HIS SIN HAD FOUND HIM OUT.

That night young Sterling had redeemed his promise, and taken Constance to the theatre, where he soon found himself an object of annoying attention, from the remarkable beauty of his companion. No wonder. Her complexion was bright and pure as a morning rich with June roses. In color and form, she was splendid; yet there was something in her look, and the atmosphere that surrounded her, quite indescribable, which betrayed that she was not in all respects a gentlewoman.

This subtle influence, which made itself felt as surely as her personal loveliness, tinged the homage which her beauty might have inspired. She felt herself stared at, and knew that she was admired. This thought fired her vanity, and made her restless. She looked about the audience, with an air that seemed to challenge observation.

As the play went on, a tall man, stooping forward in his walk, and clothed in black, came into the theatre, took an empty seat near the couple, and watched them keenly, but with apparent indifference, when he observed that any one was looking at him. Before the performance closed he left the theatre, and walked leisurely toward the tenement house in which he had only a short time before left the girl's father in an agony of apprehension.

He found that unhappy man trying to read, by the light of a kerosene lamp, which Rhoda had trimmed and brightened up for him; but no word of the book he held had reached his thoughts, which went painfully back to the man who had just left him.

Church flung his cap on the sofa where his linen duster lay, and sat down by the table.

"Well, Hudson, I have seen your girl, and she is simply splendid. The idea of keeping a creature like that in this place, is absurd. I cannot permit it."

"It is all the home I can give her," said Hudson, with some spirit; "but I think she will have something better before long."

"You mean the young fellow that is with her. He may have a weakness for your girl—who would not? But he is not weak in other respects; that handsome face of his has strong lines in it; and the mouth is iron. It would go hard with the girl, if he were her husband, and something we know of, were to come out. I do not think we had better encourage that sort of thing."

But I sometimes think—"

"No you don't. No man can think safely ten minutes in advance. But tell me, who is that young fellow? how comes he to stand on such very intimate terms with your daughter?"

"He is an engraver of great genius; his name is Sterling, and I think he was born in England."

"A brief biography, but how came he on such terms here, that he dares take your daughter out, and you ignorant of the fact?"

"He is my daughter's teacher."

"In what, pray?"

"She has a wonderful genius for the art, and he has been her teacher in it during the last year."

"But why did you not teach her yourself?"

"I did, for awhile—but she soon got beyond me; as a little girl, I saw her talent and encouraged it."

"Are you sure that this young fellow is not teaching her a double lesson? You were always a modest man, Hudson, and a little over-confiding, as we can both remember. It will be difficult to convince me, that this young fellow can surpass you with the graver."

There was something in the man's look as he said this, which startled Hudson, and he faltered out:

"I am getting old; my sight is failing."

"Tush, man! your sight and your hand are sharp and steady enough for me; I have found no one to equal you. In fact, I have been in search of you. It was not the old friendship alone, that made my heart leap, when your voice swelled across my path to-night. The old enterprise was nothing to what we may accomplish now. My position in the Treasury—"

"Hold, hold!" cried Hudson, drawing his chair suddenly back, and throwing out both hands in desperate repulsion. "I expected this; I saw it in your face, but I will never do the thing you want, never!—So help me—"

"There, there! let us have no more, old friend; this is not a midnight mission, and calling upon God in high passion, can be dispensed with. You have grown nervous and timid; let us talk of something else."

Hudson drew his chair slowly towards the table again, but his limbs were quivering and his hand shook as he lifted it to his forehead.

"Tell me more about your girl," said Church, softly feeling his way back to the poor man's confidence. "Did I understand that she really thinks of working for her own living?"

"She aspires to more than that, poor child, and talks of supporting her father when he gets too old for work."

"She must be a brave girl."

"She has borne many things bravely; privation of all those things a young girl loves best,—dress, accomplishments, society, for I have not always had work, and at times we have been very poor."

"But you knew where to find me, Hudson, and I wanted to hear about you so much. There was no occasion for poverty here."

"I know, I know," answered Hudson, rapidly; "but Constance had wonderful spirit, and put up with what I could give her without complaint. I was astonished."

