The Secret of Whitmore Chase.

Hawke's Bay Times, Volume XII, Issue 501, 19 August 1867, Page 1

The Secret of Whitmore Chase.

A TALE OF ENGLAND 4 AUSTRALIA. By R. E. Lee, Author of “A Tangled Skein.” WEITTEM lOE THE HAWKE'S BAT WEEKLY TIITES. The right of translation is reserved by the author. y CHAPTER VI. deserted. Philip Whitmore had t a S reed t 0 Grabbe’s propositions, the Htter did not feel easy at the idea of losing sight of his dupe, fearing that reflection might induce him to change his F He therefore persuaded the young 5( man to accompany him to Thavies Inn, where ( he might remain until he embarked. Philip rat first refused to go without seeing his wife * again ; but fear of the impending writ, and a promise from the attorney to bring Ellen to Thavies Inn, at last settled the difficulty. This promise, however, Grabbe had no intention of fulfilling; to do so would have endangered the successful development of his scheme. He resolved to allow Philip no leisure for reflection until he could get him on board the vessel which was to convey him from England. On reaching his chambers, Grabbe led the way info a small room, where an individual was engaged in copying some legal document. To this person Grabbe addressed himself. “ You wanted a holiday last week, Walters, when I could not spare you; I want your room for a few days, you can take three.”

The man bowed without replying, cast an apparently careless yet keen glance at Philip, and left the room.

“This will suit you, I think,” said Grabbe, when his clerk- had gone, “ though small, it is snug, and there is no fear of the sheriff’s officers coming here to annoy you.” Philip little knew that the principal cause of his disquietude, the dishonored bill, was deposited in the iron safe which stood close to his hand. Burden had not told Philip anything concerning the firm who discounted the document; merely saying that “he knew a party who would do a bit of stiff,” he took the bill to Kohler, and gave Philip his share of the money. Thus the latter was utterly unaware who held the bill, and Grabbe had prepared a specious tale in the event of the young man remembering it, though Kohler’s account of the transaction led liim to believe that Philip knew nothing of the matter. “ It’s rather small,” continued Grahhe, noticing that Philip remained silent, “ but then it is safe, which is the principal tiling required in the present case.”

The room was indeed small, being merely a slip from the chambers, originally intended for a book or deeds receptacle, hat converted by Grubbe into a bed-room for his drudge, Walters. A truckle bed, a massive fire-proof safe, an old deal table, a small collection of books, and a couple of chairs, were the entire contents.

“ When does the vessel sail ? ” Philip abruptly asked.

“ That depends upon where yon wish to go,” said Grabbe. “ There’s Sydney, now, a fine healthy place ; everybody well to do, making fortunes like wildfire. A young man like yourself, brought up in the country, may become independent in a short time. Besides, look at the diggings—thousands of pounds made all at once by a lucky hit. Upon my word, if I had not so many years on my shoulders, 1 should feel tempted to start myself.”

It was from no fault of his own that the worthy attornej/had not been provided with a free passage to the antipodes at the expense of Government long before that time.

“ Then again, if you don’t care about Sydney,” he resumed, “ there is Melbourne, a rising place, where I hear they have just discovered gold also. Depend upon u those who arc first there will have a fine haul,”

'■ I will go by the first vessel to either place,” said Philip, moodily. “ It is a matter cf little difference to me where I go, I shall be an outcast anywhere.” “ In that ease,” returned Grahbe, taking np the ‘ Times’ from the table, and consulting it, “ I think we shall find what we want here. America— Cape—Melbourne—Aye, here we are. ‘ For Melbourne direct.—The celebrated clipper Velocipede, on the 38th instant.’ Why, that is to-mor-row ; I mast see at once to your passage,” and he was preparing to leave the room when Philip stopped him. “ listen to me,” said the young man, “ before yon take any further steps, consider well the motives which influence yon. You say you are ■acting on behalf of my wife’s friends —it may be for I know of ao one else who would assist ns.

I- ) r our assertion is true, iam grateful; but mark me, if any sinister motive actuates you in what you are now doing, beware ! Should I discover it, as there is a Heaven above us I will return and crush you as I would a snake!” “ What do you menu ?” inquired Grabbe, turning pale, “Is it at all probable that 1 would lend myself to any such transaction ?” “ I neither know nor care,’’ Philip replied. “ You choose to withhold the name of your employers, and Ido not seek to penetrate your secret. Du Grabbe h'ft the room, and said to his partner. “ Go upstairs and remain with that young man during my absence, and try to prevent him from reliectiug. Remember, not a word about business in any shape ; use every effort to employ his thoughts, give him as much wine as lie wishes for, but ou no account allow him to quit the house until ray return.” Kohler promised to follow these instructions, and Grabbe hurried to the Clarendon Hotel, to report progress to bis employer. The latter was delighted at the rapidity with which the attorney had executed his plans; aud lie smiled at the repetition of the threat Philip had used.

