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8 ?tuve-red composure, " that he ia coming to con? ifer wuh yon, this English lawyer means that ho is ooraing to deny my authority over my ward." " lou think BO?" " I am sure of it. I know him. He ?B O? Btinate and contentious. You will tell mc, my dear sir, who" her mv authority is 'anaaatiiable, um! rey ward is of age ?" " Absolutely unassailable." "I will enforce it. I witt make her sn'omit borsolf to it. For," said C'ocnreizer, cb&uging Ins angry tone to one of grateful 8ir*>oli6sion, *'I owe it to yon, sir; to you, wbc have so con? fidingly taken an ipjured nwt?i under your pro? tection, and into "four employment.'' ..Make your 'mind Ussy,"" said Maitre Voigt. No more of Vhis -now, and no thanks ! Bo here lo-inorrow morning, before the other clerk -cornea-between seven and eight. You will find me in thia room; and I will mj self initiate you in venir work. Go away 1 go awa.\ I I have letters to writ?. 1 won't hear a word more." Dismissed with this generous abruptness, and ?a?a?ed with the favorable impression be had deft on the old man's mind, Obenreizer was at leisure to revert to the mental note he had made that Murro Voigt once bad a cheat whose name was Vendale. t "CI ought to know England well enough by tlais time;" eo his meditatictiB ran, as he sat on ?a bouch in the yard; "audit is not a name I ever encountered there, except"-be looked in? voluntarily over his shoulder-" as his name. Is tba world so small that I cannot get away frcm bim, even now when he is dead ? He confessed at tho last that he had betrayed the trust of the .dead, and misiohorited a fortune. And I was to eee to it. Aua I was to stand off, that my fate might remind hun of LU Why my lace, unless lt concerned mc? I am sure ?I his worda, fer they hare been in my ears ever since. Cautnere be anything bearirg on them, in the keeping of tl s, old idiot ? Anything to repair my fortunes, and b'acken biB memory? He dwelt upon my earl: ii remembrances, that night at Basle. Why, unless he had a purpose in it ?" Maitre Voigt'a two largest he goats wore butting at him to butt bim out of the place, as if for that disrespectful mention of their in.is.ei-. So he got np and lott tho place. But he walked alone for a long time on the bor? der of tho -lake, with bis head drooped in doep thought. Between eeven and eight n?xt morning be presented himself again at thc office. Ee found cha notary ready for him, at work on sumo .pipers which had come in on the previous evening. In a few clear words, Maitre Voigt explained the routine of the office, and the duties Oboureizer would be expected Xo perform. It &till wanted five minutes to eight when the prebminary instructions were declared to be complete. '.I will Bhow you over the honso and the ?oibces.*' 6iid Maitre Voigt, " but I must put away these papers first. They come from the fuitlicipal authorities, and they must be taken Especial care of." Obonreizer saw bis chance here, of finding out the repository in which bis employer's private pap?is were kepi. " Can't 1 save yon tho trouble, sir ?" he askod. " Caj't 1 put thete documente away under your directions.- " Ma?tre Voigt laughed softly to himself; closed the portfolio in which tbe papers had been tent to bim; banded it to Obenreizer. " Suppose you try," he said " All my papers of importance aie kept yonder." He pointed to a heavy oaken door, thickly studded with nade, at thc lowereud ol the room. Approaching the door with the portfolio, Oben? reizer discovered to bis astonishment that there were no means whatever of opening it from the outside. There was no handle, no bolt, no key, and (climax of passive obstruction!) no ?ey h ole. "There is a second door to this room," said Obenreizer, appealing to tho notary. "No," ?aid Maiter Voigt. "Guess again." "There is a window." " Nothing of the sort. The window hw been bricked up. The only wav in is the way by that door. Do you give it uo ?" cried Maitre Yon,t, in high triumph. "Listen, my goad fellow, and teil me if you Lear nothing inside." Obenreizer listened for a moment, and started back from the door. " I kuow !" be exclaimed. " I beard of this when I v.as apprenticed here at the watch? maker's. Perrin Drotbers have finished their famous clock-lock at last-and you have got it." " Dravo 1" said Maitre Voigt. " The clock-lock it is ! There, my son 1 Tnere, you have one moro of what the good people of this town call ? Daddy Voigt's follies.' With all my heart I Let those laugh who win. No thief can steal my keys. No burglar can pick my lock. No power on earth short of a bali criag ram or a bairel of gunpowder can move that door till my little sen? tinel inside-my worthy friend who goeu 