Ellsworth American. [volume] (Ellsworth, Me.) 1855-current, 1866-08-31


not joined them in theirwOrst excesses-he
was only idle and fond of plcasure--a moth
futterng around the flames. Now he has
scorched his wings. He has not spent mere
than three or four nights as he spent this
the pc son you saw him with to might. Bag
ley Is one of the vampires who fatten on
the characters and purses of young men
like James Argyll
"Then ought we not to make some earn
est effort to save James before it is too
late Oh, Mr.. Burton. YOU are wise and
eXperenced-te me what to do"
why do you feel so much interest in
him !! You do not like him.
Il could not see the mercst stranger 60
down toward destruction without stretch
ing forth my hand. There is no great
friendship between us, it is true but Jas
is nearly connected with the happiness and
reputation of the family honor most Oh
earth. For its sake, would make the ut,
mo, endcavOr.'
".'or the interests of justice, then, it is
well that am not related to the Argylls
by the personal ties Which effect you.
will tell you one thing-James does not
gamble so much from weakness of will to
resist temptation, as he does to forget for
IA time. under the influence of the facina-
ting excitement, an anxiety which he car
ries about with him.
"1Ou're a close observer, Mr.. Burton.
James has, indeed, been deeply troabled
lately. have noticed the change in him
in his appetite, complexion, manners, i'll
thousand tritles-a change which grows
upon him daily. He is gnawed upon by
secret doubts--now raised by hopes, now
depressed by fears, until he is fitful and
uncertain as II light carried in an autumn
wind. But can tell You that he is all
wrong in indulging this vain hope, which
creates the doubt. l know what it is. and
how utterly without foundatioH. 1t is weak
which ough: on y TO enoble him and teach
him self-control, to chase him to such ruin
us | saw him Tonight"
That is yomr way of viewing the mat
ter, Mr.. Redtleld. We all see things ac-
cording to the color of the spcctaclcs We
wear. Then YOU think it is a growing Ger
tainty that Miss Argyll even under her
present relief from past VOWS. will never
lavor his suit, nor that of any man. which
is driving her cousin to these reckless hab-
its =
| was half offended with him for men
tloniny her name in that manner; but
knew that nine was an extreme, il not
morbid sensitiveness, where she was con-
cerned, and swallowed my resentment,
answering:
Il fear it IS"
That may explain his disquiet to you
-sa be it,
sill Mr. Burton was keeping something
back from me-always keeping something
back. | did not feel at ali sleepy. | was
full of eager thought. reviewed with a
| lightning glance, all lie had ever sad-all
james had recently done or said-and,
swear, had it not been for the almost ailiec-
tomato kindness Of his general manner to
ne, and my belief in his candor, which
would not allow him to play the part OF Il
friend while acting the part of an enemy.
shouli have thought that Mr.. Burton sus-
pectcd me of that APPALLING crime which /
was so busly seeking to Tx npon the head
Of a frai, frightened woman Again the
idea, and not for the first time, crept thro
and through my veins. chilling Inc from
head to foot. looked him full in the eve.
| If he haul such thought, would pluck it
out from behind that curtain of deception,
and make him acknowledge it. If he had
such th0u.ht, James had introduced it
to his mind. lincW that James had had
SOME interviews with him, of which | was
only eognzant by casual observations drop
ped hy my host, How many more such
conclaycs they may have held WAS left to
my imagination to conjecture. What was
this man before me playing this double
part for IA friend to each. but never to
both together. The reader may smile,
and answer that it is the Very calling and
existence of il detective to play double
part; and that ought not to be chargrin-
cl to find Inn exercising his fine talents
upon me. Perhaps James also had rea-
son to fancy himself this mans coniiaant
aud friend. who was playing us, one against
the other, for purposes of his own. 1t was
the thought that Mr. Burton, before whom
more than any other person III this world,
except my mother, had been willcd to
lay open my soul, could suspect me OF any
hidden part in that dark tragedy, which
chilled me to the marrow.
But no 1T was impossible. ! saw II
now i'll the frank and smiling eyes which
met my searching and lengthy gaze.
"Thcrc." he cried, gayly. "there is a
ray of actual sunrise. The fire is out the
room is chlly-thc morning has come up
on us. v have sat ont the night, Rich
ard Let me show you to your room; we
will not breakfast until nine O'Clock, and
You can catch IL couple of hours rcposc III
the mean time" He took up lamp and
we asccndcd the stairs. Here is youI
chamber. Now, remember, bid you
slcep, and let Il at clock in your brain run
down. 1t is IA bad thing for the young tu
thiik too deeply. Good-moruing.'
He passed on, us closed the door of my
chamber. His tone had been that OF an
elder friend, speaking to young man
whom he loved; | had wrongcd him by
that unpleasant idea which had shivercd
through me.
Closed shutters and thick curtains kept
out the broadening light OF dawn; yet |
found it difficult to compose myself Ia
sleep. That haunting shadow which had
fitted from Hcnyy's grave as approached
it yesterday dream which had in the
little chamber, awakening 70 the reality OF
the sewing girls eScapc-l could net ban
ish these any more than | could the dis
covery made in that house OF sin, where
the hloated spider OF Play weavcs his gilt
tcring net and sits on The watch for the
gay and brilliant victiMs who tlutter into
Ilts meshcs.
One feeling had connected with that
discovery which | had not betrayed to MIR.
Burtun-which | could not fairly acknowl-
edge to my own soul-which.l quarrelled
With-uroVp out--but which persisted i'm