"And what is the latest morceau?" inquired Mr Aylett, indulgently,

when Mabel had gone.

He was standing by his wife's chair, and she leaned her head against

him, her bright eyes uplifted to his, her hair falling in a long,

burnished fringe over his arm--a fond, sparkling siren, whom no man,

with living blood in his veins, could help stooping to kiss before

her lips had shaped a reply.

"You wouldn't think it an appetizing morsel! But I listened with

interest to our unsophisticated Mabel's account of her Quixotic

expedition to what will, I foresee, be the haunted chamber of

Ridgeley in the next generation. Her penchant for adventure has, I

suspect, embellished her portrait of the hapless house-breaker."

"A common-looking tramp!" returned Winston, disdainfully. "As

villanous a dog in physiognomy and dress as I ever saw! Such an one

as generally draws his last breath where he drew the first--in a

ditch or jail; and too seldom, for the peace and safety of society,

finds his noblest earthly elevation upon a gallows. It is a

nuisance, though, having him pay this trifling debt of

Nature--nobody but Nature would trust him--in my house. There must

be an inquest and a commotion. The whole thing is an insufferable

bore. Ritchie has given him up, and gone to bed, leaving old Phillis

on the watch, with unlimited rations of whiskey, and a pile of

fire-wood higher than herself. But I did not mean that you should

hear anything about this dirty business. It is not fit for my

darling's ears. Mabel showed even less than her usual discretion in

detailing the incidents of her adventure to you."

Flattery of his sister had never been a failing with him, but, since

his marriage, the occasions were manifold in which her inferiority

to his wife was so glaring as to elicit a verbal expression of

disapproval. It was remarkable that Clara's advocacy of Mabel's

cause, at these times, so frequently failed to alter his purpose of

censure or to mitigate it, since, in all other respects, her

influence over him was more firmly established each day and hour.

Old Phillis, Mabel's nurse and the doctress of the

plantation--albeit a less zealous devotee than her master had

intimated of the potent beverages left within her reach, ostensibly

for the use of her patient should he revive sufficiently to swallow

a few drops--was yet too drowsy from the fatigues of the day,

sundry cups of Christmas egg-nogg, and the obesity of age, to

maintain alert vigil over one she, in common with her

fellow-servitors, scorned as an aggravated specimen of the always

and ever-to-be despicable genus, "poor white folks." There was next

to nothing for her to do when the fire had been replenished, the

bottles of hot water renewed at the feet and heart, and fresh

mustard draughts wound about the almost pulseless limbs of the dying

stranger. She did contrive to keep Somnus at arm's length for a

while longer, by a minute examination of his upper clothing, which,

by Dr. Ritchie's directions, had been removed, that the remedies

might be more conveniently applied, and the heated blankets the

sooner infuse a vital glow through the storm-beaten frame. The

ancient crone took them up with the tips of her fingers--ragged

coat, vest, and pantaloons--rummaged in the same contemptuous

fashion every pocket, and kicked over the worn, soaked boots with

the toe of her leather brogan, sniffing her disappointment at the

worthlessness of the habiliments and the result of her search.




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