“ I must trouble you for money,” said Grabbe, “ the passage and necessary outfit will exhaust the amount you gave me, and there is his wife to attend to. I will advance it, if you will give me an acknowledgment.” “ No, thank you,” replied Beecham, with a cold smile, shrugging his shoulders, “ I prefer keeping my hands clear of that sort of thing. Here is a cheque for the necessary amount, aud when he has sailed we can have a final settlement.” Grabbe look the cheque, and leaving Beecham, proceeded to Chelsea. He was about to inflict a cruel wound upon Ellen, but he cared little for that. Plan after plau he thought of and rejected, at length he resolved to rely ou his original scheme. As he came to this conclusion, he found himself in front of the house he wanted. At the door stood the woman he had previously seen—this time industriously puffing at a long clay pipe. “ That feller ain’t been home yet,” she sfiid to Grabbe; “I suppose yer couldn’t fiud him. I gave his wife yer message, and she looked pretty astonished, I can tell yer.” “ Will you show me the way ?” Grabbe asked. “ Yer can’t miss," replied the woman, “ straight up, first lauding,” and she turned round to watch his progress. “ That’s right! ” she bawled, as Grabbe reached the first floor, “ the door to the left.”

Grabbe knocked, and a sweet voice requested him to enter. He did so, and closing the door, took a hasty yet comprehensive survey of the room and its contents. The apartment was shabbily furnished ; here and there were scattered relics of Philip’s bachelor days, in the shape of odd spurs, a broken riding whip, and other valueless articles. Ellen was seated by the scanty fire ; she rose, and looked with an air of surprise and enquiry at Grabbe as he entered. The poor girl appeared sadly changed. Trouble had robbed her complexion of its bloom, and it was too evident that tears were no strangers to her eyes. Grabbe paused a moment to collect himself for the attack; and this delay enabled Ellen to summon some degree of composure. “ Mrs Whitmore,” the attorney began, “ I am here on a delicate and painful errand, which I must get through as soon as possible, and I beg of you to hear what I have to say with as much courage as possible.” “My husband! What has happened?” she exclaimed.

“Your husband is quite well, so far as health is concerned,” was the reply, “ but I have a disclosure to make to you—canyon bear to hear it?” “ I can,” said Ellen, controlling herself by a violent effort, “ since he is well, I am prepared to hear you. I know he is in difficulties, he is perhaps arrested ?” Grabbe shook his head. “ I must explain myself,” he said. “ You had friends, Mrs Whitmore, whom you deserted when you married Philip, hut though you left them they did not forget you. They instructed me to watcli over you, to come to your aid at that moment which they too plainly saw must inevitably arrive, sooner or later. They knew that your husband’s family would refuse to recognise you—that he would be abandoned by his friends. All this has taken place, and now, my poor child, when the last blow has fallen on you, I am here to provide you with a home.” “ What do you mean ?” Ellen asked, with rising apprehension. “ What blow has fallen ?”

“ Are you not aware that Philip, by the, advice and assistance of his relatives, left England today, promising not to return ?” The old rascal uttered tins lie as coolly as though it had been a veritable fact.

Ellen gaied wildly at him, passed her hand over her brow, then exclaimed, in a low, heart-piercing tone, “ Alone! deserted!” and fell prostrate on the floor in a swoon. A diabolical smile hovered on Grahbe’a features as he placed a scaled letter on the table; then directing the woman below to attend to her lodger, he left the house.

CHAPTER VII. OUTWARD BOUND. J&4) letter which Grabbe placed on C\lb ie ta^e e f° re leaving Ellen’s room C'gjV contained a fifty-pound note, accom- \ panied by the following lines; —“ The h enclosed amount will be allowed Mrs Whiti more yearly ; payable quarterly, at the offices of Messrs. Grabbe and Kohler, Thanes Inn, Hoiborn.”

