was distinctly audible: If you dare to fail me now, Bolton, or betray me, or show by word or whisper, or even by look, I'll place you where you'll rot I'll

ay, rot!

'Hist, George!' said the attorney, starting up, and seizing him by the arm; did you hear nothing?'

Both listened attentively.

'Nothing but the wind howling through this old rookery,' said Wilkins: did you hear what I said when you interrupted me?'

'Yes, I heard, and I'll not fail you. Why, George,' continued he, assuming an air of frankness that sat indifferently on him, 'are we not old friends tried friends? Have I not stood by you when none other would? You have not forgotten the last time for a thousand dollars.'

the note

We know

'No more of that,' interrupted the other, impatiently. each other too well,' continued he, laying an emphasis on the last words, which seemed to indicate that the acquaintance, though intimate, had not increased his confidence. But I did not come here to be reminded of old grievances; I come to get a remedy for new ones. The only question is, will you help me or not? This girl to whom I am married is in my way. I must be rid of her, and I have come to you for counsel. Will you give it?'

Before Wilkins finished speaking, the attorney had recovered the habitual sneer that played about his thin lip, and replied quietly and with an appearance of decision that he felt sure would influence his companion:

If you mean to murder, I will not. I have already risked much to help you, and will risk more, but I'll not risk my life. Beside, there are other means fully as good, and which do not lead to a halter.'

Well! what are they? The safer the better. But listen to me. I will be rid of that girl! by G-d I will! even though -'He paused; but the expression of demoniac hate and malice which shone in every feature, and from which the attorney, steeped as he was in wickedness, quailed as from the glance of an evil spirit, and the quick motion of his arm, as if in the act of stabbing, explained his

purpose.

'It must not be it must not!' was the reply, in a tone which had lost much of its former confidence. There are other ways, and they must be thought of. A divorce will leave you as free as you can desire. Do you wish to be rid only of her, or of the knot?"

'Of both! of both! If ever man loathed woman, I loathe her. There is but one thought in life; there is but one dream when my eyes are closed, and that is of hatred; and there is but one person in that thought and dream, and that is her!'

This is a sad affair indeed,' said the attorney.

'Sad!' said Wilkins, drawing his chair more closely to that of the lawyer, and speaking in a whisper; 'sad?-it's dreadful; it's wearing away my life. Bolton, if you could but look into this bosom and see its bitterness, hard, callous as you are, even you would shudder. There are moments when it seems as if all the devils in hell had taken possession of me. Yet I have strange fits of weakness too. I'll tell you what I did the other night. I had thought and thought on this one subject; and it would keep running into my head, that if she

were out of the way, how well I could get on. It was in my own room, at midnight, and there she lay, in a deep sleep, the bed clothes thrown partly down, and her throat bare. I know not how it was, but I found myself stealing to the bed with this dirk in my hand, and I held the point within an inch of her bosom. At that moment she turned in her sleep and said, 'Dear George, God bless you!' Curse me if I could strike! I slunk back from the bed, and blubbered like a boy, for I felt strange feelings at work, which I have not had for many a day. I'd rather not spill blood if any thing else can be done. Can't we send her abroad? You know if she is out of the way there's nothing between me and the widow. Once let me get her fortune,

and you shall not be the loser by it.'

6

Can she prove the marriage?'

Beyond a doubt.'

How long have you been married?' inquired Bolton. 'Two years.'

And is she true to you?-true beyond suspicion?' asked the lawyer, looking at him significantly.

True as steel. Why, man will you believe it? in spite of all, she

foves me!'

'Ah!' said the attorney, in a dissatisfied tone, that's bad. If it were not so, and she had another lover, and it could be proved · (he spoke slowly, and with great meaning in his looks,) the court of chancery would grant a divorce, and you would be free.'

Free! free! exclaimed Wilkins, springing from his seat, as one from whom a great weight had just been lifted; Free! Great God! let me be free once again, and I'll be a different man one.'

-

an honest

The attorney smiled, and although he said nothing, there was something in the calm, sarcastic curl of the lip, that stung Wilkins to the soul, and he turned fiercely upon him.

Ay, I repeat it - an honest man.' What have you to say against it?'

