‘Ah, Percy,’ murmured the fair listener, ’so could I hear you talk forever.’

‘Bella,’ whispered Roseton, in her fairy ear, ’could you prepare your mind to entertain the idea of flight with me?’

‘To Staten Island?’ cried she, jumping up and clapping her hands.  ’Oh, let’s go to Staten Island!  Mundus can never follow us there, the boats are so dangerous.’

‘But, Bella mia’ said Roseton, in the soft accent of Italy, ’as the eminent but slightly impractical Hungarian—­I refer to Kossuth—­said, Staten Island “is lovely, but exposed.”  We should not be safe there.  Listen; in my house I have prepared a secret chamber, fifty feet square, plentifully supplied with healthful though plain provisions, and furnished with a tolerable degree of comfort.  There will we dwell, until the curiosity of Mundus and the whispers of the metropolis are overpast.  We will then re-appear in society, and assert our happiness.  Bella, mia Bella, shall it be so?’

‘Ah, Percy,’ sighed she, leaning back in his arms, ’let it be just as you say.’

Their lips—­

‘Bella,’ said Mundus, leaning over the pair, and fumbling among the vases over the fireplace, ’is there any stage change on the mantlepiece, or have either you or Roseton got such a thing about you as a sixpence?  I have nothing in my pocket but hundred-dollar city bills, and those infernal omnibus drivers make change with Valley Bank notes, which a certain person furnishes them,’—­and Mundus fixed his eyes full on the master of Pont-Noir.

‘Mr. Roseton,’ he continued, ’will you be so kind as to call at my office after the Second Board, to-day?  I have matters of importance to discuss with you.’  And so saying, the haughty banker strode from the apartment.

Roseton’s eyes mechanically followed him.  In an instant he turned to Bella.  She had fainted upon the sofa.  His first impulse was to apply his vinaigrette; but ‘no,’ he said to himself, ’this will probably last twenty minutes, and do her good.  During that time I can smoke a cigar, and arrange my plans.  But stop,’—­and here a cold sweat broke out upon him, and a livid paleness overspread his features,—­’what did Mundus say about the notes?  He refuses them!  Strange, strange, indeed!  Can it then be that the Valley Bank has bu—?’[A]

[Footnote A:  This is all of this interesting family tale that will appear in this place.  The remainder will be published in the New York Humdrum; the week after next number of which was issued week before last.  Get up early and secure a copy.]

* * * * *

OUR DANGER AND ITS CAUSE.