George threw himself into an easy chair, and began, “I saw that white nigger Garie to-night, he was in company with a gentleman, at that—­the assurance of that fellow is perfectly incomprehensible.  He was drinking at the bar of the hotel; and as it is no secret why he and Miss Bates parted, I enlightened the company on the subject of his antecedents.  He threatened to challenge me!  Ho! ho!—­fight with a nigger—­that is too good a joke!” And laughing heartily, the young ruffian leant back in his chair.  “I want some money to-morrow, dad,” continued he.  “I say, old gentleman, wasn’t it a lucky go that darkey’s father was put out of the way so nicely, eh?—­We’ve been living in clover ever since—­haven’t we?”

“How dare you address me-in that disrespectful manner?  Go out of the room, sir!” exclaimed Mr. Stevens, with a disturbed countenance.

“Come, George, go to bed,” urged his sister wearily.  “Let father sleep—­it is after twelve o’clock.  I am going to wake the nurse, and then retire myself.”

George rose stupidly from his chair, and followed his sister from the room.  On the stairway he grasped her arm rudely, and said, “I don’t understand how it is that you and the old man are so cursed thick all of a sudden.  You are thick as two thieves, always whispering and talking together.  Act fair, Liz—­don’t persuade him to leave you all the money.  If you do, we’ll quarrel—­that’s flat.  Don’t try and cozen him out of my share as well as your own—­you hear!”

“Oh, George!” rejoined she reproachfully—­“I never had such an idea.”

“Then what are you so much together for?  Why is there so much whispering and writing, and going off on journeys all alone?  What does it all mean, eh?”

“It means nothing at all, George.  You are not yourself to-night,” said she evasively; “you had better go to bed.”

“It is you that are not yourself,” he retorted.  “What makes you look so pale and worried—­and why do you and the old man start if the door cracks, as if the devil was after you?  What is the meaning of that?” asked he with a drunken leer.  “You had better look out,” concluded he; “I’m watching you both, and will find out all your secrets by-and-by.”

“Learn all our secrets!  Ah, my brother!” thought she, as he disappeared into his room, “you need not desire to have their fearful weight upon you, or you will soon grow as anxious, thin, and pale as I am.”

The next day at noon Lizzie started on her journey, after a short conference with her father.

Night had settled upon her native city, when she was driven through its straight and seemingly interminable thoroughfares.  The long straight rows of lamps, the snowy steps, the scrupulously clean streets, the signs over the stores, were like the faces of old acquaintances, and at any other time would have caused agreeable recollections; but the object of her visit pre-occupied her mind, to the exclusion of any other and more pleasant associations.