'Tick, Tick," as I tell him-says, 'OpenI' The big door obeya the little Tick, Tick, and tho little Tick, Tick obeys me. Thit 1" med Daddy Voigt, snapping his fingers, "lor all the thieves in Christendom !r ' May I eeo it la action ?" asked Obenreizer. " Pardon my curiosity, dear sir 1 Yon know that I was onco a tolerable worker in the clock trade." '. Certainly yon shall soo it in action," said Maitre Voigt. "What is the timo now! One minute to eight. Watch, and in one minute you will see the door open of itself." In one minute, smoothly and slowly and si? lently, as if invisible banda had set it free, the heavy door opened inward and disclosed a dark chamber beyond. On three sides shelves filled the walls from floor to ce; ling. Arranged on the shelves were rows-upan rows of boxes made in the pretty Lu aid woodwork of Switzerland, and bearing inpcrioed on then* fronts (for the most Dart in fanciful colored letters) the names of the notary's cherts. Ma?tre Voigt lighted a taper and led the way into the room. " You shall see tho clock, he said proudly. "I possess the greatest curiosity in Europe. It ie only a privileged few whose eyes can look at it. I g.ve the privilege to your good lather's eon, you eball be one of the favored few who enter the room with me. See, here it ie, on the right hand , wall at tbe Bide of the door." "An ordinary clock," exclaimed Obenreizer. "No. .Not an ordinary clock. It has only one hand." '. Aha I" said Maitre Voigt. " Not an ordinary dock, my fnend No, DO. That one hana goos round the dial. As I pat it, so it regulates the hoar at which the door shall open. See I The hand points to eight. At eight the door opened as you saw for yourself." "Does it open more than onco in the four and-twenty hoursV" asked Obenreizer. '.More than once," repeated tbe notary, with great scorn. " You don't know, my good friend, rici:. Tick. He will open the door as often as I ask bim. All ho wants is his directions, and he gets them here. Look below the dial. Here is a half circle of steel let into the wall, and here is a band (called the regulator) tbat trarels round it, just as my hand chooses. Notice, if you please, that ibero aro figures to guide me'on tho half circle of steel. Figure I means: Open once in the four-aud-twenty hours. Figure II means: Opentwico; and eo on to the end. I set the regulator every morning, after I have read my letters, and when I k.iow what my day's work ia to be. Would vou like to nee me set*it now? What is to-day r Wednesday. Good. Thia is tho day ot our nth-club: there is little bus i ress to do ; I grant a half a holiday. No work h**rc to-day, after three o'clock. Let us first put awav this portfolio of municipal papers. There! Nb ncoi to trouble Tick-Tick Ho open the door until eight to-morrow. Good! I leave the dial-hand at eight; I put back the ^regulator lo "I."; I clcs: the door; ana closed the door remains past all oponihg hy ?hybod tillto-morroir morning at eight." Obenreizer'e quickness fcslantly saw the mear by which he might mike the clock-lock betray lt master's confidence, and place ita master's pi pere at bia tits posa). "8tort;, air!"' he cried at the moment when th irjtsxy was closing the door. "Don't I see somt thing moving among the boxes-on the Hoc thore?" ( Aiaitre Voigt tamed hie back for a moment t look. In that moment Obenreizer's ready han put the regulator on from the figure "I." to th figure " II." Unless the notary looked again i tho half circle of steel, the door would open a eight that evening, as well as at eight nej morring, and nobody but Obeureizer woul Imo* is.) " Thore is nothing 1" said Maitre Voigt. "Yon troubles nave shaken your nerves, my son. Som shadow thrown by my taper; or some poor littl beetle who lives among the old lawyer a secret! ni minc a way' from the light. Hark I I hear you ! fellow-clerk in'the office. To work ! to work 1 an build to-day this first step that leads to vour net fortunes 1" He good-hnmoredly pushed Obenreizer on before him, extinguished the taper with a las fond glance at his clock which passed harm lessly over the regulator beneath, and closet the oaken door. At three the office waa shot np. The notary am everybody in the notary's emploVment, with on exception, went to see the rifle-shooting. Oben reizer had pleaded that be was not in spirits for i public festival. Nobody knew what had becom of him. It was believed that he had elippei away for a solitary walk. The house and offices had been closed but i few minutes, when the door of a shining ward robe, in the notary's shining room, opened, ant Obeureizer stepped out. He walked to a win dow, unclosed the shatters, Batiniicd ht m sel that he conld escape unseen by way of the gar den, turned