had been bestowed upon the beggar by his
brother; but he forbore to question him, lest it should lead them upon a
subject unpleasant to both; and thus grew up the first concealment
between those hitherto confiding hearts.

Reaching the square, they passed through the gate, and turned into a
grassy walk, to enjoy ever so small a glimpse of verdant country scenes.
Strolling on, they came suddenly upon a figure reclining at full length
upon a bench, and smoking a cigar. As they approached, there was
something in the man's appearance that seemed to startle Arthur, for he
clutched his brother's arm closer, and turned abruptly to the left; but
he was too late to pass unperceived, for, with a bound, the reclining
figure gained its feet, and in an instant more Arthur's hand received a
cordial grasp, while Mr. Clinton, as nicely dressed, as neatly curled,
and as delicately perfumed as ever, stood before him.

CHAPTER XII.

"How oft the sight of means to do ill deeds
Makes ill deeds done!"

"My dear fellow, how glad I am to meet you!" cried Clinton, cordially
extending his hand in a manner which permitted the diamond on his finger
to catch the light, in what he thought a most bewildering glitter.

Arthur would have shunned him, as his new resolutions and good genius
prompted him to do; but there was that graceful form half-bent for his
greeting, there was that smiling face, looking its hearty "How are you?"
there was the social yet searching glance of that glittering eye, all
saying, "Shake hands with me," and Arthur did.

"Mr. Clinton, how do you do?"

"Well, my boy, well; really hope you've got over the effects of your
Carrolton ride. By-the-by, Quirk got you into that muss, not I, by Jove!
You were inclined to be a little huffy this morning; however you were
excusable--that's all forgotten. You'll do me justice now--there, give
me your hand again, and tell me you consider me one of you."

Arthur's generous heart could not withstand this merry, good-humored,
yet apparently sincere appeal, and the hand was again given. He thought,
too, that he might have been unjust in his reflections about Clinton,
for he had met him only by chance on his way to Carrolton, and in truth
he had urged him to no wrong, but had only joined him in what he was
already doing. Then, had he not kindly been the means of liberating him
from the watch-house, when he might otherwise have been left to meet the
shame and expense of a