there's no finer property in the State, and that he has a yearly
income of ten thousand or more, why, tell him or her so. And you may
as well say, at the same time, that he is too stingy and mean to keep
the one in repair, or spend decently the other. And when he
dies"--here she suddenly checked herself--"well, when he dies, his
heirs, whoever they may be, will inherit all the more because of his
meanness."

"And who, pray, may be his heirs?"

"How should I know who a stingy old reprobate will choose to inherit
after him? I think he has a sister somewhere, but I don't know."

"H'm, thank you--for my friend. Good-night."

Smiling that same Mephistophelian smile, Lucian Davlin sauntered away,
apparently satisfied with himself and what was passing in his mind.

"He'll do," he muttered; "and she'll do him. It will be a good thing
for her, just now, and very convenient for me into the bargain. Cora's
a marvellously fine woman, but little Madeline is fresh as a rose, and
a few months of the city will make her sharp enough. Only let me keep
them apart; that's all." Satisfaction beamed in his eye and smiled on
his lip. "Pretty Madeline will be the envy of half the boulevard."

Now he has neared the trysting tree. "I think I'll just smoke here,
and wait for my pretty bird; this is the place and almost the time."

He smoked and he waited; the time came, and passed; his cigar expired;
the shadows deepened--but still he waited.

And he waited in vain. No light form advanced through, the gathering
night; no sweet voice greeted him.

The time was far past now, and, muttering an oath, the disappointed
lover strode away, and was lost in the night.

Madeline was standing in her own room, the threshold of which John
Arthur had never crossed since the day when a silent form was borne
from it, and laid in that peaceful home, the churchyard. She had just
received the summons, for which, only, she lingered--the command of
Mr. Arthur to attend at the altar of hospitality, and pour, for Mr.
Amos Adams, the tea.

She was attired in a neat dark garment which was vastly becoming. She
had made her toilet with more than usual care, as if, perhaps, to do
honor to her ancient suitor--at least so thought Mr. Arthur, when she
presented herself before him.

She had put her chiefest treasures in a little, a very little,
travelling bag. And now she threw across her arm a large cloak, took
her hat, veil, and bag, and descended softly to the h