The Friday night, which had been set aside by Clinton for his meeting with Arthur, arrived. It came in 'clouds, and storm, and darkness,' with darting lightning and crashing thunder, and all the wild fierceness which ever characterizes a thunder-storm in that climate.
Arthur had been nervous and ill at ease all day; a fact which all noticed, but which was attributed to anxiety on Guly's account, who, contrary to expectation, was still unable to be about.
Evening came, the store was closed, and all the clerks were out, save Quirk, Arthur, and Wilkins, who still lingered within, talking of Guly, and commenting on the unusual wildness of the storm. Through the day, Quirk had managed to slip a scrap of writing-paper into Arthur's hand, which had been duly read, and destroyed, and both now waited an opportunity to act upon what it contained.
Quirk quietly lighted a cigar, and, seating himself, turned good-naturedly to Wilkins, remarking:-
'I suppose you know, old boy, that I got my discharge from these premises t'other day.'
'Indeed!' returned the head-clerk, coldly, striking a match to light a cigar for himself.
'Yes, cleared out, within a fortnight, bag and baggage; all on account of that deuced little spree we had here the other night. By-the-by, Mr. Wilkins, I believe
'I told you I would report you.'
'Well, 'twasn't hardly fair, I vum. I didn't do more than the rest, but I suffer all alone. However, I don't bear anybody any ill will, and hope when we part it will be on good terms.'
'I hope so, I'm sure.'
'I've a bottle of prime old Port left of the other night; what say you to taking a drink this stormy time, to our future good friendship?'
'I've no objections-most certainly.'
Quirk went to the other end of the store, and took a bottle and some glasses from under the counter. He filled three of the glasses, and handed one to each of his friends, and kept the other for himself.
'Here's oblivion to the past, and brightness for the future.'
Wilkins smiled, nodded, and the glasses were drained to the bottom.
At this moment Quirk caught sight of Jeff, who had just been in to see Guly, but who now stood with his great eyes fixed upon the group before him, with a mixture of wonder and sadness in his glance.
'Ah, Jeff! oughtn't to forget you to-night. Have some?'
'Don't care, massa.'
Quirk filled another glass to the brim.
'Now, Jeff, you must give us a toast, or you can't have the wine.'
'Guy, massa, who ever heard of a nigga's toastin' white folks,' replied Jeff, showing his whole range of ivories.
'Must give us something.'
'Well, den, massa, if I must, I must. Here's hopin' you'll never be less de brack man's fren dan now you am.'
The negro's toast was drunk with a hearty good-will, Quirk only pausing, thoughtfully, to ask if he spoke in general terms of the colored race, or referred to himself singly; to which Jeff merely said 'Yes,' leaving the matter as obscure as before.
When his cigar was finished, Quirk buttoned his coat to the throat, and, taking an umbrella, shook hands with Arthur and Wilkins, and proceeded toward the door.
'You might stay, and share Arthur's bed to-night,' said Wilkins, calling after him. 'It's a dreadful storm to go out in, and he is alone, you know-Guly being in my bed.'
'Thank you,' returned the other, 'not to-night.'
'I wish you would,' joined in Arthur; 'that's a gloomy old room to be alone in, in such a noisy night as this.'
'Hope you ain't afraid of spirits,' laughed Quirk. 'I would really like to stay, but I have an engagement to meet a friend at the St. Louis bar-room to-night, and I ought to have been there half an hour ago. Good-night.'
He opened the door, and passed out, while a gust of wind and rain swept in through the opening.
Arthur shuddered. 'Really,' said he, speaking to Wilkins, 'I believe I am nervous to-night; I feel as fidgetty as an old woman; yet I have seen the time when I could glory in such a storm as this, and climb to the summit of old Cro'nest, on the Hudson, in its midst.'
'You have been dissipating a little of late, you know,' returned the other, patting his shoulder; 'that makes a difference. Then, you have, no doubt, been anxious about your brother, and that makes a difference. Perhaps Jeff had better take his bed to your room to-night, and lie there. He will be better than no company, with the lightning and thunder on such a spree about one's ears. What say you?'
'But Jeff is needed here.'
'No, he isn't. He only lies behind that door in the capacity of a big watch-dog,' returned the other, laughing, 'to bark if he hears any one breaking in, and he hasn't had cause to do that since I've been here. Jeff, take your mattress to Master Pratt's room, and sleep there to-night.'
Jeff obeyed, glad himself to be near somebody during this fierce battle of the elements; and Arthur told him to go on up stairs with the light, and he would be with him presently.
Leaving Wilkins smoking in the store, Arthur stole softly into Guly's sick chamber. A night-lamp was burning on the table, casting its mellow light faintly through the apartment, and displaying the sufferer's pale features, as he lay asleep, with his bright hair floating back upon his pillow.
Arthur knelt by the bedside, and took one of his brother's burning hands in his, and bowed his head upon it. He uttered no word, heaved no sigh, but knelt motionless and silent-so silent that his heavy heart-throbs were audible. When he raised his head, tears were on his cheeks, and, as he bent to press his lips to Guly's, those tears fell down upon that fair, pale brow, and glittered there like gems.
Dashing away these traces of what he deemed his weakness, Arthur passed out of the room, and shaking hands with Wilkins, as he bade him good-night, mounted the winding stairs, and entered his own chamber.
'Massa Pratt,' said Jeff, turning on his mattress, as Arthur entered the room, 'you don't think as how your brudder's gwine to die, do you?'
'Die! Heavens, Jeff, no! What put that in your head?'
'Don't know, sah! don' know nuffin' 'bout it.'
Arthur slowly undressed, and placing his clothes near the bedside, lay down upon his pillow.
'Jeff, do you ever expect to get to sleep in such a tumult as this?'
'Guy, massa, guess I does. Neber was so sleepy afore in all my life. 'Spect it's dat wine dat makes it; I don't often git sich drinks as dat. Massa Quirk mighty good just on de ebe of lebin de business. Yah! yah!'
In a few minutes Jeff was asleep; and his loud breathing was audible, even above the howling of the storm. Arthur lay still for half an hour, restless, and with ear strained to catch the faintest sound coming up from the store below. But all was still, and he rose up, and dressed himself, throwing over his other garments a cloak, which he wrapped closely about him, as if preparing to breast the weather. He laid his hand on the small door, leading down the steep staircase into the court, and was about to pass forth, when, with a sudden impulse, he dropped the cloak from his shoulders, and opened the door leading down to the store instead. Arthur could not go out upon his mysterious errand, without casting one more look upon his brother's face. Perhaps he felt it might possibly give him strength to resist temptation, or might urge him to forego some premeditated evil; whatever it was that prompted him to seek his side, he obeyed it, and in a moment stood in the door of Wilkins' chamber. The light of the night- lamp revealed the form of the head clerk lying stretched upon his bed, sound asleep, and breathing heavily; one of his strong arms encircled Guly, and his broad breast pillowed the boy's head.