After accomplishing this mission, the attorney returned to his chambers, where be found that his worthy coadjutor, Kohler, had plied the unfortunate Philip with wine so successfully that he was sleeping off its effects. A long conversation ensued between the partners, which ended in Kohler engaging to remain at the office all night, though there was little probability of Philip becoming sufficiently sensible to take any action which might thwart Grabbe’s projects. The latter then went to the shipping agent’s, engaged a cabin passage in the Velocipede for “ Mr Phillips,” purchased a moderate outfit, which he sent on board the vessel, and then drove to the Clarendon Hotel.

Beecham manifested more cordiality towards Grabbe at this interview ; the rapidity and success of the attorney’s schemes had raised him in the young man’s estimation. He asked Grabbe to dine with him ; and the attorney, (whose one weak point was a love of good cheer, though he was too avaricious to indulge in it at his own expense) at once accepted the invitation. “ I am not quite clear on one point,” Mr Grabbe,” said Beecham, as they sat over their wine. “ My brother is very irresolute, I know; but the fact of his being in a strange country, dependent on hi* own exertions, may stimulate

him to make an effort to retrieve his position. Then there is the hope of rejoining his wife—nut that I think that counts for muchhe. added, with a cynical sneer. Grabbe eyed Beecham intently for some moments, and then answered; “Of coarse you will be anxious to hear that he is doing well ;'bui I am afraid we have selected the wrong place for that. Australia is all very well for steady men, not afraid of hard work ; but those accustomed to lead an idle life at home And out their mistake when they get then 1 . They are kicked, about from one place to another; no one wants them, no one will have them.’’ “And what becomes of them?” asked Beecham. Grabbe smiled. “That would be a hard question to answer,” he replied. Many become what are termed ‘ loafers,’ in their own and everyone else’s way, living about the town until they can do so no longer, when they go ‘up country,’ which in many cases is tantamount to dying, so far as their re-appearance is concerned.’’ “But there are the gold diggings,” Beecham replied; “ I suppose they occasionally stumble upon good fortune there ?”

Grabbe shook his head. “No doubt you think that nothing is e*sier than for a man to pack up bis traps, shoulder his ‘ swag,’as I believe they term it, go to the diggings, wake his fortune, and return to England to settle down as a wealthy and respected citizen. Such, I confess, was once my own opinion ; but men with whom business has brought me in contact has disabused my wind of the idea, and intelligence from my correspondents in Australis has amply confirmed those statements, _ There is a peculiar nomadic air in Australian life, an irresistible desire for wandering, which leads the lucky ones either to squander their gains, and trust to cliauce for replenishing their exhausted exchequers ; or, still more frequently, to get rid of them as fast as acquired. I could tell you of facts connected with the reckless lavishness of successful diggers which, though I know them to be true, surpass the bounds "of probability.” “ You say you have correspondents in Australia,’’ Beecham remarked, alter a pause, “ do you intend to advise them of my brother’s arrival?’’

Grabbe drew his chair closer to Beecham ; the moment had arrived for which he had been waiting.

“ Look you, Mr Whitmore,” he said, “ you told me yesterday that beating about the hush was useless. I think I have concluded this matter to your satisfaction, and you can judge whether I am to be trusted. I have an ambition, I admit it ; you can gratify it without expense, and at the same time secure an ally who may prove of great advantage to you. It is not necessary for me to say that I discern your object; you tnnsf know that I have fathomed your plan ; and 1 tell vou that it entirely rests with me whether Philip Whitmore dies in Australia, or returns to claim his title, and perhaps his inheritance Beecham started ; the attorney smiled. *• You would not—” “ Pshawinterposed Grabbe, “ I guess your thought; but rest easy, the days of pistols’and poison have gone by. I have a curious idea—but let me ask you a question. Have you read Eugene Sue’s Wandering Jew P” Beecham, somewhat apprehensive as to his visitor's sanity, from such an abrupt diversion, replied in the negative, and Grabbe continued : “ Yon will find there an account of a man who destrouai a whole family by their own agency, when tiie commonplace modes of getting rid of them had failed. l)o not start ; Ido not mean to attempt your brother's life, the idea is absurd ; but the same machinery can be put in motion to accomplish a simpler object. Do as I desire, and I undertake that Philip remains in Australia, powerless to interfere with your claim to the title and estates.” Beecham remained silent for some time after this speech from Grabbe. He was endeavouring to guess the service the attorney required, but finding himself at fault, asked, “ What is your wish ?”

•' I will be candid with you,” was the reply. “ I desire such an introduction as you can give me —the passport of your name—to circles where a man with money, once received, is ever welcome. I am tired of the huckstering citizens and fraudulent tradcsemen with whom 1 have been so long associated. 1 have money, give me an introduction, and I am satisfied.”

