THE ATLANTIC MONTHLY. A Magazine of Literature, Science, Art, and Politics. VOL. XX. DECEMBER, 1867.- NO. CXXII. THE GUARDIAN ANGEL. CHAPTER XXXIV. MURRAY BRADSHAW PLAYS HIS LAST CARD. Mistress Kitty delivered her message, not without a gleam of malicious intelligence in her look that stung Mr. Bradshaw sharply. He had noticed a How can I see that man this hat in the entry, and a little stick by evening, Mr. Lindsay?" "May I not be Clement, dearest? I would not see him at all, Myrtle. I don't believe you will find much pleasure in listening to his fine speeches." "I cannot endure it. Kitty, tell him I am engaged, and cannot see him this evening. No, no! don't say engaged, say very much occupied." Kitty departed, communing with herself in this wise: -“Ockipied, is it? An' that's what ye cahl it when ye're kapin' company with one young gintleman an' don't want another young gintleman to come in an' help the two of ye? Ye won't get y'r pigs to market to-day, Mr. Bridshaw, morrow, nayther, Mr. Bridshaw. It's - no, nor toMrs. Lindsay that Miss Myrtle is goin' to be, an' a big cake there'll be at the weddin', frosted all over, ye be plased with a slice o' that, Mr. - won't Bridshaw?" - With these reflections in her mind, it which he remembered well as one he had seen carried by Clement Lindhis emotions, and he greeted the two say. But he was used to concealing older ladies, who presently came into the library, so pleasantly, that no one and carefully would have suspected who had not studied his face long the bitterness of heart that lay hidden far down beneath his deceptive smile. He told Miss Silence, with much apney. He gave her an account of the parent interest, the story of his jourprogress of the case in which the escipal portion was interested. He did tate of which she inherited the prinnot tell her that a final decision which claim might be expected at any mowould settle the right to the great ment, and he did not tell her that there was very little doubt that it would be in favor of the heirs of Malachi Withers. He was very sorry he could not see Miss Hazard that Entered according to Act of Congress, in the year 1867, by TICKNOR AND FIELDS, in the Clerk's Office of the District Court of the District of Massachusetts. VOL. XX.- NO. 122. 41 evening, hoped he should be more fortunate to-morrow forenoon, when he intended to call again, - had a message for her from one of her former school friends, which he was anxious to give her. He exchanged certain looks and hints with Miss Cynthia, which led her to withdraw and bring down the papers he had intrusted to her. At the close of his visit, she followed him into the entry with a lamp, as was her common custom. "What's the meaning of all this, Cynthia? Is that fellow making love to Myrtle?" "I'm afraid so, Mr. Bradshaw. He's been here several times, and they seem to be getting intimate. I could n't do anything to stop it." "I shall come again to-morrow forenoon. Another day and it will be all up. The decision of the court will be known. It won't be my fault if one visit is not enough. You don't suppose Myrtle is in love with this fellow?" "She acts as if she might be. You know he's broke with Susan Posey, and there's nothing to hinder. If you ask my opinion, I think it's your last chance she is n't a girl to half do things, and if she has taken to this man it will be hard to make her change her mind. But she's young, and she has had a liking for you, and if you manage it well there's no telling." Two notes passed between Myrtle Hazard and Master Byles Gridley that evening. Mistress Kitty Fagan, who had kept her ears pretty wide open, carried them. Murray Bradshaw went home in a very desperate state of feeling. He had laid his plans, as he thought, with perfect skill, and the certainty of their securing their end. These papers were to have been taken from the envelope, and found in the garret just at the right moment, either by Cynthia herself or one of the other members of the family, who was to be led on, as it were accidentally, to the discovery. The right moment must be close at hand. He was to offer his hand and heart, of course - to Myrtle, and it was to be accepted. As soon as the decision of the land case was made known, or not long afterwards, there was to be a search in the garret for papers, and these were to be discovered in a certain dusty recess, where, of course, they would have been placed by Miss Cynthia. And now the one condition which gave any value to these arrangements seemed like to fail. This obscure youth this poor fool, who had been on the point of marrying a simpleton to whom he had made a boyish promise — was coming between him and the object of his long pursuit, — the woman who had every attraction to draw him to herself. It had been a matter of pride with Murray Bradshaw that he never lost his temper so as to interfere with the precise course of action which his cool judgment approved; but now he was almost beside himself with passion. His labors, as he believed, had secured the favorable issue of the great case so long pending. He had followed Myrtle through her whole career, if not as her avowed lover, at least as one whose friendship promised to flower in love in due season. The moment had come when the scene and the characters in this village drama were to undergo a change as sudden and as brilliant as in those fairy spectacles where the dark background changes to a golden palace and the sober dresses are replaced by robes of regal splendor. The