back Into the room, and took hil place in the notary's easy chair, fie was locket up in the house, and there were five hoars tc wu't before eight o'clock came. He wore his way through the Ave hoars; some times reading the books and newspapers thal lay on the table, sometimes thinking, sometimei walking to and fro. Sunset came on. He closed the window-shutters before he kindled a light. The candle lighted, and the time drawing nearei and nearer, he sat, watch in hand, with his eyes on the oaken door. At eight, smoothly and softly and silently the door opened. One after another, he read the names on the outer rows of boxes. No such name as Vendale ! He removed the oater row, and looked at the row behind. These were older boxes, and shab? bier boxes. The four fiist that he examined, were inscribed with French and German names. The fifth bore a name which was almost illegi? ble. He brought it oat into the room, and ex? amined it closely. There, covered thickly with time-stains and dust, was the name: " Vendale." The key bong to the box by a string. He un? locked the box, took out fbnr loose papers that were in it, spread them open on the table, and began to read them. He had not so occupied a min?te, when his face fell from its expression of eagerness and aridity, to one of haggard astonishment find disappointment. But, after a little con? sideration, he copied the papers. He thon re? placed the papers, replaced the box, dosed the door, extinguished the candle, and stole away. Aa bis murderous and thievish footfall passed oat of the garden, the steps of the no ?ry and some one accompanying him stopped at the front door of the house. The lamps were lighted in ibo little street, and the notary had bis door key in bis hand. "Tray do not pass my hon se, Mr. Bintrey he said. "Co me tha bonos u> onrao in. It is one of oar town half holidays - oar Tir bat my people will ba back directly. It ia droll that you should ask your way to the hotel of mo. Let us cit and drink before you go thero." "Thank yon; not to-night," said Bintrey. " Shall I come to yon at ten to-morrow ?" " I shall be enchanted, sir, to take so early an opportunity of redressing the wrongs of my in? jured client," returned the good notary. " Yes," retorted Bintrey; your injured client is all very well-but-a word in your ear." He whispered to the notary, and walked off. When the notary's housekeeper came home, che found him standing at his door mo? tionless, with the key still ia his hand, and the door unopened. OBE.VBF.IZEB'S VTCTOB?. The scene ehifts again-to the foot of the Simpl?n, on the Swiss side. In oue of the dreary rooms of the dreary lit? tle inn at Briog, Slr. Bintrey and aiaitre Voigt aat together at a professional council of two. Mr. Bmfrey was seatebmg in his dispatch box. Ma?tre Voigt was looking toward a closed door, painted brown to imitate mahogany, and communicating wit n an inner room. " ls n't it time he was here ?" asked the no? tary, shifting his position, and glancing at a second door at the other end of the room, painted yellow to imitate deal : "He is here," answered Bintrey, after listen? ing for a moment. Tho yellow door was opened by a waiter, and Obenreizer walked in. After greeting Ma?tre Voigt with a cordiality which appeared to cause the notary no little em? barrassment, Obenreizer bowed with grave and distant politeness to Bintrey. "Fo.* what rea? son have I been brought from Neucuatel to the foot of the mountain ? ' he inquired, taking the seat which the English lawyer had indicated to him. " Yon shall bo quite satisfied on that head be? fore our interview is over," returned Bintrpy. "For the present permit me to suggest proceed? ing at once to business. There has been a cor? respondence, Mr. Obenreizer, between you and your niece. I am here to represent j oar niece." "In other words, yon, a lawyer, are bore to ?CDrcsent au infraction of the law." " Admirably put 1" said Bintrey. " If all the people I have to deal with were only like you, what an easy profession mine would bo ! I am here to represent an infraction of the law-that is your point of view. I am here to moke a com? promise between yon and your niece-that is my point of view." i "There must be two parties to a compromiso." rejoined Obenreizer. " I decline, in this case, to be one of them. The law gives me authority to control my niece's actions, until she comes of age. She is not yet of age ; and I claim my authority." At this point Ma?tre Voigt attempted to speak. Bintrey silenced him with a compassion? ate indulgence of tono and manner, as if ho was silencing a favorite child. " No, mv worthy friend, not a word. Don't excite yourself unnecessarily; leave it to nie." He turned, and addressed