture of surprise and incredulity in the lawyer's tones.

"No," was the emphatic response.

"That's strange! He's poor?"

"He gets five hundred a year, and has a wife and three children to support."

"Why didn't you tempt him with the offer to get him a place worth a thousand?"

"I did."

"With what effect?"

"He wouldn't give up the child."

"Humph!"

"Isn't it too bad, that a mean-souled fellow like him should stand in our way at such a point of time? I could spurn him with my foot! Hah!"

And Jasper clenched his teeth and scowled malignantly.

"I am disappointed, I confess", said Grind. "But angry excitement never helped a cause, good or bad. We must have possession of this child somehow. Martin came down from Reading this morning. I saw him but an hour ago."

"Indeed! What does he say?"

"The indications of coal are abundant. He made very careful examinations at a great number of points. In several places he found it cropping out freely; and the quality, as far as he was able to judge, is remarkably good."

"Will he keep our secret?" said Jasper.

"It is his interest to do so."

"We must make it his interest, in any event. No time is now to be lost."

"I agree with you there. A single week's delay may ruin every thing. The coal is our discovery, and we are, in all equity, entitled to the benefit."

"Of course we are. It's a matter of speculation, at best; the lucky win. If we can get an order for the sale, we shall win handsomely. But, without producing the child, it will be next to impossible to get the order. So we must have her, by fair means or by foul."

"We must," said the lawyer, compressing his lips firmly.

"And have her now."

"Now," responded Grind.

Jasper rose to his feet.

"It's easy enough to say what we must have," remarked Grind, "but the means of gaining our ends are not always at hand. What do you propose doing?"

"I shall get the child."

"Don't act too precipitately. Violence will excite suspicion, and suspicion is a wonderful questioner."

"We must play a desperate game, as things now are, or not play at all," said Jasper.

"True; but the more desperate the game, the more need of coolness, forethought, and circumspection. Don't forget this. How do you mean to proceed?"

"That is yet to be determined."

"Will you make another effort to influence Claire?"

"No."

"Do you regard him as altogether impracticable?"

"No influence that I can bring would move him."

"You will, then, resort to stratagem or force?"

"One or the other—perhaps both. The child we must have."

"Let me beg of you, Jasper, to be prudent. There is a great deal at stake."

"I know there is; and the risk increases with every moment of delay."

Grind showed a marked degree of anxiety.

"If the child were in our possession now," said Jasper, "or, which is the same, could be produced when wanted, how soon might an order for the sale be procured?"

"In two or three weeks, I think," replied the lawyer.

"Certain preliminary steps are necessary?"

"Yes."

"If these were entered upon forthwith, how soon would the child be wanted?"

"In about ten days."

"Very well. Begin the work at once. When the child is needed, I will see that she is forthcoming. Trust me for that. I never was foiled yet in any thing that I set about accomplishing, and I will not suffer myself to be foiled here."

With this understanding, Jasper and the lawyer parted.

A week or more passed, during which time Claire heard nothing from the guardian of Fanny; and both he and his wife began to hope that no further attempt to get her into his possession would be made, until the child had reached her twelfth year.

It was in the summer-time, and Mrs. Claire sat, late in the afternoon of a pleasant day, at one of the front-windows of her dwelling, holding her youngest child in her arms.

"The children are late in coming home from school," said she, speaking aloud her thought. "I wonder what keeps them!"

And she leaned out of the window, and looked for some time earnestly down the street.

But the children were not in sight. For some five or ten minutes Mrs. Claire played with and talked to the child in her arms; then she bent from the window again, gazing first up and then down the street.

"That's Edie, as I live!" she exclaimed. "But where is Fanny?"

As she uttered this inquiry, a sudden fear fell like a heavy weight on her heart. Retiring from the window, she hastened to the door, where, by this time, a lady stood holding little Edie by the hand. The child's eyes were red with weeping.

"Is this your little girl?" asked the lady.

"Oh, mamma! mamma!" cried Edie, bursting into tears, as she sprang to her mother's side and hid her face in her garments.

"Where did you find her, ma'am? Was she lost?" asked Mrs. Claire, looking surprised as well as alarmed. "Won't you walk in, ma'am?" she added, before there was time for a reply.

