"How's that? The law does not allow you to touch her earnings, now you are divorced."

"All women are fools about law matters. She don't know that," sneered Stahle. "She is probably traveling alone, and I will frighten her into it--that's half the battle. I owe her something for the cool way she walked round all the traps I sprung for her, without getting caught. I thought when I left her that she would just fold her hands, and let the first man who offered find her in clothes, on his own terms, for she never was brought up to work, and I knew she had no relations that would give her any thing but advice;" and Stahle gave a low, chuckling laugh.

"You see I always look all round before I leap, Smith. I can't understand it now, and I never have, why she didn't do as I expected, for she might have had lovers enough. She was good-looking, and it was what I reckoned on to sustain the rumors I took care to circulate about her before I left; but what does she do but shut herself up, work night and day, and give the lie to every one of them. I wrote to my brother, Fred, to try every way to catch her tripping, to track her to every boarding-house she went to, and hint things to the landlord, carefully, of course. Fred knows how to do it; but you know if a woman does nothing but mind her own business, and never goes into company, a rumor against her will very soon die out. I kept spies constantly at work, but it was no use, confound her; but some of her money I will have. Here she is living in clover, going to the Springs, and all that; while I am a poor clerk in a grocery store. I feel as cheap when any Eastern man comes in, and recognizes me there, as if I had been stealing. I won't stand it; Mrs. Gertrude Dean, as she calls herself, has got to hand over the cash.

If I can't ruin her reputation, I'll have some of her money."

"You advertised her in the papers, didn't you, when you left?--(after the usual fashion, 'harboring and trusting,' and all that)--were you afraid she would run you in debt?"

"Devil a bit; she's too proud for that; she would have starved first."

"Why did you do it, then?"

"To mortify her confounded pride," said Stahle, with a diabolical sneer, "and to injure her in public estimation. That stroke, at least, told for a time."

"A pretty set of friends she must have had," said Smith, "to have stood by and borne all that."

"Oh, I know _them_ all, root and branch. I knew I could go to the full length of my rope without any of their interference. In fact, their neglect of her helped me more than any thing else. Every body said I must have been an injured man, and that the stories I had circulated _must_ be true about her, or they would certainly have defended and sheltered her. I knew them--I knew it would work just so; that was so much in my favor, you see."

"They liked you, then?"

Stahle applied his thumbs to the end of his nose, and gave another diabolical sneer.

"Liked me! Humph! They all looked down on me as a vulgar fellow. I was tolerated, and that was all--hardly that."

"I don't understand it, then," said Smith.

"I do, though; if they _defended_ her, they would have no excuse for not helping her. It was the cash, you see, the cash! so they preferred siding with me, vulgar as they thought me. I knew them--I knew how it would work before I began."

"Well, I suppose this is all very interesting to you," said Smith, yawning, "but as I am confounded tired and sleepy, and as it is after midnight, I shall wish you good-night."

"Good-night," said Stahle. "I shall smoke another cigar while I arrange my plans. This is the last quiet night's sleep 'Mrs. Gertrude Dean' will have for some time, I fancy."

"Scoundrel!" exclaimed John, leaping suddenly upon the piazza through his low parlor window. "Scoundrel! I have you at last," and well aimed and vigorous were the blows which John dealt his sister's traducer.

Your woman slanderer is invariably a coward--the very nature of his offense proves it. There never was one yet who dared face a man in fair fight; and so on his knees Stahle pleaded like a whipped cur for mercy.

"Go, cowardly brute," said John, kicking him from the piazza. "If you are seen here after daylight, the worse for you."

"Very strange," muttered Smith the next morning, "very strange.

Something unexpected must have turned up to send Stahle off in such a hurry. Well, he is a sneaking villain. I am bad enough, but what I do is open and above board. I don't say prayers or sing psalms to cover it up.

I don't care whether I ever hear from him again or not."

CHAPTER LV.

"How radiant you look this morning," exclaimed Gertrude, in astonishment, as she opened Rose's chamber door, and sat down by her bed-side; "your eyes have such a dazzling sparkle, and your cheeks such a glow. What is it, _ma pet.i.te_?" she asked, still gazing on the speechless Rose.