“The introduction would be easy enough,” replied Beecham, pointing to a number of visiting cards scattered on the table, “ but you might find your despised citizens in the end more profitable than those whom you might accommodate in & higher circle.”

Grabbe shook bis bead. “ I know that when once a money-lender is known,” he replied, “ good and bad alike flock to him ; my experience will teach me (o separate the wheat from the chaff. I am prepared to take the risk ; and—you will pardon me for saying it—should you accept my offer, a few hundreds will he at your service whenever y ou may require them.” " I can have no other objection to urge if you are satisfied,” replied Beccham ; “ I know two’ or three who are in want of money at present—men who have come to ‘ Philip’s steady brother’ for a loan. The risk of course will he your own. Ij will introduce you to Lord Wiltoua to-morrow ; I suppose you have heard of him ?” “1 should think so,” replied the attorney, “ the only sou of the Earl of Coldiugton, and heir to thirty thousand a year. I could let him have money at half the rate Goldwater charges.” “ And then make a good thing of if, no doubt,” said Beccham, with a sneer. “it is no affair of mine, however. I will keep my word ; if you can come to terms so much the better for vou. I; suppose Philip will sail to-morrow?” | “ He will,” rejoined the attorney, “ with a letter l of introduction to an individual who will obey my I instructions concerning him. 1 will leave you now, as the vessel sails at noon, and I must be in town early to get him safe on board.” Grabbe i«used bis dupe early the next morning, and drove with him to an hotel near the London Dock*, where lie ordered breakfast. Philip’s bead was confused by his potations, and tlm attorney j maintained an incessant flow of conversation.l evading all the other’s questions. It was not until tlfey stood on the deck of the vessel that Philip asked in a tone which admitted of no equivocation, “ Where, is my wife ? ”

Grabbe looked at him steadily, and replied, "Bear what I have to tell you like a man. Year wife is very ill, and her friends did not think it right to submit her to the shock of parting with you. Keep up your spirits, a few years will soon pass over ; nay, who knows, you may be lucky,; and return to England before many months. Here is a letter to a Melbourne firm, who will supply you with the. sum I promised you.” Philip took the letter, shook hands with Grabhe, and walked aft. The vessel was casting oil; a group of swarthy sailors were tugging at the last Tope that confined the vessel to shore. As Grabbc

left the ship he saw Philip standing near the tafrail, apparently in deep thought, while accompanying the loosening of the sails, came the irregular chorus of tlie mariners,” Hurrah I my boys, we’re outward hound !”

CHAPTER VHI. (pi: p-j> ' THE ACCIDENT IN THE PARK. 0/ji.VOST people l-.r.ve heard of that famous joto* r CS! 111. resort, for the eniiestrian lomvmrs of London, Rotten Row, frequented alike kt ‘A’ by the upper ten thousand and the city i ,’df clerk ambitious of “witching the world I with noble horsemanship ” on his sorry '■ llosinaute. A prince of the blood may be seen 1 on bis thoroughbred, followed by a eit whose horsemanship reminds the spectators of the observation made, concerning the celebrated Stonewall Jackson, that he ride like a tailor.

While all able to afford ‘ a mount’ throng the ride, a crowd of pedestrians lean upon the rails, and pass critical comments ou the equestrians, the most pithy not always emanating from the best dressed.

Rotten Row was unusually thronged one afternoon in July. The day had been exceedingly hot, aud many took advantage of the cool breeze which set in after noon to take a ride or stroll in the Park.

Two individuals leaning on the rails opposite the Serpentine demand onr especial attention. A great contrast existed in their personal appearance. One was a short thick-set man, expensively though vulgarly dressed, indicating one who, though in easy circumstances, had—as such men invariably do—overshot the mark in assuming the diameter of a gentleman. This individual was styled Captain Morris, but he would have been puzzled to prove bis right to the military prefix. His companion’s attire was very plain, indeed bordering ou shabbiucss; but tliere was about him that indefinable something which bespoke the man who had seen better davs.