himself again to Oben? reizer. I can think of nothing comparable to yon, Mr. Obenreizer, but granite-and even that wears out in courso of time. In the interests of peace and quietness-for the sake of your own dignity-relax a little. If you will only delegate your authority to another person whom I know of, that person may be trusted never to lose eight of your niece, night or day !" "You are wasting your time and mine," re? turned Obenreizer. " If mv niece is not ren? dered up to my authority within ono wee i from this day, I invoke th;- law. If you resist the law, I take her by force." He rose to his feet aj he said the last word. Hoitre Voigt looked roundjagain toward the biown door which led into the inner room. "Have some pity on the poor giri," pleaded Bini ( v. "Remember bow lately she lost her lover by a dreadful death! Will nothing n you?" "Nothing." BintrT, in his turn, rope to his Feet? and loc at Ma?tre Voigt? Ma?tre Voigt s hand, rest: n, the table, began to tremble. Mai tra Voigt' s < remained fited as if by irresistible fascin?t on the brown door. Obenreizer, auspicio observing him, looked that way too. "There is somebody listening in there !" ht claimed, with a sharp backward glance at. J trey. "There are two people listening," answe Bin trey. "Who are they?" " Yon shall see." With that answer he raised his voice and sp the next words-the two common words wi are on everybody's Ups, at every hour of day-"Come in!" The brown door opened. Supported on I Marguerite's arm-his sunburnt color gor e, right arm bandaged, and thrown over his br? -Vendale stood before the murderer, lt i risen from the dead. In the moment of silence that followed, singing of a caged bird in the courtyard oub was the one sound stirring in the room. Ma Voigt touched Bintrey, and pointed to Ot reizer. "Look at him 1" said the notary, ii whisper. ? The sbock had paralyzed every movement the villain's body, but the movement of blood. His face was like the face of a cor; The one vestige of color left m it was a ii purple streak which marked the course of scar, where his victim had wounded him on cheek and neck. Speechless, breathless, i tionless, alike in eve and hmo, it seemed ac St the eight of Vendale, the death to which bad doomed Vendale; bad struck him where Btood. "Somebody ought to speak to him," s Martre Voigt. "Shall I?" Even at that moment Bintrey persisted silencing the notary and in keeping the lead the proceedings to himself. Checking Mai Voigt by a gesture, he dismissed Margmu and Vendale in these words: "The object your appearance here is answered," bo ca "If you will withdraw for the present it a help Mr. Obenreizer to recover himself.'1 It did help him. As the two passed throu the door and closed it behind them he dren deep breath of relief. He looked round him : the chair from which he had risen and dropt. into it. "Give him time,"pleaded Maitre Voigt. " No," said Bintrey. *. I don't know what t he may make of it if I do." He turned or more to Obenroizer and went on. " I owe i ; myself," he said-" I don't admit, mind, tba owe it to you-to account for my appearance thess proceedings, and to state what has be done under my advice and on my sole respon bili ty. Can yon listen to me?" " I can listen to yon." * Recall the time when von started for S wi' z< land with Mr. Vendale," Bintrey began. " Y had not left England four-aud-t wen ty hourn t fore your niece committed an act of impruden which not even your penetration could forest She followed her promised husband on his jon ney without asking anybody's advice or p< mission, and without any botter companion protect her than a cellarman in Mr. vendait employment." "Why did she follow me on the Journey ? ai how came the cellarman to be the person wi accompanied her ?" She followed you on the journey," answer? Bintrey, "because she suspected there had set some serions collision between you and Mr. Ve: dale which had been kept secret from her, an i b cause she rightly believed you to be capable serving your interests or of satisfying your on mi at the price ot a crime. As for the Celiennai ho wu one. among the other people in Mr. Yet dale's establishment, to whom she had applie (the moment your back was turned) to know anything had happened between their mi.sti and yon. The Celieman alone had aomothin to tell her. A senseless superstition, ard a son mon accident which had happened to his miste in bis master's cellar, had connected Mr. Vet dale in thia man's mind with the idea of dange by murder. Your niece surprised him into confession which aggravated tenfold the terror that possessed her. Aroused to a sente ot th mischief he had done, the man, of his own at cord, made the one atonement in his powor. ' ] my