"No wonder if a girl like that could content herself here, she must be either without taste, or an angel."

Hudson's face brightened; and he said with some emphasis:

"Constance is not an angel, but she is a brave, bright girl."

Church smiled blandly.

"I have seen your daughter, and can believe more than that from her face alone; but tell me more of the young man; of course the girl has made a slave of him by this time."

"No one will ever make a slave of him, he is far too proud and clever for that."

"But there is always a method by which a sharp girl can control such men, either through the head or heart. It is your fool that is unmanageable. That young fellow, at any rate, is no fool."

"No, he is sharp as steel!"

"And you are certain about his talent?"

"No finer artist in the city; and, what is better, no one, at least very few, have any idea of it. He studied in England; and, being proud as Lucifer, takes in work on the sly through another artist-friend."

"And how did your daughter get acquainted with him?"

"I had been unable to work for a long time, for my eyes were overtasked, and inflamed. We were on the verge of absolute want."

"And you never thought of me—you did not even tell her of your old friend?"

Again Hudson turned deadly pale, and shrunk back, as Church laid what seemed like a friendly hand upon his knee.

"My girl has talent—genius I may assert, and that is a gift which always aspires to independent action. She resolved to exert all her energies, and absolutely against my protest, went to a first class engraver, for counsel and help. She was poor, she said; had talent enough to do something at engraving, but lacked tuition. Would he give it to her, and look for remuneration when she was able to work? The girl has a face that will make its way anywhere—but you have seen it. Well, the good-hearted young fellow gave way to it at once, and she set to work in earnest; not with the principal engraver, 'that was impossible,' he said, but he had a young friend who lived in close retirement, and who might not object to a pupil—that friend, Church, you saw to-night. He is a man of superior genius."

"Yes; but about the young lady?"

"She has talent and wonderful perseverance, I can tell you."

"The talent I do not doubt, but the perseverance—

"Well, go on."

"The young people were brought together—my daughter took to her work with passionate ardor; her progress was something wonderful."

While Hudson was speaking thus of his daughter, inspired by love of his own art, Church fell into thought, and he did not answer. Hudson sat watching him with anxious face. At last he was asking himself if he had not been talking rashly, in such praises of his daughter's talent, and a vague fear came over him. It was evident from the next words of his visitor, that he had not misjudged the train of thoughts that possessed that crafty man.

"But an art like this requires time and patience," he said, really speaking to himself, "without that, genius is of little account."

"Of course," said Hudson, eagerly," I spoke of crude genius and ardent desire in my child rather than perfection, she is a long way from that."

"I dare be sworn; as for the young man, I suppose he is little better—so we must fall back upon you, old fellow. It is decided. Show me some of your late works, if time and practice is anything, it should be perfect."

Hudson got up from his chair, and, opening a closet, brought forth a steel plate just in the progress of completion. It was an imperfect work and gave traces of the weak sight and tremulous hand of the artist.

Church examined it with a gathering frown.

"This is a falling off," he muttered, "not your best, surely?"

"My last and the best I can do," answered Hudson, with a look of relief.

Church saw the look, and a gleam of fire shot to his eyes.

"Let me look at something the girl has done."

Hudson turned deadly white, and cast a pitiful glance at his persecutor, who smiled blandly as he handed back the steel plate. With a slow step he went to the closet, and brought forth a half-finished piece of work.

"This is hers," he said, holding the plate out for inspection.

Church took it eagerly, carried it to the lamp, and pored over it, line by line; but the cloud gathered again on his forehead, and he handed, the plate back with a disdainful gesture, only saying:

"As I expected."

Hudson put the plate away with such haste, that it excited the visitor's suspicion; a gleam of shrewd intelligence shot across his face. He said nothing of what was in his thoughts, but took out his watch.

"It is almost time for them to be here," he said, "as I have staid so late, suppose I trespass further."

"I—I shall be very glad," faltered poor Hudson. "Sit down."

"I will," answered Church, placing his hat on a rack in the hall, and sitting down for the first time in a comfortable position. "Suppose we order a little supper, and have it ready when the young folks come in? I should like to study them a little."