"My poor little lady! An Abolitionist? You? In times like these? When Sumter has fallen, too? No wonder your friend has cast you off. Who is she?"

"Miss Laura Tremaine.

you know her, sir?”

She lives at the St. Charles. Do

"Slightly. I met her in the drawing-room not long since. She does not appear unamiable. But why are you an Abolitionist ?"

ter.

"Because I believe in God."

Vance felt that this was the summing-up of the whole matHe looked with new interest on the "little lady." In height she was somewhat shorter than Estelle, · not much over five feet two and a half. Not from her features, but from the maturity of their expression, he judged she might have reached her eighteenth year. Somewhat more of a brunette than Estelle, and with fine abundant hair of a light brown. Eyes

he could not quite see their color; but they were vivid, penetrating, earnest. Features regular, and a profile even more striking in its beauty than her front face. A figure straight and slim, but exquisitely rounded, and every movement revealing some new grace. Where had he seen a face like it?

After a few moments of contemplation, he said : "Do not think me impertinently curious. You have been well educated. You have not had to labor for a living. Are the persons to whom 've been indebted for support no longer your friends?" "They are my worst enemies, and all that has been bestowed on me has been from hateful motives and calculations." "Now I'm going to ask a very delicate question.

you

provided with money ?

much have you ? ”

66

"O yes, sir, amply." "Twenty dollars.”

you so rich as that? What's your name?

Are you

"How

"Indeed! Are "The name

I've been brought up under is Ellen Murray; but I hate it."

66

Why so?"

what was it?"

"Because of a dream." "A dream! And "Shall I relate it?" 66 By all means.” “I dreamed that a beautiful lady led me by the hand into a spacious garden. On one side were fruits, and on the other side flowers, and in the middle a circle of brilliant verbenas from the centre of which rose a tall fountain, fed from a high hill in the neighborhood. And the lady said, "This is your

garden, and your name is not Ellen Murray.' Then she gave me a letter sealed with blue no, gray wax, and said, 'Put this letter on your eyes, and you shall find it there when you wake. Some one will open it, and your name will be seen written there, though you may not understand it at first.' 'But am I not awake?' I asked. 'O no,' said the lady. • This is all a dream. But we can sometimes impress those we love in this way.' 'And who are you?' I asked. "That you will know when you interpret the letter,' she said." "And what resulted from the dream?" waked I put my hand on my eyes. Of course I found no letter. The next night the lady came again, and said, 'The seal cannot be broken by yourself. Your name is not Ellen Murray, remember that.' A third night this dream beset me, and so forcibly that I resolved to get rid of the name as far as I could. And so I made my friends call me Darling."

"The moment I

“Well, Darling, as you “O, but, sir! you must not call me Darling. That would never do!” "What can I call you, then?" "Call me Miss, or Mademoiselle." Miss."

66

Well,

Call me

No, I do not like the sibilation." "Will Ma'am do any better? "Not till I'm more venerable. Perdita." "Perdita what?" "Perdita Brown, love the name of Brown."

yes, I

"Well, Perdita, as you've not quite made up your mind to seek the protection of Miss Tremaine, my advice is that you remain here till to-morrow. Here is a little case filled with books; and on the shelf of the closet is plenty of old music, works of Handel, Mozart, Beethoven, Mendelssohn, Schubert, and some of the Italian masters. Do you play Schubert's Sacred Song?" "I never heard it."

"Do, sir.

"Learn it, then, by all

means. 'Tis in that book. Shall I tell Mrs. Bernard you'll pass the night here?” I'm very grateful for your kindness." “Good by, Perdita! Should anything detain me to-morrow, wait till I come. Keep up your four hours' prac

tice. Madame Bernard is amiable, but a little talkative. I shall tell her to allow you five hours for your studies. Adieu, Perdita!"

He held out his hand, and Clara gave hers, and cast down her eyes. “You've told me a true story?" said he. ❝ Yes!

I will trust you.”

"Indeed, sir, I've told you nothing but the truth.”

Yes. She had told the truth, but unhappily not the whole truth. And yet how she longed to kneel at his feet and confess all! Various motives withheld her. She was not quite sure how he had received her antislavery confessions. He might be a friend of Mr. Ratcliff. There was dismay in the very possibility. And finally a certain pride or prudence restrained her from throwing herself on the protection of a stranger not of her own sex.

And so the golden opportunity was allowed to escape!

