oking with her
keenest glance at Abel.

He, sprang up and began to say something; but his sister's eye arrested
him.

"Oh yes," said he, hurriedly--"Dinks, I've heard about Alfred Dinks.
What a devil of a name!"

"Come, dear, you'd better go up stairs and see mamma," said Fanny; "and
I'm so sorry you missed Aunt Dagon. She was here this morning, lovely as
ever. But I think the velvet is wearing off her claws."

Fanny Newt laughed a cold little laugh. Abel went out of the room.

"Master Abel, then, does know Miss Hope Wayne," said she to herself. "He
more than knows her--he loves her--or thinks he does. Wouldn't he have
known if she had been engaged to her cousin?"

She pondered a little while.

"I don't believe," thought Miss Fanny, "that she is engaged to him."

Miss Fanny was pleased with that thought, because she meant to be engaged
to him herself, if it proved to be true, as every body declared, that he
had ten or fifteen thousand a year.

CHAPTER XIV.

A NEW YORK MERCHANT.

Mr. Lawrence Newt, the brother of Boniface, sat in his office. It
was upon South Street, and the windows looked out upon the shipping
in the East River--upon the ferry-boats incessantly crossing--upon the
lofty city of Brooklyn opposite, with its spires. He heard the sailors
sing--the oaths of the stevedores--the bustle of the carts, and the hum
and scuffle of the passers-by. As he sat at his table he saw the ships
haul into the stream--the little steamers that puffed alongside bringing
the passengers; then, if the wind were not fair, pulling and shoving the
huge hulks into a space large enough for them to manage themselves in.

Sometimes he watched the parting of passengers at the wharf when the wind
was fair, and the ship could sail from her berth. The vast sails were
slowly unfurled, were shaken out, hung for a few moments, then shook
lazily, then filled round and full with the gentle, steady wind. Mr.
Lawrence Newt laughed as he watched, for he thought of fine ladies
taking their hair out of curl-papers, and patting and smoothing and
rolling it upon little sticks and over little fingers until the curls
stood round and full, and ready for action.

Then the ship moved slowly, almost imperceptibly, from the wharf--so
slowly, so imperceptibly, that the people on board thought the city was
sliding away from them. The merchant saw the solid, trim, beautiful
vessel turn her bow southward and outward, and glide gently down th