University of Virginia Library

9. CHAPTER IX.

Mrs. Wharton drove home, and with
pleasure exhibited her restored teeth to her
delighted husband and brother Frank; but
without telling them they had been an hour
before in the head of a young girl. Percy
she knew would be displeased, while she
feared Frank's satire. So she kept her own
secret, and left upon their minds the hest impression
of Dr. —'s skill.

Frank soon after took his hat, stick, and
gloves, to go to the Gazette office to see if he
could hear any thing of his pocket-book which
he had dropped in returning from the six
o'clock New York boat, to which he had
been to see a party of friends off.

`You will scarcely recover it, Frank,' said
Percy as he was going out, `you deserve to
lose it for carrying so large a sum about you
daily. No gentleman, when he is at home,
should make a practice of keeping more than
twenty dollars in his pocket-book at a time.'

`I care more about the miniature on it for
which alone I bought it in Paris, fancying it
resembled a school girl I used to know. But
what makes it more valuable is that I have
within a day or two seen a charming creature
in a milliner's store in Walnut street, that is
the perfect resemblance of it. I wouldn't
have lost it for the value of the notes in it.'

`Have a care, Frank. These Philadelphia
grizettes are the most dangerous in the world.'

`She is perfectly lovely, Percy. A small
white hand, like a high bred girl, and an eye
and lip so eloquent with expression and purity
of soul, that—'

`You fell in love with her.'

`I have, I positively believe. Her wonderful
likeness to my miniature first struck
me.'

`Your earnest manner, brother Frank, is
ominous of danger to both herself and you.
Do not pursue the acquaintance—it can only
end in her ruin and your own dishonor.'

`By heaven, Percy! you wrong my motives,
I tell you she is divinely beautiful,
and so pure that an impure thought cannot
live in her presence.'

`You are in love, Frank, and very romantic
withal. I hope nothing worse than romance
will come of it. Emma will have to pick out
some fair girl as a wife for you. It's time
you were married, Frank.'

`I mean to be one of these days—I wonder
who this lovely milliner can be!'

`Daughter of some honest tradesman, like
enough, perhaps, your boot-maker's niece!'
answered Percy, with playful but severe
irony.

Frank colored, bit his lip, and hastily descended
from the drawing-room to the hall.
As he reached the door, the street bell was
rung, and on opening it, he saw a handsome
little lame boy, with a pale face, but dark
eyes, full of intellect and intelligence. He
was at once interested in his appearance.

`Who do you wish to see, my little lad?'
he inquired, in a gentle tone.

`Mr. Francis Astley.'

`I am he.'

`Did you lose a pocket-book, sir?'

`I did.'

`A green one?'

`A green one with a miniature in it.'

`Here it is sir. My sister found it in Walnut
street this morning.'

With these words, the boy took from his
pocket a snowy cambric handkerchief, and
unfolding it, delivered to him his pocket book.
The name of `Caroline Archer' prettily written
on one corner of the handkerchief caught
his eye before it was returned to his pocket.

`Will you see if the contents are safe, sir?'

`Its of no consequence, my good boy. I
hardly remember what sum was in it,' said
Frank, opening it and just glanced at the
notes.

`There were three hundred and seventy-five
dollars in it when it was found sir.'

`I now remember that was the amount.—
Come into the hall, and I will count it to gratify
you.'

He found it correct, and taking the seventy-five
dollars, presented it to the boy.

`No, I thank you, sir.'

`It is yours. Take it my lad.

`I have only returned your pocket book, sir.
I have merited no reward.`

`If you will not take it, you have no right
to refuse it for your sister. Take this one
hundred dollar bill, and tell her the owner of
the pocket book presents it to her for her integrity.
It will purchase her wedding ornaments
one of these days. She must be a nice
girl. How much younger than you is she?'

`She is older, sir. I am fifteen and she is
seventeen,' he replied, receiving the note.

`Ah! What is your name?'

`Henry Archer.'

`Where do you live?'

`In — alley.'

`Hum! Well, I must do something for you,
my fine lad. Come and see me this time on
Monday. Why do you linger? Would you
ask me any question?'

`I would rather have my sister's miniature,
sir, than money.'

`Your sister's miniature, sir!'

`Yes, sir—in the pocket book. I will gladly
return you the hundred dollars for it, if you
please sir.'

`Is this is a likeness of your sister who
found it?'

`Yes, sir. And ma wonders how you came
to have it. She hopes, and so do I, sir, that
there's nothing wrong about it.'

`Gothing wrong my lad. Is your sister a
milliner's apprentice?'

`Yes, sir, in Walnut street.'

`The very same!' exclaimed Frank, half-audibly.

`Sir.'

`Nothing, my lad. I will let you have the
picture one of these days, perhaps. Her
name is Caroline Archer, is it?'

`Yes, sir.'

`That will do. Don't forget to come to me
on Monday.

With these words, Francis Astley accompanied
the lad to the door, and let him out.

`Well, this is extraordinary. Fortune is
entangling the thread of my life with this
pretty milliner, it is plain. Well, there is
no resisting fate.' And with this conclusive
reasoning, he sallied forth to lounge down
Ghestnut street.