The Brother Clerks; A Tale of New-Orleans.

by Мэри Эшли Таунсенд Xariffa

  When the foot-print upon the floor was pointed out to him, he started, and turned slightly pale; inspecting it at the same time closely. There were marks of other feet, but they were mixed and confused, but this had gone higher in the store than the rest; there were tracks going and returning. The foot was small, elegantly-shaped, and, from appearance, with an instep so high that water might flow freely under without soiling the sole. After examining it for awhile, Mr. Delancey was observed to set his own foot on it, as if to note if there were any similitude. He turned away with a puzzled look, but in a few minutes called Jeff to him.

  "How came you away from your post last night, eh?"

  Jeff explained.

  "Well, how came this handkerchief of yours, and this jack-knife, that I gave you the other day, lying near the broken pane, in the bow-window, this morning, eh! you black rascal? tell me that!"

  Jeff trembled in every joint, and caught hold of a chair for support.

  "Guy, Massa, dem tings was in my pocket last night, jis 'fore I went to bed; I remember usin' 'em 'fore Mr. Quirk went out; but I'se sure I know nuffin more 'bout 'em."

  "Don't you lie to me, sir! If you've had a hand in this business, I'll have your black neck twisted off, I will. Get out of my sight!"

  The expression of poor Jeff's face was pitiful to behold. He turned away, with his trembling hands clasped before him, and his great eyes looking upward, as if imploring mercy.

  Mr. Delancey then went into Guly's room, and listened to his recital of what had occurred, so far as he knew, during the night.

  "And you are sure you have seen this young man, who drew his dirk on you, before?"

  "Positive of it, sir. I caught but a glimpse of him last night, but it was sufficient to show me who it was."

  "If I send for an officer, you will describe him?"

  "To the best of my ability, sir."

  "Be up to-day, I s'pose, won't you?" added the merchant, putting his head into the room after he had gone out.

  "Shall try to do so, sir."

  "Sure you know nothing of that other scamp?"

  "As I told you, sir, he was masked closely, and-"

  The door closed without giving him time to finish the sentence; a fact, which Guly was not sorry for.

  Mr. Delancey ordered the store to be kept closed until things could be put in proper order; gave Wilkins orders to purchase and replace, as far as possible, the stolen goods, then stepped into his carriage, and drove home to breakfast.

  The merchant's commands were always promptly obeyed. The officer came to converse with Guly-the broken shutter and window-pane were mended or replaced-new goods wore purchased, and put in place of the old ones, and by afternoon no one would have suspected that a robbery had been committed at No. -Chartres-street.

  CHAPTER XXIX.

  "It requires swift foot."

  Timon of Athens.

  "Fly now, for your life fly," whispered Quirk, eagerly, to Clinton, as, rid of Arthur, they pursued their way through the thick darkness and pelting storm. "If the cry of that white-faced stripling has roused Wilkins, we're as good as lost, unless we outstrip him; for I'd about as soon have a dozen blood-hounds at my heels as him."

  They sped on in silence-only now and then stopping to change hands with their heavy load-until they once more stood at the door of Clinton's house. Here, placing their booty upon the ground, Clinton lifted up a trap-door, concealed just under the steps leading up to the front entrance. With Quirk's assistance, he placed the bags of goods, one by one, in a sort of cellar, rather large than deep, thus made on account of the thinness of the soil, and closely stoned and cemented, in order to be perfectly dry. Closing the door cautiously, once more, Clinton locked it, placed over it some broken bricks, loose earth, and tufts of grass, so as effectually to conceal it, then crept out, and rubbing the dust from his clothes, prepared to enter. Quirk went in with him, and they seated themselves in the little back-room, which they had left two short hours before.

  "A capital haul for one night," said Clinton, triumphantly, flinging off his great-coat, and drawing his chair to the grate, where a cheerful fire was burning, rendered necessary by the dampness.

  "It isn't the first thing of the kind you were ever engaged in, Clin?"

  "You know better," returned the other, with an easy confidence, but at the same time a grave look crossing his features.

