The two clerks, or, The orphan's gratitude :: :: University of Virginia Library

“Dick Martin, you are in a scrape,”
thought Richard, as he left the “assignation
house,” after recovery from the effects of a
blow which had prostrated him; a blow that
had been dealt by the hand of Ned Rifton,
and had rescued Mary from his clutches.

He walked across the Common, and took
his way to the store. It was ten o'clock,
and he had not been there before that morning.
Mr. Woodley greeted him rather harshly
as he entered. “Hang it,” thought Dick,
“should they find out, I should get small favor
in that quarter.” The day wore away,
and Richard was confined closely to the desk.
Many and confused were the thoughts of the
abandoned youth. He had been foiled in

his attempts on the mistress of his friend,
and he felt sore and revengful. He had recognised
the rescuer of the girl, and with the
thought of Ned Rifton, came the form of
Kate Willis to his mind. “I'll try the girl;
I'll be revenged on him. Ha, ha! Dick
Martin, Boston'll soon be too hot to hold
you. But, d—n it, when my jig's up,
hurra for the Gulf of Mexico!”

That night Dick visited Kate Willis. And
she was pleased, for Martin knew well whom
he dealt with, and his smile and his word
were winning.

There are moments in a woman's life,
when the scale of her destiny is poised. This
was Kate's. She had listened to the tempter,
for he promised her revenge. For what?
for Ned's coldness, which she herself had
caused. Yet to herself she would not own
it. Ned Rifton had deserted her—so Richard
assured her—he had spoken slightingly
of her to his friends; he had boasted of his
easy conquest. Richard lied not there, and
Kate vowed revenge.

“He never loved me.”

“Rifton in love, dear Kate? I know him
too well.” As Dick said this his arm was
round Kate's neck, and his lips close to her
warm cheek. Her heart beat fast— * * *

Richard left Kate Willis an hour after.
“You're a lucky dog, Dick Martin,” muttered
he to himself, “You were born under
Venus.”

As Dick passed from the house of Kate
Willis, a figure passed him which he recognised.
He turned, and followed it to the door
he had just quitted. It was Ned Rifton.
Dick heard him ascend the stairs that conducted
to her room.

Kate was seated upon the sofa, and rose
to meet her quondam lover.

He took her hand, and led her to a seat.
“Kate,” said he, “I once loved you; I imagined
it was returned, but I was deceived.”

“No, no! not deceived, not deceived, Edward!”
cried the guilty girl. She thought
of Richard Martin, and buried her face in
her hands.

“Martin can best tell that. Yes, you have
deceived me, Kate. I have come to bid you
farewell!”

“Edward, no!”

“But beware of that Martin. As I once
loved you, as I love you still, Kate, I warn
you. He is a scoundrel, whose crimes will
to-morrow be exposed.

“Edward, Edward! you will not leave
me. Martin is not what you suppose—he—
he loves me.”

Loves you, Kate? ha, ha! But tell me—
speak—he—” Ned could not finish the sentence.

Kate looked at him with a vacant air; she
seemed to wait for him to speak.

“He is a villain, Kate Willis; a villain of
the deepest die; he has tempted others to
crime, only to desert them; he has consigned
his friend to a prison, and attempted the honor
of that friend's wife—”

“This is not Richard.”

“It is true, by heaven! Kate, promise
me you will guard yourself against this man.
He will ruin you.”

“Oh, Edward Rifton, spurn me from you.
I am lost! I am fallen! I love him not.
But—but—” She sank insensible at the feet
of her astonished visiter.

Ned raised her from the floor. As he did
so, the door opened, and Richard Martin
entered. With an oath on his lip, Ned
sprang to his feet, and confronted the clerk.
“Villain!” came to his lips. “But you
have not long to run.”

Dick laughed. “Before to-morrow, may-hap,
you nor your d—d fool of a friend,
Johnson, will be able to track Dick Martin,
ha, ha! I heard your fine story, my dear
friend Ned.”

Ned rushed forward, and grasped the throat
of Dick.

“Unhand me, Ned Rifton, if you please.”

“You stir not from here, sir, but to prison;
your tune's up, my friend,” said Ned, compressing
the clerk's neck with the grasp of a
vice.

Dick quietly drew a pistol from his pocket,
and pointed it at the breast of Rifton.

“No, my dear Ned, you had much better
take care of `ma chere amie' on the floor
there,” said he, pointing to the still insensible
form of Kate Willis; “women of such
easy virtue”—Ned started and his hand dropped—“need
a protector against the `villain
Martin.' ”

“What mean you?”

“What I say---that Dick Martin found as

much favor with Kate as most husbands do
with their better halves, ha, ha, ha!”

And with a sweep of his arm, Dick sprang
to the door, and disappeared. Ned bent over
the reviving Kate, and she awoke; awoke
to her guilt. Truly, she was revenged; and
such is the revenge of the sex—their own
ruin!