Chapter Eighty Six.

Still Later.

With mingled emotions do we bring our tale to a close. Some of its scenes may have given pain; while others, it is to be hoped, have been suggestive of pleasure.

And with like mingled emotions, must we part from its conspicuous characters: leaving some with regret, others with gladness.

There are those of them whose after fate cannot fail to cause pain. Perhaps more than all that of Julia Girdwood.

It is told in three words: a disgust with all mankind—a determination never to marry—and its consequence, a life of old maid-hood!

She still lives it, and who knows that she may not like it? If not now, when her mother takes departure from the world, leaving her to the enjoyment of a million dollars.

But Mrs Girdwood has not done so yet; and says she don’t intend to for a score of years to come!

She would herself get married, but for that crooked clause in the deceased storekeeper’s will, which is all-powerful to prevent her!

“Poor Fan Swinton!”

So a moralist might have said, who saw her, six months after, driving through the Park, with a parasol upon her whip, and a pair of high-steppers in the traces—both whip and steppers paid for by one who is not her husband.

Perhaps there were but few moralists in the Park to make the reflection!

“And poor Dick Swinton!”

There were still fewer to say that, as the ex-guardsman stood in the dock of a criminal court, charged not only with an attempt at bigamy, but murder!

Fewer still, after both charges had been proved; and with hair close cropped he took forced departure for a far-distant land!

The “other count” went in the same ship with him, into a like involuntary exile, and from causes somewhat similar!

And the Honourable Geraldine Courtney in time followed suit: she losing her luxuriant tresses for having changed from the profession of “horse coper” to the less reputable calling of coiner!

She had a long “innings,” however, before it came to that: time enough to bring to ruin more than one young swell—among others Frank Scudamore, the “spooney” of the Haymarket supper.

Sir Robert Cottrell still lives; and still continues to make grand conquests at the cheapest possible price.

And alive, too, are Messrs Lucas and Spiller, both returned to America from their European tour, and both yet bachelors.

The former may be seen any day sauntering along the streets of New York, and frequently flitting around that Fifth Avenue House, where dwells the disconsolate Julia.

Notwithstanding repeated repulses, he has not lost hope of consoling her, by effecting a change in her name!

His shadow, Spiller, is not so much seen along with him—at least upon the flags of the Fifth Avenue.

Cornelia Inskip, the star that should have attracted him thither, is no longer there. The daughter of the Poughkeepsie retailer has long since changed, not only her name, but place of abode. She can be found in the capital of Austria, by any one inquiring for the Countess von Roseveldt.

More fortunate than her ambitious cousin, who sought a title without finding it, Cornelia found one without seeking it!

It seems like dealing out dramatic justice, but the story is true. Not much of a tragedy, since we have but one death to record. That, too, expected, though painful.

Sir George Vernon died; but not till after having seen his daughter married to the man of her choice, and given his blessing both to the Child Wife and her chosen husband.

It has long made them happy in their English home; and, now, in a far foreign land—the land where they first saw one another—that blessing still clings to them.

Maynard believes in Blanche, and she in him, as at that hour when she saw him lifted in the arms of big-bearded men, and carried on board the Cunard steamer!

That proud triumph over the people has made an impression upon her heart, never to be effaced! And to win such a wife, who would not be true to the people!

The End.