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Hakes was found without difficulty, at his place of business,
a Chatham street cellar, the entrance to which was
hung with well-scoured suits of second-hand clothing, while
the interior was similarly decked on all sides with huge
piles of resuscitated garments. The old man, whose features
and occupation proclaimed him a Jew, and whose
speech told that he was a German, was sitting, spider-like,
in the back part of his den, watching for prey, and he came
eagerly forward at the first appearance of his visitors.

“What will you have, shentlemans?” he said, quickly—
but at the second glance he recognized the attorney, and
saw that he had mistaken the character of his customers.

“Ah, Meeshter Perth, I am glad to see you,” he said.
“You don't want any coats, I believe?”

“No,” said the young lawyer, laughing, “I want some
lining for coat-pockets, of the same kind I had for Mr.
Jones the other day, though not quite so high-priced.”

“Ah, Meeshter Perth, Meeshter Perth, you make hard
bargain with me; I am afraid of you, Meeshter Perth.”

“None of that gammon, David; I happen to know that
you have received your money back from Jones, and an
equal sum for profit, as agreed.”

“Oh, yes, I got it!” replied the Jew, elevating his eyebrows,
“but I scare very much first—I no sleep all day—
all night—but I got it. Mr. Jones ish a ver goot man.”

“Well, I have a much better customer for you now.

[figure description] Page 093.[end figure description]

This young gentleman wants a larger sum and he is a very
rich man—”

“Walk into my office, shentlemans,” said the Jew, leading
the way into a small back room, dimly lighted by a
single window, and redolent with the odor of musty clothes.
“Sit down, shentlemans; I am a very poor man, but I have
a leetle monish sometimes.”

Perth proceeded briefly and correctly to relate young
Werter's situation and wants, and naming a thousand dollars
as the loan required.

“Ah, no, no, no—tish great risk,” said the Jew, shaking
his head violently. “He die—I loosh my monish; he
live—become great man and forget old clo' man—den I
loosh my monish; no—no—no.”

“You shall not lose it if he lives; my bond, at least, is
binding, and I will guaranty that he keeps his word if he
can.”

The usurer eyed closely Sidney's innocent face, for,
sharper as he was, he knew the expression of an honest
man, and he seemed to hesitate.

“You will take ver much care of yourself,” he said;
“you will be ver rich man if you live.”

Sidney smiled, and said he was to sail in three days for
Cuba, for the benefit of his health.

“Ah, dat is goot for you. How much you give for tousand
dollars?”

“I am willing to pay liberally. What will you require?
Please to name your best terms at once.”

“Ah, it would be worth ten per shent. De risk is very
great.”

“That is moderate enough, Mr. Perth,” said Sidney,
aside to the attorney.

“Wait a minute—I don't think you quite understand
Mr. Hakes' ten per cent. How much do you say, David?”

[figure description] Page 094.[end figure description]

“Ten per shent is ver small—de risk is great—I gif him
one tousand now—he pay me ten tousand when he ish a
man.”

“Is that the best you can do?”

“The ver best, Meeshter Perth—the risk is ver great.”

“You see it is of no use talking to a man with notions
like these,” said Perth, turning away. “Come, let us go,
I have no time to lose.”

“Stop, Mr. Perth, I accept these terms,” said Sidney—
“let the writings be drawn.”

“It is not possible you will make such a sacrifice, Mr.
Werter?”

“Why should I hesitate? My happiness depends upon
it—perhaps my life; and, large as the sum is, if I am
rightly informed, it is less than a quarter of the yearly income
of my estate. I accept the terms.”

“It ish ver little,” said the Jew, who seemed to be regretting
that he had not asked twenty instead of ten.

After an ineffectual attempt to obtain some mitigation
of the terms, Mr. Perth reluctantly closed with the Jew's
offer, the writings were forthwith drawn and signed, and
the money was counted down in gold, each piece seeming
to cling to the usurer's fingers, as if by some magnetic attraction.

“Tish ver much monish, Mr. Verter,” he said, as he
pushed the glittering pile toward him—I shall be a beggar
if I loosh it.”

“Not quite, David, with Col. R—'s bonds, and Madam—
's diamonds in your strong box there,” replied
the attorney.

“Ah, Meeshter Perth, you are funny man,” returned
the Jew, with a pleased twinkle of his black eyes. “But
you are too sharp for me, Meeshter Perth. I make poor
bargain with you alwaysh.”

[figure description] Page 095.[end figure description]

The borrowers departed, leaving the usurer chuckling
over his bonds, but not more delighted than was Sidney at
the treasure he bore away. He enjoined strict secresy
upon the lawyer in relation to the transaction, compelled
him to accept of a considerable fee, and gave him the promise
of a far more liberal reward, if it should ever be in his
power to bestow it.

As soon as he was alone with Addison he laid the hundred
golden eagles before him.

“These,” he said, “are for you; use them as you choose;
but fail not to be on board the ship on Saturday, equipped
for your voyage. Possibly we may not meet again till
then.”

“Not all this money—I cannot take it all.”

“Every dollar, and little enough it is for your wants.
Half of it, at least, you will have to leave with your parents
for their support, and the remainder is certainly a
small enough sum for yourself. I only fear it will prove
inadequate.”

Sidney was unyielding, and his cousin reluctantly acceded
to his request.

“But how am I to avoid the observation of your uncle,
who will doubtless accompany you on shipboard, at the
time of sailing? Discovery would be fatal to our project,
while he has you so completely in his power.”

“Most assuredly it would—you must avoid him by all
means; it certainly will not be difficult to keep out of his
way, especially if you are on board before we arrive. I
will leave it entirely to you.”