The lady entered, on this invitation, and when seated in Mrs. Claire's little parlour, related that while walking through Washington Square, she noticed the child she had brought home, crying bitterly. On asking her as to the cause of her distress, she said that she wanted Fanny: and then ran away to some distance along the walks, searching for her lost companion. The lady's interest being excited, she followed and persuaded the child to tell her where she lived. After remaining some time longer in the square, vainly searching for Fanny, she was induced to let the lady take her home. After hearing this relation, Mrs. Claire said to Edith, in as calm a voice as she could assume, in order that the child might think without the confusion of mind consequent upon excitement—

"Where is Fanny, dear?"

"She went with the lady to buy some candies," replied the child.

"What lady?" asked the mother.

"The lady who took us to the square."

"The lady who took you to the square?" said the mother, repeating the child's words from the very surprise they occasioned.

"Yes, mamma," was the simple response.

"What lady was it?"

"I don't know. She met us as we were coming home from school, and asked us to go down and walk in the square. She knew Fanny."

"How do you know, dear?" disked Mrs. Claire.

"Oh, she called her Fanny; and said what a nice big girl she was growing to be."

"And so you went down to the square with her?"

"Yes, ma'am."

"And what then?"

"We walked about there for a little while, and then the lady told me to wait while she took Fanny to the candy-store to buy some candy. I waited, and waited ever so long; but she didn't come back; and then I cried."

The meaning of all this, poor Mrs. Claire understood but too well. With what a shock it fell upon her. She asked no further question. What need was there? Edie's artless story made every thing clear. Fanny had been enticed away by some one employed by Jasper, and was now in his possession! With pale face and quivering lips, she sat bending over Edie, silent for several moments. Then recollecting herself, she said to the lady—-

"I thank you, ma'am, most sincerely, for the trouble you have taken in bringing home my little girl. This is a most distressing affair. The other child has, evidently, been enticed away."

"You will take immediate steps for her recovery," said the lady.

"Oh, yes. I expect my husband home, now, every moment."

While she was yet speaking, Claire came in. Seeing the white face of his wife, he exclaimed—

"Mercy, Edith! What has happened?"

Edith could only murmur the word "Fanny," as she started forward, and buried her face, sobbing, on his bosom.

"Fanny! What of her? Oh, Edith! speak!"

The agitation of the wife was, for the time, too overpowering to admit of words, and so Claire turned to the lady and said, hurriedly—

"Will you tell me, madam, what has happened?"

"It appears, sir," she replied, "that a strange lady enticed the children to Washington Square, on their way from school"—

"And then carried off our dear, dear Fanny!" sobbed out Edith.

"Carried off Fanny!" exclaimed Claire.

"This lady," said Edith, growing calmer, "found our little Edie crying, in the square, and brought her home. Edie says the lady took them down there, and then told her to wait until she went with Fanny to buy some candies. They went, but did not return."

The meaning of all this was quite as clear to the mind of Edward Claire as it was to his wife. He understood, likewise, that this was the work of Jasper, and that Fanny was now in his possession. What was to be done?

"Our first step," said Claire, after the stranger had retired, "must be to ascertain, if possible, whether what we believe to be true in regard to Fanny is really true. We must know certainly, whether she be really in the hands of Mr. Jasper."

"Where else can she be?" asked Edith, a new fear throwing its quick flash into her face.

"We, naturally," replied her husband, "take it for granted that Mr. Jasper has put his threat into execution. There is a bare possibility that such is not the case; and we must not rest until we have, on this point, the most absolute certainty."

"For what other purpose could she have been enticed away?" said Mrs. Claire, her face again blanching to a deadly paleness.

"We know nothing certain, Edith; and while this is the case, we cannot but feel a double anxiety. But, I must not linger here. Be as calm as possible, my dear wife, in this painful trial. I will go at once to Mr. Jasper, and learn from him whether he has the child."

"Go quickly, Edward," said Edith. "Oh! it will be such a relief to have a certainty; to know even that she is in his hands."

Without further remark, Claire left his house and hurried off to the store of Jasper. The merchant was not there. From one of his clerks he learned his present residence, which happened not to be far distant. Thither he went, and, on asking to see him, was told by the servant that he was not at home. He then inquired for Mrs. Jasper, who, on being summoned, met him in one of the parlours. The manner of Claire was very much agitated, and he said, with an abruptness that evidently disconcerted the lady—

"Good evening, madam! My name is Claire. You remember me, of course?"

