Mr. Stevens was presented to Miss Bates, and Miss Ellstowe turned to present him to Clarence. "Mr. Garie--Mr. Stevens," said she. Clarence bowed.

"Pardon me, I did not catch the name," said the former, politely.

"Mr. Clarence Garie," she repeated, more distinctly.

George Stevens bowed, and then sitting down opposite Clarence, eyed him for a few moments intently. "I think we have met before," said he at last, in a cold, contemptuous tone, not unmingled with surprise, "have we not?"

Clarence endeavoured to answer, but could not; he was, for a moment, incapable of speech; a slight gurgling noise was heard in his throat, as he bowed affirmatively.

"We were neighbours at one time, I think," added George Stevens.

"We were," faintly e.j.a.c.u.l.a.t.ed Clarence.

"It is a great surprise to me to meet _you_ here," pursued George Stevens.

"The surprise is mutual, I a.s.sure you, sir," rejoined Clarence, coldly, and with slightly agitated manner.

Hereupon ensued an embarra.s.sing pause in the conversation, during which the ladies could not avoid observing the livid hue of Clarence's face. There was a perfect tumult raging in his breast; he knew that now his long-treasured secret would be brought out; this was to be the end of his struggle to preserve it--to be exposed at last, when on the brink of consummating his happiness. As he sat there, looking at George Stevens, he became a murderer in his heart; and if an invisible dagger could have been placed in his hands, he would have driven it to the hilt in his breast, and stilled for ever the tongue that was destined to betray him.

But it was too late; one glance at the contemptuous, malignant face of the son of his father's murderer, told him his fate was sealed--that it was now too late to avert exposure. He grew faint, dizzy, ill,--and rising, declared hurriedly he must go, staggered towards the door, and fell upon the carpet, with a slight stream of blood spirting from his mouth.

Little Birdie screamed, and ran to raise him; George Stevens and Miss Ellstowe gave their a.s.sistance, and by their united efforts he was placed upon the sofa. Little Birdie wiped the b.l.o.o.d.y foam from his mouth with her tiny lace handkerchief, bathed his head, and held cold water to his lips; but consciousness was long returning, and they thought he was dying.

Poor torn heart! pity it was thy beatings were not stilled then for ever.

It was not thy fate; long, long months of grief and despair were yet to come before the end approached and day again broke upon thee.

Just at this crisis Mr. Bates came in, and was greatly shocked and alarmed by Clarence's deathly appearance. As he returned to consciousness he looked wildly about him, and clasping little Birdie's hand in his, gazed at her with a tender imploring countenance: yet it was a despairing look--such a one as a shipwrecked seaman gives when, in sight of land, he slowly relaxes his hold upon the sustaining spar that he has no longer the strength to clutch, and sinks for ever beneath the waters.

A physician was brought in, who declared he had ruptured a minor blood-vessel, and would not let him utter a whisper, and, a.s.sisted by Mr.

Bates, placed him in his carriage, and the three were driven as swiftly as possible to the hotel where Clarence was staying. Little Birdie retired to her room in great affliction, followed by Miss Ellstowe, and George Stevens was left in the room alone.

"What can the fellow have been doing here?" he soliloquised; "on intimate terms too, apparently; it is very singular; I will wait Miss Ellstowe's return, and ask an explanation."

When Miss Ellstowe re-entered the room, he immediately inquired, "What was that Mr. Garie doing here? He seems on an exceedingly intimate footing, and your friend apparently takes a wonderful interest in him."

"Of course she does; that is her _fiance_."

"_Impossible_!" rejoined he, with an air of astonishment.

"Impossible!--why so? I a.s.sure you he is. They are to be married in a few weeks. I am here to officiate as bridesmaid."

"Phew!" whistled George Stevens; and then, after pausing a moment, he asked, "Do you know anything about this Mr. Garie--anything, I mean, respecting his family?"

"Why, no--that is, nothing very definite, more than that he is an orphan, and a gentleman of education and independent means."

"Humph!" e.j.a.c.u.l.a.t.ed George Stevens, significantly.

"Humph!" repeated Miss Ellstowe, "what do you mean? Do you know anything beyond that? One might suppose you did, from your significant looks and gestures."