"Vincent is not dead," said Rose, slowly and oracularly, "Vincent is not false. The weight has gone from here, Gertrude," laying her hand on her heart. "I shall see him, though I can not tell you how nor where; but he will come back to me and Charley. I saw him last night in my dream--so n.o.ble--so good--but, oh! so wan, with the weary search for me. I hid my face--I could not look in his eyes--for I had doubted him--but he forgave me; oh! Gertrude, it was blessed, the clasp of those shadowy arms," and Rose smiled, and closed her eyes again, as if to shut out the sight of all that might dim her spiritual vision.

"Poor--poor Rose!" murmured Gertrude, terrified at the idea which forced itself upon her, "reason gone! Poor Rose!" and as she gazed, the warm tears fell upon the pillow.

Gertrude pa.s.sed her soft hand magnetizingly over Rose's closed lids and temples; gradually the bright flush left her cheek, and she sank quietly to sleep.

"Was this to be the end of all Rose's sufferings? G.o.d forbid," murmured Gertrude. "Death itself were preferable to this," said she, her eyes still riveted on the beauty of that pale, childish face.

"Hush!" whispered Gertrude, with her finger on her lips, as her brother rapped on the door for her; she little thought that she had an unread page in her own eventful history to turn.

"I am so glad I did not see him," exclaimed she, when her brother finished his narration. "I should have felt as if a rattlesnake lay coiled in my path. He deserved his chastis.e.m.e.nt; and yet, John, I do not like this whipping system; it always seems to me as if a gentleman who stooped to it put himself on a level with the villain whom he punished."

"It is the only way, Gertrude," said the doctor; "especially where the law gives no redress. Besides, it is the only thing that appeals to that kind of fellow."

"But he is so vindictive;" said Gertrude, looking apprehensively at her brother, "he may lay coiled like a wounded snake, but he will yet make a spring."

"You forget that his Christian reputation stands in the way of any such little personal gratification," said John, sarcastically.

"He has been able, though, heretofore, to make a compromise with it,"

said Gertrude.

"Ah! he had only a woman to deal with," answered John, "and one whom he knew would suffer in silence, as many an injured high-minded woman has done before, rather than sacrifice the delicacy of her s.e.x, by publicly brandishing the cudgel in her own defense, even in a righteous cause.

_I_ shall have no such scruples, and you will see that he understands it. A good sound flagellation is the only 'moral suasion' for such women tyrants; it is only against the defenseless such cowards dare wage war."

"Let us talk of something else," said Gertrude; and she related to John what had transpired between her and Rose.

John looked very grave, and sat absorbed in thought.

"I knew it would trouble you," said Gertrude; "it would be so dreadful should she lose her reason."

"I do not fear that," replied John; "I do not think her mind was wandering when she told you her dream. I think you will find that she will be perfectly sane when she wakes.

"Her dream,"--and John hesitated, "may prove true; stranger things have happened. Stronger chains of evidence than that which apparently overthrew her hopes have been snapped in twain, and, if--he should--be living--if--he--should prove worthy of her--dear as she is to me, I feel Gertrude, that my love is capable of self-sacrifice. I will use my best endeavors to bring them together.

"I shall never love again," said John; "I shall never see another woman who will so satisfy my soul, so pure, so childlike, so trusting, and yet so strong, so immovable in what she considers right--so vastly superior to all other women. I _had_ woven bright dreams, in which she had a part," and John walked to the window to conceal his emotion.

Gertrude did not follow him; she knew from experience that there are moments when the presence even of the dearest friend is a restraint, when the overcharged spirit must find relief only in solitude and self-communing, and with a heart yearning with tenderness toward her brother, she stole softly from his presence.

CHAPTER LVI.

"Don't talk to me, Mrs. Howe," said her husband, slamming to the door, and dumping down in his arm-chair as if to try the strength of the seat.

"If there is any thing I hate, Mrs. Howe, it is that tribe of popinjays, one of whom has just gone through that door; hate don't express it, Mrs.

Howe, I detest, and abominate, and despise him."