drakes of your money in your own way. That old Pomposity has left his damned Prospectus here on the table."

Mrs. Charlton passed out and down-stairs. On a slab in the hall was a bouquet which a neighboring greenhouse man she had befriended had just left. She stooped to smell of it. What was there in the odors which brought back associations that made her bow her head while the tears gushed forth? Conspicuous among the flowers was a bunch of English violets, just such a little bunch as Frederick Ireton used to bring her in those far-off days, when the present and the future seemed so flooded with rose-hues.

-

"Miss Lucy wants to know if you 're ever coming?" said a

servant.

"Yes!" replied Mrs. Charlton. ""T is too bad to keep her waiting so!" And the next moment she joined her daughter in the carriage.

Meanwhile Charlton, as his wife left him, had groaned out, in soliloquy, "What a devil of a woman! How different from my first wife!" Then he sought consolation in the quotations of stock. While he read and chuckled, there was a knock. It was only Pompilard returned for his Prospectus. As the old man was folding it up, the white-gloved footman laid a card before Charlton. "Vance!" exclaimed the latter: "I'm acquainted with no such person. Show him up."

Vance had donned his citizen's dress. He wore a blue frock, fastened by a single black silk button at the top, a buff vest, white pantaloons, and summer shoes. Without a shoulder-strap, he looked at once the soldier and the gentleman. Rapidly and keenly he took Charlton's physiognomical measure, then glanced at Pompilard. The latter having folded up his Prospectus, was turning to quit the room. As he bowed on departing, Charlton remarked, "Good day to you, Mr. Pompilard."

"Did I hear the name Pompilard?" inquired Vance.
"That is my name, sir,” replied the old man.
"Is it he whose wife was a Miss Aylesford?"

"The same, sir."

"Mr. Pompilard, I have been trying to find you. My carriage is at the door. Will you do me the favor to wait in it five minutes for me till I come down?"

Certainly, sir." And Pompilard went out.

"Now, Mr. Charlton," said Vance, "what I have to say is, that I am called Colonel Vance; that I am recently from New Orleans; that while there it became a part of my official duty to look at certain property held in your name, but claimed by another party."

“Claimed by a rebel and a traitor, Colonel Vance. I'm delighted to see you, sir. Will you be seated?" "No, thank you. Let me propose to you, that, as preliminary to other proceedings, I introduce to you to-night certain parties who came with me from New Orleans, and whose testimony may be at once interesting and useful."

"I shall be obliged to you for the interview, Colonel Vance." "It would be proper that your confidential lawyer should be present; for it may be well to cross-question some of the witnesses."

"Thank you for the suggestion, Colonel Vance. I shall avail myself of it."

"As there will be ladies in the party, I hope your wife and daughter will be present."

"I will give them your message."

"Tell them we have a young officer with us who was shot through the lungs in battle not long since. Shall we make the hour half-past eight;-place, the Astor House?"

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"That would suit me precisely, Colonel Vance." "Then I will bid you good day, sir, for the present.' Charlton put out his hand, but Vance bowed without seeming to notice it, and passed out of the house into the carriage. "Mr. Pompilard," said he, as the carriage moved on, are you willing to take me on trust, say for the next hour, as a gentleman, and comply with my reasonable requests without compelling me to explain myself further? Call me, if you please, Mr. Vance."

"Truly, Mr. Vance," replied Pompilard, "I do not see how I risk much in acceding to your proposition. If you were an impostor, you would hardly think of fleecing me, for I am shorn close already. Besides, you carry the right signet on your front. Yes, I will trust you, Mr. Vance.”

"Thank you, sir. Your wife is living?"

"I left her alive and well some two hours ago." "Has she any children of her own?"

"One, a daughter, Antoinette. We call her Netty. A most extraordinary creature! An artist, sir! Paints seapieces better than Lane, Bradford, or Church himself. A girl of decided genius."

Well, Mr. Pompilard, if your house is not far from here, I wish to drive to it at once, and have your wife and daughter do us the honor to take seats in this carriage.”

"That we can do, Mr. Vance. Driver, 27 Lavinia Street! The day is pleasant. They will enjoy a drive. I must make you acquainted with my son-in-law, Major Purling. A noble fellow, sir! Had an arm shot off at Fair Oaks. Used up, too, by fever. Brave as Julius Cæsar! And, like Julius Cæsar, writes as well as he fights. He proposes getting up a history of the war. Here's his Prospectus."