  "Believe me, I don't want to pry into private matters, but I couldn't help wondering to-night, as we came along, if this pretty little wife of yours knew the secret of your outgoings and your incomings."

  "No, thank Heaven!" replied Clinton, with more earnestness that one would have deemed him capable of. "No, she hasn't a suspicion of such things."

  "Glad of it," said Quirk, "she's happier; but I say, old boy, havn't you sometimes regretted the faithfulness to a poor girl which has deprived you of your inheritance, and forced you upon such deeds as to-night for a living?"

  "No! My faithfulness to Marion has made a better man of me in some respects than otherwise I ever could have been, though it may have made me worse in others. I have in her a noble and excellent wife, with all the sterling good qualities, which, had I married a fashionable woman, I could never have found. As for my inheritance, I would care little had I but some honest trade by which to live-but that my father thought too plebeian to be introduced in the education of his fashionable son-however, if I can pick his clerk's pocket of a few more bank deposits, with my part of our spoils to-night, I'll do. I'm not always going to be so bad. If my life is spared till this business is settled, I shall spend the rest of my days in Havana. Even with the memory of my crimes in my heart, I believe I can be happy with such a treasure in my bosom as Marion. My father's pride has been my curse-my sins be upon his head."

  "And if you're found out in this business, what do you think will be done?"

  "Oh, I shall be bought up, without doubt. The old man's spirit could never brook to have it said he had a child in prison committed for burglary."

  "Well, 'tis as well to be cautious; for I fear that young Pratt knew you, and he'll tell all he saw, I'll be bound. Reckon though if he knew he had a brother in the scrape he'd be tongue-tied. I have tried to turn suspicion on Jeff, the negro. I picked his pocket of a knife and a handkerchief, and threw them down there somewhere. I 'spose the boss would almost be tempted to string him up if he thought him guilty; however, a nigger more or less is nothing-but when it comes to such valuable members of society as you and I, caution is necessary." Here Quirk laughed coarsely.

  "I'll wear whiskers awhile; that'll be disguise enough for me," said Clinton. "All that worries me is Arthur Pratt's proceeding-hope he's been good pluck."

  "Never fear him; he's a little too conscientious yet awhile to be much of a b'hoy, but he'd be ashamed to show he couldn't do as well as the best of us. If that nigger didn't wake up when he went in we're safe enough in that quarter."

  "Have as little to say to him as possible, to-morrow, and remember to be duly surprised at the news of the burglary."

  "Trust me for that; I shall take proper care of our interests, I assure you."

  "As for the disposal of the goods, that, I suppose, comes entirely upon my shoulders. I think I will dispose of this lot to Talbot; he is the best paymaster, and the first dark night I will get them away from here. After that, call for your dividends. If you are by any odd chance arrested before that, remember your oath-don't implicate anybody. Honor among thieves, you know."

  "Aye, aye," returned Quirk, drinking deeply of some wine which stood upon the table. "You'll live long if you wait for me to hang you. Good night."

  "Good night."

  They shook hands and parted, and Quirk hurried away to his lodgings, in order to be able to say that he had occupied his own room, etc., etc., in case of trouble. As he strode away, a strange little figure enveloped in a long coat and a tattered old shawl, the better to protect it from the weather, appeared from the shadow of an adjoining building, and swung h
imself along between his crutches, muttering to himself: "Hih! hih! get the reward for these thieves-watch the papers I will-know all about 'em-get the reward, hih! hih! hih! hih!" and the darkness swallowed him up as it had done him who had gone before.

  CHAPTER XXX.

  But, Othello, speak-

  Did you by indirect and forced courses,

  Subdue and poison this young maid's affection?

  Or came it by request, and such fair question

  As soul to soul affordeth!

  Shakspeare.

  Mr. Delancey sat in his drawing-room conversing with General Delville; whom he was yet allowed to believe he might one day look upon as his son-in-law. The night was dark, and a penetrating, drizzling rain was falling, which rendered the cheerful scene in that vast appartment all the more bright and pleasant.