master is in danger, miss,' he said, 1 it'^ m duty to follow him, too; and it's more than m duty to take care of yon. The two set fort together, and. for once, a superstition bas ha. its uso. It decided your niece on taking tn journey; and it led the way to saving a man' hie. l)o you understand mo, so far '/" " I understand you. so far." "My first knowledge of the crime that yon hai committed,'' pursued Bintrey, "came to me ii the form of a letter from your neice. All yoi peed know is that her love and her courage re covered the body of your victim, and aided th? after efforts which brought him back to life While he lay helpless at Brieg, under her care she wrote to me to come out to him. Befon starting I informed Madame Dor that '. knew M?83 Obenreizer to be safe, and knev where she was. Madame Dor inform?e me, in return, that a letter had come for youl niece, which she knew to be in your hand writing. I took possession of it, and arranger for the forwarding of any other letters whicl might follow. Arrived at Brieg, I found Mr Vendale out of danger, and at once devoted my self to hastening the day of reckoning with you Defresnier and Company turned you off on sus? picion, acting on information tprivatelvnanpliec by me. {Ilaving stripped you of your raise char acter, the next thing to do was to strip you o: Sour authority over your niece. To read ais end I not only had no scruple in digging the pitfall under your feel in the dark-I felt a certain professionai pleasure in fighting you with your own weap? ons. By my advice too truth has been carefuhv conoealed from you. up to this day/ By my ad? vice, the trap into which you have walked was Bet for you (you know why, now, as well as I do) in this place. There was but one certain wav ol shaking the devilish self-control which has hitherto mad? you a formidable man. That way has been tried, and (look at me as you may) that way has .succeeded. The last thing that re? mains to be done," concluded Bintrey, produc? ing two little slips of manuscript from hts dis? patch box, " is to set your niece free. You have attempted murder, and you have committed forgery and theft. We have the evidence ready against you in both cases. If you are convicted as a felon, you know as well as I do what be? comes of your authority over your neice. Per? sonally, I should have preferred taking that wav ont of it. Bat considerations are pressed on me which I am not able to resist, and this inter? view must end, as I have told you already, in a compromise. Sign those lines, resigning all au? thority over Miss Ubenreizer.and pledging your? self never to be seen in England or in Switzer? land again ; and I will sign an indemnity which secures you against further proceedings on our part. Obenreizer took the pen in silence, and signed his niece's release. On receiving the indemnity in return, he rose, but made no movement to leave the room. He stood looking at Maitre Voigt with a strange smile gathering at bis lips, and a strange light Hashing m his li mi y eyes. "What are vou walting for '! ' asked Bintrey. ObenreLser pointed to the brown door. "Call them hack," he auswered. " 1 have aomething to sav m their presence before I go." "Say it in my presence," retorted Bintrey. " I decline to cali them back." Obenreizer turned to Maitre Voigt. "'Do vou remembor telling me that you once had an Enirlu'h client named V?ndala ?" ?'{, ji?k*d. ? *' Well," answered the notary. " And what of that?" "Maitfe Voigt, yonr clock-lock has. betrayed yon." . . , " What do yon mean ?" " I have read letters and certificates in your client's box. I have taken copies of them. I have got the copias hore. Is there, or is there not, a reason for calling them back ?" For a moment the notary looked to and fro, between Obenreizer and Bintrey, io helpless as? tonishment. Recovering himself, he drew his brother lawyer aside, and hurriedly spoke a few words close at hts ear. The face of Bintrey after first faithfully reflecting the astonishment on the face of Maitre Voigt-suddenly altered its expression; He sprang, with the activity of a young man, to the door of the inner room, en? tered it, remained inside for a minute, and re? turned, followed by Marguerite and Vendale. "Now, Mr. Obenreizer," said Bintrey, "tho last move m tue game is yours. Flay ic 1 'Before I resign my position as that young lady's guardian," said Obenreizer, "I have a secret to reveal in which she is interested. In making my disclosure, I am not claiming her attention for a narrative which she, or any other person present ie expected to take on trust. I am possessed of written proofs, copies of origi? nals, the authenticity of which Maitre Voigt himself can attest. Bear that in mind, and