I.
With this chapter closes the story with which we have so long been
trespassing upon our kind reader's patience. We hav emuch to do in a
little space to take care of all our characters, but we trust they will all
have due justice done them.
We have said that our hero resolved to accept the invitation contained
in the anonymous note which he had received, believing it might come
from the female who had addressed the bank in reference to the drafts;
which female had, as we know, a fictitious existence. James had suspected
indeed that the note to the bank might have been penned by Carlton, but
when he received this he believed that then it might really have been written
by a woman. Hoping to obtain some clue to the abettors of the plo;
against him he determined to go to No. —, Dormer Place. A few minutes
before eight he rang the bell and was admitted by the young fair-haired
slave of the mulatto. From the appearance of luxury in the hall he believed
it was the abode of a respectable private family. Giving his name, the
young girl, at once, as if previously instructed, led him to the upper drawing-room
and left him to enter. At first he saw no one, for the apartment was
obscure and objects indistinct. He crossed, as Ellery had done, to the door
whence the light issued, and was met by Isabel with an enchanting smile
upon her features, and eyes brilliant with passionate love.
`I feared you would not come,' she said, with tones that thrilled his bosom,
while he gazed upon her with bewildered surprise; for he recognized the dark-eyed
sewing-girl in all the voluptuous elegance of her present costume.
As she spoke she took his hand and led him as if she would seat him by her
upon the ottoman from which she had risen to meet him.
`It was by you then the note came,' he said gravely, and shrinking back;
for he felt an instinctive alarm at the position in which he found himself.
`Are you not the same person who —'
`Yes, the sewing-girl whose scarf you returned to her. The sewing-girl
who gave you in return her heart. I have sent for you to declare my passion
and to assure you that if you will return it I will lay my life at your feet.
Without you I can never exist. With you I seek no happiness beyond this life.'
`You know not what you say,' he said, with astonishment and pain.
`To you I can be nothing. Why did you write to me? How can I serve
you, or what interest have you in my honor? Why do I find you here surrounded
by luxury.'
`This is my home. I was at the mantua-maker's but a few days, to please
one who has control over me.'
`Who are you?'
`La Isla, the opera-singer.'
`The Jewess?'
`Yes.'
`Why have you sent for me? What do I do! lingering to gaze on your
beauty! I must this instant leave you! If you have unhappily conceived
a passion for me, forget me! Good night.'
`Stay—Oh cruel! Leave me not thus!'
`Ah, I have you at last, my Joseph Surface!' cried Philip, advancing
and confronting him. `You do n't know me, but I know you! You would
seek the ruin of this lady under my protection. I shall detain you; for I
have missed a diamond since you came in and I suspect you have it. I
have already sent off to the police for an officer.'
James stood appalled. He saw at once the whole extent of his danger.
He felt as if his ruin was sealed. Innocent, he was bold. He believed
that this too was part of the conspiracy of the forgeries. The immense
peril his name and character were now in, inspired him with decision. With
a well-directed blow he struck the mulatto down, and springing over his body
he escaped from the room and from the house.
