Grand Rapids Herald-Review Newspaper, July 31, 1897, Page 6

> * brain fever! COND CHAPTER XXII—(Continued.) “Lor’, chile, ain’t I done tell ye ly all I know ‘bout it? How de ¢ap’n fotch you here an’ put you in my But what I ’spects *bout it, if you v t to know dat, is dis: how you n se, Colonel Grivill, if he was your mar Mar , ‘lone sold you on de sly to on. Dat’s what I ’spects! Jere dirty tricks sometimes, an’ don’t think nuttin’ ‘tall of ‘em, either.” “Sold? Master? Why, woman, witat are yeu talking about! Colonel Gre- ville is my husband!” exclaimed As- to weep with vexation, however quite undefined. from suspecting the real horrors of her posi- tion. “He! he: he! Colonel Griville your hisband! now he's dene sole you! you're a purty gal, too, you ere crazy or intoxsi- Hew dare you taik ef me and husband in that way!’ exclaimed Astrea, indignantly starting up. In the suddenness of her action, her hair fell forward, and flowed, a long, black veil, down over her bosom! She snatched it up and gazed at it with, unmitigated amazement! She pulled at it, expecting it to fall off like a wig; but when she found that these raven tresses grew upon her head— her head, that had been glorious in its wealth of golden hair—her mouth opened, and her lips dilated with won- der! While thus staring aghast at her changed hair, she noticed the pale- brown hue of her once lily-fair hands and arms. And she raised those af. frighted eyes to the face of the wo- man, exclaiming: “Fiend! What diabolical art is this you have been practicing upon me? Where my dear old guardian? Where my husband? Oh, Fulke! Fulke! where are you? Oh, wake me! wake me! from this hideous dream! Fulke! Fulke! I have the nightmare! Throwing her arms wildly forward, she rushed from the berth; but she was instanth, opped by the negro woman, down, honey; I call de captain. He tell you all about it better ’an I ean.” More from giddiness and exhaustion than in the spirit of ,compliance, As- trea sank in the sole chair of the cab- in, and again turned her eyes in wild amazement upon her own changed hair and skin. The negro woman—she was short, fat and very black, and wore a dark-blue gown and a bright bandanna turban— waddled up the stairs in ch of her master. A few minutes passed away, and then the captain came down into the cabin alone, and approached her. “So you wish to see me, my pretty one! Well, I have no very particular objection,” he said, stooping down, throwing his arm around her waist, npting to imprint a kiss upon But, at the approach of his th, she suddenly shrieked, started up, and sprang to the corner of the cabin. where she stood like a young leopardess at bay, her face ghastly, her eyes dilated, her very hair bristling up with mingled amazemeut, horror and defiance! The captain did not attempt to pur- sue her, but nk into the chair from which she had fled, where he remained, studying hey ‘vith curiosity. “Who are you, nan?’ she at length broke forth; “who are you, that dare insult me thus? Whe are you, La: “Your slave, pretzy one, if you will; your master, whether you will or no!” “Insclent! You are the captain of hip, I suppose?” ye—and of you, my dear!” retch! do you suppose that you ean insult me with impunity! Where is my husband?’ “Your husband, girl? In the moon, perhaps! certainly, not on earth! You never had a husband, my girl. Young women of your peculiar color seldom reach the dignity of marriage,” said the captain, coolly crossing one leg over the other, while he took from his pocket a cigar, lighted it and com- menced smoking away. “Dastard! how dare you speak to me in that style! But rest assured it shall not go unpunished. Colonel Greville will hold you to a stern account for ‘these outrages offered to his wife!” ex- claimed Astrea, indignantly. “Ha! ha! ha! was the only com- ment. “And since you are the captain of this ship, sir, I ecommand_you to tell me how I was conveyed hither? That I was brought here through foul felony I begin to be aware!” “Come, come, Zora, enough of this raving!” said the captain, coolly puf- fing at his e‘gar. “Zora—?’ slowly repeated the vic- tim, in amazement. “Certainly, Zora! that is your name, is it not? or have you really forgotten that, as well as your position in the world: “Zor my name is Astrea! I am the wife of Colonel Greville, as, no doubt, you know full well!” “My poor girl! what a pity it is that ore so young and pretty as yourself should be the victim of such a mono- mania! ‘I'ry to shake it off, Zora!” “I tell you Iam not Zora! I am As- trea de Glacie, wife of Colonel Fulke Greyitie!” “Ha! ha! ha! oh, doubtless! And to-morrow you may fancy yourself. the widow of General Napoleon Bona- parte! Try to shake off this haunting monomania. It is the remnant of your you were only the cham- bermaid in the steamboat that brought Colonel and Mrs. Fulke Greville to the island where they were to spend their honeymoon, Thinking the position of ehambermaid in a steamboat unworthy of so beautiful a girl as yourself, I »purchased you for eight hundred del- lars from your master. You took the travsfer rather hard, andy had a brain fever, from which you are only now In your delirium: you fan- cied yourself Mrs. Fulke Greville, as you might have fancied yourself Mrs. «Pontius Pilate, or Mrs, Julius Caesar. NED aki 9 WEALTH. O > 4 But I will help yoy to reyover your reason by bringing to your memory one significant fact. Mrs, Fulke Gre- ville I came down in the same boat with and had ainple opportunity of kvowing. Mrs. Fulke Greville, the was the fairest among fair wome with a sno vy complexion, golden h: and blue eyes! And you are as da as a Spaniard, with an olive skin a» ~——¥j jet-black hair. Come, does that bri you to reason?’ “Oh, I know! I know! some evil ¢ has been practiced to darken me! can see that! For what purpose [ not know! Oh, heaven! but this maddening! I must try to preser my reason! try to recollect with mo distinctness the circumstances ing my loss of consciousness! try bring my understanding to judge these things! try to summon coura to bear this misfortune, until I stru gle out of it, God helping. me!” e claimed Astrea, clasping her temples between her hands. “Yes; endeavor to recover your rea- son, my good girl. It is the best thipg that you can possibly do,” said the cap- tain, as he arose and went on deck. When relieved of the captain's hate- ful presence, even amid the anguish of her heart, Astrea @:epped her head upon her hands, closed her eyes, and gave up her mind to intense thought. Two things puzzled her—the manner and motive of her abductidn. First, | by the severest effort of memory, she | recovered some knowledge of the m: ner. She now recollected distinct the events of that fatal night. The presertiment of evil that had over- shadowed her mind, while sitting alone in her chamber—the dark-robed figure that had advanced upon her from be- lind, and that she now knew to have been a reality; her own sudden start, and smothered shriek; the instantane- ous application of the sponge filled with chloroform to her mouth and nos- trils; her feeble resistance, that so on yielded to the overpowering | agent: and even the silvery ringing in her brain before she fell into insensi- bility. All this she now remembered with sufficient assurance to have justi- | fied her in giving testimony as to the facts before a court. She studied out also, the m of her sudden change of complexion. She remembered that there were certain chemical agents | that would dye the hair and stain the skin, and knew that it must have been through these the change was effected. So far, the manner of her abduction anid the means of her disguise were perfectly clear to her. But the motive | of that abduction and disguise—what was that? Simply to take her to the South and sell her as a quadroon girl? Such, from the conversation of the cap- tain, it would appear to be! Yet she could not believe this to be the sole | object. Such a motive might have in- fluenced some poor wretch of a kidnap- | er, but not this man, the master of a | fine brigantine. No! there was some- thing deeper than a small, mercenary motive in her abduction! Certain half- faded memories of her childhood—the old chateau, the flag-tower, the grand- pere—the lorg, dream-like voyage with | people among whom she could not un- derstand nor make herself under- stood in language—all these revived and connected