per? mit me to refer you, a? starting, to a date long past-the month of February, m the year 1836." "Markt be date, Mr. Vendale," said Bintrey. "My first proof,"eaid Obenreizer, taking a paper from hie pocketbook. " Copy of a letter, written by an English lady (married) to her sis? ter, a widow. The name of the person writing the letter I shall keep suppressed until I have done. The name of the person to whom the letter ig written I am willing to reveal. It is addressed to Mrs. Jane Ann Miller of Groom? bridge Wella, England." Vendale started, and opened his lips to speak. Bintry instantly stopped him, as be had stopped Maitre Voigt. "No,1 said tao pertinacious law? yer. " Leave it to me." Obenreizer went on: " lt is needless to trouble you with the first half of the letter," he said. "I can give the sub? stance of it in two words. The writer's position at the time is tn a. She bas been long nving in Switzerland with her husband-obliged to live tbere for thc sake of her husband's health. They are about to move to a new residence on the Lake of Neuchatol m a week, and they will be ready to receive Mrs. Miller as visitor in a fortnight from that time. This said, the writer next enters into an important domestic detail. She has been childless for years -she and ber husband have now no hope of children ; they are lonely ; they want an in? terest in life ; they have decided on adopting a child. Here the important part of the letter begins ; and, therefore, I read it to you word for word." He folded back the first page of the letter and read ats follows : " . . . . Will you help ns, my dear sister, to re? alize our new project ? AB English people, we wish to adopt ai English child. Thia may be done, I believe, at the I candling; ray husband's lawyers in London will tell you how. I leave the choice to yon, with only these conditions attached to it-that the child ls to be sn Infant under a year old, and is to be a boy. Will yon pardon the trouble I sm giving you, for my sake ; and will you bring our adopted child to na, with your own children, when yon oastae to Keuchatil? " I m ut add a word ss to my husband's wishes in this matter. He in resolved to spare the child whom we mass our own, any roture mortification and loss of self-respect which might be caused by a discovery of his true origin. Hs will bear my husband's nsme, snd hs will be brought up in the bellet that he is really oar son. His inheritance of what we have to leave will be secured to him-not only according t the laws of England in such cases, but according to the lavs of Switzerland also; for we have lived so long in thia country, that there is a donbt whether we may not be considered as 1 domiciled ' in Switzer? land. The one precaution left to take is to prevent any after discovery at the Foundling. Now, om* name ls a very uncommon one; and ii we appear on the register of the institution, as the per? sons adopting? the child, there is just a chance that something might result from it. Tour nsme, my dear, is the name of thousands other people; and ir you will consent to appear on the register, there need be no fear of any discoveries In that quarter. We are mov? ing, by the doctor's orders, to a part of Switzerland in which our circumstances are quite unknown; and you, ss I understand, are about to engage a new nurse for the Journey when you como to see us. Under these circumstances, the child may appear as my child, brought back to me under my sister's care. The only servant we take with na from our old home ls my own m dd, who can be safely trusted. As for the law? yers in England and in Switzerland, it is their pro? fession to keep secrets, and we may feel quite ?asy in that direction. So there yon have our harmless httlo conspiracy I Write by return of post, my love, and tell me you will Join it" " Do you etdl conceal tho name of the writer of that letter ?" asked Vendale, v " I keep the name of the writer till the last," answered Obenreizer, "and I proceed to my second proof-a mere slip of paper this time, as you see. Memorandum given to the Swiss law? yer, who drew tbe documents referred to in the letter I have just read, expressed as follows: "Adopted from the Foundling Hospital of En? gland, 3d March. 