'Nothing,' said Bolton, drawing toward him a piece of paper, and writing something on it; there's what I must have, before I meddle in the matter.'

Wilkins took it and read: Two thousand dollars down, and five thousand more when you get the widow.'

'Bolton!' said he, in a choked voice, 'this is too bad. Two thousand dollars! I have not ten dollars in the world. I do 'nt know what your drift is,' said he, suddenly stopping and looking steadily in the face of the lawyer, but you have a d-d suspicious look to-night; and there's something in the wind more than you let out beware how you trifle with me! You should know me too well for that.'

Bolton attempted to smile, but only succeeded in producing a nervous contraction of the lip, at the same time turning deadly pale: at length he said, with some effort: You are right, I have something. Wait! I hear a noise in the passage.'

Taking the light, he hastily unlocked the door, and traversed for some distance the dark entry which led to the lower floor. Nothing whatever was visible in the dim light, except the time-stained walls, and the broad chinks between the dilapidated planks. On re-enter

ing the room, he went to each window and drew the shutters carefully together; after which, he made a total and general survey of the office.

'There's nobody; it was all fancy,' said he, replacing the light on the table. Now,' he added, 'I will speak plainly with you. I have that in my mind which you have on yours; a plan to mend my fortune. Assist me, and I will assist you, without fee or reward. Swear to keep my secret, and I will swear to keep yours.'

What mischief's hatching now?' asked Wilkins, suspiciously. 'Swear first to keep the secret.'

'Well; here I swear

'That will not do; I must have something more solemn.' 'Well, what do you want?' asked Wilkins, impatiently.

'Get on your knees, and with your hands raised to heaven, call down imprecations on your head, blight upon your prospects, and perdition to your soul, if you betray me. Then I'll believe.'

Without remark, and with a solemnity that struck awe even to the hardened heart of the man who incited him, Wilkins knelt down, and with uplifted hands, and eyes turned toward the throne of the great Omnipotent, called down upon himself maledictions that made the blood of his listener curdle, if he betrayed the confidence then to be reposed in him.

Enough!' said Bolton, relieved by the conclusion of a ceremony so fearful. Drawing the key from the drawer, and once more unlocking the iron safe, he took from it the paper which had been so hastily deposited there, and spread it on the table.

Here,' said he, hurriedly putting a pen in the hand of the other, as if afraid of his resolution giving way, 'just sign that; put your name there. I'll explain afterward.'

'What is it?' asked Wilkins, holding the pen exactly as it was placed in his hand, and looking at the attorney instead of the paper. Before a man puts his name to a thing like this, he likes to know what it is.'

Merely a will,' said Bolton, nervously; only a will.' 'A will! Whose? mine?'

No; of an old friend of mine, John Crawford. I want you to put your name as a witness to its execution.'

'Ah! I see; you are helping him take care of his property, and you want me to witness it before he has even put his own name to it. I suppose I may read it, to make sure it is n't my own,' said he, running his eye over the paper: Natural daughter, Ellen Crawford ; five thousand all the rest, residue, and remainder;' umph! both real and personal - my valued friend Reuben Bolton sole executor-subscribed, signed, sealed, declared, and published Bolton,' said he, quietly lowering the paper, you are a d- d scoundrel!' 'Perhaps so,' replied the attorney, shrugging his shoulders,' but what are you?'

6

'What want and suffering have made me. You have not even that

excuse.'

Perhaps not. You know the terms on which I will assist you. John Crawford was seized with apoplexy this morning; before tomorrow he will be in his coffin; and this will must be made and wit

nessed before then. I can imitate his signature so that he would swear to it himself. I will put it at the end of this, and you must witness it.

'Well, what then?' demanded Wilkins, suspiciously; 'suppose the old man dies: what is to be done next?'

a

'Little or nothing; merely swear that you saw him sign it few other trifling matters; few or no questions will be asked; a mere form. It will be completed in five minutes, and you will get the widow for nothing.'

'Nothing! Only a false oath, and risk of being entertained at public expense. Do you call that nothing? However, I'll do it,' said he, speaking in a clear, decided tone. But the girl-will she be quiet?'

'What can she do? Will she not be penniless?'