The lady bowed coldly, and with a frown on her brow.

"Is little Fanny Elder here?" was asked, and with even greater abruptness.

"Fanny Elder? No! Why do you ask that question?"

There was something so positive in the denial of Mrs. Jasper, that Claire felt her words as truth.

"Not here?" said he, catching his breath in a gasping manner. "Not here?"

"I said that she was not here," was the reply.

"Oh, where then is she, madam?" exclaimed the young man, evincing great distress.

"How should I know? Is she not in your possession? What is the meaning of this, Mr. Claire?"

The lady spoke sternly, and with the air of one both offended and irritated.

"Somebody enticed her away, on her return from school this afternoon," said Claire. "Mr. Jasper said that he would have her; and my first and natural conclusion was that he had executed his threat. Oh, ma'am, if this be so, tell me, that my anxiety for the child's safety may have rest. As it is, I am in the most painful uncertainty. If she is here, I will feel, at least"—

"Have I not told you that she is not here, and that I know nothing of her," said Mrs. Jasper, angrily, interrupting the young man. "This is insolent."

"How soon do you expect Mr. Jasper home?" inquired Claire.

"Not for several days," replied Mrs. Jasper.

"Days! Is he not in the city?"

"No, sir. He left town yesterday."

Claire struck his hands together in disappointment and grief. This confirmed to him the lady's assertion that she knew nothing of Fanny. In that assertion she had uttered the truth.

Sadly disappointed, and in far deeper distress of mind than when he entered the house, Edward Claire retired. If Mr. Jasper left the city on the day previous, and his wife had, as he could not help believing, no knowledge whatever of Fanny, then the more distressing inference was that she had been enticed away by some stranger.

On his way home, Claire called again at the store of Jasper. It occurred to him to ask there as to his absence from the city. The reply he received was in agreement with Mrs. Jasper's assertion. He had left town on the previous day.

"Where has he gone?" he inquired.

"To Reading, I believe," was the answer.

"Will he return soon?"

"Not for several days, I believe."

With a heavy heart, Claire bent his way homeward. He cherished a faint hope that Fanny might have returned. The hope was vain. Here he lingered but a short time. His next step was to give information to the police, and to furnish for all the morning papers an advertisement, detailing the circumstances attendant on the child's abduction. This done, he again returned home, to console, the best he could, his afflicted wife, and to wait the developments of the succeeding day.

Utterly fruitless were all the means used by Claire to gain intelligence of the missing child. Two days went by, yet not the least clue to the mystery of her absence had been found. There was no response to the newspaper advertisements; and the police confessed themselves entirely at fault.

Exhausted by sleepless anxiety, broken in spirit by this distressing affliction, and almost despairing in regard to the absent one, Mr. and Mrs. Claire were seated alone, about an hour after dark on the evening of the third day, when the noise of rumbling wheels ceased before their door. Each bent an ear, involuntarily, to listen, and each started with an exclamation, as the bell rang with a sudden jerk. Almost simultaneously, the noise of wheels was again heard, and a carriage rolled rapidly away. Two or three quick bounds brought Claire to the door, which he threw open.

"Fanny!" he instantly exclaimed; and in the next moment the child was in his arms, clinging to him, and weeping for joy at her return.

With a wonderful calmness, Mrs. Claire received Fanny from her husband, murmuring as she did so, in a subdued, yet deeply gratified voice—

"O, God! I thank thee!"

But this calmness in a little while gave way, and her overstrained, but now joyful feelings, poured themselves forth in tears.

Poor child! She too had suffered during these three never-to-be-forgotten days, and the marks of that suffering were sadly visible in her pale, grief-touched countenance.

To the earnest inquiries of her foster-parents, Fanny could give no very satisfactory answer. She had no sooner left the square with the lady mentioned by little Edith, than she was hurried into a carriage, and driven off to the cars, where a man met them. This man, she said, spoke kindly to her, showed her his watch, and told her if she would be a good girl and not cry, he would take her home again. In the cars, they rode for a long time, until it grew dark; and still she said the cars kept going. After a while she fell asleep, and when she awoke it was morning, and she was lying on a bed. The same lady was with her, and, speaking kindly, told her not to be frightened—that nobody would hurt her, and that she should go home in a day or two.