  Suddenly there came a startling ring at the door bell, the sound of which sent the blood in a hot flush to Della's temples, as she sat there quietly between her mother and the General, with her thoughts wandering where they chose, though she seemed to be listening to the conversation.

  A servant entered, saying that a gentleman desired to see Mr. Delancey.

  "Tell him I am engaged."

  "I did so, sir; but he insisted upon seeing you."

  "Perhaps some one bringing you news concerning the robbery," suggested Madame D.

  "Ah, perhaps so. Show him into the library and tell him I'll be with him in a moment."

  Excusing himself to his guest, the merchant sought the library. A tall man, wrapped in a heavy cloak, his hat still on and drawn over his brows, was walking impatiently back and forth across the floor. Mr. Delancey turned his cold eyes upon him earnestly for a moment and withdrew them nervously.

  "Mr. Wilkins, I believe?"

  "The same, sir."

  "And what brings you to my house to-night?"

  "That which has never brought me here before, sir, and never will again-business of a strictly private nature."

  Mr. Delancey looked somewhat disturbed, but drew a chair beside a large writing-desk, and motioning his visitor to be seated, placed himself in front of him.

  "Nothing wrong about the last load of goods? No trouble with the boats, is there, Wilkins?"

  "Nothing of the kind, sir; my business, as I told you, is of a strictly private nature."

  "Proceed, I am ready to listen."

  "And will you, sir, listen to me calmly; and make no sudden outbreaks or disturbance? I hate scenes, even with women, but with men, Heaven defend me!"

  "I know of nothing you could say, sir, that would call forth any such ebullitions as you speak of; I am not a man of unnecessary words, as you well know."

  "What I have to say can be told in a few words. I would, perhaps, do better to leave it unsaid; but I wish to repair, with what honor I can, a course, which in itself has not, perhaps, been strictly honorable. Do you know, sir, that I love your daughter?"

  Mr. Delancey stared at the head clerk for a moment, like a man suddenly struck dumb; then every trace of color vanished from his face.

  "My daughter, sir! You surely don't mean Della!"

  "Have you, then, another daughter? I mean none other than Miss Della; and I this night come to ask your consent to our union. We have loved long and sincerely, and-"

  "How dare you utter such words as these to me? You dare to tell me, that a child of mine has stooped to notice her father's clerk?"

  "Aye! not only has one stooped to love a clerk, but has not the other wedded a clerk's daughter? Mr. Delancey, I come to you as man to man; put away the difference of your wealth, and I am as high as yourself; as much a man, as high in station, and more honorable than yourself. Thus I dare to seek your daughter's hand; and crave her father's blessing."

  "Have a care, sir, of what you say-more honorable? you dare to tell me that?"

  "You know it to be the truth."

  The merchant turned slightly pale.

  "Mr. Wilkins, you put such a proposition as this you have suggested, merely for-merely to try me; you surely do not, cannot mean it?"

  "I mean it all, sir. I am not given to trifling on such matters, and I have come to you like an honest man to ask your child's hand, and gain consent or refusal."

  "And Della loves you?"

  "If I may believe her words, she does; and I have her sanction to tell this to you."

  Mr. Delancey started to his feet.

  "And how have you dared, sir, to steal into my child's heart, and rob me of her affections? how have you dared to come like a thief in the night, and steal that heart away? I had never a suspicion of this-never thought of it. Brute that you are, thus to abuse my confidence!"

  "Beware of what you say, sir. I have abused no confidence. Had you ever made me a guest at your house, ever treated me as if I had been human, like yourself, this might never have been. At least I would have wooed like an honest man, and your influence with your child might have nipped it in the bud. You must put up with the consequences of your own folly."

  "Where have you ever met my daughter?"

  "Never in this house, as you well know. Abroad, riding, walking, in spite of duennas and guardians, I have wooed, and won her to myself."

  "She must then have deceived you. I am certain she is the betrothed of General Delville, who this moment converses with her in the parlor."