change was fast approaching; but he, the enchanter, as he had thought himself, found his wand broken, and his power given to another. He could not sleep during that night. He paced his room, a prey to jealousy and envy and rage, which his calm temperament had kept him from feel ing in their intensity up to this miserable hour. He thought of all that a maddened nature can imagine to deaden its own intolerable anguish. Of revenge. If Myrtle rejected his suit, should he take her life on the spot, that she might never be another's, that neither man nor woman should ever triumph over him,—the proud, ambitious man, defeated, humbled, scorned? No! that was a meanness of egotism which only the most vulgar souls could be capable of. Should he challenge her lover? It was not the way of the people and time, and ended in absurd complications, if body was foolish enough to try it. Shoot him? The idea floated through his mind, for he thought of everything; but he was a lawyer, and not a fool, and had no idea of figuring in court as a criminal. Besides, he was not a murderer, cunning was his natural weapon, not violence. He had a certain admiration of desperate crime in others, as showing nerve and force, but he did not feel it to be his own style of doing business. any During the night he made every arrangement for leaving the village the next day, in case he failed to make any impression on Myrtle Hazard and found that his chance was gone. wrote a letter to his partner, telling He him that he had left to join one of the regiments forming in the city. He adjusted all his business matters so that his partner should find as little trouble as possible. A little before dawn he threw himself on the bed, but he could not sleep; and he rose at sunrise, and finished his preparations for his departure to the city. The morning dragged along slowly. He would not go to the office, not wishing to meet his partner again. After breakfast he dressed himself with great care, for he meant to show himself in the best possible aspect. Just before he left the house to go to The Poplars, he took the sealed package from his trunk, broke open the envelope, took from it a single paper, - it had some spots on it which distinguished it from 643 all the rest,- put it separately in his The calm smile he wore on his fea- He was shown into the parlor at The Poplars; and Kitty told Myrtle that he had called and inquired for her, and was waiting down stairs. "Tell him I will be down presently," she said. "And, Kitty, now mind just what I tell you. Leave your kitchanything fall in the parlor. en door open, so that you can hear hear a book fall, it will be a heavy If you straight up here to my little chamone, and will make some noise, - run ber, and hang this red scarf out of the window. The left-hand side - sash, mind, so that anybody can see it from the road. him into the parlor, no matter who is If Mr. Gridley calls, show there." Kitty Fagan looked amazingly inteldo exactly as she was told. Myrtle ligent, and promised that she would followed her down stairs almost immediately, and went into the parlor, where Mr. Bradshaw was waiting. Never in his calmest moments had his features than that with which he he worn a more insinuating smile on gracious, so full of trust, such a comnow greeted Myrtle. So gentle, so genial character did it seem, that to pletely natural expression of a kind, peared impossible that such an effect any but an expert it would have apcould be produced by the skilful balancing of half a dozen pairs of little muscles that manage the lips and the his voice were subdued into accord corners of the mouth. The tones of with the look of his features; his whole manner was fascinating, as far as any conscious effort could make it so. It was just one of those artificially pleasing effects that so often pass with such as have little experience of life for the genuine expression of character and feeling. But Myrtle had learned the look that shapes itself on the features of one who loves with a love that seeketh not its own, and she knew the difference between acting and reality. She met his insinuating approach with a courtesy so carefully ordered that it was of itself a sentence without appeal. Artful persons often interpret sincere ones by their own standard. Murray Bradshaw thought little of this somewhat formal address, - a few minutes would break this thin film to pieces. He was not only a suitor with a prize to gain, he was a colloquial artist about to employ all the resources of his specialty. He introduced the conversation in the most natural and easy way, by giving her the message from a former schoolmate to which he had referred, coloring it so delicately, as he deliv ered it, that it became an innocentlooking flattery. Myrtle found herself in a rose-colored atmosphere, not from Murray Bradshaw's admiration, as it seemed, but only reflected by his mind from another source. That was one of his arts, — always, if possible, to associate himself incidentally, as it appeared, and unavoidably, with an agreeable impression. So Myrtle was betrayed into smiling and being pleased before he had said a word about himself or his affairs. Then he told her of the adventures and labors of his late expedition; of certain evidence which at the very last moment he had unearthed, and which was very probably the turningpoint in the case. He could not help feeling that she must eventually reap some benefit from the good fortune with which his efforts had been attended. The thought that it might yet be so had been a great source of encouragement to him, — it would always be a great happiness to him to remember that he had done anything to make her happy. Myrtle was very glad that he had been so far successful, she did not know that it made much difference to her, but she was obliged to him for the desire of serving her that he had expressed. "My services are always yours, Miss Hazard. There is no sacrifice I would not willingly make for your benefit. I have never had but one feeling toward you. You cannot be ignorant of what that feeling is." "I know, Mr. Bradshaw, it has been one of kindness. I have to thank you for many friendly attentions, for which I hope I have never been ungrateful.” 