al was duly impressed upon the scholars that Mr. Newt was a
great man because he had been one of Mr. Gray's boys. The Washington
world soon knew his story, the one conspicuous fact being that he was the
favorite nephew of the rich merchant, Lawrence Newt. All the doors flew
open. The dinner invitations, the evening notes, fell upon his table more
profusely than ever.

He sneered at his triumph. Ambition, political success, social prestige
had no fascination for a man who was half imbruted, and utterly
disappointed and worn out. One thing only Abel really wanted. He wanted
money--money, which could buy the only pleasures of which he was now
capable.

"Look here, Delilah--I like that name better than Kitty, it means
something--you know Belch. So do I. Do you suppose a man would work with
him or for him except for more advantage than he can insure? Or do you
think _I_ want to slave for the public--_I_ work for the public? God!
would I be every man's drudge? No, Mrs. Delilah Jones, emphatically
not. I will be my own master, and yours, and my revered uncle will foot
the bills."

The woman looked at him inquiringly. She was a willing captive. She
accepted him as master.

"It isn't for you to know how he will pay," said Abel, "but to enjoy the
fruits."

The woman, in whose face there were yet the ruins of a coarse beauty,
which pleased Abel now as the most fiery liquor gratified his palate,
looked at him, and said,

"Abel, what are we to do?"

"To be happy," he answered, with the old hard, black light in his eyes.

She almost shuddered as she heard the tone and saw the look, and yet she
did not feel as if she could escape the spell of his power.

"To be happy!" she repeated. "To be happy!"

Her voice fell as she spoke the words; Her life had not been a long one.
She had laughed a great deal, but she had never been happy. She knew Abel
from old days. She saw him now, sodden, bloated--but he fascinated her
still. Was he the magician to conjure happiness for her?

"What is your plan?" she asked.

"I have two passages taken in a brig for the Mediterranean. We go to New
York a day or two before she sails. That's all."

"And then?" asked his companion, with wonder and doubt in her voice.

"And then a blissful climate and happiness."

"And then?" she persisted, in a low, doubtful voice.

"Then Hell--if you are anxious for it," said Abel, in a sharp, sudden
voice.

The poor woman cowered as she sat. Men had often