Chapter XIX

"Ay, little do those features wear
The shade of sin,--the soil of care;
The hair is parted o'er a brow
Open and white as mountain-snow,
And clusters there in many a ring,
With sun and summer glistening.
Yet something on that brow has wrought
A moment's cast of angry thought."

In an arbor of Major Howard's elegant garden, the moonlight shimmering its rich, clustering vines with silver, and the night-breezes murmuring in low, musical voices among the dark green leaves, sat a man of commanding aspect and handsome features. Light auburn hair, closely trimmed, lay in short, thick masses of wavy curls around his high, pale brow. His mien and manner indicated the well-bred gentleman. A small, dark figure crouched beside him. It was Hannah Doliver.

"We meet again at last," said the man, after a considerable silence. His voice was low and deep, and the woman trembled as she answered,

"I marvel how you have discovered me."

"Few things escape my knowledge which it subserves my interest to know," returned he. "What in the name of all the fiends possessed you to enter the service of Tom Howard?"

"A lone, forsaken female finds shelter where she can," whined the woman.

"O, don't babble in that hypocritical tone!" said the man. "I did not leave you so destitute; and I took the child off your hands that no incumbrance might fetter your footsteps."

"Fiend!" exclaimed Hannah. "You shall not talk to me thus. What have you done with my boy?"

"I have done well by him," answered the man. "He has been reared as a gentleman. No stain has ever been suspected on his birth."

"Where is he?" asked she, in a voice trembling with emotion.

"He is near you. I left him but an hour ago, well and happy."

"Near me!" said the woman almost wildly. "It cannot be--you lie to me, Herbert!"

"By the heavens above, I utter the solemn truth!" returned the man.

"What name does he bear?"

The man bowed his tall form and whispered in her ear. She sprang to her feet, paced hurriedly to and fro down the little alcove, and at length threw herself on her knees and exclaimed,

"O, let me see him! Can you be so cruel as to withhold the child from his mother's right?"

"It rests with you to decide whether you see him or no," said the man, wholly unmoved by her distress and emotion. Swear to keep my presence here a secret, and do my bidding in all things, and you may see your boy when you choose."

"I swear!" answered the woman, frantically.

"Tell me first why you are here serving Tom Howard's wife?"

"I am not serving his wife."

"Who then?"

"His sister."

"His sister!" exclaimed the man, now evincing strong emotion. "And does she live?"

"She lives; and lives to palm herself off on the world as the wife of her own brother."

"What iniquity!" said the man. The woman burst into a low laugh.

"Why do you laugh?" demanded he, fiercely.

"Because iniquity comes so prettily from your lips," replied she in a sarcastic tone.

"Take care, woman!" said he. "Remember you are in my power."

The little dark figure trembled and was silent.

"I wonder she would receive you again into her service," remarked the man at length in an absorbed tone.

"Fear is a strong motive. I threatened to reveal her deception to the public."

"Ay, you have some skill and tact, I find!" said he, rising. "Now remember, when I wish to see your mistress, you are to gain me an entrance to her."

"What do you want to see her for?" asked the woman. "I believe a sight of you would throw her into fits."

"It is none of your business why I wish to see her," said he. "But mind, you do not look on your boy unless you implicitly obey all my commands." Here he stooped and whispered again in her ear.

"I hate the girl!" she said, after he had ceased speaking and stood gazing down on her, twirling his velvet cap carelessly in his hand.

"But you would like to see your boy so well married," remarked he.

"'Twould be a sweet revenge," she said in a chuckling tone. He turned to depart.

"Herbert!" she called, softly.

"What do you wish?" said he, pausing.

The woman hesitated, and at length said, "The girl--her child I mean; is she----?"

Again the man whispered in her ear. "None can say," he added aloud, "that I have not been a kind parent to my children."

"I'm glad there's some virtue in you," said the woman, turning toward the quiet mansion that stood in almost palace-like magnificence in the midst of the beautiful grounds that surrounded it on all sides. The man lingered behind, and finally left the garden by a path lying in an opposite direction from the one by which he had entered. He bent his steps rapidly in the direction of the river. Either the warmth of the night or his own emotions oppressed him; for, as he gained its banks, he slackened his pace, drew off his cap, and loosened his collar. With arms folded across his chest, he moved slowly along, like one intensely absorbed in some dark and intricate train of thought. Sometimes he muttered to himself, and made strange gestures, or tossed his head with a confident air, as though he saw onward to the success of some plan he concerted. So occupied was he in his own thoughts, that he never saw the tall, gaunt figure of a man, crouching in the shadow of a small linden tree, that stood on the bank of the river, nearly opposite Dilly Danforth's wretched abode, although he passed in so close contact as to brush against the little bundle of sticks the unknown held in his hand, while his deep, sunken eyes glared on the passer till they seemed nearly starting from their sockets.

"'Tis he!" murmured the gazer, when the abstracted one was beyond the sound of his voice. "I must see where he goes;" and, stealing noiselessly to the door of Dilly's abode, he placed the bundle of sticks on her sill, and slowly followed the receding figure.