"Nabbed, by gripes!" cried Quirk, suddenly turning round.

"But just look here, old feller, I'd like to know [hic] what for you arrest a couple--of gen'l'men for--as is decently [hic] to go home to bed."

"Breaking into a store is a new way of going to bed. You're my prisoners; so march along with you."

"Do you take us for thieves," said Arthur, startled into soberness; "we belong there, and were trying to use our pass-key."

"Let's see your pass-key, then."

"It's lost! I can find it neither in my own nor my companion's pockets."

"Good story, but won't go down, so trot along."

And the watchman, stepping between them, seized an arm of each, and hurried them off to the guard-house.

"Phew! that's more than I bargained for," said Clinton, stepping out of the archway, and looking after the retreating figures. "However, that's Grey that's got 'em, and I can make it straight by morning." So saying, he pressed his hand hard upon the ponderous key he held, and muttering, "Ah, a good time's coming," turned his steps toward the First Municipality.

CHAPTER VI.

Since noonday, Guly had sat in the darkened store alone. He could not go out in search of his brother, being ignorant of the streets; and besides, where in that great city could he have looked with any hope of finding him? When he returned from church, and found Arthur absent, he was not only surprised, but deeply troubled. Knowing what a stranger he was in that vast metropolis, the thought crossed his mind that in the proud and angry mood that was upon him, he might have wandered off, and lost himself. But an instant's reflection told him that any one would be able to give the direction of Mr. Delancey's store, and that Arthur, in such a case, would not be slow to make inquiry.

He could but wait patiently, as there was no one near, either to accompany him in a search, or to give him advice. He seated himself to write to his mother, deeming that his time could not be more dutifully passed.

The letter was finished and sealed, and still no news of Arthur. Guly had seized his hat with the intent of going forth at all hazards, when the door of his room slowly opened, and Jeff's shining face was thrust in.

"Please, young massar, may I come in?"

"Certainly. Close the door."

The negro entered with a shuffling gait, holding a tattered straw hat in his hands, and with a bow and sheepish look stopped directly in front of Guly.

"Anything I can do for you, Jeff?"

"Well, I hopes you'll 'scuse my 'trusion, young massar, but I thought as dis was Sunday, mebbe you'd be reading dat big book yourself, and would let me hear you."

"To be sure, Jeff, to be sure. Whenever that big book is read you will always be a welcome listener, and whenever I have time I shall always be ready to read it to you."

"Oh, young massar, you is so good to de poor nigger--sometimes when I look at you, I can't help tinking you'se just some angel as has lost his wings, and a-waiting on dis airth till they grow agin."

"Hush, Jeff."

"Yes, massar; if you'se ready to read, I'se ready to listen."

Guly smiled at this misconstruction of his words, but opening the Bible he read aloud the fourteenth chapter of John; while Jeff sat with his elbows on his knees, and his chin in his palms, his large eyes fixed attentively on the reader.

When the chapter was finished, Guly took the different paragraphs, and in a simple but concise manner endeavored to explain all which was difficult for his listener to understand.

"Thar!" said Jeff, flinging his old hat emphatically upon the floor, as Guly ceased, "If that ain't as good as a minister, dis child guv it up, dat's all! Oh, young massar, if you'd just call a meetin' ob de clerks in dis store, and read and 'spound to 'em sometime in dis way, dar'd be a better set in old massar's bizness, to say the least."

"Your master's clerks all seem to be well-disposed young men, I'm sure, Jeff--I never see them commit a wrong."

"You'se too good yousef to see evil, sah; but mebbe de clerks _is_ good when de Boss's sharp eye is on 'em."

"Oh!" exclaimed Guly, starting to his feet, and rapidly pacing the floor, "What a place of sin for a young inexperienced boy to be in, and under the influence of evil companions. Oh! my brother! my brother!"

"He'll be home by night-time, Massar Gulian, in my 'pinion. I'se jus sorry I told you, sah, since you take on so, but it just slipped out o'

me like, an' I couldn't help it."

Guly drew a chair near one of the windows, and though he could see neither sky above or brightness below, he gazed out upon the brick walls before him, and his thoughts flew backward to the past. From that hour of reflection Guly rose up wiser and older. He felt how much depended on himself, and decided that henceforth his watchful eye should ever be upon the brother, who, though so much older than himself, required so much of tender counsel and care.

The sun was down when he again approached the table where Jeff still sat, turning over the leaves of the "Big Book."

"Massar Gulian, you look in your eyes as though you was gwine to pray.

May I hear you 'fore I go?"

Guly bowed, and knelt beside his dusky friend; and as he prayed, the great white tears rolled over Jeff's cheeks, and fell down on the box by which he was kneeling.

The prayer was ended and Jeff rose to go.

"Good night, Jeff," said Guly, holding out his hand.

"Good night, young Massar; God forever bress your heart."

Left alone, Guly sat down to patiently await the termination of what he could not possibly avert; but the loneliness was so oppressive, the silence and darkness lay like such a weight upon his troubled heart, that he determined to descend to Wilkins' room, and if he were there to remain with him.

Having no light in his chamber, he opened the door, and slowly groped his way down the winding stairs. When he had nearly reached the foot he fancied he heard voices, and, surprised at such a sound coming from the direction of the head-clerk's room, he paused to listen; but the step on which he stood creaked loudly, and the voices ceased.

Going cautiously on in the darkness, he reached the big desk, and further back saw a stream of light glimmering through the crevice of Wilkins' door. He evidently was at home, but unless his ears had very much deceived him, Guly felt certain he was not alone.

Not wishing to play the spy, the boy went forward, and was about to knock, when through the crevice of the door his eye fell upon a scene which again arrested his attention, and held him speechless.

Wilkins was seated at a low table, writing, apparently answering a letter, which lay open before him, written in a peculiarly beautiful and delicate female hand. The light of the lamp fell full upon his face, which was very pale; and his teeth were pressed hard into his under lip.

Behind him, with one hand clasped upon the back of his chair, stood a young girl; and though her features were of exquisite proportions and beautiful moulding, she displayed in the slight tinge of duskiness upon her skin, and the peculiar blackness of her large eyes, unmistakable proofs, to an experienced judge, of the quadroon blood in her veins.

Her hair was long, and of midnight blackness; and fell in thick, close curls over the graceful scarf which covered her shoulders. Her forehead was high and fine, her eyebrows arched and delicately traced--her nose free from all trace of her negro origin, and her lashes long and curving upon her round cheek. Her mouth was small, and the lips parted over teeth of the most perfect regularity; but in this feature, more than in any other, as she stood watching Wilkins, as he wrote, there was an expression of proud bitterness, which came and went over those exquisite features, like gleams of lightning.

As Wilkins finished writing, he carefully folded and sealed his letter, and handed it to the girl, without adding any superscription.

"There, Minny, give her that; but, remember how much depends upon your secresy. There's a day coming when you shall meet your full reward for all you are doing for us now."

"Yes, Mr. Bernard," she replied, addressing him by his first name, and speaking earnestly, "I think of that myself sometimes, and tremble."

"And tremble! What do you mean?"