themselves strangely with the present facts of her abduc- tien and transformation, and con- vinced her that some secret enemy had some powerful motive in her suppres- sion—though of the nature of that mo- tive she could form no conjecture. Having thus, as nearly as possible, as: certained her real position, her present bondage and future dargers, her next | care was to study in what manner she should deal with them. Astrea was a woman of great intellect, strong will and firm neryes. Hitherto these en- downients had ne called into ‘tion. But thi range and terrible ordeal suddenly developed them to become an easy victim! She would be equal to the situation! She knew that during the sea-veyage, at least, there would be no possibility of escape, ex- cept—througi: suicide, and that but one event could possibly justify such a desperate act. She formed her resolu- tions accordingly. First of all, to pos- sess herself, as soon as possible with some deadly weapon, with which she might protect herself against the ad- | vances of the smuggler captain or any of his crew. Secondly, to indulge in no yain repinings or weak fears, but to strengthen her mind ard body to meet and conquer her fate! ‘To effect this, she resolved to pray earnestly to jod for aid—and to use all earthly means besides—to take her usual quan- tity of food and drink, and exercise and air, and sleep, if possible. Third- ly, that as soon as the ship should reach port, no matter where, she would invoke the aid of the first man or wo- man that she met, by stating her case and demanding to be taken before a magistrate for its examination. Hav- ing thus ascertained her position and formed her course of action, Astrea grew composed. To carry out the first item of her resolutions, she arose and searched the cabin, in the hope of find- ing some sharp instrument, if no bet- ter than a case knife, that she could conceal about her person. She looked over the top of the bureau, and then drew out the drawers one by one. } They were nearly all filled with a gentleman’s wearing. apparel. And Astrea looked through three or four without finding what she wanted. At length, however, her hopes were more than realized. In the fourth or fifth drawer she found a perfect bijou of a dagger, of tempered steel, small, bright and keen. She seized it eagerly, and closed the drawers. “Come, little friend! Come,” she said, fondly placing it. in her bosom. “Rest near my heart, and be to me both shield and sword!” CHAPTER XXIV. Astrea had scarcely concealed her weapon before the door at the head of the stairs was darkened, and the form of the negro woman appeared, bearing a waiter with her breakfast. Astrea had scarcely any appetite; yet, pursuant of her design to keep up her strength, she sat down at the little fixture table upon which the waiter was placed, and drank a cup of coffee and ate a roll and a slice of ham. “You feels better now, honey, don’t you?’ inquired the kind-hearted col- ored woman, who had watched Astrea with great satisfaction. “Much better, thank you! What is your name, that I may know what to call you?” “Wenus, chile—dough why dey give me dat name in baptism, I’m sure I don’t know! cause you see, honey, as I never had no chillun nyther to nu nor yet to wean! Derefore, why We- nus?” “Ng van knaw where the chin t ~9- if i le iif 4 to ia t -d “Lor, chile, not many weeks. Dis I may say is my fust voyage ’long ob Marse Cap'n. Minute he bought me he put me into a gig, ’longside ob his- self, an’ druv me into de city.” “What city?’ here interrupted As- trea. “Hi, honey, New Orleans! what oder city could it be? Dat’s de only city in de worl’, ain’t it? An’ our ole planta- shum was a little way out’n it. An’ so, you see, it took Marse Cap’n only *bout one hour to drive to de city, an den to de w’af, an’ den he put de gig | into de libery stable, an’ put me into a row-boat an’ took me off to dis ship, as was layin’ ’siderable way off, down de ribber. An’ den we set sail, and’ neb- ber see no mo’ lan’ ’till we come to dis cvik, An’ den! dat all I know! An’ 1 has my s’picions as Marse Cap’n ain’t all he ought for to be! But I don’t let ou! I lays low an’ says nuffin, ’case what can a poor woman do? An’ so you see, as he is ’ceitful to eberybody, I must be ‘ceitful to him in self-fence. Dat de reason he trusses me for to wait on you! ’ca’se I makes ’tence to | ike him.” “Such deception seems to be a cruel alternative, but I hope that the sin— for it is a great sin—will be charged only to those who compelled it,” said Astrea, gravely. “Jes’ so, honey; jes so, chile; I allus says to myse’f, an’ likewise to de’cord- | in’ angel, ‘set it down to de ’count of Marse Cap’n! He my marster, an’ *sponsible for all my debts! dere!” Astrea mused for a little while, and the result of her musing was the deter- mination to make a friend of this poor negress. As an initiative step, she in~ quired “Venus, whom do you take me to be?” “Hi, honey! how I know? But I ’spose you some young gal as Marse Cap’n took a fancy for, an’ bought from your marster.” _“And what do you think he means to do with me?” “Lor, chile, what de use 0’ axin’ me? How can I tell? But I ’spects how he’s gwine ither to keep you for hisself, or else to sell you to sonie rich gemman down at New Orleans.” “Then you must think I am a— ve!’ gasped Astrea, flushing fiery- red at the word. “Sartain, honey, dough you is berry purty, an’ berry purty-speken, too; else why here?’ . “Then you are mistaken, Venus! I am by position a young lady. I was seized last night in my own bed room and brought here by a band of ruffi- ans.” “Lors-a-messy on top 0’ my poor old black soul! Is it trufe you's a-tellin’ me, honey?’ exclaimed the negress, in dismay. ‘ “The truth, as the Lord of Heaven iknows,” replied Astrea, solemnly. “But what was you a-doin’ of all de time, chile? Why’n’t you holler mur- der an’ ‘larum de house?” “They were too quick for me! One o* them stole upon me from behind, and clapped a sponge full of chloro- form over my mouth and nose, and made me unconscious. Then it must have been that they took me here.” “Well! if ebber I heerd tell ob sich in all my born days! Dough I knows what dat cholera-form is, too! I took it when de dentis’ took out dis yere back toof ob mine! An’ I tell you jes’ what, it sont mg so near de gates ob hebben dat I h€ard de angels singin’ all trough my head! I did, indeed, chile! It de trufe I’m a-tellin’ ob you. An’ when I come back to this yeth, my toof was out an’ I know nuffin ’tall *bout it. An’ ef it had o’ been my head, it weuld o’ been de same t’ing!” “It was so with me. When I suc- cumbed to the influence of chloroform and lost myself, I was in my bedcham- ber. When I recovered from its ef- fects and came to myself, I was in this cabin. And I know no more of the transportation than you did of the extraction of your tooth.” “I bliebs yo, honey! I bliebs ebery word you says!” “Then I hope you will be my friend?” “Yes, chile, ’'ll fend you! Dough to do dat, I shall have to be as secrety an’ *eeitiul as Marse Cap'n hisself. I shall have to ’tend to hate an’ ’spise you on de face of de yeth. Den he’ll let me *tend to you!” Astrea sighed deeply. Deception was abhorrent to her very soul, and—— “Is there no other way?” she asked. “Hi, honey! what oder way? How we—den gwine to get along wid a *ceitful villain, "less we ’ceives him? If he tink I your frien’,-he make me stay away from you, an’ p’int ob de he-debbils to wait on you! ’case, you see, I knows Marse Cap’n! I done cotch his bref!” “And now, then, what do you sup- pose he intends to do with me?” “Well, I said furst, honey, ither to keep you for hisse’f, or else to ’spose 0’ you to some rich gemman in New Or- leans! Leastways, I t'ink so! else why steal you away from your friends? But you tell me more ’bout it, honey; den maybe I gib better judbment.” Astrea complied with this request, and told her new-found hrmble friend as much of her story as she deemed proper to, be made }nown:; in effect, that she was the adopted daughter of Captain Fuljoy, of the isle, and the wife of Colonel Fulke Greville, of the army. “An’ so dey stole you away, out’n your own bedroom! Well! if ebber 1 heerd tell o’ sich a ting in all de days o’ my life! Tell you what, honey! you stoop down here an’ listen; I has my misgibbens as Marse Cap’n is no bet- ter’an a smuggler! An’ | ‘tends to run away de furst: chance I gets! An’ now I mus‘n’t linger here much longer, fear ob ’spicion,” said the woman, in a low yoice, as she took up the waiter and left the cabin, CHAPTER XXV. S ely any discovery in relation to the captain could have increased the ill-opinion Astrea already had of him. Deep was her grief for all that she had left behind her in the past; ex- cessive was her terror of all that was going to meet her in the future. And now, added to these, was unmitigated norror at finding herself in the power of a smuggler! But she knew that for her, in her present circumstances, to yield to the fatal power of these sub- duing passions would be her total ruin. Again, as a second demand, she was forced to rally her sinking cour- age. And now she took what my read- ers will think a strange step, She was half-suffocating in the close air of the cabin. . She resolved to go on’ deck, to breathe the fresh air, and to meet bravely, not boldly, the faces of her captors. She went up, and found the captain en deck. He came forward to meet her, saying: “Why, now this is right, my girl! Never mope! moping never did any one any good yet! Besides, it would spoil your beauty. If you have left a sweetheart behind, we will find you quite as good a one where we are going.” Astrea passed him without making any answer, and advanced to the star- board side of the ship, and remained looking over the bulwarks. “What? Sulking? Why, that is al- most as bad as moping!” said the cap- tain, Iaughing. She did not answer, to hear. “Oh, very well! all right,” laughed the man, walking away in another di- rection. ‘ Astrea breathed more freely. She had dreaded lest he should follow her. But, in fact, from this time to the end of the voyage, he never more molested her with offensive attentions, His one impudent attempt to kiss her in the cabin was his first and last sin of that sort. Astrea, with all her beauty, was evidently not to his taste. He was as dark as a gipsy by nature; Astrea was rendered so by art; they were person- ally too much alike for him to be strongly attracted by her. This cir- | cumstance perhaps it was that saved her. Astrea went on deck every day; but her manner while there repelled the slightest advances from any of the crew, ignoring even those little civili- ties, such as placing a seat, or raising an awning, that some of the sailors respectfully offered her. She talked with no one but Venus, and only with her when they were alone in the cabin. Venus slept each night on a narrow mattress laid down on the floor beside Astrea’s berth. No one else ever entered the cabin. Often at night, when all was still, Astrea would enter into conversation with heryhumble friend, and try to for- get for a while her own sorrows and terrors in sympathizing with the fears and griefs of poor Venus. Strangely enough, none of the poor negre: troubles were selfish. She had left be- hind her neither parent, husband nor child. All her regrets were, therefore, given to “de ols missus an ’de chil- lum,” left destitute by the death of her master and the rap: y of his, credit- ors. And all fears were that she should be drawn into sin through asso- ciation with the smuggler captain and his crew. For the rest, her deepest sympathies were for Astr into wnose bosom she tried to infuse hope and courage. “Sider, chile,’ she said, one night, as she lay on the mattress beside her keful companion, ‘jes’ you ‘sider young lady can’t be hauled off like a fractious nigger, an’ no fuss made about'n it. Yoour frien’s an’ ‘lations soon be on your track an’ fetch you back.” “Ah! my friends! Ah! my dear hus- band! Ah! my good guardian! How great their sorrow must be for their poor Astrea! And, oh! even if they ever find me, they will never know me in this dreadful disguise!” “Nebber you misdoubt, honey! Dey sure to know you! Dey know your beautiful eyes, an’ your sweet, thrushy voice! An’ as to your brown ’plexion, honey, that will wash out arter a time! You'll see!” “Ah, ne! I fear not, for it seems to me that soap and water actually sets the color. It is deeper than at first! Ah! it was a fiendish act!” “’Pletely deblish! Ef dey’d dyed you good, honest, vartuous black, like me, now, ’twouldn’t a-been so bad! But to