the old aunty is out," he continued, "for I want to see you on
special business."

Ella noticed how excited he appeared, and always on the alert for
something when he was with her, she began to tremble, and without
knowing what she said, asked him "what he wanted of her?"

"Zounds!" thought Henry, "she meets me more than half-way;" and then,
lest his resolution should fail, he reseated her in the chair she had
left, and drawing an ottoman to her side, hastily told her of his
love, ending his declaration, by saying that from the first time he
ever saw her, he had determined that she should be his wife! And Ella,
wholly deceived, allowed her head to droop upon his shoulder, while
she whispered to him her answer. Thus they were betrothed,--Henry
Lincoln and Ella Campbell.

"Glad am I to be out of that atmosphere," thought the newly engaged
young man, as he reached the open air, and began to breathe more
freely. "Goodness me, won't I lead a glorious life, with that jar of
tomato sweetmeats! Now, if she'd only hung back a little,--but no, she
said yes before I fairly got the words out; but money covereth a
multitude of sins,--I beg your pardon, ma'am," said he quickly, as he
became conscious of having rudely jostled a young lady, who was
turning the corner.

Looking up, he met Mary Howard's large, dark eyes fixed rather
inquiringly upon him. She was accompanied by one of Mr. Selden's
servants, and he felt sure she was going to visit her sister. Of
course, Ella would tell her all, and what must Mary think of one who
could so soon repeat his vows of love to another? In all the world
there was not an individual for whose good opinion Henry Lincoln cared
one half so much as for Mary Howard's; and the thought that he should
now surely lose it maddened him. The resolution of the morning was
forgotten, and that night a fond father watched and wept over his
inebriate son, for never before had Henry Lincoln been so beastly
intoxicated.

CHAPTER XXVII.

THE SHADOWS DEEPEN.

From one of the luxuriously furnished chambers of her father's elegant
mansion, Jenny Lincoln looked mournfully out upon the thick angry
clouds, which, the livelong day, had obscured the winter sky. Dreamily
for a while she listened to the patter of the rain as it fell upon the
deserted pavement below, and then, with a long, deep sigh, she turned
away and wept. Poor Jenny!--the day was rainy, and dark, and dreary,
but darker far were the shadows