66 Kindness is not all that I feel towards you, Miss Hazard. If that were all, my lips would not tremble as they do now in telling you my feelings. I love you." He sprang the great confession on Myrtle a little sooner than he had meant. It was so hard to go on making phrases! Myrtle changed color a little, for she was startled. The seemingly involuntary movement she made brought her arm against a large dictionary, which lay very near the edge of the table on which it was resting. The book fell with a loud noise to the floor. There it lay. The young man awaited her answer; he did not think of polite forms at such a moment. "It cannot be, Mr. Bradshaw, — it must not be. I have known you long, and I am not ignorant of all your brilliant qualities, but you must not speak to me of love. Your regard, — your friendly interest, tell me that I shall always have these, but do not distress me with offering more than these." Myrtle blushed so deeply that there was no need of his finishing his question. "Do you mean, Myrtle Hazard, that you have cast me aside for another? for this stranger-this artist - who was with you yesterday when I came, bringing with me the story of all I had done for you, yes, for you, — and was ignominiously refused the privilege of seeing you?" Rage and jealousy had got the better of him this time. He rose as he spoke, and looked upon her with such passion kindling in his eyes that he seemed ready for any desperate act. "I have thanked you for any services you may have rendered me, Mr. Bradshaw," Myrtle answered, very calmly, "and I hope you will add one more to them by sparing me this rude questioning. I wished to treat you as a friend; I hope you will not render that impossible." -- He had recovered himself for one more last effort. "I was impatient: overlook it, I beg you. I was think ing of all the happiness I have labored to secure for you, and of the ruin to us both it would be if you scornfully rejected the love I offer you, — if you refuse to leave me any hope for the future, - if you insist on throwing yourself away on this man, so lately pledged to another. I hold the key of all your earthly fortunes in my hand. My love for you inspired me in all that I have done, and, now that I come to lay the result of my labors at your feet, you turn from me, and offer my reward to a stranger. I do not ask you to say this day that you will be mine, I would not force your inclinations, but I do ask you that you will hold yourself free of all others, and listen to me as one who may yet be more than a friend. Say so much as this, Myrtle, and you shall have such a future as you never dreamed of. Fortune, position, all that this world can give, shall be yours!" "Never! never! If you could offer me the whole world, or take away from me all that the world can give, it would make no difference to me. I cannot tell what power you hold over me, whether of life and death, or of wealth and poverty; but after talking to me of love, I should not have thought you would have wronged me by suggesting any meaner motive. It is only because we have been on friendly terms so long that I have listened to you as I have done. You have said more than enough, and I beg you will allow me to put an end to this interview." She rose to leave the room. But Murray Bradshaw had gone too far to control himself, he listened only to the rage which blinded him. "Not yet!" he said. "Stay one moment, and you shall know what your pride and self-will have cost you!" Myrtle stood, arrested, whether by fear, or curiosity, or the passive subjection of her muscles to his imperious will, it would be hard to say. Murray Bradshaw took out the spotted paper from his breast pocket, and held it up before her. "Look here!" he exclaimed. "This would have made you rich, it would have crowned you a queen in society,- it would have given you all, and more than all, that you ever dreamed of luxury, of splendor, of enjoyment; and I, who won it for you, would have taught you how to make life yield every bliss it had in store to your wishes. You reject my offer unconditionally?" Myrtle expressed her negative only by a slight contemptuous movement. Murray Bradshaw walked deliberately to the fireplace, and laid the spotted paper upon the burning coals. It writhed and curled, blackened, flamed, and in a moment was a cinder dropping into ashes. He folded his arms, and stood looking at the wreck of Myrtle's future, the work of his cruel hand. Strangely enough, Myrtle herself was fascinated, as it were, by the apparent solemnity of this mysterious sacrifice. She had kept her eyes steadily on him all the time, and was still gazing at the altar on which her happiness had been in some way offered up, when the door was opened by Kitty Fagan, and Mas |