delight lit up the listless features, as she refolded it, and flung to the girl beside her to place in its delicate envelope.
'Oh! it is such a sweet note, Minny; such a charming, delightful note! How did he look, Min, when he was writing it? Did he frown, and bite his lips, and grow pale, in that frightful way he has sometimes, or did he look handsome and happy?'
'His back was toward me, Miss. I could not see how he looked.'
'Stupid Minny! Another time get where you can look straight into those black eyes of his, and read what they say all the while.'
'Another time I will, Miss.'
'What's the matter, Min? Come here, child. How you frighten me. You are as pale as a ghost! Tired with your long walk, that's it, puss! Kneel down here by me, and I'll play nurse for you.'
The girl knelt, and her young mistress drew toward her a bottle of lavender water, and poured it upon the bowed head before her; putting it on with her own soft hands till the long black curls glittered with the bright drops, as if decked with diamonds.
'There, Minny, you are better now. Wipe my hands and undress me.'
With gentle, but trembling fingers, the girl proceeded to obey; and as her mistress lay listlessly back in her large fauteuil, proceeded to remove each article of dress, without the slightest assistance from the languid form before her.
The jewels were laid away in their velvet cases-the ribbons folded and laid aside-the rich robe placed in the armoire, and the frilled and embroidered
Finding herself ready for bed, the young lady arose, and followed her maid into an adjoining apartment. The lace bar was held up, while she laid herself upon the luxurious couch, and Minny arranged the scented pillow beneath the fair young head.
'Anything more, Miss?'
'No, Minny; yet stay! That dear little note, hand it to me; and the bottle of ottar of roses.'
The white fingers of the heiress clasped the exquisitely cut bottle containing the precious perfume, and one clear drop was suffered to fall upon the snowy envelope of the note. She then pressed the paper to her lips, and laid it away beneath her pillow.
'Anything more, my lady?'
'Yes, Minny. Did you ever have a lover? Some one, Minny, to love you with all his heart, and swear he'd die for you-and to write you such tender letters-and to-and to-'
Della Delancey slept with the love-letter of Bernard Wilkins beneath her pillow.
Minny had stood with every vestige of color faded from her cheek as her young mistress spoke, and her whole frame quivering with emotion, which she tried in vain to conceal. An expression of relief crossed her features, as her questioner fell away into slumber, and, hastening from the bedside, she sought the outer-room, and flung herself down into the large chair Della had so recently vacated.
'Some one to love me,' she murmured, brokenly. 'Ah! yes, yes! One who swore to love me; one who vowed to cherish me, only to forget his oath. Fool! idiot! that I was, to thus yield up my passionate love, forgetful of my birth! But did he not promise all? Were we not wed? God of the just-who sees me-yes! yes! yes!'
Springing to her feet, Minny paced the floor wildly. Her white closed teeth glittered through the portals of her parted lips-her black eyes flashed and sparkled, and rained down the tears among the curls upon her bosom, while her white hands were clutched together, or wrung fiercely.
She looked not unlike a personified tigress, lashed into fury by the torment of an enemy.
Suddenly her whole aspect changed. The clutched hands unclasped, the tears ceased to fall, the knotted brow relaxed-and, choking down her sobs, Minny approached the bedside of her young mistress. Softly she raised the rose-hued netting, and slid her hand beneath the pillow. It rested there a moment quietly, and then was gently withdrawn, holding the note tightly.
Gliding away with her treasure, she seated herself by the lamp, and perused its contents. Every word, every line, every expression of endearment, and every sentence of fondness, she drank eagerly in, and seemed to write upon her heart.
Again and again she read it; but there were no more signs of emotion, save that now and then her teeth were pressed tight into her lip, or her hand laid hard against her heart.
CHAPTER VIII.
What pen can describe the anguish of Arthur, when he found himself the inmate of a watch-house! His arrest had completely sobered him, and his intoxication was succeeded by a deathly and overpowering sickness, which he found it impossible to overcome.
His companion treated the whole affair with the utmost indifference, and when the key was turned upon them had thrown himself heavily upon a bench, and immediately gone off into a drunken slumber. There were a few other prisoners besides themselves, bearing such a villainous, cut-throat appearance that Arthur shuddered as he looked at them.
As his sickness in a measure subsided, he threw himself face downwards upon the hard, unyielding bench, and to escape the jeers of his companions, drew himself close up in a corner near the door, and pretended to be asleep. But alas! no sleep came to those burning eyeballs through those long-long hours, and though racked with a torturing headache and feverish thirst, he knew no way to relieve himself, and dared not move lest he should again encounter the ridicule of the brutes around him.
He thought of himself as he was a few short hours before, wending his way to church at his brother's side, happy in the consciousness of duty well performed, and proud in the love and esteem which he felt were but his due. He contrasted the morning with the night; and saw himself the inmate of a guard-house, herding with men whose very breath seemed crime and profanation, and whose every word was blackened with oaths or curses. He felt that the stain of guilt was on his hitherto pure brow, traced there by the finger of a justly angry God, whose laws he had violated, whose commands he had broken, and whose day he had abused.
He thought of the coming morning, with the public trial, when he would be turned forth with the stamp of a thief or drunkard upon him, and the finger of scorn pointing derisively at him. He thought of his blue-eyed, pure- minded brother, mourning his absence, and weeping over his shame. He remembered his mother-and the hot tears, so long pent up, gushed like raindrops through his trembling fingers, and bathed the hands which held that stricken head.
A sense of weight and oppression came over him-it seemed as if he could not breathe-and gasping, he sprang from his recumbent position. A glow of relief crossed his features as he saw that all the men around him were asleep, and glancing through the barred window he saw the streaks of light in the east, announcing the approach of day. At this moment he heard the key turned in the lock, and thinking that other prisoners were about being admitted, and not caring either to see or be seen by them, he again threw himself full length upon the bench. An instant more and a gush of cool air swept, over him, and a hand fell cautiously on his shoulder.
He raised his head, and met the twinkling eyes of Mr. Clinton fixed upon him.
'Hush!' whispered Clinton, laying his finger on his lips, as he saw Arthur about to speak. 'Not a word; pick yourself up as noiselessly as you can, and get out of this hole. You are free.'
Arthur glanced towards the door, and saw there the watchman who had arrested them, standing with a dogged expression of countenance in the gray light, and shaking nervously in his hand a gold coin.
He comprehended in a moment, as it were instinctively, that Clinton had procured his release by a bribe; and though he felt to rejoice in his freedom, he shrunk at feeling that he must be under obligations to such a man for it.
He drew his hat over his eyes, and went out softly. As he gained the open air, Quirk joined him, leaning on the arm of Mr. Clinton, and evidently not yet wholly recovered from what he was pleased to denominate a 'dem fine