gib you that ere undecent, mixed blood color! Oh!” Perhaps Astrea did not consider that an aggravation of the offense, but she made no comment. “Have you any idea yet where we are bound, or how far we are from port, or when we shall arrive?” she in- quired. “Yes, chile; Cap’n don’t make no se- cret of it now! I hear de debbils on de deck talkin ’bout it. It is back to New Orleans we’s goin’! Dough why goin’ back there arter goin’ nowhere but up that little crik, passes of my sensori- ams to tell! Seems like de whole y’yge was made purpose to bring you away! *Case dis is sartin. F’om de time we lef? New Orleans to de time we drap anchor in dat crik, we nebber stopt. An’ den soon as you fotch on board— nor even seem "whew! up anchor an’ away back to where we come from! Tell you what, it looks mighty rum!” - “It does, indeed, lok as though my unhappy self has been the sole object of the voyage!” “Um! may depen’ dere’s more in it dan we can see!” “Yhere is! well, I suppose my fate will be decided at New Orleans! Do you know when they expect to reach that city?” “Bout day after to-morrow, if de win’ keep fair; leastwise, so de sailors say! An’ now, honey, look here; it done struck eight bells! dat mean mid- night dis time; 80, take my ‘vice, an’ go to sleep.” As this counsel was delivered in a very drowsy tone—showing that nei- ther grief, fear nor pity could longer keep awake this woman of a sleepy- headed race, Astrea bade her good- night, and addressed her own thoughts to prayer. ; The wind continued fair, and on the evening of the third day from this the Kite entered the Mississippi, and cast anchor below the city of New Orleans. And Astrea was locked fast in her cabin. CHAPTER XXVI. . When Fulke Greville was consigned to his cell in the prison of Lemingham, his first care was to ask for writing materials to address a letter to his uncle. He paused long in thought be- fore he commenced this letter. He re- membered that the kind friend to whom he was about to send it was now quite aged, was tenderly attached to Astrea and to himself, and would be shocked nearly into the grave by the sudden news of her death and his arrest. That such a shock would leave him in no condition to travel. In consequence of these reflections, Fulke resolved to write, dating his letter from Fuljoy’s Island, as if nothing was amiss, and entreat his uncle to come down immediately. This was done in the fewest possible 1i: and a messenger paid to ride in haste to Cornport and post the letter there, as at the usual postoffice of the family. At the same time he addressed a letter to Major Burns, entreating him to look out for the next arrival of the Busy Bee, and meet Captain Fuljoy, and brea k to him, as gently as possible, the dreadful events of that fatal night upon the island. It was on the morning of the second day after the dispatch of this letter that Captain Fuljoy was sitting at an early breakfast in his private parlor at “Brown's,” feeling pretty lonesome and depressed for the want of his pret- ty Daney and his brave Fulke, and blasting (he was going to say) “the new-fangled tom-foolery” that com- pelled a bride and bridegroom to run away from all their lends for a month or so after marriage, when the waiter entered with a letter on a silver tray. The captain seized it with a broke the seal, and devoured its tents almost at a glance. Th he burst out into a good, jolly fit of loud laughter, rubbed his hands in the e. cess of his delight, and exclaiming— “The young monke the spoiled children! I can’t be quiet even for a week! But it is little Daney! I know it is little Daney! Can't be vy away from ‘Grandpa,’ husband or no husband! but just send and order him to come down immediately! Just like my delightful, affectionate, perempto- ry little Dane; What the devil (1 w: going to vy) are you grinning at, you laughing hy ?” he broke off, and demanded of the poor servant, who, in pure sympathy, stood, silver tra in hand, smiling at the captain’s delight. “Go,” he continued, “directly, and call a carriage for me. If I catch the train I shall be in time for the boat—and, hey! I say! tell them to make out my bill, and send someone here instantly to take my luggage