phaeton of Mrs. John
Arthur."--page 229.]

MADELINE PAYNE,

THE DETECTIVE'S DAUGHTER.

CHAPTER I.

MAN PROPOSES.

"H'm! And you scarcely remember your mother, I suppose?"

"No, Lucian; I was such a mere babe when she died, I have often
wondered what it would be like to have a mother. Auntie Hagar was
always very kind to me, however; so kind, in fact, that my
step-father, fearing, he said, that I would grow up self-willed and
disobedient, sent her away, and procured the services of the ugly old
woman you saw in the garden. Poor Auntie Hagar," sighed the girl, "she
was sorely grieved at our parting and, that she might be near me,
bought the little cottage in the field yonder."

"Oh!" ejaculated the man, more as if he felt that he was expected to
say something, than as if really interested in the subject under
discussion. "Ah--er--was--a--was the old lady a property holder, then?
Most discharged servants go up and down on the earth, seeking what
they may devour--in another situation."

"That is the strangest part of the affair, Lucian; she had money.
Where it came from, I never could guess, nor would she ever give me
any information on the subject. It was a legacy--that was all I was to
know, it seemed.

"I remember," she continued, musingly, "how very much astonished I was
to receive, from my step-father, a lecture on this head. He took the
ground that my childish curiosity was unpardonably rude, and angrily
forbade me to ask further questions. And I am sure that since that one
instance of wonderful regard for the feelings of Aunt Hagar, he has
not deigned to consider the comfort and happiness of any, save and
always himself."

As the girl's voice took on a tone of scornful sarcasm; as her cheeks
flushed and her eyes flashed while memory recalled the many instances
of unfeeling cruelty and neglect, that had brought tears to her
childish eyes and pain to her lonely heart--the eyes of Lucian Davlin
became bright with admiration, and something more; something that
might have caused her honest eyes to wonder and question, if she had
but intercepted the glance. But her thoughts had taken a backward
turn. Without looking up, perceiving by his silence that he had no
desire to interrupt her, she proceeded, half addressing herself:

"I used to ask him about my mother, and was always informed that he
'didn't care to converse of dead folks.' Finally, he assured me that
he was 'tired of seeing my sickly, ugl