11836", a malo infant, called in the institution Walter Wilding. Person appearing on tho register as adopting the child, Mrs. Jane Ann Miller, widow, actiag m this matter for hor married sister, domiciled in Switzerland.' Pa? tience I" resumed Obenre izer, as Vendale, break? ing loose from Bintrey, started to his feet. " I shall not keep the name concealed much longer. Two more little slips of paper and I have done. Third proof I Certificate of Dr. Ganz, s till bring in practice at Nouchatel, dated July, 18S3. The doctor certifies (you shall read it for yourselves directly) first, that he atttended the adopted child in ito infant maladie?; second, that, toree months before the date of the certificate, the gentleman adopting the child as his son died ; third, that on the date of the certificate, his widow and ber maid, taking' the adopted child with them, left Neuchatel on their return to England. One more link now added to this, and my chain of evidence is complete. The maid remained with her mistress till her mistress' death, only a few years since. The maid can swear to the iden? tity of the adopted infant, from bia childhood to his ye nth-from his youth to bis manhood, as be is sow. There is ber address in England and there, Mr. Vend?lo, is the fourth and final proof !" " Why do you address yourself to me ?" said Yen dide, as Obenreizer threw tho written ad? dress on the table, Obenreizer turnea on brim, in a sudden frenzy of triumph. " Because you aro the man ! if my niece mar? ries you, she marries a bastard, brought up by public cbaritv. If my niece marries you, she marries an impostor, without name or lineage, disguised in the character of a gentleman of rauk and family." "BravoI" cried Bintrey. "Admirably put, Mr. Obenreizer. It only wanta ono word more to complete it, Sho marries-thanks entirely to your exertions-a man who inherits a handsome fortune, and a man whose origin will make him prouder than ever oe bia peasant wife. George Vendale, as brother executors, let us congratu? late each other! Our dear dead friend's last wish ou earth is accomplished. We have found the lost Walter Wilding. As Mr. Obenreizer said juBt now-you are the mau I * " Tho words paased bv Vendale unheeded. For the moment he was conscious of but one sensa? tion; he heard but one voice. Marguerite's band was clasping his. Marguerite s voice waa Whis? pering to him : "I never loved you, Georgo, as I love you now !" THE OkTBTAQI FALLS. May Day. There is merry-making in Cripple Corner, the chimneys smoke, the patriarchal dininc-hall is hung with garlands, and Mi's. Goldstraw, the respected housekeeper, is very busy. For, on this bright morning, the young master of Cripple Corner is married to its young mistress, far away-to wit, in tho little town of Brieg, io Switzerland, lying at the foot of tho Simpl?n Pass, where she saved his life? The bells ring fay ly in the little town of Brieg, and flags are stretched across the street, andr. Je shots aro beard, and sounding music from brass instruments. Streamer-decorated casks of wm? have been rolled out under a gay awn,ng in th? public way beiore the inn, and there wiH be trot feasting' and revelry. What with bells and ban? ners-, draperies hanging from windows, explosion of gunpowder, and reverberation of brass music-, tbe little town of Brieg is all in a flutter, like tho heads of its simple people. lt was a stormy night last night, and the mountains are covered with snow. But the sun is bright to-day, the sweet air is fresh, the tin spires of the halo town of Brieg are bur? nished, silverband tho Alps are ranges of far-off white clouds in a deep blue sky. The primitive people of the little town of Brieg have built a greenwood arch across tho street, under which the new married pan: shad pass in triumph from the church. It is inscribed on that side. "Honor and Love to Marguerite V?n? dalo I" for the people are proud of her to onthr? eiasm. This greeting of the bride under her new name is affectionately meant as a surprise, and therefore the arrangement has been made that she, unconscious why, shall bo taken to tho church by a tortuous back way. A scheme not difficult to carry into execution in the crooked little town of Brieg. So, all things are in readiness, and they aro to go and come on foot. Assembled in the inn's best chamber, festively adorned, jjo the bride and bridegroom, the Nouchatel '.notary, tho London lawyer, Madame Dor, and a certain large mysterious Englishman, popularly known as AloneieuriKhoo-Ladelle. And behold Madama Dor, arrayed in a spotless pair of gloves of her own, with no hand in the air, but both hands clasped round the neck of the bride, to em? brace whom Madame Dor has turned her broad back on the company, consistent to the last. "Forgive me, my beautiful," pleads Madame? Dor, " for that I was his she-cat !" " She-cat, Madame Dor?" "Engaged to sit watching my so charming mouse," are the explanatory words of Madame Dor, delivered with a penitential sob. "Why, you were our best lriends! George, dearest, tell Madame Dor. Was she not our best friend ?" "Undoubtedly, darling. What should we have done without her." " You are both so generous," cries Madame Dor, accepting consolation, ana