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The Charleston daily news. [volume] (Charleston, S.C.) 1865-1873, December 25, 1867, Christmas Extra, Image 12

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Persistent link: https://chroniclingamerica.loc.gov/lccn/sn84026994/1867-12-25/ed-1/seq-12/

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?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.

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