“I think it can be managed.”

Sidney accompanied Addison home, where he found little
difficulty in persuading Mr. and Mrs. Jay to sanction their
arrangements, at which, indeed, they rejoiced for the young
invalid's sake; for Sidney's own delight was so great, it

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was impossible not to sympathize with it. Although
grieved to part with their son, the bountiful provision which
had been so unexpectedly made for them in his absence,
left them no excuse for refusal, and with many tears their
consent was given.

Uncertain whether he would be able again to see his relations
before his departure, Sidney bade them an affectionate
farewell, and lingered for a few moments with visible
agitation, as he held his beautiful and weeping cousin
by the hand. His heart was not unsusceptible, but he had
never suffered himself to think of Lizzie with a lover's feelings,
while his fell disease threatened to bring distress upon
all to whom he was attached, and most misery to those who
loved him most.

“We have met but twice, dear cousin,” he said, “since
childhood—perhaps we shall never meet again. I need
not ask you not to forget me, for I know your goodness,
and I doubt not that your friends, like mine, are few.
That I shall not forget you,” he added, smiling, “your
brother will be my surety, for he never ceases talking of
you, and I do not wish that he ever should.”

Cautioning Addison to be discreet in his movements, and
promising to call upon them again before sailing, if he
could do so without danger, he then withdrew and hastened
home, where his long absence had excited much uneasiness;
but as he began his preparations for departure with great
earnestness, he was not questioned in relation to his visit,
Ralph being well satisfied to hear no complaint or accusation.

Sidney had not been mistaken in his fears that he should
find no opportunity to repeat his visit, for his time was
continually employed in company with his guardian under
one pretext or another, until the morning of the day of
sailing. Then, after his trunks were packed and sent on

[figure description] Page 097.[end figure description]

board, his uncle, with unprecedented attention, insisted on
taking him to the vessel in his carriage, and Eloise and
Ruth, wishing, as they said, to see the ship and the dear,
romantic-looking sailors, and the Spanish Dons, who would
probably be passengers, were allowed to accompany them,
much to Sidney's alarm, who knew that the chances of Addison's
discovery would be tenfold increased.

There was no help for it, however; they all went, and
the Misses Werter boarded the ship with the air of people
who meant to know what was going on there, and in less
than ten minutes they were in every part of the vessel.

“There are no Dons here,” said Eloise, with a disappointed
air, after closely scrutinizing about a dozen undistinguished-looking
people in the cabin and on the quarter-deck.

“No, but I saw the handsomest sailor you ever set eyes
upon,” replied Ruth. “He has the most beautiful features
and complexion, and a fine figure. He is quite young, too,
and I do not believe he has ever been to sea before, poor
fellow. What a pity it is to see such a man in a blue
jacket and tarpaulin.”

“Where is he?” asked Eloise.

“Leaning against the capstan there—”

“Capstan? How do you know what a capstan is?”

“Oh, I asked him—just to see what kind of teeth he
had, and they are beautiful; but he is not very polite, for
he turned his head away as soon as he had answered.”

“Let us walk around that way,” said Eloise, “I can
make him talk, I'll be bound;” but the handsome sailor
seemed to have his eye upon his admirers, for no sooner
did he see them approaching the capstan, than he retreated
to the forward part of the ship, and when followed there,
he began, awkwardly enough, to climb the rigging of the
foremast, where, after ascending a short distance, he sat

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swinging like a treed squirrel, afraid to go higher, and
equally afraid to descend.

There was no excuse for hallooing to a man above their
heads, and so the disappointed ladies gave up the chase,
and returned to the quarter-deck, not suspecting that they
had been intentionally avoided.

Sidney, meanwhile, was in great distress at the absence
of his cousin, for the hour of sailing had arrived, and preparations
were making for immediate departure, and his
guardian seemed determined to remain on board until the
anchor was weighed and the sails were set. He did not
doubt that Addison had been delayed, and that he was now
on shore, waiting for Mr. Werter to leave the vessel, in order
that he might safely venture aboard.

Slipping from the side of his relations, he hurried below,
explored every part of the cabin, knocked at the doors of
the few state-rooms without success, and then returned to
the deck in a still greater state of alarm, for as he ascended
he heard the merry song of the sailors, which announced
that the work of raising the anchor was already begun.
It seemed to him that his uncle never would go, and he
was in despair when he heard Eloise propose that they
should go down the bay in the ship, and return in the pilot
boat; but at this moment he heard a few bars of a well-known
tune whistled in the rigging, and his heart leaped
with joy at the sound. He dared not look in the direction
whence the cheering notes proceeded, but he felt certain
that he could not be mistaken in the signal, and a few minutes
later, Eloise's proposition being voted down, his persecutors
bade him farewell, and descended the ship's side.
It was not until the small boat which bore them away was
a long distance from the ship, that Addison descended from
the rigging and threw himself into the arms of his cousin.
He had not had an opportunity to inform Sidney of his

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intended disguise, which he had adopted in preference to
concealing himself in the ship, because the latter course
might have excited suspicion and inquiry, and he had expected
to be able, without difficulty, to apprise Sidney of
his presence.

That the voyage of Sidney and Addison was a pleasant
one, need scarcely be said. It was, indeed, amid the chills
of November that they started, but as they proceeded
south they seemed to be sailing back through the preceding
autumnal months, towards the summer which had long been
past, but which they soon overtook. Over gentle seas, beneath
sunny skies, and towards a genial clime they went,
happy in each other's society; happy in the bright hopes
and aspirations of youth, and in youth's ready forgetfulness
of all evils that are not present and apparent.

p657-101

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