The Brother Clerks; A Tale of New-Orleans.

'I told no falsehood, Miss; I only asked your mamma a simple question, that you might get free, as I knew you wished to be.'

'But I know she thought you meant that.'

'It is wrong for people, to jump so hastily at conclusions.'

'But, Minny, you know you intended mamma should jump at that.'

'Well, Miss Della, don't chide me now about it; if it got you off without any more questions you are very glad, are you not?'

'Of course, if it wasn't falsehood.'

'It certainly was not, Miss Della; now dry your eyes, and I will show you something.'

'A letter, Minn, from-from him?'

Minny smiled, and nodded her head.

'Bathe my eyes, then, and I won't shed another tear.'

Minny obeyed; and Della, with trembling fingers, tore open the letter, and perused it.

'Is it good, Miss?'

'Sweet Minny, read it yourself.'

The quadroon took it, and, as she stood behind her mistress, the tremor which seized her frame, when she looked upon that handwriting, was unseen and unthought of by any but herself.

'Delightful, Miss Della.'

'Yes; now, Minny, put it with the rest.'

'You won't have it beneath your pillow then, for the first night?'

'No, Minn; put it away. I am going to dream of General Delville, to-night, if I can-the best and noblest, and kindest man, excepting somebody you know, that ever I knew.'

'Indeed, Miss! I'm so glad he proved so.'

'Oh, yes, Minn, I can never tell you how noble and good he is; but, Minn, these letters-Bernard's letters-you are very sure you kept them all safe, perfectly secure?'

'As the apple of my eye, Miss.'

'I have felt anxious about them sometimes of late, and have thought of offering to take care of them myself; but there's Madam Gerot in these rooms every week; I could hide nothing from her lynx eyes. I think I might do without a governess now-don't you, after having had a proposal from a General?'

'Your mamma thinks she perfects your manners, Miss.'

'All nonsense! I never have any grace or manner when she is in sight. Minny, the truth is, I am prettier and more graceful when I am right here with you, than I would be with all the French dancing-masters and ornamental governesses in the world.'

'Bless your dear heart!'

'Thank you, Minn; nobody ever blessed me save you and General Delville; he blessed me to-day in such a beautiful way, it went straight to my heart. Oh, if it is so sweet to be blessed by the rich, what must it be, Minny, to be blessed by the poor?'

Minny was silent.

'If ever I get out of fashionable society, Minn, I shall never court it again. It is a heartless sphere! I would sooner be a stone than human, with no humanity beyond flesh and blood, and that cast in a fashionable mould.'

'Your mamma is a fashionable woman, Miss, and seems very happy.'

'It is only seeming, Minn. She has more misery over an ill-fitting dress, an unshapely shoe, or an awkward glove, than you and I have in an age. I was born out of my sphere, I know I was; I ought to have been poor.'

'You may be, one of these days, Miss.'

'How so, Minn? What do you mean?'

'Disinherited.'

'Oh, no! that will never be, I am certain.'

'But you'd not be unhappy if it should happen?'

'Only for Bernard.'

'I am very happy to hear this.'

'Dear Minnie, you have so many foolish fears!'

'It is better to think of these things.'

'True enough. Good night, Minn!'

'Good night. You are going to sleep early, Miss?'

'So as to have bright eyes in the morning, dear.'

Lonely, without her mistress, Minnie also prepared for sleep; and that night Bernard's letter was placed beneath her pillow, and her dreams were of him.

Della, as she had hoped, dreamed of General Delville. All night long was his noble face before her, wearing that radiant expression which had illuminated it when he bade God bless her. Never afterwards, in all her waking hours, whether in joy or gloom, light or darkness, did Della cease to remember him as she dreamed of him there with the halo of that blessing circling him and her.

Lightly as he had seemed to give her up, it had cost the General a more severe struggle than Della had imagined. He had truly loved her, old as he was, and had not loved lightly; but he could not take to his heart the heartless wife which she had frankly admitted she must be if he married her; and Della had, unwittingly, skillfully touched a tender chord, when she made the appeal to his feelings which she did. He had felt the force of her reasoning, and had been delighted with her frankness and her confidence; though it pained him to relinquish her, he was too much a soldier to display his wounds; and, though he parted from her nominally a friend, he was never more her lover than when he that afternoon called her his child and bade her adieu.

CHAPTER XXVI.

Many and sharp the numerous ills
Inwoven with our frame!
More pointed still we make ourselves
Regret, remorse, and shame.
And man, whose heaven-erected face
The smiles of love adorn,
Man's inhumanity to man
Makes countless thousands mourn.
Burns.

'Wretch!' cried Wilkins, striking at Quirk with his brawny fist, as he rose from the prostrate form of Guly-'Wretch, you have killed him!' and, seizing the offender by the collar, with the united force of foot and hand he hurled him into the street. The two other young men, who had drunk less freely of the wine, and were less excited, passed out also, expressing to Wilkins their regret at the unfortunate occurrence. Locking and barring the door, the head clerk hurried back to Guly's side, and lifted him gently in his arms. With the tender care of a mother, he bore him to his own bed and smoothed the golden curls from the wounded temple, as he laid him softly on the pillow. The old gush of love had swept back to Arthur's heart when he saw his brother fall at his side, and with throbbing pulse he implored Wilkins to fly for a physician leaving him to watch by Guly's pillow.

Wilkins acceded to his request, and, going out by the alley door, locked it after him, and dashed down the street in search of his own physician. The sound of his heavy footsteps, as they fell upon the pavement, rang far and near through the silent streets; and, as he sped on, their echo fell upon his ear fearfully, and sent a thrill of