sleeping aspect of our great city." There was gloom in
Bertram's tone; his uncle looked at him curiously.

"What house was it from which you were coming when he passed you?"

"A building where Tueller and Co. do business, shady operators in paper,
as you know."

"And you believed he recognized you?"

"I cannot be sure, sir. It was dark, but I thought I saw him look at me
and give a slight start."

Ah, how desolate sounds the drip, drip of a ceaseless rain, when
conversation languishes and the ear has time to listen!

"I will explain to Mr. Stuyvesant when I see him, that you were in
search of a man with whom I had pressing business," observed Mr.
Sylvester at last.

"No," murmured Bertram with effort, "it might emphasize the occurrence
in his mind; let the matter drop where it is."

There was another silence, during which the drip of the rain on the
window-ledge struck on the young man's ears like the premonitory thud of
falling earth upon a coffin-lid. At length his uncle turned and advanced
rapidly towards him.

"Bertram," said he, "you have done me a favor for which I thank you.
What you have learned in the course of its accomplishment I cannot tell.
Enough perhaps to make you understand why I warned you from the
dangerous path of speculation, and set your feet in a way that if
adhered to with steadfast purpose, ought to lead you at last to a safe
and honorable prosperity. Now--No, Bertram," he bitterly interrupted
himself as the other opened his lips, "I am in need of no especial
commiseration, my affairs seem bound to prosper whether I will or
not--now I have one more commission to give you. Miss Fairchild--" his
voice quavered and he leaned heavily on the chair near which he was
standing. "Have you seen her, Bertram? Is the poor child quite
prostrated? Has this frightful occurrence made her ill, or does she bear
up with fortitude under the shock of this sudden calamity?"

"She is not ill, but her suffering is undoubted. If you could see her
and say a few words to relieve her anxiety in regard to yourself, I
think it would greatly comfort her. Her main thought seems to be for
you, sir."

Mr. Sylvester frowned, raised his hand with a repelling gesture, and
hastily opened his lips. Bertram thought he was about to utter some
passionate phrase. But instead of that he merely remarked, "I am sorry I
cannot see her, but it is quite impossible. You must stand between me
and this poor child, Bertram. Tell her