  "You, sir, may be the one deceived. Della would not leave you without giving you a knowledge of her love. She bade me come to you, to ask her of you openly, and to tell you all."

  "Then, sir, once for all, let me tell you, you talk in vain; never will my pride permit my beautiful child-she whom I have educated and trained to grace the home of the first in our land-to become the humble bride of a hireling clerk. Out upon you, for daring to ask it!"

  "And where would be the pride you boast of, should I choose to bruit to the world those tales that I could tell, of long years of practiced deception and guilt on your part-of wealth acquired by fraudulent means-of midnight hours of watchfulness, which have brought you ship-loads of contraband goods-of days and weeks spent in devising means to escape the vigilance of our Government officers, of-"

  Wilkins stopped suddenly, for Mr. Delancey fell back in his chair, groaning aloud. The head clerk held a glass of water to his lips, and he slowly recovered, and looked up in his visitor's face with a beseeching glance in his cold gray eyes.

  "I am in your power, but spare me! spare me! Have mercy on an old man, who is weak and erring, but whose withered heart clings to his only daughter!"

  "You give me your consent?"

  "Ask anything but that."

  "And you prefer to have your name go forth to the world branded with shame and infamy, rather than give your daughter to an honest man, who will strive to make her a good husband, and whom she already loves?"

  Mr. Delancey moaned, and covered his face with his hands.

  "Rather would you that men point at you with the finger of scorn-that former friends despise you-that the world look down upon you, and speak your name with scoffing, rather this, than see your child happy with the man of her choice?"

  "Yes!" cried the merchant, springing to his feet, "if that man be you, a thousand times, yes! Go; do your worst; cast forth my name like waste-paper on the winds, scourge it, brand, blacken it; do what you will. Though you curse me to the confines of purgatory, my daughter never shall be yours!"

  "This is your final decision?"

  "My last-leave my house, sir, and never do you dare to darken its doors again."

  "You may regret, sir, what you have said to-night," said Wilkins, putting on his hat and cloak.

  "I shall always abide by it. Begone, sir! Why do you tarry?"

  The folds of the heavy cloak fluttered a moment in the door-way, then passed through it, and disappeared down the long stairs. Through those vast halls, with frowning brow and heavy tread, Bernard Wilkins strode, and the massive door closed after him for the first and last time, and he went forth into the silent streets
.

  CHAPTER XXXI.

  "I do beseech you, send for the lady,

  And let her speak."

  Othello.

  "Send the girl, Minny, to me," said Mr. Delancey to Della, as she was about leaving the breakfast-table, to go to her own room, the morning after Wilkins' visit to her father.

  Mr. Delancey, as was usual with him, had said not a word with regard to his interview with Wilkins, but he had thought of it deeply, and was now prepared to act.

  Della flew to her room.

  "Minny, dear Minny, papa wants you. He sent me for you, and I am certain something terrible is about to happen, his eyes look so strangely. I know Bernard must have come last night, as he said he would, and that is what has made papa seem so silent and angry. He wants to ask you about everything. Oh, Minny, tell him what you choose, but don't give up my precious letters-don't!"

  Della sank sobbing upon a chair, and Minny, pale as a ghost, glided away, and entered the apartment where Mr. Delancey awaited her.

  "So, girl, you have chosen to play the go-between for your mistress and a worthless fellow?"

  Minny was silent.

  "You who must know all, tell me what you know of this matter."

  "Nothing, sir, dishonorable to my master or his daughter."

  "No prevarication, minion. Whatever you know of, as having passed between Miss Della, and-and-this man, I wish you to state plainly here."

  "I can tell you no more, sir, than you already know."

  "By what means has this acquaintanceship been carried on? I know there has been no opportunity for much personal intercourse. Have you letters?"

  "If I have, sir, they are the property of my young mistress, and as such, I will deliver them to no one without her consent."

  "Fool! do you forget that you are my slave?"

  "As such, my first duty is to the mistress you have bade me serve."

  "Are the letters in your possession?"