immediately re? lapsing. '1 But I commenced aa a she-oat." "Ah! But like the cat in the fairy story, good Madame Dor," says Vendale, saluting bet cheek, " you wore a true woman. And, bemg e true woman, the sympathy of your heart wai wita true love." "I don't wish to deprive Madame Dor of hei share in the embraces that are going on," Mr. Bintrey puta in, watch m band, "and I dont pr O? unie to offer any objection to your having got yourselves mixed together, in the corner there, like the three Graces. I merely remark that J think it is time we were moving. What are your sentiments cn that subject, Mr. Ladle?" . "Clear, sir," replied Joey, with a jrr&cious grin. " I'm, dearer altogether, sir, for having lived so many weeks upon the surface. I never was half so long upon the surface afore, and it's done me a power of good. At Cripple Corner, 1 was too much below it. Atop of the Simpleton, I was a deal too high above it. I've found the medium hera; sir. And if ever I take it in con vivi al in all the rest of my days, I mean to dui*, this day, to the toast of ' Bless 'em both.' " ? " I, too !" says Bunroy. " And now, Monsieui VoigU let you and me be two men of Marseilles, eJonti, marchons, arm in arm." . Tuoy go down to toe door, where others ari waiting for them, and they go quietly to th? church, and the nappy marriage takes place. While the ceremony is yet in progress, the no? tary is called out. When it is finished, he has returned, is standing behind Vendale, and touches him on the shoulder. " Go to the sido door, one moment, Monsieur Vendale. Alono. Leave Madame to me." At the sido door of the church are tho same two men from the Hospice. They are snow eta-ned and travel-worn. They wish .dmjoy, and then each lays his broad hand up a \ en dale's breast, and one says in a low voici. while tho other steadfastly regard him : " It is here, Monsieur. Your hiter. Th a very same." "My litter is here? Why?" " Hush 1 For the sake of Madame. Your com panion of that day-" " What of him ?" The man looks at his comrade, and hil oom rade takes bim up. Each keeps his hand laid earnestly on Vendalo's breast. " Ho had boen living at the first Befuge, mon? sieur, for some days. The weather w .8 now good, now bad." *'Ycs ?" "Ho arrived at our Hospice the d+j before yesterday, and, having refreshed himself with sleep on floor before the Are. -.rapped in his cloak, was resolute to go on, bet?re dark, to the next Hospice. He had a ercat fear of that part of tho way, and thought it would be woree to? morrow."" "Yes P " He went on alone. Be had passed the Gal? lery, when au avalanche-like that which fell be? hind you near the Bridge of the Ganther-" " killed him ?" "We dug bim out suffocated and broken all to nieces. But, monsieur, as to madame. We have brought him here on tne litter to be buried. We must ascend the street outside. Madame must not see. It would be an accursed thing to bring the litter through the arch across tbe street until madame has passed through. As you de? scend, we who accompany the litter will set ii down on tbe stones or the street the second tc the right, and will stand before it. But do not let madame turn her head toward the street the second to the right. There is no time to loee^ Madame will be alarmed by your absence. ? Adieu 1" Vendale returns to his bride, and draws her hand through his unmaimed arm. A pretty procession awaits them at the main door of the church. They take their station in it, and de? scend the Btreet amid the ringing ot the bells, the firing cf tho gune, the waving of the flags, tho playing of tho music, the shouts, the smiles and tears of tho excited town. Heads are un? covered as shu passer, hands are kissed to her, all the people bless her. " Heaven's benedic? tion on the dear girl ! See where abo gocB in her vouth aud beauty; she who so nobly saved his lifo !" Near tho corner of tho street the second to the right, he speaks to hor, aud calls her atten? tion to the windows on the opposite side. The corner well passed, he eays: "Do not look rouuti, my darliug, for a reason that I have," aud turns his head. Then, looking back along the Btrtet. bc see the litter and its bearers pas? sing up alone under the arch, as he and she aud their marriage train go down toward tho shining valley. _ -Xo wonder the fair sex disliked Dr. Johnson, when ho said : "i'toplo dock to hear a woman preach, not because she preaches well, but be? cause she preachte auyhow; just as they go to ace a dog walk on his bind legs, though ho does not walk on them near so well as a man." -Sew rending (by a fashionable wif?)-the man who lays his baud upon a woman, without a large income, is a wretch wa jm it were gross flattery to call a bankrupt.