warn you to take care and not encourage
your husband in this pursuit. There is no
harm done as yet, and be content with
your little spoils." This may seem a little
too indulgent, too complacent, to the evil
practice, against which I have sworn war
to the knife, to the death, and from which,
with the blessing of Heaven, I shall rescue
many. But such a foe it is pardonable to
meet with craft like his own.

He had come back, but I saw she had
grown thoughtful. It was something to
do a little bit of good, even in this cheap
way. I see them at night, hovering about
the yawning entrance to the cave, she, with
a little hesitation, whispering him earnestly,
and looking in with trepidation. They do
not see me. They walk away, but, alas,
come back, and enter.

CHAPTER VI.

TUESDAY.—But I must leave these minor
things quite out of sight, to come to the
strangest thing that has happened, the
most mysterious and inconceivable. Who
could have dreamt of it? And yet I am
not sorry. Dora, dear, prepared for something
dramatic! Let me begin calmly. Last
night, after the young pair had gone in, I
was sitting under the long glass colonnade
of the terrace, looking down on the crowd in
those gardens, lit up by the twinkling lamps,
and which have such a charm for me. Along
that colonnade are about a hundred little
tables, all crowded with eager and lively
people, sipping drinks, taking iced beer,
champagne, happy winners, and more
dismal losers. The waiters are flying up
and down, hurrying to and fro, shouting
orders; while below, among the green
trees and flowers, are the crowds seated,
and on the right the illuminated kiosque,
with the delicious Prussian band pouring
out their strains. "Ravishing" is but a poor
word for these accomplished musicians, who
belong to the Thirty-fourth Regiment, and
are led by the skilful " chapel- master,"
Parlow. Their vast strength and breath
of sound, their rich instruments, with
every instrument made the most of, their
exquisite taste, volume, clearness, distinctness,
and mastery of the most difficult
passages, makes their performance
almost entrancing. Hear them play three
overtures—William Tell, Tännhauser, and
Oberon—and the musician will be amazed
as well as enraptured, the marvellous violin
passages of the last being performed like
so much child's play—just as an accomplished
pianoforte player runs up and
down the keys. Hear them, too, in some
fantasia on airs from L'Africaine or Faust,
and revel in the taste and feeling of the
solo, and the dramatic bursts and crashes,
and the "hurrying" and lingering of the
time, as though they were an opera
orchestra. When we think of our creatures—
those groups of hodmen and mechanics
who form what is by courtesy
termed " a military band," those mere
grinders and sawyers of music, who play
as though they would dig or hammer—
when we think, I say, of our " crack" regiments,
our Guards, formed out of the very
pink of professionals, and see how mediocre
is the result, one must feel a little humiliation
and some envy, and should be glad to
come this distance to hear those Prussians.
I can hear them, too, with a safe conscience,
for they do not belong to the
administration.

But I am putting off this wonderful
surprise. I am sitting there, listening,
close, also, to the mouth of the cave, which
has still for me that sense of mystery, when
I hear some angry voices, and two men are
coming down the steps in excitement.
One is tall, and in a white Panama hat,
and very excited. I hear him say, " It is
always the way when I listen to your
infernal talk. I'd have had a hundred
in my hand now but for you. I'd like to
pitch you down these steps, on your face!
Go—leave me alone!"

The voice seemed familiar to me, so cold
and grating, with all its excitement, that I
seemed to recal it perfectly. Unconsciously
I started up to be quite certain, and, on
the noise, he turned and looked at me.
He knew me; I knew him. His face
turned livid, and a spasm of fury passed
over it.

"Grainger!"

"Austen!"

He advanced towards me, and for a
moment I thought he meant some violence.
But he suddenly checked himself, and then
walked away, down the terrace. Then, as
suddenly turned back and came up to me.

After a pause, " So," he went on, "you
are here. Did you know that I was here?"

"No, Grainger," I answered; " I did
not."

"What, no new scheme on hand? No,
I should say not; for you had better wait,
my friend, until you know whether the
old account has been closed."

"The only scheme I have," I answered,
"is to get back some health, which is
nearly gone from me."

"Ay. But do you know all that has
gone from me—all that you took from me?