"Yes, I _do_ know something about this Mr. Garie," he replied, after a short silence. "But tell me what kind of people are these you are visiting--Abolitionists, or anything of that sort?"

"How absurd, Mr. Stevens, to ask such a question; of course they are not,"

said she, indignantly; "do you suppose I should be here if they were? But why do you ask--is this Mr. Garie one?"

"No, my friend," answered her visitor; "_I wish that was all_."

"That was all!--how strangely you talk--you alarm me," continued she, with considerable agitation. "If you know anything that will injure the happiness of my friend--anything respecting Mr. Garie that she or her father should know--make no secret of it, but disclose it to me at once.

Anne is my dearest friend, and I, of course, must be interested in anything that concerns her happiness. Tell me, what is it you know?"

"It is nothing, I a.s.sure you, that it will give me any pleasure to tell,"

answered he. "Do speak out, Mr. Stevens. Is there any stain on his character, or that of his family? Did he ever do anything dishonourable?"

"_I wish that was all_," coolly repeated George Stevens. "I am afraid he is a villain, and has been imposing himself upon this family for what he is not."

"Good Heavens! Mr. Stevens, how is he a villain or impostor?"

"You all suppose him to be a white man, do you not?" he asked.

"Of course we do," she promptly answered.

"Then you are all grievously mistaken, for he is not. Did you not notice how he changed colour, how agitated he became, when I was presented? It was because he knew that his exposure was at hand. I know him well--in fact, he is the illegitimate son of a deceased relative of mine, by a mulatto slave."

"It cannot be possible," exclaimed Miss Ellstowe, with a wild stare of astonishment. "Are you sure of it?"

"Sure of it! of course I am. I should indeed be a rash man to make such a terrible charge unless perfectly able to substantiate it. I have played with him frequently when a child, and my father made a very liberal provision for this young man and his sister, after the death of their father, who lost his life through imprudently living with this woman in Philadelphia, and consequently getting himself mixed up with these detestable Abolitionists."

"Can this be true?" asked Miss Ellstowe, incredulously.

"I a.s.sure you it is. We had quite lost sight of them for a few years back, and I little supposed we should meet under such circ.u.mstances. I fear I shall be the cause of great discomfort, but I am sure in the end I shall be thanked. I could not, with any sense of honour or propriety, permit such a thing as this marriage to be consummated, without at least warning your friends of the real position of this fellow. I trust, Miss Ellstowe, you will inform them of what I have told you." "How can I? Oh, Mr. Stevens!"

said she, in a tone of deep distress, "this will be a terrible blow--it will almost kill Anne. No, no; the task must not devolve on me--I cannot tell them. Poor little thing! it will break her heart, I am afraid."

"Oh, but you must, Miss Ellstowe; it would seem very impertinent in me--a stranger--to meddle in such a matter; and, besides, they may be aware of it, and not thank me for my interference."

"No, I a.s.sure you they are not; I am confident they have not the most distant idea of such a thing--they would undoubtedly regard it as an act of kindness on your part. I shall insist upon your remaining until the return of Mr. Bates, when I shall beg you to repeat to him what you have already revealed to me."

"As you insist upon it, I suppose I must," repeated he, after some reflection; "but I must say I do not like the office of informer,"

concluded he, with a.s.sumed reluctance.

"I am sorry to impose it upon you; yet, rest a.s.sured, they will thank you.

Excuse me for a few moments--I will go and see how Anne is."

Miss Ellstowe returned, after a short interval, with the information that little Birdie was much more composed, and would, no doubt, soon recover from her fright.

"To receive a worse blow," observed George Stevens. "I pity the poor little thing--only to think of the disgrace of being engaged to a n.i.g.g.e.r. It is fortunate for them that they will make the discovery ere it be too late.

Heavens! only think what the consequences might have been had she married this fellow, and his peculiar position became known to them afterwards! She would have been completely 'done for.'"

Thus conversing respecting Clarence, they awaited the return of Mr. Bates.

After the lapse of a couple of hours he entered the drawing-room. Mr.

Stevens was presented to him by Miss Ellstowe, as a particular friend of herself and family. "I believe you were here when I came in before; I regret I was obliged to leave so abruptly," courteously spoke Mr. Bates, whilst bowing to his new acquaintance; "the sudden and alarming illness of my young friend will, I trust, be a sufficient apology."