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You've got a wife onbeknown to the Kemittee! and a happy man I know you air." It pleased Reybold to hear this, and deepened his interest in the landlady's family. His attention to her daughter stirred Mrs. Basil's pride and revolt together. "My daughter, Colonel Reybold," she said, "is designed for the army.
Reybold knew the reputation of the house: a resort for the scions of the old tide-water families, where hospitality thinly veiled the paramount design of plunder. The connection established the truth of Mrs. Basil's statement. Here, perhaps, already married to the dissipated heir of some unproductive estate, Joyce Basil's lot was cast forever.
Accept it, and leave Washington with me and with your brother. I love you wholly." A happy light shone in her face a moment. She was weary to the bone with the day's work, and had not the strength, if she had the will, to prevent the Congressman drawing her to his heart. Sobbing there, she spoke with bitter agony: "Heaven bless you, dear Mr. Reybold, with a wife good enough to deserve you!
"Dear Uriel," whispered Reybold, "here's Old Beau, to whom you once spoke angrily. Don't you see him?" The little boy's eyes came back from far-land somewhere, and he saw the ruined gamester at his feet. "Dear Beau," he said, "I can't get off to go home with you. They won't excuse me, and I give all my money to mother. But you go to the back gate. Ask for Joyce.
His estates cannot be more precious to his heart, if he is a man of honor; nay, what is better than honor, his duty requires him to come to the side of these children, though he be ever so constrained by business or pleasure to attend to more worldly concerns." "The Judge," exclaimed Mrs. Basil, much miffed, "is a man of hereditary ijees, Colonel Reybold.
The little boy on crutches, who had been looking at this scene in a state of suspense and interest for some time, here cried hotly: "If you say Mr. Reybold is a mean man, you tell a story, you nasty beggar! He often gives things to me and Joyce, my sister. He's just got me work, which is the best thing to give; don't you think so, gentlemen?"
As Reybold stood in an archway of this street, just as the evening shadows deepened above the line of sunset, he saw something pass which made his heart start to his throat and fastened him to the spot.
Where is the Judge, your husband, at this moment?" "Excuse me, Colonel Reybold, this is a little of a assumption, sir. The Jedge might call you out, sir, for intruding upon his incog. He's very fine on his incog., you air awair." "Madame," exclaimed Reybold straightforwardly, "there are reasons why I should communicate with your husband. My term in Congress is nearly expired.
"Nothing," said Reybold in a quiet way. "I cannot give a man like you any thing, even to get rid of him." "You're mean," said the stylish beggar, winking to the rest. "You hate to put your hand down in yer pocket, mightily. I'd rather be ole Beau, and live on suppers at the faro banks, than love a dollar like you!"
Oh! let me sleep and see if it will be so again." The outcast raised his gold-headed cane and hobbled up and down the room with a laced handkerchief at his eyes. "Great God!" he exclaimed, "another generation is going out, and here I stay without a stake, playing a lone hand forever and forever." "Beau," said Reybold, "there's hope while one can feel.
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