“There goes Captain Wilmington,” said Morris, us a young man rude slowly past; “he is well mounted, Walters.” The latter nodded, and looked with some interest at the person indicated by his companion. Captain Wilmington was apparently about twenty-three years of age. He was tali, and of a powerful frame; most men would have pronounced him handsome, but although nothing derogatory to his character was known, he was nut popular among the gentler sex. Probably their keen perception detected something sinister in the expression of his cold grey eye. lie wore a heavy black moustache, and had the lounging air nifected by the heavy dragoon. “ Quartermaine refused two hundred last week for that hay mare the Captain is riding,” Morris continued. “ The old General must he coming down with the ready freely.” “ Pooh ! A few thousands will make no difference to General Robartes,” replied Walters. “ He shook the Indian pagoda-tree to some purpose ; but the Captain pays too many visits to St. James’s-street to please the old man, if he heard of them.”

“ Docs lie gamble ?” inquired Morris. “ I look in at most of the houses during the evening, but 1 can’t recollect seeing liim.”

“ Perhaps not,” was the answer ; “Wilmington never frequents the public tables, he is one of a set who meet in the rooms over the shop of Yeri, the perfumer.” Veri’s I” exclaimed Morris, “I have heard that they play high there, hut I could never manage to get an introduction.” “ Probably not,” replied Walters, drily, “ they are rather exclusive in their company, Lord Wiltoun, Viscount Amesbury, Colonel Lidding, and others of that set. I know that old Grabbe has got hold of Wilmington, for I was in the office when Lord Wiltoun and the Captain called, and I am certain they got an advance from the old man.”

“ Grabbe must be making a nice thing out of him,” observed Morris; nothing less ttian cent, per cent. I suppose ?” “ 1 don’t know,” returned Walters, apparently rather speaking to himself than in auswer to his companion, “ there is something I cannot fathom in the wind between Wilmington and Grabbe.” “ Surely a knowing fellow like you have not been so long with the old man without finding a way of satisfying your curiosity ?”

“ You don’t know Grabbe,” replied Walters. “ He keeps Kohler as sentry when any particular business is being transacted. He is a deep old file, is Grabbe, a very shrewd man, no doubt; but let John Walters once, get a firm grip of him., and the wily old scoundrel will bo ratlitr astonished at the result

Walters opened and shut his hand mechanically as he said this. It was not a pleasant hand to look at—long, lean, and sinewy; the working fingers, terminating in long nails, bearing an uncomfortable resemblance to the talons of a vulture. People credulous in such matters would have kept its owner at a respectful distance. Morris appeared surprised at this outburst. “ What’s up now ?* be inquired. “ Have you been quarrelling with Grabbe, and has he dispensed with your valuable services ?” “Pshaw!” exclaimed Walters, who seemed annoyed at his own imliscrection, “ A trifling dispute, that’s all. Look there,” he exclaimed, pointing down the ride, “that fellow will spill somebody.”

A confused sound of screaming and shouting i was heard at this moment, and a horse came madly careering up the Row at. the top of his speed ; his terrified rider flinging to the animal’s neck in a paroxysm of fear, and unconsciously] digging his heels into the horse’s sides. “ What a fool!” exclaimed Morris. “ See, he is actually ramming the spurs into the horse 1 He’s cut much used to riding, I’ll swear ; the poor wretch seems frightened out of his wits. What a clear road the riders leave him !” Suddenly the horse swerved and changed his course, still continuing with nn,-dialed sneeil.

“By Heaven i there is General Ronartcs right in his way !" exclaimed M alters, “ The old man is as deaf as a post. He will be. killed I ’ The horse, maddened by the pain of the spurs, which his terrified rider unwittingly buried in his sides, was already close behind the old General; j who, mounted on a steady cob, was slowly pacing the Row. A ''ouisKin appeared inevitable, and from the General’s advanced age pro’wbly a fatal one; when suddenly a young man sprang over ■the rails, and standing in front of the runaway ihorse, extended his arms. Brightened at tne sudden apparition, the animal reared, throwing his rider in doing so, and then foil heavily on Unyouth who had thus adventurously cheeked his career. A crowd immediately collected ; and the rider, more frightened than hurt, limped away, leaving his horse in the hands of a policeman, to whom he gave his address, mentally registering a

solemn vow never to tempt the fates on horseback again. The young man who had stopped the horse was not so fortunate. General llubaftes, who had been overtaken by a friend and apprised of what had occurred, rode up, and producing his car ;(rumpet, listened to the opinion given hy n medical gentleman who happened to be present. 1 v*o iihs uiusea, no \ou say ? ' t.*iu Genera*

The surgeon replied in the affirmative, advising 'the youth's instant removal to St. George's Hospital, vvhieli was close at hand. I “J'ih 1 What! St. Ueorgc’s Hospital!" Nonsense! 1

repued the old my life. You will oblige me by having him safely conveyed to my house in Park Lane, which |is quite as near, and I shall consider it a great favour if you will do the best you eau for him until Ferguson can he sent for. Your name is—" “ Martin,” replied the doctor, handing his card to General Ilohartes, and delighted to have obtained such a chance. Poor fellow 1 lie was a specimen of numbers of his overcrowded profession wdio, from no fault of their own, have to keep up a respectable appearance on an income which, to use the expression of Mr Boh Sawyer, might he put in a wine-glass and covered with a gooseberry leaf.