'Not exactly. There's a small legacy of five thousand, which will keep the life in a pretty long law-suit; and if she should happen to be litigious

Curse it! I never thought of that!' exclaimed Bolton, striking his hand forward, with an air of vexed impatience, and taking one or two hasty steps.

Perhaps,' suggested Wilkins, the old gentleman intended to make a later will without the legacy.'

'Yes, yes, so he did,' said Bolton, laughing, catching eagerly at the suggestion. We 'll do it for him, and you'll witness it?' Ay, if you 'll unfetter me,' replied Wilkins.

'It's a bargain,' said the attorney, striking his hand into the open palm of the other; and thus was their iniquitous compact sealed. As if by consent, both now seemed to think the conference concluded.

'Be here to-morrow evening at ten; and in the mean time gather up all that will throw suspicion on your wife. By-the-bye, the will requires two witnesses. Can you find another equally trusty with yourself? I have a clerk who will excel one of these days, but he is too young yet, and would be nervous."

Wilkins pondered a moment; at length he said: I know the very man; sharp, shrewd, without conscience, and with nerves like iron. But he is poor, and has no widow in his eye. You must pay him in ready money.' 'Leave that to me.

And now I must spend the rest of the night in helping my old friend dispose of his property. Ha! ha! ha!' 'Ha! ha! you are a deep one!' said Wilkins, taking up his hat. To-morrow night at ten. Good night!'

The attorney listened to his steps as they echoed along the passage, until they died away; then carefully locking the door, he lighted another candle, and seated himself to his work.

CHAPTER II.

It was a cold night, and as Wilkins emerged from the building into the open street, he drew a long breath of pure air, as if it were refreshing once more to be free from the murky, stagnant atmosphere of that old house, and under the blue vault of the sky.

Thoughts and plans came crowding thickly upon him as he strode on, and hopes and fears, and with them was mingled a lurking dread of the poor girl against whom he was plotting; a half-acknowledged fear of what she might do, if driven to extremity; and above all, the whispering of his own conscience, which made a coward of him as he slunk through the dark streets. Skulking along like a felon, he made for one of the great thoroughfares, for he felt as if the crowd there would keep off his own thoughts.

It was still early in the evening, and the streets were thronged with that tide of population which during the first hours after twilight sets from the lower to the upper part of the town. None loitered,

except the sick, the weary, and the homeless. Hundreds of those poor girls who spend the hours of daylight in the lower parts of the city in earning a pittance by tedious toil, were speeding like so many loosened birds to the homes where there were glad faces to welcome them, and kind hands to smoothe a pillow beneath their aching heads; or perhaps not a few craved but a place to cast down their work-worn frames to rest before another day of toil. Many a pale face and blighted form was among that crowd, and many a tottering limb and trembling hand; eyes that should have been bright, were dimmed with premature suffering, and features that should have worn the hue of health, and been radiant with gladness, were now wan and sunken, or illumined only by the sickly smile which flickers over the face of the invalid. Day after day they toiled on, but they felt that there was nothing in store for them; their childhood had had no joy, their youth no promise. Even hope was gone; and weary and heart-sick, they looked forward to but one place, where there was a calm and holy peace; where their toils would be ended forever—and that was the grave.

Mechanics and boys with their tin kettles, now that the labor of the day was past, in squads of five or six were hurrying on, some in silence, others with loud merriment, but all bound to that single sacred spot - home.

Wilkins mingled with the throng, and made his way among them, sometimes pausing to listen to the remarks of the passers-by, and sometimes brooding over his own plans.

The street through which he was passing was that great artery of the city called the Bowery; and just above where it empties itself into the triangular opening known as Chatham Square, he struck off into a by-street on the eastern side of it.

The dwellings in this neighborhood were of the meaner kind, built chiefly of wood, with patched and broken windows, here and there repaired by paper or by the introduction of an old hat or a pair of tattered inexpressibles. Throughout the whole there was an odd mixture of comfort and penury, and occasionally a faint effort at gentility in defiance of poverty; but in most cases, in the bitter struggle between human vanity and human want, stern necessity had got the upper hand.

A front room on a level with the street, in a mean house in the part of the city just described, was Wilkins' home. It was small and scantily furnished. A rag carpet, a small looking-glass, a common deal table, a bed, and a few rush-bottom chairs, were all; but with all