dless here to add, that Mr. Soloman had, in an
interview with the Judge, arranged, in consideration of a goodly fee, to
assume the responsibility of the betrayal at the St. Cecilia; and also
to bring about a reconciliation between him and the girl he so
passionately sought.
Keep out of the way a few days, and everything will blow over and come
right. I will procure you the Judge's friendship--yes, his money, if you
want. More than that, I will acknowledge my guilt to Anna; and being as
generous of heart as she is beautiful, she will, having discovered the
mistake, forgive me and make amends to the Judge for her foolish act.
It is almost superfluous to add, that the apparent sincerity with which
the accommodation man pleaded, had its effect on the weak-minded man. He
loved dearly the girl, but poverty hung like a leaden cloud over him.
Poverty stripped him of the means of gratifying her ambition; poverty
held him fast locked in its blighting chains; poverty forbid his
rescuing her from the condition necessity had imposed upon her; poverty
was goading him into crime; and through crime only did he see the means
of securing to himself the cherished object of his love.
"I am not dead to your friendship, but I am too sad at heart to make any
pledge that involves Anna, at this moment. We met in wretchedness, came
up in neglect and crime, sealed our love with the hard seal of
suffering. Oh! what a history of misery my heart could unfold, if it had
but a tongue!" George replies, in subdued accents, as a tear courses
down his cheek.
Extending his hand, with an air of encouragement, Mr. Soloman says
nothing in the world would so much interest him as a history of the
relations existing between George and Anna. Their tastes, aims, and very
natures, are different. To him their connection is clothed in mystery.
CHAPTER IX.
IN WHICH A GLEAM OF LIGHT IS SHED ON THE HISTORY OF ANNA BONARD.
A bottle of wine, and the mild, persuasive manner of Mr. Snivel, so
completely won over George's confidence, that, like one of that class
always too ready to give out their heart-achings at the touch of
sympathy, and too easily betrayed through misplaced confidence, he
commences relating his history. That of Anna is identified with it. "We
will together proceed to New York, for it is there, among haunts of vice
and depravity--"
"In depth of degradation they have no counterpart on our globe," Mr.
Soloman interrupts, filling his
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