"But I did nothing but cry," said the child, in her own simple way, as she related her story. "Then the lady scolded me, until I was frightened, and tried to keep back the tears all I could. But they would run down my cheeks. A good while after breakfast," continued Fanny, "the man who had met us at the cars came in with another man. They talked with the lady for a good while, looking at me as they spoke. Then they all came around me, and one of the men said—

"'Don't be frightened, my little dear. No one will do you any harm; and if you will be a right good girl, and do just as we want you to do, you shall go home to-morrow.'

"I tried not to cry, but the tears came running down my face. Then the other man said sharply—

"'Come now, my little lady, we can't have any more of this! If you wish to go home again tomorrow, dry your tears at once. There! there! Hush all them sobs. No one is going to do you any harm.'

"I was so frightened at the way the man looked and talked, that I stopped crying at once.

"'There!' said he, 'that is something like. Now,' speaking to the lady, 'put on her things. It is time she was there.'

"I was more frightened at this, and the men saw it; so one of them told me not to be alarmed, that they were only going to show me a large, handsome house, and would then bring me right back; and that in the morning, if I would go with them now, and be a good girl, I should go home again.

"So I went with them, and tried my best not to cry. They brought me into a large house, and there were a good many men inside. The men all looked at me, and I was so frightened! Then they talked together, and one of them kept pointing toward me. At last I was taken back to the house, where I stayed all day and all night with the lady. This morning we got into the cars, and came back to the city. The lady took me to a large house in Walnut street, where I stayed until after dark, and then she brought me home in a carriage."

Such was the child's story; and greatly puzzled were Claire and his wife to comprehend its meaning. Their joy at her return was intense. She seemed almost as if restored to them from the dead. But, for what purpose had she been carried off; and who were the parties engaged in the act? These were questions of the deepest moment; yet difficult, if not impossible of solution—at least in the present. That Jasper's absence from the city was in some way connected with this business, Claire felt certain, the more he reflected thereon. But, that Fanny should be returned to him so speedily, if Jasper had been concerned in her temporary abduction, was something that he could not clearly understand. And it was a long time ere the mystery was entirely unravelled.



CHAPTER XIV.

From that time Claire and his wife heard no more from Jasper, who regularly paid the sums quarterly demanded for Fanny's maintenance. This demand was not now made in person by Claire. He sent a written order, which the guardian never failed to honour on the first presentation.

Mr. Melleville, according to promise, called upon the firm of Edgar & Co., in order to speak a good word for Edward; but learned, not a little to his surprise, that no vacancy was anticipated in the house.

"Mr. Jasper," said he, "told one of my young men that a clerk had left, or was about leaving you."

"It's a mistake," was the positive answer. "He may have meant some other firm."

"All a wicked deception on the part of Jasper," said Melleville to himself, as he left the store. "A lie told with sinister purpose. How given over to all baseness is the man!"

Claire was no little disappointed when this was told him; but his answer showed how he was gaining in just views of life; and how he could lean on right principles and find in them a firm support.

"I would rather," said he, "be the deceived than the deceiver. The one most wronged in this is Leonard Jasper. Ah! is he not preparing for himself a sad future? As for me, I am more and more satisfied, every day, that all events, even to the most minute, are in the direction or permission of Providence; and that out of the very occurrences we deem afflictive and disastrous, will often arise our greatest good. For the moment I was disappointed; but now I feel that it is all right."

No change of marked importance occurred in the family of Claire during the next two years, to the close of which period both he and his wife looked with increasing earnestness of mind. Fanny had grown rapidly during this time, and was now tall for her age—and still very beautiful. In character she was every thing the fondest parents could desire.

At last came the child's twelfth birthday. Neither Clare nor his wife referred to the fact; though it was present to both their minds—present like an evil guest. Must they now give her up? Their hearts shrank and trembled at the bare idea. How plainly each read in the other's face the trouble which only the lips concealed!

Never had Fanny looked so lovely in the eyes of Claire as she did on that morning, when she bounded to his side and claimed a parting kiss, ere he left for his daily round of business. Could he give her up? The thought choked in their utterance the words of love that were on his lips, and he turned from her and left the house.