Vance lingered for a moment holding her hand, as if to invite her to a further confidence; but she said nothing, and he left the room. Clara opened the music-book at Schubert's piece, and commenced playing. Vance stopped on the stairs and listened, keeping time approvingly. "Good!" he said. Then telling the little landlady not to interrupt Miss Brown's studies, he quitted the house, walking in the direction of the hotel.

Clara practised till she could play from memory the charming composition commended by Vance. Then she threw herself on the bed and fell asleep. She had not remained thus an hour when there was a knock. Dinner! Mr. Bernard had come in; a dapper little man, so remarkably well satisfied with himself, his wife, and his bill of fare, that he repeatedly had to lay down knife and fork and rub his hands in glee.

"Are you related to Mr. Vance?" he asked Clara.

I have

"Not at all. He saw me in the street, weary and distressed. The truth is, I had left my home for a good reason. no parents, you must consider. He asked me in here. From his looks I judged he was a man to trust. I gladly accepted his invitation.”

Truly he's a friend in need, Mademoiselle. I saw him do another kind thing to-day."

"What was it?"

"It happened only an hour ago in Carondelet Street. A ragged fellow was haranguing a crowd. He spoke on the wrong side, in short, in favor of the old flag. Some laughed, some hissed, some applauded. Suddenly a party of men, armed with swords and muskets, pushed through the crowd,

and seized the speaker. They formed a court, Judge Lynch presiding, under a palmetto. They decided that the vagabond should be hung. He had already been badly pricked in the flank with a bayonet. And now a table was brought out, he was placed on it, and a rope put round his neck and tied to a bough. Decidedly they were going to string him up."

"Good heavens!" cried Clara, who, as the story proceeded, had turned pale and thrust away the plate of food from before her. "Did you make no effort to save him?”

“What could I do? They would merely have got another rope, and made me keep him company. Well, the mob were expecting an entertainment. They were about to knock away the table, when Monsieur Vance pushed through the crowd, hauled off the hangman, and, jumping on the table, cut the rope, and lifted the prisoner faint and bleeding to the ground. What a yell from Judge Lynch and the court! Monsieur Vance, his coat and vest all bloody from contact with

وو

“What a shame!" interposed Mrs. Bernard. "A coat and vest he must have put on clean this morning! So nicely ironed and starched!

setter.

"But my story agitates you, Mademoiselle," said the type"You look pale." And the little man, not regarding the inappropriateness of the act, rubbed his hands.

"Go on," replied Clara; and she sipped from a tumbler of cold water.

"There's little more to say, Mademoiselle. Messieurs, the bullies, drew their swords on Monsieur Vance. He showed a revolver, and they fell back. Then he talked to them till they cooled down, gave him three cheers, and went off. I and old Mr. Winslow helped him to find a carriage. We put the wounded man into it. He was driven to the hospital, and his wound attended to. 'Tis serious, I believe.”

And Bernard again rubbed his hands. "And was that the last you saw of Mr. Vance?" asked Clara. "The last. Shall I help you to some pine-apple, Mademoiselle?"

“No, thank you. I've finished my dinner. You will excuse me."

And she returned to the little room assigned to her use.

CHAPTER XXIII.

VAN

WILL YOU WALK INTO MY PARLOR?

"Sing again the song you sung
When we were together young;
When there were but you and I
Underneath the summer sky.
Sing the song, and o'er and o'er,
Though I know that nevermore
Will it seem the song you sung
When we were together young."

George William Curtis.

ANCE passed on through the streets, wondering what could be the mystery which had driven his new acquaintance forth into the wide world without a protector. Should he speak of her to Miss Tremaine? Perhaps. But not unless he could do it without betrayal of confidence.

There was something in Perdita that reminded him of Estelle. Had a pressure of similar circumstances wrought the peculiarity which awakened the association? Yet he missed in Perdita that diaphanous simplicity, that uncalculating candor, which seemed to lead Estelle to unveil her whole nature before him. But Perdita had not wholly failed in frankness. Had she not glorified the old flag in her music? And had she not been outspoken on the one forbidden theme?

As these thoughts flitted through his mind, excluding for the moment those graver interests, involving a people's doom, he heard the shouts of a crowd, and saw a man, pale and bloody, standing on a table under a tree, from a branch of which a rope was dangling. Vance comprehended the meaning of it all in an instant. He darted toward the spot, gliding swift, agile, and flexuous through the compacted crowd. Yes! The victim was the same man to whom he had given the gold-piece, some days before. Vance put a summary stop to Judge Lynch's proceedings, breaking up the court precisely as Bernard had related. The wounded man was conveyed to the