down!” The waiter hastened to comply, and the captain immediately began to pack his trunks—hurriedly, it is true, but y, aS most men do, when they thrust shi and boots, and pocket handkerchiefs, and shoes, all in one and make the lid go dawn upon the unequal hill of cloth- ing by hard pressure and harder swearing! The captain’s long -life had taught him neatness, order and compactness. And he went about his work as deftly as a won could, But to do it more effectually, he tore off his coat, and dragged the trunks from his bed room into his parlor, where he had more space. And he was busily en- gaged stooping over the largest one, and trying to make a coat all right an- gles fold smoothly into an oblong square, and his short sleeves were rolled up, and his face was red and h hair blousy, when the waiter re-en- tered with the silver tray, and with this time a card upon it. “A gentleman to see you, sir,’”” said the waiter, as the captain looked up from his work. “Can't see him! can’t see anybo off to catch the train in twenty min- utes!” exclaimed the captain, without deigning to touch the card. “The gentleman is coming up, sir! he is at the, door!” “Blast the gentleman (I was going to say)—what the deuce does——” The captain’s words were eut short by the entrance of the stranger—a tall, stately, dark-complexioned and very handsome young man, who stood bow- ing before him with grave courtesy. The captain looked up angrily, but immediately burst out into a perfect shout of vapture, rushed toward the visitor, and seized and shook both his hands, exclaiming, amid peals of laughter: “Well, you dog, here is a go! So you couldn't stay away from your old un- cle even with a young bride to bear you company? But, of course, you’ve brought Daney with you? Where is my lttle Daney?”’ “Daney?’ repeated the young strang- er, in a respectful tone of inquiry. “Yes, of course she came with you, and you both must have come in the same boat with your letter.” “Boat? letter?’ reiterated the visit- or, with a puzzled look. “Yes, I say, you must have come by the very boat that brought the mail with your letter—since you both ar- rive on the same day, nay, at the same hour! A stupid piece of business, too! Can’t understand it at all! But there, I won’t reproach you, you handsome puppy! Too glad to see you!” said the captain, affectionately clapping the stranger on the back. “But where the devil—(I was going to say)—have you left Daney?”’ “Daney again! Really, sir, there ap- pears to be some wide misunderstand- ing! Pray, have I the honor of speak- ing to Captain Fuljoy?”’ inquired the young man, earnestly. “Why, who the foul fiend —(I was going to say)—should you be talking to And, pray, are you mad, or jesting, or what the mischief do you mean at all?” “Captain William Fuljoy, of Fuljoy’s Island?” repeated the young man, with respectful earnestness. “Thunder and lightning, yes! Do I look as if I had changed to anybody else, since you left me, four days ago?” “There is some mistake, sir. 1 nev- er had the honor of seeing you befor: e, nephew; ff this i: orm you thitd it is hd meantime you : my little Dane ig beginning to imagi. fed with. mes mient a waiter appeared ao ne you please.” *D—® the: cab—(I was going to +theyivecome. The youns .< a 2 gol g see, n; and want ue cab,” the capt: the servant’ retired. they yo; stranger inclined himself miost respect fully toward the old man and said: “Indeed, sir, if you take me for a other than I am, you labor unde’ strange delusion. Pray, may E ask if you did me the honor to look at 1" “Card? card? Oh, there was a fel- low sent up his card to me, but I was busy packing my trunk, to go down to the isle and see you and little Daney (for I had just got your letter, you know), and so I think I did mot take time to look at the card. And, by the way, I wonder what has become ot the fellow? He was on his way up stairs, they told me.” “1 was the sender of the card. It bears m, name,” said the young stranger, lifting the bit of pasteboard from the table, where it lay, and re- spectfully handing it to the captain. The old man took it and read the name— “MR. WELBY DUNBAR.” The captain gazed at the pasteboard apd gaze:] at the stranger. “and