As Claire, on his way to Mr. Melleville's store, came into the more business portions of the city, his thoughts on the child who was soon to be resigned, according to the tenor of his contract with her guardian, he was suddenly startled by seeing Jasper a short distance ahead, approaching from the direction in which he was going. Happening, at the moment, to be near a cross street, he turned off suddenly, in obedience to an instinct rather than a purpose, and avoided a meeting by going out of his way.

"How vain," he sighed to himself, as the throbbing of his heart grew less heavy and his thoughts ran clear. "I cannot so avoid this evil. It will most surely find me out. Dear, dear child! How shall we ever bear the parting!"

All day long Claire was in momentary dread of a visit or a communication from Jasper. But none came. A like anxiety had been suffered by his wife, and it showed itself in the pallor of her cheeks, and the heavy, almost tearful, drooping of her eyelids.

The next day and the next passed, and yet nothing was heard from the guardian. Now, the true guardians of the child began to breathe more freely. A week elapsed, and all remained as before. Another week was added; another and another. A month had gone by. And yet the days of a succeeding month came and went, the child still remaining in her old home.

Up to this time but brief allusions had been made by either Claire or his wife to the subject first in their thoughts. They avoided it, because each felt that the other would confirm, rather than allay, fears already too well defined.

"It is strange," said Claire, as he sat alone with his wife one evening, some three months subsequent to the twelfth birthday of Fanny, "that we have heard nothing yet from Mr. Jasper."

Edith looked up quickly, and with a glance of inquiry, into his face; but made no answer.

"I've turned it over in my mind a great deal," resumed Claire, thoughtfully; "but with little or no satisfactory result. Once I thought I would call on him"—

"Oh, no, no! not for the world!" instantly exclaimed Edith.

"I see, with you, dear, that such a step would be imprudent. And, yet, this suspense—how painful it is!"

"Painful, it is true, Edward; yet, how in every way to be preferred to the certainty we so much dread."

"O yes—yes. I agree with you there." Then, after a pause, he said, "It is now three months since the time expired for which we agreed to keep Fanny."

"I know," was the sighing response.

They both remained silent, each waiting for the other to speak. The same thought was in the mind of each. Excited by the close pressure of want upon their income, Edward was first to give it voice.

"Mr. Jasper," said he, touching the subject at first remotely, "may have forgotten, in the pressure of business on his attention, the fact that Fanny is now twelve years old."

"So I have thought," replied Edith.

"If I send, as usual, for the sum heretofore regularly paid for her maintenance, it may bring this fact to his mind."

"I have feared as much," was the low, half-tremulous response.

"And yet, if I do not send, the very omission may excite a question, and produce the consequences we fear."

"True, Edward. All that has passed through my mind over and over again."

"What had we better do?"

"Ah!" sighed Edith, "if we only knew that."

"Shall I send the order, as usual?"

Edith shook her head, saying—

"I'm afraid."

"And I hesitate with the same fear."

"And yet, Edith," said Claire, who, as the provider for the family, pondered more anxiously the question of ways and means, "what are we to do? Our income, with Fanny's board added, is but just sufficient. Take away three hundred dollars a year, and where will we stand? The thought presses like a leaden weight on my feelings. Debt, or severe privation, is inevitable. If, with eight hundred dollars, we only come out even at the end of each year, what will be the result if our income is suddenly reduced to five hundred?"

"Let us do what is right, Edward," said his wife, laying her hand upon his arm, and looking into his face in her earnest, peculiar way. Her voice, though it slightly trembled, had in it a tone of confidence, which, with the words she had spoken, gave to the wavering heart of Claire an instant feeling of strength.

"But what is right, Edith?" he asked.

"We know not now," was her reply, "but, if we earnestly desire to do right, true perceptions will be given."

"A beautiful faith; but oh, how hard to realize!"

"No, Edward, not so very hard. We have never found it so: have we?"

Love and holy confidence were in her eyes.

"We have had some dark seasons, Edith," said Claire sadly.

"But, through darkest clouds has come the sunbeam. Our feet have not wandered for want of light. Look back for a moment. How dark all seemed when the question of leaving Jasper's service came up for decision. And yet how clear a light shone when the time for action came. Have you ever regretted what was then done, Edward?"

"Not in a sane moment," replied the young man. "O no, no, Edith!" speaking more earnestly; "that, with one exception, was the most important act of my life."

