id she, determinedly, "than ever touch a penny of
the money thus accumulated."

"I've thought all that over, long ago, but I dare not do it--it might cause
inquiries to be made that might result to my disadvantage. No, I cannot do
that; sit down, and let us be quiet now."

Mr. Stevens lay back upon his pillow, and for a moment seemed to doze; then
starting up again suddenly, he asked, "Have you told George about it? Have
you ever confided anything to him?"

"No, papa," answered she soothingly, "not a breath; I've been secret as the
grave."

"That's right!" rejoined he--"that is right! I love George, but not as I do
you. He only comes to me when he wants money. He is not like you,
darling--you take care of and nurse your poor old father. Has he come in
yet?"

"Not yet; he never gets home until almost morning, and is then often
fearfully intoxicated."

The old man shook his head, and muttered, "The sins of the fathers
shall--what is that? Did you hear that noise?--hush!"

Lizzie stood quietly by him for a short while, and then walked on tiptoe to
the door--"It is George," said she, after peering into the gloom of their
entry; "he has admitted him self with his night-key."

The shuffling sound of footsteps was now quite audible upon the stairway,
and soon the bloated face of Mr. Stevens's hopeful son was seen at the
chamber door. In society and places where this young gentleman desired to
maintain a respectable character he could be as well behaved, as choice in
his language, and as courteous as anybody; but at home, where he was well
known, and where he did not care to place himself under any restraint, he
was a very different individual.

"Let me in, Liz," said he, in a thick voice; "I want the old man to fork
over some money--I'm cleaned out."

"No, no--go to bed, George," she answered, coaxingly, "and talk to him
about it in the morning."

"I'm coming in _now_," said he, determinedly; "and besides, I want to tell
you something about that nigger Garie."

"Tell us in the morning," persisted Lizzy.

"No--I'm going to tell you now," rejoined he, forcing his way into the
room--"it's too good to keep till morning. Pick up that wick, let a fellow
see if you are all alive!"

Lizzie raised the wick of the lamp in accordance with his desire, and then
sat down with an expression of annoyance and vexation on her countenance.

George threw himself into an easy chair, and began, "I saw that white
nigger Garie to-n