Vance looked at it. "I must n't be outdone," said he, "by a lady. Put me down also for thirty copies. Put down Mr. Winslow and Madame Volney each for as many more."

"But that is astounding, sir!" cried Pompilard. "A hundred and twenty copies disposed of already! The Major will jump out of his bed at the news!"

As the carriage crossed the Bowery and bowled into Lavinia Street, Pompilard remarked: “There are some advantages, Mr. Vance, in being on the East River side. We get a purer sea

air in summer, sir."

At that moment an unfortunate stench of decayed vegetables was blown in upon them, by way of comment, and Pompilard added: "You see, sir, we are very particular about removing all noxious rubbish. Health, sir, is our first consideration. We have the dirt-carts busy all the time.”

Here the carriage stopped. "A modest little place we have taken for the summer, Mr. Vance. Small, but convenient and retired. Most worthy and quiet people, our neighbors. Walk in, sir."

They entered the parlor. "Take a seat, Mr. Vance. If you've a taste for art, let me commend to your examination that fine engraving between the windows. Here's a new book, if you are literary, Miss Carrie Cameron's famous novel. Amuse yourself."

And having handed him "The Guerilla's Bride," Pompilard rushed up-stairs. Instantly a great tumult was heard in the room over Vance's head. It was accompanied with poundings, jumpings, and exultant shouts. Three hundred and sixty dollars had been placed on the coverlid beneath which lay the wounded Purling. It was the first money his literary efforts had ever brought him. The spell was broken. Thenceforth the thousands would pour in upon him in an uninterrupted flood. Can it be wondered that there was much jubilation over the news?

As

Vance was of course introduced to all the inmates, and made a partaker in their good spirits. At last Mrs. Pompilard and Netty were dressed and ready. Vance handed them into the carriage. He and Pompilard took the back seat. they drove off they encountered a crowd before an adjoining door. It was composed of some of those "most worthy and quiet neighbors" of whom Pompilard had recently spoken. They were gathering, amid a Babel of voices, round a cart where an ancient virago, Milesian by birth, was berating a butcher whom she charged with having sold her a stale leg of mutton the week before.

"One misses these bustling little scenes in the rural districts," quoth Pompilard. "They serve to give color and movement, life and sparkle, to our modest neighborhood."

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"Mrs. Pompilard," said Vance, we are on our way to the Astor House, where I propose to introduce to you a young lady. I wish you and your daughter to scrutinize her closely, and to tell me if you see in her a likeness to any one you have ever known."

CHAPTER XLV.

ANOTHER DESCENDANT OF THE CAVALIERS.

"Those flashes of marvellous light point to the existence of dormant faculties, which, unless God can be supposed to have over-furnished the soul for its appointed field of action, seem only to be awaiting more favorable circumstances, to awaken and disclose themselves."-John James Tayler.

W

HILE the carriage is rolling on, and the occupants are getting better acquainted, let us hurry forward and clear the way by a few explanations.

Vance and his party had now been several days in New York, occupying contiguous suites of rooms at the Astor House. The ladies consisted of Clara, Madam Volney, and Mrs. Ripper (late Mrs. Gentry). Esha was, of course, of the party. She had found her long-lost daughter in Hattie, or Mrs. Davy, now a widow, whose testimony came in to fortify the proofs that seemed accumulating to place Clara's identity beyond dispute. Hattie joyfully resumed her place as Clara's femme de chambre, though the post was also claimed by the unyielding Esha.

The gentlemen of the party included Mr. Winslow, Mr. Semmes, Mr. Ripper, Captain Onslow, Colonel Delancy Hyde, and a youth not yet introduced.

Never had Vance showed his influence in so marked a degree as in the change he had wrought in Hyde. Detecting in the rascal's affection for a widowed sister the one available spot in his character, Vance, like a great moral engineer, had mounted on that vantage-ground the guns which were to batter down the citadels of ignorance, profligacy, and pride, in which all the regenerative capabilities of Hyde's nature had been imprisoned so long. The idea of having that poor toiling sister - her who had "fust taught him to make dirt-pies, down thar by the old duck-pond”. - rescued with her children from poverty and suffering, placed in a situation of comfort and respectability, was so overpowering to the Colonel, that it