"With one exception?" Edith spoke in a tone of inquiry.

"Yes." Claire's voice was very tender, and touched with a slight unsteadiness. "The most important act of my life was"—

He paused and gazed lovingly into the face of his wife. She, now comprehending him, laid, with a pure thrill of joy pervading her bosom, her cheek to his—and thus, for the space of nearly a minute, they sat motionless.

"May God bless you, Edith!" said Claire at length, fervently, lifting his head as he spoke. "You are the good angel sent to go with me through life. Ah! but for you, how far from the true path might my feet have strayed! And now," he added, more calmly, "we will look at the present difficulty steadily, and seek to know the right."

"The right way," said Edith, after she had to some extent repressed the glad pulses that leaped to her husband's loving words, "is not always the way in which we most desire to walk. Thorns, sometimes, are at its entrance. But it grows pleasanter afterward."

"If we can find the right way, Edith, we will walk in it because it is the right way."

"And we will surely find it if we seek in this spirit," returned the wife.

"What, then, had we best do?" asked Claire, his thought turning earnestly to the subject under consideration.

"What will be best for Fanny? That should be our first consideration," said his wife. "Will it be best for her to remain with us, or to go into Mr. Jasper's family?"

"That is certainly a grave question," returned Claire, seriously, "and must be viewed in many aspects. Mr. Jasper's place in the world is far different from mine. He is a wealthy merchant; I am a poor clerk. If she goes into his family, she will have advantages not to be found with us—advantages of education, society, and position in life. To keep her with us will debar her from all these. Taking this view of the case, Edith, I don't know that we have any right to keep her longer, particularly as Mr. Jasper has signified to us, distinctly, his wish, as her guardian, to take her into his own family, and superintend her education."

Edith bent her head, thoughtfully, for some moments. She then said—

"Do you believe that Mr. Jasper gave the true reason for wishing to have Fanny?"

"That he might superintend her education?"

"Yes."

"No, Edith, I do not. I believe a selfish motive alone influenced him."

"You have good reasons for so thinking?"

"The best of reasons. I need not repeat them; they are as familiar to you as they are to me."

"Do you believe that, under his superintendence, she will receive a better education than under ours?"

"She will, undoubtedly, Edith, if remaining with us she fails to bring the means of education. We are poor, Edith, and the claims of our own children—bone of our bone and flesh of our flesh—must not be forgotten."

A quick change passed over Edith. Her countenance became troubled. The difficulties in the way of retaining the child were suddenly magnified to her thoughts. Ah! how painfully did she feel that often the first steps in the way of duty are among thorns.

"Can we be just to Fanny and just also to our own children?" asked Claire.

"If we still received the old sum for her maintenance, we could. I would not ask its increase to the amount of a single dollar."

"Nor I, Edith. Were we certain of having this continued, there would be no doubt."

"There would be none in my mind. As for the higher position in society which she would attain, as an inmate of Mr. Jasper's family, that might not be to her the greatest good; but prove the most direful evil. She could not be guarded there, in her entrance into life, as we would guard her. The same love would not surround her as a protecting sphere. I tremble at the thought, Edward. How great would be her danger! Fourfold would be her temptation, and tenfold her exposure."

"We will keep her," said Claire, firmly, as his wife ceased speaking. "She must not be so exposed. God has given her to us; she is our child, for we love her as tenderly as if she were of our own blood. When her mother was taken, God transferred the love she had borne her child into your bosom, and from that time you became her mother. No, Edith, we must not let her go forth, in her tender innocence. We love her as our own; let us share with her the best we have; let her become more really our own than she has yet been."

"If," said Edith, after some moments, "we lose the regular income from Mr. Jasper, Fanny will be deprived of most important advantages. Just now we are about adding materially to the cost of her education."

"I know," replied Edward. "But if the income is withheld?"

"We have not yet applied for it."

Claire looked, for some moments, steadily into his wife's face.

"You think, then, that we should make the usual application?"

"I have not said so, Edward. My mind is far from clear. Jasper may not, now, want the trouble of Fanny. He doubtless had some purpose to subserve when he demanded her; a purpose gained, probably, at the time of her mysterious removal from the city, which I have always believed was through his agency. If you were to send for the money, as usual, it is more than probable that he would pay it."