A stretcher was improvised with the aid of a dour from the neighbouring boat-house, ami the insensible patient was conveyed to Park Lane ; General Ilohartes riding on before to make arrangements for his reception and despatch a messenger for Ur. Ferguson, (be celebrated physician, who in a short time arrived, and verified Martin’s opinion, declaring the treatment already adopted by that gentleman perfectly satisfactory. “ Well, I will leave the poor fellow in your hands said the General, “ but I must take the liberty of searching his pockets for an address. His frieuds must be at once apprised of the occurrence.”

Tlio only articles contained in the pockets were a handkerchief, a purse, and several letters directed to Mr Herbert Warren, Porchester Cottage, Rayswater. “ No doubt that, is his name and address,” said the General; “ 1 will ride over immediately, and break the news to his relatives.” A short ride brought him to Porchester Cottage. Dismounting and throwing the reins to his groom„ he rang the hell, which was answered by a slipshod girl. “ Hoes Mr Warren reside here ?” he asked. “He do, sir,” was the reply, “ hut he's takin’ his arteruoon walk now', as he alius does, but I expects him iu every minute.” “ In that ease perhaps I can see Mrs Warren ?” saiil the General, hazarding a guess. “ Lor’ bless you sir,” returned »he girl, *• Missus is an invilid, and never sees anybody.” “ Pmt I must sec her on important business,’ replied General Rohartes. “ "Why didn’t you say it was business at first ?” the girl demanded, indignantly. P.’s Miss Lucy von wants."

“R? kind enough to give her this card, then,” he replied, “ and say I wish to speak with her for a few moments.”

The girl, after shewing him into a small room, left to deliver the message, and the General surveyed the apartment with some interest. It was neatly but very plainly furnished, with the exception of a fine grand piano, which occupied nearly the whole of one side of the room, oa which stood an open piece of musie, the subject being the celebrated air from Robert ie Diable, Roberttol que j’uime ; while near the window was an easel, on which was a small painting, representing a scene from one of llolfmanu’s weird German teles, the Devil’s Elixir. The General smiled at this diabolical combination, and drew nearer to the picture to examine it, when a young lady entered the room.

“ General llobartes, I believe?” she snid. The General bowed. “ Miss "Warren, I presume p” lie said. “ 1 have culled here, in consequence of Mr Warren—” “ My brother, what of him ?” she hastily demanded.

“ Do not bo alarmed,” returned the Gsneral ; “ he is at my house, and as I particularly wish him te remain there to-uight, I came over to inform you.” Miss Warren regarded him intently for some time, and the General, unaccustomed to equivocation, became uneasy under her searching gaze. “ You are concealing something from me,” she exclaimed ; “ tell me what has occurred, I entreat you. What has happened to my brother?” “My dear child,” replied General llobartes, taking her hand, “ I am sure you will believe the word of one who has honorably served his country for forty years ; and I assure you that your brother, though he lias met with an accident, is in no danger. lie nobly risked his life to save mine, and unfortunately two of his ribs were broken, lie requires nothing but time and careful nursiug to restore him to perfect health. No doubt you are anxious to see him ; I will return and send a carriage for von.”

Miss Warren had by this time partially recovered from her agitation. “ I cannot leave my mother alone,” she exclaimed, “ and yet Herbert will wish to see me. I know not what to do ! ” “ I think I can suggest a good plan,” said tho General, after some consideration. “ Your brother will no doubt be anxious to see you, and I will scud Imy daughter to stay here until your return. Yon jeau tell your mamma that you have requested a | t’rioiiti to remain with her during your absence. It is nut necessary to alarm her by recounting the reason—say that yon are about to visit a friend." “ I accept your kind offer,” said Miss Warren, after a short deliberation. “Then I will at once return and send the carriage for you,” said the General; “ and lam certain tint my daughter will be delighted to be of tiny' service to the sister of one who has suffered so much for me.” General llobartes kept his word, and Miss Warren was soon at her brother's bedside. (Tu h* conliuucrL)