A Changed Heart - May Agnes Fleming

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at best, and the old man can afford to lose the money; but Charley's another story! That Cherrie, too! The fellow's a scoundrel, and she's a—! Oh, here she comes!"

      Sure enough, tripping along, her blue parasol up, her turban on, a little white lace vail down, a black silk mantle flapping in the breeze, a buff calico morning-wrapper, with a perfect hailstorm of white buttons all over it, sweeping the dust, came Miss Nettleby herself, arrayed as usual for conquest. The incessant smile, ever parting her rosy lips, greeted Val. Cherrie always kept a large assortment of different quality on hand for different gentlemen. Val greeted her and turned.

      "Where are you going, Cherrie?"

      "Down to Mrs. Marsh's. I've got a book of hers to return. How's Miss Jo?"

      "She's well. I'll walk with you, Cherrie; I have something to say to you."

      His tone was so serious that Cherrie stared.

      "Lord, Mr. Blake! what is it?"

      "Let us go down this street—it is quiet. Cherrie, does Captain Cavendish go to see you every evening in the week?"

      "Gracious me, Mr. Blake!" giggled Cherrie, "what a question!"

      "Answer it, Cherrie."

      "Now, Mr. Blake, I never! if you ain't the oddest man! I shan't tell you a thing about it!"

      "He was with you last night, was he not?"

      "It's none of your business!" said polite Cherrie; "he has as much right to be with me as any one else, I hope. You come yourself sometimes, for that matter."

      "Yes; but I don't make love to you, you know."

      "It wouldn't be any use for you if you did," said Miss Cherrie, bridling.

      "It's a different case altogether," said Val; "you and I are old friends—he is a stranger."

      "He's not! I've known him more than five weeks! If you only came to preach, Mr. Blake, I guess you had better go back, and I'll find Mrs. Marsh's alone."

      "Cherrie, I want to warn you—the less you have to do with Captain Cavendish the better. People are talking about you now."

      "Let 'em talk," retorted Miss Nettleby, loftily; "when Speckport stops talking the world will come to an end. I'll just do as I please, and talk to whom I like; and if everybody minded their own business, it would be better for some folks."

      With which the young lady swept away majestically, leaving Mr. Blake to turn back or follow if he pleased. He chose the former, and walked along to Dr. Leach's office. Charley was standing, looking out of the window, and whistling a tune.

      "Hallo, Val!" was his greeting, "what brings you here? Want a tooth pulled, or a little bleeding, or a trifle of physic of any kind? Happy to serve you in the absence of the doctor."

      "No, I don't want any physic, but I have come to give you a dose. Are you alone?"

      "Quite. Leach went to visit a patient ten minutes ago. What's the matter?"

      "Everything's the matter! What's this I hear you have been about lately?"

      "Turning actor—do you mean that? Much obliged to you, Val, for the puff you gave me in yesterday's Spouter."

      "No, sir, I don't mean that! Isn't Alick McGregor a nice fellow to rob his own father and you his aider and abettor? Fine doings that!"

      Charley fairly bounded.

      "Oh, the d——! Where did you find that out?"

      "Never mind, I have found it out; that is enough!"

      "Is it known? Who else knows it?"

      "Two that are not quite so safe to keep it as I am! No, I won't tell you who they are. Charley, what are you coming to?"

      "The gallows, I suppose; but I had no hand in that. If McGregor took the money, it was his own doings, and his father could spare it."

      "What did he want of it?"

      "Am I his keeper? How should I know?"

      "You do know! When did you turn gambler, Charley?"

      Charley turned round, his face white.

      "You know that, too?"

      "I do! McGregor stole the hundred pounds to pay a gambling-debt to Captain Cavendish. And you—where does your money come from, Marsh?"

      "I don't steal it," said Charley, turning from pale to red; "be sure of that!"

      "Come, my boy, don't be angry. You know I don't deserve that speech; but surely, Charley, this sort of thing should not go on. Where will it end?"

      "Where, indeed?" said Charley, gloomily. "Val, I wish you would tell me how you found this out?"

      "Pshaw! do you really expect to go in and out of the most notorious gambling-house in Speckport, at all hours of the day and night, and it not be discovered? You ought to know this place better."

      "That is true; but how did that infernal business of McGregor's leak out? No one knew it but ourselves."

      "It has leaked out, and is known to two persons, who may blow on you all at any moment."

      "And I wanted to keep it from Natty. Val, old fellow, do tell me who they are."

      "You know I won't; it would do no good. Charley, I wish you would stop in time."

      "Stuff! it's no hanging matter after all. Dozens go there as well as I!"

      "You won't give it up, then?"

      "Not until I win back what I have lost. My coffers are not so full that I can lose without trying to win it back. Don't talk to me, Blake, it's of no use; win I must, there is no alternative. Won't Alick go into white horror when he finds the murder's out?"

      Val turned to leave.

      "You're going, are you?" said Charley. "I need hardly tell you to keep dark about this; it will only mar, not mend matters, to let it get wind. Don't look so solemn, old boy, all's not lost that's in danger."

      Val said nothing—what was the use? He passed out and went home to his domain.

      "I knew how it would be," he said to himself, going along; "but I have done my duty, and that's satisfactory. I'll keep my eye on you, Captain Cavendish, and if ever I get a chance, won't I play you a good turn for this!"

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      "And if ever I find her going prancing round with him any more," said Lady Leroy, clawing the air viciously with her skinny fingers, "or letting him come home with her again, I'll turn her out of doors, I will, as sure as your name's Midge."

      "Which it isn't," said Midge; "for I was christened Prisciller. And as for turning her out, you know right well, ma'am, you can never get along without her, so where's the good of your gabbing."

      The dialogue between mistress and maid took place, of course, in the former's room, which she rarely left. Midge was preparing her ladyship's dinner, all the cooking being done in the chamber, and all the edibles being kept under lock and key, and doled out in ounces. Midge and Lady Leroy fought regular pitched battles every day over the stinted allowance awarded her; and Natty had to come to the rescue by purchasing, from her own private purse, the wherewithal to satisfy Midge. No other servant would have lived at Redmon on the penurious wages the old lady grumblingly gave, probably on no wages at all, considering the loneliness of the place, its crabbed and miserly mistress, and hard work; but

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