do you mean to tell me that is your name?” he asked, in a muddle of surprise, pique, and even fear. The young stranger bowed. ‘The captain without more ado, threw down the card, seized the left wrist of the young man and felt his pulse; mut- tering comments to himself as follow: “Calm, cool, steady; no fever here; no delirium; no sign of madness what- ever. Now let me see to my ownB——™ And with these words the captain dropped the wrist of the young vi and took hold of his own, muttering as before: “Hum—good pulse! no faster than this pr nt excitement might w rant! assuredly no indication of fren- zy here ‘Then, droping his own wri he pointed to a chair, and said, more curt- ly than politely: “Sit you down there, sir.” The young man smiled and obeyed. The captain squared himself, pt his hands upon his kne¢ nd loo! the stranger full in the “And now, Master F you are net quiet and I will send out for a phy in and decide the qu two is mad? It is And I'll be dashe¢ say)--if whicheve: v to Bedlam! going to leave off play Are you going to be sens going to tell where Daney is ve prefer the Lunatic Asylum?” ptain Fuljoy,” said the stranger, y gravely, “that you mistake me for some other person whom I must greatly resemble, is already but too apparent. But that I can prove my: self to be Welby Dunbar is quite cer- tain. I have just arrived from FE in company with our returning mir ter, whom certain political reasons. We traveled the whole three thousand miles togeth- er. We arrived last n He in the house, and can identify m Welby Dunbar, and indorse me, hope, as a gentleman not unworthy of Captain Fuljoy’s confidence While Mr. Dunbar was s} captain was gazing steadily When he had finished speaking, the old man took hold of his bare, flat for he was still in‘his shirt-sleev« pinched it sharply—pinched it 1 and blue, and then sadly shook his head, muttering to ‘himsel “fo know one is dreamin be: able to wake! Bad, h this! significant of apoplexy! He somebody! Here, young man! I kno I am talking in my sleep; but I mean what I say! Shake me smartly; shout loudly in my ea Wake me up quiek- ly, at all hazarc¢ The stranger smiled. “How can I, sir, if Iam part of your dream? Come, Captain Fuljoy! My accidental likeness to some o know, we will admit to be ama but let that suffice; and do not let presence of mind be banished by an e ordinary resemblance between two person: I tell you that I am pre- pared to prove my identity as Welby Dunbar, and also my position as @ gentleman,” repeated the young man. “And neither of us is mad?’ “*Assuredly not.” “Nor dreaming?” “On the contrary, we are both of us remarkably wide awake at this mo- ment.” “Well! All I can say is, that it is just the most wonderful likeness. that I ever did see! the very form, the very face, the very manner and the very voice, and—yes, by the Lord Harry— the very mole on the upper lip! Never heard of such a thing in all the days of my life! And—come to think of it, | would rather have you accredited b; our late minister. Mr. Armfield has known me for many years. We were together a great deal when I was in Paris. And he would not lend himself to any jest at my expense, I feel quite sure. Therefore, if really you are not my nephew, if er are really not play- ing off a stupid joke upom me, and if you really are Mr. Welby Dunbar, and fellow-vyoyager of Mr. Armfield, I will trouble you just to go and ask him to bring you here and introduce you to me himself. And while you are gone I will just brush up my hair, and put on my coat and make myself presenta- ble.” The young man laughed lightly, took up his hat, and left the room to comply with the request. “Set fire to him!—(I was- going to say)—he has made me lose the train, and, consequently, the-boat! And now there will not be another boat for four days!” exclaimed the eaptain, in a tone of extreme annoy: ,as he a proceeded to make his toilet. Be: scarcely completed it when the stranger entered, ushering in the minister, phat Captain -Puljoy advaneed cordially to meet the latter, saying: “You are welcome, sir! Lam as happy to see you as ever I was to set foot on |.tay-native shore after a long yoyaga 4 "Yo Be Continued. — : and not) ond '